Exploring Italy had been a dream, and Greece had captivated her heart. Iceland's frosty charm had been uniquely thrilling. The week spent at her father's villa in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat on the French Riviera unfolded like a serene, sun-drenched novel. Each destination blended iconic tourist attractions with leisurely family days, following a meticulous itinerary crafted by her babbo. His travel plans skilfully balanced educational ventures with sheer enjoyment, shaped further by the whims and wisdom of her aunts and uncles. While her father had generally approved of the itinerary, and been content to do things babbo's way, Paris was where he drew his line.
Refusing to jostle through the crowds at the Palace of Versailles and the Louvre, her father's firm stance sparked negotiations with Uncle Elijah and Babbo. Their compromise? Private viewings during off-hours, ensuring minimal disruption to other patrons. This unusual arrangement surprisingly benefited from Versailles being closed on Mondays and the Louvre on Tuesdays. Leveraging what she suspected were substantial donations, coupled with a touch of compulsion, they secured exclusive tours.
Yesterday's exploration of Versailles had been nothing short of mesmerizing. Guided by historians, their journey through the sprawling estate — encompassing the grand palace, the Trianon, the meticulously sculpted gardens, and the expansive park — was an enriching tapestry of history and beauty. The artwork, especially the majestic ceiling frescoes reminiscent of Rome's splendour, left her awestruck. The gardens had been enjoyable, Neville would have loved them even if they did lack in magical flora, and the lively water fountain display, added layers of enchantment to their visit.
Today's visit to the Louvre was sure to be just as awesome. Even if it was kind of weird to be in the museum, when there were no other people around. Being given a guided tour of each hall by its curator was sure to be pretty epic though. Her father had demanded they start in the Grand Gallery, and since no one else had a preference, they had conceded to his wishes.
Maya looked at the Mona Lisa her gaze narrowing as she tried to decipher the magic that vaulted this modest-sized painting to the peak of global acclaim. Surrounded by the grandeur of the Louvre, Leonardo da Vinci's creation seemed almost unremarkable in comparison. After all, the artworks they'd admired at Florence's Uffizi Gallery had left a deeper impression on her.
"Ah, La Joconde, or the Mona Lisa as she's more commonly known." Her father appeared beside her, breaking into her thoughts. "Leo was not only a masterful artist but a brilliant mind, quite the conversationalist."
"You met him?" Maya turned, to look at her father, excitement dancing in her eyes.
"No, he didn't," Uncle Elijah cut in before her father could reply.
"I might have. You don't know everyone I've ever met," her father retorted, his voice tinged with mock offense.
"Oh, here we go," Kol sauntered over, a teasing smirk on his face. "Next he'll be claiming he brushed shoulders with Van Gogh too."
"And how would you know if I did or didn't? You were too busy tumbling every—"
Damon coughed loudly, casting a pointed look towards Klaus, and then subtly nodding towards Maya, signalling for a quick save.
"You were too busy with your own activities to know what I was up to all the time," Klaus amended smoothly, catching the hint.
Maya's curiosity piqued at the half-spoken revelation, but it was swiftly eclipsed by the humour unfolding before her. The bickering between her father and uncles was an entertaining spectacle in its own right.
"I know for a fact you were in New Orleans when Van Gogh was painting his masterpieces. And as for meeting Leonardo? Please," Kol scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You weren't even in Italy."
The playful accusation had barely left Kol's mouth when the conversation took another dive into the realm of the absurd.
"Well, I know that you never met Shakespeare, despite your claim to have helped inspire his works," Maya's father fired back with a twinkle in his eye.
"No. You just happen to have met every single famous artist of the last thousand years!" Kol retorted, his tone dripping with mock incredulity.
"I appreciate art and culture; it's far more plausible that I would have mingled with many artists in my lifetime, than your ridiculous story about aiding Isaac Newton discover gravity by lobbing apples at his head!" her father declared, waving his hand dismissively.
"Nik—" Elijah tried to intervene, sensing the conversation might spiral out of their playful banter zone.
"Stay out of this, Elijah!" both brothers chorused, then immediately broke into grins at their unexpected synchrony.
"Yeah, Mr. I-had-dinner-with-Abraham-Lincoln!" Kol jabbed at Elijah, who just shrugged, his smirk suggesting he might not refute the claim entirely.
