Man of Archives

The restaurant La Guardia was exactly as I had imagined: luxurious and opulent, with a clientele that appeared sophisticated and conservative.

 

La Guardia was a cozy and refined place where every detail seemed meticulously planned. The entrance was adorned with gilded statues of faceless wizards standing guard. Rich golden decorations and moving paintings of wizards added an extra touch of grandeur. But the most striking feature, in my opinion, was the chandeliers. These chandeliers were not only masterpieces of magical art but also examples of the finest craftsmanship.

 

As I learned, the kitchen staff were real wizards, as were the waiters. This place was considered so prestigious that the local elite often gathered here. I immediately noticed Amel Delacour sitting with an attractive blonde woman. She was also a Veela, which I realized at once. Although she kept her charm under control, I could still feel it. Curiously, the other men paid her no attention. I wondered if this was a matter of sensitivity; I hadn't read about anything like it before.

 

"Monsieur Timothy," Amel greeted me as I approached the table. The Frenchman stood and extended his hand. "I'm glad to meet you."

 

"Monsieur Amel, the pleasure is mine."

 

"Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Apolline Delacour," he indicated the woman. She stood and, with an incredibly charming smile, gave a slight bow.

 

"I am pleased to meet such a young and respectable man," she said in a light, pleasant tone.

 

"I'm also glad to make your acquaintance," I nodded, following all the rules of etiquette.

 

"Well, let's not stand here too long," Amel said.

 

We sat down at the table, and almost immediately, a waiter appeared. He placed a menu in front of me and discreetly disappeared as silently as he had arrived.

 

"My daughters won't be joining us today," Amel said in a slightly apologetic tone. "They have other matters to attend to."

 

"No problem," I nodded. Honestly, I wasn’t particularly eager to meet anyone else just yet.

 

"Monsieur," Apolline addressed me. "I wanted to apologize on behalf of the staff at my Chanel shop. You are the first person in over a hundred years who has been sensitive enough to notice... Please, accept my deepest apologies once again."

 

"All right, I accept them," I nodded. "In that case, I also want to apologize for my harsh words. They were somewhat inappropriate."

 

"I accept your apology on behalf of my employees," she replied gracefully. I sensed a slight relief from her; it seemed she had been worried but was now reassured after our exchange.

 

"Wonderful," Monsieur Delacour grinned, clearly pleased that the situation at the store had been resolved so easily.

 

"Would monsieur like to order?" the waiter, who had appeared as silently as before, asked.

 

"No," I shook my head. "Not yet. I'm still deciding."

 

"Of course," the waiter nodded and quietly left again.

 

"I recommend starting with the wine," Amel said, gesturing to his glass of red liquid. "The southern vineyards recently produced an excellent harvest."

 

"Oh?" I asked. "Do they use any magical methods?"

 

"Of course," Amel replied.

 

"I've heard that each winemaking family has its own secrets and magical techniques for creating unique wines," Apolline added, holding a glass of wine herself.

 

"I've never tried it," I shook my head. "But I have tried ice cream made with unicorn milk. Now that's something truly delicious."

 

"Agreed," the Veela nodded, while Amel simply smiled.

 

"By the way, what brings you to France?" Apolline asked. "Surely the youngest Master of the Guild of Transfiguration has matters to attend to at home..."

 

"Of course I do," I nodded. "But I also want to travel, explore the magical world, and meet wonderful people."

 

"That's wonderful," she smiled. "Traveling is always a good thing."

 

This time, I called the waiter myself and placed a small order, which included the wine Amel recommended.

 

The conversation shifted to how long I planned to stay in France and what I intended to do. I shared my plans with them, and it turned out they, too, were going to attend Nicholas Flamel's funeral with their entire family. Apolline immediately suggested that I join them for the trip.

 

"I plan to visit Lyon," I told her calmly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The Delacours seemed like sensible people with their own interests, desires, and hopes. Apolline, being a Veela, never once tried to use her charm on me, understanding that I would notice immediately and likely react unpleasantly. She was careful in that regard.

 

"After the funeral, I want to explore the south a bit, perhaps Provence. Then I'll head east."

 

"Hmm," Apolline glanced at her husband and signaled something to him with her eyes.

 

"Well, we could join you," Amel said quickly. "There are some things in Lyon that Apolline might find useful for her store. After all, the city is famous for its potioneers and alchemists."

