Man of Archives

The funeral of Flamel began early in the morning. The sky was overcast, and a light, cool breeze made the day feel nothing like summer. Nearly all the wizards wore dark robes, creating a somewhat harmonious and somber picture. The procession, composed only of close companions, began walking through the streets from the early hours. The coffin floated in the center, suspended by magical spells. Among the crowd, I quickly noticed Dumbledore, standing out in his gray robes. Yet, despite this, he didn’t seem out of place; on the contrary, he appeared dignified.

 

Describing the coffin itself is difficult. It was a grand structure, crafted from gold, ivory, and various other materials. Moving images adorned it, depicting scenes from the life of this extraordinary wizard.

 

The few days I spent here were rather unproductive in terms of my own magical development. Socially, however, they were a success. Amel and Apolline introduced me to several of their acquaintances among French wizards, and they didn’t shy away from befriending a foreign master.

 

At night, I worked on analyzing the books I’d brought, but I know it will take at least a few weeks of focused effort to process everything. I need to find a place where I can work without distractions. Perhaps I should leave the magical world for a month and then return for further studies.

 

Fleur had shown great promise. She was genuinely striving to enhance her skills and forge her own path in magic using what she already knew. I had no objection to helping her with this. What can one achieve in two days of active training? On one hand, not much. But on the other, if her previous instruction had come from someone with limited knowledge, they wouldn’t have been able to offer much, even if they were a master. With my experience teaching at Hogwarts, I was able to assist the Veela with a few subjects beyond Transfiguration.

 

The funeral itself was most interesting when the coffin passed by us. Afterward, it was simply a wait for the procession to reach the flag and for it to lower. I must admit, I expected something more grandiose.

 

After the ceremony, we returned to our tents.

 

“So, what do your plan to do next, Timothy?” Amel asked as I finished packing my tent into my bag.

 

“I think I’ll continue my journey,” I said with a shrug. “I’m heading to Avignon.”

 

“O-oh,” Apolline murmured. “It’s a beautiful city, but not many wizards live there. It’s not very popular among us.”

 

“Why is that?” I asked.

 

“It’s a city of clergymen,” she replied calmly. “One of the papal residences is there. No one lives in it now, of course, but still… you should be cautious.”

 

That’s true. Before starting my journey, I researched some important and interesting places. Avignon was one of them. The city is considered an ancient stronghold in the fight against necromancers, dark wizards, demonologists, and magical creatures. According to legend, it was here that the main branch of the Inquisition, targeting the true magical arts, was based. Inquisitors were recruited from both wizards and people connected to magic, especially Squibs. Occasionally, powerful wizards who had graduated from magical schools would join them. The Inquisition waged fierce battles against goblins, who, in turn, retaliated by massacring villages whenever they could.

 

In short, the Middle Ages were a bloody and chaotic time, with everyone fighting everyone. I even suspect that World War I was partly triggered by the eerie calm that preceded it. But that’s just a theory, and I’m probably wrong.

 

“You’re really not going to change your mind?” she asked.

 

“I’ll be careful.”

 

The Veela nodded, accepting my words.

 

Our farewell was calm, not overly emotional. The Delacours left to use a Portkey for their journey. I unfolded a map and considered my next move. I could head to Lyon and from there travel to Avignon via the Floo Network or buy Apparition coordinates.

 

I opted for a one-time Floo journey. Without overthinking it, I spun around and, within seconds, found myself on a bustling street in Lyon. The crowds had thinned as many people had returned home after the funeral, but the city was far from empty.

 

“Excuse me,” I said to a witch sitting at a small stall with red apples.

 

“Yes? Want to buy an apple for your beloved mother-in-law?” she asked sweetly. “Or maybe to charm a lady?”

 

“Not exactly,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m looking for the Travelers' House.”

 

“O-oh,” the witch drawled, pointing with her long, blood-red nails. “Go right, and you’ll find your goal. Go left… you won’t.”

 

“So, right it is,” I nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“Hm,” she responded with a strange sound.

 

Following her directions, I turned right at the first corner and soon found a small house with a sign that read "Traveler’s House" in white letters on a black background. Next to it was a simple drawing of a shoe.

 

As I approached, a man of Turkish descent appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His black hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his sharp eyes took me in. His robes, though worn, still had an air of dignity.

 

“There’s a fee to enter,” he said with a smile.

 

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “And how much?”

 

“Ten Galleons,” the man replied, grinning as his eyes flicked behind me.

