03. The Tug of Fate

Arthur straightened the collar of his new uniform, feeling a mix of nervousness and determination settle over him. Avalon's to-do list for the lobby's overhaul hovered in the air before him, glowing faintly in a lavender hue. Dusting, arranging, and lighting adjustments—pretty basic stuff, though he imagined his new surroundings would eventually require more finesse. He gave the list a final look, rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the dingy lobby.

"Alright, Avalon," he said with a small grin, "Let's give this place a little life."

As he spoke, a bucket, clothes, and an assortment of cleaning tools appeared in the corner of the lobby, each as if waiting for him to pick them up. "Thanks for the supplies, Avalon," he muttered, grabbing the bucket and cloth and setting straight to work. He scrubbed the layer of dust that seemed to cling to every corner, relishing the odd sense of focus that came with the work. Every time he paused, Avalon's voice hummed in his mind, pointing out small details he might have missed.

As he dusted off a tall shelf by the far wall, Avalon's calm voice returned a gentle reminder. "Each task you complete will bring us closer to your first guest. I am here to offer guidance as you move forward."

Arthur smirked as he wiped down a small layer of grime on the bookshelf, feeling oddly invested in each clean surface. "That right? I could use a few pointers, then. For starters, these 'traits and skills'—what's the deal with 'Adaptability'? Is it just a fancy word for winging it?"

Avalon's hum seemed to carry a hint of amusement. "Adaptability is more than improvisation, Arthur. It is your ability to adjust to new circumstances without resistance, letting you shape yourself to fit the unexpected demands of each guest—and every world."

"Fair enough." He nodded as he moved to dust a large coffee table, letting Avalon's words settle in. "I suppose having that number go up would be helpful. How about… 'Intuition'? How does that play into this job?"

"Intuition," Avalon replied thoughtfully, "is the silent guide—the undercurrent of knowledge you possess but do not consciously know you have. It will allow you to sense when something is amiss, even if you cannot see it. Over time, this may become one of your most important traits."

"Important enough that a solid 10 in it might let me see through walls?" Arthur joked as he turned to the seating area. He looked over the chairs and tables, some of which had mismatched legs or looked a little wobbly. He carefully rearranged them into a comfortable cluster, imagining what a tired traveler might appreciate when they first stepped inside. The chairs were placed in pairs, creating small, conversational nooks around each table.

Avalon replied with a faint hint of pride in its tone. "Think of it less as wizardry and more as… perception beyond the ordinary. This skill will develop in tandem with your connection to me. Together, we will learn to anticipate the needs of our guests before they are even voiced."

Arthur took that in, nodding thoughtfully as he moved to inspect the lighting. Two lamps stood in the far corners, casting a dim, murky glow that only seemed to emphasize the room's shadows. He carefully moved each lamp closer to the seating area and adjusted their angles, creating a softer, warmer light that pooled around the chairs. Avalon's approval was almost tangible, like a subtle warmth spreading through the air.

"So," he murmured, stepping back to admire his work, "it's about listening and watching, really tuning in, yeah?"

"Yes," Avalon confirmed. "And as your skill in 'Guest Relations' grows, so too will your intuition. Each interaction will shape you further."

He looked around, satisfied with his progress so far. "Alright, seating and lighting, check," he murmured. Suddenly, his gaze snagged on a faint crack running diagonally across the window near the entrance.

"Hey, Avalon, what about 'Mystical Maintenance'? I don't have that skill yet, but I'm guessing it would help here." He gestured to the crack, and Avalon's presence seemed to shift, inspecting the damaged glass with what felt like a gentle, attentive focus.

"Mystical Maintenance," Avalon explained, warmth threading through its voice, "is the skill that allows you to repair and protect my physical form from… otherworldly influences. It requires a careful hand and a deeper understanding of our guests' unique powers. I sense you may need it soon."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his expression. "So, keeping this place intact is going to be a part-time job itself. Noted."

Wiping down the window carefully, he continued to the other windows, checking each one for similar cracks or imperfections. Finally, he turned to the main entrance, inspecting every lock, handle, and latch to make sure each worked smoothly. Avalon was silent as he worked, but Arthur felt its presence nearby, radiating a calm approval as he tested each mechanism.

He spent a few extra minutes securing the main entrance, tugging at the old bolts until they slid smoothly into place. When he finally stepped back, he gave the door one last satisfied tug. "Looks like this place is ready for business."

"Each guest will bring something new into this space—abilities, items, perhaps energies you've never encountered. We must both grow to accommodate them," Avalon's voice resonated softly, carrying a tone that Arthur could only describe as quiet pride.

