11. The Farewells

Arthur slept, but his sleep was far from peaceful. He found himself in the familiar darkness of his past, the shadow of his father looming closer, that acrid smell of alcohol in the air. His body tensed instinctively, caught once again in the helpless feeling he'd hoped to leave behind.

Then, with a startled gasp, Arthur awoke, his heart racing, the remnants of his dream lingering in the quiet of his room. He rubbed his temples, gathering his thoughts and steadying his breath. 'It's that dream again', he told himself, but the faint, clinging unease was harder to shake than he'd like. He forced a small smile, a silent pep talk to bolster his spirits, and focused on the rhythm of the sanctuary around him.

Just then, a faint chime broke the silence.

[System Notification: Level Up]

[Current Level: 3 → 5]

[Core Trait Increased: Resilience]

Arthur blinked as the notification window appeared, displaying his updated information.

Name: Arthur Peterson

Role: Concierge (Multiversal Hotel Manager)

Level: 5

Core Traits:

Adaptability – 5/10

Hospitality – 6/10

Coordination – 5/10

Resilience – 5/10

Intuition – 3/10

Skills:

Guest Relations – Beginner

Basic Multiverse Navigation – Beginner

Conflict De-escalation – Intermediate

Basic Space Arrangement – Beginner

Beginner Cooking – Beginner

Mystical Maintenance – Not Acquired

Magical Skills:

Basic Charms {HP} – Beginner

Current Status:

Physical Condition: Stable

Mental Condition: Anxious, Disoriented

Notable Possessions:

Felix Felicis {HP}

Arthur took a moment to let it sink in. His resilience had increased—a small victory, but one that hinted at his own growth and Avalon's supportive role in helping him heal. Avalon's voice, gentle and reassuring, filled his mind.

"You'll find, Arthur, that every five levels increase a core trait. And as you use your skills day by day, you'll gain proficiency in them. Mastery takes time, but you're already on the right path."

Arthur smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Avalon. I'll keep that in mind."

With renewed energy, he stood and prepared for the day, letting the warm water of his morning shower wash away the last of his restless sleep. Once dressed, he headed to the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for Harry's breakfast. He prepared the meal with the care and attention he'd come to enjoy, placing everything neatly on a tray before making his way to Harry's room.

As before, he left the tray by the door, giving a single, quiet knock to alert Harry. The tray shimmered and vanished, teleported into the room.

Arthur headed back to the lobby, feeling a strange blend of purpose and calm. He had another goal today: to study transfiguration. He settled behind the front desk, setting out a spellbook and the training wand, ready to dive into his own magical journey.

Meanwhile, in his suite, Harry was already awake, feeling refreshed yet oddly contemplative. He had awoken earlier than usual, savoring the tranquility of the room. As he stretched and got out of bed, he took a long, hot bath, a luxury he was still getting used to. The steam and warmth wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, making him feel safe and at ease.

When he dressed and caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, his gaze landed on the faint lightning bolt scar just above his right eye. He leaned closer, studying its jagged shape, its ever-present reminder of something he didn't fully understand.

In one of the books he'd read, there had been mention of curses. He wondered if this scar was a mark of some terrible magic, a symbol that had somehow cursed him to survive while his parents… He swallowed, the familiar ache surfacing. 'What if I'm cursed?' he thought, the idea weighing heavily on him. Maybe the car crash had been no accident at all, and perhaps the curse had kept him alive, for reasons he couldn't begin to understand.

A sudden knock broke his train of thought, and he turned, the somber feeling lifting as he noticed a fresh, steaming breakfast on his table. He smiled, a little of the heaviness lifting as he sat down to eat, savoring every bite. This was a meal prepared with care, a kindness he'd never expected. He felt a quiet happiness bloom within him, the sadness from earlier receding like the last traces of a shadow.

As he prepared to dress, he instinctively reached for Dudley's hand-me-downs, but something caught his eye in the wardrobe. His fingers paused over a small note tucked neatly in the corner, its edges soft with warmth.

The note read: Everything in this room is yours, Harry. Feel free to take anything with you—your books, clothes, and all else. Thank you for your patronage, and know you are always welcome to return.

Harry's heart swelled with an unexpected warmth. "Looks like I owe you one, Avalon," he whispered, grinning. He set his mind to return to the Dursleys, determined to find answers about his past. But before he left, he would carry a part of Avalon with him.

He packed a few of the books into the enchanted suitcase—a handful of Year 1 essentials and a few that had sparked his curiosity. The suitcase was lightweight yet spacious, its magic allowing him to carry everything effortlessly. As he closed it, he looked around his room one last time, taking in the quiet beauty of it. Avalon had changed him. Here, he'd felt something he'd rarely known before—acceptance.

