#Reginald Arthur

[pmamtraveller]

THE ART OF EXOTICISM BY REGINALD ARTHUR

Someone requested I look into REGINALD ARTHUR'S work and after some research I have something here, i had so much fun making this. REGINALD ARTHUR was a BRITISH painter who was active in the late 19th century. Not much is known about his early life or education, but records show that he was active as a painter between 1881 and 1896.

ARTHUR is best known for his dramatic historical paintings, particularly his depiction of the death of CLEOPATRA. His painting, titled "THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA: THE STROKE OF DEATH," depicts the moment when CLEOPATRA takes her own life by allowing a venomous snake to bite her. The painting is a powerful and emotional portrayal of the tragic event, with CLEOPATRA shown in a state of agony and despair.

Aside from his painting of CLEOPATRA, Arthur also painted other historical scenes, such as 'JOSEPH INTERPRETING PHARAOH'S DREAM, 1893' and 'PHAROAH'S DAUGHTER, 1896.' He was known for his attention to detail and his ability to capture the emotions and drama of his subjects.

In 'JOSEPH INTERPRETING PHARAOH'S DREAM' The painting depicts the biblical story of Joseph, who was sold into slavery by his brothers and eventually rose to become a powerful advisor to the Pharaoh of Egypt. In the painting, Joseph is shown interpreting Pharaoh's dream of seven fat cows being devoured by seven skinny cows, foretelling seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine.

ARTHUR'S style was heavily influenced by the PRE-RAPHAELITE MOVEMENT, with its focus on detailed and realistic depictions of historical and mythological scenes. He also incorporated elements of the Romantic style, with its emphasis on emotion and drama.

Despite his talent and success as a painter, little is known about ARTHUR'S personal life. It is believed that he may have lived and worked in LONDON, as some of his paintings depict scenes from the city.

Today, ARTHUR'S paintings are held in private collections and are highly sought after by art enthusiasts. His portrayal of CLEOPATRA'S death remains one of his most famous and enduring works, capturing the tragedy and drama of the event in a way that continues to captivate audiences.

[spiritsdancinginthenight]

The death of Cleopatra Oil on Canvas, 1892, Reginald Arthur  (1871–1934).

[thymelessink]

Geniuses and their puppy like boyfriends who follow them everywhere

[detrixsta]

Closing theme song from the (largely lost) 1965 - 1967 series "The World of Wooster" as performed in full by Ian Carmichael & Dennis Price along with the orchestra under the direction of Arthur Greenslade. Relased as a single in 1966, the song was written by Sandy Wilson. ("The Boyfriend", "Divorce Me Darling")

"I say-- rather catchy; eh, what---? Damn fine tune… one you can whistle or hum… Really speaks to me that song.... It's all the rage at the Drone's club at the moment…."

[wilsons-divorce-papers]

Malevolent AU: set in the early 1930s, Arthur is a well-to-do bachelor and John is his intelligent - and sometimes manipulative - valet. there are no horrors. just goofs

[from-a-spiders-web]

The crafty Demon with infernal reveries had tempted him

[annecoulmanross]

Did you enjoy THIS post about WW1 poetry and the grave of lost polar explorer John Irving? Then I have a fanfic for you: Dulce et Decorum, inspired by my manic experience reading Kaliane Bradley's Graham Gore novel, The Ministry of Time (2024).

Read on for two queer men from different historical time periods falling rapidly in love with each other and flirting via Latin poetry, as per my usual fic-writing style!

(No real knowledge of Ministry of Time needed, though an appreciation for Graham Gore may come in handy.)

For my @theterrorbingo Round VI free space!

[citizenscreen]

Jean Arthur and Joel McCrea on set of Edward Ludwig’s ADVENTURE IN MANHATTAN (1936). Also with Reginald Owen and the director.

[my-mistake-lets-do-this-again]

you can tell how much characters care about each other when they start insulting each other’s moustaches.

this is what i have learned from life

[marilen13]

P.G. Wodehouse is really a fan of Sherlock Holmes

[letterboxd-loggd]

Cat Ballou (1965) Elliot Silverstein

September 21st 2024

[thisbluespirit]

