The meeting room was small, dim, and wrapped in layers of magical security.
Zeus Hotel was famous for that—no ears pressed against walls, no enchanted bugs, no hidden ghosts. What was spoken here stayed here.
Just as Jason had promised, his "friends" from Gringotts arrived.
Two nervous-looking wizard–employees stepped through the door, jumpy from the moment they appeared. It wasn't because of the situation. It was because of the masks.
Harry sat at the head of the table, a serpent-shaped mask covering his face, hood shadowing the rest.
Sam and David flanked him on either side, also masked—silent, unmoving, like executioners awaiting orders.
Jason, however, sat on the far chair, unmasked and relaxed, acting like a neutral third party, tapping a quill on the table as if he had absolutely nothing to do with the masked group. It created the perfect illusion.
These were merely "clients."
Jason was merely a "mediator."
The two Gringotts workers kept stealing glances at the three silent masked figures. Their hands shook. Sweat rolled down their temples.
They had heard stories—whispers in the goblin tunnels—about masked vigilantes operating in Knockturn Alley.
Some said they were Death Eaters resurfaced.
Others said they were a new cult.
Harry made sure they kept believing whichever rumor worked in his favor.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Relax," he said, voice calm and distorted by a masking charm. "We are not associated with the Death Eaters. Nor with Voldemort."
The two wizards froze. One whimpered slightly at the name.
"We are…"
Harry paused for dramatic effect.
"…preservers."
The older Gringotts employee swallowed. "P-Preservers?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "We preserve what is left behind by the ancient wizards of this world. Before it falls into the wrong hands. Before it is sold. Destroyed. Or forgotten."
The two men exchanged terrified—but hopeful—looks.
Jason cleared his throat.
"Well, I think we should get started. They brought what you asked."
The older Gringotts worker fumbled inside his enchanted coat and pulled out a thick, folded parchment. He placed it on the table with trembling fingers.
"This," he said, voice cracking, "is the map of Italy. All excavations Gringotts has done in the last two years, and all suspected locations connected to Arcanus."
Harry motioned with his hand.
Sam silently took the map and spread it on the table.
It was covered in red markings—hundreds of them.
Harry's eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"This many?"
The younger wizard nodded nervously.
"Arcanus was not only a warlord… he was a genius in enchantments. He made dozens of decoy vaults, fake tombs, illusion chambers. Layers upon layers of dead-ends. Gringotts broke through thirty-five wards, and most of them held nothing but dust or traps."
Sam tapped at one red circle.
"And the real treasure?"
The wizard winced.
"We're… close. A couple of months at most. But…"
"But what?" Harry asked.
The employee wet his lips.
"The problem is that most marked locations—" he pointed at several heavy clusters on the map "—are on private property. Italian wizarding families. Old blood. Old money. Proud. Suspicious."
Harry already understood.
"They will not give permission to dig."
The man shook his head violently.
"Absolutely not. They won't allow foreigners—especially unknown ones—to tear up their land looking for a treasure every wizard in Europe has dreamt of for centuries."
Jason chimed in, smirking.
"And Gringotts cannot risk starting a diplomatic incident."
Harry leaned back slowly.
The Serpent Court sat silent around him, still and deadly behind their masks.
The older man swallowed hard.
"And we… need money."
Harry tilted his head behind the serpent mask.
"Money," he repeated. "Gringotts doesn't pay you enough?"
The younger wizard shook his head violently.
"If they find out we even handed this map over—"
He paled.
"—we'll be sacked. Or worse. Goblins don't forgive betrayal."
"So," Harry said slowly, fingers tapping the table, "you are betraying your employer and how do I trust you?."
"Because we have no choice!" the elder wizard blurted out desperately. "My family is drowning in debt. And—" he gestured at his companion "—his wife is sick. Curse-sick. The healers in America want five thousand galleons for treatment. We can't pay that with our salaries."
Jason muttered under his breath, "That's why I brought them."
Harry leaned forward, voice low and dangerous.
"Then tell me what you expect from me."
The two employees exchanged a quick glance.
"We want… compensation," the older one whispered. "If we're risking everything, we want to get paid."
"How much?"
The younger wizard hesitated, then whispered, "Five thousand galleons each."
Harry didn't even flinch.
"Done."
Both men froze, staring at him as if they had just made a deal with a demon.
Harry continued:
"You will receive five thousand galleons each for the maps and your cooperation. But I know," he tapped the parchment, "that this is not the only treasure project Gringotts is running."
Silence.
Both men stiffened.
Harry's voice darkened.
"Give me information about other hidden vaults, tombs, or treasure hunts Gringotts is secretly pursuing… and I will pay you an additional thousand galleons for each one."
Their breathing quickened.
Greed, fear, hope—all at once.
The older wizard nodded rapidly.
