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Chapter 71: Italian Wine.
🕑 Added 2025-05-13 21:17:21 +0000 UTC[P]-[W]-[M]
Jonathan Grey
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I would have to agree with Anakin… I don’t like sand… it gets every. At least when mining anyway. The constant collapsing after I had mined an area did its best to piss me off as much as it possibly could, and it was somewhat successful.
Even still, mining a base on Tatooine didn’t take long. While I was at it, I transmuted cubes into Beskar to create the walls, leaving room for Cortana to put in whatever tech she wanted to add. Then I sent her all the details, left her to it, and returned to the Potter Verse to enjoy the rest of the tour.
We left France and went to Italy, where we did some sightseeing, the Tower of Pisa, the Colosseum and several other places in Rome before heading to the largest magical hospital in the country the next day. It was going well too, until someone decided trying to take our lives was a good idea after I were done with the Maledictus patients, almost single-handedly ruining our day.
The sun was still out, bathing the cobbled street in warmth rarely felt in Britain as we stepped out, and I had to admit, it felt good not needing to worry about constant rain or cold. Behind me, the crowd of grateful witches and wizards slowly began to disperse, chatting between healed friends and family as they graciously waved us off while we casually made our way out.
We were a few streets away from the hospital when I felt a disturbance in the Force, a warning tipping me off to what I could only describe as potentially the worst assassination attempt in broad daylight, with multiple witnesses walking around.
Not wanting the person to embarrass themself, I shot my hand out behind me in one swift motion, tightening my fingers as the Force gripped the would-be assassin mid-lunge, halting him in the air. The man’s unhidden face contorted in shock as the rest of his body and what seemed like a poisoned dagger were frozen a mere foot from my back.
Not only was he not using magic to hit me from range, but his face was free for all to see. Honestly, before the irritation hit me, I was baffled beyond belief. Even without my skillset, the fact that both Flamels already had their wands was even more reason the man should have, at the very least, tried jumping us with friends instead. The guys who attacked us in France did a much better job, and even they sucked.
Nicolas stepped forward with a raised eyebrow, giving the man an incredulous look, more disappointed than anything. “Honestly,” he said, eyes sweeping over the immobilised man, possibly looking for more weapons on his person. “What exactly was going through your mind when you decided to stab someone in a street full of witnesses? You have magic for goodness sake, you should have used the damn thing you fool…”
He trailed off, only now sensing what I had already sensed. The man had more magic in his body than a Muggle, but not quite enough to be able to throw around spells. He was a squib, which explained the lack of wand-waving shenanigans.
Perenelle turned her head toward a cluster of Aurors I already knew had been tailing us ‘discreetly’ since the hospital. “It would be lovely if one of you could take this poor fool in for questioning,” she called over dryly, shaking her head in exasperation. Whether her exasperation was with the attacker or the Aurors' lack of skill in regard to stealth, I wouldn’t know.
One of the Aurors sent a stunner into the man’s chest as he rushed forward, allowing me to release my grip with the Force, dropping the dollar store assassin on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
“We saw the whole thing,” a man who looked like he was the lead Auror said firmly, glancing between the three of us. “We’ll take him in. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
Why he thought we would be worried about a man who would use a tactic this… mentally challenged was beyond me, but I chose not to comment on the matter. Thankfully, they didn’t make us waste our time giving statements.
“That would be much appreciated, sir,” I replied in fluent Italian, giving him a respectful nod as the Aurors conjured bindings and vanished with the unconscious man moments later. Although, I was a little disappointed I didn’t let the assassin speak. I wanted to get at least some insight into what the bloody hell was going through his head. Maybe he was paid to take my life in exchange for magic or something.
The street slowly resumed its rhythm, with the people who had been gawking at the situation slowly going back to going about their day. Even now, I could spot a few more Aurors in disguise, focusing on our movements a little more intensely than others walking around.
I failed to suppress a long and slow sigh as I shook my head. “I think that’s our cue to head to the next stop.”