Montpelier Square, West Brompton. Dear Miss Hesslerigge, Heaven will reward you. The letter wrapped round a stone which you threw me last night from an upper window of Volumnia House was handed to me after I had compensated the person upon whose head it unfortunately alighted. The news that Dinah has one friend in Volumnia House enabled me to get a little rest between half-past five and six this morning. Not having closed my eyes for eleven nights, sleep was of distinct value. Now, dear Miss Hesslerigge, inform Dinah that our apartments are quite ready and that I shall present myself at Volumnia College, to fetch away the dear love of my heart, to-night at half-past nine. Please assure Dinah that I shall love her till death, and that the piano is now moving in. Dinah is my one thought. The former is on the three years' system. Kiss my angel for me. Our carpet is Axminster, and, I regret to say, second-hand. But, oh! our life will be a blessed, blessed dream—the worn part going well under the centre table. This evening at half-past nine. Gratefully yours, Reginald Percy Paulover. P.S.—I shall be closely muffled up, as the corner lamp-post under which I stand is visible from the window of Admiral Rank-ling's dining-room. You will know me by my faithful, trusty respirator.

[camyfilms]

MARY POPPINS 1964

You know, you can say it backwards, which is "docious-ali-expi-istic-fragil-cali-rupus" - but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?

[thymelessink]

Carriages and Cars

Sherlock Holmes | Raffles | Jeeves and Wooster | Poirot

[l-alan-l]

Moronsexual

Poirot 🤝 Jeeves

[royalxenawolf]

River Black and the Philosophers Stone Chapter 3: Into The Alley

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Original Characters, Crossover(BBC Merlin & Harry Potter), Fix-It, No Beta Reader, Sane Tom Riddle/Not Evil Tom Riddle.(if i forgot anything let me know) Victoria belongs to @brokken-emo-lost

Words: 8,766

Master List

A few days after the escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor from the zoo, Harry and Atlas awoke early in the morning. Even though they knew it was daylight, they did not want to get up yet. They were content with laying in their beds, wrapped up in the duvets, and ignoring all of the noises coming from below their flat in the main area of the Leaky Cauldron. But this morning, it was notably louder than usual.

The Leaky Cauldron is always loud and full of noise, a well-known fact that the residents had to make peace with long ago if they chose to live there. And yet, despite the fact that it was always loud and bustling, there was a noticeable difference from the usual loudness that Atlas and Harry had grown accustomed to. So, they were happy with electing to ignore it. That was until a sudden loud tapping noise sounded out.

Atlas flopped over onto his belly, burying his face in his pillow with a groan, while Harry pulled his duvet up over his head in an attempt to ignore the tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. Atlas popped himself up on his forearms, hair falling into his face as he turned his head and glared at his and Harry's bedroom door before swinging his legs over and jumping down from the top bunk.

Harry sat up in his bunk and watched as Atlas walked to the door. Harry threw the duvet off of himself and got up slowly, shuffling his feet over to the small wardrobe in his and Atlas's room. "I'm going to get dressed," Harry said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Atlas hummed in response while opening the bedroom door. Tap. Tap. Tap. The noise came again as Atlas walked down the hall towards the annoying tapping.

He heard the shower turning off and blinked a little to get the sleep from his eyes. "Mum is up already," Atlas thought to himself as he walked into the kitchen. There, rapping its talons on the window, was a gray owl. In its beak was the daily newspaper. Atlas rolled his eyes. As close as they lived to Diagon Alley, Atlas never truly understood why they always got their newspaper via owl post. But nonetheless, he walked over and opened the kitchen window.

The owl swooped in and landed on the table in the middle of the small kitchen. It dropped the newspaper and started to squawk. "Alright, alright," Atlas said to the owl as he walked over to a glass container that looked a lot like a biscuit jar. It sat on the worktop in the kitchen. The owl continued to screech and squawk as Atlas picked up the jar. "You will get your payment. Hold on," Atlas said as he glared at the owl in annoyance.

Atlas typically loved animals of all kinds and varieties, but for as long as he can remember, he swears this exact same owl has been delivering the daily newspaper, and it is always impatient. Atlas takes the lid off of the jar and looks in... empty. It's empty. Atlas sighs and sets the jar back down as the owl's squawks and screeches got louder. Atlas looks into the hall. "Hey, Mum!"

River caps her eyeliner and looks away from the mirror. Normally, she wouldn't bother putting on makeup or trying to keep up appearances, especially when just going into Diagon Alley. However, with all the noise going on, it was very obvious that a lot of people were using the Leaky Cauldron to get into the alley today, which meant there was a chance she might run into someone she used to know. And well, it's best to give them as little ammunition against her as possible.

River placed her eyeliner down in front of her mirror and poked her head out of her bedroom door. "Yeah?" Atlas heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of his mum's voice. "Where are the Knuts at for the newspaper? They're not in the jar," Atlas called down the hall.

