บท 5: 05. A Room of One’s Own
Arthur watched as Harry took small, careful sips of his hot chocolate, his fingers wrapped around the cup as if he couldn't quite believe it was real. There was a soft contentment in his expression, a calm Arthur hadn't seen before, and he felt Avalon's quiet approval humming around them. It was almost like a gentle warmth, a presence observing and encouraging as Harry settled further into his seat.
"Everything to his liking, Arthur?" Avalon's voice sounded in Arthur's mind, a familiar tone of curiosity and calm amusement threading through the words.
Arthur smiled slightly. 'Seems so. He's calmer now, less guarded… Avalon, he's just a boy. Imagine the things he's seen and felt already, and he's only eleven.'
"A tender age indeed," Avalon mused thoughtfully. "There is much we may offer him regarding rest, though I sense a lingering sadness. Perhaps we might ease that burden, if only a little."
Arthur's chest tightened as he watched Harry, recognizing the flickers of wonder and uncertainty he himself had once felt. 'We'll make sure he feels safe, for as long as he's here.' he thought back firmly. 'Let's keep it simple and welcoming, Avalon. No need for him to know everything just yet.'
Harry finished his last sip, setting the empty cup carefully back on its saucer with a quiet "thank you." He looked up as if waiting for a cue on what to do next, his green eyes wide and curious.
Arthur met his gaze with a reassuring smile and rose to his feet. "Ready to see your room?" he asked gently.
Harry nodded, standing up with a small, shy smile. Arthur led him toward the elevator at the corner of the lobby, his footsteps soft against the polished floor. The grand elevator doors gleamed in the warm light, their brass fittings intricate and almost ancient-looking, as though they belonged to another time.
Arthur could sense Avalon's anticipation growing, a subtle energy building around them as they reached the elevator doors.
The elevator doors opened soundlessly, and Arthur stepped inside, motioning for Harry to join him. Harry hesitated for a second, his gaze flickering over the soft, amber-lit interior before he stepped in, glancing back as if to make sure the lobby was still there.
"Arthur, may I address the guest directly?" Avalon's voice asked, a faint hint of amusement shimmering in his mind.
Arthur almost chuckled aloud. 'Go right ahead. But keep it gentle; he's still getting used to… everything.'
'Of course,' Avalon replied, its tone shifting to a warm, welcoming calm.
The elevator doors closed, and to Harry's surprise, a gentle voice sounded in the air, soft and smooth, like a melody just beyond hearing.
"Welcome, Harry," Avalon spoke, its tone soothing. "Your room awaits you just up ahead, where you may find peace and comfort. Avalon exists to be your haven, a place you may call your own, however long you wish to stay."
Harry's mouth opened slightly in awe, glancing around the elevator, his gaze settling on Arthur with a mixture of confusion and excitement. Arthur simply smiled, giving a subtle nod of reassurance. "It's just Avalon," he said, his tone casual, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
When Harry's gaze dropped to the elevator panel, his brow furrowed slightly. The buttons held no numbers, just an array of strange symbols that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. Only one symbol, a swirling mark that reminded him of a small, twisting wave, was illuminated.
Arthur pressed the button, feeling the elevator hum to life as they began their ascent. Avalon's voice drifted softly through his mind.
'Harry seems comfortable with the journey.' Avalon said, a gentle, almost maternal warmth in its tone.
Arthur watched as Harry's gaze darted from the illuminated button to the elevator doors, then back to Arthur. 'He's in awe, Avalon. You've kept enough mystery to keep him wondering without overwhelming him,' he thought, quiet gratitude accompanying his words.
Avalon gave a quiet hum of approval. 'Well of course. Let him find his way here, to a place he can trust.'
Arthur felt a faint sense of pride as if Avalon were giving him a nod of approval. Harry, meanwhile, continued to look around, as though searching for some hidden clue in the soft amber glow of the elevator walls. His fingers brushed against the fabric of his oversized shirt, twisting it in a small, unconscious gesture.
The elevator chimed, signaling their arrival. The elevator doors opened, revealing a plush, warmly lit hallway that stretched ahead, every detail exuding an unmistakable 1990s luxury. The walls were lined with rich, cream-colored wallpaper adorned with delicate, gold-accented patterns that seemed to shimmer under the amber light. Dark mahogany paneling framed the walls, each segment polished to a shine, while sconces cast a soft, inviting glow down the length of the hall. The carpet underfoot was thick and richly colored, a deep burgundy with intricate geometric designs that had a subtle, mesmerizing effect.
