Chapter 108: Nicolas Flamel's Visitors

Chapter 108: Nicolas Flamel's Visitors

Wherever wizards gather, there's bound to be a bar.

Sherlock had lived in the Wizarding World for a year and always felt that, in terms of social structure and customs, it was a century behind the Muggle world.

For example, the Manifesting Potion, which brings characters in photos to life, had been invented long ago, yet no wizard had thought to apply it to other areas, like making movies.

As a result, wizards' entertainment options were quite limited.

In their youth, they could play Quidditch, but as they aged, their leisure activities often revolved around sitting in a bar, having a few drinks, and boasting to others.

This is why every wizarding street inevitably had a bar.

After all, running a bar in the Wizarding World was very profitable.

Fleur led Sherlock and Harry into a bar called "Astrology." It was said that the owner was a retired Silencer from the French Ministry of Magic who opened it out of boredom. The food there was particularly delicious.

"Are you planning to return to Britain after visiting Mr. Flamel, or are you staying for a couple more days?" Fleur asked, stirring her orange juice with a straw, pretending to be casual.

With Sherlock around, the two minors wouldn't be drinking, and to set an example, he himself ordered a lemonade.

"We're thinking of heading to Sweden next", Sherlock said, making plans on the fly. "Since we've come all this way, Harry and I initially planned to go to Sweden first before coming to Paris. We just happened to pick you up along the way."

Harry had no objections to Sherlock's plan. He was fine with going anywhere, and the longer he could delay returning to the Dursleys, the better.

Fleur seemed to be struggling with a request, but before she could muster the courage to speak, a voice called out to her.

"Delacour Senior!"

They turned to see a girl with freckles on her face approaching Fleur.

"I didn't expect to run into you here", she said excitedly.

Fleur looked at her, puzzled.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a fifth-year student at Beauxbatons—Mylene Kreel. You might not remember me, Senior, but I've always admired you!" she said, her eyes shining.

The number of students at Beauxbatons was neither small nor large, and Fleur couldn't possibly know everyone, but it was rare to find someone who didn't know her.

Her Veela heritage gave her an unparalleled beauty, making her the center of attention among students.

"Hello, Kreel. Is your family in Paris?"

Although Fleur didn't want to chat with others while having afternoon tea with Sherlock and Harry, she couldn't ignore a junior from her school. So she asked a casual question to make it less awkward.

The girl named Kreel shook her head.

"No, an elder in my family gave me a letter of introduction, telling me to come to Paris to find Nicolas Flamel. When I went to Mr. Flamel's house, he wasn't there and left a note saying he would return tomorrow. So, I came to Diagon Alley to find a place to stay, and I didn't expect to bump into you, Senior. What a coincidence!"

Hearing this, Sherlock and Harry exchanged a glance, while Fleur looked surprised.

"You're here to visit Mr. Flamel too?"

"Senior, are you also planning to visit Mr. Flamel?" Kreel looked thrilled, lifting her wrist and clenching her left hand into a fist, causing her sleeve to slide down and reveal a small part of her arm. "Can we visit together tomorrow? We can meet at Mr. Flamel's house."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at her arm.

Fleur had no objections to her request.

"We'll be at Mr. Flamel's house at nine tomorrow morning. You can join us."

"Thank you, Senior. I won't disturb you and your friends any longer. Goodbye."

Kreel seemed to notice Sherlock's scrutinizing gaze and pulled her sleeve back up before leaving.

Sherlock watched her go, deep in thought.

Harry looked at him, puzzled.

"What is it, Professor?"

Sherlock snapped back to reality, shook his head, and said nothing.

He had noticed a tattoo on the girl's arm that resembled the symbol on the necklace worn by a wizard named Jonathan. It could be a coincidence, or he might have been mistaken, but Sherlock silently memorized the symbol, planning to visit a bookstore in Diagon Alley later to look for information and recall where he had seen it before.

"By the way, what were you about to say earlier?" Sherlock turned to Fleur, gesturing for her to continue what she had left unsaid.

"Nothing, nothing."

But Fleur now seemed deflated, lacking the resolve she had before to speak her mind.

They stayed at the bar for a while longer before Sherlock went to Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley to look for a book. Harry and Fleur stayed behind, eating and waiting for him.

However, even as the sky grew dark, Sherlock couldn't find the book where he had seen the symbol.

In the end, he left Diagon Alley with the question still unresolved, driving Harry and Fleur back to the Delacour estate.

They would naturally be staying at Fleur's house for the night.

Mrs. Delacour had already prepared a sumptuous dinner, and Fleur's father had come home from the Ministry of Magic to join them.

Mr. Delacour was a witty man, and he and Sherlock chatted about various amusing anecdotes from the French Ministry of Magic, as well as the teaching life at Hogwarts.

The dinner was a pleasant affair, and the house-elf Cheekly had readied two guest rooms. Harry and Sherlock went to bed early.

The next day, they planned to visit Nicolas Flamel again and explore Paris.

The next morning, Sherlock woke up on time, his Hogwarts-trained circadian rhythm keeping him on schedule even during the holidays.

After washing up, he went out for a run on the small road outside the estate before returning.

Mrs. Delacour was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Although they had a house-elf, it seemed to be a hobby for Fleur's mother to cook the family meals herself.

Little Gabrielle emerged from her bedroom, still half-asleep, and greeted Sherlock in a drowsy voice.