River swore under her breath. She had forgotten to refill the biscuit jar with Knuts last night. She turned and looked down the hall. "I'll take care of it. Just go get dressed." Atlas looked over his shoulder at the owl screeching on their kitchen table. Honestly, he thought he would prefer being in his room than anywhere this particular owl was located.

Atlas turned and started speed-walking down the hall. "I will go do that right now," Atlas said, passing his mum's room and into his and Harry's room. He quickly opened and closed the door behind himself. Atlas looked up, and there was Harry, fully dressed, just casually lying on his bed flipping through an old photo book. Atlas looked at Harry like he had somehow personally offended him. "Have you been in here dressed the whole time while I was out there dealing with the owl from hell?" Atlas exclaimed at Harry while pointing towards the bedroom door.

Harry slowly looked up from the photo book and directly at Atlas. "Well, I just thought since you seemed to be handling it... that you didn't need my help," Harry stammered out as Atlas stalked closer towards the bunk beds. "You—" Atlas said as he pointed a finger at Harry, "—left me out there to face that horrible creature alone, how could you Harry, your own brother." Atlas finished his sentence by throwing himself onto the bed across Harry's legs.

As Harry grinned, he shoved Atlas off of his legs to the floor. "You would have done the same to me," Harry shot back as he sat up fully and crossed his legs. Atlas propped himself up on his elbows and grinned up at Harry. "Maybe, maybe, but you can't prove it." Atlas climbed up onto his feet and walked to the wardrobe. "Did you get the owl sorted?" Harry asked, grabbing his and Atlas's shoes from under the bed. Atlas looked over his shoulder while pulling a black t-shirt from the wardrobe. "Huh? Oh no, mum said she would." Harry nodded and put his shoes on.

River walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, coin pouch in hand, as the owl continued to get louder and louder. River looked at the owl once in the kitchen and, as she suspected, Sr. Reginald hissed at the owl for being loud, and the owl hissed back at him in return. "Okay, let's see," River said to herself as she counted out five bronze coins and walked over to the owl, who held out its leg where a small leather pouch was tied. River placed the coins in the pouch. "There you go, five knuts." The owl turned and flew back out of the opened kitchen window as River sighed.

After breakfast and River reminding Harry and Atlas to stay close to her and also reminding Harry to keep his hair brushed down over his forehead, they were all out the door and down the stairs. River led the way as Harry and Atlas chattered away excitedly behind her. After all, they had never actually been to Diagon Alley before, despite living so close to it. "How do you think we will get into Diagon Alley?" Harry asked Atlas excitedly. Atlas waved his hands in front of his face as he answered, "Probably some super secret magical passageway." Harry's eyes widened. "Do you really think so?" Atlas gave Harry a smile. "Well, I mean, it has to be that, right? The Leaky Cauldron is a door between muggle and magical." River chuckled to herself as she stopped in front of a brick wall at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, the boys stopping behind her and looking at the wall confused.

"Uhhh, mum?" Harry said while looking at the wall. "Yes, dear," River said as she turned to look at the two boys. Harry and Atlas looked at River as Harry pointed at the stone wall. "That's just the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron." Atlas looked at the wall with a skeptical expression. "Yeah, what Harry said." River grinned. "Just watch," she said as she turned back to face the wall. But right as River took her wand from her pocket, a voice sounded from behind them. "E-e-excuse m-me." River, Harry, and Atlas all turned around, and there standing not too far from them was a pale young man who made his way forward, very nervously. How strange, Atlas thought, as he took notice that one of this man's eyes was twitching.

"Yes?" River asked as she twirled her wand with her fingers, an old habit she had taken up when she first received her wand years ago. The young man looked even more nervous with River twirling her wand as he looked at her and the boys. "Are your b-boys g-going to h-h-h-hogwarts?" River looked at Harry and Atlas as they both grinned. "Yes, we are," Atlas said, looking so proud of himself and Harry. The man looked at the boys. "Well, i-i-its nice to m-meat you. I-i'm q-q-q-Quirinus q-q-Quirrell. I-i will b-b-be o-one of y-y-your t-teachers at h-h-h-hogwarts." Atlas tilted his head as he looked at Quirrell. "It's nice to meet you, Professor." Harry looked up at Quirrell, bright green eyes shining with curiosity. "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" "D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it.