 

I glanced back and noticed a few wizards loitering nearby, pretending to pass by casually. But their emotions betrayed them; they were clearly planning to extort the ten Galleons from me. Today, however, I wasn’t in the mood for such games.

 

“Listen, guys,” I exhaled, noticing another man aiming his wand at me from the second floor of a building, hoping to remain unseen. “Do you really want to do this? I have my plans, you have yours... there’s no need for us to clash. Someone tried this ‘honest work’ scam on me before, but things didn’t end well for them.”

 

“Oh,” the wizard sneered. “What a shame... No. Pay the tax.”

 

“Gentlemen, what’s going on here?” A wizard in a French Auror uniform approached from an alley. “Is it just me, or does it smell like trouble?”

 

“O-oh-ho-ho,” the Turk laughed, pulling out his wand, which looked dirty and worn. “Ananı sikeceğim, we’ve got ourselves a hero here. What are you gonna do, huh? I’ll shove it down your throat.”

 

“I suggest you lower your wands,” the Frenchman said, attempting to sound calm, though I could sense his fear and anxiety. It was clear he hadn’t expected the situation to escalate and was now searching for an exit.

 

“What if we don’t, you bastard?” the Turk spat. All the wands turned toward the young Auror, though a few remained focused on me.

 

How did I end up in this mess? I was just walking, minding my own business. Maybe the local "god" doesn’t like me?

 

“Then I’ll leave the fine messieurs to handle this themselves,” the Frenchman said, his voice wavering slightly at the end. He was terrified, and the gang of racketeers seemed to be enjoying it. It was obvious they wouldn’t let him go, which meant they were planning something unlawful.

 

The young Auror made a critical mistake by turning his back. The leader wasted no time.

 

“Sabit!” A gray beam shot from the Turk’s wand. The Frenchman barely reacted in time, but he was too slow. I had to intervene. With a flick, I transfigured a wall in front of him, absorbing the spell.

 

That instantly shifted their attention to me. Several flashes of light—nothing more than simple push-pull effects—were easily absorbed by a basic Protego charm. None of them had enough power to break through my shields.

 

The leader turned and shouted, “Oktaladık!” Slashing his wand through the air, he sent an orange wave of magic slicing across the scene. It cut through everything in its path—especially the human bodies. His own comrades, caught in the wide arc, were split in two. In an instant, the scuffle became a bloody massacre. And... he missed me.

 

But the Turk was unfazed. In that moment, the Frenchman sprang into action. With a swift flick of his wand, he disarmed the Turk and bound him tightly.

 

“Well then,” I exhaled. With a flick of my wand, I holstered it and slowly approached the bodies. The wizard who had been poised to attack from above had fled.

 

The surge in my strength and the filling of my Archive were small comforts, but I didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment. If anything, I felt filthy and disgusted. This wasn’t how I wanted to grow stronger.

 

The young Frenchman approached cautiously, his face as pale as chalk. His wand trembled in his hand. A moment later, he vomited. The stench of the sliced bodies filled the air—the spell had cut through stomachs and other organs, releasing a foul mix of fluids.

 

“Call your people,” I said calmly, once he had somewhat regained control.

 

“Yes,” he nodded, pulling out a badge. Pressing it three times, he waited.

 

Within minutes, the sound of Apparition filled the air, and I sensed an anti-Apparition barrier going up. The newly arrived wizards had their wands drawn, predictably aimed at me. Slowly, I raised my hands to show I wasn’t a threat.

 

When they saw the bodies, the wizards became agitated, but their excitement grew when they noticed the bound Turk.

 

“What happened here, cadet?” one of the older wizards asked sternly.

 

“Sir, a civilian wizard was attacked,” the cadet replied. He glanced at me, and I caught the subtle signal in his gaze. I believe I understood him correctly. “As a responsible law enforcer, I couldn’t just walk by.”

 

“I see,” the older wizard said. “Tell me more.”

 

The other wizards quickly cordoned off the area, waiting for further instructions. The young cadet recounted the events, though he left out his initial attempt to flee. In his version, he had immediately engaged the attackers, trying to apprehend them. He claimed the Turk used a spell that accidentally killed his own comrades.

 

Investigators from the Ministry of Magic soon arrived and began using magic to reconstruct the scene. Their findings mostly aligned with the cadet’s version of events, though they turned their attention to me for further questioning.

 

The interrogation was brief and straightforward. They examined my wand and confirmed that I hadn’t cast any unlawful spells. Ultimately, the cadet’s story held, and they accepted it.