Arthur stepped out first, turning to gesture for Harry to follow. Feeling a wave of energy roll over him the moment his foot touched the carpet. The sensation was distinct—a subtle, but powerful warmth that radiated familiarity and a touch of magic. It was as though the hallway itself was alive with memories and a gentle welcome for the young boy beside him.
"This way, Harry," Arthur said, his voice low and warm. He led Harry down the hallway, Avalon's quiet presence still resonating gently around them, like a reassuring hand guiding their steps.
'Avalon… this energy. It's different from the lobby.' He reached out with his thoughts, seeking confirmation.
Avalon's voice resonated in his mind, soft and steady. 'Each floor carries a unique energy,' it explained, its tone gentle but matter-of-fact. 'This is my way of accommodating guests, shaping each floor to feel like home to those from different worlds. Your guest may not recognize it consciously, but he will feel it—a touch of his own world's essence.'
Arthur nodded subtly, understanding the thoughtfulness behind Avalon's design. 'So it's a bit of home, tailored to each guest,' he thought back, a quiet appreciation coloring his words. 'A touch that brings comfort without them realizing.'
'Precisely,' Avalon responded, a trace of satisfaction in its tone.
Arthur turned to Harry, who was gazing around the hallway with wide eyes, drinking in every detail. The boy's expression had softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took in the lush surroundings. Arthur could see the tension in Harry's small frame easing, as if the hallway's calm, familiar atmosphere were gently coaxing him to let his guard down.
They reached a door midway down the hall, and Arthur paused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small, ornate key. The key gleamed faintly, its polished surface etched with intricate patterns that seemed to catch the light, casting a warm glow across his palm. Arthur held it out to Harry with a gentle smile.
"This is your key," he said softly, extending it toward the boy. "Your room is just behind this door, a place for you to rest however long you need."
Harry stared at the key, his fingers reaching out hesitantly before closing around it. He glanced up at Arthur, his green eyes reflecting a quiet gratitude, though he seemed unsure of how to express it in words.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Arthur nodded, his expression warm and reassuring. "You're welcome, Harry. If you need anything at all, just let me know." He gestured to the door, giving Harry a small, encouraging nod. "This is your space now."
Harry offered him a tentative smile, and with a final glance down the hallway, he slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open, revealing a warm, softly lit room within. Arthur lingered for a moment, watching as Harry stepped inside, his wonder visible even from behind.
After a quiet moment, Arthur turned back toward the elevator, Avalon's presence still humming at the edge of his thoughts as he made his way down the hallway. The warmth and energy of the floor seemed to ease around him, giving way to a familiar calm. He stepped back into the elevator, pressing the glowing button for the lobby, and felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere as Avalon guided him down like an old friend leading the way.
0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0
Harry stepped inside his room, eyes widening as he took in the space before him. It was like nothing he had ever seen, certainly nothing like the cramped cupboard he had left behind at Privet Drive. Rich, dark wood floors stretched out beneath his feet, softened by plush cream-colored rugs that felt impossibly soft underfoot. A large bed with deep green covers and an assortment of pillows sat in the center of the room, its presence almost regal. Above it, a chandelier cast a soft, warm glow over everything, filling the room with a cozy, almost enchanted atmosphere.
He took a few tentative steps forward, noticing the small table beside the bed, which held a steaming teapot and a delicate slice of cake dusted with powdered sugar. The sweet scent of the tea filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of polished wood and something almost magical that he couldn't quite place.
To his left, he spotted something that made his heart skip—a bookshelf, filled with rows of books that lined the far wall. He approached it slowly, his eyes scanning the spines, each one embossed with completely unfamiliar titles. Some were covered in faded, leather-bound covers, while others looked new and pristine. There was a quiet air of mystery around the books as if they had been waiting for someone to open them.
Curious, he reached out and picked one at random, noticing the title printed on the spine: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. His fingers brushed the cover, and he opened it, flipping to the first page, where the neat, printed text seemed to almost glow under the room's warm light.
He squinted at the contents, feeling a flicker of interest. The page was filled with strange but intriguing words, instructions, and diagrams he didn't recognize. A small part of him wanted to set it down—spells sounded like fairy-tale nonsense, something his aunt and uncle would scoff at. But then he looked around the room again, at the chandelier casting its magical glow, the velvet armchair beside the window, the perfectly prepared tea and cake. This entire place defied everything he thought he knew, so what harm was there in a little curiosity?
