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Disclaimer: If you recognise it, surprise, I don't own it.
Chapter 112- The Arcane.
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After that enchanting and dangerous meeting on the beach (well, I call it a meeting, but it's more of a sighting), I couldn't be bothered with finding some young thing to fulfil my urges. No, I had something new and intriguing pulling me in, and while relaxing was fun, it was overrated. I need something to do, and what the Arcane is seems like it will serve that purpose. So, of course, the first order of business was to start questioning people about it. I started with the business owners and residents who have obviously been here a long time. They will know, especially if a random bartender did.
Of course, I am not dumb... at least, not as much as I used to be. I wasn't going to just rush into this with no precautions, especially after what the bartender said to me. Death and misery? Yeah, I wanted to avoid that. So, in preparation, I made sure to thoroughly firm up my mind defences and bring them back to peak efficiency; I also went out to a casting range. Yeah, it's like a shooting range, but for the Wizards, Italy was so progressive. After making sure I wasn't too rusty and could actually hit a target, I set out.
Not as Gilderoy Lockhart, obviously. If things did end up going bad, then I wanted to retain the option of running away back to England and no one being able to follow me back there. I'd love to just use a polyjuice potion and change my face and maybe even bring back Edward N Stick, but the hairs for that face are back in England. Also, I don't have polyjuice potion, and I would have to buy it here. And I'd rather not do that as that can be traced back to me, so I've settled for just using illusions to disguise myself and maybe a bit of mind magic if people get wise.
In the end, though, it didn't really matter. Everybody was tight-lipped no matter what was offered, and I got so fed up that I offered up a lot. Yet no one talked; in fact, they did talk, just not to me. Eventually, I noticed so many people showing up and trying to follow me; they were dressed in black suits and fedoras, and some of them accessorised with sunglasses, leather gloves and cigarettes. I don't know how a cigarette was an accessory, but these Italians made it one. Of course, I was easily able to get away and revert back to my normal look. In fact, I was pretty tired, and after a whole day, I felt I had accomplished nothing when I came upon a bookshop. I decided to go in and see if I could go home with some reading, so at least I would have got a new spell by the time I got to bed.
The shop was ancient— seemingly older than the town itself if the scent of dust intertwined with a hint of magic and the absolutely broken-down appearance was any indication. That is what drew me to the place. I've passed other bookstores, but they just seemed like regular, run-of-the-mill tourist spots. However, this place was different. Its weathered wooden sign creaked ominously in the salty breeze, the faded letters of a language I didn't know barely visible as they struggled to hold onto their identity, each stroke eroded by relentless sea winds and the unending passage of time. I pushed open the heavy door, the hinges groaning as if reluctant to reveal the secrets within. As I stepped inside, the sound of my boots echoed eerily against the floorboards, which protested beneath my weight, adding to the shop's sombre atmosphere.
A rich tapestry of aromas enveloped me. The musty scent of aged parchment mingled with the earthy fragrance of dried herbs layered on top of something metallic that hinted at long-buried secrets best left undisturbed. Definitely not an ordinary bookstore like I initially thought; it seems more like a shop with all sorts of antiques and oddities. Dim flickers of candlelight danced from ornate sconces mounted haphazardly on the walls, casting restless shadows that turned the shop's cluttered shelves into a mysterious labyrinth. Each shelf was a chaotic display of relics, books, scrolls, and artefacts, their purposes lost in obscurity. They beckoned to me, invoking speculation and curiosity yet evoking a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air. Note to self, don't touch anything because it might be my last touch.
Behind the counter, a man sat hunched over a tome. He was pouring over a colossal book that looked as if it had been exhumed from the depths of history itself. Its spine was cracked and weary, a testament to the countless whispered secrets it contained. The Shopkeeper's robes, although simple, were tattered at the edges, suggesting many years of service and perhaps uncleanliness. There were stains, and I could smell a slight stench. In contrast to his lacklustre robes, he had a silver amulet that glinted faintly around his neck as he looked up. His face, thin and lined, was carved with years of wisdom and burdens, but it was his eyes that captured my attention—dark and knowing, they widened in recognition as they locked onto mine.