 

“Monsieur,” the wizard in charge approached me, “may I ask your name?”

 

“Timothy Jody.”

 

“You’re the Transfiguration master from England visiting us, correct?” he asked with a hint of surprise.

 

“That would be me,” I nodded, showing him my ring.

 

“Incredible,” the wizard nodded. “I saw the recording of your duel at the Olympics. It was truly remarkable, I must say.”

 

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I like to think I’ve improved even more since then.”

 

“I don’t doubt it,” he nodded. “By the way, how did you end up here?”

 

“I was at Flamel’s funeral,” I shrugged. “I had planned to head to a new place, but… after this, I’m not sure I’m in the mood anymore.”

 

“I understand,” he said, nodding again. “There’s a rumor someone tried to rob you in Paris recently.”

 

“Yes, that’s true,” I replied with another shrug. “But it worked out fine for me.”

 

“Aha, and how did the cadet perform?” He glanced toward the young Frenchman, who was anxiously listening in on most of the conversation.

 

“Not bad,” I said. “He got lucky. But he did disarm and bind the Turk well enough.”

 

“That’s good to hear. At least he’s learned something,” the wizard sighed. “I was beginning to think he was a lost cause.”

 

“What’ll happen to this one?” I asked, gesturing toward the bound Turk.

 

“Trial, then prison,” he said with a shrug. “He didn’t quite earn a death sentence. Too bad his accomplices got off so easily.”

 

“Well, serves him right.”

 

The wizards began cleaning up the bodies and wiping away the blood. Once the area was clear, they Apparated back to their base to finish their work.

 

“By the way, my name is Vivien Monsari,” the wizard introduced himself. “If you ever have questions or need help, don’t hesitate to ask. Lyon is my home, and I know almost every wizard here.”

 

“Thank you, Monsieur Vivien,” I nodded. “Can you suggest a place where I can find some peace and quiet?”

 

“I can give you Apparition coordinates for the Vanoise Reserve,” Vivien offered. “You can fly freely on broomsticks there. It’s full of places to relax and clear your mind.”

 

“I’d appreciate that,” I nodded. “I need somewhere to escape from noisy places and people.”

 

After receiving the coordinates, I thanked him again and told him he could contact me if he ever needed help. It felt like the right thing to do—such favors shouldn’t go unanswered.

 

Once Vivien Apparated away, leaving me alone, I allowed myself a moment to relax. The situation had been dangerous and unexpected, but after two attacks in such a short time, I had no desire to stay here any longer. France had turned out to be a rather “interesting” country, in more ways than one. I needed time to think, to get myself back in order, and then, perhaps, I’d try again to reach Avignon.

 

With a spin, I Apparated to the coordinates Vivien had provided. The sensation of being gently pulled through a tunnel gave way to fresh air and a soft, pleasant light.

 

I arrived on a small stone plateau. Taking a step aside, I made room for anyone else who might arrive. The mountain landscape unfolded before me—vast, green slopes, rocky outcrops, and patches of scrub as far as the eye could see.

 

In the distance, I spotted a small village—more of a hamlet, really. Just one street with a few scattered houses. It didn’t seem like many people visited this place often. A sign nearby read: “For registration, go to house 3 on the right.” It seemed even this remote location required visitors to check in.

 

With a shrug, I headed in that direction, savoring the fresh air, a mix of mountain coolness and the scent of unfamiliar flowers.

 

I quickly found the house, though it was far from impressive. It was little more than a dilapidated shack with small, grimy windows. The entire village had an air of neglect.

 

Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and was immediately hit by the overpowering smell of smoldering tobacco. In the corner sat a witch who looked as ancient as the house itself. Thin, gray hair draped over her hunched shoulders, and her face was lined with deep wrinkles, barely resembling a human face. Her eyes were slightly clouded, and a large, black wart sat prominently on her long, crooked nose. Clamped between her lips was an enormous cigar, a faint ember glowing at its tip.

 

Her chair creaked as it slowly turned toward me. She took a long drag, nearly consuming the entire cigar, before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that filled the room.

 

“Cough-cough!” she wheezed, her voice raspy. With a wave of her hand, she conjured another cigar out of thin air, flicking her finger to light it. “Registration?”

 

“Yes, madam,” I replied. “I’d like to register.”

 

I knew she wasn’t someone to underestimate. Her casual display of wandless magic made that clear. I wasn’t certain if I had reached that level myself or if absorbing those souls hadn’t quite given me the boost I expected.

