The morning came too quickly.
Teddy realized it the moment he opened his eyes and saw the pale grey light slipping through the curtains of the guest room at Longbottom Manor. For the first time since arriving in Britain, the air felt different—not heavy, not cold, but tight, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
Today was the day they left.
Downstairs, the Manor was already awake.
Neville had been up since dawn, quietly moving through the kitchen with practiced efficiency. He packed enchanted lunch boxes—containers charmed to keep food warm, fresh, and plentiful no matter how long the journey took. Each box bore a small pressed leaf sigil, a Longbottom family charm of protection and nourishment.
"Travel food," Neville muttered to himself, sealing the last one. "Never trust foreign stations."
By the time Teddy and the others came downstairs, the Manor smelled like baked bread, warm tea, and herbs drying near the windows.
Jake was already there, adjusting the strap of his shoulder bag.
"Feels weird," he said, glancing around. "Like leaving a safe zone."
Clarisse rolled her shoulders.
"That's what quests are," she said. "You leave safety behind."
Chris nodded but didn't look convinced.
Teddy clutched his backpack—Harry's enchanted one—closer to his chest.
"I liked it here," he said softly.
Neville smiled at him.
"So did everyone who ever stayed," he replied. "That's how you know a place is worth remembering."
They said their goodbyes slowly.
Luna hugged Teddy first, kneeling so they were eye level.
"Bring me something impossible," she whispered. "They're my favorite souvenirs."
Teddy nodded solemnly.
"I will."
Daphne Greengrass offered him a small silver pin shaped like a crescent moon.
"For luck," she said. "And because Harry would've done the same."
Ernie Macmillan shook Jake's hand with surprising seriousness.
"Britain doesn't see many heroes leave," he said. "Try not to break anything too badly."
Neville watched it all with quiet pride.
Then, with a deep breath, he clapped his hands once.
"Right," he said. "Time to go."
Their last adventure in Britain came not through careful planning—but chaos.
The Knight Bus.
"Absolutely not," Clarisse said the moment it screeched to a halt in front of the Manor, triple-decker and violently purple.
"Oh, yes," Neville said cheerfully. "You can't leave Britain without riding it at least once."
The bus lurched forward the instant they boarded.
Teddy screamed in delight as the floor shifted beneath him.
"This is AMAZING!"
Chris nearly fell over.
"This is a death trap."
Jake grinned.
"I love it."
The bus twisted through streets that bent unnaturally, squeezing between buildings that should not have fit, jumping curbs and narrowly missing lamp posts. Beds slid. Chandeliers rattled. Tea cups flew.
By the time they staggered off near Diagon Alley, everyone except Teddy looked slightly green.
Neville handed out chocolate frogs.
"Tradition," he said.
From there, it was Floo travel.
Neville led them to a quiet hearth behind a wizarding café, tossed in the emerald powder, and spoke clearly:
"Ministry of Magic."
The world collapsed into green fire.
Teddy barely had time to gasp before the spinning stopped—and suddenly they were standing in the vast atrium of the British Ministry of Magic.
It took his breath away.
The ceiling soared impossibly high, enchanted to reflect a cloudy sky far above. Golden fireplaces lined the walls, flaring as witches and wizards arrived and departed. Statues of past ministers stood watch, their stone eyes sharp and knowing.
At the center, a massive fountain shimmered—figures of witches, wizards, goblins, and magical creatures locked in an eternal tableau of unity that Teddy somehow knew was more symbolic than true.
"Woah," he whispered.
Jake tilted his head.
"Your magic feels… different here."
Neville nodded.
"Old wards," he said. "Very old."
They moved through corridors that shifted subtly, staircases sliding into place as needed. Signs hovered in midair, politely pointing them toward International Portkey Services.
The office itself was quieter.
Rows of shelves held objects that looked utterly mundane—a teacup, a boot, a cracked mirror—but Teddy could feel the magic thrumming beneath each one.
