Chapter 242
France is a country of love and fashion.
That statement was hard to argue with. The first thing that greeted Severus upon leaving the airport was the boutiques — countless boutiques, primarily selling women's clothing, their bright, flashy signs impossible to ignore. Even Nagini's eyes darted around at the sheer variety the Muggles offered. If she could take human form, they certainly wouldn't be leaving this place anytime soon.
The massive crowds of both wizards and ordinary folk strolling along the narrow streets came as no surprise. Not only were the airport and a bustling shopping district nearby, but a beach lay just a couple of kilometers away. Young men and women in rather revealing outfits were heading toward it, bright smiles on their faces.
The first little restaurant that caught their eye seemed the perfect spot for breakfast. Inside, pleasant, soothing music played, and the warm-toned interior was filled with couples of all ages. The romantic atmosphere spoke for itself. Nagini's embarrassment was overwhelming him, and he marveled at how she could sustain such an intense feeling for so long.
The breakfast, however, was remarkably delicious and filling. It kept them going straight through to lunch as they strolled through the beautiful city.
The only thing Severus couldn't fathom was what was so beautiful about the Eiffel Tower. It was a massive metal structure standing three hundred and twenty-four meters tall. Yet at the sight of it, Muggles practically squealed with delight, snapping photos from every conceivable angle, while nearby artists raked in money painting portraits of tourists with the tower in the background.
For this reason, he didn't linger long near it. Ignoring the two employees from the local Ministry of Magic, easily identified by their uniforms, the pair headed on their way, using a small tourist guidebook to explore the city's beauty.
Their next destination was the Louvre, one of the largest art museums in the world.
Although Severus understood little about art, never having really paid attention to it before, he was still curious to see what this world considered its pinnacle.
Soon he stood amid a crowd of awestruck Muggles, all staring at a painting three meters away. It was protected by glass that reflected the glare from other exhibits, and he stared at it, trying to understand.
What is so special about this? he asked himself for the third time. Turning around, he saw a long queue of excited, joyful ordinary people. Squinting, he looked back at the image of a half-turned woman in a dark dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. Apparently, art isn't really my thing. Then again… maybe the fault lies with the living portraits I see every day at Hogwarts. Am I just immune to the so-called magic of ordinary paintings?
His gaze fell upon the radiant face of a young blonde standing to his right, who couldn't take her eyes off the canvas. For a moment, he was tempted to read her thoughts and finally get some answers. So he did.
…when will they relieve me? I'm already fed up with pretending to be interested! Damn! And in this heat, when everyone reeks so badly! The only good thing is that there isn't some old geezer standing next to me, otherwise I definitely wouldn't have survived… With a twitching eyelid, Severus decided to stop there and glanced at the young couple to his left. They were also staring at the painting with undisguised interest, except:
And why did I open my big mouth to suggest a museum! Deadly boredom! I should've just paid extra and taken her to the cinema! But… she seems to like it, so I'll just pretend I'm fascinated. If I don't fall asleep standing up, that is… Putting on his most cheerful smile, the young man looked at his girlfriend, who mirrored it. Little did he know, her thoughts were along the exact same lines:
A museum… a date at a museum… on a weekend, no less… what could be better? I should have made an excuse and gone to the beach with the others. But it's too late now. I just have to endure it and pretend to be interested so I don't hurt his feelings…
Severus then decided to scan the thoughts of the surrounding Muggles, too.
I don't understand a damn thing!
She smiled! I definitely saw it!
She looks exactly like my cousin! Just as ugly!
An unsurpassed masterpiece… That was the solitary thought of a man in his forties, followed by silence.
I wonder what's for dinner today…
What do people even see in her?
Leonardo da Vinci, a genius… he created a true miracle, a miracle of art, wisdom, and mastery… he truly understood the human soul, and that neutral half-smile, shifting into thoughtfulness… warmth and tenderness… ah… magnificent! I'm so glad I decided to visit this museum at the end of my life!
Focusing on that last individual, Severus fixed his gaze on the painting once more, determined to find this "warmth and tenderness." All he saw, however, was a rather plain woman with a half-smile on her lips.
"Art really isn't my thing," he sighed wearily, shaking his head. Withdrawing his Legilimency, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd. As he walked on, he glanced at a few other canvases, but only a handful sparked even a flicker of interest.
"You seemed to like that painting. Why are we leaving?" Nagini asked, puzzled. She couldn't help but notice how intently he had studied the portrait for nearly ten minutes.
"I was just trying to figure out what's so special about it. Why do Muggles from all over the world fly to this country just to see it?"
"And did you figure it out?"
"No. I didn't see anything special about it."
"Well, at least there's something you aren't the best at," she said, her voice practically dripping with satisfaction and a hint of mischief.
"None of us are perfect. With my baggage, I'm about as far from perfect as a round trip on foot from Earth to Jupiter," he replied with a wry smile and a wink. A few seconds later, he stopped in front of a white marble statue of an armless, half-naked woman with a rather pleasing figure. Her lower half was draped in fabric, her upper body bare. "Hmm," he murmured, stroking his chin with the air of a connoisseur. "Strong, yet feminine… such delicate work. Definitely crafted by a true master." The men beside him nodded in agreement, unable to take their eyes off it.
"Hey!"
