Chapter 42: Art Preservation
---Two Weeks Later, January 1988---
The morning sun painted the Serengeti in gold as Harry adjusted his enchanted pith helmet. Like everything else they wore, it had been carefully chosen from Magical Alexandria's finest outfitters - lightweight robes in desert browns and greens, spelled to repel insects and maintain comfortable temperatures.
"Remember," their guide, Madam Nyota, gestured at the floating wooden platforms ahead, "the viewing areas are charmed against creature attacks, but do keep your hands inside the railings. Even magic has its limits."
Their group of about fifteen witches and wizards followed her onto the first platform. Harry noticed how it barely swayed despite floating twenty feet above the ground, held steady by some unknown spell.
"Some of you may have visited muggle safari parks," Nyota continued, her voice carrying easily. "Our magical reserves are quite different. Here, we maintain vast stretches of land under charms, allowing our creatures to roam freely while remaining hidden from non-magical eyes."
Chrysa padded alongside Harry, drawing curious looks from the other tourists. A stern-faced wizard in practical field robes frowned at his notebook. "A juvenile Nemean Lion that should be extinct and even this far from Greece? I don't suppose you'd allow me to document-"
"My ward's companion is not part of the exhibition, Herr Schmidt," Nicolas interrupted smoothly, both he and Perenelle's disguised forms appearing perfectly ordinary among the tourists.
The German magizoologist threw a scathing look at them, nodded stiffly and returned to his notes.
Many magical bridges connected their platform to others scattered across the landscape. As they crossed to a larger viewing area, Harry spotted movement in the distance - a group of elegant, long-limbed creatures with slender necks and delicate faces. They moved with a graceful, bounding motion he'd never seen before, and atop their heads, curved spikes sparkled with tiny lights.
"Angaza-paa," Nyota explained, "Distant cousins of their non-magical relatives. Those lights you see? Perfect defense against predators - they can flash bright enough to temporarily blind anything that gets too close."
A Brazilian teenager who'd introduced himself as Paulo earlier nudged his younger sister. "Like that charm you learned last term, Ana!"
"Shh!" Their mother scolded. "Let the guide speak!"
Harry leaned against the railing, Chrysa a warm presence at his side. The savannah looked endlessly vast like this, and somewhere in the distance, a deep rumbling sound echoed across the plain...
"Ah," Nyota smiled, "that would be our resident Kifaru-dume herd. They're particularly active this morning."
Their platform slowly glided closer, and Harry felt his Hero's Journal pulse gently in his Hun soul. He pulled it out, watching golden letters form across a previously blank page:
Where three peaks pierce the desert sky, Ancient vaults sleep deep and dry. Through paths of gold and walls of horn, Secrets wait where kings were born...
Harry stared down at the puzzle for a new 'adventure', and closed the journal without another thought.
The Kifaru-dume or erumpents were far more interesting - massive grey-skinned creatures with horns that gleamed like polished metal. A mother was demonstrating something to her calf, lowering her horn toward a dead tree.
"Watch carefully," Nyota whispered, "this is quite rare to witness..."
The mother erumpent's horn glowed briefly before a small explosion blew up the base of the tree before it fell to the ground with a loud thump. The calf attempted to copy her, producing only a tiny pop that barely scorched the bark.
"Remarkable control," muttered Herr Schmidt, furiously taking notes. "The mother deliberately reduced the explosive force for training purposes..."
A middle-aged wizard in expensive safari robes pushed forward with a camera. "Just a bit closer-"
"Behind the yellow line, Mr. Carrington," Nyota said sharply. "Unless you'd like to test how well these platforms hold up against an alarmed Kifaru-dume mother?"
The man stepped back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, got carried away. But surely with proper shield charms-"
"The same shield charms that three trained wizards used last year?" Nyota raised an eyebrow. "They survived, barely. Their platform didn't. Now, if you'll observe from a safe distance..."
Harry watched intently as the mother erumpent continued teaching her calf. The way she controlled the explosive force... it reminded him of his own practice with fire intensity...
Almost without thinking, Harry raised his hands. Azure flames flickered between his palms, drawing a few startled gasps from nearby tourists. But he was too focused to notice, carefully shaping the fire as he'd learned in Japan.
