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

Hogwarts? It was no ordinary school. Forget dull lessons or safety lectures—though there was a hint of that, mostly ignored—and absolutely no flying brooms in PE back home. Which was exactly why I was buzzing with excitement (and sheer terror) about our first lesson in airborne broomstick acrobatics.

The sky was just scribbling out the dawn when I, alongside Elias—who was practically vibrating with nervous energy—headed to the Quidditch pitch. Elias jabbered on about Quidditch techniques, thanks to his late-night date with "Quidditch Through the Ages." Meanwhile, my raven Soren was unimpressed, eyeballing something distant, likely questioning the mental health of anyone up at this ungodly hour.

"Arthur, move it! If Madam Hooch docks points because you're daydreaming, I'll personally blame you for that itch potion fiasco you pulled on the Weasley twins," Elias threatened, his voice tinged with both jest and a dash of desperation.

With a resigned sigh. "For the last time, that was educational improvisation. Fred and George are still trying to figure out if their eyebrows will ever grow back."

Elias snorted, his freckles dancing as he tried not to laugh. "Educational, huh? I think there's a special place in wizard hell reserved for pranksters who use their powers for evil—and itching powder."

I laughed, picking up my pace. The damp grass of the Quidditch pitch squelched under our boots, a reminder that Hogwarts, with all its spires and enchantment, was still in Scotland—land of eternal dampness. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure that place is just McGonagall's classroom on a Monday morning."

Elias chuckled, the sound carrying lightly in the cool morning air. "True, but remember, this is Hogwarts. We're probably on some ancient scoreboard in a secret room where the teachers tally our mishaps against our triumphs."

"Great, as if I needed another reason to look over my shoulder," I said, adjusting the strap of my belt. "Next you'll tell me the ghosts are in on it too."

"Well, wouldn't put it past them. Peeves has been eyeing you like you're the next big thing since dungbombs."

I groaned, shooting a glance over my shoulder as if expecting Peeves to pop out of nowhere with a fresh batch of cookies. "Great. Just what I need—my own personal poltergeist fan club. Maybe I should start signing autographs. 'To Peeves, with all my unwanted attention, Arthur Belmont-Prince.'"

Elias snickered. "Just make sure he doesn't ask for a demonstration of your potion skills. I hear the last kid who crossed Peeves ended up with pink hair for a month."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Elias. Really calming my nerves here," I muttered, trying to ignore the tiny knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. Flying sounded fun in theory—like, who wouldn't want to soar through the air like a superhero? But in practice, with a broomstick that might have a mind of its own? Suddenly, I wasn't so sure.

I couldn't let Elias see how much my hands were shaking. This was the guy who'd stuck with me through all my harebrained schemes, and I wasn't about to show weakness now. So, I forced a grin that probably looked more like a grimace and said, 'It's just flying. How hard can it be?' Inside, I was already picturing my face in the Hogwarts Yearbook under 'Most Likely to Become a Permanent Fixture on the Quidditch Pitch.' But hey, I couldn't back down now. Not with Elias counting on me.

As we hit the Quidditch pitch, my stomach did a flip-flop. Brooms all lined up like they were ready for a race... or maybe a crash landing.

Hermione was already there, and she was in full lecture mode, doling out flying tips she'd probably read just last night. She was waving her hands with the authority of someone who had flown more than just in books—except, of course, she hadn't.

"—and remember Neville, it's all about your approach. If you angle your broom too sharply on ascent, you'll just—"

"Do a spectacular backflip and turn into a magical pancake?" I interrupted, earning an exasperated look from Hermione and a stifled giggle from Elias.

Hermione frowned, her brow knitting in the middle like it often did when her patience was tested. "Arthur, this isn't a joke. Flying is dangerous if not taken seriously."

"Of course, Hermione," I said, adopting a mock-serious tone. "I always take falling from great heights very seriously."

Elias nudged me, whispering loud enough for only me to hear, "If you're trying to become her least favorite student, you're doing brilliantly."

As Madam Hooch began striding towards us, her eyes scanning the motley crew that made up our first-year class, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. She had a hawk-like gaze that seemed to pierce right through you, probably a side effect of teaching reckless first-years how to defy gravity without killing themselves.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, her voice cutting through the chatter like a scythe. "Gather round! And let me remind you, this isn't a holiday parade. Flying is as much about balance within as it is about controlling what's beneath you," she began, her eyes briefly meeting mine. I wondered if she somehow knew about the itching powder incident or my late night walks around the castle. Elias must have noticed my sudden pale complexion because he gave me a reassuring pat on the back.

The other students shuffled into position, some eyeing their brooms with the trepidation of a cat faced with a bathtub. I grasped my broom, whispering a silent plea to any deity interested in the plight of a ten-year-old wizard-in-training.

