Chapter 32

The Flamel Mansion was one of splendor and elegance, with it's sweeping hallways containing arched ceilings that were decorated various Renaissance style carvings, the gothic looking columns that lined the walls, and it's double-helix staircase. There were many paintings of various landscapes, non magical paintings that looked like original works of painters from the fifteenth and sixteenth century.

It was not very big, a three story mansion with a grand total of thirty-five rooms and a very large basement where Flamel conducted his alchemy experiments, but it was certainly one of the most beautiful places Harry had ever visited. It sort of reminded him of the images he had seen of Château de Chambord, one of the most recognizable châteaux in the world that managed blend traditional French Medieval forms with classical Renaissance structures.

As Harry walked up the double-helix staircase from the basement he had been in with Flamel, he thought through the lesson he had been imparted by the man.

He was very pleased with how this first lesson had gone. While he had not learned how to perform alchemy, Nicolas Flamel's lessons were far more comprehensive than any of the books he had managed to get his hands on. In fact, Harry wished he could forget what was written in those books since it was obvious none of those people were very good alchemists. They hadn't even gone into the laws of Equivalent Exchange!

Everything written in those books had been based around abstract theory and mysticism. The people who wrote them obviously had only a basic understanding of alchemy, enough to get by, but not much else.

So into his thoughts on his lessons with Nicolas Flamel was he that Harry did not even feel the presence near him until said presence spoke in a lilting french accent.

"Oh good, you are still 'ere. I was 'oping to catch you before you left."

Harry blinked, then turned his head. Standing before him was a woman whose beauty few could ever hope to match. Her hair was a long, silvery blond that curved down her scalp like a gently cascading waterfall. That hair framed a face that looked like it had been crafted by the hands of a thousand angels in an effort to show the mortals of this world what perfection looked like.

Wide, almond shaped blue eyes were set on either side of a small, attractive nose, and below that were a pair of full, ruby red cupid bow lips. Her face was soft and complimented her creamy white skin perfectly. Harry, with his constant need to observe and catalog everything he had seen and commit it to memory, noted that Perenelle Flamel's face was perfectly symmetrical, with not a single flaw to be seen.

Even Harry, who had never thought of females with any romantic connotations, could recognize this woman's beauty for what it was. According to a dissertation he had once read on male instincts and their desire to find suitable mates, Perenelle Flamel was the kind of woman any man would drop their significant other for if they had they thought they had a chance with her. She had all of the physical qualities listed as to what physical feature's men find attractive in women.

Like when they first met, Perenelle was wearing very expensive designers clothing. Situated on her torso was a white silk sleeveless blouse featuring a high neckline with an off centre self tie bow fastening, a contrasting black micro polka dot print, a tall keyhole cut to the front and a straight cut hem. The blouse showed off both her slender arms and full-bodied figure in a way that would have men turning their heads fast enough to snap their own necks.

A black wool mini skirt with a waistband with belt loops, button fastening rear pockets and a concealed side zip fastening did very little to cover her long legs as they stretched around her firm, shapely rear, allowing for her exceptionally healthy thighs and calves to be seen by any hypothetical witnesses. Her outfit ended with a pair of black leather sandals that featured an open toe, a panel strap across the foot, a thick strap around the ankle with a buckle fastening, a silver tone and black stripe print and a flat sole.

Harry recognized the clothing as designer clothes from Yves Saint Laurent, one of the most famous French fashion designers in the world, and one of the most expensive as well. Just looking at the outfit Perenelle was wearing, Harry could tell each separate article could likely cover the cost of his entire wardrobe.

He wondered if it was wrong of him to feel envious that she was wearing such expensive and fashionable clothes? Those clothes practically screamed wealth and good taste.

Thankfully, his observations only lasted for a second. Quick enough that he was able to recover himself that Perenelle only took minor amusement in his observing of her.

"Good day, Madame Perenelle," Harry spoke, bowing before the woman. He then looked up and tilted his head. "What did you want to speak with me about?"

"Your clothes," Perenelle said, sniffing at his form fitting jeans and dark green T-shirt in distaste. "zey simply will not do. We must get you some more befitting to your status."

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