In fact, Lucien's talent for the Dark Arts was extremely high, reaching SS+, thanks to Loki's Mask. He simply had never had the opportunity to truly develop it.
Then again, if there ever came a time when he genuinely had the opportunity to go all out in the Dark Arts, that itself would probably mean the world had fallen into quite a mess...
Still, talent alone was not enough.
The guidance of those who had come before was crucial, whether through a teacher's personal instruction or through the inheritance preserved in classic texts.
Only by learning the knowledge and experience accumulated by previous generations could one advance more steadily and efficiently.
Master what was already known first, then create something new.
But that brought him back to the same problem.
Advanced texts on the Dark Arts were difficult to obtain, and true masters of curses were even harder to find.
Lucien quickly reviewed his connections in his mind.
Teacher Nicolas and Mr. Newt could certainly help, but he would have to be extremely tactful when bringing up the subject.
If he directly told them that he wanted to study the Dark Arts or curses, he would probably frighten both of them.
Lucien did not want to put too much strain on the hearts of two elderly men.
Hmm.
It would still be most appropriate to approach Dumbledore first.
The two of them had already discussed the Dark Arts in depth, so Lucien could simply explain his thoughts and needs honestly.
After all, his reason for studying curses this time was not to harm anyone, but to save people.
He wanted to cure Nagini's bloodline curse, along with any other victims of bloodline curses he might encounter in the future.
That was a perfectly legitimate reason.
Moreover, Dumbledore himself possessed extraordinary knowledge of the Dark Arts. Although he probably had not personally used or studied them in depth for many years, his knowledge and insight remained.
Most importantly...
Of the two wizards in the world who had gone furthest in the field of the Dark Arts, one had been reduced to a lingering remnant of a soul drifting somewhere unknown, while the other was "spending his twilight years" in Nurmengard.
And as for the one in Nurmengard, Lucien knew that Dumbledore would definitely be able to contact him...
...
Inside the Great Hall of Beauxbatons, crystal chandeliers cast brilliant light across the room, making every relief and tapestry shimmer.
The award ceremony proceeded in an orderly fashion. Madame Maxime sat in the seat of honour, flanked by several guest judges and professor representatives from the three schools.
Below the stage, the contestants and spectating students sat quietly, waiting for the moment that had long since lost all suspense.
The winner of this Alchemical Tournament had already become fairly obvious after the first written exam. Once Lucien secured consecutive perfect scores in the first three rounds, his victory was essentially assured.
After his final alchemical creation, "Instant Speech," was unveiled, the competition was completely decided. Everyone knew that it could no longer be regarded as merely an "excellent student work."
"And now, please welcome the overall champion of this tournament, Lucien Grafton of Hogwarts, to the stage to receive his award."
Madame Maxime's voice echoed throughout the hall.
Applause erupted like a wave as Lucien walked to the front under everyone's gaze.
After receiving the elegantly crafted golden trophy and a heavy chest containing one thousand Galleons in prize money, Lucien gave a slight bow in acknowledgment.
Flashes of light flickered one after another as cameras faithfully recorded the moment.
Below the stage, Professor Shafiq's smile was exceptionally bright. She was already calculating how to ask Dumbledore for leave once they returned to Hogwarts and how to arrange her holiday to make up for all the hard work she had endured during this period.
Well, leading the team had objectively been hard work, even if she had not actually done very much.
After the award ceremony, a banquet was held according to custom.
It was not particularly large, consisting mainly of the judges, Beauxbatons professors, the contestants, and a few outstanding Beauxbatons students.
Including these young people served two purposes. On one hand, it kept the gathering from feeling too empty. On the other, it gave them an opportunity to broaden their horizons.
After all, in the wizarding world, professions such as Alchemy and Potions still retained some elements of the traditional apprenticeship system.
After graduating from a wizarding school, if a young wizard truly wanted to enter the profession, they often first needed to gain the preliminary approval of a master and then study under them.
To put it bluntly, that meant working like a dog for their mentor.
After enduring this for several years, or even a decade, those who performed well might finally become formal members of the profession.
Then they would continue enduring...
Until one day, they could finally stand on their own.
So a banquet like today's was undoubtedly a rare opportunity for young people hoping to enter this circle to make themselves known.
Simply becoming familiar to one of the masters might lead to a life-changing opportunity.
However, because of a certain person's presence, nearly all the attention at the banquet was focused on the guest of honour.
"Grafton, if you were French, the Golden Fleur-de-lis Medal would surely be yours in the future," an elderly white-haired alchemist said with a sigh, holding a wine glass.
In the French wizarding world, the Fleur-de-lis Medal held a status comparable to Britain's Order of Merlin.
Gold was its highest rank, equivalent to the Order of Merlin, First Class, and was likewise awarded only to those who had made significant contributions to the wizarding world.
"Grafton, would you consider joining our Sage Alchemy Association?" another judge asked enthusiastically. "Our association has always welcomed truly talented young people."
"Oh? So there are no nationality restrictions on membership anymore?" another voice immediately chimed in teasingly. "Lucien, it would be more convenient to join our local Alchemy association. After all, you'll be spending most of your time in Britain."
Watching Lucien surrounded by several Alchemy Masters, each competing to recruit him, the other students could only stand nearby and cast envious glances in his direction.
Those Alchemy associations were organisations they would not even dare dream of joining, and those masters were people whose names they had only ever seen in journals.
Yet now, all of them were gathered around a boy several years younger than themselves.
Some sighed inwardly, some quietly envied him, and others tried to imagine what it would feel like to stand in his position.
But after thinking about their own modest abilities, they silently abandoned the thought.
Just then, Lance, wearing his monocle, suddenly spoke.
"Grafton, I just remembered. Don't you also run several shops and sell your own alchemical products?"
As a French alchemist, Lance had spent the past few years immersed in his own research and had paid little attention to outside affairs.
But the name "Lucien" had always sounded vaguely familiar.
Only now did he remember that the name seemed to be connected to several alchemical products circulating on the market.
Lucien admitted it readily.
"Yes. I own a few small shops."
Hearing this, Lance could not help offering some advice.
"Grafton, I suggest you don't waste too much of your attention on commercial profit." He adjusted his monocle, his expression sincere. "The path of Alchemy requires an enormous investment of time and energy. Leave business matters to other people. Are you short on money? Doesn't your master give you enough to spend?"
He looked as though he were ready to open his own purse and offer financial support the moment Lucien nodded.
Lucien smiled helplessly.
He could hardly tell him that it was the price he had to pay for his Alchemy talent.
After thinking for a moment, he could only give an answer that was not entirely false.
"It's not that I'm short on money. I just... enjoy the feeling of money coming in."
Lance pursed his lips, looking slightly disappointed. He had originally been about to mention that he possessed quite a substantial fortune himself.
However, everyone else present quickly accepted Lucien's explanation.
He was a genius, after all.
What genius did not have a few quirks?
It was not as though he were the sort of person who became annoyed on the way to school and casually used Avada Kedavra to kill a few people for amusement.
Simply enjoying making money was actually a rather admirable hobby.
"A young man who likes making money clearly has ambition," Professor Laurent said with a chuckle, raising his glass. "Come, let us toast to Lucien's ambition!"
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