"Yes. Yes, we can. There are at least three more High-Risk Excavation projects in Europe. I— I can get you documents. But not so fast."
"That's fine," Harry said. "Bring them here when you're ready. Same masks, same room. Jason will handle the meeting."
The two men stood abruptly, bowing clumsily.
"We… we agree. We'll get you everything."
Harry made a dismissive gesture toward the door.
"Then go. Before someone starts asking questions."
They hurried out, nearly tripping over each other.
Once the door shut, Sam let out a low whistle.
"Harry… you just bought two Gringotts insiders."
Harry leaned back in his chair, serpent mask glinting in the candlelight.
"No," he corrected softly.
"I bought their desperation. Desperate men are the easiest to win over."
The Serpent Court nodded in silent agreement.
A soft ping echoed through Harry's ears, and a glowing blue screen materialized in front of him.
[Sub-Quest Completed]
[Gather Intelligence From Jason's Contacts]
[Status: Success]
[Rewards]
[+200 EXP]
[Skill Scroll: Advanced Goblin Warding Style]
[+2 INT]
Harry blinked once.
His experience bar climbed slightly, and a warm surge of clarity washed through his mind—thoughts sharpening, mental pathways widening. His intelligence stat clicked upward.
But the real prize hovered in the center of the screen:
[Skill Scroll — Advanced Goblin Warding Style]
Rank: Rare
Effect: Permanently increases Goblin Warding comprehension.
Unlocks advanced rune-sequences, structural ward-links, anti-detection matrices, and crystalline barrier layering.
Can only be used once.
[Would you like to learn this Skill instantly?]
[Yes / No]
Harry tapped YES.
The scroll dissolved into shimmering violet dust, spiraling into his chest.
A burning line of runic symbols flashed behind his eyelids—fierce, jagged, impossibly complex like hooked claws carving into steel.
His whole body jolted.
[Goblin Warding Style has evolved!]
[Goblin Warding Style — Lv. 9 → Advanced Goblin Warding — Lv. 3]
[Your mastery of goblin defensive magic has increased]
[Ward creation time reduced by 30%]
[Ward penetration ability increased]
[New sub-skills unlocked: Multi-Layered Runes, Blood-Key Insight, Inversion Seal Pattern]
Harry exhaled slowly, feeling the new knowledge settle deep in his magical core.
This wasn't just another ability.
This was a weapon.
A weapon goblins guarded with their lives.
Jason whistled.
"Boss… you okay?"
Harry smirked behind the serpent mask.
A thin line of blue light flickered briefly before fading—the final sign that the system fully accepted the new skill.
Harry flexed his fingers, feeling runic power pulsing beneath his skin.
Within two days, Harry found Cassandra standing in the kitchen with a stack of parchment so thick it looked like a small book. Her hair was tied back in a sharp ponytail, and her Auror robes were exchanged for casual clothes—yet she looked more official than ever.
Harry nearly dropped his toast.
"Is… all that really done?" he asked.
Cassandra smirked, tapping the parchment tower proudly.
"Not just done," she said. "Approved, sealed, and cleared by the Ministry. We're going to Italy, Harry."
Harry blinked twice. "Already?"
"Already." Cassandra leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. "Being the magical guardian of an adopted child have some perks. People suddenly become very helpful when you're taking that child on a birthday trip."
She handed him one of the stamped forms—Harry Potter, under the protection and guardianship of Cassandra Vale, authorized for international magical travel.
He felt a small rush of warmth in his chest.
Couple of years ago, he'd lived in a dark cupboard under the stairs.
Now he was going to Italy in search of treasure.
How the world changed.
Later that day, Harry returned to the Slytherin Castle grounds, where the Serpent Court had gathered beneath the shade of a stone archway. Their faces brightened the moment they saw him.
"So it's true?" Jason asked eagerly. "We're really going?"
Harry nodded. "Cassandra handled it. All paperwork is cleared."
The reaction was immediate—excitement, murmurs, and that almost childlike thrill of a new adventure.
They had all tasted something during the Midnight Auction and now they craved more.
Sam crossed his arms. "So how are we doing it? All of us walking into Italy together will draw attention."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. We split up."
Jason tapped his map case. "Just like we planned. Three groups."
Harry unfolded the parchment Cassandra brought him and read out:
"Jason and Cassia, You two leave tomorrow. Scout the area. Blend in as tourists and note anything suspicious."
Jason grinned. "Already packed."
Cassia gave a cool nod, more focused but just as eager.
Harry continued:
"David, Joseph, and Charles, You three leave the day after. Find lodgings, secure a base of operations, and handle supplies."
David thumped his chest like a proud soldier. Joseph grinned. Charles simply nodded with quiet confidence. They were the backbone of Harry's force, steady and reliable.
Finally, Harry said:
"We'll come last. Official guardian and ward on a harmless holiday trip. No one will suspect us."