Upon hearing Quirrell's muttered answer to Harry's questions, River's eyes snapped to him. She stared, thinking, "So this is him. This is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." River tilted her head to the side and looked Quirrell up and down. In River's opinion, he did not look like much. From the way he appeared, River thought he was barely suited to be the librarian for Hogwarts, let alone the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. River smiled with her teeth and stepped forward, "So you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? It's so lovely to meet one of my boys' future teachers. I really hope you don't lose any of your limbs while teaching." Quirrell looked at River and laughed nervously as he turned back to the boys, “Getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve got to pick up a new book on vampires, myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought. But he continued on, "Perhaps we will run into each other." Both boys shrugged. "Maybe," Atlas said as River put one boy on each side of her. "Right, well we best be going, you know, things to do and all that," River said, turning around with the boys to face the wall again. "Right, now watch this," River grinned as she held her wand in hand. "Okay boys, pay very close attention, alright?" Harry and Atlas nodded as River lifted her wand to the wall. "Three up... two across..." River said, making sure Atlas and Harry were paying attention. "Right now, stand back." The boys did as they were told. As River tapped the wall three times with the tip of her wand, the brick she had touched quivered and wriggled. In the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider. A second later, they were facing an archway large enough for even a giant, an archway onto a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight. “Welcome,” said River, opening her arms wide, “to Diagon Alley.” She grinned at Harry’s and Atlas’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry and Atlas looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall. "Alright, which one of you has the list?" River asked as she watched the boys staring at anything and everything they saw. Harry looked up at her. "Huh? Oh! I have mine right here." Harry pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it to River, who opened it and read it aloud as she began walking.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT

ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

River looked over the list again to make sure that she didn't miss anything. "Well, everything looks like the standard," she said. Atlas and Harry looked at River. "Mum, will we be able to get it all?" Harry asked as he and Atlas observed how the sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons of all sizes, copper, brass, pewter, silver, even self-stirring and collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. Oh, how Harry and Atlas wished they had about eight more eyes. The boys turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

"Of course, we will. There's not much that Diagon Alley doesn't have," River turned to look at the boys and smiled. They were taking in everything around them with such amazement it was impossible for River not to smile while watching them.

"Ey! Hold on there!" A loud booming voice called out further back up the alley. River, Harry, and Atlas all turned their heads. Walking towards them was an enormous man, he was at least twice as tall as a normal man and five times as wide. He had a long, shaggy mane of thick black hair and a wild, tangled beard that hid most of his face. As he walked through the crowd, they parted around him to make more room. River smiled, recognizing Hagrid, and waved to him as he lumbered his way over.

"There yer are, been lookin' everywhere for ya," River stepped back and looked up at Hagrid with a smile. "Hello, Hagrid." Hagrid lifted his hand in greeting. "River," before he turns to the boys and looks at Harry. "Harry, I'd recognize ya anywhere. Look just like yer dad, ya do," he then turns to Atlas. "And this must be Atlas, should've known, got yer dad's hair." Harry and Atlas stared at Hagrid for a bit before finally Harry spoke up. "Uhh, thank you... we think," Atlas looked Hagrid up and down. "Sorry, but you seem to know us, but we don't know you." Hagrid chuckled. "Right, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, but just call me Hagrid, everyone does." The two boys nod. "Right, well it's uh, nice to meet you, Hagrid."

River placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Hagrid. "What brings you here, Hagrid?" Hagrid shrugs and looks at River. "Oh, ya know, doing important business for Dumbledore." Atlas and Harry exchanged wide-eyed looks. Dumbledore? They thought as they looked at each other. They had heard that name before from their mum. She always said to never trust an old man named Dumbledore, but mum was being nice to Hagrid, and Hagrid said that he was doing something for Dumbledore, so maybe there was something that they were missing. River looked at her boys out of the corner of her eye. She could almost hear the wheels in their heads turning.

"Dumbledore still has you running errands for him, does he?" River said, kicking at the cobble path with an old, well-worn boot. "Oh yeah, ol' Dumbledore knows he can trust me, and since I'm going to be here anyway, he asked me to help out Harry." River tilted her head. She may not trust Dumbledore... but she did trust Hagrid. He wasn't a bad person, didn't have it in him to be.

"So, I don't suppose you'd mind me borrowing Harry for a bit?" Hagrid asked, looking at River with hopeful eyes. "Where are you going?" Hagrid puffed out his chest. "Gringotts, of course." Harry and Atlas both looked excited. They wanted to see Gringotts. River sighed. "Well, alright." Harry grinned as Atlas turned to River. "Can I go too, mum?" Harry also turned and looked up at both River and Hagrid. "Can he?" Hagrid looked at both of the boys and laughed. "I don't see why not, if it's okay with yer mum, of course." River ruffled both Harry and Atlas's hair. "Alright, you can both go." Atlas and Harry went to run around but then turned around. "Don't get anything without us!" River laughed and waved them along. "I won't," River said as Hagrid walked past her to join the boys.

