Young Celestial Wizard [Celestial Grimoire, Harry Potter]

Harry kept staring at the floor until Perenelle's gentle voice broke through his thoughts. "Come, let's discuss our travel plans. I've always wanted to show you the magical sites of Greece."

Nicolas settled into a plush armchair, summoning a large map that unfurled itself across the coffee table. "Athens has some magical districts hidden beneath the Acropolis. Though personally, I'm more interested in visiting Knossos - the magical section there has some of the oldest known alchemical writings."

Harry moved closer to examine the map, and his earlier disappointment was temporarily forgotten as he traced the dotted lines marking magical locations. His eyes lingered on Delphi when a familiar whisper touched his Hun Soul - the Hero's Journal suggesting something significant would happen there.

"What about Delphi?" Perenelle asked, noticing Harry's interest. "The Oracle's cave is still an important site for the divination art, even if the Pythia no longer gives prophecies."

Harry didn't want to make it obvious that he wanted to go there, so he made up an excuse. "I read that it was one of the most important magical sites in ancient Greece. Wouldn't it make sense to start there?"

"Actually, that's quite logical," Nicolas muttered, drawing circles on the map with his wand. "Delphi is perfectly positioned for a northern route through Greece's magical sites. We could continue to Thessaly afterwards..."

The Flamels started discussing logistics, and Harry felt a bit guilty for his little deception. But he needed adventures - real ones, not carefully controlled experiments in a basement. How else could he strengthen his divine healing enough to help Charlotte? The cursed scars from the empowered boggart's dark magic weren't going to heal themselves, and his current level of faith wasn't enough.

"When can we leave?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Well, we'll need to prepare proper documentation, arrange portkeys..." Nicolas began listing tasks on a piece of parchment.

"And you'll need proper traveling robes," Perenelle added. "The ones we got in Place Cachée are lovely, but Greek winters can be quite cold in the mountains."

Harry nodded along. The Hero's Journal wouldn't guide him somewhere without good reason. There would be a chance to prove himself there - something challenging enough to increase people's faith in the Boy-Who-Lived, but not so dangerous that the Flamels would stop him entirely. Hopefully.

---Three Days Later---

The ancient ruins of Delphi was nestled in the mountains, stone structures and fallen columns scattered among terraces that overlooked a large valley. Harry stood with Nicolas and Perenelle at the entrance to the archaeological site, momentarily distracted by something new.

Crowds of tourists milled about the ruins, their cameras flashing and voices echoing off old stone. Harry found himself frozen in place, because he was witnessing something he had never seen before in his life.

These were Muggles. Real, living Muggles, not just descriptions from books or passing mentions in conversations. Parents guided small children between columns, teenagers posed for photos, and elderly couples consulted guidebooks while wearing odd clothing - pants and shirts with no robes in sight.

What struck Harry most wasn't their strange attire, but how utterly normal they appeared otherwise. They had the same faces, same expressions, same basic movements as any witch or wizard.

"Harry?" Perenelle touched his shoulder gently. "What's wrong?"

"I've never actually seen Muggles before," Harry admitted quietly, still watching the crowds. "I mean, I've read about them, but..." He trailed off, trying to articulate the strangeness of the situation.

Nicolas and Perenelle exchanged a quick glance, and Harry could tell they hadn't considered this gap in his experience. Growing up entirely within Hogwarts' magical boundaries had left him more isolated from the non-magical world than most young wizards.

"They're just people, dear," Perenelle said softly. "Different customs and different tools, but people all the same."

Harry nodded at Perenelle's words, still watching a young girl chase pigeons between columns while her parents laughed.

"There's actually quite an extensive magical community right beneath our feet," Perenelle mentioned as they began walking along the tourist path. "We could have apparated directly there, but sometimes it's nice to take the scenic route."

They passed through groups of tourists taking photos with their cameras and guides explaining the site's history in various languages. Harry found his attention repeatedly drawn to them despite his best efforts. A teenager was showing something in a glossy tourist guidebook to his friends, while an elderly man sketched the ruins in a notebook.

The Temple of Apollo sat on the highest terrace of Delphi, though 'sat' might have been too generous a term. What remained were damaged pillars and a cracked stone floor, with small signs explaining what each section might have been.

"See that particular fissure there?" Nicolas pointed to a deep crack running through the temple floor. "When a magical person approaches it..." He walked closer, and the crack began spreading wider, transforming into smooth stone steps that led down into darkness. "Rather clever bit of enchantment, that. The moldus see nothing but shadows."