 

"Yes, that's true," Apolline immediately agreed. "I do need to make a few purchases."

 

It seemed they were hoping their daughter could receive some lessons in Transfiguration from me. There were far fewer Transfiguration Masters in France than in England—around fifteen, with a single Magister at the top. On the other hand, France excelled in Potioneering and Alchemy. Nicholas Flamel had been a powerful wizard and one of the most experienced Archmages. However, now that the Philosopher's Stone was "destroyed," he had quickly left this world.

 

"So, what do you say, Monsieur Timothy?" Amel asked.

 

"I don't mind if you join me," I replied.

 

Why did I agree to this? It was simple. Getting to know this family could be a nice addition to my growth in power. The owner of a Chanel store, where excellent potioneers likely work, could brew something high-level for me or help me further study this fascinating art.

 

As soon as I made this decision, I noticed a smile on Apolline's face.

 

"When do you plan to leave?" she asked.

 

"I have nothing keeping me in Paris," I shrugged.

 

"We'll need three days to get everything ready," Apolline said, glancing at me with a slight question in her eyes.

 

"All right, I'll wait," I replied after some thought.

 

"If you like, you're welcome to stay at our house," Amel offered. "What do you think?"

 

"Why not?" I decided to take a chance. What harm could come from seeing how French wizards live? I would meet their children… Nothing bad could happen, right?

 

The conversation continued in the same vein, with the Delacours showing a keen interest in my experiences. They were surprised when they learned that I planned to master Charms next. Other than that, they seemed eager to stay close to me.

 

Amel paid for the dinner. I never found out how much a meal here cost, but I suspect the price included more than just the food—it was the atmosphere. And I must say, the atmosphere was top-notch.

 

I received the coordinates to their home, which was located outside Paris in a small magical village called Angerville. The village had two hotels popular with travelers, a Quidditch field with seating, a small street with magical shops, and several bars and restaurants. The stores were simple, not overly professional—there was a candy store, a potion shop, and a general wizarding supply store.

 

The Delacour home was large but not overly so, a two-story building in the classic French architectural style. A small garden surrounded the property, shielding the interior courtyard from prying eyes.

 

They showed me where I could stay and explained all the necessary details. All my belongings were with me, shrunken down, so I didn't have to worry about retrieving them from the hotel.

 

When invited to join them in the courtyard for a light dessert, I agreed. It was then that I met the Delacour daughters and their nieces, as well as Apolline’s sister. The eldest of the girls was Fleur, and the youngest was Gabrielle—Amel and Apolline’s children. The two blonde Veela cousins, Jacqueline and Annabelle, were their nieces.

 

Fleur was a stunning sixteen-year-old who, even without her Veela charm, could outshine many others. She was polite and kind, unlike her younger sister Gabrielle, who was an energetic girl, eager to ask me all sorts of questions. Their cousins were more refined, trying to behave like “ladies,” though at their age, it seemed more amusing than anything.

 

One thing I noticed was Fleur's interest in me. Honestly, I wasn't sure why… after all, we had only just met. And it wasn’t just a casual curiosity about a new acquaintance; her interest felt deeper, and unexpectedly pleasant.

 

"Monsieur Timothy," Fleur addressed me.

 

"You can just call me Timothy," I said, leaning back slightly on the wooden bench.

 

"Timothy," she began cautiously, "you're from England, right?"

 

"Yes," I nodded. "Why?"

 

"You probably speak English very well?"

 

"I do," I nodded again. "Do you need help learning the language?"

 

"Yes, monsieur," she replied.

 

"How well do you speak it now?" I asked, switching to English.

 

"My name is Fleur Delacour," she began in English. "London is the capital of Great Britain..."

 

"Okay," I interrupted her. "I understand. Well, I can help you with that. And in return, you can explain to me how spells are constructed here in France. Deal?"

 

"Yes," she nodded happily and shook my outstretched hand.

 

When evening came, Jacqueline and Annabelle left with their mother. Gabrielle went to bed, and Amel and Apolline left Fleur and me alone. The mood between us was romantic... I still couldn’t quite understand how romantic feelings could develop so quickly after just an evening of casual conversation.

