It was just past noon when the old wizard apparated into Naples. Muggles bumped into him from all sides as he stepped out of the small alleyway in Quartieri Spagnoli , some carrying scowls on their faces as they took in the man's choice of clothing. Bilius Weasley gave his wardrobe a quick up-and-down. The several layers of muggle clothes (t-shirts? Or were they called p-shirts?) constricted his chest a little and made the place feel several degrees hotter. But his brother had sworn that they were a very fashionable item.
The muggles must just be jealous of this outfit, he thought smugly. He walked past apartment walls dotted with graffiti and over cement covered with tiny muggle cars and motorbikes. He observed the Italian locals around him as he walked down the narrow streets, many having double takes as they watched the wizard pass by them.
The most everyone else just has is one p-shirt on! He thought to himself, smile easing onto his ageing face as he looked at his layers upon layers of shirts donning his torso. They must think I'm rich!
Soon, he observed the neighbourhood with a critical eye. He couldn't understand why the wizard's of Naples preferred the old Spanish Quarter to the much better areas of the city. The muggles here seemed suspicious and schemey compared to that of the better neighbourhoods. But then again, their wizarding counterparts were similarly… different from the rest of the population. Where else was he going to be able to purchase Squasc ears for such a cheap price other than dear old DeFalco's in in Quartiere Mezzanotte?
Bilius soon stopped on a plain black door in the corner of a dead end, a dead end he knew would appear in no muggle map. The locals that had followed him with a keen eye quickly averted their gazes, immediately concerning themselves once more with their more ordinary day as he rapped his knuckles several times in an irregular pattern on the door.
A balding, heavy set wizard opened the door gruffly, barely acknowledging Bilius as he entered. The Weasley passed the threshold of the door to be engulfed by grey air, breathing in the scent of what could only be cheap wizarding cigars. He coughed a little as he quickly made his way through the crowded pub, catching sounds from conversations in an array of different languages, understanding little.
"No, no, no, sir. You don't understand what I'm after." A dark skinned witch said in English to an old, crippled man atop a rickety chair as Bilius made his way to the back entrance. "I wanted Japanese mermaid hearts, they're a completely different biological makeup to the British variety! If I wanted one from the isles, why would I be all the way out here?"
"You British stronza!" The old man hollered, voice loud and booming in the cramped pub. "Always have to be fucking difficult."
Bilius shivered slightly as he finally reached the back door. He felt relief overcome him as he stepped out into the cool, clean air of the Italian wizarding street of Quartiere Mezzanotte . He really did not enjoy the process of coming here very much. But the deals! He took in the street in front of him, shop merchandise spilling out onto the narrow path as it stretched out before his eyes. Items piled impossibly high in awkward, seemingly physically impossible ways. Books, cauldrons, boxes labelled with things the English wizard couldn't pronounce, and more. He supposed the place reminded him a bit of Knockturn Alley in London (too much for comfort, really), but the prices were much more competitive. So competitive the wizard couldn't resist picking up an international portkey every month or so to stock up on knick knacks. So competitive he could even ignore the occasional… suspicious characters. Or the all-over suspicious characters, really.
He made his way down the jumbled street, keeping a keen eye on the sales painted on the grimy store windows as he went. The sun crept further and further away from the city as he went, the wizarding street slowly enveloping itself in a soft grey light as the dusk set in.
It was nearing six o'clock as Bilius finally found himself in front of DeFalco's potions supply store. He gripped a black bag filled with prior purchases he felt quite giddy about as he approached the door.
Bilius had almost gripped the handle before a quiet psst from a side street broke the silence. He looked back and forth along the footpath of the main thoroughfare, which sported only a few small groups of shoppers at this time of day. None of which were paying him any attention. The wizard strode slowly over towards the side street beside his favourite store, cherry wand in his grip giving him enough confidence to swing his head around to discover the source of the noise.
What he saw was a boy.
No older than ten, it was a small boy with wild black hair sitting atop one of the wooden crates outside DeFalco's side door. The boy stood up upon meeting him, eyes darting to the street and the few Italian wizards that passed it behind Bilius.
"Mr Weasley!" The boy exclaimed, shuffling closer to the man. Bilius felt a smile creep up unbidden on his face as the boy came closer. He had made few friends since he started his monthly excursions to Quartiere Mezzanotte, and the local boy was one of those few.
