HP: A Magical Journey

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Quinn sat in an elaborately decorated lounge inside Palazzo Abate, sipping on a delightful strawberry cream soda. He was sitting across Dolion Abate, who had a slight smile on his face the entire time.

"So, Dolion," started Quinn, "I don't know much about the Abates other than that my mother was from the family.. I was quite impressed by the door system through which I arrived at the estate Dolion Abate — Mr. Thorn tells me that Abates have it spread throughout the country."

"It's one of our family's greatest accomplishments," said Dolion, "it took time, decades to slowly and carefully build the gates into the very essence of Italy — till this date, our family makes sure that the Abate gateway is properly maintained and when needed, new doors are added."

Dolion paused for a second before continuing, "You know that Aria was my sister, right."

Quinn nodded. "When I heard that you were the patriarch's son, I clued things together. My mother was the oldest daughter; as such, your older sister. . . . that makes you my uncle."

"That's right, but you don't have to call me that," said Dolion; a faraway look appeared in his eye, "she was my favorite sibling, you know. Aria was the only one who played with me when I was little and was the only sibling to write to me when I was at Salem."

"She sounds like a sweetheart."

"She was an angel, the best of our family," said Dolion, nodding, "you never knew her, did you? If I'm correct, you were. . ."

"I was barely one."

"I'm sorry to bring that up. It must be painful for you. . . ."

Quinn lightly shook his head, "It's alright. I don't remember my parents." He then again sipped on his beverage and began looking at the symmetry in the interior.

Dolion gazed at Quinn. He didn't like his dear late sister's son that much — not since he had found that he could use Legilimency.

Legilimens — they were scarce even in the world of mind magic practitioners. For every hundred Occlumens, there was one Legilimens. Even among those who were able to enter the world of Legilimency, only a very few were able to get past browsing an unprotected non-magical mind.

Dolion knew that Quinn West would undoubtedly be trained in Occlumency as his sister, Lia was, and as was every child of old families. But never would he have thought that Quinn would be a Legilimens and. . . .

'He has trained in it,' he thought. The sense he had got was strong — it was too strong for it to belong to an untrained Legilimens. 'This could be a problem,' he thought.

"How's your family doing?" asked Dolion.

"They're quite alright, all of them. Though I would say they work a bit too much — they need to find a good work-life balance."

"The Wests have been thriving, which means that their hard work is paying off."

"What can I say; the business is in good hands." Quinn set down the empty glass down and gazed at Aksel sitting in the far corner of the lounge before speaking to Dolion, "Are we waiting for someone? If not, I would like to move on with the day — Rome is a beautiful city, and I would like to see what it has to offer."

Dolion felt pride about Quinn being so excited about seeing his hometown but didn't know how to think about Quinn wanting to leave Palazzo Abate so soon after his arrival. But before he could say something, the door to the lounge opened, and an old man dressed in traditional robes entered. He had a cane in his hand, but other than that, he looked healthy for an old man.

"Buon Giorno(Good morning)," said the old man to particularly no one as if it was a habit.

'He must be really old. He's clearly much older than grandfather,' thought Quinn.

Dolion stood up and greeted the old man back.

Quinn wondered if he should get up too. When he looked to the other side, he saw that even Aksel had stood up. He looked back towards the old man and Dolion to see that the old man was staring right towards him.

'I guess I should get up,' he thought. He stood up and walked towards the old man. "You must be Brio Abate," said Quinn.

"I'm your grandfather," said the old man — Brio Abate.

"Technically. . . biologically." This man was his late mother's father and the head/patriarch of the Abater family.

"You're my grandson."

"As I said, biologic—"

The old Brio suddenly grabbed Quinn by the back of his nape and performed with a zealous double cheek kiss. Quinn's instincts almost made him snap the man's hands, but his reason reminded him of Brio's identity and age.

"You're my grandson," said Brio matter-of-factly.

"Okay, if you say so."

Brio looked Quinn up and down, taking him in, "You've grown quite a lot. The last time I saw you were but an infant." It was before Quinn's parent's death. "You have grown up to become quite a fine boy. I have heard about you. . . . your work, last year at your school, was mighty impressive."

"It was, wasn't it?" smiled Quinn, but all he could think was when Brio would remove is his hands from the back of his nape.

"You're still wet behind your ear and already doing so well. The future of Wests is bright," said Brio, finally letting Quinn go.

"My sister is the future of the Wests," said Quinn, "I'm just having fun at school."

"Rubbish."

"If rubbish means superb, excellent, outstanding, then sure, it's rubbish."

"A girl can't handle an empire as big as that of Wests."

"Lia can; she can handle it better than my grandfather. . . . better than my father ever did. . . . and most definitely better than me."

The young and old stared at each other. Neither was willing to back down from their beliefs.

"I do not agree with you, boy. But I like you — family is more valuable than anything else," said Brio.

"I also disagree with you; I've no opinion of you yet; but, I do agree that family is important," replied Quinn.

