Chapter 262: Hogwarts' Teaching Methods?
Inside the side hall set aside for the alchemy competition, time slipped by in an atmosphere of quiet tension after Madame Maxime announced the start.
Once the initial silence had settled, the Beauxbatons students in the audience gradually relaxed and began exchanging quiet whispers.
Watching an alchemy competition was hardly exciting in itself. There was the repetitive grinding of ingredients during preparation, the long waits while materials were purified, and the seemingly monotonous task of steadily channelling magic throughout the brewing process...
The real interest lay in the competitors themselves: their composure, the fleeting expressions that escaped when they made a mistake or felt a moment of pressure, and the subtle differences in technique that reflected each school's own traditions.
It was, in its own way, a welcome distraction from the demands of everyday study.
On the judges' panel, the professors watched each competitor closely, their attention fixed on the finer details of their technique.
Seated to Madame Maxime's right was Beauxbatons' Professor of Alchemy, Laurent Rosier.
He appeared to be in his fifties, with silver-grey hair combed neatly back from a broad, stern forehead.
His features were sharply defined, especially his pale blue eyes, which remained calm and steady as they followed every movement made by the six competitors.
Laurent's family shared the same ancestry as the Rosier family of the British wizarding world. It was simply that his branch had settled in France generations earlier and established itself there.
Vinda Rosier, one of Grindelwald's most devoted followers in years past, had come from that very same family.
Laurent Rosier's own life, however, had taken a very different course from that of his infamous relative. He had kept well clear of the turmoil of his era, devoting himself instead to the study of alchemy and to teaching the discipline.
During the opening stages of the competition, the competitors handled the base materials in much the same way, and Laurent simply observed in silence.
But once the preparations were complete and the competition entered the heart of the brewing process, his expression grew steadily more intent.
This was the stage that truly revealed a competitor's foundation and skill.
Laurent firmly believed that Beauxbatons' alchemy education ranked among the finest not only on the Continent, but in the entire wizarding world. Even so, he approached this Triwizard exchange match with the curiosity of a scholar, seeing it as a rare opportunity to observe, at close quarters, the teaching methods and standards of alchemy at Hogwarts and Durmstrang, two equally venerable schools.
His gaze passed methodically from one competitor to the next.
The Durmstrang students displayed solid technique, somewhat rugged in execution but unmistakably practical. The two competitors from his own school worked with smooth, disciplined precision, perfectly reflecting Beauxbatons' customary elegance and rigour...
Then, quite suddenly, his eyes settled on the boy at the workbench to the left.
"Hm..."
Professor Rosier let out the faintest murmur, a flicker of surprise passing through his pale blue eyes.
He remembered this student well: Leonardo Grafton, the Hogwarts competitor, and the youngest of everyone taking part.
Leonardo had achieved a remarkable perfect score in both of the written examinations.
The first, which covered the fundamentals, was understandable enough. But the second paper, jointly prepared by the alchemy professors of all three schools, had drawn on a great deal of knowledge well beyond the standard curriculum, testing nothing but the breadth and depth of a student's learning and aptitude.
Yet Leonardo had answered every question correctly.
Even Laurent had found that unexpected.
Now, however, the alchemical skill Leonardo displayed during the practical round gave Laurent a far stronger sense of astonishment.
It was... an unmistakably classical style.
Knowledge and technique in the magical arts had, naturally, continued to accumulate and evolve over the centuries. Yet there was also a widely accepted truth: in some respects, the older the tradition, the greater its depth.
Many methods and theories handed down from ancient times had gradually faded into obscurity, precisely because they were too profound or demanded exceptional natural talent to master.
Modern magical education placed greater emphasis on accessibility, safety, and efficiency. As a result, many ancient techniques—immensely powerful or astonishingly refined though they were—had survived only within a handful of old families or in the hands of a few exceptionally gifted individuals.
To Laurent's experienced eye, the technique and rhythm Leonardo was employing clearly belonged to neither any modern school of thought nor any standard textbook.
It was more economical in its use of magic. The flow of magic at certain key stages followed an older style, while the way it drew upon the fundamental properties of the ingredients was noticeably bolder—almost lavish—in its approach.
Most importantly of all, despite his decades of knowledge and experience, Laurent could not identify a single obvious flaw. Every step flowed with effortless precision, and the degree of control Leonardo exercised over his magic was nothing short of remarkable.
A boy of only twelve or thirteen possessing this level of practical mastery in alchemy?
It simply defied common sense.
Had Hogwarts' alchemy teaching really reached such a standard?
Or was Leonardo simply an extraordinarily rare exception?
Still uncertain, Laurent's gaze shifted to the other Hogwarts competitor on the same row of benches, the student named Reiman Selwyn.
To Laurent's eye, Reiman's technique was exactly what one would expect from a model student: disciplined, steady, and, in the finer points of his handling, marked by the distinctive style passed down through an old British pure-blood family. Among competitors of his age, it was unquestionably excellent.
Unfortunately, comparison was inevitable.
Set beside Leonardo, whose movements were effortless and carried the unmistakable character of an older tradition, the difference between the two became impossible to miss.
Leonardo no longer looked as though he were competing at all. It was more like watching a polished demonstration in a style that was distinctly his own.
After a brief silence, Laurent turned slightly and addressed the Hogwarts professor seated beside him.
"Professor Shafiq," he said, his voice quiet but perfectly clear, "forgive my presumption, but has Hogwarts begun tailoring a different course of instruction to each student's individual strengths?"