River turned to walk somewhere else but quickly turned around. "Oh, Hagrid, what did you say you were helping Harry with again? I completely forgot." River looked at Hagrid with a smile as he turned and looked at her. "Oh, well Dumbledore wanted me to show him his vault," Hagrid said, and River nodded. "Right, well you better go join the boys." Hagrid looked at Harry and Atlas. "Oh right, guess I better," and Hagrid lumbered off with the boys.

Once they were out of sight, River reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. Among them was one tiny golden key. River looked at it, tiny and glistening when the sun hits it. As far as she knew, there were only two keys to the Potter's vault. She had one, and Victoria was supposed to have the other.

And if Hagrid had a key to the Potter Family Vault from Dumbledore then... River shook her head. No, it was best not to think like that. Victoria, wherever she is, she's strong and resourceful. She was fine... she had to be. River slid the key back into her pocket. Well, she might as well get what she needs while she waits for the boys. River walked down the street carrying Sir. Reginald in one arm when suddenly someone bumped into her.

"I am so-" River starts to say as a male voice cuts her off.

"Watch where you are going," River smirked as Sir. Reginald hissed at the man. She recognized that voice. River pulled her shoulders back, puffed out her chest, and looked up.

"Why, Lucius Malfoy, as I live and breathe. Fancy running into you here," before Lucius could say anything, River swiftly turned to the woman standing next to him and smiled. "Narcissa, darling, it is so good to see you again. How have you been doing, dear?"

Narcissa nodded at River. "Hello, River. I have been alright."

River looked at them, noticed that they had a boy with them. That's right, how could she have forgotten? They have a son around Harry and Atlas's age. River stepped back slightly and actually took in their appearances. Lucius had not changed much since Hogwarts. He was a bit older but he still had the same pointed face, and cold, pale grey eyes. His hair was longer now, it was still pale blonde but longer, tied back with a ribbon and what wasn't tied back was slicked back with so much gel that it was basically glued to his head. In his hand was a wooden cane with a silver snake head.

Narcissa stood next to him. She was still as beautiful as ever, still tall and slim, and very pale, with piercing blue eyes that could see into your very soul, and gorgeous long blonde hair that cascaded down her back, and she still had the same clear, cold voice as always.

Lucius and Narcissa's son was a different matter. He was tall and slender but not as tall as Atlas, probably around the same height as Harry, with blond hair, pale skin, a pointed face, and icy gray eyes. To most, you probably look like his father but to River, he looked like his mother except for the way his hair was done today. It was also slicked back, similar to how Lucius had his, and she couldn't tell if it was because the boy wanted to be like his father or if it's because that's what Lucius wanted the boy to look like.

River mentally shook her head. "Where are my manners? Who is this with you?"

Lucius looked down his nose at River and sneered as if she was lesser than him and in his mind, she was before answering. "This is our son, Draco. Draco, this is River Pendra–"

River cut Lucius off before he could finish. "Black, River Black."

Draco held out his hand and River shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Black."

River smiled. There might be hope for this boy yet. "You too, young Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's eyes widened as he looked at the woman in front of him who had just shook his hand. Not very many people, or any at all really, have referred to him as young Mr. Malfoy. Young Lord, maybe on a rare occasion, but never mister. This woman seemed odd to Draco. His father didn't like seeing her and his mother almost seemed happy at the sight. He'd have to ask about it later once they were home.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, grabbing River, Narcissa, and Draco's attention. "But did I hear you say Black?"

Lucius continued, still looking down his nose at River who smirked as she answered him. "Yes, you did. I married a Black too, remember? And I didn't have to offer the parents of mine money to do it."

River said, looking Lucius in the eyes as his sneer turned into a glare. "Watch who you are speaking to.”

River laughed. Oh, poor poor Lucius thought himself to be scary. "Or what? Look around, Lucius, we are in the middle of a crowded busy street. There are too many witnesses."

Lucius looked around and lowered his cane. "And what are you doing here?"

River tilted her head. "Getting school supplies for my sons. I'm sure you'll be most pleased to hear that they will be attending Hogwarts."

Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust. River could not tell if it was because of her boys attending Hogwarts or something else. "So it is true then, you and that murderous blood traitor did produce a half-blooded welp, two in fact if what you say is true."

River glared at Lucius. She did not care what he said about her but she would not stand for him speaking ill of her husband or her children. "Yes, it's true... although I am shocked, Malfoy."