 

I decided to break the ice by asking her about Beauxbatons, the French school of magic. Fleur was more than happy to answer my questions, as she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation herself. From there, things flowed more easily, with her asking me about Hogwarts and how I achieved mastery in such a short time. After about two hours, we parted ways. Fleur went to bed, and I had tea with Amel and Apolline.

 

Apolline seemed to be probing for any interest I might have in their daughter. Of course, it was hard not to be interested in someone as beautiful as Fleur, and I hinted as much. Apolline seemed pleased, likely planning to discuss the matter with her daughter later. I wasn’t particularly concerned, as I had no intention of pursuing a long-term relationship.

 

Lying in bed, I focused on a section of my mind, absorbing the knowledge that belonged to the dwarf. Both he and his sister had been rather twisted individuals, clinging to each other for survival in the magical world. I briefly felt sorry for the girl, but quickly pushed her out of my thoughts and turned to analyzing the dwarf’s knowledge. He didn’t know much—his level was about that of a fourth-year Hogwarts student. However, he did have some valuable insights, particularly regarding how French wizards used spells and certain equivalents to ones I already knew. Overall, though, the absorption was disappointing in terms of new knowledge. Perhaps the information on hidden caches of money was the most valuable takeaway.

 

As for the increase in power, that was a more interesting topic, though one I couldn’t easily quantify. I could tell that it had happened; I felt a slightly more refined and detailed sense of magic within my body. My spellcasting had likely grown stronger, as had my overall abilities.

 

Still, I wanted to avoid such increases in the future. Gaining power through killing was not an appealing or ideal solution. After all, it’s easy to turn into a monster that way. I may not be the kindest person, but I didn’t want to descend to such depths. In these situations, there's always someone knocking from below, inviting you to sink even lower.

 

When the process was over, I meditated and began searching for books I could upload from the Delacours' house.

 

And indeed, there were many, as various families had lived in the house over time, and the books had been preserved in the informational space. The first book I uploaded was ‘The Great Explosion’. After a quick scan, I realized it was a book on the theory of magic. What was most important was that it complemented a book I had already studied on the Theory of Magic. The other books had similarly obscure titles, but after some effort, I managed to acquire a book on necromancy, one with very interesting fire spells, a book with potion recipes I hadn’t yet encountered, and a few medical reference books.

 

After initiating the analysis, I allowed myself to relax. I still had many books from Hogwarts that I hadn’t fully analyzed yet. Afterward, I could head to Geneva’s Library, where I had a month left to visit.

 

In the morning, I woke up and did some light exercises. At breakfast, I met Apolline and Fleur. Amel had already gone about his business at the French Ministry of Magic.

 

"Timothy," Apolline addressed me. "What are your plans for today?"

 

"I'll probably take a walk around the square," I shrugged. "Maybe check out a few more interesting shops."

 

"Would you like to meet with the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Olympe Maxime?" Apolline asked. "I spoke with her yesterday, and she was interested in meeting you."

 

Olympe Maxime. I had heard many good things about her. Despite being a half-giantess like Hagrid, she was a very powerful witch, a master of Charms, and one of the few in France. Under her leadership, Beauxbatons had risen in rank among the world’s magical schools and now rivaled Hogwarts. She was also an influential figure in the French magical community.

 

Here was the first positive outcome of my acquaintance with the Delacours.

 

"And what would Olympe Maxime like to talk to me about?" I asked.

 

"I don’t know," Apolline replied, adjusting her hair. "So?"

 

"All right," I nodded, wondering what the Headmistress of Beauxbatons could possibly want to discuss.

 

"I’ll contact her right away," she said, leaving me and Fleur alone.

 

"What do you think, Fleur? Why does the Headmistress of Beauxbatons want to talk to me?"

 

Fleur thought for a moment and then answered, "I’m not sure."

 

She sighed, feeling a bit disappointed that she couldn’t give me an answer. It was clear… I could sense her frustration with herself and a hint of upset.

 

"But I think it must be something important for the school," she added thoughtfully.

 

"Maybe, maybe," I agreed.

 

"May I come with you?" Fleur asked shyly. "I need to buy a few things as well."

 

"Why not," I nodded, and she practically lit up with joy, though she tried to hide it.

 

I still didn’t fully understand Fleur, and I had no desire to delve deeper into her thoughts.

 

Apolline returned after a short while.

 

"Olympe said she’d like to meet with you at ten o’clock in the morning. Timothy, do you have any other plans?"

