Harry potter: I am the king of United Kingdom

Arthur stood in the glowing chamber, Excalibur in one hand and his newly summoned grimoire floating beside him. The book radiated an ancient aura, its leather-bound cover inscribed with glowing runes and symbols that seemed to shift under his gaze. The pages fluttered open, revealing incantations and diagrams Arthur could barely comprehend but instinctively understood were tied to his bloodline.

Atreus stepped forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. "A grimoire of the Pendragon lineage," he mused. "Not many have seen one of these. It seems the sword has awakened more than just your courage."

Arthur glanced down at the Ebony Blade, its dark energy swirling ominously. He could feel its pull, a subtle but persistent whisper in the back of his mind. He tightened his grip on Excalibur, the holy blade's light pushing back against the darkness.

"I can't keep this," Arthur said, turning to Atreus. "The Ebony Blade's power… it's not meant for me. It requires someone strong enough to resist its temptations, someone who understands its burden."

Atreus raised an eyebrow. "And you think that's me?"

Arthur smiled faintly. "You've been my guide, my mentor. If anyone can keep it in check, it's you."

Atreus hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Very well. But know this, Arthur—this blade is not a gift. It's a responsibility. If I take it, I will bear its curse, so that you can carry Excalibur's light."

Arthur handed the Ebony Blade to Atreus, its dark energy seeming to settle in his hands. Atreus studied the weapon, then sheathed it in a black scabbard that materialized at his side.

"Now," Atreus said, his tone lightening, "there's one place we need to visit before your journey continues."

The Spiderwick Estate

The two travelled to the outskirts of the kingdom, where a grand but dilapidated manor loomed on a misty hill. The once-proud Pendragon manor had been abandoned for years, its walls overtaken by ivy and its windows clouded with dust. At some point, it had been renamed the Spiderwick Estate, a place whispered about in hushed tones as a haven for the strange and the mystical.

As they approached, the heavy wooden door creaked open on its own, revealing a stout woman with a stern expression and a cane. She wore a simple but elegant black dress, her hair tied in a neat bun.

"Nanny McPhee," Arthur said, recognizing her from the stories his mother had told him.

The housekeeper gave a slight bow. "Master Arthur, it's been some time. You've grown." She looked at Atreus and gave a curt nod. "And you've brought a guest. I assume this is not a social call?"

Arthur shook his head. "We need to access the old master bedroom."

Nanny McPhee arched an eyebrow. "You know what lies beyond that door. Are you sure you're ready?"

Arthur exchanged a glance with Atreus, then nodded. "I am."

The Door to Narnia

The master bedroom was surprisingly well-kept compared to the rest of the estate. The large canopy bed was draped in velvet, and the ornate furniture still bore the Pendragon crest. But Arthur's attention was fixed on the large wardrobe in the corner.

He approached it, his heart pounding. "This is it," he murmured.

Atreus rested a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, the journey doesn't end here. It begins."

Arthur opened the wardrobe, pushing aside the fur coats that hung within. Beyond them was not the wooden back of the wardrobe but a swirling portal of light and frost. Without hesitation, the two stepped through.

Beyond the Wardrobe

Arthur and Atreus emerged into a snowy forest, the air crisp and filled with the faint scent of pine. They were in Narnia, a world of wonder and magic. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked, their breaths visible in the cold air.

Arthur glanced around, marvelling at the beauty of the land. "So this is Narnia," he said.

Atreus smiled faintly. "A world of endless possibilities. But we're not here to stay."

They continued deeper into the forest, eventually coming to a shimmering boundary—an invisible barrier that marked the edge of Narnia. Atreus extended the Ebony Blade, its dark energy cutting through the barrier like a hot knife through butter.

Beyond the boundary, the landscape shifted. Snow gave way to rolling green fields and towering castles. The air grew warmer, filled with the distant sound of trumpets and the murmur of a bustling city.

Camelot

The two stood at the gates of Camelot, its golden spires glistening in the sunlight. The city was alive with activity, knights in gleaming armor patrolling the streets, and banners bearing the Pendragon crest fluttering in the breeze.

Arthur's heart swelled with a mix of pride and trepidation. This was the city of his ancestors, the seat of his legacy.

As they stepped through the gates, a voice called out.

"Arthur Pendragon!"

They turned to see an elderly man in flowing robes, his staff glowing with arcane symbols. His eyes sparkled with wisdom and mischief.

"Merlin," Atreus said, his tone both surprised and respectful.

Merlin approached, his gaze fixed on Arthur. "You've returned," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "And you've brought Excalibur. But tell me, young Pendragon, are you prepared to face the trials that await you here?"

Arthur gripped Excalibur tightly. "I am."

Merlin's smile widened. "Good. Then let us begin."

As the gates of Camelot closed behind them, Arthur felt a sense of destiny settle over him. The trials of Narnia were behind him, but the true test of his worth as a Pendragon lay ahead.