Harry woke up to the familiar blue shimmer flashing softly in front of his eyes.
[You have woken up in a Comfortable Bed.]
[All HP and MP fully restored.]
He didn't even blink at it anymore.
Once upon a time, notifications startled him.
Now they were just… background noise.
Like the sun rising, or the tea the elves always left on his Slytherin nightstand.
Except this wasn't Slytherin Castle.
Harry blinked at the modest ceiling above him, the small wooden beams, the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. The entire room felt tiny — not even one-fifth the size of his chamber at Slytherin Castle. No velvet canopy. No marble tiles. No massive wardrobe.
Just a simple bed, a dresser, a small writing desk, and a cozy rug Cassandra had insisted on buying.
And Harry loved it.
He stretched, sat up, and rubbed his eyes.
He didn't need luxury.
Not when he was living as Harry Potter, not Lord Blackfyre, not Lord Slytherin, not Loki Wolfmoon.
Just… Harry.
Ever since Cassandra Vale officially became his magical guardian, things were different — safer. Simpler.
Harry now lived here at the Potter Residence, a modest two-floor townhouse in Knockturn Alley. It wasn't large, but it was warm, bright, and smelled faintly of cinnamon tea and parchment.
And more importantly:
It was safe.
Harry had insisted on staying here, not in the Slytherin Castle, for one simple reason:
"If anyone tries to drag me back to the Dursleys, they'll come looking for a small boy, not a Dark Lord in training."
Hiding in plain sight.
No one suspected Cassandra Vale — the newly promoted Auror trainee — adopting a boy.
No one suspected that the harmless, shy, sweet-faced boy sleeping in the small upstairs room…
…was the same person who burned an entire midnight auction syndicate, rode a dragon, killed Pure-blood Lords, and commanded a private fortress.
Harry slid off the bed and yawned. The floorboards creaked slightly under his feet.
The house was quiet.
Cassandra had already gone for her Auror duties. She always left early on training days, leaving a note on the kitchen table:
"Breakfast is in the warming charm. Study well. Don't blow up the house."
He walked to the mirror, straightened his messy hair, and quietly snorted.
He looked like a normal child.
A little tall and mascular. A little wild-haired.
No one would ever connect this face to the infamous Lord Blackfyre.
Exactly how he wanted it.
Harry stepped out into the hallway, hearing faint morning traffic outside. Vendors shouting. Children running. A cart rattling past.
Life was normal here.
And that was the entire point.
Harry planned for one normal day.
No spell explosions.
No secret meetings.
No midnight raids.
Just… peace.
After breakfast — toast, eggs, and tea Cassandra left in the warming charm — he curled up on the sofa with a muggle horror novel he picked up from a thrift shop. Something about a haunted mansion and a lady in white.
It felt good.
He even made it three whole pages before—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harry froze.
Please, not today.
He put a bookmark between the pages and stood up with a sigh. When he opened the door—
Jason stood there, breathing heavily, cloak askew, his usually calm expression replaced by excitement and urgency.
"Jason?" Harry blinked. "You… you know this is my day off, right?"
Jason didn't answer. Instead, he leaned in, voice low and trembling.
"Harry… the goblins are about to find the treasure of Arcanus."
Harry's horror novel slid right out of his hand and hit the floor.
Harry blinked twice.
"…the treasure of Arcanus? As in the Arcanus? The enchanter?"
Jason swallowed.
"The same. And they're only couple of weeks away from claiming it."
Harry exhaled slowly.
So much for a peaceful day.
Harry rubbed his eyes.
"So."
He closed the door behind him.
"So much for reading a horror book."
Jason smirked faintly.
"Oh, trust me, mate… this is going to be much scarier."
Harry grabbed his cloak.
"Right then. Tell me everything."
The Serpent Court gathered in the meeting room of the Slytherin Castle, the air buzzing with an energy none of them tried to hide. It had been days since their last great mission, and the moment Jason delivered the news, every pair of eyes lit up — excitement, curiosity, and that strange heroic thrill their group had begun to crave.
Jason stood at the center, arms folded, cloak still dusty from his morning run through the goblin tunnels.
"Alright," he began, "this isn't rumor. It isn't speculation. This is real. The Goblins are— according to my old contacts — a few weeks away from finding the hidden treasure."