"Little Giacomo!" He greeting the boy, dropping his shopping bag to one side as he gave the boy a welcoming pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you again! Tell me, are you always lurking about right next to our dear DeFalco's? Should I let the man know he has a little wizard taking up free real estate right on his alley?"
Giacomo's eyes bugged out his head, a reaction much stronger than Bilius was expecting.
"N-No!" The boy gasped. "It's just that… the entrance close to my house is just there." He pointed down the alley behind him to a brick wall several feet away, appearing to all the world a solid mass. Bilius knew it was more than it seemed however, the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Diagon Alley coming to the forefront of his mind.
"Oh." Bilius said, eyebrows rising. "Well, you don't tend get very far in here, do you, chap?"
"Mother told me I should never speak to strangers, Mr Weasley." Giacomo replied. "Especially wizards."
"Well, if you grow up so close to this place, I can understand why." Bilius eyed a few strange characters as they crossed his narrow field of vision on the main street. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen Giacomo actually in Quartiere Mezzanotte. He often ran into the young wizard in the muggle streets, or in wizard's alleyways. Never actually around other wizards. He observed the boy appraisingly. Must be quite a smart young chap, to never meddle with the wizards of Naples. Not to mention the boy's heritage. Must be dangerous for a young British boy to grow up in Italy.
"About what I asked you last time, Mr Weasley…" the boy trailed off, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Bilius' eyebrows furrowed for a moment, cogs in his head turning, before he let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Please, sir." Giacomo pleaded. "My mother really can't do those sorts of things herself. She's been ill since she got dragon pox last summer. That's why she never comes out of our house."
"I don't know…" The wizard replied slowly. "Are you sure you're alright, kid? I'm not sure how I feel about this..."
"But you're British as well, you know how it is!" Giacomo sighed, a pout forming on his face. "My mother really said it was okay! You can meet her right now, if you want! The pox has her on the bed most days though, but you get used to the smell of the puss-"
Bilius pictured a disfigured, sallow-faced woman in his mind's eye at the boy's words, pox wounds seeping out a thick yellow-
"Oh no, no!" He gasped, hand unconsciously rising to cover the lower half of his face. "That… that wouldn't be necessary, my boy. But… ah…" He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
He watched the boy's hopeful face, knowing how the kid had conned him into admitting he would 'think about it' last time, and how doomed he was as he watched that hopeful expression. Merlin, having so many little nephews has turned me soft.
"Would this change your mind?" Giacomo reached into his robe pocket and brought forth a small handful of golden coins.
"Dear Merlin! Wherever did you get half a dozen galleons from, boy?" The wizard gasped, clutching his heart dramatically as Giacomo let the golden metal fall into his receiving hand.
"My, uh, mother's old job…"
"Ah, that's right! You did say she used to work for Potions for the Most Mortifying Magical Maladies ? I've heard they have the most excellent severance packages for upper management-"
"Yep. Yep, that's what it was." Giacomo cut in quickly, slightly wide-eyed. "So tell me Mr Weasley, do you think you can go, ehem, talk to the administrator tomorrow, or the day after?"
"Oh please dear Giacomo, I've told you many times. Call me Bilius, boy!" The man replied, now staring down at the glittering gold in wonder. It was more money than he'd ever held at one time in many long years. He glanced down at his purchases on the floor, knowing they would only add up to a few megere sickles if he were to resell them in Knockturn Alley. He could afford even specially imported Ugandan firewhisky with the number of galleons he held in his palm!
"Though I do say, my young chap, this sort of thing isn't exactly legal ." He hesitated, looking up at Giacomo again. "Surely you cannot simply speak to someone at the Muggle Communications department in the Italian ministry? They could quite easily get you into a muggle primary school if that is truly what she wants."
Giacomo's face scrunched up suddenly, the picture of youthful despair. "But the ministry is just so mean to us, Bilius." The boy fumbled with his hands for a moment, eyes darting shyly around. "And my mother is just so ill, as well. And she really wants me to go to this school in particular. Unless you didn't want these coins?" The boy reached forward to the cluster of galleons in the Weasley's hand.
"NO! " The man growled. His lips peeled to reveal a sudden snare, posture stiffening and other hand going to cover the money like one would a treasured jewel.
"I can do it," he assured. "Just give me a day. Did your mother write the address down?"
