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

The sun was just doing its morning stretch in a way that was too cheerful for any self-respecting morning- even for an aspiring wizard whose most successful spell so far had been turning a cup of tea lukewarm. The Emerald Mansion, otherwise known as Aunt Iris's little 'country home', was what happened when architects took too much liberty with the term 'magical'. It loomed in a way that buildings with less ambition might find rather show-offy, draped in ivy that had seen more history than most textbooks. The windows didn't just glow; they smirked with a light that suggested they knew things they'd rather not tell. The gardens were a botanical brawl of colors, hosting flowers that didn't so much bloom as perform solos, and hedges that rearranged themselves with a sense of drama, presumably to keep the garden gnomes on their toes. It was all rather impressive, in a 'we're trying too hard, aren't we?' sort of way."

Iris, with her usual flair for the dramatic, had decided it was the perfect time for my crash course in wizarding formality and self-defense. "Connections and knowledge, Arthur," she said, her eyes twinkling, "are the real magic in our world."

So there I was, about to dive headfirst into my first magic lesson, and where do I end up? Not some creepy, cobweb-filled dungeon that'd make a great set for a horror movie – Nope. We were camped out in the grand library, which was like a bookworm's dream on steroids. Picture this: shelves that stretch so high they're practically flirting with the ceiling and books that might just gossip more than a busload of teenagers armed with the latest school rumors on a field trip.

"Formality isn't just about manners," Iris lectured, "It's about understanding the intricate web of relationships in our world. Every ally is a resource, every connection a potential lifeline."

As she spoke, her wand traced intricate patterns in the air, conjuring images of famous wizards, legendary creatures, and powerful artifacts. "You see, Arthur, in our world, who you know can be just as important as what you know."

The afternoon was dedicated to spellcasting. In a clearing behind the mansion, Iris had set up an array of targets. "First rule of magic: intention is key. Focus on what you want to achieve," she instructed, "Think of spellcasting as a dance," she advised. "You lead, the magic follows."

I nodded, gripping my wand – the one that felt like an extension of my own soul. "Got it, intention." It sounded simple enough, right?

We started with the basics – Levitation Charm, Softening Charm, the works. "Remember, Arthur, it's Wingardium Levi-O-sa, not Levio-SA," Iris corrected, in a tone that was half-teacher, half-amused spectator.

literally. Iris's teaching style was a mix of encouraging words and 'please-don't-blow-up-the-mansion' warnings.

"Wingardium Leviosa." I focused, aiming at a feather Iris had placed on a pedestal.

To my delight, the feather quivered and then slowly rose into the air. "You're a natural," Iris smiled.

Then came the Softening Charm – "Spongify." In my overenthusiasm, I aimed a bit recklessly and... there was a flutter of dark wings and a sharp caw of surprise. A raven, which had been minding its own business, got an unexpected lesson in the softness of grass. The bird, more ruffled than hurt, due to the nature of the charm, gave me a look that I swear was the avian version of "Really, dude?"

Rushing over, I found it dazed but unharmed. "Oh no, I'm so sorry," I stammered.

To my surprise, the raven didn't take off into the sky saying.

"Connections can come from the most unexpected places," Iris said with a grin. "And trust me, in our world, a ally is worth more than a dozen spellbooks." Iris said, watching the scene. "Help him up."

I extended my arm, and to my amazement, the raven hopped onto it. Its eyes, a deep, knowing black, seemed to pierce right through me "Sorry, buddy," I muttered, feeling a pang of guilt. The bird nuzzled against my cheek, as if to say, 'It's cool, but let's avoid any more aerial acrobatics, okay?' 

"He's chosen to forgive you. And perhaps to keep an eye on you," Iris chuckled. 

The raven seemed to settle comfortably, its intelligent eyes watching me curiously, then cawed softly, almost as if in agreement, accepting its new role as my companion.

As the sun began to set, casting golden hues over the mansion, I looked at the raven perched on my shoulder. "Guess it's you and me now, huh?"

The raven cawed again, a sound that I was beginning to think might be laughter.

The rest of the evening was spent exploring the intricacies of the Emerald Mansion and discussing the subtler aspects of the wizarding world – the alliances, the histories, and the powerful families.

That night, as I settled into my room in the mansion, the raven perched quietly on the window sill, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder.

The weeks leading up to Hogwarts were like living inside a magical pinball machine, courtesy of Aunt Iris's 'unique' approach, turning the Emerald Mansion into a wizarding boot camp, with me as the sole, bewildered recruit and Soren, my raven sidekick,– a bird who brought more sass to the table than a comedian at a roast – he was the only one who seemed to be enjoying the chaos.

Each day kicked off with 'History of Magic', Iris style, her lessons made Mr. Radu History class seem like a snooze fest. She spun tales of wizarding wars and magical feats with a flair that made even the ivy on the walls seem to listen. Soren, perched on my shoulder, would caw at the juicy parts, like he was adding his own footnotes. 

Spellcasting with Iris was like a wizarding version of dodgeball - but with spells instead of balls, and me as the only target. "The key to magic is experimentation!" Iris would proclaim, tossing spells at me like a chef throws pasta at a wall to see what sticks. I had a hunch she was inventing half of them on the fly. "Let's jazz things up - Fizzbanger's Flighty Feet!" she'd declare with a mischievous glint, before I could brace myself, my feet broke into a frenzied jig, tap-dancing as if possessed by the ghost of Fred Astaire who was trying out for a Broadway show. Soren, perched on a nearby shelf, offered his two caws worth, - if ravens could laugh, he'd be rolling on the floor.