Dolion decided to interject into the conversation and spoke, "Quinn said he wants to go around Rome to see the sights and the people. . . ."

"Of course, the boy can go where ever he wants," laughed Brio, "but not before we have lunch together. everyone wants to meet him."

"Alright, let's have lunch," smiled Quinn.

As they were about to exit the lounge, Quinn felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Aksel, who leaned in close and whispered, "We will go out after five in the evening."

"We don't have to wait that long," said Quinn, "we can wrap the lunch up quick and go for the rest of the day."

Aksel stared at Quinn for a second before speaking up, "You obviously don't know much about Italian meals."

"What?"

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- (Scene Break) -

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It turned out that when a large number of Italians gathered, especially if it was a family gathering, the meal went on for long, for a very long time.

"You were wrong," whispered Quinn into Aksel's ear.

The bodyguard leaned in and whispered back, "What do you mean?"

"As things are going, we're not going to leave here by five."

"They are just excited to meet you."

"That's an understatement," said Quinn looking at the sheer amount of people sharing the long dining table with him.

Suddenly a heavily Italian-accented English called out to him. Quinn turned to see a beautifully dressed middle-aged lady with a very homely feel standing beside him with a plate.

"Quinn dear, you should eat more. Here have some more," she said, replacing his empty plate with another one. On it was another serving of the main course — Agnello A Scottadito, which was grilled lamb ribs in English.

"Don't mind if I do," smiled Quinn and dug in. Only the people close to him knew how much Quinn ate — his appetite was unusually large for someone of his size. His daily magic usage made it so that he needed to eat a lot to replenish the energy he had spent.

The lady was happy with Quinn digging into the food. But then she gasped and giggled when a pair of hands circled around her waist.

"The boy appreciates good food," said the man to whom the hands belonged; his voice contained boisterous laughter. He was a tall man with a portly belly; his brown hair were swept slick back. He wore a printed shirt, with the top few buttons open, clearly displaying his hairy chest.

The man was Cesare Abate, the oldest son of Brio Abate, and the homely lady was Bianca Abate, Cesare's wife.

Brio Abate and his wife Francesca had five children — three boys and two girls. This family line was the main family with Cesare set up to inherit the patriarch position after Brio abdicated his seat. Besides Brio's sons' and their family, a few other non-mainline Abates lived in the Palazzo Abate.

And Quinn had to say despite his initial intention of not being cooperative with the family, he found most of the Abate family charming and jolly people. If he ignored the family's clear patriarchal structure, the Abate family was just one big joint family.

"So Quinn, what are you planning to do with your time here?" asked Cesare.

"First of all, I'm going to the Colosseum, St. Peter's Basilica, Castel Sant'Angelo, Ponte Sant'Angelo, Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, and other sites," said Quinn stating his plans. "And, I'm planning to see if the Greek and Roman divinity were simply figments of imaginations, or if they were real magicals turned legends, or perhaps if they by off-chance were real divinity."

"Ah, I have heard about your liking to magic," said Cesare before he wiggled his brows, "how about we do some more fun things, what do you say— Ouch!" he turned back to see Bianca standing there with her wand in hand glaring at him.

"Ease it, woman!" She had just shot well placed a pinching hex at him.

Biana humphed before walking away.

"So, where were we?" said Cesare turning back to Quinn. "Ah yes, how about we make you a man today?"

"As much fun as you make it sound, I would like to refuse," said Quinn.

"Oh, come on, it will be fun!"

"Cesare, stop trying to persuade Quinn to join you in your dalliances," a firm and deep voice with a heavy tone of displeasure.

Quinn turned to see a tall man, and unlike Cesare, he was dressed impeccably in wizard robes. He could, though, see the strong resemblance the man had with Dolion and Cesare. He was leaner than the fat Cesare but bulkier than the wire-thin Dolion.

The man was Brio Abate's second son, Matteo Abate.

He turned to Quinn and spoke, "Your enthusiasm with magic is admirable, Quinn. Not many people with our gift truly appreciate it."

"Thank you," said Quinn. "I take that you're also in a field of magic?"

"Not at all. I don't have the talent for magical excellence. My calling is something else."

"Well, I welcome your appreciation for the thing that so many take for granted," said Quinn.

The thing about magicals was that not many actually wanted to research magic. It was a power that the majority of the magical population on Earth didn't really take as seriously as Quinn did. It was a natural part of their lives that they made it more accessible, and as long their magic was able to perform those daily tasks, not many people wished to improve upon it.

Such was human nature; they didn't have the desire to go beyond as long as they were comfortable. That's why many who went beyond in magic than the others had one common trait — they wanted to improve in their chosen craft/profession and thus utilized the gift of magic to accomplish that.

For example, George and Lia. They weren't that much interested in magic, but they were interested in business. So even though they weren't interested in magic, they used it to improve their business handling abilities. Both of them improved their Occlumency (efficiency-aspect) to help them retain memories and think quicker. Similarly, people in all sorts of occupations used magic to be at the top of their field.

