Coronation and Responsibility

The conversation went about as badly as Sal had expected.

"So, let me get this straight," Lindsey said, crossing her arms and giving Sal her sharpest 'mom' glare from across the sitting room. "This year it's soul-sucking creatures. Last year it was a basilisk. And the year before that, a wraith of a dark lord. Honestly, Salazar, I'm seriously considering pulling you out of that school altogether just for your own safety."

Sal sighed. "Mum, you can't be serious."

"I don't know," Julius added from his armchair, leaning back with a smirk. "If you ask me, all the chaos seemed to start the moment young Potter enrolled. Coincidence? I think not."

Sal groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You do realize I graduate next year, right? There's not much point pulling me out now."

"Which brings us neatly to why we wanted to talk to you," Julius said, his tone suddenly shifting to something far more official. "Your coronation. As Wizard King."

Sal blinked. "I'm sorry, my what now?"

Julius grinned. "Come now, Sal. This was always the plan. Once you finished your formal education, we'd hold your coronation. Technically speaking, you're really only a student on paper at this point."

Lindsey nodded. "We agreed it's time. You'll be crowned this summer, but you won't fully step into your responsibilities until after you finish your last year."

Sal leaned back in his chair, running the thought over in his head. "It just feels like there's still so much I need to do first. Hogwarts, the dueling teams, the research I've been working on…"

"And you'll still have time for those things," Julius said. "But some of the groundwork has to start now. Don't worry—we're not tossing you onto the throne tomorrow."

Lindsey leaned forward, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We know it's a lot, sweetheart. But you're ready. You've proven that a hundred times over."

Sal exhaled slowly, nodding. "Alright. So, what's next?"

"Well," Julius said, standing and stretching, "give me a week to start making the proper arrangements, and we'll go from there."

Sal smiled faintly. "Guess I better make good use of the time I have left, then."

"Yes," Lindsey agreed with a grin. "Like staying out of mortal danger for once."

"No promises," Sal said with a shrug.

And despite everything, they all laughed.

The morning of the coronation arrived with a kind of stillness Sal hadn't expected.

The sun was just beginning to rise over Albion, spilling golden light across the castle's high towers and the sprawling, ancient courtyards. Sal stood at his window, staring out over the land he was about to rule, the weight of it pressing heavier on his shoulders than any armor he had ever worn.

A soft knock came at the door.

"It's open," Sal called.

Tonks peeked her head in, her hair shifting through shades of nervous pink. "You up for this? Or do I need to drag you out of bed?"

Sal smirked. "I'm up. Mostly. But if you feel like dragging me, I won't complain."

She stepped in fully, leaning against the doorframe. "It's weird, you know? Seeing you like this. Wizard King. I mean, I always knew you were important, but now…"

"Now I'm important and wearing uncomfortable robes," Sal finished dryly, gesturing to the ceremonial outfit laid out across his bed. Rich black and silver fabric, embroidered with ancient runes of Albion's royal line. The cloak alone looked like it weighed as much as a small child.

Tulip arrived moments later, holding a box. "I thought you'd need this," she said, offering it to him.

Sal opened it, finding a perfectly polished circlet of silver and onyx resting on a bed of velvet. "Thanks. I was starting to worry I'd have to wear something ridiculous."

"You are," Tonks quipped, eyeing the elaborate attire. "Just… elegantly ridiculous."

Sal chuckled, but the smile faded as he looked down at the crown. "This is really happening."

Tulip stepped closer. "You've already been carrying the weight of it, Sal. Today's just the part where everyone else finally acknowledges it."

With their help, Sal dressed in the formal robes. As they straightened the silver clasp at his throat and adjusted the circlet atop his head, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. For the first time, he didn't just see a boy who loved magic and studying and dueling—he saw a leader. A protector.

"Ready?" Tonks asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Sal said.

The throne room of Albion was unlike anything at Hogwarts. The stonework shimmered faintly with enchantments from ages past, and the banners of the founding families hung proudly overhead. The crowd gathered was a mix of nobles, magical dignitaries, and foreign envoys, their hushed conversations echoing softly beneath the vaulted ceilings.

Sal stood at the entrance to the hall, waiting for his cue. Julius, dressed in his finest, approached and placed a hand on Sal's shoulder.

"You've done your father proud, Sal. Today we finally see the plan through. Just remember—this is your throne. You lead it your way."

Lindsey was there too, looking radiant and proud. "No matter what happens, remember that we are with you," she whispered.

Sal nodded, breathing deeply as the doors opened, and the music began.

He walked the length of the hall slowly, each step echoing. The assembled crowd bowed as he passed, and at the end of the room, the ancient throne of Albion awaited him—carved from marble and obsidian, inlaid with runes that glowed faintly as he approached.

As Sal knelt, Julius raised the crown. "By the power of Albion and the will of its people, we crown you Salazar Cross, Wizard King of Albion."

The circlet was placed on his head. The magic of the throne room stirred, and the runes along the walls pulsed in recognition of the new king.

Sal rose and turned to face the room.

"I am honored," he began, his voice strong and clear, "to accept this responsibility. Albion has stood as a sanctuary and a place of knowledge and peace. I vow to protect that legacy, to defend our people, and to honor the sacrifices that brought us here. Together, we will keep Albion strong and united."