"Good morning, Sherlock big brother."

"Good morning."

Sherlock patted her head.

"Why are you up so early?"

"Mom said we're going to the garden to catch Goblins today", Gabrielle said, her voice brightening. "Once we catch them, you have to throw them as far as you can! Otherwise, they'll come back and cause trouble in the garden."

"You should do your best, then."

While Sherlock was chatting with Gabrielle, Fleur emerged from her bedroom, stretching lazily. She seemed a bit disoriented, having forgotten that there were more than just her, her sister, and their mother at home. Her sleepwear rode up her arms, revealing a slender waist that was both alluring and dizzying.

Sherlock nonchalantly turned away and went to Harry's room to wake him up.

Fleur soon realized her indiscreet moment but didn't react with the bashfulness of a young girl. Instead, she held her head high with a proud expression.

However, the light blush on her cheeks betrayed the fact that she was far less composed than she appeared.

Sherlock dragged Harry out of bed.

Since being taken in by Sherlock from the Dursleys, Harry's appetite had grown, and he had become more fond of sleeping in.

"Stop sleeping. We have a busy day ahead of us."

Harry responded listlessly, his hair a mess, and stumbled to his glasses before heading to the bathroom to wash up.

Breakfast was toast and sausages.

Mrs. Delacour's cooking was excellent, and the toast was just as good as what they had at Beauxbatons.

After breakfast, they formally bid farewell to Mrs. Delacour.

After visiting Nicolas Flamel, they planned to spend a day in Paris before leaving, with no plans to return to the Delacour estate.

As they left, Gabrielle, holding her mother's hand, waved goodbye to them. Mrs. Delacour invited them to visit again when they next came to France.

Sherlock, Harry, and Fleur set off again to visit Nicolas Flamel.

On the way, Fleur hesitated and asked them,

"Are you really not going to stay another night at my place?"

Sherlock, driving, replied casually,

"No, I promised Harry's aunt that I would only take him out for two or three weeks. If we stay in Paris any longer, we won't have time to go to Sweden."

Harry said resentfully.

"Actually, Professor, you don't have to be so punctual about dropping me off at home."

"I hate people who don't keep their promises, so I won't be one of them. You should also be an honest kid and not try to hide things from adults first."

Sherlock lectured Harry, who listened obediently.

Although this trip had undoubtedly brought Harry and Sherlock closer, Harry still remembered that this was his most respected professor. He didn't let familiarity lead to disrespectful behavior.

Fleur, standing behind them, listened to their conversation with a serious face. For some reason, she looked a bit upset.

But neither Sherlock nor Harry paid much attention to her. After all, girls have their bad days, and if she were always cheerful, that would be strange.

Before they reached Nicolas Flamel's house, they could already see a few wizards lingering around the area.

Harry couldn't help but ask, puzzled.

"Why don't they go in? Has Mr. Flamel not returned yet?"

Sherlock parked the car by the roadside and led Harry and Fleur to the front door of Nicolas Flamel's house.

The people loitering at the door were clearly wizards. They wore robes, and some even had pointed hats, which would have drawn a crowd if not for the Muggle-Repelling Charm in the area.

Fleur scanned the wizards but didn't see her schoolmate, Kriel, whom she had met at the bar yesterday.

Sherlock approached one of the wizards to ask what was going on.

"Mr. Flamel has returned. A house-elf came out and told us to wait outside for a moment. Mr. Flamel is preparing to come out and greet us."

"Greet us?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.

"Yes, since all the visitors happened to come at the same time, Mr. Flamel's house isn't large enough to accommodate everyone, so he will come out to receive us."

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 and greet us."

Harry looked at the wizards waiting at the door, estimating there were about a dozen of them.

"Even if many people visit Mr. Flamel, why did they all come on the same day?"

Fleur thought for a moment and said, "Perhaps some of them came early and didn't see Mr. Flamel, but they saw a message he left on the door and decided to wait until today, so they all ended up here at once."

They waited a bit longer, but Fleur still didn't see Kriel.

Sherlock shrugged and said, "Maybe she had something come up."

Just as Sherlock finished speaking, a white-haired old man emerged from Flamel's courtyard and opened the gate.

The wizards waiting at the door gathered around him.

"Mr. Flamel!"

They called out respectfully.

This was the first time Sherlock had seen, in person, the wizard who, in a certain sense, was even more famous than Dumbledore.

Nicolas Flamel was a wizard born in France in the 14th century. With his incredible alchemy skills, he created the Philosopher's Stone, which could turn base metals into gold and produce the Elixir of Life.

Thanks to this, he and his wife lived from the 14th century to the present day.

Legends about him circulated both in the Wizarding World and among Muggles.

As the first and only wizard to create the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel was an idol to wizards everywhere, and few wizards hadn't grown up hearing his tales.

So, when he announced he would destroy the Philosopher's Stone and distribute its fragments, many wizards who had known him personally sent their descendants to try to obtain a piece.

The young wizards, upon seeing Mr. Flamel in person, showed great respect.

Sherlock, Harry, and Fleur didn't immediately join the crowd. Fleur frowned as she looked at the visitors.

"Jonathan didn't come either."

"You mean the wizard you suspect is connected to the goblin who stole your wand?"

"Yes, the first time we met, he said he was also visiting Mr. Flamel and hoped to travel with me. But for some reason, he didn't come today."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end