Summary: In what could only be described as an act of God, Sirius manages to convince Dumbledore to let him take Harry out of the country for his summer vacation before Fifth Year. To just get away from the dangers of Britain and see the world in peace, even if it's only for a couple months. A nice trip to Paris, perhaps a day or two in Beijing? How about Rome, Uganda, or Brazil? With magic and adventure hidden around every corner, what wonders await, especially when your name is Harry James Potter.


Harry Potter and the World of Magic

~ Chapter Four ~

~ One Week Earlier ~

The finest of Italian leather clacked against polished marble floors as a man, garbed in black silk robes, walked down an empty hallway with purpose in every step. A flick of his wand, and the doors baring his path swung open, granting entrance to an ornate office where another man, similarly dressed, sat in waiting.

"Lucius."

The Englishman took a seat. "Marcel."

"It has been many years since we last had the pleasure of your presence," Marcel drawled. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Come now, Marcel, must we entertain your theatrics? You know why I'm here."

"So… He has returned? Truly?"

"Is it really so surprising? No one, not Salazar Slytherin or Merlin himself, has pushed magic as far as him."

"Perhaps, but that does not answer my question." The man leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Why are you here? What does the Dark Lord want from me?"

"The Dark Lord wishes for you to join him and embrace the cause you know to be true. In exchange, he will-"

"Do not try that useless dribble on me, Lucius!" Marcel snapped, cutting the Englishman off. "Despite the front you show for the masses, you and I both know that you are not a true believer of Pureblood Supremacy. Not like the Blacks or Parkinsons. The only thing you and your family cares about is power."

"Don't you mean our family?"

"Hmph… We may both be Malfoys, but unlike you, I do not have to grovel before another to maintain my power. And I most certainly do not have a slave brand on my arm."

Lucius's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tongue, Marcel…"

"Or what? I am not your lesser, Lucius," the man snapped back. "You know I speak nothing but the truth."

"If that is what you believe, then you are a fool! You fail to understand the situation as I do."

"Oh? Then by all means, enlighten me."

"Change is coming, whether the world is ready or not. The Dark Lord will succeed in his crusade, not because of his power or the size of his following, but because he has conquered death itself! Do you understand that, Marcel? He. Cannot. Die!" Lucius spat, slamming his hands on the desk to emphasize his words. "It does not matter if I am a fanatic like Bellatrix or someone who simply acknowledges that purebloods are better than mudbloods. What matters is that the Dark Lord cannot die, and a wizard who cannot die is one who will inevitably win!"

Marcel blinked, stunned at the sudden venom and vitriol behind his distant cousin's words.

"Do not think for one second that I am blind to what you say… I am no fool. But if taking his mark is the price I must pay to ensure my power and standing is secured when he wins, then I will gladly pay it. The question is… will you?"

Silence fell between them as Marcel took a moment to consider his guest's words. Eventually, the man drew his wand and flicked it at the cabinet behind him, summoning two glasses already filled with wine to his desk. He handed one to Lucius. "Very well. What would the Dark Lord ask of me?"

"You hold sway among the most important families and circles in this country," the Englishman answered, taking a moment to indulge in a mouthful of wine. The smooth flavors did wonders in calming his earlier anger. "We would have you speak on the Dark Lord's behalf and convince them that siding with us would be the most… beneficial choice for the future."

"Doable, but it will take time."

"And you will have it. Fortunately for you, it will be some months before any of you are summoned. The Dark Lord recognizes the importance of biding his time. It is why he has not yet announced his return from death, save for his most trusted few and those truly committed to the cause."

"A wise decision on his part," Marcel nodded. "I will get started immediately. As luck would have it, I have a dinner with Isabelle Millefeuille planned for tomorrow night. She is sympathetic to the cause. I will owl you her reply after."

"No need," Lucius said, standing. "The Dark Lord has requested that I remain in Paris for the summer and assist you by any means necessary."

Marcel's jaw tightened. "Oh? And where will you be staying?"

"Why, here of course," the Englishman replied, not even bothering to hide the smirk that snaked its way across his lips. "I will also be attending that dinner."

"You-!" The man clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "If that is the Dark Lord's will, then fine, you may stay, but I am not sure attending the dinner is a good idea, Lucius. Your reputation precedes you, even here."

"I am aware. And I am counting on that to assist us in our… negotiations."

~ Scene Break ~

~ Present Day ~

"Welcome to… The Lair!"

"Was the dramatic pause really necessary, Harry?"

"Yes. Yes, it was."

"It's only been a week and you're already picking up Sirius's quirks. Merlin help us for when we get back to Hogwarts. You're going to drive everyone up the wall," Hermione sighed in fond exasperation. The two of them had just spent the day exploring Place Cachée and all the various shops, restaurants, and sights that filled the wizarding community. It was similar to Diagon Alley, but had a distinctive French feel to it, being less cramped and having enough space for outdoor eating areas and the many vendors offering their wares. All in all, it was a fun and relaxing way for the two teenagers to unwind after the previous night's event at the Louvre, but that didn't stop Hermione from insisting that they take a detour to the Catacombs after hearing the full story over afternoon brunch. "And seriously? The Lair? That's the best name you can think of for this place?"

"Oi! I'm not the one who named it!"

"Then who did?"

"Sirius."

"Of course it'd be him. Why didn't you just call it the Catacombs or the Ossuary? Isn't that more fitting?"

"Raquel actually suggested both of those names, but your uncle shot them down. He said those names would just point people to where this place is."

The brunette frowned. "I guess that makes sense. I still think it could use a better name though."

"If you think of one, feel free to tell them."

"Knowing Sirius, he'd refuse just to mess with me," Hermione grumbled, as she looked around. "Okay, let me get this straight. You were the one who found this place during a tour of the Catacombs, right?"

"I'm still not really clear how it happened, but yeah."

"And while trying to find your way out, you somehow met the supposed real inventor of the pensieve and had to fight your way through an army of inferi that he could somehow control beyond the grave."

"That bloody ghost was the one who sicced them on me! He thought I was stealing from him and didn't give me a chance to explain!"

"Didn't you end up stealing his stuff anyways?"

"That's not the point," Harry pouted. "And besides, that wasn't my idea. It was Léon's."

"Only you, Harry. This kind of stuff only happens to you."

"It's not like I go looking for this kind of stuff!"

"I know that, Harry, but who else would end up in that kind of situation?! You're a trouble magnet the size of London! It's a wonder how you haven't accidentally knocked over the Eiffel Tower or something."

"Oh, come on! Nothing that bad has ever happened!"

"I bet you twenty galleons that you'll cause something of that scale before the summer's over."