Lucius arched an eyebrow at her. "What are you babbling about?" he said, annoyed, and River smirked and shrugged. "Well, it's just that you have your hair glued to your head so tightly I can't tell if you actually have any or if it's painted on. I mean, as much grease is on your head you could probably sell it and feed a third world country."

River's smirk widened as she watched Lucius Malfoy go from pale to an awful shade of angry red while both Narcissa and Draco's eyes widened in shock. Well, shock on Draco's part. After all, he had never heard anyone speak to his father in such a manner before.

Lucius angrily turned to his family. "Narcissa, Draco, come. We are leaving. We have things to do."

River waved at their backs while Sir. Reginald mowed at Narcissa's retreating back. "Ta ta~ hope to see you again."

River turned around to continue on her way. "Now, off to do some shopping.”

Meanwhile, Harry and Atlas were enjoying their walk to the bank with Hagrid. As they walked, they turned their heads, looking at everything. There was a plump woman outside an apothecary, shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..." Low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium, Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy.

Several boys of about Harry and Atlas's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," the boys heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand, fastest ever." This instantly got Atlas's attention as he swiftly turned his head towards the shop with the brooms. "Did they say the new Nimbus Two Thousand?"

Harry grabbed Atlas by the arm as he tried to run off. "Come on, Atlas." Atlas looked at Harry and back at the broom shop. "But Harry, it's the Nimbus Two Thousand." Harry kept pulling Atlas by the arm. "We can look with mum."

Hagrid shook his head. "You act like you've never been to Diagon Alley before." Both boys stopped and looked up at Hagrid. "We haven't," Atlas said as he got Harry to let go of his arm. Harry nodded, standing next to Atlas. "Mum always said it might not be safe for us to run around Diagon Alley, so we've never got to come till today."

Hagrid kept walking as the boys ran to catch up. "I suppose she's right. Best listen to your mum," Hagrid winked at the boys, and they kept on their way. As they did so, Harry and Atlas looked at the shops. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments that Harry and Atlas had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

Atlas looked up at Hagrid, wheels in his head turning with questions. "Hey Hagrid, are there any other Wizarding Banks besides Gringotts?" Hagrid looked down and shook his head. "No, just the one. It's run by goblins."

Harry looked up and grinned. "So it really is run by goblins?" Hagrid smiled. "Already knew that, did you?" Atlas nodded. "Mum always told us if we ever went to Gringotts to be polite and nice to the goblins and that they would appreciate it." Harry nodded and then added, "She also said that if we went to Gringotts to never touch what wasn't ours."

Hagrid's smile grew. "Sound advice that is. Of course, you’d be mad to try and rob it, I’ll tell you that. Never mess with goblins, boys. Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe, except maybe Hogwarts.”

Atlas tilted his head. "Do you come to Gringotts often, Hagrid?" Hagrid shook his head. "No, I got a visit to Gringotts. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me to do important stuff for him. Helping Harry – getting things from Gringotts, knows he can trust me, see.

“Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?” Harry asked.

“Spells, enchantments,” said Hagrid, pulling a watch from his coat as he spoke. “They say there’s dragons guarding the high-security vaults. And then you got to find your way. Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. You’d die of hunger trying to get out, even if you did manage to get your hands on something.”

The boys walked and thought about this while Hagrid led the way. “Hagrid,” said Harry, panting a bit as he and Atlas ran to keep up, “did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?”

“Well, so they say,” said Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.” Atlas’s eyes widened in shock as he looked up at Hagrid. “You’d like one?”

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid. Here we go, Gringotts.” said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was – “Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly to the boys' unasked question as they walked up the white stone steps towards him.

The goblin was much shorter than they were. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry and Atlas noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger,

but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours,

Thief,

you have been warned,

beware Of finding more than a treasure horde.

"Like I said, you'd be mad to try and rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry, and Atlas made for the counter. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come to take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter's safe." "You have his key, sir?" "Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry and Atlas watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. "Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order." "And I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which." The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!" Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets,