"All right, all right, I'm just joking," Severus chuckled, gently poking Nagini's disgruntled snout. With a smirk, he pulled a watch from his inner pocket and checked the time. "I say we wrap up here and grab lunch. After that, we can look for a hotel. What do you think?"
"Agreed. How about we skip the restaurant and just eat at the hotel?" She tried to keep her tone casual, but her anxiety and impatience were unmistakable. She simply couldn't wait for the day she could become human again.
"All right. And this evening, if we have time, we can take a walk through nighttime Paris. I hear it's much more beautiful than during the day."
"Mm!" She nodded happily, nuzzling her head against his cheek.
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By four o'clock, after checking into a hotel quite close to the museum, the pair made their way to Rue Rosier. It was one of the most popular spots in Paris, frequented by tourists for its wide variety of fashionable boutiques and street food stalls.
Tucked away in a small house at the very edge of the street lived Nicholas Flamel. He was the greatest alchemist in the world, and the only wizard to have lived for over six hundred years, all thanks to the Philosopher's Stone he had created.
During the Middle Ages, the Philosopher's Stone was a legendary reagent that every Muggle alchemist dreamed of creating, primarily because of its ability to turn any metal into gold.
Of course, the Muggles never managed it; without magical means, it was simply impossible. Even for wizards, who possessed magical resources, it was an incredibly difficult feat.
Yet Flamel had not only managed it, but had even improved upon it. His stone had another extraordinary ability: the creation of the Elixir of Life. As a result, he and his wife were still alive to this day.
The building they lived in didn't look very presentable. In fact, it looked as though it had been abandoned long ago. But the sheer volume of protective charms surrounding it told a very different story.
Even Severus had to admit that sneaking in undetected would take a very long time. There was a small chance he could be discovered in the process.
Even for someone of his caliber, bypassing such a dense weave of charms was no easy feat. It was even harder than infiltrating the Necromancer Community, whose core could at least be tricked.
Here, every single charm was tied directly to one old wizard.
Of course, outright destroying the house's defenses wouldn't have been particularly difficult for him.
But right now, Severus wasn't trying to sneak anywhere. He walked calmly through the barrier, making no effort to hide his presence, and knocked on the door.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Flamel. This is Severus Prince. I've come in response to your invitation," he introduced himself politely.
"Come in, young man. The door is unlocked," a weak, elderly voice called from inside. He grasped the handle, batting away a subtle magical probe trying to scan him. With a sharp click, the door opened, and he stepped calmly inside.
The sight that greeted him next left him stunned. The dilapidated exterior was one thing, perhaps a decent cover, but the interior where the Flamels actually lived was another matter entirely. The bare walls, devoid of wallpaper or any decor, were ravaged by time. Junk littered the floor. Tables were piled high with an assortment of random objects: vials of unknown liquids, plates, a mortar and pestle, scales, crumpled papers, and even a glowing magical sphere.
On either side of the fireplace in the room to the right of the entrance stood only two cabinets. Directly opposite was a black cast-iron stove. A stifling, unpleasant atmosphere hung over the room.
This was certainly not what Severus had expected from the home of one of the wealthiest wizards in the world.
But wizards were notorious eccentrics, and he was living proof of that, so he decided not to dwell on it.
"I'm glad you found the time to visit this old man," a voice drifted down from the second floor, accompanied by a light chuckle, as a figure descended the stairs.
A zombie! Nagini's shocked voice echoed in his mind. It was hard to argue with her assessment. Even Severus felt a jolt of surprise at the sight. It was a far cry from what he had expected of the most legendary alchemist in the world.
Descending the steps at a glacial pace was a withered elderly man. He had shoulder-length, graying hair, but lacked the majestic beard or mustache so typical of wizards his age. His blue eyes, however, were surprisingly lively.
He wore a simple, old-fashioned white shirt under a gray robe that dragged against the floor. Whenever the hem shifted slightly, it revealed a pair of simple white slippers.
Watching the frail, elderly man struggle down the stairs, his agility and mobility long gone along with his youth, Severus felt a surge of mixed emotions.
Logically, encountering a Magister at the height of his power should have shocked him. Instead, he felt only a deep pity for Flamel.
Using a vision-enhancing spell, he peered into the man's magical core. It was riddled with irreversible cracks and gaping holes. It was no longer capable of storing a vast reserve of magical power, which easily explained the alchemist's frail appearance.
Normally, the magical core allowed a wizard to thrive for centuries, even millennia. Once destroyed, a magician would rapidly age into a feeble old man and usually die within seconds.
Knowing this, Severus was no longer surprised by the alchemist's appearance. Instead, he felt a surge of genuine respect.
Even in his original world, creating something like the Philosopher's Stone to prolong life under those conditions would be considered a miracle. It might not rival natural elixirs like honey from sunlight bees or water from a sacred spring, but it easily ranked among the greatest man-made magical creations.
Reaching the ground floor, Flamel slowly set his right foot down and folded his hands before him. He offered Severus an awkward smile, though he also looked incredibly nervous and fidgety.
"Please, take a seat. Let me clear this off," he said. Trembling slightly, he shuffled toward the table with quick, tiny steps. With a wave of his hand, the vials, books, and parchment flew off the surface, quickly replaced by a teapot, two cups, and a sugar bowl.
Strange old man…
Don't I know it… Severus thought, but accepted the invitation and pulled out a chair at the table.
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