The museum's curator, who had been attempting a dignified retreat from the escalating historical escapades, could hardly believe his ears. Maya, barely containing her giggles, watched the lively banter continue to unfold with her uncles and father.
"At least we never had the audacity to claim we helped draft the Declaration of Independence," Uncle Kol, now an impromptu team with her father, lobbed at Elijah.
"Or that we ghost-wrote all of Chaucer's work." Her father added, a smirk on his face.
"Or that we were a military advisor to Genghis Khan!" Kol exclaimed.
Her father leaned in close to Kol, dropping his voice to a theatrical whisper.
"That one's actually true."
"It is?" Kol's eyebrows shot up.
"Yeah. Remember when he was looking for people to turn for his little club."
"Huh." Kol paused, stroking his chin thoughtfully before spinning back to Elijah, "At least neither of us claimed to have faked our death to escape marrying Henry VIII!"
"That was Rebekah," Elijah retorted with a smirk, effortlessly volleying back.
Aunty Bex had elected not to accompany them to the Louvre as she wanted to shop for clothes. Maya had no doubt that had she been present she would have been joyfully joining in with the argument.
"William Wallace?" Kol persisted, not missing a beat.
"That was Finn," her father chimed in, shaking his head with a grin.
Uncle Finn, who'd been hanging back and watching with the air of someone who wished they were anywhere else right now, even if that anywhere else was helping Aunty Bex shop for clothes, sighed and rubbed his face.
"Rembrandt?"
"We all met him, Kol. Don't you remember?"
"It all blurs together after a while," Kol admitted, then tried another shot, "Voltaire?"
"Rebekah."
"Hmm. Beethoven."
"Finn. Mozart too."
"And Darwin?"
"Also, Finn."
Maya's laughter subsided as an extraordinary interruption unfolded by the doorway. The curator, who had been nervously inching towards his escape, froze as a sprightly elderly man made a dramatic entrance. With a swift flourish of a wand and an obliviate, he momentarily dazed the curator and gently guided him out of the room. The old man then turned, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and faced the astonished group.
"Good morning," he greeted them, his voice rich with an unplaceable accent. "When I heard you were here, I couldn't resist taking over the tour."
"Nicholas?" Uncle Finn stepped forward, his expression a mix of surprise and delight.
"Finn, how wonderful to see you again! And what a joy it is to finally meet your siblings," Flamel said warmly, his gaze sweeping over the group with genuine interest.
"Hullo Mr Flamel."
"Miss Potter, a pleasure to see you again," the famed alchemist replied, his eyes twinkling beneath bushy eyebrows.
When Professor Aradia uncovered the details of Maya's tumultuous first year at Hogwarts, she felt compelled to bridge a connection between Maya and the ancient Flamel's, whom she had befriended centuries ago. Contrary to Dumbledore's solemn declaration that the couple had peacefully embraced death, they were very much alive and vibrant, disproving yet another of the headmaster's narratives.
The revelation hit harder when Maya discovered that the Philosopher's Stone, which she had nearly sacrificed her life to protect from Voldemort, was a mere sham—an ordinary, magicless ruby. This deception deepened her resolve to sever ties with Dumbledore permanently. Although the Flamel's suggested Dumbledore might have been unaware of the stone's true nature, Maya was convinced he had used it as a lure for Voldemort, recklessly endangering the students of Hogwarts. The betrayal was profound, compounded by the painful memories of being abandoned by Dumbledore at the Dursleys', a family that never loved or cared for her, with Dumbledore never bothering to check on her well-being.
Despite these revelations, Maya found a genuine connection with the Flamel's. Their warmth and wisdom were a stark contrast to the cold manipulations she had endured. They were masterful storytellers, weaving tales of magic and history that captivated and entertained Maya, their zest for life infectious despite their ancient lineage. She'd been aware they lived in France, but this unexpected encounter was a delightful surprise that she hadn't been expecting.
"Nicholas Flamel?" Uncle Elijah asked, a surprised tone in his voice, "As in noted alchemist, maker of the Philosopher's Stone, Nicholas Flamel?"
Her father, Uncle Kol, and Uncle Elijah, all turned shocked gazes on Uncle Finn.