Arthur chuckled under his breath, glancing at the space he'd just organized. "Glad to know I'm not botching things. Though, if you ask me, this room was begging for a little attention." He gestured toward a side door leading to a small, humble cafeteria room that looked as though it hadn't been touched in years. "I'll get to that, eventually."

"Indeed," Avalon agreed, its tone laced with a hint of amusement.

Arthur looked down at the checklist hovering nearby, then gave a small nod of satisfaction. The lobby was looking better already.

[Congratulation! Host has Completed the Quest. Initiating Reward.]

[Connecting to the First World...]

[Initiating Bonus Reward...]

Just then, a soft, golden shimmer blinked to life in front of him, capturing his attention. Before he knew it, a small vial, brimming with warm, liquid gold, appeared mid-air and hovered gently before him. The vial itself was delicate, glinting faintly in the low light of the lobby as though it had caught the sunlight and held it captive.

"What… what's this?" Arthur asked, reaching out to gently cup the vial in his hand. He felt its surprising coolness as he held it, studying the liquid gold that swirled enticingly inside.

"A bonus reward for completing your first quest," Avalon said, its tone practically beaming with pride. "This is Felix Felicis—a potion from the universe you may know as 'Harry Potter.' It is sometimes referred to as 'Liquid Luck.'"

Arthur's eyes widened, his fingers brushing the glass with newfound respect. "Wait, you're saying this'll give me… actual luck?"

"For a time," Avalon confirmed. "It will enhance your natural abilities and grant you an unusual advantage over challenges or unexpected obstacles. Use it wisely, for its effects are fleeting but potent."

He held the bottle up to the dim light, watching the liquid inside swirl and glisten, almost as if it were alive. Even as someone who'd always been a skeptic, he couldn't deny the enchanting allure it held. He could imagine the possibilities it offered, though he had no clue when or where he might actually need it. Still, a thrill sparked inside him at the thought of holding a small piece of another world.

As he carefully tucked the potion into his pocket, a faint tremor buzzed through the room, starting at the walls and traveling inward. The floor seemed to vibrate softly beneath his feet, and Arthur froze, his eyes darting instinctively to the front door.

"Avalon…" he murmured, his voice a low whisper. "Did you feel that?"

"Yes," Avalon replied, its tone shifting slightly, carrying an undertone of readiness, perhaps even anticipation. "That would be… our first guest."

0~~~~~~~~~~Several hours before~~~~~~~~~~0

A thin boy with messy black hair and round glasses sat hunched in his cupboard under the stairs, trying not to make a sound. He was used to his small, cramped room—he'd spent nearly all ten years of his life there, shut away beneath the Dursleys' home. Shadows flickered across the ceiling, cast by the footsteps moving around the house above. He lay curled on his side, listening to the creaks and groans, the distant voices of his aunt and uncle, and his cousin's occasional stomps.

Harry Potter had learned long ago not to expect much in the way of kindness from his aunt and uncle, but today felt particularly cruel. After all, it was his cousin Dudley's birthday. Birthdays meant Dudley got whatever he wanted and everyone else was meant to disappear.

But today, the Dursleys had another idea for keeping Harry out of sight—they were taking him to the zoo, a rare outing. Harry could hardly believe it. Still, he felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety; with the Dursleys, nothing came without a catch.

He tried to ignore the flicker of hope in his chest as Aunt Petunia swung open the cupboard door, her thin lips pressed into a sharp line. "Hurry up, boy," she snapped, eyeing him like an unwanted pest she'd found in her clean kitchen. "And don't even think about embarrassing us. You're lucky we're taking you at all."

Harry nodded, slipping on his oversized shoes. His worn clothes hung off his skinny frame, hand-me-downs from Dudley that were at least three sizes too large. He climbed into the back seat of the car, taking his usual place as close to the window as possible while Dudley stretched out beside him, kicking his legs up with a careless sneer.

The drive to the zoo was tense and silent, apart from Uncle Vernon's muttering about "maniac motorcycles" and the occasional glare he shot at Harry through the rear-view mirror. Dudley and his friend Piers sniggered to themselves in the front, throwing Harry the occasional scornful glance. Harry said nothing, pressing his face to the glass and watching the scenery go by.

At the zoo entrance, the Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers each a chocolate ice cream. Harry was almost certain he'd be ignored, but the lady at the ice cream cart smiled at him kindly and asked what he'd like. Aunt Petunia reluctantly handed over a coin for a small, yellow lemon ice pop.

Harry savored the ice pop, feeling its sharp, sweet taste on his tongue as they walked through the zoo. He drifted a little behind the others, careful to stay just far enough away that Dudley wouldn't reach back and shove him, as he so often did. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the animals and the open air, the closest thing to freedom he'd felt in a long time.

