July 1991, London, England
The city after a rain always carried the earthy scent of damp soil, with the sun peeking timidly from behind dark clouds.
At the door of an unassuming little pub on Charing Cross Road, William Bedivere, sporting dark sunglasses, pushed his way inside.
Inside the pub, a plain-looking, slightly balding middle-aged man was vigorously wiping down the counter with a tattered rag.
He looked up and spotted the tall, handsome, dark-haired man at the entrance.
"Well, well! Mr. Bedivere, welcome, welcome! The usual? A butterbeer?"
"Shh, Tom! Keep it down! I'm here with my son today to get his Hogwarts supplies," William quickly hushed him, gesturing to lower his voice before waving to someone behind him.
"Come on, darling, bring Edward in."
Anne Morgan—a tall, elegant witch with a lazy brown ponytail—squeezed through the doorway, leading a young boy.
The boy looked almost like a carbon copy of William, except for his emerald-green eyes and brown hair, which he clearly inherited from his mother.
Edward Morgan Bedivere gave a polite bow to the pub's owner.
"Well, I'll be! I didn't even see Mrs. Morgan there!"
Tom flashed a wide, ingratiating grin, nodding repeatedly, completely ignoring William's plea for discretion.
"And young Mr. Bedivere, as polite as ever—a true gentleman!"
William sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew Tom hadn't heard a single word of his request for quiet.
The commotion at the entrance silenced the otherwise noisy pub in an instant.
All eyes turned to the door.
"Good heavens! It's the Bedivere family!"
"Mr. William! Can I get your autograph? I've read every single one of your interviews in Witch Weekly!" A wizard rushed forward, grabbing William's hands in excitement.
"Mrs. Morgan, that color-changing lipstick you launched is absolutely brilliant! And that transforming brooch! Could you spare two minutes for an interview with The Daily Prophet?" A witch practically teleported to Anne's side, her enthusiasm bordering on Apparition.
"Mr. William—!" "Mrs. Morgan—!"
William and Anne were almost instantly swarmed by the crowd of eager witches and wizards.
Edward managed to slip out from the chaos, watching his parents struggle to handle the enthusiastic fans. He shrugged with a wry smile.
He was used to scenes . After all, his parents were celebrities in the wizarding fashion world.
Edward Morgan Bedivere had been in this world for eleven years since his mysterious arrival.
Though he wasn't too familiar with Harry Potter, he'd realized early on that this was a magical world. Moving portraits, garden gnomes, floating dishes, a broomstick tucked away in the closet, and his parents' wands were all clues.
Not to mention the Hogwarts crests scattered around the house, alongside Gryffindor's lion and Slytherin's snake.
His father, the tall and dashing William Bedivere, was a renowned wizarding model and a descendant of Sir Bedivere, one of the Knights of the Round Table.
His mother, Anne Morgan, was a celebrated designer whose magical cosmetics and accessories—like color-changing lipsticks and transforming brooches—had taken the wizarding world by storm. She was also a direct descendant of the infamous witch, Morgan le Fay.
Edward still couldn't wrap his head around how a descendant of Bedivere and a descendant of Morgan le Fay ended up married with a kid, but reality was often stranger than fiction.
Today was the day Edward received his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Overjoyed, William and Anne had decided to personally take him to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies.
Everything had gone smoothly—except for the part where they were now mobbed by fans at the Leaky Cauldron's entrance.
The pub's noise continued to escalate, with witches and wizards trying to pass through to Diagon Alley getting stuck at the door.
At first, they were annoyed, but upon hearing William and Anne's names, they eagerly joined the autograph line.
Tom's face twisted with a hint of regret for his earlier loud outburst.
The crowd was blocking the entrance, halting his business and clogging the path to Diagon Alley.
"Sorry about this, Tom," Edward said, looking at the chaos. "My parents are totally disrupting your pub."
"To make up for it, I'd like to treat everyone here to a butterbeer. Will these cover it?"
He pulled two gleaming gold Galleons from his pocket and placed them on the counter.
Tom's face lit up like a Lumos charm.
"You're too kind, lad! I'll need to get you some change—"
"No need," Edward said with a grin. "Keep the Sickles as a little thank-you."
"Your dad's told me countless times what a kind, generous, and polite boy you are, and he wasn't kidding! I'll get those butterbeers ready!" Tom's smile grew even wider as he pocketed the coins and turned to fetch the drinks.
"You're too kind, Tom," Edward replied, nodding with a faint smile.
His smile wasn't just for the compliment. Deep inside, he felt a familiar spark—his "Knight's Blessing" had stirred again.
At some point, Edward had realized that by upholding knightly virtues, he could unlock special blessings:
Humility: Stay humble, and you'll gain extraordinary focus. Honesty: Be sincere, and you'll have unmatched judgment. Compassion: Show mercy to the weak, and you'll develop heightened perception.
He wasn't sure if these blessings were tied to his Bedivere lineage, but living by these virtues wasn't easy. At first, he thought simply acting virtuous would be enough, but the blessings only activated when his actions came from the heart.
That said, being virtuous didn't mean being a pushover. These principles didn't apply to those with ill intent.
Over the years, Edward had only unlocked three blessings: Humility (Level 2), Honesty (Level 1), and Compassion (Level 1).
Focus helped him study with laser-like concentration, making learning twice as effective. Judgment let him discern truth from lies. Perception sharpened his awareness of the world, like picking up on others' emotions.
His knack for sensing Tom's mood swings? That was his perception at work.
Just now, his courteous humility had pushed his focus from Level 2 to Level 3.
A wave of fulfillment and joy surged through him.
In my last life, I didn't have a choice. But in this one, I want to be a good person—or rather, a good wizard.
"Listen up, everyone!" Tom shouted from behind the counter, now stacked with foaming butterbeers. "Young Mr. Edward has just announced he's treating every customer here to a butterbeer! Let's hear it for Edward!"
The witches and wizards, who moments ago were swarming William and Anne, now rushed to the bar to claim their drinks.
"Three cheers for Edward!"
The pub erupted in a joyful, lively buzz.