Published at 27th of June 2024 2:05 pm

Chapter 276: River Stroll

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17 November 1994, Rome, Italy

Harry Potter had a content smile on his face as he strolled through Rome, the late afternoon sun casting warm, golden hues over the cobblestone streets. He walked past ancient buildings cloaked in ivy; each stone etched with the silent narratives of history. The air carried the enticing aromas of freshly baked bread and rich espresso, intermingling with the gentle fragrance of blooming orange trees. The vibrant hum of tourists fused with the harmonious strains of an accordion in the distance.

Harry observed the lively scene with a reflective appreciation. He paused to admire a bustling piazza, where locals conversed with passionate gestures, their laughter reverberating around the majestic fountain at its heart, its waters gleaming under the soft glow of the setting sun.

It had been far too long since he had taken a walk without any worries. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration… He still had more than enough worries to occupy his mind, thankfully, what he lacked was some crisis pressing down his neck, and that was a new breath of fresh air.

From being scared shitless because of some possessed professor, to a possible Basilisk attack, an Archmage wanting to kill him, and the countless tournaments, Harry's life since entering the magical world was chaotic, to say the least. Which was a shame, since he was particularly looking forward to learning and exploring magic in peace… Alas, the world was rarely that accommodating.

The last Potter sat in a muggle café, drinking his third cup of coffee for the day, while watching the sunset. Ah, the view and coffee alone would have been enough to stay in this place. Unfortunately, the school left much to be desired.

Harry could understand people treasuring their legacy. Where someone came from, their origins could be very important… What he did not like was the concept of ignoring any form of progress outside of the framework that they had built for themselves. The sad truth was that someone had purposefully made sure that the Italians went back to their roots, specifically Ancient Rome while ignoring everything else that came after…

It was deliberate, and the militarization of the entire magical Italy was just tragic, especially in contrast to its muggle counterpart, which focused very heavily on the arts… It was something that he found no traces of in the sparse library that was available in the Italian Academy. Whatever caused this shift in prioritization had to have happened after the statute of secrecy was put in place. From the looks of things, someone had probably wanted to use the new shift in magical Italy to spearhead some sort of military attack, but either changed their mind or just died before they could put their plan into motion.

Still, it wasn't Harry's problem… And so far, he was enjoying muggle Italy, despite the whole second task going on. From the headmaster's description, it was a glorified magical Gladiatorial battle, with a few magical creatures that could act as trump cards should someone defeat them and gather their keys…

Honestly, the whole thing sounded very troublesome for very little in terms of gain… Harry had no intention of participating before the task was announced, and he was even less enthused about it after the welcoming feast. Plus, he already had his hands full with Flamel's Alchemy book… Honestly, the more he read the journal, the more terrified of Perenelle Flamel he became.

Seriously, he knew that seers were bullshit because of the rumours regarding Grindelwald, but that woman had pretty much gotten her husband to tailor the instructions specifically to match Harry's skills. Normally, Harry had to repeat a spell a few times, and analyse it with his Arcane Hearing to separate any magical resonance that it might have, then he would have to adapt it to make it his own. The reason why he had never gotten into Alchemy was the fact that he couldn't really afford to mess up even once, since the magic is permanent…

However, the Alchemical rituals that were in Flamel's diary were essentially safe blueprints that he could use for anything. To be perfectly frank, Harry had never seen anyone else take to Alchemy as quickly as he did. So far, he had been working only on transmutation, but if he progressed like this, he would end up becoming proficient in the field in just a few months, something that was unheard of…

He really needed to figure out what Dumbledore's plan was first… It was obviously a ritual of some sort, seven schools, competing in seven tasks. It was all so convenient… Assuming that the original European tournament would have been different if it had been held in Hogwarts, then whoever arranged the attack on the Quidditch World Cup could have done it for this purpose. This kind of investment meant that whatever this ritual was, it had to be very powerful. Conclusion: Dumbledore, or someone in league with him, had arranged the attack…

Now, the second clue is the magical discharge. According to Lily, a magical release of this extent had to have been something powerful being dispelled. It could have been a magical prison, a large ward, or even a prophecy… Anything could have done it as long as the discharge came from something magically powerful. So, that meant that the discharge itself wasn't the purpose, it was just the secondary effect…

The question was what the endgame was… What ritual was Dumbledore planning and why did he have to do something so elaborate and manipulate an entire continent just to pull it off?

His musings were interrupted when he heard a familiar song with his Arcane Hearing. A wizard was walking around the café. This wouldn't have been an issue, but it was the third time he had heard the same song… And there were over five other wizards who kept following him.

At first, he had thought that they were just the Italian version of Aurors, who were making sure that he wasn't breaking the statute of secrecy or committing any type of crime. However, after a prolonged exposure, Harry could feel the inherent malice that they felt for him.

He rolled his eyes… Yes, it was one of those days…

They were probably not going to go away anytime soon, and there was no reason to put the poor muggles around him in the crossfire. He quickly paid for his meal and strolled into a building that he could tell didn't have anyone inside.