He sat down on the bed, settling into its softness, and opened the book to a random page. The title at the top read The Levitation Charm, and beneath it was a detailed description of a spell that supposedly allowed objects to float in mid-air. He frowned, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. Wand movement: swish and flick, he read, his brows furrowing. Incantation: Wingardium Leviosa.
It seemed so specific, so matter-of-fact, and despite himself, he felt a small thrill at the idea that this book held secrets, things he had never known were even possible. He took a bite of the cake, savoring its sweetness, and then reached for the teacup, feeling the warmth seep into his hands as he took a sip.
The taste of the tea was rich and soothing, a warmth that spread through him with each sip. He leaned back against the pillows, the soft bed cradling him, and continued to flip through The Standard Book of Spells. Though he didn't know it, these were spells that every young wizard in his world would one day learn, but to Harry, they were simply words on a page, each spells a tantalizing mystery. His fingers traced over the diagrams, his curiosity growing with each new entry.
The book described charms for simple things—a spell to light the tip of one's wand, another to mend broken objects, and even one for summoning light. Each spell seemed to open a door in his mind, making him wonder if these things could actually be real. The thought was strange, exciting even, but he found himself almost hoping that maybe, somehow, it could be true.
He turned another page, his eyes widening slightly as he read about The Unlocking Charm. It promised to open locked doors with the word Alohomora, a spell so simple and yet so potentially powerful. A small, skeptical voice in his head insisted that this was impossible, but in this room, surrounded by the magic of Avalon, he felt a growing desire to believe.
He took another bite of the cake, savoring the soft, fluffy texture. The sweetness was comforting, as was the tea, and for the first time in his life, he felt a warmth, a sense of safety that settled deep within him. Avalon was more than a place—it was a haven, a place where he could allow himself to imagine, to wonder, and, perhaps, to believe in the extraordinary.
A contented sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back, letting the softness of the pillows envelop him. His eyelids grew heavy as he read, the warmth of the tea and the enchantment of the words on the page lulling him into a comfortable haze. He took one last sip, setting the teacup gently back on the saucer, and closed the book, placing it beside him on the bed.
In that quiet moment, he felt Avalon's presence around him, a protective, unseen force that seemed to whisper, Rest now. You're safe here.
As he settled deeper into the bed, his mind drifted, and he felt a sensation he had never truly known—a sense of belonging. In Avalon, he was more than just the boy in the cupboard; he was someone worth caring for, someone allowed to rest and dream. Feeling the comfort of the room surrounding him, the gentle hum of Avalon's magic watching over him like a lullaby.
As Harry's eyes fluttered shut, the warm light of the room faded, giving way to a dreamscape woven with soft colors and faint whispers. He found himself standing in a vast library, walls lined with countless books, each one bound in leather and gleaming gold. The spines glowed softly under a high, arched ceiling, and a chandelier like the one in his room cast a gentle, magical light over everything.
He took a step forward, noticing that one of the books on the nearest shelf was The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He reached out to touch it, and the book opened by itself, its pages flipping to reveal the spell for Wingardium Leviosa. A warmth filled him, and he raised his hand, swishing and flicking it the way the book had described.
To his amazement, a feather lifted from the ground beside him, floating gently into the air, spinning slowly as if caught in an invisible breeze. He laughed, a sound of pure joy escaping him, the feeling of magic flowing through him as natural as breathing.
The dream shifted, and suddenly, he was no longer in the library. Instead, he found himself back in the cupboard under the stairs, his laughter fading as the walls closed in around him. He tried to reach for the feather, to make it float once more, but it drifted out of reach, slipping through the narrow gap beneath the door. The cramped darkness surrounded him, a familiar feeling of loneliness pressing against him.
But before despair could settle in, the dream shifted again, and he was back in Avalon's room. The bed was soft beneath him, the walls bathed in warm light, and the faint scent of cedar and magic filled the air. The sensation of safety returned, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace, and he felt Avalon's presence beside him, quiet and protective.
In that moment, a new thought bloomed within him, an impossible hope—that perhaps, just perhaps, he belonged somewhere beyond the cupboard. Here, in this mysterious room, he felt for the first time that there might be a place for him in the world of magic he'd glimpsed in the dream.
As he slept, Avalon's quiet hum surrounded him, a soft, comforting melody that held back his worries and fears, allowing him to rest peacefully. And as Harry drifted deeper into sleep, he felt a warmth inside him that he'd never known before, a glimmer of magic that he carried with him into his dreams and beyond.
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