Surely something that bad wouldn't happen… right? "You're on."

Oh Harry… You poor, delusional fool.

"What's this, Harry?"

The teen looked up. "That's the target range. Sirius and I practice spells there."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's right! You mentioned that you learned a new spell! What is it? What does it do? Where did you learn it? Did you get it from the Catacombs?"

"In order, it's the Fireball Curse, it pretty much does exactly what it sounds like, I learned it from an old duelist manual, and yes, the book came from the Catacombs."

"Well? Come on! Let's see it then!"

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't hesitate to draw his wand and slowly go through the wand movements for the girl to see. "Ignemitta!"

Despite having expected it, Hermione couldn't quite contain the surprised yelp that escaped her lips upon seeing the blazing conflagration that exploded out of Harry's wand. The fireball soared across the room and slammed into the nearest target, burning a black mark across its length. "Wow," the girl breathed, mesmerized by the embers still crackling along the target's edge. Then her insatiable thirst for knowledge took over and she turned to her best friend. "Teach me." She drew her wand. "Now."

Harry barely contained his snort at the girl's predictable demand. "You do know it's almost a quarter to five, right?"

"So?"

"We're supposed to be back at Place Cachée in fifteen minutes."

"Plenty of time. We're not that far away."

"But-"

"Now, what were the wand movements again? It was a circle followed by a flick, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Pretty sure you went clockwise…"

"It was counterclockwise actually, but-"

"Incantation was 'Ignemitta', right? And it sounded like you elongated the second syllable…"

"Hermione!" Harry part shouted, part laughed, grabbing the girl's arm. "I'll teach you the spell later. I promise. But we really should get going. Léon, Raquel, and your parents were looking forward to this too."

The girl frowned, clearly torn. "Fine," she huffed. "But I'm holding you to that promise."

"Alright. Now, let's go! Sirius went to all the trouble of getting us tickets for tonight's showing at the dueling hall, and I don't want to miss it!"

Dueling, at least the magical sport version, was something Harry and Hermione only knew about in passing following Gilderoy Lockhart's disastrous showing back in Second Year. Since then, they hadn't really given the sport much thought. But while they were browsing the many stores of Place Cachée, they came upon the local dueling hall, which just so happened to be having a showing later that night.

Naturally, Sirius had to get everyone tickets.

According to him, dueling tournaments, especially professional leagues like the one they were seeing tonight, were something that should never be missed if the opportunity presented itself. It may not be as popular as other magical sports like Quidditch or Broom Racing, but it had a large following and was probably one of the best ways to see new spells and magics. And France was known for producing some of the very best duelists in the world, some of whom were supposed to show tonight.

They were in for a treat.

"There you are!" Jean called, waving at the two teens. "I was just about to ask Sirius to go get you two."

"Sorry, mum. We got sidetracked."

"Mhm…" The woman smirked and turned to the young man standing next to her daughter. "Sirius mentioned that you learned a new spell after your misadventure last week. She demanded that you teach it to her, didn't she?"

Harry didn't even try to stop the grin that spread across his face. "Yup."

"That's my girl," Chris laughed.

"She gets it from you," Jean said, mock glaring at her husband.

"I don't deny it, but even you have to admit that I'm not that bad."

Hermione blushed.

"Ah… To be teased by those who know us best. Gotta love it," Sirius chuckled, not that anyone outside of their group would know. As a wanted fugitive, the Marauder had cast a series of spells to alter his appearance, and now had short blond hair, blue eyes, and a full beard covering much of his new face. It was astonishing how different he looked, but Harry knew he would have to get used to it as this would be his godfather's primary disguise whenever they were in the magical world.

A loud gong sounded, alerting everyone to the time. "Oh, looks like it's time." Sirius handed their tickets to the doorman. "Come on! The matches will be starting soon."

The group, minus Alfred who had not been interested, quickly followed Sirius into the venue, their excitement almost palpable as they took their seats within the cathedral-sized hall. A large circular stage had been set up in the building's center, elevated in such a way as to ensure that everyone would have an unobstructed view of the action. With only minutes before the first match was set to begin, Sirius quickly explained how the duels would work. "Alright, so each match consists of three rounds, with three minutes on the clock. The goal is to incapacitate the other side by knockout, capture, or surrender. Best two out of three wins the match. In the case of a tie after all three rounds have finished, the referee will pick a winner based on which duelist had the upper hand in the last duel."

"This isn't going to be like MMA, is it?" Jane asked, looking concerned. "It sounds similar."

"What's MMA?"

"Mixed Martial Arts. It's a full contact combat sport. It sounds just like what you described, only the fighters use punches and kicks instead of spells. It can get pretty bloody."

"Ah, no. This is the Limited General Dueling Circuit. Non-lethal magic only," Sirius assured. "There are other dueling circuits that allow lethal magic or focus on specific schools of magic, but this isn't going to be like that. If any of the duelists attempt to use lethal or dark magic, they'll immediately get disqualified and may even go to prison."

"Oh, thank goodness."

"Now, out of the sixteen competitors here, the ones to pay attention to are Hector Dubois, Nicholas Arnoult, and Aubrey Verville," Sirius continued, pointing out the three duelists as he named them. They were standing off to the side of the stage with the other competitors, some stretching, others sizing up the competition. "They regularly place at or near the top, with Dubois being the favorite to win."

"Who do you think will win?" Harry asked.

"Not sure, but if I had to put gold on it, I'd say Dubois. He won the International Dueling Championship for France back in '88."

In that moment, the lights dimmed, drawing everyone's attention to the center stage. A middle-aged witch, dressed in sapphire robes, stepped forward, her wand pressed to her throat. "Bonsoir, sorcières et sorciers, et bienvenue au spectacle de ce soir! (Good evening, witches and wizards, and welcome to tonight's show!)" she said to raucous applause. "Je suis Natalie de Lapin, propriétaire de cette salle. Comme beaucoup d'entre vous le savent, ce soir est une soirée très spéciale pour nos duellistes estimés. Le gagnant de ce tournoi recevra non seulement un prix de trois cents bezant, mais se qualifiera également pour avoir une chance de représenter notre pays équitable dans le circuit international de duel! (I am Natalie de Lapin, owner of this hall. As many of you know, tonight is a very special night for our esteemed duelists. The winner of this tournament will not only receive a three hundred bezant prize, but will also qualify for a chance to represent our fair country in the international dueling circuit!)"

"Notre premier match est entre deux sorciers qui n'ont pas besoin de présentations. Abandonnez-vous pour Hector Dubois et Lyle Montague! (Our first match is between two wizards who need no introductions. Give it up for Hector Dubois and Lyle Montague!)"

