Arthur Belmont-Prince and The Cursed Mirror: Harry Potter Fanfiction

The next morning, after conquering a breakfast spread that was less 'continental' and more 'army-sized' – I'm talking bacon towers and sausages that seemed to have given up on life – Aunt Iris and I stood at the mansion's gates.

These gates had an air of 'enter if you dare,' which, given my recent life changes, felt pretty on-brand.

Aunt Iris, sporting a hat that I was half-convinced had its own personality, turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Ready for round two, Arthur? Let's avoid a repeat of your grand entrance, shall we?"

My eyebrows tried to meet my hairline. "Teleporting again? Isn't that a bit, well, risky for a newbie like me?"

She gave her hat a playful tap—I'm pretty sure it winked back. "Teleporting is the spice of wizarding life, Arthur. You're a wizard now. Besides, it's faster than a broomstick and no traffic jams."

"Yeah, because getting magically scrambled sounds way better than sitting in traffic," I muttered, remembering how I arrived here thanks to a teleportation spell. The nausea had been unbearable, and I had thrown up right at her feet.

Iris's eyes twinkled with the thrill of potential disaster. "Oh, live a little! What's the worst that could happen?"

Famous last words.

With a gulp (and a silent prayer for my recently devoured breakfast), we joined hands, and with a whirl that would've impressed a tornado, we teleported - landing smack in front of a quaint, somewhat dodgy-looking pub. I clutched my stomach, trying to keep the hearty breakfast where it belonged.

"Better?" Iris asked, clearly enjoying this.

"By a hair,"I gasped, silently promising to invent teleportation with seatbelts.

After our rather turbulent arrival via teleportation, which had my stomach doing somersaults, Aunt Iris and I stepped into the dim, buzz-filled warmth of The Leaky Cauldron.

This place, with its low ceilings and the smell of something magical brewing, felt like stepping back in time.

Tom, the barman with a grizzled beard and a broad smile, spotted us immediately. His voice boomed across the chatter, "Iris, my favorite troublemaker! Who have you brought along this fine morning?"

"Arthur, meet Tom. Tom, this is my nephew, Arthur," Iris introduced with a flourish, her hat almost dipping in a bow.

Tom's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Arthur, as in the Arthur? Severus Prince's boy?" His shock echoed around the bar, suddenly turning every head towards me. Great, just what I needed—a spotlight.

"Yep, that's me," I muttered, wishing I could summon an invisibility cloak. Just throw that on the pile of 'Things I Need Along with a Stomach of Steel for Teleporting'.

Tom came around the bar, wiping his hands on his apron and approaching us with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store.

"Well, I'll be! Your dad was one of the bravest souls I've ever had the honor to serve. Drinks on the house for you, lad. Anyone related to Severus deserves that much."

I glanced at Iris, who seemed amused by all the fuss. "Thanks, Tom. I'm just trying not to trip over my own feet here, let alone fill any brave wizard's shoes."

Tom clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grin as wide as the bar. "You'll make your own mark, Arthur. You've got that same look in your eye as he did—like you're ready to take on the world."

As Tom busied himself pouring a drink that fizzed and sparkled with a life of its own, Aunt Iris leaned in, her voice low. "Arthur, you're more known than you think. This is your world too, not just Severus's."

"Ready to see more of your world, Arthur?" Iris asked as Tom handed me a drink that seemed to change colors with the light.

"Absolutely," I said, the nerves settling as I took my first sip. It tasted like liquid courage and a possible side of kiwi.

Tom chuckled, nodding approvingly. "That's the spirit. You ever need anything, you just come to ol' Tom. I've got stories and drinks aplenty."

With a reassuring nod from Iris, she led me through the Leaky Cauldron, the old pub creaked and moaned more than my last year's sneakers after a surprise monsoon.

—we came to a stop in front of what looked like just an ordinary brick wall. But after the past months I'd had, 'ordinary' was off the menu.

"Here it is, the gateway to Diagon Alley," Iris announced with a flourish, her voice rippling with both nostalgia and a dash of mischief. She pulled out a mask from her hat—a hat I was beginning to think was less an accessory and more a portal to Narnia.

