Chapter Two

They were both eager to pursue the lead, so when Harry woke up the next morning, he wasn't surprised to find Mariano already perched on the kitchen counter while eating breakfast. He was surprised to find a deep scowl on the Italian man's face.

"Don't tell me," Harry made a show of consideration, "Natale started dating a Veela and you learned that you didn't have the right equipment for her?"

He easily dodged the half-eaten bagel tossed at him, as a crooked smile crossed the brunette's face. "Perish the thought! No, Ranieri and Talbot were pulled out of the Op. Higher ups claimed that the French Ambassador absolutely must have a protection detail for the first time in over a decade."

Harry's eyebrows rose and he tapped his left ear.

"Privacy bubble around six feet radius with myself as the epicenter." The Italian Auror looked disgruntled, "You don't think…?"

"Probably." And Harry was equally annoyed, because overlooking Muggle spying equipment was such an arrogant, novice move to make. "Why keep us?"

"Controlled method of contact and/or gesture of goodwill, maybe?" Mariano's smile widened and he added brightly, "Maybe they're fans of the Man-Who-Won and want to recruit you to join their criminal organization?"

Harry's stomach was empty and his bagel was delicious, so the British Auror gave a glare that he hoped would convey the depth of his derision at that comment. "Are we staying on the case then?"

Mariano shrugged. "The drug dealers still need to be caught, even if some mafia family is trying to work a political scheme around us. Let's cover what we have now."

"Drugs are smuggled in by land from the north, held in various secret locations around Siracusa and carried out by boats on the Ionian Sea. Once they reach Greece, they're out of our purview and can be funneled directly into Eastern Europe," Harry recounted, "The operation is under the control of at least one main mafia organization, with either two auxiliary groups or semi-independent departments. Exact numbers are unknown but estimates range from seventy to two hundred and fifty people."

"While multiple types of drugs are moved, the most common are cocoa leaves and xanax of an estimated 1,500 tonnes annually," Mariano continued, "Suppliers are small, independent cultivators, resulting in differentiation of quality and consistency across packages. Buyers are located primarily in Eastern Europe, which is out of our zone. Depending on the record-keeping, we may be able to hit these guys with international charges on top of the ones they'll already have for drug smuggling."

"If we want to break this ring apart," the Italian concluded, "Then we have to destroy the middlemen here."

"Easier said than done," Harry grumbled, "We have faulty, maybe-compromised intel, minimal manpower and a mafia family that's either playing games with us or in charge of the drug operation, and quite possibly both."

"Actually, this operation is relatively small compared to most international drug-trafficking rings," Mariano corrected, "It's probably controlled by a small mafia family, in the fringe side of their society. It's unlikely that the Ministry would bother to keep in contact with such a small fry family."

"Then you think that the Ministry is in contact with at least one mafia family?" Harry questioned.

"Like I said, Ranieri and Talbot are pulling protection detail for the Ambassador," Mariano pointed out, "As though that isn't suspicious at all. No, there are multiple mafia families at work here, and we're supposed to bring the small one down, while trying not to step on the toes of the big one."

"Brokering a peace with the damned," Harry mused, "Joy."

"Eh, then it's for the best that Europe's best Aurors are on the case then, isn't it?" Mariano joked, raising his toasted bread in cheer, "To Accardi, Potter, and the diplomatic skills that neither of us have!"

A grin tugged at Harry's lips. "May we spontaneously develop tact and discretion."

x

They didn't necessarily need to, as their minimal talents in those areas were sufficient for the next step of the plan. One advantage of magic was that a wide net could be cast to gather information with minimal human support, at least if one knew the proper spells. While Harry leaned back and transfigured all of their remaining coffee beans into grey-peppered sparrows, Mariano charmed them with a bevy of spells, including notice-me-not, echoed sounds, record links and more. The links were charmed to a series of spell-checking, self-inking quills laid out on the kitchen table. They'd bought the packet just a few days ago, so there wouldn't be another Roonil Wazlib incident.

"Off you go, my pretties," Mariano cackled, making the dark-haired, British wizard roll his eyes as he threw the glass doors of the balcony open. "Fetch me my whispers! Catch me my prey!"

The sparrows burst into a cacophony of excited chittering as they all flew out of the window in a burst of white-brown feathers and hurried movement. Mariano watched them all leave with a sort of distant fatherly pride before he levitated the chaise over to the kitchen, transfigured it into a beach chair and lied down. "I'll man the papers till noon then?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed. "I'll go stake out the coffee shop."

It wasn't the most diligent of work he could've been getting up to but anything else likely wouldn't be paying dividends until they had decent intelligence to rely on. After ensuring that their mutual alarms were connected- and once again feeling amused that a witch's baby monitoring spell had become a staple in international law enforcement- Harry Potter headed out to the hallway and down the stairs. The Italian Ministry had set them up in a relatively good hotel for the area, neither too costly nor the sort where shady business deals were done. Harry had thought it a wasteful expense at first but after studying the case, admitted that its sophistication likely demanded it.

'The colors do look like those from Gryffindor though.' The yellow was more of a soft cream and the red wasn't as vivid but the overall scheme looked pleasant to the eyes and was lit brightly by many small chandeliers. The marble floors of the entrance made a soft scuffing sound against brown penny loafers as he walked by, hurrying Harry just that tad bit more past a friendly doorman and into the warm sunshine outside. 'Britain may be home but I have to give Italy its due.'

