Harry stared, his hand still in the air and facing the Queen. The fingers of his unmaimed hand curled protectively around the ring even as it scalded the air with excited heat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out Dudley standing from his chair. His cousin was certainly more prepared than he was, in any case.

"Cormac, Aaron, if you could kindly come in," the Queen called down the hallway. Harry tensed, and almost as an afterthought, she added, "Oh, but holster your weapons. They don't appear to be a threat."

Not ten seconds later, the Queen practically glided away from the door. Two men in jet-black suits entered, their hands on their hips. Harry winced when he realized that there were guns beneath their palms, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. The one on the left, the shorter of the two with auburn hair, noticed them first.

"You Majesty, I wasn't aware we were having guests," he said, his tone clipped and corded. Harry tried to sink into his seat, but he stiffened when the man's hand closed over his gun. "Are you sure they could be safe? You never know with kids. Might have bombs."

"Honestly, Cormac," the Queen muttered. "You're scaring them. And what kind of children would be able to get into Buckingham Palace was something as volatile as a bomb strapped to their chest, never mind two? They'd blow themselves up before they got into London with how inquisitive they are."

'Somehow, I get the feeling she's making fun of me,' Harry thought weakly. He tried to well up the fragments of defiance that were still scattered around his mind and stood. In an instant, Cormac's gun was trained at his heart, and the other man's at Dudley's. He stepped forward slowly, the book in his hand and the ring hastily shoved in his pocket.

"Your Majesty," he began, thanking whatever deity existed that he didn't stutter. "I come on behalf of King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV, Last of his Name, regent of the Kingdom of Lucis, Protector of the Crystal. I am here to deliver a message and a gift, in goodwill to the one chosen to take up the Light and be granted the Crystal's power."

A single trimmed eyebrow rose at the declaration, and Harry allowed himself a quick moment to breathe. He'd practiced that almost the entire time he was in the car, thinking of the best words he'd learned from the various dictionaries he'd skimmed in the library.

"You speak some interesting words for a kid," Aaron muttered. He didn't lower his gun, but he did turn his eyes toward Harry. "And some nonsensical ones at that. How old are you, boy?"

"I'm getting real tired of being called boy," Harry growled. More loudly, he said, "My name is Harry, and this is Dudley."

"No last names?" Cormac said mildly. Harry recognized this routine from one of the dramas Aunt Petunia loved to leave on the television when Uncle Vernon was at work. He almost liked the "good cop, bad cop" approach, if only because he was used to the bad cop the whole way around.

"Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley," Harry grudgingly admitted. The Queen's other eyebrow rose, though he could barely see that far. None of the lights had been flicked on. It wasn't hard to figure out why; his hand was glowed brightly in the dimness of night, and it wouldn't be hard to put a few bullet holes in his chest if the only light source in the room came attached to his arm.

Almost as though he'd been reading Harry's thoughts, Dudley managed to whisper, "Can we turn the lights on please?"

Cormac almost started, but with a glance and a nod at the Queen, he lowered his gun briefly to flick on the lightswitch next to the door. A burst of yellowing color illuminated Harry's eyes. He placed his crystal-laced hand on his forehead, trying to rub away the sudden splitting ache in his head.

Now that he could get a good look at the room, it seemed much smaller than he'd first thought. Even for a tea room it was cramped; with all the furniture and five people scattered across the rug, there was barely any space to move. His hands crept away from his forehead when Cormac's gun trained back on him, this time staring straight down his face.

The safety clicked off when his fingers curled around the ring in his pocket. Harry brought it out slowly. The ring practically vibrated in his grip, releasing waves of heat so intense he was surprised his skin hadn't burst into flames yet. A single white-hot ember radiated from the center of the ring, cradled by black and silver metals. "The Ring of the Lucii," he breathed. "Granted to Queen Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, Second of her Name, in hopes of rekindling the Light and reforging the Crystal once more."

A shuddering breath left his lungs. 'Where did that come from?' he thought wildly, eyes still trained on the flaring diamond embedded in the ring. Bluish sparks crackled and fizzed through the air around it. He heard a second click, and there was an instant of fear before it was subsumed by the immense warmth of the Crystal fragment in the ring. His veins pulsed in unison, burning blue, then white, then an unimaginably deep gold.

"Put the ring down," Cormac warned, his eyes hard. "Your Majesty, I must insist you return to your quarters." A number of unspoken things seemed to pass between Cormac and Aaron, even though neither of them so much as glanced at the other. "Aaron, double the guard around Her Majesty's chambers. Make sure one of them is trained in defusing explosives."

Aaron nodded and backed towards the door, but before he could move more than a few feet back the ring rose. It caught fire above Harry's palm, familiar azure tendrils licking at the metal. "Granted by the King of Lucis," he intoned, lips moving of their own accord. "Be the Light that sheds grace on the world."