"But before the real fun begins," she said while adjusting the mask, which looked like it belonged in a Venetian carnival, than a day out with your nephew.

"Listen, Arthur, this quirky alley is just the appetizer," Iris continued, lowering her voice to a whisper that could make a spy jealous. "There are a million and one ways to hop around our world. I'll show you a few, and you can pick whichever doesn't make you green in the face."

I squinted at her now somewhat obscured face, feeling like I was looking at her through a fogged-up window.

"Why go undercover all of a sudden? We were just making friends back there," I asked, a hint of my unease poking through.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously behind the mask. "Sometimes, the art of not being seen is just as important as the spectacle.

Recognition has its perks, but it also paints a big, bright target."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. "So, the wizarding world isn't just wands and wonder, huh?"

She chuckled softly, the sound rich with hidden layers. "Oh, Arthur, it's as stable as a potion on the boil—tranquil one moment, a tempest the next. Eyes and ears are everywhere, and not all are friendly."

A chill ran down my spine, unlinked to the chilly air seeping through the pub's old walls. The wizarding world was shaping up to be more of a strategic battlefield than the fanciful tale I'd imagined.

"Alright, lead the way, Aunt Mystique," I said, managing a grin that probably looked as confident as a toddler on a skateboard. Trying to channel some of that heroic vibe wasn't easy when your legs felt more like pudding than pillars.

Aunt Iris, facing what looked like just another brick wall in the back of The Leaky Cauldron, prepped her fingers like she was about to perform a complicated piece of magic. To an outsider, she might just look like she was gearing up to play an invisible piano, but I knew better. She tapped out a rhythm on the bricks—a kind of secret code that was probably as old as the stones themselves. I half-expected some dramatic music to kick in.

But no, the bricks started moving. They twisted and squirmed like they were part of some underground dance group, rearranging themselves until they formed an archway. It was straight out of a fantasy game, where secret passages opened with puzzles solved and levels up.

Walking through the archway felt like entering a different dimension. Diagon Alley unfolded in front of us, a riot of colors and noise that made my hometown markets in Romania seem like a quiet day in the library. Here, the air was thick with the smells of strange spices and magical herbs, the sounds of bargaining, and the occasional burst of laughter or spell.

"Welcome to the heart of the wizarding world," Iris proclaimed, sweeping her arm in a flourish that would've made any stage magician back home jealous. The street ahead was bustling with witches and wizards, creatures that looked like they'd jumped out of a folktale, and shops that buzzed with more than just customers.

As we stepped deeper into the Alley, I couldn't shake the thrill mixed with a twinge of homesickness. Here, in the heart of magical London, I was far from the Carpathian Mountains of Romania where I'd grown up—but maybe, just maybe, I could find a new kind of adventure here.

She gave a quiet giggle at my reaction and indicated for me to follow her.

I stepped through the archway, half-expecting to be hit by a rogue spell or a flying broomstick.

But instead, I was swept up in the tide of magical humanity (or whatever species some of these folks were).

"Every wizard must learn the art of subtlety and discretion," Iris whispered, her eyes scanning our surroundings with the vigilance of a seasoned spy. "And you, Arthur, are in the hands of the best."

The first shop that caught my eye looked like it had been built during a particularly confusing game of Jenga. Its sign proclaimed 'Eeylops Owl Emporium,' and the hooting from within suggested the owls were having a heated debate about politics or sports.

Next to it, a shop boasting a window display of shimmering cauldrons had steam puffing out in sync with a tune that sounded suspiciously like a wizarding version of a pop hit.

"Bit different from the shopping malls, eh?" Iris chuckled, watching my reaction.

I could only nod, my usual eloquence replaced by wide-eyed wonder. Diagon Alley wasn't just a shopping street; it was a living, breathing entity of the wizarding world. And I was about to dive headfirst into its vibrant chaos.--

Strolling down Diagon Alley felt like walking through a carnival designed by a committee of wizards, witches, and a few creatures that defied classification.