"Of course, sir." The scrawny boy reassured, procuring a piece of white parchment from his robe, along with a few pages of muggle paper. "Just a basic confundus charm will do. I just need her to think I go to the school and put me in the school, uh, system.. thing."
"Yes, yes, whatever." Bilius Weasley took the parchment and the sheets of paper, quizzical look growing as he took in the information on the latter. "You're a… resourceful little fella, aren't ya, kid? How old did you say you were again?"
"I'm nine." Giacomo replied, sniffing at the growing cold as the sun continued its descent. "But that's all just, uhm, stuff my mum has made to give to you. Because I'm only nine. Obviously."
"Right…" The redheaded man trailed off, lips pursing in thought. "Whelp, I'm off then. Pray the Italian aurors doesn't catch me doing this. Dear Merlin do they hate British Wizards! It's funny actually, my brother Arthur said that the muggle ministries' relationship is very different! Why I'd never-"
And with that, the British wizard trailed off in a long-winded tangent about muggle governments, embellishing parts where he was seemingly unaware muggles did not have access to floo powder. The young boy once more sat upon an old wooden crate in the alleyway and simply listened, smiling all the while.
Autumn had arrived quite unexpectedly. A cool chill swept across the country, and school children shivered on their way to and from the school at the end of the lane. The school was smaller than most in its city. It boasted clean, manicured gardens that hinted at the private institution's prestige as one entered the grounds. Visible from a closed window on the third floor, a small class of children sat expectantly as their teacher handed paper back to each student.
"Nineteen out of twenty, Giacomo. Very well done. I daresay we have an English master in this class." Mrs Boni chuckled to herself as she handed the sheet of test paper to her shy pupil. "If only you were this capable with your other subjects, but I guess one can't have everything."
"Thanks, Mrs Boni." Giacomo replied sheepishly. The old teacher looked back at the next test paper, mouth just starting to form the first syllable of the next student before the wild haired boy interrupted her.
"Say, Mrs Boni." He hesitated. "If my parents don't have time the whole of next week -"
"Oh no, Giacomo. All parents must have their interviews. We can't change the rules just for you. Even if your parents are so busy ."
"Oh no." The boy said almost to himself, paling. The woman frowned at the student for a moment.
"It's not to worry, dear." She said. "You're doing plenty good enough. I'm sure your parents will be very proud of how you're doing." She turned on her heel, eyes back on the test paper once more.
"Claudia, eight out of twenty." A small gasp from a brunette girl with pigtails sounded behind the despiring boy. "With the amount you stare at poor Giacomo, one would think you would have picked something off of him by now!"
The class of ten year olds erupted into giggles as the girl bunched her hands in her hair, face red with embarrassment.
"Giacomo!" A voice whispered earnestly beside him. "Claudia totally likes you! Do you like her back?"
"Uh..." Giacomo stuttered, hand going to his wild black mop of hair in a fruitless attempt to tame it down anxiously. "I don't know. I haven't really ah, noticed her." His friend sighed, leaning back on his chair as he threw a teasing expression on his clueless classmate.
"Surely you noticed her the other day?" Ezio Lombardo's eyebrows wiggled as he nudged the other boy. "She practically threw herself into your arms! And you jumped away like a little mouse! Pretty cold, amico. She still has that bruise from where she fell."
Giacomo groaned. Ezio eventually, mercifully, ceased torturing his best friend as Giacomo grew closer and closer to becoming one with the floor below his chair. Such a thing was only prevented by a harsh word about proper posture from Mrs Boni, with Giacomo bolting straight upright once more.
"Anyways, are you sure you can't come hang out with us at the park today?" The teasing boy asked, doodling in one hand onto a textbook and tapping his fingers with the other.
"Sorry, Ezio." Giacomo signed, looking over his quiz and frowning. "You know my parents, gotta be home right after school."
"Whatever." The other boy whined sourly. "You never do anything fun with us, ever. What's up with your parents, anyway?"
"They're just lame, that's all. Can't be helped." Was Giacomo's only reply as he zoned in on the one wrong answer on his sheet of paper. "Hmmph. I only spelled one word wrong. How lame is spelling, anyway?"
"I can't even spell in Italian. " Ezio pouted, the dark skinned boy's brow furrowing at his mark of ten. "Why do you care so much, anyway? You already do so well. Surely your parents aren't that mean?"