Luckily, he could still move his head. Dudley appeared to be thunderstruck when he whipped his head towards his cousin, eyes wide and bloodshot. There was a note of longing in his brown eyes that Harry was all too familiar with. Dudley's legs tensed, probably a quick motion to grab it, but as if sensing danger, the ring floated forward.

Crystal shed in its wake, chunks of glimmering, clear, resonant gemstone that sparkled in the firelight. Harry caught one between his fingers, heedless of the gun that was still pointing at his face. It melted in his hand to become a sifting pile of glittering dust. He allowed it to slip through his fingers and stared at the ring as it wafted towards the Queen.

Aaron, his dark hair flapping wildly as he dove for the ring, managed to get within a few feet of it. Harry turned and yelled for him to stop, but the ring moved quickly, speeding up and barely avoiding the grab. In response, a tendril of blue fire emerged from the mass of light and struck Aaron across the chest. Ignoring his cry of pain—a familiar scream, one that he'd echoed not a day before—Harry watched with mortified fascination as the flames traveled across Aaron's torso. Crystal grew from skin in its wake, piercing through any of the suit that hadn't been burned in a grisly diagonal slash. The veins pulsed once, twice, three times in their haste to crawl to the surface. Cormac snarled and raised his gun. Echoes of gunshots, strangely slow and muffled, reached Harry's ears, but he couldn't see a muzzle flash or an impact. The ring simply continued to burn brighter and brighter.

In the middle of it all stood the Queen, eyes as flat and unfazed as ever. Her eyebrows had sunk into something akin to concentration, though Harry couldn't quite tell with the even layer of light the ring was shedding across the entire room. She reached out, fingers only a scant few inches away from the ring. Fire, so hot Harry could barely stand being in the same room, blazed in her outstretched palm.

She slipped it over the middle finger of her left hand, and the world vanished.

Harry blinked. Instantaneous darkness was something he was beginning to become accustomed to, despite his attempts not to. After the fork and the light-lance, he even braced himself for some sort of change in orientation. None of it came, however, and light didn't suddenly blossom around him once more like it had for the others.

Just pure, impenetrable blackness, with only himself, Aaron, and the Queen still around.

"Well," the Queen said, her tome prim. "This is unexpected. Are you severely injured, Aaron? Will we need to take you to a physician?"

"Don't think so, Your Majesty," Aaron said gruffly, rubbing at his chest. "Other than whatever the hell—my apologies, Your Majesty—this is on my chest, I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. Question we should be asking is what happened to Cormac and the other boy."

"And why Mr. Potter accompanied us to this place, and not Mr. Dursley or Cormac," the Queen added. She turned a disarmingly sweet smile in Harry's direction. "There was something curious about your hand, I recall. Something you didn't want us to see."

Harry nodded, but he made no move to show them the hand still shoved in his pocket. It was only when Aaron's gun came up once again, though it was shaking with every breath, that Harry showed them the back of his palm. The Queen peered at his crystal-laced hand for a moment, then turned to Aaron. "It seems we have our answer to both questions," she said. "It seems that whoever is in possession of these interesting crystals have made the journey to this place."

"The Proving Grounds," Harry gasped, whipping his head from side to side. Aaron stepped forward, his footfall silent in the encroaching darkness. "Sorry—er, it was what Noct called the place where the next king is judged. The Proving Grounds."

"As fit a name as any, I suppose," another voice said. This time, Aaron didn't hesitate before firing off a few shots into the bleak distance. "Now, that was rude. I'm certain my son didn't give this ring out just so I could be shot."

Slowly, a man clad in pale white armor emerged from the darkness. As though he was a ghost, he appeared in smoke; one moment there was naught but darkness, the next a wispy, ephemeral outline of a king stood outside of their circle. A second figure joined him not moments later, clad in armor just as ornate. Pauldrons and greaves and all sorts of metals were wrought with incredible precision, produced by wisps of smoke so fine they could barely be called threads.

"This is the next king of Lucis?" the second figure asked, watching the Queen carefully. He shook his head. "She is too old; she will be unable to maintain the Wall for more than three years before wasting away."

"The Wall fell, old man," a third voice entered. Harry stared up at the newest figure, approaching from the darkness with a confidence reserved for brazenness. His gait was familiar, and somehow, through the intricate armor and gleaming wisps of fog, Harry knew that he was staring at Noctis Lucis Caelum. "The Wall fell years ago. Lucis is a shattered ruin."

More armored individuals approached from the emptiness, first one, then five, then twenty. A full hundred and more stepped forward, growing in number and size until one hundred and fourteen individuals encircled the three of them. Harry called on his light-lance, just in case. It sucked most of the returning warmth from his bones, but by the time it was finished forming, he could feel power buzzing along the edges of his skin.