The flames took form - Chrysa's shape developing in perfect detail. Every whisker, every ripple of muscle captured in living fire. Then Harry adjusted the chi flow, making the flames pulse rhythmically like a heartbeat.
Chrysa, recognizing herself, rose onto her hind legs and playfully swiped at the image. Her paw passed harmlessly through the flames, making her chuff in mock irritation.
"Merlin's beard," breathed an elegantly dressed witch who'd been sketching the erumpents. "That's extraordinary control... and without a wand?"
"An enchanted item, obviously," the expensive-robed wizard - Carrington - said dismissively. "Some clever sleight of hand to make the boy seem-"
"I assure you," Nicolas interrupted coldly, "my ward needs no such tricks."
"Impossible," Carrington scoffed. "No child could-"
"The lines are remarkably precise," a quiet voice cut in. A witch in practical artist's robes had moved closer, studying the flickering image with professional interest. "And see how the flames maintain consistent density despite the periodic pulses? That's not trick work."
Harry maintained the image a moment longer before letting it fade. "Thank you," he said politely to the artist. "I've been practicing with temperature variation lately, but it's harder than regular painting."
"Regular painting?" The artist's eyes lit up. "You work in other mediums?"
"Oh yes," Perenelle smiled proudly. "Harry's quite talented with-"
A loud explosion cut her off. The baby erumpent had finally managed a proper horn-blast, though it had knocked itself backward in the process. Its mother helped it up with surprising gentleness for such a massive creature.
"May I introduce myself properly?" The artist approached once the excitement died down. "Amara Okoro. I specialize in magical preservation of artistic works."
Harry shook her offered hand. "Harry Potter. Though I suppose you already knew that."
"The name, yes. The talent, no." She smiled warmly. "Those flames... have you considered preserving them? There are ways to capture magical art in its living form."
The Brazilian teenagers had edged closer. "We have something similar in Brazil," Paulo offered. "Our fire-dancers preserve their performances in crystal."
"Different principle entirely," Amara shook her head. "This is pure magical construct, not performance enhancement. The precision required..."
Harry glanced at the Flamels. "Could I... maybe try? It would be good practice."
Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged one of their meaningful looks. "Perhaps," Perenelle said carefully, "we could discuss terms over dinner? Proper commissions should be handled formally."
"Of course," Amara agreed immediately. "I wouldn't want to impose-"
A deep rumble interrupted them. The erumpent herd was moving on, and Nyota was already directing their platform to follow. "We should see the Tembo-anga next," she announced. "They're particularly active this time of day."
They glided across the savannah, and Harry noticed Chrysa's attention was fixed on something in the distance. Following her gaze, he spotted what looked like enormous birds running across the plain, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"Ah," Nyota noticed his interest. "Tufani-ndege. We'll visit their nesting grounds tomorrow, if you're joining us for the full tour?"
Their platform drifted higher as they approached a misty valley. Through the gentle haze, Harry could make out enormous shapes moving with impossible grace. The Tembo-anga floated through the air like clouds given form, their pearlescent skin shifting between sky-blue and pure white.
Herr Schmidt gaped as he watched one of the creatures delicately pluck moisture from a passing cloud with its trunk. "The atmospheric manipulation is far more refined than previous accounts suggested..."
"They're dancing," Ana whispered, and Harry realized she was right. The massive creatures were moving in playful ways, their wing-like ears twitching as they drifted through different aerial formations.
Wherever their opalescent tusks caught the sunlight, rainbow refractions painted the mist. Small rain clouds sprouted from their occasional footprints on the ground, creating a gentle pattern of localized showers across the valley.
"They maintain the entire ecosystem," Nyota explained softly, respect clear in her voice. "The magical properties of their mist nurture other creatures, and their weather control prevents droughts in the magical parts."
Chrysa watched the aerial display with unusual stillness, her tail barely twitching. Harry wondered if she was remembering the mountains of Greece where her kind had once roamed just as freely.
"About that commission," Harry turned to Amara, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing the moment. "I'd like to try capturing this. The way they move through the mist..."
Nicolas nodded approvingly. "We can discuss details over dinner, as Perenelle suggested. Though perhaps..." his eyes twinkled, "you might want to practice a bit first? The light effects seem particularly challenging."
