The Serpent Court had never been this busy.
From sunrise to sunset, the group fanned across the Italian peninsula—crossing mountains where the wind howled like ancient spirits, pushing through forests tangled with centuries-old magic, stepping into vineyards that smelled of sun-warmed fruit, wandering through broken temples where marble had crumbled into dust.
All of it for one goal:
The Chamber of Arcanus.
The treasure of the Roman sorcerer-king whose enchanted metal armies once terrorized Europe.
To Harry, it was not the gold that mattered.
It was the lost spells.
The forgotten rituals.
The arcane blueprints that described magic older and deadlier than anything currently taught.
Knowledge Gringotts desperately wanted.
Knowledge the Serpent Court intended to reach first.
Their guides old associates of Charles, Joseph, and David—arrived with cloaks dusted from travel and eyes sharp from experience.
Harry expected criminals.
Instead, he found scholars.
Dangerous ones, yes—but scholars nonetheless.
They introduced themselves with quiet confidence.
"We don't steal from the living," said a wiry wizard named Marco, giving Harry a respectful nod. "Only from the forgotten."
A witch with silver braids added, "We preserve history. We just… sell parts of it afterward."
Jason elbowed Harry lightly.
"These guys? They know Italy better than any map. Better than the Ministry. Better than Gringotts."
And it was true.
With them, the Serpent Court entered places no Ministry official ever dared to tread:
Collapsed wizard manors whose wards muttered curses in Latin.
Caves where ancient carvings glowed faintly when Harry passed.
Temples swallowed by vines, where the air tasted of old sacrifices.
Underground amphitheaters where Roman sorcerers once dueled animated statues.
Everywhere they went, Harry's eyes flickered blue as he activated:
[Observe]
Silent. Precise.
Crawling over walls, soil, stones, and lingering traces of magic.
But each time—
[No trace of Arcanus detected.]
Only dead ends.
Only ruins.
Only the echo of a legacy too well-hidden.
Even then, Harry found himself enjoying Italy more than he expected.
Jason insisted on making the journey fun.
So did Cassia.
So did David.
So did Cassandra.
The boy who had grown up in shadows and fought traffickers hardly knew what to do when people around him wanted him to relax.
"Harry!" Cassia called one afternoon, waving a cone above her head. "You've gotta try pistachio gelato. It tastes like magic should taste."
Harry blinked. "Magic tastes like… nuts?"
Cassia rolled her eyes. "Just eat it."
He took a bite.
His eyes widened. "…this is better than treacle tarts."
Jason snorted. "See? Italy has its own magic."
They took him to fountains where Cassandra encouraged him to toss coins.
"Make a wish," she said.
Harry hesitated. He made wishes only to achieve them with his own strength, not through luck.
But seeing her hopeful expression, he whispered under his breath:
"I wish everyone stay safe."
He tossed the coin.
They dragged him to beautiful ruins, forcing him to stand for photos.
"Smile, my Lord," David teased.
Harry groaned. "If one more person calls me 'Lord' while I'm eating gelato, I'm going to cast Poison Mist on someone."
The group burst into laughter.
And there, under the Italian sun, Harry smiled.
A real smile.
One morning, they climbed the weathered steps of a ruined Muggle temple overlooking a valley. The pillars were broken. The stone cracked. Vines claimed half the structure.
Harry walked ahead, the sunlight brushing his hair.
For a moment, he wasn't Lord Slytherin.
Not Lord Blackfyre.
Not the leader of the Serpent Court.
He was simply a boy standing in a ruin built by hands without magic.
He closed his eyes, feeling the wind.
Cassandra stood beside him, camera in hand, watching him—not the ruins.
"You look… peaceful," she said softly.
Harry opened one eye. "I feel peaceful."
Jason joined them, map in hand. "Don't get too peaceful. We still have twenty locations to check."
Harry sighed. "Of course we do."
David chuckled behind him. "Look on the bright side. At least the views are amazing."
"And the food," Joseph added.
"And the wine—"
"DAVID, he's nine!" Cassia scolded.
"—I meant grape juice," David corrected quickly.
The Court laughed.
And Harry felt… warm.
Even with laughter, even with gelato, even with the occasional sightseeing…
Harry never forgot the truth:
Gringotts was digging.
Gringotts was searching.
Gringotts was close.
Every day they wasted was a day the Chamber might be lost forever.
Harry stood at the cliffside temple, looking out over the valley.
"I can feel it," he murmured. "We're missing something."
Cassandra lowered her camera. "We'll find it. Together."
Day after day, they searched.
Day after day, they laughed.
Day after day, they crossed out false leads and encouraged Harry to eat one more gelato flavor he had never heard of.
Italy became both—
A warzone of hidden wards and forgotten magic,
and
a playground where Harry experienced sunlight, food, friendship, and the simple pleasure of living.
By the time they reached the sixth Temple of Trivia, even Harry could tell the pattern.
Wizard-built temples were never truly abandoned.
No matter how ancient the stone,
no matter how faded the murals,
the magic clinging to them still pulsed faintly—wards humming like a sleeping heartbeat, barriers shimmering invisibly in the air, and that familiar scent of old spell residue lingering like incense.
This temple was no different.
Columns carved with star-patterns rose toward the sky, cracked but still proud. A statue of Hecate—Trivia to the Romans—stood at the center, her three faces turned in three different directions, each watching a different road, a different fate.
Marco stepped forward first, brushing dust off a broken altar. "Trivia and Hecate," he muttered with a touch of reverence, "always got better temples than other deities. See the runes here? Reinforced a hundred times. This place could stand through an earthquake."
Cassia knelt by the stonework, tracing her fingers along the seams. "No disturbances. No fake walls. Whoever built this didn't hide anything inside."