"Gilderoy Lockhart," he uttered, his voice raspy and textured, like pages rustling in a long-forgotten library. "I had a feeling you would come." I froze, confusion and a slight bit of fright flooding my senses, and I made sure to be ready, able to pull my wand out at a moment's notice. "You know me?" I asked, now regretting going back to my normal face and forgoing my disguise. I had enjoyed a decent degree of anonymity in my time here, with only a few fans noticing me. The fact this man said he was expecting me was what worried me the most. Had I poked the hornet's nest with my questioning around town?
The Shopkeeper closed the tome with a deliberate thud, the sound resonating in the quiet like a warning bell. "Only by reputation." Which I took to mean that he knew of me, my books and my adventures. He probably saw me around town at some point and knew I was around, or there is something else going on here, but I'd rather not get too existential right now. He gestured toward the vacant space in front of the counter, an invitation woven with threads of caution. "Come. You must listen carefully." He said, his voice calm, yet he seemed to be in a bit of a rush.
An unsettling urgency radiated from him, sending shivers down my spine. Hesitant yet compelled, I stepped closer, one hand resting against the counter's worn surface, smooth yet marred by stories untold. My other hand was down below, out of sight, with my wand now out, ready to start slinging spells should the need arise, "What is this about?" As much as I was cautious and on edge about this old guy starting this conversation with me out of the blue, I was also intrigued, and I also had a bit of relief flowing through me. This is the first person willing to talk to me, presumably about sensitive things, whilst all the others blew me off.
He exhaled slowly as if searching for the right words amid a tumult of thoughts. "The D'Arcana Clan," he said, the name laced with a chill that seemed to cast a shadow over the room. As soon as the words left his mouth, I had a sudden realisation. The old man spoke in fluent English, accent and all, and with that, the words made sense to me. What I have been hearing all this time has been in an Italian accent, and I've been hearing the arcane when, in actual fact, it was D'Arcana. "You've heard of them?" The question hung heavily in the air, eliciting a sense of dread. I shook my head in the negative because I really knew nothing except warnings to stay away.
The man nodded, and he decided to expand my knowledge of this D'Arcana clan. "A mafia family—wealthy, powerful, and dangerous." Hmm, a mafia family? Well, in Italy, I suppose that makes sense. When you think about it, it's no different than an ordinary pureblood family. Except, this clan probably runs everything around here, and being a mafia family, they probably employ a lot of muscle. "Okay, a mafia wizard family. What does that have to do with me?" I questioned because this guy was very much acting like I should have known them, and I didn't.
"Vampires," he corrected, his tone sharp, slicing through the confusion. "And not just any vampires. Their bloodline is ancient, deeply entwined with the tides and the moon itself. Their influence extends far beyond Positano, beyond the Amalfi Coast. But it is here—" he tapped a finger against the counter, sending a tremor through me—"that their destiny lies. A destiny most dark." Well, that doesn't sound good, does it? Not good at all, which means either I should stop it if it turns out easy to do, or I should get the hell out of Italy.
My stomach twisted as his words painted a picture more unsettling than I had anticipated, and I felt hesitant about what to do going further, whether to intervene or leave. I need more information. "What do they want?" His eyes darkened, brimming with unspoken fears. "The Lunar Heart." The name hung in the air like a spectre, igniting an unfamiliar pulse of energy that vibrated through the very walls of the shop as if it were alive and aware. The moment was suffused with a mystical weight, leaving me feeling both intrigued and disoriented. The Lunar Heart? It definitely sounds powerful; something to do with the moon and a heart? Maybe it is the heart of an ancient Mooncalf or something.
