Wherever Wizards gather, there is bound to be a pub.
Having lived in the Wizarding World for a year, Sherlock had always felt that this extraordinary world, in terms of both social structure and customs, was actually a full century behind the Muggle world.
For instance, in the Wizarding World, the Revealing Potion that could bring figures in photographs to life had been invented for so long, yet no Wizard had ever thought to apply it to other areas.
Like filming a short movie or something.
Therefore, under normal circumstances, Wizards' recreational activities were extremely scarce.
When young, one could play Quidditch, but in old age, during leisure time, one could only sit in a pub, have a couple of drinks, and brag to others.
This resulted in the fact that wherever there was a magical street, there was bound to be a pub.
Because opening a pub in the Wizarding World was truly very profitable.
Fleur led Sherlock and Harry through the door into a pub named "Astrology", which was rumoured to have been opened by a retired Unspeakable from the French Ministry of Magic out of boredom, and some of the food inside tasted quite good.
"Are you heading back to Britain after visiting Mr. Flamel? Don't you plan to stay and play for a couple more days?" Fleur asked, feigning indifference while swirling the orange juice in her glass with a straw.
With Sherlock present, he naturally wouldn't let these two minors drink alcohol; in fact, to set an example, he didn't drink any either, opting for a glass of lemonade instead.
"We plan to continue on to Sweden," Sherlock said, formulating a plan on the fly. "After all, it's not easy to get out, and originally Harry and I intended to go to Sweden first before coming to Paris, but after picking you up on the way, we came here directly on a whim."
Harry naturally had no objections to Sherlock's arrangements; he was fine with going anywhere, and the later he returned to the Dursley residence, the better.
Fleur struggled as if wanting to make a request, but just as she had finally gathered the resolve to speak after fidgeting for a long time, a voice suddenly called her name from beside her.
"Senior Delacour!"
They turned their heads and saw that the person speaking to Fleur was a girl with freckles on her face.
"I didn't expect to run into you here," she said delightedly.
Fleur, however, looked at her face with a blank expression.
"Who are you?"
"I'm a fifth-year student at Beauxbatons—Marlene Criel. You might not know me, Senior, but I've always admired you!" she said, her eyes shining.(TN: Fleur is in her 6th year.)
There were quite a few students at Beauxbatons, and while Fleur couldn't possibly know everyone, there was almost no one in the school who didn't know her.
Her unique appearance, inherited from her Veela bloodline, had always made her the centre of attention among the students.
"Hello, Criel. Is your home also in Paris?"
Although Fleur didn't want to chat with others while having afternoon tea with Sherlock and the others, she was a junior from her own school after all, and since she had come over to greet her, it wouldn't be polite to ignore her completely, so she just asked a random question to be polite.
The girl named Criel shook her head.
"No, an elder in my family gave me a letter of introduction, telling me to come to Paris to find Mr. Flamel. But when I went to Mr. Flamel's house, I found he wasn't there; he left a message saying he wouldn't be back until tomorrow, so I came to Long Lane Street to find a place to stay, and I never expected to run into Senior Delacour here. How lucky!"
Hearing her words, Sherlock and Harry quietly exchanged a look, while Fleur said in surprise.
"Are you also here to find Mr. Flamel?"
"Are you going to visit Mr. Flamel too, Senior?" Criel looked pleasantly surprised. She raised her wrist, clenched her left hand into a fist, and her sleeve slid down slightly, revealing a small section of her arm. "Then can we go visit together tomorrow? We can meet in front of Mr. Flamel's house."
Sherlock watched her arm, and his brow furrowed involuntarily.
Fleur naturally had no objections to her small request.
"We will arrive at Mr. Flamel's house at nine o'clock tomorrow morning; you can join us for the visit."
"Thank you, Senior. Then I won't disturb you and your friends' afternoon tea. Goodbye."
Criel seemed to have noticed Sherlock's strange gaze; she pulled her sleeve back into place and then took her leave.
Sherlock watched her retreating figure with a thoughtful expression.
Harry looked at him in confusion.
"What's wrong, Professor?"