The two duelists stepped into the limelight, raising their hands to the cheers and applause of the audience watching them. They nodded toward one another and took either end of the stage.

"Des baguettes prêtes? (Wands at the ready?)"

They nodded.

"Match un, premier tour ... Commencez! (Match One, First Round… Begin!)"

The words had barely left the referee's lips before Dubois was on the move. The man dropped onto one knee and plunged his wand into the ground, making the very stage itself heave as a rolling shockwave tore its way in Montague's direction. Surprised and more than a little panicked, Montague desperately tried conjuring a shield for protection, but the shield shattered less than a second later under a ferocious barrage of spellfire, just as Dubois's first spell reached him. Next thing he knew, Montague had been flung backwards, his body crashing into the shields surrounding the stage before he crumbled onto the floor, stunned.

A flash of red ensured that he stayed that way.

It was over in five seconds.

"Premier tour à Dubois! (First Round to Dubois!)"

"Wow…" Harry breathed, his eyes wide as the crowd cheered. "That was fast."

"Getting the drop on your opponent like that is one of the best ways to win," Sirius said, looking impressed. "I can see why Dubois is the favorite to win. He's fast and he knows how to attack on multiple fronts."

"But now, Montague knows Dubois's strategy," Léon commented. "He won't fall for the same trick twice."

"He wouldn't be here if he did. And if Dubois is as good as everyone says he is, he'll know that too. The next round should be interesting."

True to their prediction, the next round went radically differently from the first, with Dubois not even trying to use the same tactic. Instead, the dark-haired Frenchman spun on his heel and vanished right at the start, easily avoiding Montague's opening salvo in the process. He reappeared on his opponent's right side, fired off a hex that ended up being blocked, before apparating to another spot and striking again.

"The Poltergeist Maneuver," Sirius muttered. "Risky, but effective."

"How so?" Hermione asked, her eyes not leaving the match.

"Apparating in general is difficult under normal circumstances. Without proper focus, a wizard can easily end up splinching themselves or worse. And to do it in the middle of a duel, within a contained space? It's risky. If Dubois lets up his assault for even a second, Montague could hit the whole stage with a wide-area spell and Dubois would have nowhere to go and he wouldn't be able to protect himself. There's a reason why most pro duelists don't use the Poltergeist Maneuver on stages like this. If Dubois isn't careful, he could easily end up losing this round or get seriously injured."

Unfortunately for Montague, that didn't seem likely to happen. Thus far, Dubois hadn't tripped up even once, while Montague was back on the defensive, effectively pinned as he struggled to maintain his protective shield from his opponent's endless onslaught. It was maddening! This was not how he had imagined the night would go. "Merde!" he spat. "Arrête de transplaner et fais-moi face comme un homme! (Quite apparating and face me like a man!)"

Naturally, Dubois didn't rise to the taunt. Why would he when he had the advantage? For the next minute, the dark-haired Frenchman continued to pressure his opponent, disappearing, reappearing, and attacking from seemingly every angle. It was only after the thirty-second countdown had sounded did the man think to switch things up. With a loud crack, Dubois apparated onto the far end of the stage and unleashed a barrage of bright colorful spells at his opponent, who was understandably surprised and unprepared for the sudden change. His shield held for only a moment before it finally broke, shattering in a bright explosion of magic that had Montague stumbling back. "Merde!" He moved fast, swiping his wand across his face just in time to deflect the remaining spell, before raising his wand to recast his shield… But in that moment, he took his eyes off his opponent… And this time, for the first time, Dubois did not apparate to some random spot on his side of the stage, but directly behind his opponent.

Montague never saw it coming.

"Et voilà, les gars! (And there you have it, folks!)" Natalie announced to the roaring crowds as Montague fell to the ground, stunned. "Le vainqueur du premier match - Hector Dubois! (The winner of the first match - Hector Dubois!)"

"C'était incroyable! (That was amazing!)" Raquel exclaimed, clapping excitedly with the audience.

"Oh, he is good," Sirius whistled. "Way better than I was back in the day."

That got everyone's attention.

"You were a duelist?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Yeah, but not for long."

"Were you any good?"

"I was for a rookie. I even won some of the local circuits. But I never made it to the national stage. Not before… well, you know."

"You never said anything about it."

"It never came up."

"But, why not? If you were as good as you say you were-"

"I was good, kiddo, but I wasn't that good," Sirius said in a rare case of modesty. "If things had gone differently, I might have gotten into the national circuits, but I doubt I would've ever broken the top fifty. I lack the talent and the drive that someone like Dubois has." He looked back down at the stage where the man in question was shaking hands with the disgruntled loser. "He's good… Very good. I wasn't kidding about how dangerous or difficult the Poltergeist Maneuver is. I doubt there are more than a dozen duelists in the world who can do it as well as him. He was fast, he didn't follow a pattern, and he was casting on target, nonverbally, every time he appeared… The moment he appeared. All Montague could do was try to keep his shield up and you saw how that turned out." Sirius shook his head in awed disbelief. "Like I said. He's really, really good. Far better than I'd ever be."

"Bugger. I was hoping you could teach me that."

Sirius laughed. "I never said I couldn't teach you how to apparate in a duel."

"I thought you said-"

"Apparating in the middle of a duel is dangerous, but more so in a contained area since your opponent can just hit the whole stage and you won't be able to escape. In a real fight, wizards apparate and disapparate all the time. They just generally reappear in entirely different areas where it's safer."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"I may not be able to pull off the Poltergeist Maneuver like Dubois can, but there are still loads of things I can teach you. You too, Hermione," he added, seeing the girl open her mouth to ask.

She huffed. "Am I really that predictable?"

"Yes," everyone replied, including Raquel and Léon.

"But we love you for it," Chris said, squeezing his embarrassed daughter. "Just don't be surprised if we tease you a bit."

"I'm pretty sure this qualifies as more than a bit!"

"Matter of opinion. Oh! They're starting the next match!"

The next few matches were just as exciting as the first. The audience watched, clapped, and cheered as magic of all kinds were used to dazzling effects and oftentimes in highly unconventional ways. In one match, Aubrey Verville used a Sonorus Charm to literally scream her opponent into surrendering. In another match, although he lost in the end, Nicholas Arnoult, who also happened to be part goblin, wowed the crowds by conjuring and animating several golems, which he then charmed to look just like him. The tactic likely would have worked too had his opponent not gotten lucky with a random shot.

Eventually, after an exciting hour or so of magical combat, there were only two duelists left.

Hector Dubois vs. Aubrey Verville.