 

"Not yet."

 

"Then let’s go."

 

I checked the time. It was still an hour until ten. But if Apolline was so eager to leave, I had no objections. After all, I had nothing else to do.

 

The meeting took place in a small café, most of which was outdoors. There were small tables with a few guests enjoying their drinks, croissants, fresh newspapers, or conversations with their companions.

 

Olympe Maxime towered over all the other patrons by several heads. She was dressed in a light, closed dress, her dark, almost reddish hair styled in a bob. When she noticed us, she stood, revealing her full height. I think she was even taller than Hagrid, and unlike him, she was fit, hinting that she was not only a witch with a keen sense of fashion but also well-trained and skilled.

 

"Madame," I greeted her.

 

She offered her hand, expecting me to follow proper etiquette. Not a problem. I responded with a courteous kiss on her hand and looked her directly in the eyes. She met my gaze without hesitation, even showing a faint smirk. Mentally, she was well-shielded. It was difficult to sense her emotions.

 

"Monsieur," she finally responded to my greeting. "Apolline, Fleur, it’s a pleasure to see you."

 

"Madame Headmistress," Fleur said with a small, graceful curtsy.

 

"Olympe, it’s wonderful to see you too," Apolline replied. "Allow me to introduce Timothy Jodie, a talented young man."

 

"The youngest Transfiguration Master in England," Olympe said with interest. "I’ve heard a bit about you."

 

"Thank you, Madame Maxime," I replied with a smile.

 

"Oh, no need," she smiled back, her expression sharp as a shark’s. For a moment, I felt a shiver run down my spine, but it quickly passed.

 

We sat down at the table, and menus appeared before us.

 

"How are you enjoying France, Monsieur Timothy?" the Headmistress asked.

 

"It’s been interesting," I replied, drawing out the words slightly, as the dwarf had often done.

 

"I heard you were almost robbed on your first night..." Olympe said.

 

Apolline’s interest immediately piqued.

 

"Yes, that happened," I waved dismissively. "But no one was harmed, except for the thief and his accomplice."

 

"Well, serves them right," she replied.

 

Our order arrived—tea with light, airy croissants, butter, and apple jam. For a while, silence reigned as everyone savored the hot drink.

 

The conversation then moved on to broader topics. Olympe was curious about Hogwarts, not just the school itself but also its teaching structure. After that, the focus shifted to me. She asked about my preparation for the Transfiguration Mastery exam and much more.

 

"What are your plans for the fall?" Olympe asked when we finally got to the topic that truly interested her. I could sense it from the slight spike in her emotions. "I heard you’re planning a world tour, but I wanted to make a small offer."

 

"What kind of offer?" I asked.

 

"I’d like to invite you to test yourself in the role of a Transfiguration teacher," she proposed, catching me completely off guard.

 

Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. It was so unexpected.

 

"I’m not ready for that yet," I replied. "Yes, I’ve assisted with lessons and taught a few classes at Hogwarts, but I’m not mentally prepared for such a responsibility."

 

"That’s fair," the half-giantess nodded. "I understand, and I respect your honest answer. In the future, when you feel ready, write me a letter. I’d be happy to have you at Beauxbatons."

 

"Thank you," I nodded. "I’ll keep that in mind."

 

With that, the conversation ended. Madame Maxime warmly bid us farewell and went about her business.

 

"Well, I have some things to take care of as well," Apolline said. "See you in the evening."

 

Fleur and I were left alone. She wasn’t sure what to say and remained silent. I, on the other hand, was thinking about all the people I’d met recently. On one hand, it was a good thing, as such connections could prove useful in the future. On the other hand, I had neglected my information uploads to my Archive lately. The night at the Delacours' house didn’t really count.

 

What should I do next… That’s a difficult question, one I don’t have a clear answer to yet.

 

"Fleur, what interesting places are there to visit in Paris?"

 

She thought about it for a moment.

 

"I’m not sure," she answered, a little embarrassed.

 

"I’ve heard the catacombs here are interesting," I said.

 

"Yes," she replied, her face lighting up slightly. "It’s a well-known place in Paris, and popular with ghosts, although the Ministry of Magic tries to manage them. But it hasn’t had much success."

 

"Have you been there?" I asked.

 

"No," she shook her head.

