Where wizards congregated, taverns were an inevitable fixture. In his year within the magical community, Professor Sherlock Forester often reflected on how the wizarding world, in both societal and cultural customs, was at least a hundred years behind that of the muggles.
That despite their ability to create potions that gave life to still pictures, wizards never explored further, like producing short films. This lack of inventive thought meant that their entertainment options were considerably limited. Youths loved Quidditch, but beyond that, there was the rhythmic pouring of drinks and enthralling storytelling from local watering holes. Consequently, pubs could be found on virtually every magical avenue, offering those particular entrepreneurs steady patrons and healthy profits.
It was into one such tavern, named "Griffon Buveur," that Fleur Delacour led Sherlock and Harry. The establishment was reportedly run by a retired employee of the French Ministry of Magic who, in his retirement, had developed a flair for culinary delights.
"Once you're done visiting Monsieur Flamel, will you be heading straight back to England, or will you stay here a little longer?" Fleur inquired, swirling her orange juice idly. Both she and Harry were underage, so Sherlock took on the responsibility of urging them to abstain from alcohol, ordering himself a glass of lemonade to set an example.
"Well, our plan was to venture further afield and head to Sweden." Sherlock was improvising, but he found the idea appealing. "Since, we seldom get out and about, Harry and I had actually contemplated visiting Sweden before we even decided on Paris. Picking you up was just serendipitous." Harry was content to go wherever, the longer he could avoid the Dursleys, the better.
Fleur seemed on the cusp of making a request. Just as she seemed ready to voice it, a voice from nearby called her name.
"Miss Delacour?" They all turned toward the voice's owner, a freckled girl, who had only good things to say about their bar mate. Despite this, Fleur looked puzzled and asked, "Do I know you?"
"I'm Marlene McKinnon, a fifth year at Beauxbatons," she said, eyes sparkling with a mix of awe and reverence. "You might not recognize me, but I've always admired you."
Inside the bustling school, Fleur couldn't possibly be familiar with everyone. Yet, her Veela traits had ensured that almost all the students knew who she was. Casting that aside, she inquired if McKinnon's family also lived in Paris. Fleur didn't want to be impolite, but she also wanted to return to her conversation with Sherlock and Harry.
McKinnon shook her head, divulging that an elder in her family had given her a letter of recommendation for Monsieur Flamel in Paris. Since he was not home, McKinnon ended up wandering Place Cachée to find a place to stay and found them instead. "So, you're also looking for Mr. Flamel?" she asked.
Seeing their shared objective, McKinnon proposed joining them on the following day, and Sherlock caught sight of an unusual tattoo on her arm that resembled the symbol on Jonathan's necklace. Putting that mystery aside, they agreed to meet McKinnon at nine the next morning. After the girl departed, Sherlock became thoughtful. He pondered the correlation between the symbol on McKinnon's arm and Jonathan's necklace and decided to investigate it further later in Place Cachée.
Returning to their previous conversation, Sherlock asked Fleur what she was going to ask. However, she seemed reluctant to continue and changed the subject. They spent additional time in the bar, while Sherlock, driven by curiosity, headed out to explore the square, promising to rendezvous later in the tavern. Fleur and Harry stayed behind to enjoy their meal.
Despite their long wait, Sherlock couldn't uncover any information on the mysterious symbol. Disheartened, he picked up Harry and Fleur and drove them back to Delacour Manor. With an invitation to stay overnight, the manor's house-elf, Rémi, had prepared their rooms and a delightful dinner that included stories from Monsieur Delacour about the French Ministry of Magic and embroidering comparisons of their work life with Hogwarts.
Roused by the first light of dawn, adhering to his routine at Hogwarts, Sherlock arose and freshened up. He put his running shoes on for a brisk jog before returning to the manor.
Finding Mrs. Delacour busily preparing breakfast in the kitchen, he was welcomed by a sleepy Gabrielle whose enthusiasm awakened at the mention of goblin hunting later that day. Despite having a house elf, Mrs. Delacour preferred to prepare meals herself.
Their breakfast banter was unexpectedly interrupted by the sight of Fleur, who had forgotten their presence in her home and appeared in nothing but her nightgown. Remaining nonchalant, Sherlock forcibly averted his eyes and scurried off to hustle Harry out of bed.
Harry's growing fondness for sleeping in was well-contained by Sherlock who drew him away from his bed for the busy day ahead. Harry moaned but reluctantly got ready to face the day, starting with breakfast. Sherlock and Harry savored the toast and sausages, reminiscent of their meals back at Hogwarts.