"No, it's not that." Giacomo answered, lifting his head to look at the bright sky in the window. "Well, I guess maybe it kind of is. I just don't know how long I have here, after all."
"What do you mean? Are you dying? If you are, can I have your pencil case? My little sister won't stop chewing on mine at home."
Giacomo giggled at his friend's words and looked towards him to see Ezio's lip pursed and arms crossed.
"Okay." He agreed. "If I die, you can have my pencil case." A brief silence fell over the two as their teacher continued handing out the last of the test papers. Giacomo felt beyond happy when he had made his first friend at the school. Ezio knew nothing of wizards or the magical world, yet Giacomo had still seen him levitate an apple one day in the schoolyard, like there was nothing unusual about it. Giacomo wondered if Ezio would grow up to become a strong wizard too, like he knew his parents to be. He pictured taking Ezio over to his house and having his parents return home, and how they would tell his best friend all about spells and potions and magical creatures.
But then he thought about how his parents would talk about boys like Ezio, and how they were lesser. And he knew he had to keep his friend as far away as possible.
"There's something weird with you." Ezio said, slowly picking up his pencil again. Giacomo shifted uncomfortably on his chair. The boy's brows furrowed as his friend continued.
"You never talk about your parents, or where you went to school before you came here. Or anything like that at all." The boy frowned as he scratched out his most recent doodle in his book, harsh lines destroying a cartoonish depiction of a dog wearing medieval battle armour.
"And you always talk like you're not gonna be here soon. Like I'm gonna go to school one day, and you'll just be gone."
"Hush, Ezio." Mrs Boni cut through. Both boys looked up to see that she had returned to the front of the class, hand clutched around a stick of chalk. "It's time for your English lesson, children. Now, today we're going to have a look at these new words-"
"I'm sorry, Ezio." Giacomo whispered as he glanced back at his friend, who had settled his eyes firmly back on his textbook.
"It's just… difficult to say." Giacomo struggled to speak. "I can't tell you why, but… I might have to move, some time. Maybe some time soon, or some time in a long time. That sort of thing. I don't know when."
"But why?" Ezio whispered back. "You're my first best best friend. Why can't you tell me why your parents-"
"I can't. I'm sorry."
Ezio huffed at his friend's only response, slouching onto the desk and placing a hand on the side of his head, effectively blocking his friend from view.
Those words were the final ones spoken between the friends that day, the final school hour quickly passing them by before it was time for him to head home again. He gave one last hopeful look to his friend as he left, but Ezio was steadily avoiding his gaze as he put on his school bag before trudging out of the classroom. The black haired boy sighed, hoping that his friend would be out of his poor mood by the next day.
Clean, upper middle class houses soon gave way to more battered, desolate apartment complexes as the boy walked through the city of Naples. It was still a long walk after he exited the bus, the dusk beginning to settle in as he inched closer and closer to the street he called home. Eventually, Giacomo come to a stop outside a bakery. The shop jutted out of an old building that towered a few storeys high, a few clotheslines peppering the sky above it.
He entered, hand reaching into his pocket to take out a few lira notes as he strolled up to the front desk of the tiny establishment.
"Hey there, piccolo! Same as usual?"
"Yes please signore." Giacomo meekly replied, as the store owner placed one simple loaf of bread on the counter. He exchanged the money with the man before grabbing the loaf by the knot of the bag, holding it by his side.
"Been doing all of Signora Durante's chores again, piccolo?" The man asked kindly as he looked at Giacomo's lira bills, old laugh lines pulling up to create a warm smile for the boy.
"I guess." Giacomo shrugged. "Sorry signore , I have to go now. My mother and father are waiting for me at home."
"Si, si ." The man nodded. "But here, child. Something for the road, on the house." Before Giacomo could say anything in response, the baker had pushed a large frosted bun covered in plastic wrap into his other hand.
"Really? Thank you, signore !" Giacomo left the bakery with a bounce in his step, troubles temporarily forgotten as he looked forward to the sweet treat. He would save it for later, he thought to himself. Maybe he'll share some of it with Ezio the next day. The boy loved food bribes.
A few minutes later Giacomo had finally reached his house. He walked through the unlatched door and into the dark apartment, knowing his parents' enchantments meant he would not have to worry about any potential intruders.