Potion-making felt like being on a cooking show set in a war zone. Iris watched, arms crossed, as I mixed ingredients with the finesse of a troll in a china shop. "Stir counter-clockwise, Arthur – no, your other counter-clockwise!" she'd instruct, while I did my best not to turn the potion into a magical molotov cocktail.

"Gently, Arthur! It's a potion, not a stew!" she'd shout over the cauldron's gurgles and pops, her words bounced around the lab, a place so full of smoke and strange smells it could double as a mix sauna, meanwhile, Soren, my feathered overseer, was on constant vigil. He'd swoop in heroically – or maybe just nosily – to snatch away vials just as they started doing their impression of mini volcanoes. With his keen raven eyes and a knack for dramatic timing, Soren wasn't just a bird; he was like a one-bird bomb squad, complete with disdainful squawks that said, 'I told you so.'

 My afternoons at the Emerald Mansion were turned into a survival course 'practical magic', or as I liked to call it, 'How to Not Get Eaten by a Garden'. courtesy of Iris's garden that was less 'English countryside' and more 'enchanted jungle on steroids'. Picture a garden where every plant seemed to have studied up on pranks and mischief, all without any supervision or rules.

There were Screaming Shrubs, not as loud as Mandrakes but twice as moody, and Bouncing Bulbs that acted like mischievous dodgeballs, Devil's Snare cousins that were more ticklish than treacherous, and Puffapods that exploded in a shower of confetti - Iris's idea of garden decor.Navigating the garden was like being in a magical obstacle course designed by a wizard who'd had one too many Butterbeers.

"Watch out for the Mimbulus Mimbletonia!" Iris would call out, just as a plant shot out what looked suspiciously like snot. Trust me, it's less fun than it sounds.

Soren, perched above, was my winged lookout. His caws ranged from helpful warnings to outright laughter whenever a particularly cheeky shrub decided to play 'trip the wizard'. It was hard to be mad though; his caws were like hearing a mischievous professor chuckling at his own clever joke.

Each time I narrowly dodged a Snapping Snapdragon (cousin to the Venomous Tentacula but with worse temper), Soren's caws sounded suspiciously like applause.

"Stay alert, Arthur!" Iris would shout from a safe distance, her tone a mix of encouragement and 'I'm-glad-that's-not-me'. I couldn't help but think Hogwarts would be a breeze compared to this botanical pandemonium.

 As the days ticked down, Iris decided to up the ante. "Time for a real challenge," she said, leading me blindfolded into a dense, enchanted forest behind the mansion. "You need to think on your feet,find your way back," she said, sounding way too cheerful. Soren's guiding caws from above were the only thing keeping me from becoming forest fodder.

As my final night at the Emerald Mansion rolled in, Iris tossed me a suitcase that looked like it had jumped straight out of a wizard's closet. "Courtesy of Regulus," a parting gift from her husband, my Uncle Regulus Black and apparently the wizarding world's version of Indiana Jones,

"He's sorry he couldn't be here to see you off, Arthur," she explained, her eyes softening with a hint of affection. "His world is... complicated, but he wanted you to have this for your journey." The suitcase looked unassuming, small yet seemingly capable of holding much more than its size suggested, was Uncle Regulu's way of making his presence felt.

"He also extends an invitation for us to spend next summer with him,"Iris added, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. "There's much he wishes to share with you."

As she handed me the suitcase, she dropped one last piece of Iris-wisdom. "Magic's great, but it's the brains and bonds you forge that truly make a wizard, Arthur."

I took the suitcase, feeling its weight and the potential it symbolized and looked at Iris, whose presence lingered silently, patient for my answer... "I understand," I said, more to myself than to her. 

"Unfortunately, I've got to dash, Arthur. I've been summoned to school earlier than usual," Iris said, her tone mixing a hint of regret with the urgency of the situation. she pulled me into a tight embrace. "Remember," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "you're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. Hogwarts is just the beginning."

I stepped back, nodding, my throat tight. "I won't forget," I promised. "And I'll make you proud, Iris."

That night, as the mansion settled into a comfortable silence, I couldn't sleep. I paced his room, the raven, Soren, watching me with an inscrutable gaze. Every so often, I would stop and look out the window at the sprawling gardens bathed in moonlight, the plants and flowers a silent audience to my thoughts.

"Iris is right," I whispered, more to the night than to Soren. "Hogwarts will teach me magic, but it's up to me to learn the rest. The connections, the friendships, the kind of wizard I want to be."

Soren cawed softly, hopping onto my shoulder, a gesture of companionship that spoke volumes. I reached up, gently stroking the raven's feathers. "And I suppose having a good partner doesn't hurt," I added with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

Hello, fellow adventurers in the magical realms!

This chapter was a real treat to write—Arthur's training at the Emerald Mansion gave us a deeper dive into his world, filled with magical mayhem, quirky lessons, and the growing bond with his new companion, Soren. I wanted to capture the whirlwind of emotions that come with stepping into a new life, where every day brings unexpected challenges and, sometimes, a sassy raven to keep you on your toes.

Arthur's journey is just beginning, and I'm excited to explore how these early experiences shape him as a wizard and as a person. Whether it's dodging enchanted plants or mastering spells under Aunt Iris's watchful eye, Arthur's world is as unpredictable as it is thrilling, and I hope you're enjoying the ride as much as I am!

As always, your thoughts mean the world to me. What did you think of Arthur's crash course in wizarding life? How do you feel about his bond with Soren and the unique lessons from Aunt Iris? Drop a comment below—your feedback is like a spell of encouragement, helping to guide the next chapters.

Thanks for being part of this magical journey. There's so much more to come, and I can't wait to share it with you!

Until next time, keep the magic alive and your curiosity as sharp as a wand's tip!