"Ça y est, sorcières et sorciers. La confrontation finale! Le vainqueur de ce match remportera tout! (This is it, witches and wizards. The final showdown! The winner of this match wins it all!)" Natalie announced. "Comme d'habitude, le match final n'aura qu'un tour. Dubois, Verville, prenez vos positions! (As is our custom, the final match will have just one round. Dubois, Verville, take your positions!)"

The crowd quieted as the two duelists moved to opposite ends of the stage, their wands raised.

This was it.

One round.

Three minutes on the clock.

No do-overs.

"Que le match ... commence! (Let the match… begin!)"

The signal dropped and both wands flashed. There was a near deafening crack as the spells collided in mid-air, creating an explosive display of light and magic as the two sides fought for dominance! Within seconds, it became clear that Verville held the advantage in terms of power and was slowly pushing Dubois back, but the dark-haired wizard had no intention of letting things stay that way. He broke off, twisting away from the remnants of Verville's spell, and stabbed his wand into the ground. Once again, the stage heaved in response to the Frenchman's magic, but failed to go any further as a flash of blue light forcibly leveled out the platform.

Dubois frowned. "Vous êtes habile, Verville, (You are skilled, Verville)" he acknowledged.

"Mieux que toi (Better than you)," the witch smirked. "Et après ce soir, tout le monde le saura! (And after tonight, everyone will know it!)" Taking a deep breath, Verville brought the tip of her wand to her lips and began spewing fire as if she were a dragon. The flames rushed toward their target, but failed to even singe him as they were swept aside by a lazy flick of Dubois's wand.

"Vous êtes compétent, mais vous avez encore beaucoup à apprendre (You are skilled, but you still have a lot to learn)," Dubois said, immersing himself in his magic. His power thrummed at his call and flared, unleashing its might in the form of a raging inferno! The blaze of blue fire swept across the stage with far more speed and ferocity than Verville's own spell, and the witch had no choice but to shield herself and hope for the best.

"Protego!"

It was the first time she, or any duelists that night, had spoken an incantation aloud; such was the depth of her panic in the face of the oncoming blue fire. Her shield shuttered on impact, and Verville knew she was being pushed back! She swiped her wand again and again, recasting her shield to weather the conflagration burning through her defenses, until finally, the spell ended and she let her arm drop.

Verville scowled.

She did not like the fact that Dubois had basically replicated her last attack, and had done so with far more success. And, he had done so intentionally… The smirk on his face told Verville as much, but for what purpose? Was he trying to say that he was better than her? That anything she could do, he could do better?! Who did he think he was?!

"Ne me méprisez pas! (Don't you look down on me!)" she snarled.

Her wand flashed, Blasting Curses searing through the air only to be deflected with a wave of Dubois's wand. She followed up with Explosive Charms, Stunning Spells, Knockback Jinxes, making sure to move around their battlefield in an attempt to strike at different angles, but it was all for naught. Every spell she cast was blocked or deflected. Even a horde of conjured birds failed to do anything, as Dubois quickly turned them to ash with a tendril of fire, coaxed from the scattered embers still burning across the stage. And then, the tendril turned its attention to her. It lashed out like a coiled snake, striking again and again despite Verville's efforts to keep it at bay.

Next thing she knew, she had been knocked sideways.

With the attacking flames taking her attention, Verville inadvertently took her eyes off her opponent… Exactly what Dubois wanted. His wand glowed as he viciously jabbed it at Verville's direction, setting off a powerful shockwave that launched the witch across the stage! She slammed into the shields surrounding the stage and crumbled onto the floor, her whole body aching.

But she wasn't out.

Not yet.

She apparated, just in time to avoid Dubois's follow-up, and reappeared with her wand flashing at the same time as her opponent's. Their spells clashed, but Verville didn't give their magic time to deadlock and instead leapt into another apparation, firing off a few more spells before she vanished. Dubois, realizing what she was doing, did the same, spinning on his heel and disapparating before her magic could reach him. He materialized just a fraction of a second after Verville herself had reappeared, and did so silently, thus giving Dubois the time he needed to launch a surprise attack on his unsuspecting foe.

Verville's eyes widened.

"Protego Maxima!"

It didn't work.

The titanic magical force Dubois unleashed tore across the stage with all the speed and power of a runaway train, tearing through Verville's shield as if it were wet paper and sending the woman flying! For the second time that night, the witch slammed into the shields surrounding their stage and crumbled onto the floor, only this time, she didn't get back up.

The match was over.

"IL L'A FAIT! (HE'S DONE IT!)" Natalie shouted through the roar of the crowd. "Hector Dubois envoie Verville voler et remporte le prix! (Hector Dubois sends Verville flying and wins the prize!)"

What a fight!

What a show!

It had been everything the audience had hoped for. Stunning new magics, fast action, and the favorite claiming the prize in the end. The crowd was on their feet, clapping and cheering for Dubois as he pumped his fist into the air, his usual calm facade replaced with triumphant jubilation. Verville, who at this point had been revived, healed, and escorted off the stage, could be seen standing amongst her fellow defeated competitors, scowling. She clearly had no interest in staying through the award ceremony for her opponent, and soon stormed out of the venue in an angry huff.

"Not very sportsmanlike," Léon muttered, watching the witch go.

"In dueling, second place just means you lost. You don't really get any recognition," Sirius said with a frown. He understood how Verville felt. To have put in countless hours of blood, sweat, and tears toward this moment, to fight hard and put on a truly great show, only to get nothing in the end, not even an acknowledgement, simply because you didn't win… It hurt. And it was something he had to learn to deal with back when he was still in the circuits, but it never got any easier. Not really. 'Well, I guess that's not something I have to worry about ever again,' the wizard thought ruefully. That part of his life was over and Sirius doubted he would ever regain the passion he once held for the sport. Still, he enjoyed being a spectator, and the fact that he got to introduce it to his godson was a treasure that brought a smile to his face. He looked at the still cheering teenager. "So, kiddo? What'd you think?"

"That was bloody-!"

"Brilliant!" Hermione all but squealed. "Harry, did you see those spells?! The magic!" She whirled onto the only other magical in their group, a hungry gleam in her eyes. "When can you start teaching us?"

Sirius laughed. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"What? Why?!" The gleam in her eye turned manic. "We could go to the Lair right now!"

"Honey," Jean chastised. "I know you're excited, but you can't force Sirius to teach you if he doesn't want to."

"But-!"

"Hermione…"

"Right… Sorry."

The Marauder laughed again. "It's fine. I know how you are."

"Can you at least tell us the first thing you'd teach us?" Hermione asked, hope visibly shining in her eyes.