With his new clothes fitting him perfectly, he chuckled, feeling like he was leaving this hotel as a different kid. He took his suitcase and headed down to the main lobby, ready to say goodbye.

Arthur looked up as Harry entered the lobby, a look of quiet resolve on the boy's face as he approached the desk. Arthur set his spellbook aside, giving Harry a warm smile.

"Good morning, Harry," he greeted. "All set for your next adventure?"

Harry nodded, his expression a mix of gratitude and curiosity. "Yeah… I think so. I just wanted to say goodbye, and thank you. For everything."

Arthur nodded, sensing the weight behind Harry's words. "You're always welcome back, Harry. Avalon will always have a place for you."

Harry's gaze lingered on Arthur for a moment, and then he asked, "What's your full name? I mean, I know you're… Arthur. But, if I come back, it'd be nice to know your full name."

Arthur's eyes softened, a faint, playful smile curving on his lips. He paused, then spoke with a touch of pride. "It's Arthur Pendragon."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, a spark of recognition and awe flickering across his face. The legendary name resonated, lending a sense of magic and mystery to the man who had shown him so much kindness.

They shared a quiet moment, a mutual understanding passing between them. Arthur reached out, giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself. And don't stop being curious."

Harry's eyes shone with determination. "I won't."

With a final nod, Harry took his suitcase and turned toward the door, glancing back one last time with a small smile. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur inclined his head, watching Harry step through the doorway, his quiet pride lingering as he whispered, "Goodbye, Harry Potter."

As the door closed, Arthur returned to his place at the front desk, feeling a rare satisfaction. Avalon had brought him someone remarkable, and he sensed that someday, their paths would cross again.

The lobby fell silent as Harry left, his presence lingering in a comforting way that Arthur had come to appreciate. Just as he began to reflect on the morning, a soft chime sounded, followed by a familiar notification panel opening in front of him.

[System Notification: Guest Talent Acquired]

[You have the opportunity to copy one talent from guest: Harry Potter]

Available Talents:

Wizarding Resilience – The innate ability to recover from magical or physical setbacks faster than others.

Beginner Wandless Magic – A foundation in wandless magic, developed through emotional intensity.

Parseltongue Affinity – A natural ability to communicate with serpents.

Basic Spellcasting Proficiency – An intuitive understanding of basic spells, aiding in magical adaptability.

Arthur read the list carefully, feeling the thrill of possibility but also a wave of questions. "Avalon," he asked thoughtfully, "how exactly does this copying work? Are these talents Harry has now, or are they from his future potential?"

"These talents," Avalon replied with a calm but assuring tone, "are what Harry possesses the moment he leaves Avalon. They are based only on his current abilities, so they do not include any skills he might acquire in the future."

Arthur considered this, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. "So… if I choose a talent now, I won't be able to copy any other abilities he gains in the future?"

"That's correct," Avalon responded. "Once a guest's talent is copied, it cannot be duplicated. However, if you choose not to copy a talent now, you may have the option to copy one of his talents if he returns to Avalon in the future."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. The abilities listed were valuable, no doubt, but something in him felt that his own progress with the system was helping him grow quickly. Perhaps he didn't need to rush into acquiring a talent just yet.

"Then I'll skip copying for now," Arthur decided, his voice steady with resolve. "I'd rather wait and see what he can accomplish down the line. I'm making good progress with the system on my own."

"A wise choice," Avalon replied approvingly.

Arthur felt a calm satisfaction settle within him. As he moved back to his tasks, he knew that Avalon's connection with Harry had left a lasting impact—and he was more than ready to follow his own path forward, wherever it would lead.

0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0

Back at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was pacing near the West Tower, her sharp gaze trained on the owl that had been waiting for days to deliver Harry's letter. She let out a sigh of relief as she watched the owl spread its wings and take flight at last, the envelope clutched in its talons, heading in Harry's direction.

"Finally," she murmured, the tension easing from her shoulders. She glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Dumbledore standing in the shadows, observing with a subtle, knowing smile.

He met her gaze, a twinkle of reassurance in his eyes, though he offered no words. His gaze remained on the sky, watching the owl disappear into the distance, confident that Harry's journey would lead him where he needed to go.

0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0

On their journey to the lighthouse, the Dursleys found themselves forced to make an unexpected stop. Dudley had begun to feel sick halfway there, clutching his stomach and moaning until the car was filled with the sounds of his discomfort. Vernon's jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Can't you hold it in, Dudley?" he snapped, more annoyed than concerned.

But as Dudley's whining grew louder and his face turned an alarming shade of green, even Vernon had to accept that something was wrong. Reluctantly, he veered off their route, grumbling the whole way, and pulled into the nearest hospital.