he, Harry, and Atlas followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall. "What's the You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which?" Atlas asked. "Can't tell you that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More than my job's worth to tell you that." Griphook held the door open for them. Harry and Atlas, who had expected more marble, were surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards, and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled, and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They all climbed in, Hagrid had some difficulty, and were off. At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. The boys tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, it had to be enchanted because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's and Atlas's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but they kept them wide open. Once, they thought they saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late, they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees trembling. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Atlas gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. "All yours, Harry," smiled Hagrid. All Harry's, it was incredible. How often had Mum had to do without so that Atlas and Harry could have what they wanted. And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. Hagrid and Atlas helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle," Atlas and Harry said in unison. Hagrid laughed, "Well, sounds like your Mum's been doing a good job teaching you boys." Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault You-Know-Which now, please, and can we go more slowly?" "One speed only," said Griphook. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled around tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry and Atlas leaned over the side to try and see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled them back by the scruff of their necks. Vault You-Know-Which had no keyhole. "Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers, and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook. "How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked as Atlas stepped a little closer. "About once every ten years," said Griphook, with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault, the boys were sure, and they leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least. But at first, they thought it was empty. Then they noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry and Atlas longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep my mouth shut," said Hagrid. One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. River was standing there waiting for them. Once she caught sight of Atlas and Harry, she smiled and waved. The boys waved back and ran to her.

"I trust you two enjoyed yourselves," River said when the boys stopped in front of her.

"We did! The bank goes so far underground," Atlas said, looking at River with a huge grin. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, and I have my own vault and it's full to the top with gold and silver and knuts too and–" River cut Harry off by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Slow down now, you have to breathe." Harry nodded and took a breath.

"Okay, now let's go get the shopping done, yeah?" Harry and Atlas nodded. "Okay,"

Hagrid looked at River. "Is it okay if I slip away for a bit before I leave?"

River looked at Hagrid with a smile. "Sure thing, Hagrid." Hagrid nodded and lumbered off. Harry and Atlas didn't know where to run first, especially Harry, now that he had a bag full of money.

"Let's get your uniforms first," said River, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. So they entered Madam Malkin's shop alone. Harry and Atlas felt nervous. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said when Atlas started to speak. "Got the lot here, another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. It was Draco. River tapped the boys on their shoulders. Atlas turned and looked at her.

"I have to go get some things real quick, but I will be right back, okay?" Atlas nodded. "Alright." River ruffled his hair before turning around to leave. As she walked out the door, she looked over her shoulder and saw Madam Malkin standing Harry on a stool next to Draco. She slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

While Atlas stood close by Harry waiting for his turn, Draco turned his head to look at them both. “Hello,” said Draco, “Hogwarts too?” “Yes,” said Harry. “My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said Draco. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully my father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” Harry and Atlas were strongly reminded of the pig boy from the zoo. “Have you got your own brooms?” the boy went on. “No,” said Harry. ”Play Quidditch at all?” “No,” said Atlas. “We go to games sometimes,” Harry said, trying to keep still. “I play, Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” “No,” said Harry, probably Slytherin or Gryffindor, Atlas thought as Madam Malkin finished with Harry and he stepped down. Atlas took his place and Draco continued, “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”  ”Mmm,” said Atlas, wishing that Draco would shut up. “I say, look at that man!” said Draco suddenly, nodding towards the front window.

Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Atlas and pointing at three large ice-creams to show he couldn’t come in. “That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, pleased to know something Draco didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.” “Oh,” said Draco, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?” “He’s the gamekeeper,” said Atlas. He and Harry were liking this boy less and less every second. “Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage, lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.” “Well, we think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly. “Do you?” said Draco, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?” “He’s a friend, we’re here with our mum but she’s busy,” said Atlas shortly. He didn’t feel much like saying more than that. “Oh,” said Draco. “But your mum is our kind, isn't she? And so was your dad, right?” “Our mum is a witch and our dad a wizard, if that’s what you mean,” Atlas clipped out as he glared at Draco. “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?” But before Harry or Atlas could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Atlas, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to Draco, hopped down from the footstool. “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said Draco.

Harry and Atlas were rather quiet as they ate the ice-cream Hagrid had bought them (mint and cookie dough with chocolate syrup). ”What’s up?” said Hagrid. “Nothing,” the boys lied. They walked around a bit before River joined up with them again, holding a bag, and then they stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry and Atlas cheered up a bit when they found bottles of ink that changed color as you wrote. River bought them one bottle each to go along with their normal ink. They bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. River and Hagrid almost had to drag Harry and Atlas away from Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. River wouldn’t let either one of the boys buy a solid gold cauldron, either (”It says pewter on your list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the apothecary’s, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots and bright powders lined the walls, bundles of feathers, strings of fangs and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While River asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the boys, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and Atlas examined minuscule, glittery black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). Outside the apothecary’s, River checked the list again after waving at Hagrid as he lumbered off to do something for the second time that day.  “Just your wands left” a magic wand ... that was what Harry and Atlas had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which River stood next to. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry, Atlas, and River jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said the boys awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two soon. Harry Potter and Atlas Black." It wasn’t a question. "You, Mr. Potter, have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that’s where ..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. "I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do ..." He shook his head and then turned to Atlas.