 

"Then let’s go check it out. What do you say?"

 

"Okay, if you want to," she answered quickly, though I could sense she wasn’t particularly excited about the idea.

 

The Paris Catacombs are fascinating not only for wizards but for ordinary people as well. There’s so much history, both magical and non-magical, hidden within. I had read a legend once that this place was meant to be the starting point for the Kingdom of Darkness, but that turned out to be just a scary story wizards had made up.

 

The entrance for wizards was located in the French Ministry of Magic, so that’s where we headed.

 

The French Ministry of Magic was a magnificent building, located in the heart of magical Paris. Its towering walls rose above streets lined with cafés and shops selling elite magical goods. The building’s façade was in the classic French style, with ornate carved window frames and decorative sculptures on the exterior. In the center of the façade was a large fountain with a waterfall, and on the top floor, there was a balcony with eagle wings.

 

Inside, the ministry housed all the departments responsible for regulating the magical world in France. You could find the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and much more.

 

In the center of the building was a grand hall with a clockwork mechanism adorned with gold and bronze sculptures. But what really caught everyone’s attention was the ministry’s semi-transparent dome, which displayed constellations of magical creatures and their current locations. For example, the constellation of the dragon was at its zenith, while the constellation of the serpent was just beginning to rise.

 

Registering at the ministry was a simple procedure. You had to weigh your wand, leave a fingerprint, and pay a small fee. After that, Fleur and I received silver cards that would serve as our identification and time trackers. When the cards became transparent, it was time to leave.

 

The entrance to the catacombs was on the first basement level. From there, you walked down a long corridor before entering the magical section. After just a few steps, the walls started to reveal human bones and skulls, as if death itself was watching from within.

 

I quickly noticed that Fleur was uncomfortable. Unlike her, I didn’t feel anything unusual. Skulls and bones… nothing I hadn’t seen before. But after a few more steps, I began to sense something familiar about the magical energy in this place. It was similar to the energy of a certain object I had acquired recently. The magical emanations here resembled those of the Philosopher’s Stone. A chilling thought struck me—could it be that many of the bodies here were victims of the creation of the stone? If that were true, my opinion of its creator would change drastically.

 

A ghost slowly materialized from the wall, eyeing us curiously before fading away into the ceiling.

 

"How are you, Fleur?"

 

"I’m fine," she replied after a brief pause.

 

But her face and emotions told me otherwise. This place was clearly not good for her. It would be better to leave before she became too distressed. Still, I made a mental note of my impressions and planned to investigate further later on.

 

When we emerged from the catacombs, Fleur seemed to relax a little, which was a good sign.

 

"I can see you didn’t enjoy that much," I remarked.

 

"Not really," she admitted honestly. "I’d prefer to avoid places like that in the future."

 

"Understood," I nodded, accepting her words.

 

As we left the building, we encountered a procession of several wizards who all looked alike. The only difference was their thin, slightly curled mustaches beneath hooked noses. We passed them without incident and continued strolling through the magical beauty of Paris, browsing the elite shops.

 

These were truly elite shops, offering the finest of the finest. For example, there was a clothing store that sold fabrics made from unicorn hair, or a bookstore with books priced at tens of thousands of Galleons. The books intrigued me, so I didn’t hesitate to take Fleur to the nearest café and, while there, discreetly uploaded some of the most expensive handwritten volumes. These were works by the most renowned French wizards, considered great rarities.

 

One book I uploaded was titled The Veil of Isis, which was considered foundational to Enochian magic. Enochian magic involved working with otherworldly beings, from ghosts to creatures far more terrifying than Dementors. It was a perfect addition to my Archive.

 

Another book I acquired was The Spheres of Yetzirah, the first written text on Jewish mysticism and magic. It would broaden my horizons in many ways. Its most intriguing section was about creating golems, a rare art.

 

I knew the bookstore had many more fascinating books, but I didn’t have time for a full download session. Still, knowing what was there, I could plan a future visit.

 

Nothing else particularly interesting happened, though we continued walking through the streets of magical Paris, discussing various topics. By evening, we returned to the Delacours' house, where Fleur asked for help with her Transfiguration assignment. The task was simple for me, but for her, it was a bit more challenging.

 

Little Gabrielle was also there, but she didn’t interfere, playing quietly with a magical toy. After dinner, I retreated to my room and continued uploading books into my Archive.