Cassandra smiled slightly. "And someone needs to make sure you don't accidentally blow up the anything."
"It was one time!" Harry protested.
The laughter eased the tension and made the large stone hall feel a little warmer.
When the meeting ended, Jason pulled Harry aside.
Jason tilted his head. "Admit it. This is the first time you're leaving Britain, isn't it?"
Harry paused… then nodded quietly.
"I've never been anywhere," he said. "Not really. And now… Italy. Ancient ruins, old magic, Arcanus's forgotten war machines…" A spark lit in his green eyes. "I want to see everything."
Jason grinned. "And you will."
The rest of the day was spent in movement—packing, planning, gathering supplies, and exchanging last-minute instructions. Jason and Cassia left first to pack everything they might need.
David, Joseph, and Charles packed heavy equipment and prepared to leave at dawn.
Cassandra finished her final Auror duties and double-checked every travel permission three times.
And Harry…
Harry stood at the edge of the Slytherin Castle forest, wind brushing gently through his hair, thinking of the treasure of Arcanus. A Roman wizard who created armies of enchanted warriors… whose magic shaped regions… whose treasure had been sought for centuries.
Now it was Harry's turn.
Another quest.
Another dungeon.
And this time—it would lead him across countries and through forgotten history.
Harry had been to the Ministry of Magic only once before, but the second visit felt completely different. Their luggage—weeks' worth of clothes, potions, tools, and supplies—was packed neatly inside Cassandra's enchanted trunk, shrunk to the size of a matchbox and tucked safely in her pocket. Harry kept touching the pocket just to reassure himself it hadn't forgotten.
Cassandra gave him a sideways smile.
"Relax. It won't run away."
Harry grinned sheepishly.
They stopped by the Auror Department first. Cassandra leaned into Amelia Bones' doorway.
"Heading out, Chief! I'll be back in two weeks," she said brightly.
Amelia, who was buried under a mountain of parchment, waved her off.
"Yes, yes, go. Just don't bring back trouble from Italy."
Harry tried not to laugh. Too late, he thought silently.
Cassandra turned to him. "Let's go before someone changes their mind."
They descended into the lower floors of the Ministry, where the walls grew polished and gleaming, and eventually reached the International Portkey Chamber.
Harry had never seen anything like it.
Circular runes glowed underfoot. Dozens of Ministry officials checked permits, stamped visas, and distributed glowing objects that ranged from rusty keys to broken shoes—each a registered Portkey that would hurl travelers across borders in seconds.
Cassandra showed their documents and explained,
"Two-week magical guardianship travel permit. Destination: Rome."
The witch in charge gave them an indifferent nod and handed them a long iron bar enchanted with blue runes.
"One Portkey activation in thirty seconds," the witch said. "Grip firmly."
Harry swallowed. First time doing this. Great.
But Cassandra stood calm and relaxed beside him—though she was obviously excited too.
Another traveler approached—a middle-aged wizard with a curled moustache, muttering in Italian under his breath. He looked at Cassandra and Harry, nodded politely, and grabbed the iron bar as well. Apparently, he was heading to Italy on the same Portkey.
"Ten seconds!" the witch called.
Harry's stomach twisted. He had flown on dragons, used Astral Gate, and plunged through collapsing caves—but somehow, this felt worse.
"Ready?" Cassandra asked.
Harry nodded, even though he clearly wasn't.
"Three… two… one—"
Harry felt a violent hook jerk behind his navel.
The world spun, twisted, stretched, and pulled at him like he was being yanked through a hurricane.
He hated it immediately.
A blur of colors, shifting lights, and the sensation of falling sideways made his head spin. He struggled to breathe—he didn't know which direction up was.
And then—
THUD.
Harry slammed onto cold marble floor.
The room stopped spinning just long enough for him to register that he wasn't dead. Cassandra landed gracefully beside him. The Italian wizard stumbled but quickly corrected himself.
Harry lay there for a moment.
"I hate Portkeys," he muttered into the floor.
Cassandra patted his back, amused.
"You get used to it."
"No… no, I don't think I will."
The chamber they had landed in was elegant and bright, with sunlit windows and marble pillars carved with ancient runes. Warm Mediterranean air drifted in, carrying scents of lemon and sea breeze.
A tall wizard wearing olive-green robes stepped forward.
"Benvenuti in Italia! Welcome to Italy," he said with a warm smile. "I am Marco di Rossi, representative of the Italian Ministry of Magic. Your documents, please."
Cassandra handed hers over. Harry dug his out, still dizzy.
Marco stamped them with a golden seal and bowed lightly.
"Enjoy your stay in our beautiful country. And may your travels be blessed."
Harry exchanged a glance with Cassandra—both a bit breathless, both excited.
They had arrived.
Italy awaited.
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