Shops with whimsical names and even more whimsical wares lined the cobbled street, each vying for attention like overeager puppies.

On my right, a shop called 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' displayed a mannequin that waved cheerily at passersby.

Its robes changed colors every few seconds, making me wonder if it had fashion indecision or just loved rainbows.

To the left, the windows of 'Flourish and Blotts' were crammed with books that seemed to have more life than some of the shoppers.

One book, titled 'The Self-Editing Spellbook,' was literally editing its own pages, while another, 'Cauldron Cooking for the Clueless,' wafted tantalizing smells every time someone walked past.

Iris nudged me forward as I nearly bumped into a small group gathered around a display of what appeared to be self-stirring cauldrons.

"Keep moving, Arthur. You'll have plenty of time to gawk later. We've got a list to check off."

We passed a store that sold nothing but quills.

Feathers of every color and size filled the window display, some writing on their own, jotting down what looked like juicy gossip.

"Everlasting Ink," one sign promised, "For When You Really Don't Want To Be Forgotten."

Then there was the 'Magical Menagerie,' a pet shop with creatures that defied my non-magical upbringing.

A cat with spectacles perched on its nose perused a tiny newspaper, and a tank full of what I could only describe as water-dwelling furballs sang in a chorus, their voices harmonizing in a surprisingly catchy tune.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a small, hunched figure. "First time at Diagon Alley, eh? Can always tell," the old wizard cackled, his eyes twinkling under a hat that was more patches than fabric.

"You'll find wonders and oddities here that you won't see anywhere else in the world."

"Thanks, I'm quickly realizing that," I replied, my eyes still darting around, trying to take in as much as possible.

"Remember, young man, the best magic is often hidden in plain sight," he said cryptically before shuffling off into the crowd.

Aunt Iris led me onwards, past a shop that sold nothing but magical pranks and jokes.

A group of kids my age laughed as they tested out trick wands, one of which turned into a rubber chicken. "Zonkos" read the sign above the shop, its letters doing a jolly dance.

Finally, we reached our first stop. Gringotts Wizarding Bank loomed at the end of the street, its grandeur unmistakable. The building was a magnificent mix of marble and magic, guarded by goblins that eyed every visitor with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"Right, let's pop into Gringotts first. After all, you can't shop without some galleons in your pocket," Iris said, guiding me towards where the bank was located.

As we approached Gringotts, the wizarding bank, it loomed over Diagon Alley. --The building itself was a masterpiece, towering spires, imposing stone gargoyles, and doors that looked like they could withstand a troll's tantrum.

Aunt Iris, her mask now a discreet accessory, nudged me with a wink. "Behold Gringotts, where the goblins are more intimidating than the vaults they guard. And that's saying something."

As the goblin at the door eyed us, I braced myself. If the bank was anything like the rest of Diagon Alley, I was in for quite the experience.

"Remember, Arthur, manners are key here. Goblins have long memories and even longer grudges," Iris whispered, her voice tinged with respect and a hint of unease.

We stepped through the grand entrance, and the interior of Gringotts was just as impressive as its facade. The hall was vast and opulent, with marble floors that gleamed like polished ice and crystal chandeliers that sparkled like frozen stars.

Goblins scurried about, their fingers quick and precise, counting coins, stamping papers, and occasionally giving clients what could only be described as a 'don't mess with me' glare.

The bankers of the wizarding world, were a far cry from your friendly neighborhood teller.

They were as sharp as the quills in their hands and had eyes that seemed to calculate your worth as you walked by.

As we navigated through the throngs of witches and wizards, I couldn't help but feel completely out of place but weirdly excited.

We approached a goblin who had the distinct look of someone who wouldn't tolerate any nonsense.

He was perched on a high stool, like a king on his throne, except his kingdom was made of numbers and gold.

"Iris Black, here to access the Prince vault," Iris announced, her voice carrying a blend of respect and familiarity.

The goblin, Master Griphook, eyed us with a gaze that could probably turn lesser men to stone.