A tour group walked past them, their guide telling them something about geological formations while the magical staircase was right next to them in plain sight.

"Shall we?" Perenelle asked, already taking out her wand to cast Lumos.

Harry walked the stone steps behind Nicolas and Perenelle, watching as the entrance sealed itself behind them. The staircase wound downward in a gentle spiral, each step smoothed by centuries of footsteps.

He couldn't help but pause slightly when they exited the staircase. It was an enormous cave in which streets had been carved directly into the bedrock. Ancient Greek amphoras floated at regular intervals on both sides of the streets, each filled with flames that shone warm light. What caught Harry's attention most were the upside-down olive trees growing from the ceiling, their roots somehow growing through solid rock.

"Oracle's Way," Nicolas announced as they reached the main street. "The heart of magical Delphi."

Shop windows lined both sides of the street, most dedicated to some form of divination. Crystal balls gleamed with inner light, floating Tarot cards shuffled themselves in endless patterns, and much more.

A woman in extravagant purple robes stepped into their path, gesturing dramatically. "For just five Drachma, I can reveal your destined path-"

"No thank you," Perenelle said firmly, steering Harry past the self-proclaimed seer. "Watch out for those types, dear. The real seers don't need to advertise."

Harry nodded, noticing how for every proper-looking divination shop, several more suspicious ones crowded the street. The fraudulent seers were easy to spot - too much jewelry, too many dramatic proclamations, and far too eager to separate tourists from their gold.

"Actually," Nicolas said, "speaking of real seers - an old friend of mine runs a shop here. Haven't seen Alexandros in person for... must be forty years now. Would you mind if we paid him a quick visit?"

"The tea shop with the silver door?" Perenelle asked. When Nicolas nodded, she smiled. "Perfect. I could use a proper cup of Greek tea anyway."

They turned down a side street where competing fortune-tellers were arguing loudly about whose predictions were more accurate.

The two fortune-tellers were making quite a scene as Harry and the Flamels passed by. One woman wore enough bangles to sound like wind chimes whenever she moved, while her competitor had draped himself in so many symbols he looked like a walking gift shop.

"My dear," the woman called to a young tourist couple, "I see great danger in your future! Only I can guide you away from this terrible fate - for merely twenty Drachma."

"Don't listen to that fraud," the man cut in, pushing forward. "I am descended from the original Oracle herself. My predictions come straight from Apollo, and I only charge fifteen Drachma."

The tourist couple looked increasingly uncomfortable as the two seers started arguing over whose bloodline was more gifted. Harry watched with mild fascination - it was like seeing the opposite of everything he'd read about proper divination. These people were trying so hard to appear mysterious that they'd completely missed the point.

They soon approached the silver door of Alexandros' shop, and the difference compared to some of the gaudy decorations of neighboring establishments was… telling. No dramatic signs proclaimed amazing fortunes within, just a simple teacup etched into the metalwork.

"Those two give proper seers such a bad name," Nicolas muttered as they approached. "Alexandros once predicted a volcanic eruption three months in advance. He'd never dream of shouting about it in the street."

Harry glanced back one last time at the arguing fortune-tellers. The woman was now claiming she could see the tourist's past lives, while her competitor insisted he could communicate with their deceased relatives. The tourists had taken advantage of their bickering to slip away unnoticed.

The silver door swung open silently as they approached. A small bell chimed somewhere, though Harry couldn't spot any actual bell. At least he could heave a sigh of relief now that he wasn't forced to smell the overpowering scent of incense.

Inside was a cozy tea shop with simple wooden furniture and walls lined with shelves of tea canisters. Behind a dark-blue counter sat an elderly man who looked frail enough that a strong breeze might knock him over. His eyes, though clouded with age, widened with recognition.

"Nicolas Flamel," the man said in Greek. "I'd recognize you from anywhere, even with that youthful look you're wearing."

Nicolas laughed warmly. "Alexandros, old friend. You're looking..."

"Like death warmed over?" Alexandros finished with a dry chuckle. "No need to be polite. These old bones have served me well enough."

Harry listened to their exchange with interest, the Greek words as clear to him as English thanks to his Language Comprehension. It wasn't just the words he understood, but the subtle meanings and cultural context behind them - the way Alexandros' formal Greek carried hints of an old dialect, or how his choice of words showed respect while maintaining the familiarity of old friendship.