"Well…" Sirius drawled, purposely trailing off to mess with the girl. He got an annoyed twitch in the bushy brunette's brow. Perfect. "The first thing I'd teach you would probably be-" Sirius suddenly went silent, his gaze locked on the crowd moving toward the exit.

Everyone stopped.

"Sirius?"

No response.

"Sirius?!"

The man blinked and looked back at the now concerned group. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Is everything alright?" Chris asked. "You suddenly stopped talking."

The Marauder frowned. "I thought I saw…" He sighed, an intense look settling on his face. "I need to go. If that was who I think it was, it could mean trouble."

"Who did you see?" Harry asked, already looking back at the crowd. He didn't see anyone noteworthy.

"I'd rather not say, not until I'm sure."

"But-!"

"Harry, I promise I'll tell you when I get back. Just, not here, not now."

"… Alright."

Nodding his appreciation, Sirius moved toward the exit while Chris and Jean herded the kids down the stands to the stage. The couple recognized the need for a distraction while Sirius was gone, and figured that getting Harry and Hermione to talk to the duelists might help, at least in the short term. Léon and Raquel, however, went after their friend.

"Attendre! (Wait!)"

"Sirius!"

The Marauder looked back, but didn't stop. "Guys, you should stay here."

The Frenchman shook his head. "Non (No), you helped us the other night."

"It iz only right that ve return ze favor," Raquel finished firmly.

"Are you sure? Neither of you have magic…"

"True, but zat does not mean ve cannot 'elp."

Sirius frowned, finally stopping. "Normally, I'd say no, but after what I learned about you two the other night, I could probably use your help." That more than anything told Léon and Raquel how serious the Marauder was taking all this. "But… I think in this case, less is more." The wizard looked at Raquel. "I hate to say it, Raquel, but this is one situation where your beauty might be more of a hindrance than an asset. You draw too much attention." One merely had to turn the clocks back to that afternoon to know the truth behind Sirius's words. During the few hours they had spent exploring Place Cachée, the beautiful brunette received no less than a dozen offers, even with her hand tucked in her husband's arm. It had been highly amusing to the wizard at the time, but could now pose a problem.

"I have to agree with Sirius here, mon amour," Léon nodded. "Could you keep an eye on the others? Maybe call Alfred too?"

The brunette clearly did not like being sidelined, but understood their logic. "Very well. Be safe, both of you."

"We will," Léon said, kissing his wife. He looked back to Sirius. "Shall we?"

"Let's go."

~ Scene Break ~

Minutes later, Sirius and Léon were outside the duelling hall, trying to locate their target among the crowded streets. Unfortunately, with the duelling tournament having just concluded, the surrounding area was bustling more than usual. It also didn't help that every witch and wizard present was capable of teleporting, and could do so in an instant. For all they knew, their target had already left.

"Sirius, par ici (over here)," Léon said, pulling his friend to the outdoor cafe next to the duelling hall. "We'll be less conspicuous this way." He had only just sat down at an open table when a house elf appeared to take their order, very nearly drawing a startled yelp from the Frenchman had he not clamped down on his surprise at the last second. Instead, he smiled and spoke with confidence, as if being served by a diminutive magical being was an everyday thing. "Deux expressos, s'il vous plaît (Two espressos, please)."

His companion raised an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I would think you'd seen house elves before," Sirius complimented as soon as their server vanished. "Impressive."

"I wouldn't have been very good at my previous job if I didn't know how to adapt to unexpected things."

"Good point."

"So, who are we looking for?"

The frown on Sirius's face turned ugly. "Lucius Malfoy. He's a high-ranking Death Eater in Voldemort's inner circle. If Malfoy's here, it can't be for anything good… Especially with the Dark Tosser back."

"What's he look like?"

"A little taller than me, long platinum blond hair, looks like he's got a tree shoved up his arse."

The Frenchman barely restrained his snort. "Right."

Sirius grinned before twirling his wand, conjuring an image of the man before his friend's eyes. "That's Malfoy. I know I saw him inside," he muttered, ending his spell just in time for their drinks to float onto their table. "If you see him, don't draw his attention. We don't-"

"Sirius, this isn't my first time doing surveillance. I know what I'm doing, magic or not," Léon assured, leaning back into his chair and taking a sip of his steaming beverage. He hummed in approval at the rich flavors filling his mouth as he lowered his mug. "Sirius, to the right of the woman wearing the sleeveless green dress, talking to the bald man with the monocle. Is that our man?"

The Englishman blinked, not realizing that Léon had been scanning the crowd the entire time. 'Bloody hell, he is good,' he thought, trying to be discreet as he looked back to the hall. His eyes narrowed. "Yeah, that's him."

"What do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure… I want to get closer, maybe put a tracking charm on him, but he might notice that. Plus, if we go back in there, we might attract Harry or your family's attention if they leave early."

Léon shook his head. "Don't worry, that won't happen. Raquel knows how this kind of thing can play out. She'll probably keep them in there for another fifteen minutes."

"Well, that's a relief."

"Mm… Wait, he's on the move."

Sirius scowled. "We need to go after him."

"Not so fast, my friend," Léon said, grabbing his friend's arm before he could stand. "You get up now and move in his direction, and he'll notice." The Frenchman slowly counted down from thirty, making sure to keep an eye on their target. Fortunately, the dense crowd made it difficult for the aristocratic wizard to move with any sort of speed and more than once, he stopped to greet certain individuals. "Alright, now, we can go. Follow my lead. If you see an opportunity to put a tracker on him, do it, but only if you're sure he won't notice. And make sure your disguise is strong. We don't want you to be discovered."

"Got it."

With all the chatter and bustle outside the duelling hall, it wasn't difficult for the two men to slip back into the crowds unnoticed by their target. It helped that Malfoy was also preoccupied with an older wizard, discussing something in hushed undertones, which allowed Léon and Sirius to get close enough to eavesdrop. They just had to keep their backs to the target and appear as if they were discussing the tournament like everyone else so as to not draw attention.

"-cel has agreed? Truly?"

"He has."

"I-I see."

"Can we expect your cooperation?"

"Lucius, I'm not sure-"

"Antonio, my friend, you know it would be unwise to stand against what's to come. I tell you this out of concern for your wellbeing," Malfoy drawled, his tone and expression clearly indicating that his words did not match what he really thought.

The old wizard swallowed heavily. "O-Oui, you are right."

"Excellent." The Englishman clapped a hand on the elderly wizard's shoulder, uncaring of the terrified flinch his actions brought. "Come by later tonight, around midnight. We can speak more freely then. Several witches and wizards of our stature are expected to be there."