That day, the lunch extended for a couple of hours, and Quinn was hounded by any Abate he came across. It seemed they were very interested in Aria's boy and how he turned out. Quinn had scanned the minds of those with weaker Occlumency, and most of them were very disappointed that the child of the runaway girl (Aria) had turned out so well.

'I wonder what Ari. . . mother was like when she was here?' he thought.

Quinn leaned towards Aksel and spoke, "We will start the tour tomorrow, Mr. Thorn."

"Hmm. . . . may I ask why?" asked Aksel

"I have found something else I want to do today."

"What will that be? I need to make sure I have prepared for it."

"Don't worry, I won't be leaving Palazzo Abate. You don't need to prepare for everything. Rest for the day; we'll be busy tomorrow onwards."

Quinn knew exactly who he was going to approach who could answer his questions.

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In the evening, Quinn knocked on the door of a terrace in the late evening. The large terrace was decorated with beautiful plants — they were in pots, a lot of them sat on the floor, and there were many which floated off the ground all around the terrace.

"Come in," said a voice.

Quinn entered the balcony, and to the right, he saw a mini roofed patio with a single swing bench on which sat an old lady with knitting needles and wool in hand.

She turned her head, and surprise crossed her face when she recognized him. "Quinn, what are you doing there? Come here," she said.

Quinn nodded with a smile and made his way to the roofed patio. "Grandmother," he said. Unlike Brio, Quinn was comfortable calling her that without prompting.

Francesca Abate, the wife of Brio Abate and the mother of Aria West, thus Quinn's grandmother.

"Don't be shy; sit with me," said Francesca smiling.

Quinn complied and sat down on the bench, which was attached to a swing. He glanced at the knitting needles in her hand and pointed, "Magic can make your work much easier, you know. I can charm the needles to work on their own, and you will have a beautiful jumper by this time tomorrow."

"I know that silly boy," she smiled as she stared at the knitting needles, "but at this age, there is little one can do to pass the time."

When Francesca turned to face Quinn, she found him staring at her. "What is it?" she asked.

"Your face," he said, "I mean, your wrinkles."

"Boy, you should never point a woman's wrinkle. It's rude. You will never get a wife this way."

Quinn chuckled, "I know that. What I mean is that your wrinkles are pretty. When you smile, your wrinkles accentuate your smile. It's very beautiful."

"It looks I was wrong. You will be able to find a wife just fine."

"It's a little too early for me to get a wife."

This time it was Quinn who found himself being stared at by Francesca. The old lady was gazing at Quinn with an unblinking gaze, and there was a distinct look in her eyes.

"I have seen your father and grandfather," she started, "the color of your eyes is a West family trait, but the shape of your eyes, that I think comes from your other grandmother because while your father had the same shape, your grandfather lacks it." She touched the top of his head, "Black hair is a shared trait between both Wests and Abate, but I know that your came from Aria. . . your hair is much blacker than the West's black. . . not only that I can see Aria in your face. . ."

Francesca stopped speaking and sighed heavily. Her hands went to her eyes as she wiped away some unshed tears.

"Sorry for showing such a pitiful sight," she smiled sadly. "It is just that Aria never came to visit except the two times she came to show you, and your sister after both of you were born. . . . and I couldn't go. . . ."

Quinn realized what Francesca meant. His parents had run away to get married, performed their wedding rites, and registered themselves as a married couple in private, without telling their families. Aria had run away while Adam wasn't on talking terms with George. Neither family was involved in their wedding.

And from what he had learned from Ms. Rosey, Adam and Aria had only visited the Abates four times since their marriage. Both were married for some sixteen years, and in all that time, Francesca had only met her eldest daughter four times. For magicals who could travel across the world with Portkeys in a short time and especially Wests and Abates who could essentially afford as many Portkeys they needed. . . . four visits in sixteen years was abysmally low.

"Look at me bringing skeletons of past out of the ground," said Francesca putting up a smile. "I know why you are here. You want to know about your mother, don't you?"

Quinn nodded. He wanted to know about the woman who Lia and everyone spoke so fondly about.

"Well, Aria was a charming girl, not like you with your glib tongue." Her words made Quinn smile; he had left an impression at lunch. "Your mother was a sweet girl who couldn't hurt a fly. When your bastard of a father," she held back no spite in her words, "took my darling daughter away, I was so scared that I couldn't sleep for days. I swore I almost blasted his head off when I saw him. . . ."

For the rest of the evening, the pair talked about the life of Quinn's mother from the very words of her own mother.

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Quinn West - MC - First day was a little hectic.

Brio Abate - Father - A very direct man.

Francesca Abate - Mother - Misses her daughter very much.

Dolion Abate - Third son - Studied in Salem.

Matteo Abate - Second son - The serious one.

Cesare Abate - First Son - A man who likes to have a certain kind of fun.

Aksel Thorn - Bodyguard - Turned in early today.

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