He quickly entered it and started whistling. He was in some kind of abandoned warehouse. He didn't know those were a thing in Rome, but whatever. Harry waved his wand, and a chair flew towards his location, slowly being repaired while in mid-air.

Harry kept whistling as he felt the mages put up some privacy wards and some muggle-repellent charms. At least they weren't nutcases, even if their patience had really been tested for hours.

Anyway, he just waited until they started slowly moving towards him. Choosing to take them off-guard, he spoke up, "Well, I didn't expect any visitors… You must be tired from following me all day. Why don't you come to take a seat?"

Harry could practically hear their songs stop for a fraction of a second. They really had no idea what to do with that statement. Three of the mages decided to walk forward with their wands raised. They were wearing white, neutral masks, but their outfit was strangely similar to the ones Hit-Wizards wore… So, they were mercenaries… That was going to be tricky, to say the least.

He gave them a smirk, "Now, now… There's no need to be so violent. Manners are important, you know?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" one of the wizards exclaimed. There was an imperceptible German accent to the voice.

Harry simply shrugged, "Believe me, there's a lot wrong with me and I don't think you'd want to stay here for hours as we talk about my private life. Now, instead of such a boring conversation, why don't we focus on something a lot more interesting? Like, for example, why you've been following me all day?"

One of the other mercenaries chuckled, "Oh, we were just curious about seeing another wizard in Rome. People don't really visit the muggle side… And when I recognized you, Mr. Potter, I couldn't resist."

And that was a French accent… So, the mercenary team didn't come from any specific country… Very interesting.

"I suppose that the fact that Muggle Rome isn't really visited by wizards is true, which is a shame since it's very beautiful. Anyway, I suppose it is possible that multiple wizards in uniform, specifically some kind of mercenary armour, would follow a teenager for hours, only to hold him at wand-point in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. This sounds completely innocent, right?"

The mercenaries didn't seem to know how to handle him… He could feel the mages' teammates getting into position, ready to surround him…

The three in front of him decided to just treat it as a joke, "Well, you're right. We are mercenaries and we've been sent here to have a little conversation."

"You could have just sent an owl, but sure, I'm all ears…"

"You see, our employer is rather invested in the second task of the tournament, and your participation would mess with a lot of their plans."

Harry tilted his head in confusion, "But I'm not entering the second task…"

Again, that seemed to have taken them off-guard, "What?"

"Yes, I told the rest of the champions that I was sitting this one out. It didn't seem very interesting, you know, and I do have other things to do with my life. The only reason I even entered the first one was because of Flamel's Diary anyway."

"You're not entering?" the mercenary in the middle asked while sounding flabbergasted.

"Well, no. That's what I said."

The man on the right elbowed his friend, "Look, we can't really take the chance that you'll change your mind… It's about professional integrity, you see. We have to make sure that you won't be able to participate even if you wanted to…"

That seemed to embolden the two others and Harry simply shrugged, "What a shame. It seems like a peaceful resolution is unlikely."

"Pretty unlikely, I'll bet. Don't worry, since you obviously accommodated us here, we'll try to be gentle. You'll still be having a pretty painful week nonetheless."

"Are you sure you want this fight?"

The mercenary chuckled, "You won a school tournament. Sure, it was impressive and everything, but you've never fought experienced opponents, let alone the fact that we're not on our own."

"You mean the two in the ceiling, the five on my left, the four behind me and the three on my right? I'm still confident about my chances."

Again, that made them stiffen once more, "You really should learn to shut up, boy."

Harry nodded, "Yes, everyone keeps telling me that talking during a fight is a bad idea. Apparently, people are vulnerable if they keep trying to talk while fighting. There's a logic to it, of course… It's hard to multi-task, to focus on your enemies and what you're going to say at once. But you know, before we start sending spells at each other, I do have a question."

The mercenary nodded, "You see, I'm surrounded by trained mercenaries, probably each with a nice little kill count. You haven't attacked since you wasted so much time getting into an ambush position. Seventeen murders pointing their wands at me. I have nowhere to go, no way out. Now, my question is, do I look worried?"

Before they could answer he continued, "Because we both know I'm not an idiot, or reckless for that matter. I fought my fair share of people, and do you know what their biggest mistake was? They let me talk…"

With a snap of his fingers, the ground melted into some kind of liquid, making everyone bar Harry sink down, only for it to solidify once more, trapping them. With a flick of his wand, the two mercenaries on the ceiling were pushed down, only to land in liquid rock as well, and become trapped like their teammates.

He smirked, "Now, dearies, I think you should have a little nap."

With another wave of his wand, the mercenaries fell asleep. He then turned towards the corner, "Now, I know that this must be entertaining, but it's rude to just watch and not contribute…"

A woman melted out of the shadows. To say she was beautiful would have been an understatement. However, what truly captivated Harry was how familiar she looked. It was almost eery, "Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Isabella Zabini and I wish to talk to you about my son."

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