Harry leaned forward. "The chamber of Arcanus."
A reverent silence settled over the room.
Cassia nodded slowly. "If that's true… then another part of our rich history will be buried in the depth of Gringotts."
Jason continued, his voice steady, yet filled with wonder.
"Arcanus wasn't just a Roman wizard. He was a conqueror. He built an army of enchanted metal warriors — constructs infused with spells no one has managed to replicate even in modern times. With those soldiers, he took half of Italy… then marched into neighboring lands."
Sam whistled. "All with metal soldiers? That's… terrifying."
"And brilliant," Cassia added. "It takes an insane amount of magical knowledge to control that much metal soldiers."
Jason shook his head. "That's just it — nobody knows how he did it. Before Arcanus was finally killed by his enemies, he siphoned every bit of his knowledge — spells, research, artifacts, all his secrets — into a vault. A vault he designed himself."
Harry frowned, "And buried it somewhere safe."
"Somewhere impossible," Jason corrected. "People have searched for it for centuries. Curse-breakers, dark wizards, scholars. But the goblins… they've been tracking signs for years. They finally narrowed it down. And now—"
A soft ping appeared in front of Harry.
[ Quest Updated: Echoes of Arcanus ]
New Sub-Objective Added:
Gather intelligence from Jason's Goblin contacts
Intercept Goblin expedition progress
Prepare Serpent Court for ancient magic defenses
Harry dismissed the window with a flick of his fingers.
"So," he said, "no one knows what Arcanus buried besides gold?"
Jason nodded. "Exactly. People think it might be spell books, forbidden magics, instructions for his constructs… or something worse. Something even the goblins want to keep hidden."
Regina crossed her arms. "If the goblins are this close, won't they guard the place?"
"They will," Jason admitted. "Heavily. Once they reach the main vault, no outsider will be allowed anywhere near it."
Harry gave a small smile.
"Which means we need to go before that. Before the vault opens. Before the goblins claim it."
Sam cracked his knuckles. "Then this is another rescue mission?"
Harry shook his head slowly.
"No. This is… something else."
He looked at the group, emerald eyes gleaming.
"This is a race."
Their hearts throbbed in unison — a familiar thrill.
Jason finished the briefing:
"Whatever Arcanus left behind, everyone wants it. Because no one knows what it is. Secrets like that… can shake the entire magical world."
Harry stood, cloak swaying.
"Then the Serpent Court will find it first."
Even though today was meant to be one of Harry's rare "rest days," he knew very well he wasn't going to rest.
The Serpent Court was buzzing.
Every single one of them was eager—almost trembling—with the thrill of a new adventure. And not just any adventure.
Italy.
A foreign country. A foreign magical culture. Ancient magic, curses, constructs, traps — everything a proper dungeon should have.
For the first time in his life, Harry was going to step outside Britain.
And if the treasure truly belonged to Arcanus, the man who forged enchanted metal warriors that conquered half of ancient Italy… then Harry wasn't expecting a "fair fight." He wasn't even expecting something remotely sane.
So he needed protection.
Real protection.
Armor.
Not leather scraps, not dragonhide, not borrowed pieces of metal.
A full set. His armor.
He walked through the old wooden door of Master Garrick's smithy, a place he had practically lived in during the past year. The familiar smell of molten metal, burning coal, and hot iron greeted him like a warm hand on his shoulder.
Rusty, the senior apprentice, was wiping down the counter when he noticed Harry.
"Ah, Back again?" Rusty smiled. "Thought you'd take the day off, child."
Harry shook his head. "Can't. I need to forge something big."
Rusty raised a brow. "Bigger than daggers? Bigger than swords?"
Harry stepped toward the back forge, where his tools and workspace were kept specially for him.
"A full armor set," Harry said. "Goblin steel."
Rusty froze.
"Goblin steel?" he whispered. "Blimey, kid, you don't mess around."
Harry reached into his inventory and pulled out the heap of goblin-forged metal he had taken from the goblins who once attacked him. The metal clanged onto the workbench, gleaming with a strange, deep blue shine — the kind only goblin steel possessed.
He sorted through the pieces, mentally designing how to reshape it all.
Chestplate.
Spaulders.
Gauntlets.
Greaves.
Boot covering.
Full helm.
Reinforced joints.
Rune-carved interior.
Layered enchantment channels.