"And you, Mr. Black, you have your father's hair and eyes, but you more favor your mother. Let’s see, your father favored a cypress wand, thirteen inches, unyielding. Well, I say your parents favored it, it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

To Harry’s relief and Atlas’s, he spotted River. "And you, young miss, I do not remember selling a wand to you."

River smiled as politely as she could after hearing and seeing this man make her boys uncomfortable. "That is because you didn't, Mr. Ollivander. My wand was made by someone else.”

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving River a piercing look. "Well, now, Mr. Black. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I’m left-handed," said Atlas.

"Hold out your arm. That’s it." He measured Atlas from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head.

As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Black. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” Harry and Atlas suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between Atlas’s nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. “That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Black. Try this one. Apple and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Solid. Go on, give it a wave.” Atlas took the wand and waved it around; the ink bottle on the desk exploded, and Mr. Ollivander took the wand away from him at once. “Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches. Unyielding. Try this one.” Atlas took the wand. He felt an electrical feeling in his fingers. He flicked the wand with his wrist, and a stream of lightning shot from the end like a storm. River let out a joyous laugh, and Mr. Ollivander clapped, “Well done, Mr. Black, well done.” Atlas went and sat down next to River, and Harry walked up to Mr. Ollivander, “Now, then Mr. Potter, wand arm?.” He pulled the long tape measure with silver markings up off of the floor. “Oh, I’m right-handed,” said Harry. “Right then, hold out your arm.”

He started to measure Harry, same as he did to Atlas, after he was done measuring just like with Atlas he took down boxes. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.” Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. “Here, maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –” Harry tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. “No, no, here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” Harry tried. And tried. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, at this point, Harry was starting to think that he had no magic at all and was losing hope that he was actually going to Hogwarts by the second, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves,

the happier he seemed to become. “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere, I wonder, now, yes, why not, unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air, and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. River and Atlas whooped and clapped, and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious ...” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper like he did to Atlas’s wand, still muttering, “Curious ... curious ...” “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother, why, its brother gave you that scar.” Harry swallowed. Atlas looked at Harry worriedly, and River goes to grab Harry, “Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things, terrible, yes, but great.” Harry and Atlas shivered. They weren’t sure they liked Mr. Ollivander too much. River paid fourteen golden Galleons, seven Galleons each for their wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed to them as they left his shop.

Once outside, Hagrid walked up to them carrying a large cage which held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. “Happy birthday, Harry,” Hagrid said, holding out the cage to Harry who took it and started stammering his thanks. “Don’t mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. Harry looked at the owl in the cage then at Atlas and Hagrid. “So, is it okay if I share the owl with Atlas?” That made Hagrid chuckle. “She’s yours, Harry. You can do whatever you want.” Harry smiled at Hagrid. The late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky as River, Hagrid, Harry, and Atlas made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall and back into the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked up the stairs; he didn’t even notice when Atlas shoved him onto the couch or that Hagrid had helped carry everything up to the flat before leaving. Harry sat on the couch with the sleeping snowy owl on his lap.

Harry only realized they were home when River tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, what do you want to order for dinner? Atlas said it was your pick,” River said. Harry nodded and River went out and bought pizza from a place close by and brought it back to the flat. They ate in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Harry kept looking around at what they had bought in Diagon Alley. Everything looked so strange, somehow. “Are you okay, Harry?” said Atlas. Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had one of the best days of his life, and yet, he chewed his slice of pizza, trying to find the words. “Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “But I don’t know much about magic. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened the night my parents died.” Atlas moved next to Harry on the floor and hugged him. “Don’t you worry about it, Harry. They don’t know you like me and Mum do and besides, we will learn everything once at Hogwarts, and I’ll be there so you won’t be alone. You’ll see, Harry, everything will be fine.” River nudged Harry who looked up at her as Sir Reginald crawled into Harry's lap. "You do not need to be some great and all powerful wizard, Harry. You just need to be yourself, that's all." Harry's eyes began to water and River held her arms open. Soon, she had both boys wrapped up in her arms and a cat on her shoulder as Harry cried. He cried for himself, for his parents, for Atlas, for River, but most of all, Harry just cried. Once Harry had calmed down and they started to finish the pizzas, River told them stories and showed them pictures of Hogwarts, of Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Victoria, and herself. The rest of the night was a good one, filled with laughter.