The hall erupted in applause.

From the back of the room, Tonks and Tulip beamed, and Sal gave them the smallest, most grateful smile.

For the first time, the title didn't feel so heavy.

This was where he was meant to be.

The sun was beginning to set over the dueling arena, casting a golden glow over the cheering crowd. The air crackled with excitement and magic as Sal stood at the center of the ring, catching his breath. This was exactly what he needed—the rush of competition, the thrill of the fight.

He turned his gaze upward, soaking in the applause. Six years… he thought. Six years since my mom brought me to this world. Heir to the four houses, future wizard king… and here I am, still just a guy who loves to duel.

Before he could lose himself in reflection, Fleur approached, brushing her silver hair out of her face as she walked with her usual graceful poise. "So, Sal, what do you say? Winner buys dinner?" she teased, tilting her head with a playful smile.

Sal smirked, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Fleur Delacour… are you asking me out on a date?"

"In your dreams," she shot back with a laugh, her cheeks pink but her confidence unwavering.

"You wound me," Sal said, feigning hurt as he straightened his robes. "After such an elegant duel, I thought for sure you were confessing your undying affection."

"Keep dreaming," Fleur grinned, but there was warmth behind her words.

The arena was alive with roaring cheers as Sal stepped into the dueling ring. The magical barriers shimmered around him, containing the space in a glow of protective enchantments. Across from him, Fleur Delacour stood poised and elegant, her silver hair braided neatly over her shoulder. The sunlight caught on the delicate threads of blue woven into her Beauxbatons robes, giving her an almost ethereal presence.

"Try to keep up, mon prince," Fleur called out, her French accent curling around the words like silk.

Sal tilted his head. "Oh, I intend to do far more than that." He gave a playful wink as the announcer's voice boomed above them.

"Witches and wizards! For our final match of the evening, we have the reigning champion of Hogwarts, Salazar Cross, versus Beauxbatons' own Fleur Delacour!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Wands raised. Bows exchanged.

"Begin!"

Fleur was the first to move, her spell as graceful as her stance. "Ventus Spiralis!" she cast, summoning a spiraling gust of wind that whipped toward Sal, laced with shimmering, razor-thin currents of air designed to throw him off balance.

Sal reacted with effortless calm, flicking his wrist in a tight arc. "Protego!" The shield charm shimmered into place, absorbing the brunt of the wind, but Fleur was already moving. She didn't stay still long, dancing around the stage in fluid steps, each movement an elegant, practiced display of finesse.

Sal grinned. Alright then. Let's dance.

He shifted his stance and extended his free hand, summoning a small sphere of water from his wand. With practiced focus, he spun it into a coiling serpent that slithered through the air toward her. "Aqua Serpentia!"

Fleur twirled, narrowly dodging as the serpent snapped just past her shoulder. "Impressive," she murmured, countering with a flurry of silver sparks. "Éclairs de Lune!" Crescent-shaped arcs of glowing moonlight shot toward him, slicing the air.

Sal deflected the first with a shield, the second with a twist of his body, but the third grazed his sleeve. "Close one," he muttered. "Guess I'll have to get serious."

Raising both hands now, Sal abandoned his wand altogether. The crowd gasped, recognizing the hallmark of his style—wandless magic. His fingers curled in a series of complex motions, his magic thrumming through the air as he gathered the moisture from the arena's atmosphere.

Water pooled beneath Fleur's feet, sudden and slick. Her eyes widened in realization just as Sal whispered, "Aqua Ascendere."

The water shot upward like a geyser beneath her, forcing her into a backflip to escape. She landed gracefully, though slightly winded, and pointed her wand toward the sky.

"Solaris!" Fleur summoned a burst of radiant, blinding light. Sal shielded his eyes for a split second, which was all the opening she needed.

"Expelliarmus!" Fleur's voice rang out clear and sharp.

Sal barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side with the fluid motion of someone well-trained in physical combat. "Not bad," he called out, his voice echoing through the arena.

But he wasn't finished.

With a swift motion, Sal stomped his foot, channeling his magic into the ground itself. Thin tendrils of water shot up from the cracks in the stage, twisting together like a coiled dragon. With a final push of magic, he unleashed it.

"Hydra Tempestas!" Sal shouted.

A roaring water dragon formed, its translucent body spiraling toward Fleur. She raised her wand to defend, casting multiple barriers in succession, but the force of the hydra broke through, knocking her off her feet and to the edge of the ring.

The bell sounded. The match was over.

Cheers thundered from the stands.

Sal quickly jogged over and offered his hand, helping Fleur to her feet.

"That was a good duel," he said, genuinely impressed. "I thought you had me with that light spell."

She accepted his hand and gave him a sly smile. "So did I. But next time, you won't be so lucky."

Sal laughed. "In that case, I'll have to make sure our next match is somewhere with plenty of water."

Fleur rolled her eyes but smiled. "Just don't pick the most expensive restaurant you can think of."

"No promises," Sal winked. "A victory dinner is still a victory dinner."

As they left the stage, side by side, Sal couldn't help but think that this—this thrill of dueling, the camaraderie of rivals, the pulse of magic in his veins—was exactly why he loved this life.

And he hoped it wouldn't be his last chance to enjoy it before the responsibilities of a crown weighed too heavily on his shoulders.