Holstering his wand, Nicolas rewarded my suggestion with a light chuckle. “Not just yet, Master Grey. I believe we’ve earned a short detour.” I raised a brow, ignoring how he referred to me, having already gotten used to his ‘butler’ act. “Oh, come now. You remember the vineyard,” he continued with a grin. “They gave it to you as thanks for helping their people. Would be a shame not to visit it before we leave.”
I didn’t forget. But when a person has several briefcases enchanted to hold multiple farms of all kinds of plants, crops and animals, a free vineyard kind of loses its major appeal. Then again, it was free land with a wine business and staff, who were paid for their work for the next twelve months, already working to ‘fill my coffers’, as Nicolas had said. So, seeing no real reason to argue, I simply shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
With a smile, Perenelle reached into her robes and withdrew the sleek, wooden portkey, with the address written on its face. As I placed a hand gently on her arm, Nicolas mirrored the motion by resting his hand on her shoulder.
“Ready?” she asked, receiving nods from us both. With that, she said the activation phrase. “Vineyard.”
Then we vanished with a swirl.
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The swirl of magic faded, depositing us onto a sun-drenched hill surrounded by rows of carefully cultivated grape-bearing vines, thick with the scent of the ripe fruit, lavender, and warm earth. The vineyard stretched in neat lines down the rolling hillside, leading to a modest but elegant stone home at the edge of the estate.
“Not bad,” I muttered, glancing out over the vineyard with mild interest. I wasn’t really into using a briefcase solely for alcohol, but the initial look of the vineyard was starting to change my mind.
Perenelle closed her eyes and took in a slow breath. “It smells wonderful, doesn’t it?”
Nicolas stepped forward and extended his arms toward the land like a host unveiling a gift. “Welcome to the newly renamed Grey Vineyard. While not as good as our own, which, now that I remember, we should really visit before we leave the country, it's now yours to improve as you see fit.”
I could feel the wards constantly checking for our intent as we walked down the path toward the house, alerting a person in the home of our arrival and potential threat to the homeowner. The small manor itself was a structure clearly reinforced with enchantments, though a little aged by time, with vines curled along its columns and balconies, and large windows allowing for a constant view of the land from inside. As we approached the tall oak doors, a single elderly house-elf smoothly opened up before we could even reach to knock, bowing low.
“Welcome, Masters and Mistress,” he greeted. “Would you care for refreshments? The last bottle of moon-aged wine has been uncorked in honour of your arrival.”
“That sounds delightful, darling,” Perenelle said warmly.
“Just for the other two, sir” I added with a polite nod, though my eyes were already scanning the landscape when he nodded and popped away. “The enchantments on the land seem decent.”
Nicolas led them toward a covered stone patio overlooking the vineyard. “Yes. Low-grade ley lines run beneath it, as you could probably already tell. The enchantments are subtle. Healthy soul, pest repellants, the works. Apparently, a healer used to retreat here for a few days with their family when they were burnt out — even allowed colleagues to spend time here when he wasn’t using it. The environment helps with magical exhaustion, like Hogwarts and Bourbaton.”
While I already knew that, I let him continue his instinctual teaching behaviour. He seemed happy to impart as much knowledge as he could to whoever he deemed worthy, and I saw no reason to dampen his mood when he started..
As we took our seats on some enchanted chairs, the house-elf returned with a tray carrying two crystal glasses and a single ornate bottle filled with a silvery-red wine that seemed to glimmer in the light.
“This place might be worth keeping,” Nicolas smiled, swirling his glass after checking for poisons and appreciating the smell of the liquid before taking a sip. “The locals have taken a liking to you. There’s even talk of renaming the nearby village after you. Then again, I have no doubt I’ll be saying something similar for the other places we visit.”
I rewarded the man’s words with a quiet grunt and muttered, “Great, if a place is named after me, it just means more people will be arriving to meet me. I’m more for peace and quiet, you know that.”