"And remember," Madam Hooch continued, her eyes scanning the line of Hogwarts' newest fliers, "the sky is no place for foolishness. Prince, perhaps you can demonstrate the proper way to mount a broom without causing an international incident?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. As I approached the head of the line, I could feel every eye on me— "No pressure, Arthur. Just channel your inner Mercury and hope he's not in retrograde today," I muttered to myself.

I took a breath deep enough to power a zeppelin and threw my leg over the broom. 'Up!' I ordered. To my surprise, it actually listened. Suddenly, I was airborne, feeling like I'd just tamed a wild mustang—only with more splinters

Madam Hooch, who had been watching like an eagle ready to swoop on a misstep, nodded approvingly. "Well done, Prince, now the rest of you," she announced to the group, her voice strict enough to straighten a centaur's posture. "Mount your brooms on my count, and not a moment before. When I say 'up,' you will kick off the ground smoothly. No jerking movements—unless you fancy a quick meet-and-greet with the ground. Understood?" Her gaze swept over us like the glare of a basilisk, freezing everyone's nerves into place. I hovered there, trying to look casual while my inner self was doing a victory dance. Today, at least, the sky was mine.

We all nodded, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "On my count... three, two—"

"Wait, does anyone else hear that?" Elias suddenly said, his eyes darting around.

Too late. The world seemed to spin as my broom jerked upward unexpectedly—definitely not the smooth takeoff Madam Hooch had instructed. Above me, I could hear Peeves' cackling echo around the pitch.

"Looks like Belmont's off to a flying start!" Peeves sang out, swooping by with a mischievous grin.

My broom had a mind of its own—probably Peeves' twisted cousin—and it wasn't keen on taking orders. I clung to it like a rodeo cowboy on a bucking bull, wondering why I hadn't paid more attention to Hermione's 'Flying 101' speech. But hey, where's the fun in following the rules? Especially when you're a Belmont, practically born to crash and burn in style.

As I flailed for balance, Elias called out from a safer, much more stable altitude, "Arthur! Remember what Madam Hooch said about commanding your broom with authority! Imagine it's a beast you need to tame, not just a stick between your legs!"

"Easy for you to say!" I yelled back, finally managing a semblance of control. It felt like wrestling a particularly stubborn Hippogriff. But slowly, the broom and I found a rhythm, a sort of grudging respect for each other's capabilities.

Peeves, however, wasn't done with me. With a cackle that would chill even a Dementor's heart, he zoomed towards me again, this time lobbing what looked like a handful of Filibuster's Fireworks. "Let's add some spark to your flight, Belmont!"

"No, Peeves, don't you dare—" But it was too late. The fireworks exploded around me in a dazzling array of light and sound, momentarily stunning me and undoubtedly giving Madam Hooch a heart attack.

Through the sparks and smoke, I could hear Madam Hooch's livid shouts. "Peeves! That's against the contra—"

"Oh, let's not worry about paperworks; I'm having too much fun!" Peeves interrupted gleefully, already plotting his next move.

The fireworks were like a magical slap to the face, waking up that stubborn streak my mom always warned me about. 'Belmonts don't quit,' she'd say, usually after I'd failed spectacularly at something and was ready to throw in the towel. Well, I wasn't about to quit now—not with the whole class watching. I gripped the broom tighter, willing it to listen to me. Somehow, we reached an understanding, and I started to fly with something that almost felt like confidence. Almost."

I blasted through the last of the smoke, finally in charge of my ride. A grin broke out on my face—probably the first genuine smile I'd managed since stepping onto this death trap. Below, Elias and Hermione stared up at me, jaws practically on the ground. Whether they were impressed or terrified, I didn't care. I was flying. For real this time.

As I soared, actually managing not to plummet like a stone, Peeves saw his opportunity to turn a great day into a spectacular disaster. "Oh, it's not over yet, Belmont!" he cackled, whizzing past with a trail of fireworks that would put the Fourth of July to shame.

I dodged, dipped, and dived, pulling moves that would've made a professional Quidditch player nod in approval—or check me into St. Mungo's for a full evaluation. The broom felt like it was part of me, and for a moment, I forgot about the ground. I forgot about Peeves. I was just Arthur, the boy who could actually fly.

Below, Madam Hooch was shouting something, probably instructions or incantations to save my reckless soul, but it was lost in the wind. All I heard was my heart, pounding a rhythm that matched the wild beat of the Hogwarts spirits.

Then, out of nowhere, a sudden idea struck me. If Peeves wanted a show, I'd give him one he'd never forget. I pulled the broom upward, climbing higher and higher until the castle was a toy model beneath me. With all the courage I could muster, I flipped the broom, executing a perfect loop—the legendary Belmont Barrel Roll, as it would henceforth be known.

The move was wild enough to send Peeves into an applause, his howls of laughter echoing across the grounds as fireworks exploded around us in a symphony of chaos and color. "Not bad, kid! Not bad at all!" Peeves yelled, his voice drowned out by the cheers from below.