"A-As you wish."

Antonio disapparated, leaving Malfoy behind who didn't appear at all bothered by the elderly wizard's abrupt departure. If anything, the Death Eater was amused at the fear he had instilled in his… friend. The brief smile that bellied the man's crueller nature said as much, though he was quick to hide it under a veil of aristocratic superiority.

Seconds later, he was gone, disapparating to places unknown before his watchers' eyes.

"Bullocks!" Sirius cursed. "He got away!"

"Did you get him?" Léon asked.

"No, I didn't have a clean shot and I was trying to hear what they were saying."

"Well, he did say a few things that could help us find him."

"Really?" Sirius looked dubious. "Like what?"

"He mentioned a meeting later tonight."

"I heard that, but he didn't say where it was going to be."

"True, but there was one other thing he said that might point us in the right direction," the Frenchman said, a look crossing his face. It was one of resignation. "I might know a way to find out where they're meeting…"

"Really?"

"Yes…" He sighed. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough."

~ Scene Break ~

"A library? Seriously?"

"Looks can be deceiving, my friend."

"No kidding…"

The two were inside the infamous Bibliothèque de la Sorbonne, located on the campus of the Paris-Sorbonne University. How visiting a library was supposed to help them, Sirius didn't know, but he trusted his friend not to lead him astray given their current situation. 'Even so,' he thought, following Léon to the help desk. 'I don't know how we're supposed to find Lucius Malfoy or uncover what he's up to in a bloody library of all places.'

"Oui? (Yes?)" the stern looking woman at the front desk demanded. "Puis-je vous aider? (Can I help you?)"

"Oui, je regarde l'histoire des fontaines Wallace sur la Place de Furstenberg (Yes, I am looking into the history of the Wallace Fountains in Place de Furstenberg)," Léon said amicably, sliding a red card across the counter. "Y a-t-il quelqu'un ici qui les a étudiés? (Is there anyone here who has studied them?)"

The card vanished into the librarian's pocket as she pulled out a leather-bound book and opened it. "Peut-être. Avez-vous une table? (Possibly. Do you have a table?)"

"Non, mais j'aimerais en réserver un dans un endroit calme s'il vous plaît. (No, but I would like to reserve one in a quiet location please.)"

The woman wrote something onto a slip of paper and handed it to Léon. "Deuxième étage, table d'angle à côté de l'allée 5. Mettez le papier sur la table et quelqu'un sera avec vous sous peu. (Second floor, corner table by aisle 5. Put the paper on the table and someone will be with you shortly.)"

"Merci."

"Bonne journée. Qui est le suivant? (Have a nice day. Who's next?)"

Léon quickly moved aside, letting the woman behind him approach the desk, and gestured for Sirius to follow. "Come on."

Thankfully, the Englishman had the sense to keep his bewilderment quiet and his mouth shut until they were at the table the librarian had directed them to. But that was as long as he waited. "What in Merlin's name was that?" he demanded as soon as they sat down.

Léon didn't immediately respond. He was too busy checking their surroundings, wanting to be sure that they were alone and that no one was listening in somehow. It was only after he had scanned the area for bugs and had Sirius do a check for listening charms did the Frenchman finally relax. "Sorry about that. With everything that's happened, I guess I'm a bit more paranoid than usual," he explained. "So, what was it you asked me?"

"That whole thing at the front desk. What was that?"

"It's complicated."

"Léon…"

"Alright, fine. To put it simply, the criminal underworld is far more expansive and organized than the public knows. So long as you know the right things to say and you can pay for it, there are places that you can go to obtain certain services and information."

Sirius blinked several times, clearly trying to understand the bombshell his friend had dropped on him. "Y-You mean-?" He gestured at the library they were in.

"Precisely," he nodded. "The oldest libraries in each country serve as a kind of concierge service, hidden in plain sight. For anything magical, you tell the front desk that you're looking for information on whatever the visitor's entrance is to the Ministry of Magic for the region, and specify the location. If you mention you're looking into its history, they'll know you're asking for intel. For supplies, you ask them for information on how the objects were built or what they were made of. And if you want to hire someone, you ask about the people who built them."

"So, for France…"

"That would be the Wallace Fountains in Place de Furstenberg, yes."

"And you paid with that red card?"

"It's one of the main forms of currency in the underworld, and practically untraceable. For simplicity's sake, you can think of them as a type of gift card, though it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Wow…"

"There are places like this all over the world."

"And what about the rest of the stuff you said?"

"Asking for someone who has studied the subject is code for wanting to speak to someone in person about the information I'm after. Reserving a quiet table means that I want our coming here and everything discussed to be kept secret. This way, even if Malfoy himself walks in and asks about us, they won't say a word."

"But you didn't tell the front desk what you wanted."

"For security's sake, you're not supposed to. You write what you need on the paper," Léon explained, doing exactly that before placing the sheet face down to the side. The paper faded from existence seconds later. "And now, we wait. Shouldn't be too long."

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

The Frenchman grimaced. "Three times, twice when I was with the secret service, once after I left. As a squib, I am entitled to their magical services, but I prefer not to since most of the jobs I do are non-magical. I generally only come here for information."

"Why not use their services to get some magical items? Wouldn't that make your work easier?"

"Not at all. I'm sure you can guess what would happen if a non-magique like myself used a magical item in a non-magical criminal situation."

"Err, right. Yeah, that would be bad."

"It's why I've only ever asked for information. Too risky otherwise."

"For some, yes, but I doubt that would apply to you, Léon," a raspy voice suddenly croaked. Out of nowhere, an elderly woman dressed in embroidered robes of black appeared in their table's remaining seat. How she did that without them noticing, Sirius didn't know, but it had the Englishman feeling very on edge. His companion, on the other hand, did not appear surprised and merely dipped his head in greeting.

"Bonsoir, Sofia."

"It's been a long time, boy."

"You know I do not like coming here."

"And yet, here you are." A smile spread across Sofia's lips. "Perhaps one day, you will take us up on our offer."

Léon's eyes narrowed. "I'll pass."

"Many have said that before, only to give in in the end," she said, uncaring of the reaction she had gotten out of the Frenchman. "Tell me, how are Alfred and Raquel?"

"They're fine, but can we please move along? Do you have the information I requested?"

"Ah, yes." The paper Léon had written on moments earlier appeared, suspended in mid-air before their eyes. "I admit, I was surprised at your request. You wish to know if there has been any talk of a pureblood meeting tonight with one Lucius Malfoy, as well as where it might be located and how you might get in if possible." Her blue eyes slid over to Léon's companion, who had removed his disguise earlier per his friend's instructions. "And you are accompanied by the infamous Sirius Black, alleged murderer of innocents and betrayer of James Potter and Lily Potter, parents to the Boy-Who-Lived… My, my, what have you gotten yourself into, boy?"