"What is the Lunar Heart?" If I am honest, the thing sounds powerful, so even if there is danger lurking, I might risk it. I am a man controlled by my vices, and right now, that is greed, and I am avaricious. If things look like they might work out, then I could be convinced to stick around and maybe take this heart for myself. "Surely you have heard whispers about it before—an artefact of immense power, capable of controlling the tides and bending the very phases of the moon to the will of its possessor. A relic so ancient and perilous that its existence was buried beneath layers of myth and cautionary tales that warned against its allure. It is a myth in these lands." The old man, whose name I still do not know, says with the utmost seriousness.
"You know what it is, don't you?" the Shopkeeper pressed, his gaze unwavering, searching for truth amid my swirling thoughts. Unfortunately for him, I am very much not the man he has been waiting for, and he has been led astray by my books because I don't know shit, and I don't know if I can stop this clan. Nevertheless, I won't let him know that, and so I nodded slowly, acting as if reality was dawning on me like a distant storm. "A magical artefact. A dangerously powerful one. Definitely something the D'Arcana clan shouldn't get their hands on." I say, selling it perfectly. Honestly, I should be an actor, but there is no magic involved in that, so what would be the point.
He scoffed lightly, a bitter note in his voice, which made the air thick with foreboding. "Dangerous is an understatement. The Lunar Heart doesn't merely command the tides—it dictates the very balance of magic itself. The D'Arcana believe it is their birthright." My mind spun with the implications of his words, confusion mingling with apprehension. So it commands the phases of the moon and the tides, which seems really powerful, but somehow that means it also controls the balance of magic as well." I nod along, even though inside, I feel what he is saying is too magical, especially for this magical world.
What the hell does that mean? Is magic itself originating from something involving the moon and the sea? The only thing that springs to mind is the legend of Atlantis, but I'm sure that isn't real. Aquaman isn't real. "It's real, then. The Lunar Heart is not a myth. It is an actual artefact capable of what you say, and the D'Aracana nearly have it?" I have to question the old man again, just to make sure. If this thing is an actuality, some sort of symbolic shit about the journey there or something, I'd rather not bother.
"As real as the sea crashing beyond that door," the Shopkeeper murmured, the low timbre of his voice dripping with gravity. "And just as treacherous." An unsettling sense of doom settled around me like an unwelcome shroud. If the Lunar Heart truly existed—and if it does indeed do what it is supposed to and if the D'Arcana Clan truly was relentlessly pursuing it—then whatever tenuous peace I had hoped for during my life in this world was already slipping through my fingers, eluding me like a phantom. There is no Harry around to stop this evil, so should I just let it go and hope it works out? No, I can't. I can't rely on middling hope that things will work out. That isn't what happened at Hogwarts, and it isn't going to happen here.
The Shopkeeper leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with urgency, now a hushed whisper. "They are already searching, Lockhart. They have been for centuries. And they are close—too close for comfort." I clenched my jaw, indignation rising within me at the hope this guy has in his eyes. He clearly expects me to stop them, but if they have been trying for centuries, "Then why hasn't anyone stopped them?" His expression darkened, shadows shifting across his face like the fleeting moments of twilight. "Because no one dares to stand in their way." Oh, okay then... Like fuck! If they are too powerful to be stopped, then why are you trying to get me to stop them? I am just a lone wizard. Why don't you go to Dumbledore or someone? Is my reputation just that good?
The weight of his words bore down on me, enveloping my mind in a fog of disbelief. The D'Arcana weren't merely a mafia family; they were a sinister dynasty, deeply interwoven into the very fabric of this land. They moved like shadows in the night—charming, powerful, and utterly ruthless. And suddenly, I am expected to oppose them. The Shopkeeper took a sharp breath as though he were bracing himself for the storm. "You must leave." I frowned, confusion creeping back in like a cold tide. You just laid a little bit of the mystery at my feet and dropped a massive problem at my feet, and then you are telling me to get out. It doesn't work that way; I'm not on Tinder, you can just fuck me and leave. "What?" I say in disbelief, unable to believe this old guy.
