Neither Holy, Nor Roman, Nor an Empire

Two hours really flew by, and the Matagots clearly had not had their fill of fun.

After coaxing them for several minutes, Vincent and Hermione finally managed to return the restaurant to its owner.

There were rather too many onlookers outside. Going back to the French Ministry of Magic from Place Furstenberg would draw far too much attention.

"Meow—"

Just as the two were worrying over it, the cats all indicated that there was no need to worry. They could return by an inconspicuous method.

Vincent opened the restaurant door dubiously. The reluctant little darlings darted outside, and in the blink of an eye, they had all vanished without a trace.

A timid little girl of seven or eight approached him. "Excuse me, why did those cute little cats run away?"

Hermione, who understood a little French, answered for him. "Because they all have homes."

She bent down and gently stroked the girl's little head. "They'd eaten their fill and played enough. The cats knew it was time to go home."

The girl nodded as if she half understood. "Will they come back?"

Hermione glanced back at Vincent and smiled. "Of course. Next time, it'll be your turn to keep them company."

Amid the girl's excited gaze and everyone else's puzzled looks, she and Vincent left the restaurant and headed for the bustling streets of Paris.

"Where are we going next?"

"Hmm... the Palace of Versailles? Notre-Dame de Paris? Champs-Élysées? The Louvre? Or the Eiffel Tower?"

Hermione tightly linked her arm through Vincent's. "We have the whole afternoon. Why not visit them all?"

"Sure."

Their first stop was the Grande Arche, followed by the nearby Louvre.

Like the British Museum, many of the Louvre's collections had been plundered through war.

The difference was that, compared with the British's savage brutality, France had acquired more through trade.

Vincent and Hermione took a brief tour inside before finally stopping before the museum's prized Mona Lisa.

Even through the thick glass, they could tell that it was merely a museum-grade replica.

But that did not mean the Louvre was passing off fakes. Many precious artworks were generally not put on public display.

As Vincent looked at the replica before him, he recalled an amusing story about its creator, Leonardo da Vinci.

The smile he could not hide made Hermione curious. "What exactly is making you so happy?"

Vincent quickly glanced around, then leaned toward her ear. "Do you remember that Leonardo da Vinci was once mistaken for a wizard by the Romans?"

Hermione smiled knowingly. "I do. Even real wizards had to admit that he was a genius through and through."

Leonardo da Vinci was born in 1452. His full name was Leonardo di Piero da Vinci.

His name literally meant "Leonardo from Vinci" in Italian, with "da Vinci" referring to his birthplace, the town of Vinci.

He was immensely learned and gifted in many fields, mastering almost every major discipline.

Painting, music, architecture, mathematics, geometry, anatomy, physiology, zoology, botany, astronomy, meteorology, geology, geography, physics, optics, mechanics, civil engineering, and more.

Merely mastering them would have been impressive enough, but he had even achieved remarkable accomplishments in all those fields.

As for why he was mistaken for a wizard, it was because he had spent some time in Rome during his old age.

At the time, the Holy Roman Empire was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire. The internal divisions caused by the Reformation, the increasingly powerful local political authorities, and the emperor's lack of true central authority all contributed to it.

In such a social environment, much of what the exceedingly low-profile Leonardo da Vinci researched became something as magical as magic itself in the eyes of the Romans.

Using concave mirrors to harness solar energy and boil water?

A movable revolving bridge?

An armored vehicle whose wheels were driven by turning a crank?

A three-barreled cannon mounted on a carriage?

Even real wizards could not understand them, let alone Romans who had evolved from ignorant country bumpkins into nouveau riche obsessed with refined extravagance.

That amusing story made Vincent and Hermione think back on their experiences over the past week.

Although they had ultimately managed to reach agreements, the leaders of certain magical governments were practically identical to the Romans of old.

Would Magical Base Station signals spread disease?

Would televisions and computers made through alchemy lower intelligence?

Would Magical Projection produce Muggle electromagnetic radiation?

They pretended to understand when they did not and spouted nonsense. If Hermione had not strongly persuaded him otherwise, Vincent would have blacklisted every one of them long ago.

Fortunately, the "Romans" were only a tiny minority. After patient explanations, they no longer continued spewing anti-intellectual nonsense.

After reflecting on it for a while, the two took another lap around the Louvre before arriving at the Avenue des Champs-Élysées outside, the famous Champs-Élysées.

The streets here were lined with lush trees, the sidewalks were exceptionally broad, and the shop buildings were not very tall.

Because of its elegant Haussmann-style architecture, it was called "Élysées."

The Champs-Élysées was not only France's premier avenue, but also a world-famous shopping street.

There were countless clothing stores, perfume shops, watch stores, and luxury car showrooms. Vincent even spotted a small Bugatti showroom.

A sapphire-blue Bugatti EB110SS rested quietly on a wine-red display platform, with an all-black EB112 four-door coupe beside it.

In a few months, the display cars inside would be replaced by the legendary Bugatti Veyron.

Against this new Speed Myth, Ferrari and McLaren could only trail behind and eat its dust.

In high spirits, Vincent and Hermione decided to continue shopping properly.

Like Milan, the Champs-Élysées held an irresistible appeal for women.

Hermione bought quite a few cosmetics. As she pulled Vincent toward the flagship store of a certain "donkey-brand," a pleasant but somewhat halting voice called out to them.

"Wayne? Are you Vincent Wayne?"

Vincent turned around in confusion and saw a young woman whose baseball cap concealed most of her face.

She wore a casual, comfortable yellow dress and held the hand of a very cute little girl.

What was strange, however, was that the little girl's glittering silver eyes had been fixed on Vincent the entire time, as though she knew him.

Vincent had no impression of her at all. He looked at the young woman. "May I ask who you are?"

The young woman removed her baseball cap, revealing an exquisitely beautiful face.

The little girl resembled her somewhat, and both of them had extremely rare silver eyes and waist-length silver hair.

Hermione instinctively tightened her grip on Vincent's arm, watching them warily as they approached step by step.

"Miss Delacour?" Vincent gave Hermione a reassuring look.

"To think we'd run into you here of all places. France really is small."

The Delacour sisters chuckled together.

The elder sister had already drawn plenty of men's attention after taking off her cap. That smile left them rooted to the spot in a daze.

Pheobe introduced her younger sister. "Wayne, this is my biological younger sister, Gabrielle."

Vincent also introduced Hermione to her. "Miss Delacour, this is Hermione Granger, my girlfriend."

After exchanging a few simple words, all four of them could clearly sense that the atmosphere around them was becoming strange.

Although half-blood Veela could not transform into harpy-like forms like pure-blood Veela, even after the astonishing beauty inherited from their mothers and their ability to enthrall men had been diluted and weakened, their innate charm was still impossible for male wizards to resist.

Pheobe and Gabrielle both had one-quarter Veela blood. If they stayed any longer, the male Muggles on the street would surely become rash and impulsive.