The four of us were in the foyer of the ancient bathhouse. Near the Cold Baths was a row of seven fireplaces, all connected to the French floo network. We had stopped there earlier to rest and return to the hotel – which to our surprise had a floo access point – and then used them to return.
'And now we're going to take the Hot Bath entrance to have some tasty food at a super fancy restaurant. Man, this trip has already turned out to be one to remember,' I thought as we walked into the building
L'Dragon Chic, or the Fancy Dragon, was a very expensive, up-scale restaurant. That much was obvious as we approached. A pair of golden dragons of a breed I didn't recognize flanked the entrance. Flames trickled from their nostrils and I had no doubt they were magically animated in some way, and could attack us if we tried anything stupid. The windows were frosted, revealing nothing of the interior save vague shadows of guests, and the name of the restaurant sparkled and flashed above it in the form of small and silent fireworks constantly going off.
Truth be told, all of the shops and storefronts around us had steadily become more elegant and expressive of the wealth their clientele would usually have, and save Delilah, we all felt a bit out of place.
We put up with it, though, as one way or another, we'd be forced to visit such extravagant places in the future. Harry due to his fame, and myself due to my plans for vast amounts of wealth.
As we approached the door, the two dragons turned their heads towards us. While my companions stiffened in surprise, I cleared my throat.
"We're here to dance with red ducks and sing with blue geese," I told the dragons, repeating the password from the note. The dragons' heads turned away from us, and the door swung open, revealing a hallway with a long, red velvet carpet on the other side.
"I'm sure it sounds more elegant in French," Sam assured me as we walked inside.
"Not gonna take that bet," I replied, Delilah and Harry giggling behind my back.
Inside the restaurant, there was nothing to see except a door at the end of the corridor. Knocking on the polished wood, a melodic, "Enter," called out, and we stepped into a private dining room.
There was a single round table in the center of the room, which was quite spacious and had a lot of impressive magical artwork on display. Candles floated in the air, providing light. Six chairs were placed around the table, two of which were already occupied by an old couple.
They looked good, for multi-century old folk. Aside from the pale white skin and hair along with the red eyes which made them look as if they were afflicted by albinism, they seemed as if they were only in their late fifties. Wearing fancy dress robes of their own, they could only be Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle.
"Good evening," the man of the group said in greeting. Remarkably, he had no accent whatsoever, speaking in fluent English. "We've been waiting. Please, take a seat."
"Hello. Thank you for inviting us, Mr. and Mrs. Flamel," Harry said politely, bowing his head respectfully to them, something the rest of us mimicked.
"It is no problem, dear child. We are always happy to entertain guests and meet new people," the woman replied, her voice the same as the one who'd bid us to enter earlier, and also lacking an accent of any kind.
She then clapped her hands, and dinnerware appeared in front of the seats. The plates made of beautiful white porcelain decorated with moving images of stars and clouds in the night sky, while the utensils were made of silver.
We sat down, still a bit nervous at being in their presence, something they noticed.
"Please, be at ease. Browse and order whatever you wish," Nicholas Flamel urged as several fancy menus appeared on our plates. He then raised a finger and said, "1880 White Branch Rosé, if you please."
A wineglass full of fragrant pink wine appeared on the table next to him, and he gave a short nod in thanks, taking a sniff of the drink before sipping at it. As for Perenelle Flamel, she ordered an artisanal beer from Germany.
Inspired by the sight, Sam looked through the menu at the drinks, and asked for a sparkling pineapple cider, while Delilah ordered a fizzy white wine spritzer. I just went for water, wanting a clear head this evening, which Harry also selected.
The options for food were even more extensive than the drinks list, and it took us several minutes before deciding on what we wanted.
"Do House Elves make the food here like at Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously after saying aloud our orders.
"While House Elves do serve in the kitchen and tend to the guests, the actual food is prepared by a variety of chefs. There's a goblin who does an excellent soup, and the Veela in charge of dessert the last time we were here makes one the best Crème Brulé I've ever had," Perenelle happily explained.
"Now that we've sat down and ordered, why don't we chat?" Nicholas suggested, and I nodded.
"Sounds nice," I said, and we began to speak about this and that. It was stilted and hesitant at first, but we slowly warmed up to the couple as they engaged with us, bringing up different topics regarding everything, from mundane history to magical creations.
"...and that's when Renauld stumbled out of the Vanishing Cabinet with his pants around his ankles!" Perenelle giggled. "He was quite surprised to discover that his mistress' artifact led to a royal suite in Versailles!"
"HA!" Sam laughed loudly. "Oh, that's hilarious!"
"What's a Vanishing Cabinet?" Delilah inquired as she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.
"They are a pair of charmed cabinets, wardrobes, or dressers that share the same space. Anything you put inside one cabinet, you can take out through the other," Nicholas explained.
"It also works with people," I added, mentally telling myself to buy a couple of them for my own use. Having what amounted to magical teleporters could only be a good thing.
'And I already know where I can get one,' I mused, thinking of the half of a pair that existed in the Borgin and Burkes pawn shop in Knockturn back home.
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