Harry was already raising his hands, azure flames flickering as he tried to capture the grace of the Tembo-anga. This time he added touches of near-white azure flame for the opalescent tusks, letting the gradients shift like the creatures' skin.
But sadly their platform inevitably began its gradual return journey… Harry noticed Herr Schmidt had finally looked up from his notebook. The magizoologist gave Harry's floating fire-painting a single approving nod before returning to his observations.
oo0ooOoo0oo
---Mid of January 1988, Zanzibar---
The brass compass spun wildly before yanking them through space. They landed on sun-warmed tiles, and Harry's first thought was that everything smelled like his favorite tea - cardamom, cinnamon, and something mysteriously exotic.
"Pwani ya Uchawi," Nicolas announced cheerfully. "The Hidden Coast. No muggles for miles in any direction."
Harry stared through the pearl-white archways at the impossible sight of waves parting around invisible walls. Small boats with silver sails drifted between perfectly circular pools of calm water, their crews directing crates through the air with casual flicks of their wands.
"We're looking for Amara's contact," Perenelle reminded them, though she was already eyeing a shop displaying floating spice jars. "Something about crystal vessels for preserving magical art?"
"After we look around a bit," Nicolas smiled as he winked at Harry. "When was the last time we visited a proper magical market?"
They wandered down winding streets where merchants called out in Swahili, offering everything from color-changing silk to bottled moonlight. Harry noticed lots of wizards carrying staffs or wearing rings set with enormous gems, though most still used wands.
"Look!" Harry pointed at a stall where tiny elephants made of spun sugar were marching across a tray, each one a different jewel-tone color. The merchant, an elderly wizard in robes patterned like a sunset, beamed at their interest.
"Special price for special guests," he said in Swahili, plucking up a crystalline purple elephant and offering it to Harry. "They last forever unless you eat them."
The sugar elephant trumpeted silently in Harry's palm before dissolving on his tongue in a burst of grape and something that made his ears steam slightly. Chrysa sniffed hopefully at his hand until the merchant laughed and tossed her what looked like a sugar antelope.
They continued through the market, passing stalls selling everything from self-stirring cooking pots to bottles of "Genuine Zanzibar Sunset" (which did seem to contain actual captured sunlight). A group of children raced past on carpets that hovered about two feet off the ground, supervised by a harried-looking witch with a teacher's badge.
That was when a witch approached them near a corner shop, her deep blue robes adorned with golden threads at the edges. Various rings decorated her fingers, each set with a different colored gemstone.
"You have the look of discerning collectors," she said warmly, holding up her hands so the gems sparkled. "These focusing crystals are from the sacred caves of Kilimanjaro itself. The moonstone is particularly excellent for weather charms."
"They're beautiful," Perenelle said politely, "though I prefer the versatility of a wand."
The witch's smile dimmed slightly. "Ah, that method. I never could master those flicky movements - so unstable! With these, you simply channel your magic through the proper stone. Much more... natural, wouldn't you say?"
"Natural, perhaps," Perenelle looked very doubtful, "though I find anything beyond basic charms rather crude without a proper wand."
Nicolas suddenly developed an intense interest in a nearby display of star charts, while Harry pretended to be completely absorbed in watching Chrysa chase the last bits of her sugar antelope.
"Crude?" The witch drew herself up. "I'll have you know these techniques have been passed down through fifteen generations of-"
"How fascinating," Perenelle cut in smoothly. "Do excuse us, we have an appointment in the Crystal Quarter."
She guided Harry away with a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaving the witch bristling behind them.
"Did you really need to-" Nicolas started once they were out of earshot.
"If someone is going to be provincial about proper magical tools, dear, I see no reason to coddle them." Perenelle waved her hand at the offended witch. "Now, where was that map..."
"But some of those rings did look interesting," Harry said, turning his head to look at the merchant splashing some guy that reached out to her with water pouring out from one of her rings. "The way they caught the light-"
"Parlor tricks," Perenelle said firmly. "Pretty, yes, but you'll never see serious magic done without a wand. There's a reason they're the standard in every proper magical institution worldwide."
