As the banquet continued, the Alchemy Masters no longer remained gathered around Lucien.
They gradually dispersed, finally giving the young students who had been watching eagerly from the sidelines but had never dared to approach a chance to speak with them.
However, once the students gathered their courage and struck up conversations, they quickly noticed a subtle difference.
The alchemists did not deliberately make things difficult for them or look down on them. These students were genuinely outstanding, and the masters' words and manner were generally kind.
But the feeling was different.
Completely different from the enthusiasm, equality, and even eagerness to recruit talent they had shown towards Lucien earlier.
There was a sense of distance.
It was not something that could easily be bridged by either side's personality.
It was an invisible yet very real divide created by differences in status, knowledge, reputation, and seniority.
The students asked questions respectfully, and the masters answered politely. The students carefully expressed their admiration, and the masters acknowledged it with mild nods.
Everything followed proper etiquette. Everything was perfectly appropriate.
Yet there was still a barrier between them.
No one felt slighted, but neither would anyone mistakenly believe they had become part of that circle.
At that moment, one of the central figures of that "circle," Lucien, was standing before a floor-to-ceiling window with Beauxbatons' Alchemy professor, Laurent Rozier, chatting casually.
Their conversation ranged from cutting-edge developments in Alchemy to the differences between the teaching styles of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, then from the rapid advancement of Muggle technology to ideas the wizarding world might learn from it.
Although Laurent was much older, he spoke to Lucien entirely as an equal, occasionally falling into thought over one of Lucien's observations.
As they chatted, Laurent suddenly changed the subject, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.
"By the way, are you familiar with the Rosiers in Britain?"
The British Rosiers?
Lucien quickly searched his memory for relevant information.
The Rosier family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families, with branches in both Britain and France.
Professor Laurent standing before him belonged to the French branch.
As for the British Rosiers...
"Not really," Lucien answered honestly.
Laurent nodded and remarked flatly, "Good. None of them are good people."
Lucien was momentarily speechless.
He had not expected the professor to be quite so direct.
Was he warning Lucien not to become too involved with the British branch of the Rosier family?
Then again, Laurent's judgment was not entirely unfair.
The British Rosiers had indeed produced several Death Eaters, and the Dark Mark was undeniable proof of that.
But then...
Lucien muttered inwardly that the French Rosiers seemed to have produced a rather famous Acolyte who had followed Grindelwald as well.
Vinda Rosier had hardly been a minor figure among the Acolytes.
Of course, Lucien merely thought this and had no intention of saying it aloud.
Elsewhere in the hall, Nicolas and Madame Maxime stood before an enormous magical tapestry, speaking quietly.
Somehow, their conversation turned to the Beauty Spring.
When Madame Maxime mentioned it, amusement entered her voice.
"Ever since that 'little experiment' Lucien mentioned, the girls at Beauxbatons have been queuing every day to collect water from the Beauty Spring. After all, very few people can resist the temptation of becoming more beautiful."
She paused before adding,
"Of course, quite a few boys are lining up as well."
She looked towards Lucien, who was talking with someone not far away, her eyes full of appreciation.
"This child truly is remarkable. I honestly don't know where all those wild and creative ideas of his come from."
Hearing his student praised, Nicolas smiled broadly, making no attempt to hide his pride.
"Lucien's refinement is indeed ingenious. Taken on its own, it could easily be regarded as an entirely new alchemical creation."
Madame Maxime was about to respond when Nicolas suddenly changed the subject and asked calmly,
"Olympe, do you want Lucien to come to Beauxbatons?"
The question was direct, but Madame Maxime showed no embarrassment at having her intentions seen through. She admitted it frankly.
"Yes."
She turned to face Nicolas and said sincerely,
"Beauxbatons should be more suitable for peaceful study, especially for Lucien."
The implication was obvious.
At Hogwarts, Dark Wizards had infiltrated the school, Basilisks had caused trouble, and the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor changed faster than one could turn a page. It could hardly be called a place for "peaceful study."
Nicolas understood what she meant but did not take the bait. He simply asked,
"And what does Lucien himself want?"
Madame Maxime shook her head, a hint of helplessness in her voice.
"He still insists on studying at Hogwarts. You know, with Dumbledore there, that school's appeal is indeed difficult to match."
Nicolas quite agreed.
Albus Dumbledore himself was a golden signboard.
Leaving aside his management abilities, simply having him seated in the Headmaster's office gave Hogwarts a somewhat transcendent status in the wizarding world.
Nicolas's gaze swept across the crowd before settling on Lucien.
The young man held a wine glass in one hand, listening intently to what Laurent was saying. His expression was focused and composed, his eyes carrying a calmness that did not match his age, though his responses occasionally revealed the sharpness and vitality of youth.
Looking at his student, Nicolas's eyes were filled with satisfaction and approval.
Then he withdrew his gaze, looked back at Madame Maxime, and asked with a half-smile,
"So, Olympe, you really want Beauxbatons to have its own 'Dumbledore'?"
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