He was more cautious after lunch. Dudley had thrown a tantrum in the zoo restaurant because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, and Uncle Vernon had bought him a second one. Harry, however, was allowed to finish the first bowl, a small treat he knew would come at a price.

Afterward, the group made their way to the reptile house. It was dim and cool, a welcome change from the bright sun outside. They moved from enclosure to enclosure, staring at the animals behind glass. Dudley and Piers rushed to the huge snakes and thick-bodied pythons, while Harry hung back, letting himself disappear in the crowd. He felt calm here, alone, even though he was surrounded by strangers.

Finally, Dudley found the biggest snake in the exhibit—a massive boa constrictor coiled in a tight circle, half-asleep on a branch. Dudley pressed his nose to the glass, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Make it move!" he whined, tugging at Uncle Vernon's sleeve. Uncle Vernon rapped on the glass with his knuckles, but the snake lay still, unbothered by their efforts. Dudley frowned, losing interest, and wandered off with Piers in tow, grumbling about how boring snakes were.

Once they left, Harry drifted toward the glass, feeling an odd pull toward the snake. He gazed at the creature, its glistening scales reflecting the light, and felt a strange, familiar pang of loneliness. The snake had no company except for the people who came to knock on the glass, trying to get its attention. In some way, it reminded him of himself, stuck in the Dursleys' house, a curiosity they didn't want but couldn't get rid of.

Just then, the snake's beady eyes blinked open. Harry took a step back, startled, but the snake moved closer, its head lifting until it was level with his gaze. Its unblinking eyes locked onto his, and Harry felt an odd warmth in his chest, as if, for once, he wasn't entirely alone. He glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and then whispered, "Hello…"

He wasn't sure why he'd said it, but the snake tilted its head, giving him a look that seemed to say, 'Finally, someone gets it.'

Harry grinned, feeling a rush of unexpected joy. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the Dursleys weren't watching, then leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where are you from?" he asked.

The snake flicks its tongue toward a small sign beside the glass. 'Boa Constrictor. Brazil'. Harry read, his grin widening. "So, you've never been there?"

The snake shook its head slowly, and Harry felt a pang of sympathy. "It must be awful, stuck here all day…"

Just then, a loud, impatient shout sounded from behind him. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE!"

Dudley barreled toward him, shoving Harry out of the way with a hard punch to his ribs. Harry fell back onto the cold concrete, a sharp sting spreading through his side. But before he could even process what was happening, he heard Dudley and Piers scream, and a gasp spread through the crowd.

The glass had disappeared.

The snake uncoiled, sliding smoothly out of its enclosure as people screamed and scattered, rushing for the exit. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the snake slithered past him, its body almost brushing his leg. He thought he heard a soft hiss as it passed, something like, 'Brazil, here I come. Thanks, amigo'.

By the time they left the reptile house, the zoo staff were apologizing to Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia was pale and furious, and Dudley and Piers couldn't stop babbling about how the snake had nearly bitten them. As for Harry, he was left with a strange sense of wonder—and dread, because he knew there would be a price for what had happened.

When they returned home, Uncle Vernon all but threw Harry into his cupboard under the stairs. "Stay in there!" he bellowed, his face flushed and furious. "And no meals for you tonight!"

The door slammed shut, locking Harry in darkness. He leaned against the wall, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to calm down. That strange feeling from the reptile house—the joy, the excitement—had evaporated, replaced by the familiar ache of loneliness.

Later, when the house grew silent, he sat up, gazing at the tiny sliver of light that came through the crack under the cupboard door. A strange restlessness stirred in him, a feeling like the one he'd had in the zoo. It started as a small tug, pulling at his chest, then grew stronger, as though something beyond the Dursleys' house was calling him, drawing him outside. Strangely the cupboard lock get unlock by itself

Quietly, Harry stood, tiptoeing to the door and pressing his ear to it. Hearing nothing, he eased the door open and slipped outside. He felt something was amis, from the cupboard and the door being unlocked. The pull grew stronger, a steady, gentle force guiding him toward the edge of the forest near the house. He didn't know why, but it felt right—like the pull he'd felt when he looked into the snake's eyes.

He walked faster, then broke into a run, his feet moving of their own accord, the cool night air brushing his face. He ran through the streets, past the quiet houses, and into the forest, his heart racing with something he couldn't name—excitement, maybe, or hope.

Finally, he stopped. In the middle of the forest, amidst the tall, dark trees, stood a door. A large glass door with a dark, polished frame, gleaming in the moonlight. There was no building, no wall, only the door, standing alone, silent and waiting.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took a hesitant step forward. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing the cool glass. The moment his hand touched the handle, he felt a rush, as if he were being swept up in a powerful current. His feet lifted off the ground, and the world around him spun, colors blurring together.

In a final tug, the door pulled him inside, and Harry disappeared into the unknown.