Northern Italy had some beautiful castles. Considering the fact that muggles built them up on precarious mountain tops with no magic to help them, Harry made sure to appreciate each one he happened across. Tomorrow, he'll visit the Arcane Academia to meet up their local Defense Master expert. But afterwards, Harry smiled. He deliberately set aside enough time to travel down to the southern part of Italy for sightseeing.

It's so refreshing to have the time for some relaxation without a death threat hanging over his head.

(In retrospect, Harry really should've known better. He doesn't regret anything, but he knew his luck was not to be underestimated.)

The first hint of trouble didn't show up until he was in San Marino. The city was exquisitely picturesque, and the locals were benignly tolerant of his language barrier. Some could speak English, others worked just fine with Harry's awkward pantomimes.

But a few days in, there was a small shift in the population. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the way the locals looked at him had an edge to it. It wasn't malicious, Harry was good at spotting that kind of scrutiny. But something was wrong.

He was perusing some preserves (sending things back to Mrs. Weasley periodically has proven to be a wise choice in the long run. Happy mother, less fussing) while a wizened lady calmly and surely put every single interrogator Harry has ever known to shame.

Thankfully what she wanted to know wasn't anything that made Harry want to flee, though she did make him sputter a few times when questioning his love life.

He should have left that afternoon, Harry decided, staring down the barrel of the gun. It's not often that he gets so many blatant warnings that Potter Luck was rearing its head. But he was almost certain that he was being held up by Mafia (or was that the Mob? No, that's American). Unless there is some other well dressed armed Italians that 'suggest' that you do what they say or else.

Harry just couldn't think of why these muggles would target him. They're not even asking for his money!

He eyed his surroundings, there was an excessive amount of well dressed men loitering about. If they were wizards, it was understandable. He had a reputation.

Now, how to bring down the force that rep on these men without breaking the Statute?

_o0O0o_

Everything was on fire.

Which... is not exactly the ideal state of things in general. Harry wasn't expecting for his incendio to work so well. Or for the criminals to react like that to fire. He quickly spelled a locked door open and darted into a well maintained garden that bordered a forested area for Harry to aim towards. Thank Merlin for apparition.

That… That was going on the list of 'I'm never going to tell anybody what happened'.

It's not a cut and dried list, Hermione and Ron were uncannily good at rooting out the stuff he wants hidden.

But allowing himself to be captured by mafia muggles only to summon up a swarm of biting insects and fire when they weren't looking in order to sow chaos and escape… Harry honestly forgot that most Italians were Catholics and had issues with plagues.

Perhaps moving farther south at a faster pace than previously planned would be a good idea.

_o0O0o_

Harry loved magical post. All he needed was a name, and a letter could be sent to the right person regardless of where they are. (One day, he'll finally get another owl. But Hedwig's death still lingers with him, and he hasn't found one that was right for him)

Magical post is especially useful now, since he didn't pick up Lal's address from Zinovia when he had the chance. Poor foresight on his part, he was a little distracted by shooting at her beleaguered students.

It would be nice to meet a friendly, even if unknown, face in the sprawling foreign city. Hopefully Lal will write back before he leaves the country.

_o0O0o_

With the use of the cell phone and email becoming more and more useful, Lal's mail runs had turn more into bill and junk collection day. And even that tends to build up into a precarious pile before she sorts through it. At work she's the picture of efficiency, at home. Well. She spent more time at work anyway.

She gave each envelope a disinterested cursory glance as she sorted them into the trash or into her bill section. Lal automatically tossed a parchment envelope in the trash can before the odd texture registered in her mind.

Plucking the envelope from the trash can, she raised an eyebrow when she saw that her name was actually handwritten instead of typed, and her address wasn't even on it. Just her name.

She narrowed her eyes. Suspicious.

Lal carefully checked it for traps and Mist shenanigans. Finding none, she cautiously flipped it open and squinted at the short note.

Whoever wrote this had appalling handwriting.