 

“There’s a form, a quill, and ink on the table,” she said, placing the cigar back in her mouth. “Fill it out. Then you can go.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I found the table and saw a simple form requiring only my first name, last name, and the date of registration. After jotting down the information, I sighed quietly. The witch had already turned back to face the wall, the cigar smoldering between her lips. I imagined she’d remain there, waiting for the next visitor, just as she had for countless others.

 

Stepping outside, I took a deep breath of fresh air, savoring the relief from the thick smoke inside. Transforming into a bird, I took to the sky in search of a peaceful spot to rest. I wasn’t interested in crowded or well-trodden areas—I wanted solitude, a hidden place far from others.

 

After flying for nearly five hours, I spotted a beautiful clearing on a small rise, with the dark mouth of a cave nearby. Landing softly, I shifted back into my human form and drew my wand. A few spells confirmed that there was no one around for several kilometers.

 

Still holding my wand at the ready, I entered the cave. It wasn’t very large but spacious enough for me to set up my tent comfortably, without worrying about the weather damaging it. There were no signs of life—no creatures, no disturbances. I illuminated every wall, corner, and even the ceiling, but found nothing. Either no one lived here, which seemed strange, or the local resident was away and unconcerned about protecting their home.

 

None of my spells indicated any signs of life. I could say with about 90% certainty that the cave was uninhabited. With that in mind, I pulled out my tent and began setting it up, using magic to speed up the process.

 

Once the tent was ready, the next task was securing water and setting up a cooking area. There are several ways to obtain water. The most common method is conjuring it from magical energy—a spell all Hogwarts students learn because it works anywhere. Another option is to extract condensation from the air, but that has its limitations. You can also draw it from the soil, though this method can harm the environment. The final option, taught only in advanced Charms classes, is accessing an underground stream or reservoir, which is a complex spell.

 

I chose the easiest and most familiar method: conjuring water from magical energy. Pointing my wand at a cauldron, I filled it with water in an instant. I followed that by conjuring a small cooking fire and then casting various protection spells to guard against intruders, whether human or animal.

 

In about two hours, the cave had been transformed into a comfortable camp. My tent stood in the center, ready to be used. A small fire crackled off to the side, with a large pot of chicken soup simmering over it. Magic, after all, makes most tasks effortless.

 

After dinner, I stepped outside and noticed how well-hidden the cave was from the outside world. The sky was growing dark, stars just beginning to appear. A faint reddish glow on the horizon added to the tranquil atmosphere.

 

When the sky finally turned pitch black, dotted with countless stars, I returned to the cave. Inside the tent, I collapsed onto the soft bed and drifted into meditation.

 

Absorbing the knowledge from those Turkish wizards had been almost useless, though not entirely. All of them had attended one of Turkey’s magic schools, but due to their own foolishness, they had been expelled. Their knowledge was roughly equivalent to that of second- or third-year Hogwarts students, which didn’t reflect well on them. They were just a gang hoping to settle in Lyon and start a new, better life. But, as they say: it didn’t work out.

 

When the last bit of information had been absorbed, I opened my eyes. My body felt a bit stiff, but nothing too serious. I had spent just over a day analyzing it all, which was somewhat surprising… though, on the other hand, not entirely unexpected.

 

I stepped outside to stretch, enjoying the fresh air, and then conjured a hot bath. The view was breathtaking. After washing up and doing my laundry, I decided to test my magic to see how much my power had grown.

 

I started with the simplest spells, following the Hogwarts curriculum. After an hour, I had gone through all the basic spells. Then came the more advanced ones. To my surprise, my power had increased significantly since the last time I did such an assessment. I’d say I’ve become at least three times stronger.

 

I spent the whole day testing my abilities, with a brief break for a snack. By the end, I was fully satisfied with my progress. If I were to rank my magical strength, I would say I’ve moved up several levels.

 

But… even with this growth, I’m still not in the top league, where the true monsters of the magical world reside—people like Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, Grindelwald, and others. These are wizards you’d never want to cross paths with. The main reason I’m not there yet is that I still can’t perform wandless magic, and that’s the key factor that separates even powerful wizards from the elite.

 

If I had to estimate, I’d need to absorb the knowledge of about thirty more wizards at the same level as those Turks or that thief. But I have a sense that it’s not wise to pursue this too aggressively. It’s safer not to take unnecessary risks. As much as I want to reach wandless magic, rushing could be dangerous.