When Harry stepped into the local cafe closest to the hotel, he found that he wasn't the only one to have desired pastries and coffee today. The people here looked rather more well-dressed than its average clientele, to the point where even Harry, in a white button-down dress shirt and tan slacks, felt underdressed. While none were looking over at him specifically or had even looked up from their personal conversations when the bell rung to signal entry, the hairs rose on the back of his neck. His magic tingled minutely under his skin. Tempted as he was to either recede from the premises or call for back-up, Harry nonetheless pasted a friendly smile on his face as he walked up to the cashier.

"Good morning," he offered, in broken Italian. It was a damn deal better than his initial grasp of the language but the pretty cashier still giggled a bit before asking what he'd like. "May I have an espresso macchiato and a panino?"

"To go or to stay?" Harry hesitated, tapped his wrist against his hip twice, where the invisible alarm stood as a signal for potential conflict, and then answered. He was nothing if not a Gryffindor. "Stay, please."

His post-breakfast snack received, the dark-haired wizard turned to survey the room. If he'd had any doubts about this being pre-arranged, they were dispelled when he saw that every seat in the room was taken. Every single one, from the stools on the bar to the delicate, iron-wrought tables outside to the booths here. Well, almost every seat. There was one conveniently left open for him.

Harry headed over to the booth, mentally sending appreciative points to whomever arranged this little rendezvous. The brunette across the only empty chair had her bowed head bathed in a halo of light from the wide bay windows. As cliche as it was, it did seem to add an angelic glow to her appearance and when Harry pointedly cleared his throat, the owlishly blinking amber eyes looking up at him almost looked like blazing orange stars. A moment later, the illusion was dispelled as the amber returned and a puzzled expression crossed the young woman's face.

"Yes?" She cocked her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. Harry was impressed. Truly masterful acting to establish such an innocence right off the bat. "Is there anything you need, Sir?"

"May I sit here? All of the other chairs are taken." By your people, he did not add. The sentiment may have struck her anyway, as the woman looked around and flushed a deep red. She nodded gracefully and he sat down, quietly appreciating the view. Sure, a criminal organization had set this up- likely to warn him from pursuing the case- but at least an attractive mafioso was sent. Though with her milky pale skin, waifish figure and downright adorable snub nose, she didn't strike him as intimidating.

"I'm sorry for that. My friends can be a little overprotective." A fond smile crossed the woman's face. Harry took a moment to parse the meaning- Mariano spoke slowly in Italian and English the remainder of the time, so he didn't have the fluency that this woman's quick grasp of the language necessitated- before nodding.

"May we speak English?" Harry inquired. He'd rather not establish himself on a lower footing at the onset but it'd be worse to lose valuable subtext because of his limited grasp. The woman looked briefly startled but nodded easily. The plate in front of her was covered with many scoops of colorful gelato despite the early hour of the day. She caught his gaze towards it and half-shrugged.

"My bribe for being here," was the answer in barely-accented English. "I'm Tsuna."

"Harry." His name was common enough to get away with that though he couldn't hide his surprise at her foreign one. The mafia was normally quite insular.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry." His bullshit detector, finely honed from years of Weasley related pranks, screamed otherwise. "How are you liking Italy, so far?"

"It's fine," he answered shortly. Were they really going to do the same song and dance that he'd engaged in with the men from the fire yesterday? "Great weather, great food, great people. It was a shame that there was a fire on this street yesterday."

"Oh, absolutely!" To his even greater surprise, the brunette appeared sincere about that. "Madam Benenati makes the best rolls this side of the West. I'm glad she managed to survive the fire without too many injuries."

The dark-haired wizard offered a small hum of assent, not contributing anything more. He'd prefer to get this business out of the way quickly, so he could leave and enjoy his meal in peace. As it was, keeping one eye on the mafioso girl, the other on those men behind her, extending his magical senses over to get a general impression of his periphery and keeping his ears alert to any conversation, made it impossible to lightheartedly snack on his panino.

"So…" Tsuna drew off awkwardly. "Do you like children?"

Not shortly before the words were out did she flush a verdant crimson, while Harry heroically didn't die byway of toasted, buttered bread. What the hell kind of warning was that supposed to be?

'Dear Merlin, please don't have her threaten to cut off my balls next.'

It'd be an effective threat but that was cruel and unusual even by underground criminal standards.

Tsuna thankfully didn't follow that route but only because her following words were even more distressing. "I apologize for alarming you but you did know of my requirements before accepting, yes?"

'Requirements? Children?' Harry was starting to get the bad feeling that this wasn't a mafia warning. "Not to sound strange or anything but what exactly are we doing here?"

Amber eyes gazed at him steadily. "This is the initial meeting," was the slow answer. "To gauge compatibility. Before a marriage alliance."

"Right…" A sweat broke out on Harry's forehead. His eyes flicked over the well-dressed men sitting around them, suddenly aware that many, while not overtly muscular, looked fit enough. Tall, slim, runner's builds… they could be duelists. He hadn't walked into a mafia meeting at all. This was quite possibly a trap set up by a fangirl or, more likely considering the puzzled expression on the girl's face, a Pureblood father wanting to get his hands on the Man-Who-Won.

Harry abruptly stood up, coffee almost spilling from his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm gay. My boyfriend- Draco Malfoy, nice guy, he's in Britain now- really wouldn't approve of any of this. Please excuse me."

And thus, did Harry Potter turn and beat a hasty retreat.

x

Not a return to this story but I had the chapter half-written already, so why not post it?