"It is none of your business."

"That, Léon, is where you'd be wrong," Sofia said, leaning in. "Just because my organization is neutral does not mean we do not look out for our own self interests. We have seen what is to come and have determined which side would serve us best."

Léon and Sirius tensed. "And which side is that?" the Frenchman asked warily, as Sirius slowly began reaching for his wand.

She didn't answer.

She only smiled.

The tension rose.

Léon and Sirius were ready. The con-man had already identified four-no, wait, make that five potential escape routes, and his companion was ready to lay down a barrage of spellfire to cover them…

Their wariness and preparedness did not go unnoticed.

Her smile widened… And then, "Hah!" The tension broke, making Sirius jump and Léon scowl. "Did you really think we would side with that madman? Come now, Léon, you know how this organization operates. We work in both worlds, providing our services to whoever requests it, so long as they honor our terms. Based on what we have learned about the Dark Lord, he would never allow us to exist. That is why we have chosen to side against him, in our own way."

The man sighed, sheathing the knife he had surreptitiously drawn during the earlier tension. He always kept one on his person. "And what does that mean exactly?"

"So long as it doesn't violate our usual terms or is too big of an ask, anyone who requests our services in the fight against the Dark Lord and his followers will be given priority assistance, free of charge. Those who support the Dark Lord will be denied within reason."

'Free of charge?' That, more than anything, told Léon how serious the organization was taking this. "I see."

"Once we are finished here, go to the front desk and you will be reimbursed."

"Thank you."

"Mm… Now then." Sofia gestured at the paper still floating between them. "Your request. There has been a call to the more, shall we say, traditional pureblood families around Paris to convene at the estate of Marcel Malfoy for a… discussion. I'm sure you can guess what the topic will be." The witch handed over a sheet of parchment. "All the pertinent details are in there: address, the enchantments on the place, time of the meeting, and the people expected to be in attendance. I should warn you, the magic protecting the estate is powerful. You won't be able to break through on your own, and even if you somehow do, you would very likely be caught. And the Malfoys are not known for their kindness toward non-magique."

"Duly noted."

"Good. Well, unless there's anything else, I will take my leave. Good day, Léon."

And just like that, Sofia was gone, having vanished from her chair without a sound.

"I'll never get used to that," Léon muttered, scanning the parchment before handing it over to Sirius. "What do you think?"

Sirius quickly read through it. "Not good." He pointed at the section detailing the magic protecting the Malfoy Estate. "They have goblin and dwarven enchantments."

"Is that bad?"

"Either one would be hard. Goblin enchantments are nasty pieces of work. They're not particularly strong, but they are highly aggressive against infiltrators. Dwarven enchantments, on the other hand, are durable. Really, really durable. It takes a lot of time and power to break through them. We'd need a team of curse breaking specialists to take these enchantments down, and even then, your friend is right. We'd probably be noticed. Still…"

Léon did not like Sirius's tone. "What…?"

"This is Malfoy we're talking about here. We've got to get in there."

"Are you insane?!" the Frenchman demanded. "That's suicide!"

"Malfoy is obviously recruiting for Voldemort. We have to put a stop to it!"

"And how do you propose we do that?! You just said that the Malfoy Estate is heavily protected!"

"We'll find a way!"

"Merde, Sirius! Stop and think for a second!"

"What's there to think about?! We need to stop him! We need to go!"

"What about Harry?" Léon said, opting for a different tactic. "Isn't the point of your whole trip to keep him out of danger? How does laying siege on Malfoy's estate accomplish that?"

That stopped Sirius cold. Loathe as he was to admit it, his friend was right. He had an obligation to think of his godson first, now more than ever. It had taken many long, guilt-filled talks from both Remus and Dumbledore on how his impulsiveness to track down and kill Pettigrew had landed him in Azkaban for more than a decade to get the message through his thick skull, but eventually, Sirius understood. He couldn't be as reckless or as much of a loose cannon as he once was. He owed that to James and Lily. From now on, every decision he made had to start with one question: What was best for Harry?

And Sirius knew the answer to that.

"You're right," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry about that. I'm still-"

"I know, my friend. I know," Léon said, laying a comforting hand on the Marauder's shoulder. "And I never said that Malfoy shouldn't be stopped. Is there anyone you can contact who might be able to help us?"

Sirius blinked. "As a matter of fact, there is." He pulled out a black card with a glowing, moving yellow rune on its surface. "Dumbledore gave this to me a few days before we left. It's an address to an old acquaintance of his here in Paris."

"Do you think this person can help us?"

"Only one way to find out."

~ Scene Break ~

It was many hours later when Sirius and Léon returned to the penthouse. The two men practically slumped through the front door, utterly exhausted, but knowing they would have to answer questions first before they could get the rest they so desperately needed. And, as expected, everyone was in fact awake, anxiously waiting for them and were on them the moment the door opened.

"Sirius!"

"Léon!"

"Do you have any idea what time it is? You've been gone for hours," Jean admonished, letting her daughter and cousin-in-law greet the man first before moving in for her own hug. "We were getting worried."

"I know, Jean," the Frenchman apologized. "But it was necessary."

"Why? What happened?" Jean turned to Sirius. "Who did you see?"

The Englishman scowled. "Lucius Malfoy."

Harry and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Malfoy?!" the bespeckled wizard spat. "Here?!"

Sirius nodded.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing here in Paris?!"

"Nothing good. It looks like he's re-"

"Wait, wait, wait… Hold on a second," Jean interjected. "Lucius Malfoy?" She turned to her daughter. "As in the despicable man responsible for you getting petrified for nearly a month?! That Lucius Malfoy?!"

The ugly scowl on the brunette's face confirmed it as such.

"So you've heard of him," Sirius said, looking surprised. "I wasn't sure she'd tell you about that. Most magical families have a sort of "don't ask, don't tell" attitude about what happens in school. You must really trust her to let her go back if she told you everything."

"It hasn't been easy," Chris grumbled. "There are times when we seriously considered pulling her out. We even tried talking to her about it a couple times, but she convinced us otherwise. Told us that being a witch, being at Hogwarts, the friends she made…" He nodded toward Harry. "It was a part of her. A part of who she is. And she wouldn't run away from it, no matter how bad things might get." Chris sighed, a resigned, but proud look on his face. "After hearing that, we couldn't say no. It didn't feel right."

