Victor and Adele walked through Place Cachée — the magical heart of Paris. Instead of the cramped brick alleys of London, there were wide paved boulevards covered by enchanted glass domes that reflected the soft light of the evening sun. Wizards in long silk robes passed by, and the scent of lavender sugar and fresh croissants, which practically jumped into customers' hands, drifted from the bakery windows.
Victor was examining the artifacts displayed in the shop windows until Adele insistently tugged on his sleeve.
— What is it? — he turned to her.
The girl pointed a finger at a neighboring shop, where elegant lacquered brooms rested on velvet stands.
— Why are they selling brooms in such beautiful frames?
Victor couldn't help but smirk.
— Those aren't just brooms for sweeping streets. Those are magical brooms; people fly through the sky on them.
— Fly? For real? — her eyes widened.
— Yeah. It's pretty cool, though it has its downsides, — Victor chuckled. — If you fly for a long time, your backside starts to hurt, and your legs get so stiff that you can barely walk afterward. Sitting on a stick isn't exactly comfortable; I nearly crushed my balls once.
— Well, why have you two stopped there? — Perenelle turned and waved her hand at them. — We still have a ton of things to buy on the list. If we hurry and finish quickly, you can have a proper look around.
Victor took Adele by the hand and followed Perenelle into the wand shop. Unlike Ollivander's shop, where boxes were piled almost on the floor, here there was perfect order. Every shelf sparkled with cleanliness, and the cases lay in even rows, like in a pharmacy.
— Madame Flamel! What an honor, welcome, — a short Frenchman stepped out from behind the counter. — How may I be of service?
— Hello, Jean. We need to find a wand for this young lady.
After all the measurements and trials, Adele finally received her wand. Out of curiosity, Victor asked to see the purchase, and the girl handed him the box. Looking at the packaging, he noticed a familiar crest.
— Were these wands made by the Ollivander family? — Victor asked in surprise.
— Yes, — Perenelle replied. — His family has been making the best wands for centuries, and they sell them all over Europe.
— Are you saying that old man is filthy rich?
— I said he makes the best wands in the world, — Perenelle corrected him.
— Well, that means he's rich, — Victor insisted, returning the box to Adele. — You wouldn't know it by looking at him, though... He looks like he fights for a crust of bread in a dumpster every day.
Perenelle shook her head and glanced at her watch.
— Alright, let's wrap this up. We need to get to the tailor; I've already made an appointment and I don't want to be late.
— To the tailor? — Victor smirked, looking at Adele. — Well, you're lucky. You'll have a personal tailor, like a real princess.
Perenelle just rolled her eyes.
— Look who's talking! You're dressed so luxuriously yourself that any aristocrat would be envious.
Victor laughed cheerfully:
— Thank you. I try to look decent.
When they left the shop and followed Perenelle, Adele began to study Victor's clothes closely. To her, it looked like a regular suit — nothing she would call "luxury." No gold buttons, no sparkles.
Perenelle noticed her confusion and smiled:
— Don't be fooled, Adele. His clothes are from Savile Row. It's the best tailor shop in England; they sew clothes for the wealthiest people and lords. A suit like that costs about five thousand pounds sterling. To make it clearer for you — that's about fifty thousand francs.
Adele's eyes went wide. She knew her father's salary was nine thousand francs a month. That meant Victor's suit cost as much as six months of her father's work! She shot him a cold look.
— Spendthrift!
But Victor only laughed in response, looking quite satisfied.
When they entered the atelier, they were met by an elegantly dressed woman with a pincushion on her wrist.
— Perenelle, darling! So good to see you! — she approached and gave her guest a warm hug.
— Hello, Colette. You look better and better every time.
— Oh, thank you, — the tailor shifted her gaze to Adele. — And is this the little beauty who needs to be prepared for school?
— Yes, this is Adele. Do your best for her, please.
— You wound me! Have I ever done poor work? — then Colette winked slyly at Victor. — And does the boy want to order a new uniform for his studies?
Victor settled himself languidly on a bench.
— No, thank you. The boy already has everything ordered.
— Are you sure? I sew the best school robes in Paris.