"I did tell you I'd met him, Elijah. It's hardly my fault that none of you believed me." Uncle Finn smirked at his three younger siblings and then began to make introductions.
The revelation that Uncle Finn truly knew Nicholas Flamel, the legendary alchemist, seemed to send shockwaves through the group. Elijah, Niklaus, and Kol exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of astonishment and slight embarrassment for ever doubting Finn's claims. Finn, thoroughly enjoying the moment, wore a smirk that was as mischievous as it was triumphant.
"Nicholas," Finn began, turning towards the alchemist with a gesture of introduction, "these are my brothers; Elijah, Niklaus, and Kol. Unfortunately, my sister Rebekah couldn't make it today. And you've already met Maya, my niece, as well as her godfather, Damon Salvatore."
"It's very nice to meet you all, and wonderful to see you again, Damon," Nicholas Flamel responded warmly, his voice carrying the weight of centuries yet tinged with genuine enthusiasm. He nodded to each as they were introduced, his face bright with a friendly smile. "And how absolutely delightful to finally meet dear Finn's brothers. I have heard so many stories about you."
His comment sparked a flicker of curiosity in the others' eyes, and Kol couldn't help but lean in slightly, his earlier disbelief replaced by intrigue.
"Oh? Finn's been talking about us, has he? Hopefully, all good things."
Flamel chuckled, a sound that seemed to ripple with the wisdom of ages.
"Indeed, all quite fascinating. It's not every day one hears tales of such… adventurous spirits."
As they all started moving again, Nicholas seamlessly transitioned into his role as their guide, pointing out not just the artistic masterpieces but also the hidden gems and secret stories of the Louvre that only someone of his unique background could know. Each story he told was peppered with historical anecdotes and personal touches that made the artwork come alive in unexpected ways.
"Over here," Flamel motioned towards a seemingly ordinary medieval tapestry. "This piece, believe it or not, contains a coded alchemical formula. Finn, perhaps you remember our discussion on the different methods my colleagues and I used over the years to hide our work from the Church?"
Uncle Finn nodded; his earlier smugness replaced with an air of fond remembrance. The group followed, hanging on every word, their earlier jests forgotten as they delved deeper into a world where history, magic, and alchemy intertwined. Flamel had a story about almost every artefact in the Louvre, some magical, some mundane, and some a mix of both.
Maya watched with wide eyes, her mind racing to connect the dots between her lessons at the Academy and the real-world applications Flamel described. The tour was no longer just a simple walk through a museum; it had transformed into a magical journey through time, led by one of the most enigmatic figures of history.
Maya, Damon, and Klaus stepped into the grand hall of the Musée d'Orsay, the air thick with the scent of aged stone and the faint whisper of centuries-old oil paint. The museum, a converted Beaux-Arts railway station, boasted towering ceilings and vast windows that bathed the art in natural light, setting the stage for an afternoon steeped in history and creativity.
As they meandered through the corridors lined with masterpieces of the 19th and 20th centuries, Maya's gaze was drawn to the vibrant swirls of colour and emotion that characterized the works of the Impressionists. Klaus, ever the observer, watched her reactions with a wry smile, while Damon seemed more interested in the architectural beauty of the museum itself, his eyes tracing the ornate gilding and the intricate patterns of the tiles.
They found themselves in the Van Gogh gallery, surrounded by the vivid blues and yellows that seemed to pulse with the artist's turbulent spirit. Maya paused before 'Starry Night Over the Rhône,' captivated by the dynamic brushstrokes that seemed to capture the very essence of the night sky.
"It's incredible," she murmured.
Damon leaned in closer, his voice low.
"Vincent was quite the character. Brilliant, tormented, and, honestly, not great at socializing."
Maya turned to him her interest piqued.
"Did you really meet him?"
"I did." Damon replied, his eyes glinting with the memories. "I used to meet up with your Great-Great-Grandparents in Paris every couple of years. And on one of those visits I came across this lovely little café he frequented."
Klaus, listening to their conversation, joined in with a dubious raise of his brow.
"And you just happened to meet Van Gogh? What are the odds?"
Damon shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips.
