"This must be Harry Potter." Nicolas Flamel's gaze turned to Harry. "This is our first time meeting. I haven't had the chance to thank you personally for your help in protecting the Philosopher's Stone last year."
Harry quickly said, "It wasn't just my credit, Mr. Flamel. My friends and I protected the stone together."
"Oh, yes," Nicolas Flamel said with a smile. "I must thank your friends as well. Please convey my gratitude to them."
"I will, sir."
The smile on Nicolas Flamel's face gradually faded.
"This farce should come to an end. After I destroyed the Philosopher's Stone, a few fragments retained their magic, but only a small number of them."
"I wrote to several old friends, telling them they could send promising juniors to collect one, but I don't know when the news leaked out. Many people who thought they were on good terms with me actually sent their descendants to find me, hoping to get a fragment from me."
"But in reality, there are only three fragments of the Philosopher's Stone that still retain some effect."
He pulled three red stone fragments from his pocket.
On the surface, the real Philosopher's Stone fragments looked plain and unremarkable, just like ordinary red pebbles on the ground, far less dazzling than the fakes they had seen before.
"You have helped a great deal, so I will give these three fragments to you. This will also save others from coming to me and causing trouble over this."
Nicolas Flamel handed the three fragments to Sherlock. Sherlock did not decline; he took them and looked at the three red stones with some confusion.
"Mr. Flamel, what use do the Philosopher's Stone fragments have?"
Nicolas Flamel explained.
"These fragments still retain some of the properties of the Philosopher's Stone. If you add a fragment while brewing a Potion, it can enhance the effects of the Potion itself. Or, you can soak it in water to create a Potion capable of healing most injuries, which in some respects is even more effective than Phoenix tears."
Understood. The Philosopher's Stone's ability to turn things into gold was gone, and its ability to create the Elixir of Life was greatly diminished, turning it into an auxiliary tool that could only be used for healing.
But even so, these fragments could definitely be called valuable items.
At the very least, if Snape knew about them, he would certainly try every possible way to buy them.
"As for the others who came to Paris for this and were deceived, I will also compensate them with something so they don't leave empty-handed."
After Nicolas Flamel had settled everything, he stood up from the sofa.
"I need to go take care of my wife. Once again, thank you for your help, Sherlock and Harry. When you return to Hogwarts, please give my regards to Albus."
Afterwards, he left the reception room and returned to the magical hospital in Germany through the Ministry of Magic's fireplace.
Afterwards, Harry and Sherlock received a reward from the French Ministry of Magic.
Each received a French Wizard Friendship Medal, which was quite a meaningful souvenir.
After everything was resolved, Sherlock and Harry did not return to Fleur's home to say goodbye.
Instead, they handed one of the Philosopher's Stone fragments to Mr. Delacour, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, and asked him to pass it on to Fleur.
At the Delacour home, Fleur did not wake up until the afternoon.
Mrs. Delacour did not use a revival spell on her but let her sleep a little longer.
Fleur opened her eyes on her bedroom bed, stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, and then suddenly sat up.
She hurriedly put on her slippers, rushed out of the bedroom into the living room, and asked Mrs. Delacour anxiously,
"Mom, why am I at home?"
Mrs. Delacour told her the whole story of how the two scammers were caught that morning and finally took the Philosopher's Stone fragment out of her pocket.
"This was sent back by your father. He said Sherlock asked him to pass it on to you and told me to let you know that if you have a chance to visit Britain in the future, you can look for them. He and Harry would be very happy to be your guides."
Fleur took the Philosopher's Stone fragment from Mrs. Delacour's hand.
She stared blankly at the small red stone in her palm, and after a long while, she came to her senses and asked quietly,
"Are they still in Paris?"
"They seem to have left around noon. I heard from your father that they plan to travel to Sweden and then head directly back to Britain."
Fleur's mood instantly became a complex mix of emotions.
With a somewhat dejected expression, she took the fragment back to her bedroom, lay on the bed, held it up for a long time, and then muttered softly to herself.
"I really wanted to go to Sweden with you..."
...
"Thank you."
After asking someone to take a photo of him and Harry under the Eiffel Tower, Sherlock took the camera back from the passer-by and politely thanked them.