If Arcanus' constructs could slice through ordinary steel, Harry wanted armor that could withstand spells, claws, fangs, and whatever ancient monstrosities waited in that buried vault.
He tied on his leather apron and strode toward the massive furnace.
"Let's begin."
He raised his hammer and brought it down on the first glowing slab of metal.
CLANG!
A burst of sparks erupted, dancing across the forge floor.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Rusty watched in awe as Harry worked with supernatural precision — hammer strikes perfectly timed, heat controlled through wandless magic, each blow shaping the goblin steel exactly how he needed.
Even Garrick himself peeked over from the far side of the room, silently observing.
And as Harry raised the hammer again, sweat dripping down his brow, his thoughts drifted back to Italy…
Arcanus.
Ancient spells.
A hidden vault that defeated thousands of treasure hunters.
This armor must be perfect.
Harry exhaled sharply, flame reflecting in his emerald eyes.
"Italian dungeon," he muttered. "Here I come."
He struck the steel again.
CLANG!
And the forge roared to life.
Harry was so deeply focused on the armor that he didn't even hear the smithy's front door creak open.
He was shaping the breastplate first — pounding goblin steel in perfect rhythm, the furnace flames flickering against his face — when the system gently flashed a notification.
[Presence Detected]
[High-tier Magical Power Nearby]
Harry frowned, lowered the glowing metal onto the anvil, and wiped his forehead before turning around.
Standing at the entrance were four figures.
Albus Dumbledore. Behind him, three strangers:
a tired-looking, shabby man trembling on the spot
a tall man with a stern face
a woman with kind eyes but a worried expression
Harry recognized none of them.
Only the shabby-looking man reacted first—his breath caught in his throat as he stared at Harry's face.
"Lily…" he whispered. "James… Merlin, it's really you… Harry…"
Dumbledore stepped forward with that same grandfatherly smile he showed everyone.
"Harry," he greeted warmly, "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. And these," he gestured behind him, "are your parents' closest friends. Frank and Alice Longbottom… and Remus Lupin."
The name made Harry pause—but only for a heartbeat.
He didn't know these people.
He didn't trust these people.
And more importantly, he did not owe them anything.
Harry straightened slowly, his hammer still in his hand, glowing with residual heat.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked calmly.
Dumbledore smiled as though the answer was obvious.
"We were worried for you, my boy. We only want to make sure you are safe. Knockturn Alley… is no place for a child."
Alice Longbottom stepped forward kindly.
"Harry sweetie, we just want to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere better. You don't have to stay here."
Harry didn't even blink.
"I'm not going anywhere with strangers."
Remus staggered forward at that — his voice cracking.
"Harry… I'm not a stranger. I was your father's best friend. I held you when you were a baby. I… I've missed you for years…"
Harry's expression didn't change.
"That may be true. That may be a lie. I don't know you. And I don't trust unfamiliar adults who show up uninvited."
Dumbledore tried again.
"Harry," he said in a soft, patient voice, "I am your magical guardian—"
"No," Harry interrupted sharply.
Dumbledore blinked.
Harry set the hammer down on the anvil, the clang echoing throughout the smithy like a boundary being drawn.
"I already have a magical guardian," Harry said, voice steady, "and I'm not recruiting any more."
Frank looked startled, Alice frowned, Remus looked crushed.
Dumbledore's smile tightened — ever so slightly.
Harry continued:
"And most importantly…" he stepped nearer, emerald eyes unblinking, "…I have a family of my own making."
The Serpent Court.
Slytherin Castle.
The house-elves.
The werewolves.
The dragon.
People who stood with him. People who bled with him.
People who trusted him.
Harry lifted his chin proudly.
"Inside the Slytherin Castle," he said quietly, "no one harms me. No one controls me. No one takes me anywhere."
Dumbledore's eyes flickered — calculating, worried, frustrated.
"Harry… be reasonable—"
"I am," Harry replied. "For the first time in my life."
And Harry, wiping the sweat from his brow, returned to his forge.
He picked up the half-finished breastplate.
The flames roared behind him.
"Leave," Harry said without looking at any of them. "I'm busy."
If you enjoy my work and would like to support me, you can now do so on . Every bit of encouragement means a lot and helps me keep creating more content.
Support me here: (Patre)on – AbinKydd