"Your Majesty, please step away from the—ghosts." To his credit, Aaron only stumbled on the word "ghosts" a bit before regaining his composure. The heat of the ring didn't seem to bother him quite as much as it had before, and the fire practically ignored the Queen. No, Harry could see it encroaching, just extremely slowly. It had barely reached the base of her knuckle in the several minutes it took for the spirits to gather.

"Tosh, Aaron," the Queen snorted. "Whatever they are, they can't well run us through yet. See?" Without the slightest hint of hesitation she strode over to Noctis and swiped a hand through him. Noctis let out an unamused grunt, but the Queen retreated to Aaron with a satisfied smile.

"Noctis," Harry muttered. The light-lance didn't dissipate, but Harry found himself staring up at the armored man. "I found her."

"That you did, Harry Potter. That you did. Now," he said, more loudly. The spirits, which had all been making some form of quiet noise, fell utterly silent. "It is time to judge the next king of the Lucii. There are no more members left to the Lucian line, so, as I propose, our legacy of Ring and Crystal be passed to the Bowes-Lyon line, of which King Elizabeth is the next progenitor."

"Ah, but there is one amongst our number missing," the original king called. Immediately, a murmur ran through the circle of kings, most portraying some mention of distaste.

"He is not a king, Regis!" the second man exclaimed. It was only when he slammed it down that Harry realized he was holding an absolutely monstrous sword. "There is no precedent for this type of event. The Lucian line has died, true, but he does not get to influence its successors."

"Nyx Ulric gave his life for Lucis!" Regis roared back, startling everyone present. Even the Queen blinked and stepped back from Regis' furiously glowing form. "He dealt the empire a crippling blow and uprooted the seeds of corruption from our city even as Insomnia was destined to fall. He will be making this choice with us, and that is the final word on this matter!"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Your Majesty," a new voice said calmly, almost amused. "If you don't mind, I think I'll stand next to you."

The figure that broke through the crowd of armored kings was smaller than the rest, not as well-defined. His smoky outline was smudged slightly, and there was no ornate tracery on his armor. However, he still stood tall and confident, if a little crouched. "It's an honor to assist in choosing the next of the Lucian line," he said, nodding to the outraged king. "I may not be a king of Lucis, but I fought my hardest and I did what I could."

"The same could be said of many of your fellow Kingsglaive," the king growled.

"But they weren't the ones who activated the Old Wall, were they?" the new figure, Nyx, interrupted. "You were the one who gave me the power to fight, and everyone who receives the Ring's power is Inscribed into the Ring at their death. You were the one who was gifted this power, so you must take responsibility for it."

The king almost stepped forward. Noctis strode quickly across the platform, his massive armored boot passing clean through Harry, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Poenus," he said, his voice both quiet and booming. "Allow him to assist. We are missing a king as it is, and I can think of no better man than Nyx to stand in Ardyn's place."

Poenus fell silent. "I was not a man who saw reason in those days," he said eventually. "And I will not see it now. But should he wish it, Nyx Ulric will be allowed to substitute for Ardyn Lucis Caelum in the Judgment of Kings."

Nyx stood back, his hazy outline sharpening just slightly before dimming back to its usual indistinct cloud. "Then we shall proceed, with all one hundred and fourteen kings present. Each will judge, and in turn, each will be judged. Step forward, Bearer of the Ring."

Harry almost moved, but a sharp look from Noctis had him frozen. The Queen approached Poenus calmly, her eyes glittering and hard. Her gait didn't betray anything, though Harry thought he saw the faintest of tremors run through her spine before she steadied herself.

Poenus took one look at her, then stepped back. "She is worthy," he said. He vanished into a flicker of rising smoke, only to be replaced by the next king in the circle. Another moment passed, followed by the same line.

For more than twenty minutes, Harry barely dared to breathe. Each one of the kings of Lucis—many of whom, he realized, were very clearly female—moved towards the Queen, whether they merely looked into her eyes or placed a hand on her shoulder. Every single one of them found her worthy, but of what he couldn't discern. Aaron somehow came to rest beside him sometime during the ordeal. The light from their crystals mingled oddly, as though it wafted towards the kings in a blurry swirl rather than straight beams.

Finally, Noctis stepped up to take his place next to the Queen. Despite what Harry thought, he didn't just look at her and declare her worthy. He sat, reclining on the air as though it were a chair, and steepled his gauntleted fingers. "It seems as though you've earned my predecessors' respect," he said after a moment. "You must be confused. Please, take a seat yourself, and I shall explain. You as well, Harry, and your companion on the floor."

Harry started. He darted to the semicircle Noctis had managed to indicate, taking a seat on hard light. It didn't even begin to bend under his weight, though it felt so light he could pick up the invisible construct effortlessly. Aaron moved more slowly, rubbing at his chest, but eventually he sat as well. Only the Queen remained standing. "Even if one offers a seat," she said when Nyx nodded to her, "I think I shall stand."