Sherlock came back to his senses, shook his head, and said nothing.
He seemed to have seen a tattoo on that girl's arm that matched the emblem on the necklace worn by the Wizard named Jonathan.
It might be a coincidence, or he might have misread it, but Sherlock silently imprinted the emblem in his mind, planning to go to the bookstore on Long Lane Street later to search for information and recall where he had seen that emblem before.
"By the way, what were you about to say earlier?" Sherlock turned to look at Fleur, signalling that she could continue with what she hadn't finished saying.
"No, nothing."
However, at this moment, Fleur was like a deflated balloon and no longer had the resolve she had earlier to say what she wanted to say.
They sat in the pub for a while longer, after which Sherlock went to the bookstore on Long Lane Street to look for books, while Harry and Fleur stayed in the pub to eat and wait for him.
However, even after waiting until dark, Sherlock still hadn't found which book he had seen that emblem in.
Finally, he could only leave Long Lane Street with this question, drive, and take Harry and Fleur back to the Delacour Manor.
Naturally, Sherlock and Harry would be staying at Fleur's house tonight.
Mrs. Delacour had already prepared a sumptuous dinner, and Fleur's father had also finished work at the Ministry of Magic and had dinner with them.
Mr. Delacour was a witty man; he chatted with Sherlock about many interesting things regarding the French Ministry of Magic and also asked him about teaching life at Hogwarts.
The meal was enjoyed by both host and guests, and the House-elf, Chekley, had already prepared two guest rooms, so Harry and Sherlock went to bed early.
Tomorrow, they not only had to visit Nicolas Flamel again but also tour Paris.
The next day, just as dawn broke, Sherlock woke up right on time.
The biological clock he had developed at Hogwarts was maintained even during the holidays.
After waking up and washing up, he left the manor, went for a run on the path outside, and then returned.
Mrs. Delacour was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Although their family had House-elves, perhaps out of a hobby, the meals the family ate were usually prepared by Fleur's mother herself.
The little girl, Gabrielle, was walking out of her bedroom with sleepy eyes. Seeing Sherlock, she greeted him in a tone that clearly indicated she hadn't fully woken up yet.
"Good morning, Mister Sherlock."
"Good morning."
Sherlock patted her head.
"Why are you up so early?"
"Mom said she's taking me to the garden to find Gnomes today," Gabrielle said, her voice becoming cheerful. "After you catch those Gnomes, you have to throw them really far away! Otherwise, it won't be long before they come back to cause trouble in the garden."
"Then you have to do your best."
While Sherlock was chatting with Gabrielle, Fleur walked out of her bedroom, stretching.
She seemed a bit groggy from sleep and had forgotten that there were more people in the house now than just her, her sister, and her mother. Her pyjamas rode up with her arms, revealing a patch of dizzyingly white, smooth skin on her slender waist.
Sherlock turned his head away as if nothing had happened and went to Harry's bedroom to wake him up.
Fleur later realised her earlier unseemly action. She didn't act like a coy little girl but instead held her head up with a proud expression.
However, the faint blush that covered her cheeks clearly showed that her inner state was far from the composure she was currently displaying.
Harry was dragged out of bed by Sherlock.
Ever since he was taken out of the Dursley residence by Sherlock, his appetite had grown larger and larger, and he had become increasingly fond of sleeping in.
"Stop sleeping; we've got a busy day ahead."
Harry gave a listless reply. With hair like a bird's nest, he fumbled for his glasses by the bed and then went to the bathroom to wash up.
Breakfast was toast and grilled sausages.
Mrs. Delacour's cooking was excellent; the taste of the toast was no worse than the meal Sherlock and Harry had eaten at Beauxbatons.
After breakfast, they formally bid farewell to Mrs. Delacour.
After visiting Nicolas Flamel with Fleur and spending a day touring Paris, they would leave, with no plans to return to the Delacour Manor during that time.
As they left, Gabrielle held her mother's hand and waved goodbye to them, and Mrs. Delacour invited them to come and stay at their house again the next time they visited France.
Sherlock took Harry and Fleur with him to head to Nicolas Flamel's residence once again.