A witch behind the desk glanced up, quill poised.
"Destination?"
"Italy," Neville said. "Registered portkey. Longbottom authorization."
She checked a ledger, nodded once, and retrieved a small bronze compass.
"This will activate once," she said crisply. "Arrival point: Italian Ministry of Magic, Rome."
Neville knelt in front of Teddy, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"One of my friends will be there," he said. "He'll guide you out. After that—this is your journey."
Teddy hugged him hard.
"Thank you," he said. "For everything."
Neville hugged back just as tightly.
"Come back safe," he whispered. "All of you."
They gathered in a small circle.
Neville counted them once—twice.
"Everyone hold on," he said.
Teddy clutched the compass.
The world yanked sideways.
They stumbled forward onto polished marble floors etched with ancient runes. The air was warmer here, carrying the faint scent of incense and old parchment.
The Italian Ministry of Magic was different—older, carved deep into the earth beneath Rome. Arches lined the hallways, statues of Roman-era wizards stood frozen mid-spell, and Latin inscriptions glowed faintly along the walls.
A man waited near the exit—dark-haired, sharply dressed, smiling knowingly.
"Longbottom's lot?" he asked.
"That's us," Jake replied.
The man nodded.
"I'm Marco. Welcome to Italy."
He gestured toward a passageway leading upward.
"Rome is loud. Magical borders are thinner. Stay sharp."
Clarisse cracked her knuckles.
"Good," she said. "I like loud."
Teddy took one last look behind him—at the ancient walls, the glowing runes, the last safe checkpoint before the unknown.
Then he stepped forward.
The doors closed softly behind them.
For the first time since the quest began, they had nothing.
No glowing trail.
No ancient ruin rising conveniently out of the landscape.
Just Rome.
The four of them stood at the edge of a crowded piazza, tourists flowing past like a living river—cameras clicking, vendors shouting, scooters weaving through impossible gaps. Ancient stone met modern chaos, history layered so thick it pressed down on Teddy's chest.
"This is it?" Clarisse demanded, hands on her hips. "We cross an ocean, dodge gods, nearly get electrocuted midair—and now we're just… standing here?"
Jake unfolded his map again, tapping it with a finger.
"The ley lines converge here," he said. "Rome is built on old magic. If there's a Hestia temple anywhere—"
"—it'll be closer to the hearth of the city," Clarisse interrupted. "Family homes. Old districts. Not tourist traps."
Jake snapped the map shut.
"And what makes you the expert? Your dad's domain is war, not architecture."
Clarisse stepped closer, eyes flashing.
"And your dad's a thief. Don't pretend maps make you a leader."
The tension spiked instantly.
Teddy shifted uneasily between them, gripping the strap of his backpack. He could feel the magic of the city—warm, old, comforting—but it was everywhere. No single pull. No direction.
Chris cleared his throat.
"Hey," he said quietly.
They ignored him.
Jake pointed east.
"We start near the ancient forums. Old hearths. Old city."
Clarisse jabbed a finger west.
"No. Residential ruins. Places where people lived. Hestia doesn't belong in monuments."
Jake scoffed.
"Monuments are literally—"
"Enough."
Chris didn't raise his voice.
But somehow, it cut through both of them.
They turned to look at him, surprised.
Chris exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're both wrong," he said.
Clarisse felt a flicker of irritation.
"Oh? Enlighten us."
Chris gestured around them.
"This city has been rebuilt a hundred times," he said. "Burned, sacked, buried, rebuilt. If Hestia's temple survived, it wouldn't be obvious. It wouldn't be loud."
Jake frowned.
"So where?"
Chris looked at Teddy.
"Teddy," he asked gently. "What does Hestia feel like to you?"
Everyone went quiet.
Teddy blinked.
"Uh… warm," he said after a moment. "Safe. Like… when granny cooks late at night. Or when the fire's on and no one's talking."