 

The next day wasn’t much different from the previous one. The only difference was that no meetings had been scheduled. Everything else was simple and pleasant. Fleur seemed more at ease and happily shared her interests and her life with me.

 

In the evening, they were getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, I continued uploading books into my Archive, though I postponed their analysis for later.

 

The next morning, we set off for Lyon. We used a Portkey, as neither Fleur nor Gabrielle could yet manage long-distance travel on their own.

 

Lyon greeted us with sweltering heat and streets teeming with wizards of all sorts. For many, Lyon was a starting point on their way to Flamel’s funeral. You could hear all sorts of languages—English, as well as strange clicks and ululations. And, of course, there were incidents.

 

There were plenty of Ministry employees and Aurors, but even they couldn’t handle the situation, so reinforcements had been called in from other countries. As a result, you either had to stay with large groups or slip between them on your own.

 

It was obvious, even to the most clueless wizard, that finding a place to stay would be nearly impossible—or astronomically expensive.

 

"There’s no way we’ll be able to do anything here," I said to the Delacours. Amel and Apolline nodded in agreement. I could feel Apolline’s slight regret at having come here. She was also a bit worried about her daughters, who were attracting a lot of unwanted attention from wizards of non-French origin. The danger to them was very real.

 

"I agree," Apolline said. "Shall we head to Les Baux-de-Provence instead?"

 

"Do you have the coordinates?" I asked. "Or maybe a Portkey?"

 

"I have a Portkey," Amel said. "Free activation."

 

"Then let’s go," I said. "There’s not even a place to make tea here."

 

Leaving Lyon wasn’t difficult, though the crowds did present some challenges. Despite my height, I was able to carve a path through. Once we found a small open space, we didn’t waste time, activating the Portkey and teleporting to our destination.

 

A moment later, we arrived at a small green clearing with a stunning view of the sprawling French countryside. Les Baux-de-Provence was nestled among green hills and vineyards, its narrow, steep streets and brightly colored houses looking like something out of a fairy tale, with a fountain in the central square.

 

The air was filled with intoxicating aromas.

 

Behind us were breathtaking mountains that looked like the teeth of some enormous creature.

 

Just outside the town were scattered tents, and groups of wizards wandered about. If it weren’t for all of this, the view would have been truly beautiful. Flags fluttered above many of the tents, perhaps indicating where the occupants had come from or what organizations they belonged to. Occasionally, wizards on broomsticks would fly up into the sky, disappearing from view within seconds. Between the tents, people bustled about, going about their business.

 

The tents themselves were quite uniform in design—mostly black or other dark shades, creating a somewhat gloomy picture.

 

"Well, here we are," Amel said. Gabrielle clung to him a little tighter, clearly intimidated by the large crowd, which was understandable. "There are certainly a lot of people here."

 

"Look!" Fleur pointed.

 

We all turned to see a massive flag on a solitary peak, bearing a symbol that looked familiar. If I wasn’t mistaken, it was the same one Nicholas Flamel had used to sign his early works.

 

Two wizards on broomsticks were approaching us, dressed in black robes with deep hoods.

 

"Who are you?" a young woman’s voice asked.

 

"Amel Delacour, with family," Amel introduced himself.

 

"Timothy Jodie," I added.

 

The witch in the black robe descended and deftly dismounted from her broom. In her hand appeared a long scroll and a quill.

 

"Would you like to be placed next to each other?" she asked.

 

"That would be preferable," Apolline said.

 

"You’ve been assigned lots K-349 and K-350," the witch said, producing two slips of paper. One she handed to me, the other to Amel. They were maps marking our lots, which were next to each other, as requested. "The rules are simple: no fighting, no alcohol, no disturbances. Duels must be conducted in the dueling area. You can buy food from licensed vendors of the French Ministry of Magic. Just be decent people, and everything will be fine. Any questions?"

 

There were no questions, only nods.

 

"And lastly, the funeral procession will take place in three days. It will start at the home of the esteemed Nicholas Flamel here in Les Baux-de-Provence and proceed to that flag."

 

She pointed to the flag we had already noticed.

 

"The path of the procession is marked on your maps," she said. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going. Goodbye."

 

Indeed, the map showed a wide road labeled ‘Funeral Road’. It couldn’t be confused with anything else.