After breakfast, they bade Mrs. Delacour goodbye and headed out to visit Monsieur Flamel and thereafter tour Paris, with little intention of returning to the manor
On the way, Fleur hesitated before asking them. "Are you really not planning to stay at my house again tonight?" While driving, Sherlock casually responded. "No, when I took Harry out, I had agreed with his aunt. I'd only take him out for two or three weeks, if we continue to stay in Paris, there will hardly be any time to go to Sweden." Harry complained, "Actually, Professor, you don't necessarily have to send me home at such an exact time, I doubt they'll notice even if I don't come back at all."
"I dislike those who don't keep their word, so of course I will make good on my promise. You should be a good child and be honest and obedient, don't think about deceiving adults in case something happens." Sherlock reprimanded Harry, who obediently listened.
Despite this trip having significantly bridged the distance between Harry and Sherlock, he still remembered that this was his professor, not his mate, he shouldn't act recklessly around him. Fleur boredly listened to their conversation in the back seat, for some reason, her mood seemed a bit low.
But neither Sherlock nor Harry paid much attention; well, girls are like that, there are a few days every month when they're not as cheerful, if she is always cheerful and hearty, then that would be the strange thing. (E/N.: bruh)
They hadn't reached Mr. Flamel's house yet, but from a distance, Sherlock and they could already see a few figures loitering around in wizard's attire. "Why aren't they entering?" Harry asked doubtfully, "Could it be that Mr. Flamel still hasn't returned yet?"
Sherlock parked the car by the roadside, accompanying Harry and Fleur towards the entrance of Mr. Flamel's house. The ones loitering in front of the entrance were undoubtedly wizards. They were dressed in long robes, some even wearing pointy hats without trying to conceal them, if not for the Muggle repulsion spell in the nearby residences, it would probably attract a lot of people to watch. In a search among the wizards, Fleur did not see her fellow school sister McKenne.
Sherlock found a wizard and asked about the situation. "Mr. Flamel has returned, a house elf came out just now to tell us to wait outside for a while, Mr. Flamel will come out to receive us after getting prepared."
"Come out to receive us?" Sherlock asked with confusion.
"Yes, because everyone came to visit Mr. Flamel at the same time and Mr. Flamel's house isn't big enough, he's apparently receiving us outside."
After thanking the wizard, Sherlock returned to Harry and Fleur. "They said Mr. Flamel has returned, but we have to wait for him to come out to receive us."
Harry looked at the wizards waiting at the entrance, there were approximately a dozen or so. "I know he sent out a bunch of invitations, but how could there be so many visitors coming at the same time?"
Fleur thought for a moment, then said "Perhaps some people came earlier but didn't meet Mr. Flamel, however, they saw the message he left on the doorplate, so they waited until today."
They stood in front of the door and waited for a while, but still couldn't see the figure of Flamel. Sherlock shrugged.
"Maybe he had something come up suddenly and got delayed," he said.
Just as Sherlock's words fell, an old man with snow-white hair emerged from Flamel's courtyard and opened the gate. The wizards waiting in front of the gate gathered around.
"Mr. Flamel!"
They respectfully called out. This was the first time Sherlock had seen in person the wizard who, in a sense, was even more famous than Dumbledore.
Nicolas Flamel was a wizard born in the 14th century in France. Using his extraordinary alchemical skills, he created many magical products most famous of which is of course the Philosopher's Stone, which could turn things into gold with a touch, and produce the Elixir of Life.
Relying on these, he and his wife had lived from the 14th century to the present day. Whether in the magical world or among Muggles, there were countless legends and stories about him.
As the first and only person in history to create the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel was an idol-like figure among wizards in any country, but particularly France. There were few wizards who didn't grow up hearing his tales.
So, upon learning that he intended to destroy the Philosopher's Stone and give its fragments away, the wizards who were once familiar with him had their descendants come, hoping to obtain a piece.
And in the presence of Flamel himself, these young wizards were also extremely respectful.
Unlike others who had immediately gathered around, the three of them, Sherlock, didn't approach right away. Fleur furrowed her brows as she observed the visitors.
"Jonathan isn't here either."
"The fellow you suspect of being in cahoots with the goblin?"
"Yes, when we first met, he told me he wanted to visit Mr. Flamel, that was his whole excuse for traveling together, but for some reason, he's not here today."
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