Nicolas caught Harry's eye and gave a tiny shrug that seemed to say 'some arguments aren't worth having.'
"The Crystal Quarter should be up ahead," Nicolas said, clearly eager to change the subject. "Though I wouldn't mind stopping at that spice merchant first..."
The spice stall was unlike anything Harry had seen before. Mounds of colorful powders floated in the air, occasionally mixing together to form new shades and scents. The merchant, a cheerful woman wrapped in bright orange fabric, was directing the display with gentle movements of her wand.
"Just a pinch of sunset saffron," she was telling another customer, "and your food will taste like happy memories."
While Nicolas and Perenelle discussed prices for something called 'Dragon's Breath Cinnamon', Harry watched the spices fly through the air. The way they mixed and separated reminded him of how he controlled his flames...
"Could I try something?" he asked the merchant. She nodded, curious, as Harry raised his hands and created a small azure flame. He carefully shaped it to match the flowing patterns of the spices, drawing appreciative murmurs from nearby shoppers.
"Ah, you have magic in your hands," the merchant said approvingly. "But be careful with fire here - some of these spices are quite explosive when heated."
They eventually found their way to the Crystal Quarter, where the buildings seemed to be grown from massive gemstones rather than built. Light bounced between the structures in rainbows, creating ever-changing displays in the air.
"There," Perenelle pointed to a shop front made of what looked like pure diamond. "That must be where Amara's contact works."
A sign above the door read "Almasi's Eternal Treasures" in letters that shifted between different precious stones.
Just as they reached the door, it burst open and a wizard in paint-splattered robes stormed out, his long beard trailing sparks of indignation.
"You'll regret this, Almasi!" he shouted back into the shop. "When they write about the great Jabari Mwangi in the history books, you'll remember the day you refused to buy my self-rearranging portraits!"
"The day your painting rearranged itself into a rather rude gesture at my customers?" came an amused female voice. "Yes, I imagine I will remember that quite clearly."
The angry artist nearly collided with their group, did a double-take at Chrysa, and promptly tripped over his own robes in his haste to back away. His portfolio went flying, spilling paintings across the crystal street - including one that did indeed seem to be making obscene gestures at passersby.
"Here, let me-" Harry started to help, but Nicolas gently pulled him back as the paintings began arranging themselves into even ruder configurations.
"MY ART!" Jabari wailed, chasing after a particularly energetic canvas that was now attempting to kick other paintings. "Come back! This is not the statement I intended!"
"Though perhaps the statement they wanted to make," said the woman in the doorway dryly. She was tall and elegant, draped in robes that seemed woven from crystalline threads, and her eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter. "Welcome to Almasi's. Please, do come in before any more... artistic expressions occur in the street."
Inside, the shop was filled with captured magic. Paintings across crystal walls, sculptures made of impossible geometries, and what looked like a frozen waterfall of pure light flowing silently through the center of the room.
"Ah, you must be Amara's friends," Almasi said, waving her wand to conjure comfortable chairs. "She sent word about a young artist with rather unique talents. Though she failed to mention..." she glanced at Chrysa with delighted interest, "such distinguished company."
Chrysa preened slightly at being called distinguished, then became distracted by a crystal sculpture of a bird that kept changing species every few seconds.
"We heard you might know how to preserve magical art?" Harry asked, watching a painting of a storm that actually produced tiny raindrops that evaporated before hitting the floor.
"Among other things," Almasi smiled. "Though first - would you mind terribly dealing with poor Jabari's latest masterpiece? It seems to be attempting to challenge my door to a duel."
They turned to see one of the stray paintings had indeed followed them, brandishing a painted sword at the crystal door with what appeared to be very poor form.
"COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!" Jabari's voice echoed from outside. "That's not even the right way to hold a sword!"
Nicolas coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like hidden laughter. "Perhaps we should close the door?"
Almasi waved her wand and the door sealed itself with a musical chime, muffling Jabari's increasingly creative threats to his rebellious artwork. "Now then," she said, settling into a chair that seemed to grow from the crystal floor, "let's discuss your fire paintings."
A tea set floated over, each cup a different gemstone that somehow remained perfect for drinking from. Harry noticed his cup was sapphire - the same color as his flames.