"Well said," Noctis replied, a wry smile in his voice. Harry blinked away his confusion and focused more intently on the lines forming Noctis' helm. They weren't as clear as the intricate filigree inscribed into Poenus' or even Regis', but there was an air of elegance to them that the other kings lacked. Even the most graceful among them, a woman dressed in robes instead of armor that practically glided along the pure black ground, couldn't match the relaxed posture of the king in front of him.

"I must thank you, Harry," Noctis admitted. "I only passed on a week past, and you still managed to find my successor in record time. The Ring of the Lucii… well, its choices aren't always what I agree with, but I think it has made the right choice when it comes to this one." He turned towards the Queen, still not removing his helmet or armor. "You see, Elizabeth, my kingdom was once a vast presence on Eos…"

The story Noctis told corroborated the tale the book had given him, if with a few bits and pieces of history that were left out of the text. Where Harry's story took a good ten minutes to tell to Dudley, Noctis' took well over thirty, and by the end even his ghostlike form sounded a bit out of breath.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you on the spot," the Queen said once he'd finished. "Your story leaves much to be desired, even if it is true."

"I suspect I could tell you the story in its fullness, a task that may well take days, and not a single moment would pass in the realm outside of the Ring," Noctis explained. "Nonetheless, I understand your skepticism, even if I disapprove of it. What more proof do you have than this?" He gestured to the inky black space, stretching for endless miles in every direction. "This is not a dream, I assure you, even if it feels like one. Magic is, undoubtedly, real."

"It would explain many things," the Queen agreed. "For instance, until the early Industrial Revolution hit its stride in Britain, the Royal Court had its own magister, though their purpose is not clear these days. The title still exists, I believe, passed down a number of generations. The last person to hold it is a youth that runs a questionably successful vineyard in Essex, I believe."

"Then why is it that you doubt?"

"It is not that I doubt, King Noctis," the Queen replied, leaning back on her invisible seat. "It is that I cannot afford to hold this ring. I have a country to look after. My title is little more than that, I admit, but I still have responsibilities, duties, and appearances to uphold. The people find solace in their Queen, even if their government is going to shite," and here she grinned when both Harry and Aaron jumped and stared at her, "and I simply do not have the time or the resources to build another kingdom."

"Then make Britain Lucis also," Noctis said simply. He raised his hand. A flash of light flared out from his palm, revealing a glossy, double-edged sword with a brick-like golden crossguard. Aaron moved to stand, but without a moment's hesitation the point of the blade swept under his chin. "A king of Lucis is not marked by how they expand their territory, or how they govern it. They are marked by destiny, by what they do to preserve the Crystal. The Crystal itself is safe—I have ensured that, at the very least—but my kingdom will go on even if its name is no longer Lucis."

The sword vanished, leaving Aaron to slump against the air. Harry reached out and patted his back in an admittedly awkward attempt at reassuring him. All it ended up doing was make Aaron jump a little more. "Britain is Lucis now," Noctis continued, "as Lucis is Britain. Do with the Ring as you will, but should you try and deny leadership, it will find its way back to you. If I have learned one thing from the many adventures I had with my companions, it is that destiny cannot be avoided, no matter what. You may try to force your way through it, move around it, or hide from it, but it will always find you in the end."

For the first time since he'd laid eyes on her, Harry saw the Queen falter and go silent. Noctis let out a deep sigh before turning to Harry. "You have done well, Harry Potter, but there is more to your legend yet. You will know what must be done when the time comes."

Noctis created his sword again, but this time the gleaming point didn't seem nearly as threatening. He tapped the Queen's shoulders, then her forehead, with the bare tip. "You are worthy," he intoned. "So the last of the Lucian Kings decrees, so too does the Ring declare. The one hundred and fifteenth king of Lucis, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, has been crowned. Lead Lucis well."

And with that, he was gone. The darkness receded, melting into the familiar walls of the tea room. Bare embers of bluish flame still guttered out in the air, as did comets of sparkling light that spewed from the ring on the Queen's finger. Harry glanced around before pitching backward with a yelp. The air had faded under his butt, and the ground that caught him left a throbbing lump on the back of his head. He grimaced.

"Are you alright, lad?" the Queen asked. Harry simply nodded, not trusting his mouth. Nothing trickled down his neck, at least, so no blood or water or anything else had been spilled.

The Queen sighed and turned to the door. "Aaron, can you stand?" Aaron nodded an affirmative, leaving her to smile slightly. Harry stared as she beckoned Cormac and Aaron towards the door. "Cormac, please contact Alonso and get these two situated in one of the guest quarters for the night. I fear there will be much to explain in the morning. Right now I need a stiff drink and a long rest."

"Your Majesty?" Cormac asked.

"Please, Cormac, just… just do it." Harry stared as she walked out of the room, rubbing her forehead.