 

Satisfied with the day’s progress, I returned to my tent and finally began analyzing the books I had brought. I gradually practiced the spells I had learned. After all, theoretical knowledge is of little use without practical application.

 

On the first night, I managed to analyze only two books, but it was still progress. The next half-day was spent practicing the new spells I had learned. The second half was devoted to studying the Philosopher’s Stone.

 

And so, my routine continued. Every night, I analyzed books. In the first half of the day, I practiced spells, gradually improving my skills. In the second half, I focused on research.

 

Time flew by in this cycle of study and training. I didn’t even notice that I had spent over a month in intense magical work. I kept in touch with Nymphadora and Isolde, who were curious about my progress, and I maintained contact with the Delacours, though it would be more difficult now that Fleur had started school.

 

September brought a slight chill, signaling the approach of colder weather—heavy snow, howling winds, and bitter cold were on the horizon. That’s when I decided it was time to pack up and return to society. While I hadn’t completed all my studies, what I had learned and practiced was enough to push my skills even further. I had even made notable progress in Transfiguration, which was a significant achievement.

 

After memorizing the cave’s coordinates, I hid it from prying eyes with several concealment charms. I also collapsed the entrance, sealing it from the outside world. Now, finding this place would be nearly impossible without knowing exactly where to look.

 

With a spin, I Apparated to Lyon. Summer still lingered there, and as I inhaled the warm air, a smile crept onto my face. By now, classes at Hogwarts must have begun. The weather would soon worsen, though perhaps a few warm spells remained—just in time for Quidditch matches. But that wasn’t my concern at the moment.

 

The city was peaceful compared to my previous visit. There were no bustling crowds of wizards hurrying about, no one trying to sell questionable products. Everything seemed… calm.

 

I made my way to the “Traveler’s House,” which was also empty. Inside, it was cool and quiet. Behind the counter sat a man reading a newspaper. To his right were seven neatly arranged fireplaces. To his left hung a large map of Europe, marked with destinations accessible via the Floo Network. All the major cities in France were listed, along with many international cities, including distant capitals like Jerusalem, Cairo, and Abidjan. It was an impressively vast network.

 

“Can I help you with something, monsieur?” the clerk asked.

 

“I’d like to go somewhere warm and not too crowded,” I replied.

 

“Malta,” he suggested immediately. “It’s warm, not many people, and the food’s excellent. You might even run into masters from various guilds.”

 

“Oh?” I was intrigued. “Why is that?”

 

“I’ve heard they go there to warm their bones,” the clerk said in a hushed tone, as if sharing a secret.

 

“Some kind of necromancer business?” I asked with a smirk.

 

Instantly, the clerk’s face went blank. His eyes seemed to lose all focus, and even his mental state appeared to freeze. Perhaps that wasn’t the best joke?

 

“That was a joke,” I exhaled.

 

“H-hehe,” he laughed nervously. “Yeah… good one.”

 

“So, why do they like going there?”

 

“There are a few reserves with rare magical creatures that can’t be found anywhere else,” he said, regaining his composure. “You have to be a master to access them, so it’s pretty quiet.”

 

“Sounds interesting,” I nodded. “I’ll head there.”

 

“Great,” he grinned. “That’ll be half a Galleon, and the destination is Reggio Calabria. From there, it’s less than an hour to Malta by broom.”

 

I paid without any hassle and waited as the clerk made the final adjustments. Once everything was set, I stepped into the fireplace.

 

A second later, I was pulled through the Floo Network. The journey was long, taking just over a minute.

 

Reggio Calabria greeted me with scorching sunshine and the smell of the sea. There were no greeters, which suggested the area had a high level of security. The fireplaces were in perfect working order, and the pots of Floo powder were full and ready for use.

 

Outside, a man in light clothing, a white hat, and black sunglasses sat at a small café. He held a glass of something red—likely wine. Our eyes met, and he raised his glass in greeting. I waved back, and he motioned for me to join him.

 

With nothing pressing to do, I walked over. After sitting down across from him, I relaxed a little, quickly realizing he was a wizard. His wand was openly displayed in a holster for all to see.

 

“Good day,” I greeted him in English.

 

“Good day,” he replied with a slight accent. “Welcome to Italy. Where are you from?”

 

“London,” I answered calmly.

 

“Ah, so you're from England, mister,” he drawled.