As I steadied the broom and prepared for landing, the real challenge was clear: how do I land without becoming a pancake? Fortunately, Hermione's earlier tips popped into my head at just the right moment. Angle, speed, balance—all the boring stuff she rambled about was suddenly the most important trivia in my brain.

I adjusted my approach, whispered a quick apology to any deity still paying attention, and touched down with only minor tremors. The ground never felt so good.

Madam Hooch approached, her expression a mix of amazement and exasperation. "Mr. Belmont, that was... certainly something. Reckless doesn't begin to cover it, but I'll admit it was impressive."

Elias was the first by my side, clapping me on the back so hard I almost launched into flight again. "You're insane, mate, but that was brilliant!"

Even Hermione had to crack a smile, though it looked like it physically pained her. "I suppose there's a method to your madness, Arthur. Just promise me you'll keep that method on the ground from now on."

As the last of the adrenaline rush washed away, a weird cocktail of emotions started bubbling up inside me—part pride, part relief, and a whole lot of "What in Merlin's name just happened?" Hogwarts was definitely not your run-of-the-mill boarding school, and just maybe, I wasn't your run-of-the-mill wizard. Looking ahead, I had a sneaky suspicion that flying brooms was just the warm-up act, and I was about to be the star of some seriously bizarre main events.With a sidekick like Elias, who could find just about any excuse to laugh in the face of danger, and Hermione, who could probably find a rule or three to break without even trying, who needs enemies? Yeah, bring it on, Hogwarts. I'm ready for the next wild ride—or at least, I'll pretend to be until I actually have to face it.

But as we left the pitch, a shadow loomed above, and a familiar voice crooned, "Oh, I'll be watching you, Mr. Belmont. This is going to be fun." Peeves, it seemed, was just getting started.

And me? I couldn't wait to see what was next.

**Author's Note:**

Hey everyone!

Wow, what an exhilarating chapter this turned out to be! Writing Arthur's first flying lesson at Hogwarts was an absolute blast—pun definitely intended. From the terror of his first flight to the chaos brought on by Peeves, this chapter was all about pushing boundaries, both literally and metaphorically.

Arthur's journey through Hogwarts continues to be a rollercoaster, and this chapter perfectly captures that feeling of being on the brink of something both exciting and terrifying. I wanted to dive into the mix of emotions that come with trying something completely new, especially when that something involves flying several feet off the ground with only a broomstick and your wits to keep you from faceplanting into the pitch.

The dynamic between Arthur and his friends really shines in this chapter. Elias, with his mix of humor and loyalty, is the perfect foil to Arthur's more cautious side. Their banter adds a lightness to the story, even in the midst of potential disaster. And then there's Hermione—always the voice of reason, but even she can't resist a smile at Arthur's antics. These relationships are becoming more and more central to Arthur's story, and I love exploring how each character brings out something different in him.

Peeves, of course, had to make an appearance. His brand of chaos is the perfect challenge for Arthur—testing not just his magical skills but also his ability to think on his feet (or in the air, as it were). Peeves is one of those characters who adds a dash of unpredictability to every scene he's in, and I'm having so much fun finding new ways to incorporate his particular brand of mischief into the story.

And how about that mid-air stunt? The "Belmont Barrel Roll" might just be Arthur's first real claim to fame at Hogwarts—though probably not the kind of fame Hermione would approve of! I wanted to show that Arthur, despite his fears and insecurities, has a natural talent for thinking outside the box and embracing the madness when it counts. It's this mix of bravery and recklessness that makes him such an interesting character to write, and I can't wait to see how this side of him develops as the story progresses.

As always, Hogwarts itself plays a huge role in shaping these experiences. The Quidditch pitch, the enchanted skies, even the damp Scottish weather—all of it adds to the atmosphere of adventure and discovery. It's not just a school; it's a place where anything can happen, and I hope that sense of wonder and unpredictability comes through in every chapter.

So, what's next for Arthur? With Peeves promising more trouble and the ever-present mysteries of Hogwarts lurking around every corner, I think it's safe to say that our boy is in for one heck of a first year. Whether it's dueling lessons in disguise, secret challenges, or just surviving another day in the wizarding world, Arthur's journey is far from over. And with friends like Elias and Hermione by his side (and a few pranks up his sleeve), I have no doubt he'll rise to the occasion—most of the time, anyway.

I'm thrilled to hear what you all think of this chapter! Did Arthur's flying antics make your heart race? What do you think Peeves has in store for him next? And how about that promise of dueling lessons—any predictions on how Arthur will handle that? Let me know your thoughts, theories, and favorite moments in the comments. I can't wait to dive into the conversation with you!

Thank you all for your continued support and enthusiasm for this story. It's your excitement that makes writing these chapters so rewarding, and I'm so grateful to have you all along for the ride.

Until next time, keep soaring high and embracing the chaos—just like Arthur!