"She's a Gryffindor through and through," Harry said, smiling at his blushing best friend. Sometimes, with how academic the girl was, it was easy to forget that Hermione had in fact been sorted into the House of the Brave, and that the Sorting Hat had been right to do so. The girl wasn't one to back down, no matter the obstacle, and had always stood by him through the years. It was something Harry realized he (and Ron) hadn't shown much appreciation toward, and he resolved to do so more often from now on. "You're amazing, you know that?"

The girl blushed even harder, but that didn't stop her beaming smile at the compliment.

"That she is, but back to the matter at hand," Chris said, returning everyone's attention to Sirius and Léon. "What happened? What is Malfoy doing here?"

"Recruiting," the Marauder answered, running a hand through his hair. "I won't go into too much detail, but the gist of it is that he has family here, and he's using their connections to get the purebloods of France to join his master."

"Master? You're talking about that madman who came back from the dead, right? Voldemort?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful," Chris muttered sarcastically. He leveled a serious look into the wizard's eyes. "I need to know, Sirius, are we in danger?"

"Right now, I don't think so. Just stay out of the magical sectors and you should be fine."

"But we cannot just leave him be," Raquel spoke up. "If zis man is as bad as you say he is, should we not try and stop him?" She looked to her husband. "Is zat not what we do, mon amor?"

"It is and we are, but not tonight," Léon revealed. "You know as well as I do that it takes time, resources, and planning to dismantle something like this. And we only just learned what's going on a few hours ago. As good as we are, my love, there is nothing we could have done tonight."

"So we just let them do what they want?" Harry demanded. "This is Malfoy we're talking about here! You just said he's recruiting for Voldemort! We need to do something!"

"I know, kiddo," Sirius said. "Believe me, if there was something we could have done, I'd be all for it. When we first found out what he was up to, I almost went over to their meeting place, wand blazing, but Léon talked me out of it. Reminded me of what happened the last time I did something without thinking…"

Harry grimaced, easily deducing what his godfather was referring to. "So what do we do then?"

"We get help. That's why it took us so long to get back."

"Help from who?"

"An old friend of Dumbledore's. He asked to remain anonymous, so I can't tell you who he is, but he said he'd do what he can to stop Malfoy's plans here. Léon has agreed to help in any way he can. In the meantime…" The man ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry to say this, kiddo, but we need to leave France."

That got a reaction out of everyone save Leon.

"What?! Why?" Harry asked.

"You're too well-known," Sirius answered, looking apologetic. He knew how much the teen hated his celebrity status. "When Voldemort was beaten the first time, the whole wizarding world learned your name, but only the countries closest to the UK, like France and Belgium, know what you look like. Don't you remember what happened in Place Cachée? Half a dozen witches and wizards came up to us about you."

Harry scowled. He had not enjoyed those moments.

"If we stay in France, even if we don't go into the magical parts, there's a good chance that you being here will get back to Malfoy, assuming that hasn't already happened." The Marauder sighed. "I know it sucks, kiddo, but it really is safer for you that we leave early."

As much as he wanted to protest, Harry understood. After all, one of the main reasons why Dumbledore had allowed him to even go on this trip was because Voldemort wouldn't know about it. But that didn't mean he had to like it. He was having so much fun here, moreso now that he had his best friend to share in it. He didn't want to leave, and it was clear that Hermione felt the same way.

But, like him, she could see the logic.

"You know he's right, Harry," she said. "You need to stay safe."

"I know," he grumbled.

"When do you need to leave?" Hermione asked, directing her question at Sirius.

"Tomorrow morning. I was able to get us a portkey that'll take us to our next destination. It's set to depart at a quarter after ten."

"Which is in less than nine hours."

"Is it? Bloody hell, no wonder I feel so knackered."

"It is after midnight," Léon said, checking his watch. "We should probably head to bed. It's been a rough couple days."

"Bah! Sit down, Léon," the Marauder ordered, waving his friend back to the couch. "We can all sleep tomorrow. I would much rather spend the last few hours we have here in Paris catching up. Who knows how long it'll be before we see each other again. You too, Raquel."

It didn't take a genius to see that Sirius was trying to end his and Harry's time in France on a lighter note, and the Frenchman wasn't going to deny his friend that. So instead, Léon did what the Englishman asked and sat back down, throwing an arm around his wife as he did so. "Very well then." He looked to his cousin. "Come, sit. Join us."

Jean smiled. "Alright."

"I'll make us some coffee," Chris said, moving into the kitchen as his wife sat down and joined in the relaxing conversation. He looked back at Harry and Hermione. "You kids want anything?"

"I wouldn't say no to some cheese and crackers," the brunette called after a moment's thought. "Harry?"

"I might steal some from you if that's okay," the boy replied, settling next to his friend on one end of the couch.

"Of course," Hermione smiled, obviously fine with sharing. "So, tell me, where else do you think you and Sirius are going to go?"

"Well…"

As the two fell into comfortable chatter like everyone else around them, Harry couldn't help but think that his time in Paris hadn't been at all what he'd envisioned it would be. In the nine days he'd been here, he had found ancient treasures and lost knowledge, battled an army of inferi, and rescued his hosts from the Louvre while they were in the middle of an art heist. And now, even though Harry hadn't been involved, it seemed like his infamous luck had spread to his godfather, who had uncovered a recruitment ploy by Lucius Malfoy in Paris.

And now, they had to leave, lest their presence here be discovered and alert the enemy.

Still, despite the chaos that always seemed to follow him, the raven-haired wizard had enjoyed his time here in the City of Lights. There were still loads of things he wanted to see and this certainly wasn't how he wanted to leave, but nonetheless, sitting here, chatting with his best friend with the sparkling view of the Eiffel Tower through the window in the background, Harry realized that this wasn't a bad way to end his time here.

No, it wasn't a bad end at all.


Author's Note: This chapter took... well, it felt like forever. I couldn't figure out how I wanted to end Harry's time in Paris for literal years, and then finally, my fiancee began getting invested and helped push me through! I hope you all enjoyed the final part in France. Again, to any French speakers out there, my sincerest apologies for any butchering I may have done to your beautiful language. Feel free to leave a review or DM me with the proper text. I will be sure to fix it and mention you in thanks! I will also be keeping the translations and language in the story as-is. Someone mentioned that they felt like it took away from the story, and while I respect and understand the opinion, I personally disagree. So if I messed up any of the translation, please correct me!

I will also repeat my heartfelt desire to hear any legends, folk stories, or ideas you all might have heard around the world! C'mon, folks! Tell me all your local stories, myths, and fairytales!