 

Then, raising his hand, he shouted something. A young girl with jet-black hair, dressed in light, breezy clothing, came rushing out from inside the café. He said something to her in Italian, and she nodded, giving a small bow before hurrying off again.

 

“Francesca has been working for me for a long time,” the wizard said. “She’s a diligent girl.”

 

The girl returned quickly with a new glass, still frosted with ice. She placed it in front of me and swiftly poured the same red, almost blood-like wine.

 

“Try my best wine,” the Italian said, raising his glass and giving it a gentle swirl, letting the liquid whirl inside. He held the glass up to the sun, watching the light filter through it. “I grew it on my vineyards just outside the city.”

 

I took a sip of the chilled wine and was surprised by its complexity. It had various layers of freshness and a cool, invigorating taste.

 

“What do you think?” he asked.

 

“Very good,” I replied. “Possibly the best I’ve ever had.”

 

“I’m glad you liked it,” he drawled. “So, how long are you planning to stay here, Signor Timothy?”

 

“Oh?” I said, slightly taken aback.

 

“Don’t be surprised,” he chuckled. “You’re a well-known figure, even in quiet places like this.”

 

“Even so,” I muttered, still a bit surprised.

 

The wizard shrugged casually.

 

“As for how long I’ll be here? I’m not sure,” I said, returning to his original question. “I plan to visit Malta.”

 

“Ah,” he drawled again. “I see. How is your family doing?”

 

“Thank you, quite well,” I replied. “They’re still in that cold city, waiting for winter to come. And yours?”

 

“Oh, you know,” he waved his hand dismissively. “My daughter went off to study, my son works in the Roman branch of Gringotts as a curse breaker. My wife, may she rest in peace, has already joined her ancestors.”

 

I stayed silent for a moment, sipping the wine. It truly was delicious.

 

“But never mind,” he waved his hand again. “Let’s not dwell on that. I should introduce myself properly—it’s rude not to. My name is Giuseppe Luciano, the steward of this town. I’ve been working for the Italian Ministry of Magic my whole life.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Giuseppe,” I nodded. “You already know my name.”

 

“So, Signor Timothy, do you plan to stay in this little town, or will you continue your journey?”

 

“Is there anything interesting here?” I asked.

 

“No,” he answered quickly. “Just a small wizarding community and a few Squibs. Nothing more. We don’t even have our own magic school.”

 

“I see,” I nodded. “In that case, I’ll probably not stay long.”

 

“If you decide to stay, I can offer you a room at a small motel,” Giuseppe added. “But it’s the only one around.”

 

“No need,” I declined. Something about him made me uneasy, as if he were trying to rush me along. But I couldn’t just follow another’s wishes without reason—that would be rude. “Better to reach my destination sooner rather than later, right?”

 

“That’s true,” the Italian seemed to relax a little.

 

“Then I’ll need a map,” I told him.

 

“Francesca!” Giuseppe shouted again in Italian, adding a few more words. I didn’t understand most of it, but I caught the word “map.”

 

The girl appeared quickly, placing a map in front of me. It was colorful and highly detailed.

 

“We are here,” Giuseppe said, pointing to a small square. The square glowed red. “You need to go here. This is where the registration for newly arrived wizards on Malta is.”

 

The second square he pointed to lit up in green. A line appeared between the two points, which I could use to cast a direction spell. With a few waves of my wand, I did just that. A small arrow materialized in front of my eyes—visible only to me.

 

“Got it, thanks,” I nodded. “Can I take this map with me?”

 

“No,” he shook his head. “I only have one, and getting another one like it is difficult.”

 

To be honest, I didn’t entirely believe him, but I had what I needed. I should probably invest in a similar map for future travels to avoid these situations. It was something I had somehow overlooked.

 

“Well, okay,” I nodded. “Then I won’t stay long.”

 

The farewell felt a bit rushed. I finished the wine, complimented its taste and quality once more, and prepared to leave. To avoid any awkwardness, I asked about the price of a bottle. When he named it, I placed the money on the table and requested one. Giuseppe sent Francesca to retrieve the bottle, and once I had it, I took off on my broom. After cloaking myself with various spells, I landed on a rooftop nearby and transformed into a bird. My curiosity about why Giuseppe was so eager to get rid of me was gnawing at me.

 

Peeking through a slightly open window, I saw Giuseppe in a compromising position with Francesca. Various enchanted dildo-toys of all shapes and sizes were floating around her. It suddenly became clear why he had been in such a hurry to send me on my way. Some people really will go to great lengths for their desires.