The Alchemist simply snorted and took another sip. “As if a place’s title is what will stop people from coming here wanting an audience,” he shook his head. “The only reason they haven’t broken down the doors of Littletree Castle is because of your masterful wards and fear of highly muscular Dwarves with rather sharp weapons. I’m surprised they didn’t create a statue in your image, smack dab in the middle of the Bank.”
Perenelle laughed gently, setting her glass down. “They suggested it, actually,” she chimed in, gaining a smirk from her husband. “But John turned them down. So, they had to settle for wall murals of their exploits taking the land from the Vampires.”
For a long while, the three of us sat in companionable silence or just chatting about random things while we waited for the person linked to the Wards to arrive. The land was somewhat large and warded to prevent any [Apparition], even from them. An odd design, but one easily changed when it's finally passed over to me. With how little most of the magical world thinks of physical exercise, I wouldn’t be surprised if they are taking their time due to a lack of fitness.
When the caretaker got close to the manor, we decided to walk over and meet them at the entrance, opening the door to be met with a man in a sleek black suit with a professional smile plastered on his face. He had a pair of silver spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose, and a polished wand was holstered subtly at his belt. Combining his neatly combed back hair and his formal posture, I was getting law enforcement vibes.
“Ah,” he said professionally. “I suppose you finished up with the Maledictus patients already? You weren’t expected until later this evening, but it is still very good to see you.”
I blinked once, ignoring the question while I tilted my head slightly. “And you are?”
The man’s smile stretched ever so slightly, placing a hand on his chest with a slight bow. “Antoni, sir. I’m the estate steward — responsible for the day-to-day management of The Grey Vineyard. I’ve served under the previous owners and was retained by the hospital when the vineyard became one of its assets as per the previous owners' will. I’m told it now belongs to Master Grey.” He gave me a respectful nod. “If you’d allow me, I’d be glad to give you a proper tour.”
I wasn’t buying it. Even if the Force weren’t telling me he was lying, which it was, I would still think something was up. So, with that in mind, I used [Observe] on the man, completely disregarding other information it gave me.
[Antony Almeida - Wizard]
[Description: An experienced Italian Auror currently undercover as ‘Antoni’, the vineyard caretaker of The Grey Vineyard to keep an eye on Johnathan Grey and make sure there are no other attempts on his life…]
Yeah, that seemed about right. At least he wasn’t an assassin. If he had been, at least he had years of experience, so the fight that would follow might have been much more entertaining than the disappointments I had been forced to be part of recently. Cortana not included.
Perenelle smiled politely. “That would be lovely.”
“Very well then,” ‘Antoni’ said, gesturing for us to follow. “We’ll begin with the fermentation chambers — just down these corridors.”
As they followed Antoni into the main corridor, Nicolas glanced out one of the tall windows at the surrounding vineyard and hummed thoughtfully. “The place is well-built, but the warding is... too lacklustre if one intends to house family and friends here for long.”
I knew he was doing it on purpose, bringing up the wards to have them transferred over to me as soon as possible rather than leaving them in the hands of a person we had just met. And it worked, gaining a glance from our tour guide.
“Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot,” the man shook his head apologetically as he turned to me. “I will take you to the ward room to make sure they are correctly transferred to you, sir.”
“That would be great, thank you,“ I gave him a slight nod, not really minding his attempt in the slightest as my eyes flicked to the wardline in the distance. “They’ll need strengthening, and I’ll need to know all the workers involved with the work here to make sure they still have access. While I’m at it, I’ll have to remove the Anti-Apparition elements.”
‘Antoni’ glanced back with a polite smile. “The Anti-Apparition ward, while sometimes an… ‘unnecessary irritation’ as some have stated, was put in place by one of the old owners to make sure people didn’t ‘choose the quicker way around and miss the sights’. ” He spoke matter-of-factly, with audible air-quotes, but not in a manner that indicated he cared either way. At least he was doing his job correctly and just giving me the facts
Now that I thought about it, he did have a point. The view was too good, and I could already feel the annoyance I would feel, constantly hearing other people’s failed, or not even attempted, soundless [Apparition]. So, keeping that in mind, I gave him a nod of approval. “That’s a good point. I’ll just strengthen it then.”