Clarisse's expression shifted, just slightly.
Chris nodded.
"Exactly."
He turned back to the others.
"So we stop looking for important places," he said. "We look for quiet ones."
Jake hesitated.
"You want us to wander until we feel something?"
"Yes," Chris said simply. "That's what Hestia is."
A long pause.
Clarisse crossed her arms, then sighed.
"…Fine."
Jake gave a reluctant nod.
"Fine."
And just like that, leadership settled—not by prophecy or strength, but by calm.
They moved away from the crowds.
Rome exhausted them.
Not the kind of exhaustion that came from battle—but the deeper, heavier kind that came from searching and finding nothing.
They had walked through ancient streets where gods were once worshipped openly. They had crossed plazas older than most kingdoms, passed temples dedicated to names that no longer answered prayers. They had stood before ruins where hearth-fires once burned in every home.
And still—nothing.
No warmth in the air.
No pull in the chest.
No quiet certainty that said this is it.
By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Teddy's feet ached, Clarisse was openly irritated, and Jake had stopped pretending his map knew what it was doing.
"This is impossible," Jake muttered, leaning against a low stone wall near a fountain. "Rome should be crawling with traces of Hestia. Every household worshipped her at some point."
Clarisse kicked a pebble across the pavement.
"Then the temple's not here."
Chris looked up sharply.
"Explain."
Clarisse gestured around them.
"Too public. Too obvious. If monsters overran it, the place wouldn't still feel normal. People would sense something was wrong, even mortals."
Teddy nodded slowly.
"It doesn't feel warm," he said. "It feels… old. Empty."
Jake closed his eyes, took a breath, and then slowly reopened his map.
The parchment shimmered faintly, lines shifting—not toward temples, but toward symbols only Hermes kids ever really understood.
His finger stopped.
"…Okay," Jake said quietly. "That's interesting."
Clarisse leaned over his shoulder.
"What?"
"There's a relay point nearby," Jake said. "A Hermes branch. Not a full station—just a local parsel service node."
Chris frowned.
"Why would Hermes set up shop here if there's nothing important?"
Jake's lips twitched.
"Exactly."
Teddy looked up at him.
"What's a parsel service?"
Jake smiled faintly.
"Think of it like divine mail, information exchange, emergency messages. If something important was moved, hidden, or erased… Hermes' people usually know."
Clarisse cracked her knuckles.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
They didn't make it far.
The air shifted—subtly at first. A pressure change Teddy felt before he heard it. His pendant grew warm against his chest, a silent warning.
"Company," Chris said calmly.
The alley ahead darkened unnaturally, shadows stretching where no light should have allowed them. From the walls, shapes peeled themselves free—too thin, too sharp, too wrong.
Three monsters emerged.
Humanoid, but barely. Their skin looked like cracked stone dusted with ash, mouths split too wide, eyes glowing like dying embers.
"Fire-eaters," Clarisse growled.
They didn't waste time.
One lunged toward Teddy.
Clarisse moved first.
She stepped in front of Teddy like a wall, spear flashing as she drove it clean through the creature's chest. It screamed—a dry, hollow sound—before collapsing into ash.
Jake was already moving, daggers appearing in his hands as he rolled beneath another monster's swipe. He slashed upward, severing its arm, then finished it with a precise strike to the neck.
Chris faced the third.
It rushed him, claws blazing with heat—but Chris met it head-on, sword humming as it cut through the creature's torso in one clean arc. The monster burst apart, scattering embers that fizzled harmlessly on the stone.
Silence returned.
Teddy stared, wide-eyed.
"…That was fast," he said.
Clarisse smirked.
"Told you. Easy."
Jake wiped his blades clean, glancing around.
"If these things are roaming nearby, it means we're getting close to something."
Chris nodded.
"Monsters don't camp randomly."
Teddy looked down at his pendant again. It was warm—but steady.
"Then let's keep going," he said quietly.
Author's Note:
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