He had sat his backpack, bread, and frosted bun onto the dining room table before he realised anything was wrong.
He looked up. A light had been flickered on in the room, blinking above him and swaying slightly from left to right.
"What's this we have here, little Altair?" A woman's voice came from behind him. The boy's eyes widened in surprise as he flipped around.
"You're back." He said, eyes travelling down nervously as his mother stood in the kitchen. He hadn't even heard her enter the room. She stalked up to him slowly, stopping a few feet in front of him and tilting her head to squint at the clothes on his body.
"Yes, your father and I are back. But," she suddenly shot a hand out, much like a snake would attack its prey. Unforgiving fingers clutched around the boy's school tie. She pulled upwards on the knot, and the boy felt his throat tighten at the pressure. Fearfully, he looked up at her dark eyes for the first time in a long time.
"We leave you alone for just a widdle bit ," the woman pouted, shaking the tie from side to side. The boy struggled to keep to his feet. "And when we come back, not only are you nowhere near the house, but you're wearing muggle school clothes . Little boy, what will we do with you?"
She released her grip on his tie, but not before tugging it downwards in a manner which forced the boy to struggle not to topple forward. The woman stalked around him, seizing him up.
"You were gone for almost a year, mother." The boy said, gasping for air. He let himself be a little proud of his words. The last time he had spoken to her, he had stuttered in every sentence. But not anymore.
The woman didn't react to his words. He grew nervous and despite himself, let more words come tumbling from his lips.
"I was bored. And I couldn't speak to any Italian wizards, so I just got muggles to teach me things while you were gone." He met her gaze as she finished staring him up and down.
"You better tell me you didn't speak to one Italian wizard." She whispered furiously, hand reaching forward and fisting into his messy hair to bring his face closer to hers. Himself, his mother, and his father were all alike in that sense. Hair so dark and wild that one could almost consider them kin to feral beasts or wild men. He had wondered if people back in Britain ever did, back when his parents used to live there before he was born.
"I didn't speak to any." He promised. "Not one Italian wizard."
The woman's gaze pierced his eyes for a moment, almost searching. Eventually, she seemed satisfied, releasing him once more.
"That's good, Altair." She said, before looking down at the bread and the frosted bun on the table. She grabbed the bun with both hands, breaking into the plastic with long nails and taking a large bite of the sweet, sugary treat. When she spoke again, it was with a full mouth and slightly muffled.
"Very resourceful of you. Doing that."
"Really?" The boy asked, dumbfounded. He hadn't quite known what to expect if one or both of his parents finally returned, but he hadn't expected… acceptance.
"You will still have to be punished." Bellatrix Lestrange said, mouth full of the bun. "You are a clever boy, but you cannot think you can associate with disgusting muggles unpunished. Risking your father and I's safety!" There was a small silence as the woman swallowed.
"This thing you stole is disgusting." She sneered, looking down at the food in her hands. She dropped the bun onto the ground and unsheathed her wand, muttering a quick vanishing spell. Just like that, the bun disappeared into thin air before the boy's eyes.
"Your father will be back any minute, now. We will be moving again, and once there we will discuss your punishment." Bellatrix Lestrange left the room alone to her son, who simply stared at the space where the precious treat had been seconds before.
The thought crossed his mind of two young boys. One had long shaggy hair that went a few inches past his ears, and the other liked to draw funny pictures of dogs in armour. The pair shared a sweet bread before their class started that morning, without a care in the world. No parents, no fears of nasty spells that made him hurt. Only happy grins and floating pencil cases.
Altair shook his head, and watched as the front door opened, a tall man stomping through. Rodolphus Lestrange walked right past the kitchen and into the house's makeshift study, not even serving Altair a glance as he went by. Altair felt his life go back to the way it used to be in an instant, and he knew he couldn't think about dogs in armour anymore, or another boy's cheeky smiles.
Italian words used in this chapter:
Quartieri Spagnoli - Spanish Quarter. An area in Naples said to be of lower socioeconomic, but it seems nowadays has become a bit fancier (I couldn't be sure though, I've never had the privilege of going).
Quartiere Mezzanotte - Midnight Quarter
Stronza - asshole
Amico - friend
Piccolo - little one
I have used basic google translation/other websites to source any Italian words or phrases. If you are Italian/know Italian and notice any errors please send me a message so I can correct them!