With that, they continued down the hallway heading to the Ward Room for the transfer before the tour began.
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Italian Ministry Of Magic - Auror Department
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The stone walls of the underground holding cells were purposefully enchanted to be cold and unyielding, lit only by flickering magical sconces that cast. In one of the farthest cells, a would-be assassin sat slumped in the corner, back against the wall, wrists chained with iron and linked with his other limbs. He features were gaunt, defeated, devoid of happiness of any kind.
His fingers twitched absently, rubbing at a dark bruise on his temple. The poison-laced dagger had long been confiscated, and whatever bravado he had before had vanished under the crushing silence of isolation. Surprisingly, there had been no one to visit and question him yet, especially considering how high profile the person he tried to end. He could only assume it would be some kind of public execution, otherwise he would have been questioned by now.
He was broken from his Rumination as a creak from the cell door caught his attention, which seemed odd considering he didn’t hear any footsteps..
A pair of polished leather shoes stepped across the threshold, finally making some noise other than the cell door, echoing faint taps as the soles made contact with the stone floor. The prisoner lifted his head slowly, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at the sight of a well-dressed older man stepping inside. The stranger wore a finely tailored black suit with a silver pin shaped like a triangle with a circle and line in the middle on his lapel. His white hair was swept back, and he decided to leave his cane resting against the doorframe, unused.
“Who the hell are you?” the assassin asked with a growl, irritation masking the fear creeping into his voice as he concluded that today may be the day he would meet God.
The older man didn’t respond at first. He leaned back casually against the wall beside the door, folding his arms across his chest with the poise of someone who had all the time in the world. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and measured.
“I’ve gone by many names and titles,” he said smoothly. “But, I suppose I shall return to my original... You may call me Lord Grindelwald.”
The assassin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I may be a squib, but I know who Grindelwald is. You're not him. He’s in Nurmengard, hidden. And if he ever got out, everyone would know. It would be all over the news.”
The man claiming to be Grindelwald smiled faintly bt said nothing in regard to an escape. “Then let’s set aside names and titles, shall we? If you don’t care who I am... tell me at least this — why would you try to kill the boy? You wouldn’t by chance be working for a boy who enjoys spending time with snakes, would you?”
The assassin’s jaw clenched as he looked away for a long moment, breathing through his nose. Then, with a growl of suppressed fury, he snapped his head back toward the older man. “Because people like him, like you — your lot,” he spat. “You treat us like dirt — worse than dirt. Like we’re less than nothing just because we weren’t born with the ability to wield a wand. Like we don’t have the right to live for something we couldn’t control.”
Grindelwald’s eyes softened, just barely. A slow, sad smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. “You think I enjoyed it?” he asked quietly. “If I were in charge... I would have treated your kind with dignity. Even if not equals in power, you would have had a place. Administrative roles, essential support. Stability. Given time, the spark of magic would return to your family line. I would have never allowed for such treatment.”
The assassin said nothing, though a little confused at the manner in which the man in front of him spoke. His claim of being the Grindelwald of old was starting to sound more and more believable the more words he said. But he pushed aside those thoughts and settled with just glaring with simmering resentment.
Grindelwald sighed faintly, almost disappointed with what seemed to be the end of their conversation. “Unfortunately... you threw away your chance to be useful.”
With a practised flick of his hand, a wand slipped from a hidden sheath on his wrist and into his palm, and the last words the now wide-eyed assassin would hear were a single word whispered before he would experience a painful headache.
“Legilimens.”
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“ I don't like sand. It's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere. ”
— Anakin Skywalker.
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Hello There
Harry looked like he was in pain when Snape was using Legilimens on him, but I don’t know if that was because Snape was being his usual self or if that is the normal effect of the spell. Either way, in this fic, it will be painful depending on the level of power and finesse behind it.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC and original ideas. All credit goes to their respective owners.
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Thank you for reading.
As always, stay awesome.
Until next time, Light's out.