On the way, Fleur asked them hesitantly,
"Are you really not planning to stay another night at my house tonight?"
Sherlock said casually while driving.
"No. When I brought Harry out, I made an agreement with his aunt. I only brought him out for two or three weeks; if we keep staying in Paris, there won't be enough time to go to Sweden."
Harry said resentfully.
"Actually, Professor, you don't necessarily have to send me home so punctually."
"I hate people who don't keep their word, so I won't be one myself. You'd better honestly be an honest child for me; don't think about hiding things from adults the first moment something happens."
Sherlock lectured Harry, and Harry listened obediently.
Although this trip undoubtedly greatly brought Harry and Sherlock closer, he still remembered that this was his most respected Professor, and he didn't start acting recklessly just because they had become familiar.
Fleur sat in the back with a straight face, listening to their conversation. For some reason, she seemed to be in a bad mood.
But neither Sherlock nor Harry paid much attention to it; girls, after all, have those few days every month. If she were cheerful every day, that would be the strange thing.
Before they even reached Nicolas Flamel's house, Sherlock and the others saw from a distance that several people dressed as Wizards were already loitering around the area.
Harry said, puzzled.
"Why don't they go in? Hasn't Mr. Flamel returned yet?"
Sherlock parked the car on the side of the road and walked with Harry and Fleur to the front of Nicolas Flamel's house.
The people loitering in front of the door were clearly all Wizards.
They were wearing robes, and some were even undisguisedly wearing pointed hats. If it weren't for the Muggle-Repelling Charm near the residence, it would probably have attracted quite a crowd.
Fleur looked among those Wizards but did not find the junior from her school, Criel, whom she had met in the pub yesterday.
Sherlock found a Wizard to ask about the situation.
"Mr. Flamel has returned. Just a moment ago, a House-elf came out and told us to wait outside for a bit; Mr. Flamel will come out to receive us once he's ready."
"Come out to receive us?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.
"Yes, because all of us who came to visit happened to arrive at the same time, and Mr. Flamel's house isn't big enough, so he has to come out to entertain us."
After thanking the Wizard, Sherlock returned to Harry and Fleur's side.
"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 in front of the door; at a rough glance, there were about a dozen of them.
"Even if there are many people visiting Mr. Flamel, why did they all gather to come on the same day?"
Fleur thought for a moment and said, "Maybe some people came very early and didn't see Mr. Flamel, but saw the message he left on the doorplate, so they waited until today, and they just happened to all gather together."
They stood in front of the door and waited for a while longer, but Fleur still didn't see Criel.
Sherlock shrugged and said,
"Maybe she had something come up at the last minute and was delayed."
Just as Sherlock finished speaking, an elderly man with white hair came out from Flamel's courtyard and opened the gate.
The Wizards waiting in front of the door crowded around.
"Mr. Flamel!"
They addressed him respectfully.
This was the first time Sherlock had seen this Wizard with his own eyes, who, in a sense, was even more famous than Dumbledore.
Nicolas Flamel was a Wizard born in France in the 14th century.
With his miraculous alchemy skills, he created the Philosopher's Stone, a magical product capable of turning stone into gold and creating the Elixir of Life.
And relying on this, he and his wife had lived from the 14th century until now.
Whether in the Wizarding World or among Muggles, legends about him were passed down.
As the first and only person in history to have created the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel was an iconic figure among Wizarding communities in any country; there were few Wizards who hadn't grown up listening to his legends.
Therefore, after learning that he had destroyed the Philosopher's Stone and planned to give away the fragments, Wizards who had once been acquainted with him sent their descendants over, hoping to obtain a piece.
And these young Wizards, upon meeting Flamel in person, also showed great respect.
Sherlock and the other two didn't immediately crowd around like the others; Fleur frowned as she watched the visitors.
"Jonathan hasn't come over either."
"Is that the Wizard you suspect is related to the Goblin who stole your wand?"
"Yes, when we first met, he used the excuse that he also wanted to visit Mr. Flamel as a reason to hope to travel with me. But I don't know why, he didn't come today either."