(Word Count: 1,250)
"Do you have everything you need?" Sirius asked, "Wait, what am I asking? Of course you do."
Harry patted his trunk necklace. It was the best purchase he'd ever made. "Yup! I'm all packed."
"Alright, let's go!" Sirius took a pinch of floo powder and they travelled to the ministry. They would be travelling the magical way to France to avoid the busy airport traffic, and to make the travel time practically nonexistent. It was far more convenient.
They were travelling to France a few days before the tournaments started so he could meet up with Hermione before she had to go back. Because of this, Professor Flitwick wouldn't be travelling with them, and would meet them there in two days, the day before everything started.
They came out in the large black marble hall lined with fireplaces bursting on and off in green fire as others walked out of them. In the crowded thoroughfare of the Ministry, the hall buzzed with more than just conversation. Wrackspurts flitted around en masse through the crowd. Harry grimaced, both at the disgust of seeing bugs flying into people's ears, but at the wall of voices echoing around his head.
How he hated crowds now.
He took the moment needed to push all of the voices back into the corner of his mind so he wasn't overwhelmed. As for the wrackspurts, he anticipated this and wore his cork necklace. All wizards were odd, so what did it matter if he wore a bit of cork?
"This way, Harry," Sirius led them through to the far end of the hall opposite to the famous statue showing "magical cooperation" with the other magical races. Here, they encountered the magical equivalent to customs. A single help desk, manned by three attendants.
To travel to another country here in the UK, they needed to apply for a travel permit, where they needed to give details like where they were going, how long, why, and they log what wand they had. It was all a bit mental. But when they learned that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was going to participate in the U-15 dueling tournament, they pushed along all the paperwork quickly and he got the travel permit nearly the same day. They seemed excited that Magical Britain might finally have a win abroad.
That was days ago.
Now, these attendants simply checked their travel permits and directed them to the correct fireplace. No baggage checks, no screenings. Security was pretty much non-existent. Harry imagined that it would be very easy to smuggle things into and out of countries. Perhaps by design?
They made their way to their designated fireplace. It had a pot of floo powder set on a stand next to it. Sirius grabbed a handful and said "Ministère des Affaires Magiques," which simply meant the ministry of magical affairs in French. The empty fireplace lit up in a torrent of emerald green flames.
They walked through it and came out on the other side of the channel.
The hall they were now in appeared very similar to the one they had just left. It was a large hall lined with a series of fireplaces on either side. Only, instead of the black marble bricks, this one had white bricks, and the fireplaces here were outlined in horseshoe hearths, or the omega symbol arching over the fireplace.
They went to the exit, where there was a queue for everyone that was entering the country.
When it was finally their turn, the attendant had a bored look on her face, just going through the routine of asking questions. "What are your names?" She said in a thick French accent.
"Sirius Black and Harry Potter," Sirius answered for the two of them.
"Reason for vi—" The attendant paused as the names registered in her mind. "Mon Dieu, Harry Potter? Why are you here?" She slipped back into French in her surprise.
"I'm here to participate in the U-15 dueling tournament," He responded in French, though he had his own heavy accent. Knowing the words were very different than actually speaking them. His tongue wasn't used to them.
"My, you speak French! Your pronunciation could use some work but other than that, it's great! So, you're here for the dueling tournaments? Hmmm… I don't usually watch it, but if the famous Boy-Who-Lived is a part of it, I might have to." The attendant stamped their travel permits and handed them back. "Welcome to France, Lord Black, Lord Potter."
Hmm… She hadn't even checked their wands.
They made their way into the main courtyard of the French Ministry and found the Grangers waiting for them.
"Harry!" Hermione ran forward and gave him a big hug. "Oh, you're just going to love it here! I found the absolute best bookstore in the world! I have to show you!"
"Really?" Harry asked, her excitement was contagious and he couldn't help but smile.
"Really! It's got loads of magic books! Well, by that I mean enchanted. Some of them fly around! It's called Librairie Magillard, " Hermione explained.
"We'll have to visit it then. It's been too long since I've bought any books. Might as well get some that fly!" Harry said.
"Before any of that, we have to stop by the bank to exchange some money," Sirius said.
"Right," Dan agreed. "You'll have to exchange some of your galleons for the bezant coins they use here, Harry."
Just like any non-magical country, all the magical counterparts had their own currency. Magical Britain and the whole UK area used the well known galleons, sickles and knuts. Meanwhile, Magical France used a different set of coins that had the bezant and its lower denomination the centime. There were 100 centimes in one bezant, and one bezant was worth around 2 galleons, give or take a couple of sickles. Where a galleon was a round coin, the bezant was octagonal.
A little fact about this coin, is that the bezant was actually the coin minted by the Byzantine empire. Its use was widespread all throughout medieval Europe. Nowadays, it's only used in the muggle world in heraldry. But it had survived here in magical France.
Besides Magical Britain and France, the MACUSA also had the Dragot, and in Germany, there was the Eisenkeiler.
Knowing this, Harry had withdrawn a large amount of galleons to exchange into bezant. A full 30,000 galleons. That should net him approximately 13,500 bezant after the fees. More than enough to last the month and still get some interesting items. If not, he could always visit the gringotts' branch here, though there would be a fee to move the gold over, hence why he brought the gold himself.
They left the French ministry and out into the "Place Cachée," or the "hidden place." It was the French equivalent to London's Diagon Alley. The Place Cachée had large beautiful buildings, the shortest building here was taller than the tallest building in Diagon Alley. It had spacious streets that were filled with various different performers casting spells, juggling 15 different balls orbiting all around them, or dancing while floating in the air. There was even a circus tent pitched in the middle of the plaza, far more spacious on the inside, and held the entire circus in it.
Diagon Alley had its own, wonky, whimsical charm in its crooked buildings, and Harry loved it. But standing here seeing the fun displays of magical performances, Harry fell in love with the wizarding world all over again.
Dan led them to the "Banque de la Magie Française," or the French Magic Bank, to make the exchange. It turned out that the bank was just across the plaza.
All the while, Hermione was telling him of all the places they had visited these past two weeks. The Phoenix Arch, which also served as the entrance to Place Cachée, the Eiffel tower, the Louvre Museum, the Notre-Dame Cathedral, and the Palace of Versailles.
They had basically gone around visiting all of the biggest tourist sites of France.
After they had exchanged their money, they were now ready to explore!