"Amara mentioned you achieved something quite remarkable with temperature variation?" Almasi continued, adding a spoon of what looked like crushed diamonds to her tea. It made the liquid sparkle like starlight.
"Yes," Harry demonstrated by creating a small azure flame between his palms, shaping it into a miniature version of the sugar elephant from earlier. "I can control the heat to create different shades and-"
A tremendous crash from outside made them all jump. Through the crystal walls, they could see Jabari wrestling with what appeared to be his entire portfolio, which had apparently gained collective sentience and decided to re-enact a gladiator battle.
"Oh dear," Almasi sighed. "That would be the enchanted paints he insisted on using. I did warn him they were still experimental..."
"Should we help?" Harry asked, watching as a particularly aggressive landscape painting attempted to frame Jabari.
"Best not to," Nicolas said wisely. "Art critics can be rather... passionate about their work."
"Speaking of passion," Almasi turned back to Harry's flame elephant, which was still trumpeting silently between his palms, "that is quite extraordinary control for one so young. The way you've maintained the trunk's detail while varying the temperature gradient... May I?"
She held up what looked like a perfectly clear crystal cube about the size of a Quaffle.
"This is an Artisan's Crystal," Almasi said, rotating the crystal cube in the air with her wand, "Very simple really - it grows to fit the art, and if the art is true..." She held the crystal near Harry's fire-portrait of the elephant.
The crystal cube began to hum softly...
"The crystal resonates with true artistic intent," Almasi explained as the cube's humming grew more musical. "It won't preserve tricks or illusions, only genuine-"
Another crash from outside. "NO! Not the tentacles! I knew I shouldn't have painted that giant squid!"
"-genuine artistic expression," Almasi continued serenely, as if desperate artists weren't being attacked by their own paintings just outside her shop. "The stronger the artistic intent, the clearer the preservation."
Harry's flame-elephant was starting to draw the crystal's attention. Tiny reflections of azure fire appeared deep within the cube.
"Very interesting," Nicolas leaned forward, nearly spilling his diamond-sparkled tea. "It's all remarkably stable. Perenelle, look at how the crystal is adapting to the temperature variations..."
"Less analyzing, more watching," Perenelle chided gently. "Our boy is about to have his first preserved artwork."
Chrysa had finally lost interest in the shape-shifting bird sculpture and padded over to watch, her tail swishing with curiosity as the crystal began to glow softly.
"Just like that," Almasi nodded as the crystal's glow intensified. "Now, think about what made you want to create this piece. Focus on that with everything you have..."
The crystal cube suddenly flashed, and when the light faded, Harry's azure elephant stood frozen within it, each delicate flame perfectly preserved. As they watched, the flames began their flowing again, moving in the same graceful patterns Harry had created.
"Excellent!" Almasi beamed. "A perfect preservation on your first try. The attunement is quite simple - just touch your wand to these facets here, here, and here... then anyone can activate or pause the display."
She demonstrated, making the elephant freeze mid-trumpet before resuming its endless cycle. "Now, these crystals are quite rare, carefully grown in volcanic caves for at least a month. For this size, I normally charge-"
Harry turned his best pleading look toward Nicolas and Perenelle. He'd been practicing it on Chrysa, who was completely immune but had helped him refine the technique.
Nicolas Flamel, creator of the Philosopher's Stone, smirked. "Perhaps," he said casually, pulling out a leather pouch that clinked promisingly, "you could tell us about your current inventory?"
Almasi's eyes widened slightly at the distinctive sound of significant wealth. "Well, I do have a selection of various sizes..."
"All of them," Nicolas said firmly, ignoring Perenelle's fondly exasperated head shake.
A particularly loud crash from outside was followed by the sound of Jabari shouting something about artistic revolution, but nobody paid it any attention. They were too busy watching Almasi's expression shift from surprise to delight as Nicolas continued casually stacking gold on her counter.
"You know," Perenelle whispered to Harry as Nicolas and Almasi worked out the details, "he used to do this with my early attempts at alchemy too. Our first cottage ended up with an entire room full of preserved failed experiments."
"They weren't failures," Nicolas called over his shoulder, "they were learning experiences! Now, about international shipping arrangements..."
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