Harry, wearing a sun hat and holding an ice cream cone, walked beside Sherlock.
"Are we still going to the Palace of Versailles next, Professor?"
Sherlock checked the film in the camera, looked at the time on his watch, and pondered for a moment.
"Forget it, it's just a palace. There's nothing particularly special about it. Since it's not too late, let's head straight to the next stop."
"Then what are we having for dinner? Foie gras? Roasted pork knuckle? Or maybe steak?"
"Eat, eat, eat. If you keep eating like this, you're going to become just like your cousin."
"Since you've said that, Professor, I definitely won't become like that!"
"Hey, are you talking back to me now?"
They returned to the car, and Sherlock spread out a map to look for their next stop.
"We should be able to reach Troyes by 7 PM, stay the night there, head directly to Lyon tomorrow, and arrive in Geneva the day after."
Sherlock confirmed their upcoming itinerary, but Harry turned pale upon hearing it.
This was the first time during the trip that Sherlock had made such a detailed plan and actually said it out loud!
"Professor, haven't you noticed that sometimes the things you expect often end up with results opposite to what you predicted?"
Harry carefully chose his words, trying to explain the fact that Professor Cavendish's words seemed to act like a jinx.
Sherlock understood the implication and stared at him speechlessly.
"What? Do you think my mouth attracts trouble?"
Harry hesitated for a moment and then nodded cautiously.
"In a sense, yes."
"I remember you all thought the same thing when we were fighting the Basilisk, right? Begging me to shut up and all that. As students of a magic school, it's one thing not to believe in magic, but why would you believe in such metaphysical nonsense?"
Sherlock complained while driving onto the road.
He genuinely couldn't understand why Harry and the others thought his words were a jinx. Although some things were coincidental, one shouldn't treat coincidences as laws.
Seeing that Sherlock still didn't believe him, Harry remained persistent.
He still had to travel with Sherlock for quite some time. If he didn't clear things up, and Sherlock suddenly said, "I believe you'll definitely live a healthy and happy life, Harry," then Harry might as well go find a graveyard and bury himself in advance.
"If you don't believe me, we can do an experiment!"
Harry pointed to a bird flying in the sky and asked Sherlock,
"Do you think this bird can land safely on a branch?"
Sherlock looked at the bird gliding through the air and shrugged.
"It's not injured, and it's not stupid enough to fly onto the road. Why wouldn't it be able to land safely on a tree?"
"Since you've said that, Professor, it's about to have an accident!"
Looking at Harry's serious expression, Sherlock suspected that, while he wasn't paying attention, Harry had somehow been hit by a strange curse that had fried his brain.
He pulled the car over. Today, he was determined to prove himself right.
The two of them got out of the car, one tall and one small, crouching by the roadside and staring at the bird in the sky.
The bird seemed to be a wild goose that had strayed from its flock. It flapped its wings and circled overhead for several minutes before finally, under the watchful eyes of Sherlock and Harry, landing on a sturdy tree by the roadside.
Harry was completely stunned.
The script definitely shouldn't have gone like this!
He turned to stare at Sherlock, and Sherlock also turned to stare at him, his expression clearly asking whether he had anything else to say.
"No!" Harry argued loudly. "This time it must be because the probability of it landing safely was too high! Let's try again!"
He looked around and soon spotted another bird in the sky.
"Say it honestly, Professor. Do you think that bird can land safely?"
Sherlock stared at the owl drawing closer and muttered to himself,
"Not only do I think this bird can land safely, but I also feel like it's looking for us."
The next second, the owl glided down, flew to their side, and landed on the roof of the car.
Harry was completely dumbfounded, unable to say a word for a long time.
The script had changed!
The Professor wasn't just not a jinx; he had become a master of prophecy!(TN: That's good. Hopefully that subplot is over.)
Sherlock ignored Harry's bewildered reaction, took the letter from the owl, opened it, and quickly scanned through it.
Finally, his brows furrowed deeply, and he folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket.
After seeing that he had received the letter, the owl spread its wings again and flew into the sky.
Sherlock grabbed Harry, who looked as dazed as a puppet, and pulled him into the car.
"There's been some unexpected trouble, Harry. I'm afraid our trip has to end here!"