"You of all people should know how small the world really is, when you've lived as long as we have. Vincent wasn't what you'd call 'light company.' He had this depth in him, an overwhelming passion that spilled into his art. People found it hard to be around him, though. He could be quite intense." Damon shot Klaus a smirk, "Not to dissimilar from someone else I know."
Klaus smirked back at him, understanding his implication clearly. Maya laughed, the sound echoing softly in the gallery.
"What did you talk about?"
"Everything and nothing," Damon said. "He spoke of stars as living, breathing entities and wished fervently to capture their essence. That night, he talked about wanting to paint a night sky that showed the world what he saw. He felt misunderstood, said he saw things in ways others couldn't fathom."
"That must have been quite a conversation," Maya mused, turning back to the painting. "To see the world through his eyes, even for a moment..."
"It was," Damon agreed quietly, still looking at Klaus. "Vincent taught me that beauty and madness often walk hand in hand. That the most profound art comes from the deepest sorrows."
The trio continued through the gallery, each lost in their thoughts. The conversation had added a layer of intimacy to the paintings, each brushstroke now a whisper of a more personal story, a glimpse into the soul of a man who saw the world in ways most could never understand.
Their final day in Paris was nothing short of enchanting, capped off with a visit to Disneyland Paris. The excitement was palpable as Maya and her extensive family, descended upon the magical realm. Joined by Maggie, Enzo, Lexi, Lee, Pearl, and Anna, they were all set to bring their holiday to a thrilling crescendo, especially with the upcoming finale at the Quidditch World Cup in Britain. Disneyland held a special allure for Maya, reminiscent of her delightful escapades at Disneyworld in Florida the previous summer.
As the train glided into Marne-la-Vallée station, a surge of exhilaration swept through them. The fantastical spires and whimsical parapets of Disneyland Paris rose in the distance, beckoning them to step into a world brimming with magic and adventure. Lexi and Enzo shared Maya's thrill, both harbouring a deep, albeit not-so-secret, love for the adrenaline rush of theme parks and roller coasters.
The park itself was a vivid mosaic of colours, each themed land bursting with its own unique palette, like a canvas painted by an enthusiastic artist. Their first stop was Main Street, where Maya, bubbling with excitement, insisted that everyone adorn themselves with Mickey or Minnie Mouse ears for the weekend. The sight of Elijah and Klaus, sporting the iconic ears with a mix of reluctance and humour, prompted an immediate flurry of photographs, much to their chagrin.
Anna revealed herself to be a fellow roller coaster enthusiast, much to the delight of Maya, Lexi, and Enzo. She eagerly joined the thrill-seeking trio on every ride. Thanks to Damon's foresight in securing fast passes, they zipped past long lines, their laughter and screams echoing through the park as they led their less enthusiastic companions—Elijah, Finn, Klaus, and Pearl—from one exhilarating ride to another.
Lunch was a fairy tale in itself, hosted in the regal setting of the Auberge de Cendrillon. They dined like royalty, surrounded by the opulence of a storybook castle. The meal was an elegant affair, each dish a masterpiece, devoured as they recounted tales of morning escapades and plotted their afternoon adventures. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and the cheerful clinking of glasses, toasting to an unforgettable holiday.
The afternoon adventure took them to the shadowy allure of Adventureland, where the dense foliage and exotic calls of the jungle added an extra layer of thrill to their day. The highlight was undoubtedly the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, where they found themselves in the heart of a pirate battle, complete with booming cannons and swashbuckling pirates swinging from the masts. Kol and Maya competed to see who could emit the loudest whoops as their boat skilfully dodged the splashes of the tumultuous waters.
As the day ran into early evening, the enchantment of Disneyland showed no signs of waning. They found themselves in the dreamlike whirl of Fantasyland, navigating Alice's Curious Labyrinth and spinning in the vibrant teacups, their laughter mingling with the twinkling lights and magical atmosphere, sealing the day as not just an outing, but a cherished memory in the tapestry of their grand European adventure.
The day ended under the soft glow of the fireworks show, the sky ablaze with colours that reflected in Maya's wide, awe-filled eyes. Standing between her father and adoptive father, with her aunts and uncles close by, she felt a profound sense of belonging. Here, in the heart of Disneyland, amidst the magic and fantasy, Maya knew that this was more than just a day of fun. It was a memory, vivid and sparkling, that would be etched in her heart forever.