— Well, if it's not too much trouble for you to sew a Hogwarts uniform, I suppose I wouldn't mind, — he replied after a moment's thought.
— Oh, so you're from England? — Colette nodded. — No problem at all! We'll take this little one's measurements first and then tend to you.
She flicked her wand, and a measuring tape appeared out of thin air. The tape flew toward Adele, but the girl immediately stepped aside, keeping her eyes fixed on Victor. The tailor looked questioningly at Perenelle.
— Adele, it's alright. She just needs to take your measurements, — Perenelle said gently.
But Adele was still looking at Victor.
— We... we aren't going to the same school?
Victor shook his head:
— No. I study in England, and you will go here, in France.
Adele frowned. Victor immediately realized where this was going.
— Haaa... Adele, listen. It's better for you to go to Beauxbatons. In England, no one is going to teach in French specifically for you.
— I know English, — she suddenly said clearly in English. — My mother was from England.
Victor stared at her cute, stubborn face for a long time and burst out laughing.
— Fine... — he turned to the tailor. — Two full sets of Hogwarts uniforms, please.
Perenelle just shook her head.
— Very well. I'll write to Maxime today and inform her that Adele won't be enrolling.
— Thank you, — Victor nodded. — And I'll settle things with Dumbledore. Damn, that old man will definitely ask for something in return... Well, whatever, we'll deal with that later.
Having finished all the shopping, they wandered through the festive streets of Paris a bit longer and returned home by evening. Victor changed immediately and headed to the workshop. Nicolas Flamel was already there.
— Back? How did it go? — the old man asked without turning around.
— Successfully. Though plans have changed slightly: Adele will be studying with me, at Hogwarts.
Flamel only gave a short nod — he had guessed it would turn out that way; the girl had grown too attached to Victor.
Victor approached the workbench and placed the diary in front of the alchemist.
— Help me with this. Please.
Nicolas gave an ironic smirk, glancing at the book.
— Help? What happened to "My projects are my work, I'll do it all myself"?
— That still stands, — Victor replied seriously. — Just don't you dare steal my ideas again.
Flamel huffed and, out of curiosity, took the diary. As he read, his expression shifted: the irony vanished, replaced by heavy concentration. The alchemist's eyebrows shot up.
— What kind of madness is this? — he asked in a low voice, not stopping his reading.
— Eyes. Legendary eyes... Help me bring them to life.
Flamel looked at Victor grimly.
— And how do you imagine this? How am I supposed to do this, in your opinion?
— What do you mean, how? — Victor spread his arms. — You are the greatest alchemist with centuries of experience, the creator of the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life. I don't think these eyes will be any more difficult.
— Let's say, — Flamel squinted. — Suppose I manage to create them. But where are you going to find the fool who would agree to have them implanted?
— Oh, I already have a suitable candidate who's dreaming of getting them, — Victor nodded confidently.
Flamel only sighed heavily.
— My answer is no. Do you have any idea what kind of power would be contained within them? That power would simply tear you apart.
— My body is reinforced with Obrux, and with every year I only grow stronger. I can handle it, — Victor replied calmly.
— You might survive, but it could leave you a cripple, and I will not take that responsibility, — Flamel snapped, handing the diary back.
At that moment, the workshop door creaked, and Adele walked in. She was clutching a first-year charms textbook to her chest, and in her other hand, she gripped her new wand. After greeting Flamel, she looked at Victor.
— Can you help me? — she asked.
— Of course. Go up to my room, — Victor smiled. — I'll be there in a moment.
Adele nodded and left. Victor headed for the exit and threw over his shoulder:
— I take responsibility for my own decisions. I only ask one thing of you — figure out how to create them.
With those words, he left, leaving Flamel alone with the diary.
When he entered the room, Adele was already sitting on the bed, vigorously waving her wand in the air.
— Lumos! — she shouted, but the tip of the wood remained dark.
Victor took out his own wand and sat beside her.
— Easy, don't rush. Relax, — he said softly. — First, try to feel the magic inside you passing through your arm directly into the wand. And it's not necessary to wave it so hard, look.
He made a barely perceptible movement of his wrist.
— Lumos.
A steady, bright light immediately flared at the tip of his wand, illuminating the room with a warm glow.