The doctor took one look at Dudley and diagnosed him with a nasty stomachache, caused by a combination of poor hygiene and an unhealthy diet. "He shouldn't travel long distances right now," the doctor advised. "Best to get him home and let him rest."

After a strained silence and a bitter exchange of looks, Vernon and Petunia agreed to turn back. Petunia was fuming, convinced that their escape plan had been ruined, yet unwilling to risk Dudley's health. With little choice, they set off back to Privet Drive, simmering with frustration and annoyance.

When they finally arrived home, the sight that greeted them only served to stoke their irritation further. Standing by the front door, in clean, perfectly fitting clothes, a small suitcase by his side, was Harry.

Petunia's eyes narrowed immediately, a surge of anger bubbling up as she took in his appearance. Gone was the scruffy, neglected look she had begrudgingly tolerated; in its place was a boy who looked confident and well-cared for, his new clothes practically mocking the years she'd spent making sure he stood out for all the wrong reasons.

"And where on earth have you been you stupid child!?" she snapped, storming out of the car toward him. The words came out like venom, sharp and accusatory.

Harry met her glare silently, his calm demeanor only fueling her frustration. There was something different about him—something she couldn't quite place but hated all the same. She could feel the presence of something unusual clinging to him, something… unnatural.

"What's with those clothes?" she spat, her voice low and simmering. "Think you're special, do you?"

Vernon, meanwhile, was helping Dudley out of the car, barely sparing a glance at Harry. But as Petunia's voice rose, he looked up, and his face twisted in distaste as he noticed Harry's new appearance.

"Trying to show us up, are you?" Vernon barked, his face reddening. "Get over here and grab the luggage. You think those clothes make you better than us?"

Petunia sneered, her lips curling with disgust. "Probably thinks he's some sort of… of…" Caught between her words she hissed, her voice laced with loathing.

Harry said nothing, keeping his expression neutral as he moved to retrieve their bags from the boot of the car. Every movement he made seemed to rankle them further as if his calm confidence was a direct insult to everything they believed he should be—small, insignificant, and dependent on them.

As he carried the bags toward the house, he caught Petunia's glare, her thin lips pressed together in a look of pure disdain.

"Whatever you think you are, whatever you think you've… become," she whispered harshly, "just remember, it's not welcome here."

Harry didn't respond, instead focusing on his quiet sense of inner strength, the steady calm Avalon had gifted him, he allowed himself a small, unseen smile, knowing that for the first time, he had a world beyond Privet Drive waiting for him—a world he'd come to understand, even if they never would.

As Harry carried the last of the Dursleys' luggage toward the front door, a flicker of movement above him caught his attention. He glanced up, eyes widening in surprise as he spotted an owl swooping low, its wings beating gracefully as it glided toward him. In its beak, clutched tightly, was a yellowed envelope.

Before he could react, the owl released the envelope, which fluttered down and landed softly at his feet. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he stooped to pick it up. Turning it over, his eyes widened even further as he saw the seal—a wax crest embossed with the words Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

For a moment, he simply stared, disbelief and excitement swirling within him. 'This has to be some kind of mistake…' But deep down, he knew it wasn't. This letter was real, more real than anything he'd ever known, and it felt like a lifeline—a doorway into the world he'd only glimpsed in Avalon.

Quickly, he slipped the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket, tucking it securely out of sight. As he stood up, he spotted Petunia glancing at him suspiciously. But with Dudley still groaning in discomfort, she barely had time to focus her ire fully on Harry.

She scowled, her face twisted with irritation. "In! Now!" she snapped, her voice low and furious. The last of her patience had worn thin, and Harry felt the full brunt of her anger as she yanked open the cupboard door and practically shoved him inside.

Harry stumbled slightly, catching himself just as the door slammed shut behind him. The familiar darkness enclosed him, but this time he felt a strange spark of warmth hidden away, pressed close to his heart—the letter.

Petunia's muffled voice came through the door, dripping with disdain. "Don't you dare cause any more trouble. You're nothing but a burden here, remember that."

With that final insult, she stomped up the stairs to care for Dudley, her footsteps receding down the hallway. Alone in the quiet, Harry took a steadying breath, his fingers brushing over the hidden envelope. For the first time, he felt like he had something that was truly his, something the Dursleys couldn't take away or understand.

He waited, listening to make sure Petunia wouldn't return, and when the coast was clear, he gently pulled the letter from his jacket. There, in the dim light of his cupboard, he traced his fingers over the Hogwarts seal, his heart swelling with hope and wonder.

This was his invitation to something bigger, something he'd always dreamed might be out there. And soon, he'd be ready to answer it.