Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 815

Molly Weasley, who had hardly ever traveled far from home, was captivated by this bustling and lively scene.

Even Harry and Ron were taken aback.

“Perhaps you could start by persuading Nicholas Flamel.” Tierra smiled, then casually lifted a jacket from his arm, glanced at the time, and said, “Oh, sorry, friends, I have something to attend to, I must go now—”

After saying that, Tiera vanished from the spot.

"Hey! Wait a minute, Tyella!" Harry asked, puzzled. "Where—should we go find Nicholas Flamel first?"

Before Harry could finish speaking, Tyella vanished.

"Tearella is such a pain!" Harry said with some dissatisfaction. "It's always the same. She disappears halfway through her sentence."

"Relax, Harry, aren't you used to it yet?" Hermione sighed helplessly, then patted Harry on the shoulder. "Isn't that how the Tyrells are? Always in a hurry, always acting mysterious."

“Perhaps you could try asking the French Ministry of Magic,” Fleur Delacour suggested, who hadn’t said much until now. “Nicole Flamel is the most powerful alchemist alive today, and the French Ministry of Magic has his address on file.”

“Great idea!” Ron nodded in agreement.

“But we’ve lost the Philosopher’s Stone,” Hermione said, somewhat dejectedly. “What reason do we have to look for Nicholas Flamel?”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, and then Harry decided to speak.

“Perhaps we can tell the French Ministry of Magic the truth,” Harry suggested. “We can just say that we’ve lost the Philosopher’s Stone that Mr. Tyrell gave to Nicolas Flamel, and then ask them to help us find Nicolas Flamel.”

"Good idea." Hermione pondered for a moment, and finally could only nod helplessly.

"What does Tyella mean by starting with Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione asked again. "How does he want us to persuade Nicholas Flamel? What do he want us to persuade Nicholas Flamel about?"

"Should we move him to England?" Ron interjected uncertainly.

“Hey hey hey, kids, kids.” At this moment, Mr. Weasley nudged his son, Ron Weasley, and said, “We can think about it as we walk.”

“What I mean is, with so many of us gathered here, it’s already starting to attract attention.”

"Huh?" Hermione looked up and glanced around.

Sure enough, pedestrians on the Champs-Élysées couldn't help but glance at them as they passed by.

The reason for this is that Mr. Weasley and Weasley Fleur's outfits were too retro.

Both Mr. Weasley and Weasley Fleur were wearing ankle-length, light brown trench coats.

Even under the bright sunshine of Paris in July, she still wrapped herself up tightly.

Mr. Weasley was wearing a very elegant London hat, while Mrs. Weasley's brown curly hair was tied up with a very old-fashioned lace hairpin.

The two of them looked like they had stepped out of a movie from fifty years ago.

This outfit is extremely rare on the streets of Paris, the fashion capital.

“Alright, children, let’s go.” Mr. Weasley seemed a little hot, took off his hat to fan himself, and then pushed Harry, Ron, and Hermione forward. “Oh, right, Miss Delacour, you know this place well, would you mind taking us to the French Ministry of Magic?” Mr. Weasley asked politely.

“With pleasure.” Fleur Delacour also took Bill Weasley’s arm. “By the way, Mr. Weasley, just call me Fleur. Bill and I are engaged, so there’s no need for such formality.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked nervously through the Champs-Élysées, then meandered for a while before finally arriving at a very spacious square hidden in a residential area.

In the very center of the square was a telephone booth that appeared to be cast in bronze.

—It blends ancient and modern aesthetics.

"Why does every visitor entrance to the Ministry of Magic have to be made like a telephone booth?" Hermione, who had been led to the square by Fleur Delacour, couldn't help but roll her eyes and complain.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the building, and they were awestruck by this place hidden in the residential area. It was a massive building, resembling an ancient castle, exuding an air of mystery.

"Why does every visitor entrance to the Ministry of Magic have to be made to look like a telephone booth?" Hermione couldn't help but complain.

“Perhaps it’s to maintain contact with the non-magical world,” Harry guessed.

"Maybe it's to save trouble?" Ron guessed.

“Because the design and construction of the Ministries of Magic in Britain, France, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland were all spearheaded by the same wizard and that wizard’s apprentice.” Delacour led them into the openwork bronze telephone booth, dialing a number as he spoke. “This is part of the history of magic, something you should have studied.”

"Huh?" Harry looked at Ron with some confusion.

"Huh??" Ron looked at Hermione with a puzzled expression—

How could this supposedly all-knowing Hermione not know this?
“We haven’t learned that,” Hermione retorted, not to be outdone. “I swear, it’s not even in our history of magic textbook!”

"That's strange. Which version are you studying?" Fleur Delacour asked curiously.

“The seventh edition,” Hermione replied immediately.

“We are the twenty-third edition,” Fleur Delacour said. “No wonder.”

Fleur Delacour had finished dialing when a slight tremor was heard. When they opened the door again, they found themselves standing in the hall of the French Ministry of Magic.

The hall was spacious and bright, with exquisite oil paintings and ancient scrolls hanging on the walls. The floor was covered with a luxurious carpet, and a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling emitted a soft glow.

On both sides are tall arched doorways decorated with ornate murals, leading to the office areas of various departments.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione could see French wizards hurrying by, dressed in colorful robes, carrying magical suitcases and their animal companions.

There were some seating areas set up in the hall for people to wait to conduct business or communicate with other wizards, but they were all empty.

They walked toward the reception desk, where a wizard in a blue robe sat.

"Welcome to the French Ministry of Magic." The wizard in the blue robe first flipped through the thick book open in front of him, then asked in heavily accented English, "I don't see any appointments for you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

(End of this chapter)