Dear Lal Mirch,

Hello, my name is Harry Potter. I'm a private defense teacher for gifted school children, and I'm currently on sabbatical creating contacts with other defense instructors of various backgrounds. I've heard some good things from Zinovia, the practice of using paintball guns is inspired. And devious.

If you have the time, I'll be in southern Italy by the end of the month. If you're interested, it would be nice to meet up and have a chat.

Yours Sincerely,

Harry J. Potter

Lal looked at the letter skeptically. It felt naive and innocent, but there was no way that she was going to commit to such a meeting without researching the hell out of this Potter.

What kind of paper trail was this?

Born in Godric Hollow, Whales, disappeared only to show up in the education system in Surrey, London at five with no Guardian transference papers, only to vanish again after he hit eleven. At one point he was registered as a terrorist, but was proven to be falsely accused by a corrupt government official that was impossible to track down.

There was a flimsy certificate that declared him a professor, but there were no college transcripts or teaching degree.

That was on the civilian side.

Harry Potter also popped up on the Mafia's new info of up and coming Flame Users.

As a Sky.

The information was really new, barely in the water.

Lal would have set someone to watch him regardless, and here he was reaching out to her specifically.

Trap or Coincidence?

Could she even pass up on this opportunity?

One last check before she made any serious thought to commitment. Lal was sure that she had Zinovia's number stashed away somewhere.

_o0O0o_

Harry was enjoying Sicily more that Italy at the moment. Between the mafia run-in in San Marino and that bit of awkwardness of the Holy City of Rome.

Harry wasn't expecting that priest to react that way, he promised.

Or for that building's support structure to be that weak.

Or for what happened to that one creepy guy who kept following him around like Harry was catnip.

Harry is never going back.

Florence was nice, though.

And Sicily was looking to be less of a 'and we may never speak of this again' experience.

Harry has far, far too many of those.

Taormina wasn't the biggest city on the island, but Harry was quickly falling in love with it. Maybe he could retire here. Or, if he could ever talk himself into spending the money, buy a summer home. It had just the right amount of sky and sea, being built on top of a mountain with red tiled roofs flowing down to meet the water. Flowering balconies, brightly colored pottery and murals, quick smiles, and the jovial atmosphere made Harry feel the tension ease out of his shoulders.

A small, tawny owl fluttered up to Harry, prompting him to hold his arm as a roost.

"Do you have some time for some food and water?" He asked politely as he accepted the envelope. The owl ruffled its wings in a negative and flew off, leaving Harry to eye his letter curiously. He waved his wand over it, checking for any traps and deadly paraphernalia, but it came up clean.

Harry glanced at the front and noted that it came from the Muggle-to-Wizard post office before opening it. He made a small hum of surprised delight, Lal Mirch actually got back to him, Harry wasn't sure if his letter would have encouraged her to meet, but it looked like he'll get to talk shop with someone with a professional soldier's perspective.

"Mr. Potter,

That is acceptable, I can meet at the Timoleone Cafe at 3pm on the 27th.

Don't be late.

-Mirch"

Well, that was rather brusque.

Either that, or she was a naturally terrible at letter writing.

… Wait. How did she know which city he was currently in?

_o0O0o_

"Well. A neutral civilian Sky wandering in Vongola territory. How interesting." A cane tapped as its bearer considered the information. "Young Tsunayoshi is clearly too busy with the Cervello problem to properly attend to this young man quite yet. It won't hurt to… Scout ahead for a bit. Lay some ground rules."

A calculating smile emerged from under a grey mustache.

"After all, nobody fears an old man. Coyote, please gather everyone up. We're going on a little outing."

_o0O0o_

Sorry for taking so long, RL sucker punched me. And it's been taking boxing lessons.
I've dithered over this chapter for a stupidly long time, but it looks like the flame bonding is just going to have to wait until next chapter. So I'm just going to throw this out there.
Hope you guys it!