"Leave Positano," he urged, his voice tinged with desperation. "Go back to wherever it is you came from. The moment they hear your name, they will come for you. They do not tolerate interference." Wait, you're telling me to leave now? What the fuck!? Do you think I can't handle it? Fuck that, I can take those fang fuckers on! My instincts were screaming at me to heed his warning. To relinquish this woven web of fate, to turn on my heel and erase my existence from this town and its shadows. But deep down, I already knew I wouldn't. This guy thinks I can't fucking do it, and that pisses me off. So I'll do it.
I had faced darkness before, and I could feel its presence now, thick and ominous, just outside my awareness, waiting for the right moment to strike. And I was going to grab a hold of that darkness and make it my bitch. I was going to annihilate this shitty D'Arcana clan down to the last man, and then I was going to get my hands on this artefact, the Lunar Heart. Once it is in my hand, I'd come back here and shove it in this old goat's stupid face, and then I'd drown this whole town under the ocean... okay, maybe not that last one, but definitely the rest of it.
The Shopkeeper recognised the defiance in my eyes, and a curse slipped past his lips, laced with trepidation. "You don't understand," he said, his voice trembling with urgency. "Lucian D'Arcana is not a man you can fight. He is patient and methodical; he does not make mistakes. And his daughter—" He paused, pressing a hand against his temple as if fighting off an invisible pain. "Selene is something else entirely. If they obtain the Lunar Heart, there will be no stopping them." He sighs as if condemned to his fate. This old guy is so annoying.
I met his gaze, determination burning in my chest, stoking the fires of defiance. "I'm not leaving. You can't make me." The Shopkeeper sighed heavily, a mournful sound that echoed the weight of my choice. "Then, Gilderoy Lockhart," he said quietly, "you had best be ready." And that was the last thing he said to me as I suddenly felt the air whoosh around me. Then, I was in an alleyway, and the shop and the old man were gone. Confused, I moved to get back to a safe space, my hotel.
As I stepped back out onto the bustling streets of Positano, I noticed the shop across the way and moved to enter it again; the bell above the shop door chimed softly, an eerie sound that seemed to linger in my ears. I stepped in, and the place was completely empty. Nothing was here. Freaked out, I quickly left. The sky retained its brilliant hues, the sun still casting warm light on the cobblestone pathways—but something was different now. The air felt thick, heavy with scrutiny as if the world itself were holding its breath. The waves crashed harder against the cliffs, their roars resonating with my own turmoil, while the wind whispered secrets I couldn't decipher, an omen of the darkness that loomed just beyond my sight.
I understood then that my intended retreat was already a distant dream, and somewhere, in the shadows of the Amalfi Coast, the D'Arcana were lurking, poised and waiting for their moment to entangle me in the intricate web of their dark ambitions.
But fuck that old guy who thinks I should leave, I'm gonna stay.
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A Vampire mafia family? An ancient artefact? Yeah, we are ramping straight up into dangerous territory.
I'm currently rereading through Amarillo's Pirate Adventure so I can start writing it again, and I am actually enjoying it. I know there's a trope where people just don't like their own work, but I like mine so far. Does that mean there's something wrong with me or my work? I'm not gonna question it because I think it's good. I would not write it if I didn't.
Also, I'm gonna try and get another chap out in a few days and increase the upload rate, but I say shit like that all the time, so take it with a grain of salt. I am so inconsistent lately that I find it hard to believe I was uploading three fics consistently at one point.
Upcoming Chapters:
Hero: Chapter 113- Knives and Fire.
Super: Chapter 115- Horrible History.
Legendary: Chapter 117-A Meeting Beneath The Streets.
Galactic: Chapter 121- Untrustworthy.
Mythic: Chapter 122- Allergic To Blood?
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That is all for now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I will see you in the next one!
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