Harry already knew.
He let his magic ripple outward—a gentle pulse of Observe, like a silent sonar. Blue text flickered at the edges of his vision.
[No hidden chambers detected.]
[Wards active. Function: Muggle Repulsion, Weather Shielding.]
[Historical Site]
Another dead end.
He exhaled quietly, stepping back to allow the others to continue their search.
"Nothing?" Cassandra asked.
Harry shook his head. "Arcanus didn't use this style at all. These wards are devotional, not military. And they don't match anything Roman-Arcane."
Joseph looked disappointed. David looked relieved. And Marco simply laughed.
"That makes six false leads," he said with a shrug. "But this is Italy. We have thousands of ruins to go. You'll find your Roman ghost eventually."
He dusted his hands, then brightened. "But before we continue the wizarding sites, there is something nearby worth seeing. A bit more… mundane, but beautiful nonetheless."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Another magical ruin?"
"No," Marco said. "A muggle one. One of the oldest ruins in this area. The Temple of Hera."
Cassia blinked. "A muggle temple? Why would a muggle ruin be relevant to us?"
Marco grinned. "It's not relevant to your treasure. But it's famous. Beautiful. A proper Italian tourist site. And after crawling through dusty wizard tunnels all day, you lot deserve to see something humans built without magic. Call it a break."
Harry looked up at him, thoughtful.
He had seen plenty of wizarding ruins—perfectly preserved structures, frozen in time through enchantment. But muggle ruins were different. Weathered. Raw. They carried the scars of history honestly, without spells hiding their age.
And it had been a long day.
"Let's go," Harry said finally. "I want to see it."
Cassandra gave him a soft smile. "Good. You need fresh air."
Marco clapped his hands. "Excellent! It's only a couple of kilometers away. And the view is worth the walk."
They left the Temple of Trivia behind, the stone goddess watching them disappear through the archway. As they crossed into the open valley, sunlight spilled over ancient hills, and the wind carried the scent of olive trees and warm dust.
For the first time that day, Harry didn't think about Arcanus.
He wasn't searching for treasure.
He wasn't scanning for wards.
He was simply walking toward a ruin—toward a temple built by the hands of ordinary humans—just to see it.
To observe, To understand, To enjoy.
The Temple of Hera did not need enchantments to be beautiful.
Even in ruin, even with half its columns cracked and its marble floor worn by centuries of rain, the place carried a quiet majesty. The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the broken pillars, turning white stone gold. Wildflowers grew between ancient slabs, and birds perched where worshippers once stood.
Harry stood still for a moment, absorbing the sight.
"It's… beautiful," Cassandra whispered beside him.
And it was.
Not polished.
Not preserved.
Not magically frozen in time like the wizarding temples of Trivia.
Just honest stone, touched by wind and weather.
What did it look like when it was new? Harry wondered.
When its roof still held stars of painted gold, when its columns shone like polished ivory, when people prayed beneath torchlight and the sea wind carried their voices across the valley.
He walked under one of the fallen lintels, brushing his fingers along the grooves.
Even ruined… it was breathtaking.
Marco motioned with a grin. "Go on. Explore. Muggles made this one. No wards, no barriers—well, except the tourists, but your charm should handle that."
Jason flicked his wand.
"Notice-Me-Not."
The world seemed to bend around them, tourists unconsciously turning away, their eyes sliding past the Serpent Court as if they weren't there.
Harry stepped forward again, letting his boots crunch softly over fragmented stone.
He reached the center of the ruin. A gust of wind brushed his hair.
And then—
ting!
A familiar sound echoed inside his mind.
A blue screen materialized in front of him.
[Dungeon Detected]
Name: Chamber of Arcanus
Difficulty: Unknown
Enter Dungeon?
[YES/NO]
Harry's heart froze.
This… this couldn't be right.
The Chamber of Arcanus—
hidden beneath a muggle ruin?
A temple with no wards, no magical signatures, no ancient magic residue?
But the system never lied.
He swallowed, staring at the option.
Everyone else noticed the glow around him and turned immediately alert.
"What is it?" Jason asked.
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his finger—and pressed YES.
A deep rumble rolled through the earth.
Stones shifted.
Dust spiraled upward.
The entire back wall of the ruin trembled like a waking giant.
Before their stunned eyes, pieces of broken marble rearranged themselves—columns sliding sideways, fragmented slabs rotating and fitting like puzzle pieces—as if obeying some ancient command awaiting a single trigger.
Within seconds, a hidden tunnel revealed itself:
A dark stone archway,
a descending staircase,
lit by faint silver runes
that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The entrance to a dungeon.
The entrance to Arcanus' Chamber.
Cassandra stared. "Harry… what did you do?"
Harry exhaled, a slow smile forming.
"I think," he said quietly, "Arcanus didn't want wizards to find his treasure."
David blinked. "What do you mean?"
Harry stepped toward the entrance, the cold dungeon breeze brushing his face.
"He hid it," Harry replied. "Not in a wizard temple. Not under wards. Not behind any spells. He hid it where no magical person would ever think to look."
He placed a hand on the stone frame.
"A muggle temple," he said softly. "The perfect disguise."
The Serpent Court exchanged stunned glances.
Jason let out a low whistle. "Brilliant old bastard."
Harry turned back to them, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Everyone," he said, voice steady, heart pounding—
"Welcome to the Chamber of Arcanus."
He took his first step into the darkness.
And the dungeon swallowed them whole.
If you enjoy my work and would like to support me, you can now do so on . Every bit of encouragement means a lot and helps me keep creating more content.
Support me here: (Patre)on – AbinKydd