"And here I thought you might be losing your touch," Nicolas teased. "Shouldn't a true seer have known we were coming?"

Alexandros shook his head with an amused smile. "If I made true prophecies about every old friend dropping by for tea, I'd never get any actual work done. The Sight doesn't work on command, as you well know."

"Fair enough," Nicolas conceded. "Allow me to introduce Harry Potter. Harry, this is Alexandros, one of the few genuine seers left in Greece."

When Alexandros's gaze met Harry's, the old man's clouded eyes suddenly cleared, taking on an unsettling silver sheen. His frail body went rigid, and when he spoke, his voice carried an otherworldly resonance that made the tea canisters on the shelves vibrate:

"Through paths of light the pure one soars,

While deeper shadows line the doors.

Each gift consumed births greater thirst,

Till sweetest honey turns to worst.

When dawn-light dims to dusk's desire,

The truth lies burning in the fire."

The silver faded from Alexandros's eyes, and he slumped slightly in his chair. "Well," he muttered, reaching for a cup of tea with slightly shaking hands, "that was unexpected."

"Well, well," Nicolas let out a long sigh, "it seems the Sight does work on command after all, old friend."

Alexandros took a long sip of tea before responding. "Not on command. Never on command. But sometimes..." He glanced at Harry with an odd expression. "Sometimes the Sight has its own priorities."

"Was that prophecy about me?" Harry asked carefully. The verses tumbled through his mind, each line carrying implications that worried him. The mention of gifts particularly caught his attention – what was it referring to?

The offers? Dragon hearts? Faith? Something else?

"Prophecies are peculiar things," Alexandros leaned forward in his chair. "They show what might be, what could be, or what must be. But they rarely show why or how." He poured four fresh cups of tea, the liquid a deep amber color that smelled of mountain herbs. "Sometimes understanding comes only after events happen as they should."

Harry accepted his cup, noting how the old seer's hands had stopped shaking. "But the 'pure one' - that seems rather specific, doesn't it?"

"Purity can mean many things," Perenelle interjected gently. "In alchemy, in magic, in intent..."

"Indeed," Alexandros nodded. "Though I must say, in all my years of giving prophecies, this is one of the rare times I've had one arrive with such... certainty." He studied Harry over the rim of his teacup. "Usually they're more abstract, more open to interpretation. This one felt different."

Harry took a careful sip of the tea, letting the warm liquid settle his thoughts. The prophecy's words kept repeating in his mind, especially the part about gifts and honey turning sour.

"Well," Nicolas said, breaking the thoughtful silence, "at least it wasn't all doom and gloom. Better than that prophecy you gave in 1862 about the plague of acid-spitting locusts."

Alexandros chuckled weakly. "Don't remind me. I couldn't look at insects for months after that one."

"Let's not dwell too much on prophecies," Nicolas said, setting down his teacup. "They have a way of becoming self-fulfilling when people obsess over them. Sometimes a prophecy is just the Sight having a bit of fun."

"But-" Harry started to protest, before Perenelle touched his shoulder gently.

"Nicolas is right, dear. I've seen too many wizards drive themselves half-mad trying to interpret every little detail. It might not even be about you at all."

Harry wanted to point out that the timing seemed too convenient to be coincidence, but held his tongue. The Hero's Journal hadn't given any hints about the prophecy's meaning either.

Nicolas took another long sip before changing the subject. "How are things in Delphi lately, old friend? Still keeping the tourists from stumbling into magical areas?"

Alexandros's face fell slightly. "Actually, the past few days have been rather chaotic. Did you arrive through the Temple entrance?"

"We did," Nicolas confirmed. "Noticed quite a crowd up there."

"That's part of the problem," Alexandros sighed. "One of the ancient protective charms failed three days ago. The ones that help keep the Mangkl away from sensitive areas." He used the Greek word for Muggles naturally. "Now they're wandering into places they shouldn't, and it's causing all sorts of trouble."

Harry perked up at this, momentarily moving past the prophecy to more immediate concerns… adventure. "What kind of trouble?"

"Magical creatures have been spotted where they wouldn't normally be," Alexandros explained. "Yesterday, four Marble Serpents almost attacked a Mangkl family near the eastern ruins. If someone hadn't been there to interfere..." He shook his head. "We were lucky."