"Follow me," he said, his voice as dry as the pages of an ancient ledger.

We were ushered into a cart that looked more suited for a thrill ride at an amusement park than a bank.

Griphook maneuvered it with the skill of a racer, plunging us into the belly of Gringotts.

We plunged into the depths of Gringotts. The ride was a wild dash through dark tunnels, past glittering vaults, and around steep bends. It was exhilarating and terrifying, much like everything else in this wizarding world.

"Iris leaned closer, her voice battling the clamor of the cart. "You see, Arthur, Gringotts is more than a bank. It's the pulsing heart of our entire economy, a vault for everything from the precious to the perilous."

As the cart zipped and zigzagged through the labyrinth of tunnels, she continued, her words barely keeping pace with our breakneck speed. "And believe me, these vaults aren't just stuffed with gold. They're home to treasures and terrors alike – dragon eggs, enchanted artifacts, maybe a cursed gem or two. The magic sealed within these walls could outshine a few wizarding schools."

 The cart ground to a halt with a screech that could've woken the dead, or at least a few goblins.

I staggered out, feeling both relieved to have survived and slightly let down – who knew wizard banking included a free rollercoaster ride? Before us stood a vault door that looked like it was ripped straight from the pages of a medieval fantasy – all iron and ominous engravings, the kind of door you'd expect a dragon to be hoarding its treasure behind.

Griphook approached it, armed with an array of keys and a series of hand movements so complex, I wondered if breaking into Gringotts was a lesser challenge than just opening a vault.

As the door creaked open, revealing the treasures inside, my jaw dropped. Calling it a vault was an understatement – it was more like a mini palace of riches. It made Aladdin's cave look like a garage sale. Gold coins shone like miniature suns, jewels sparkled in every color imaginable, and amidst it all sat a behemoth of a book. It wasn't just big; it was like the encyclopedia of our family on a growth spurt.

The leather cover was as worn as an old pirate's map, and the pages seemed to whisper tales of yesteryears.

Aunt Iris, spotting my jaw-dropping impression of a goldfish, shot me a grin that screamed 'you ain't seen nothing yet.' "Impressive, huh? This bad boy is our family's claim to fame. It's where every Prince has left their mark. Time for you to join the ranks, kiddo."

She ran her fingers over the ancient leather with a touch so gentle it was as if she was greeting an old friend. "This isn't just about tradition, Arthur. It's like a rite of passage, and now It's your turn to add to its story."

I edged closer, my heart doing a nervous tango. The pages were a who's who of my ancestors, each name a story, each a hero or a maverick in their own right. I crept even closer, my fingers tingling as I reached for the quill. 

My hand hovered for a split second before I added my own name – Arthur Belmont-Prince – snugly beneath my father's name Severus Tobias Prince.. It felt like I was planting my flag on uncharted territory.

"Look at you, Arthur Belmont-Prince!" Iris beamed, as if I had just performed a perfect triple-axel in figure skating. "You've just officially joined the ranks. Welcome to the team, superstar."

 **Author's Note:**

Hey there, fellow explorers of the magical unknown!

Thanks for diving into another chapter of Arthur's ever-wild adventure. Writing this chapter was like hopping on a rollercoaster—one with unexpected twists, turns, and a few magical surprises thrown in for good measure. From teleportation woes to stepping into the hidden world of Diagon Alley, Arthur's journey is only just beginning, and I hope you're enjoying the ride as much as I am!

If you've made it this far, I'd love to hear what you think. Is Arthur's new world pulling you in? Are you curious about where this journey will take him next? Your feedback is like finding a hidden treasure chest—it helps me keep the story sharp, fun, and full of the unexpected.

Drop a comment below and let me know your thoughts—whether you're loving the magical mayhem, have a theory about what's coming next, or just want to say hi. Your insights are what keep the magic alive!

Thanks again for being a part of Arthur's adventure. There's so much more ahead—mysteries to uncover, secrets to reveal, and plenty of magic to explore. I can't wait to share the next chapter with you.

Until then, keep your wands ready and your sense of wonder wide open!