Even the Rochers of England Are No Good

As the banquet progressed, the alchemists no longer focused their conversations solely on Lucien.

They dispersed, giving an opportunity to the young students who had been watching longingly but had never dared to step forward.

However, when they finally mustered the courage to approach and strike up a conversation, they quickly noticed a subtle discrepancy.

The Alchemy didn't make things difficult for or look down on these truly excellent students—their attitude and words were quite amiable, but the feeling... was a little different.

This was completely different from the eagerness, eye contact, and even somewhat eagerness to Lucien that she had shown earlier.

It's a kind of "sense of distance".

It cannot be easily erased by the personalities of the two parties involved in the exchange.

It is an invisible yet real distance constructed by status, knowledge, reputation, and seniority.

The students asked questions respectfully, and the masters answered politely; the students carefully expressed their admiration, and the masters nodded gently in acknowledgment.

Everything was in accordance with etiquette, everything was just right, yet everything... was separated by a layer.

No one felt offended, but no one mistakenly believed they had integrated into that circle.

At that moment, Lucien, one of the central figures in that "circle," was chatting casually with Laurent Rosier, the alchemy professor from Beauxbatons, standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.

Their conversation ranged from cutting-edge explorations in Alchemy to the differences in teaching styles between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, and then to the rapid development of Muggle technology and the ideas that the Wizarding World could learn from it.

Although Laurent was much older, he spoke with Lucien as an equal, and occasionally even showed a thoughtful expression when discussing a particular point of view.

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 Rosier and the others in Britain?"

Rosier of Britain?

Lucien quickly searched his mind for relevant information: Rosier, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, with lineages in both Britain and France.

The professor Laurent before us is a member of the France.

Meanwhile, Rosier in Britain...

"Not familiar with it," Lucien answered truthfully.

Laurent nodded, offering a flat assessment. "It's good that we're not familiar with each other. They're not good people."

Lucien was speechless for a moment.

He hadn't expected the professor to be so direct—was he trying to advise him against having too much contact with the Rosier family in Britain?

But on second thought, Laurent's words weren't entirely unjust.

Rosier in Britain did indeed produce several Death Eaters, and the Dark Mark was genuine.

But then again...

Lucien silently thought to himself: Didn't the France branch of Rosier also produce a famous Acolytes who followed Grindelwald?

That Vinda Rosier held a rather high position among the Acolytes.

Of course, he only thought about it and wouldn't actually say it out loud.

On the other side of the hall, Nicolas and Maxime stood in front of the huge magic tapestry, talking in hushed tones.

Somehow the conversation turned to Fountain of Fair Fortune.

When Maxime mentioned this, there was a hint of a smile in his voice:

"Because of that 'little experiment' Lucien mentioned, now the girls in Beauxbatons line up every day to fetch water from the Fountain of Fair Fortune. After all, few can resist the temptation of becoming more beautiful." He paused, then added, "Of course, there are quite a few young men in line too."

She glanced at Lucien, who was talking to someone not far away, her eyes full of admiration:

"This kid is truly amazing. I really don't know where all his wildly imaginative ideas come from."

Hearing the praise for his student, Nicolas's face lit up with a smile, making no attempt to hide his pride:

"Lucien's improvements are truly ingenious. In fact, taken on its own, it could be considered a completely new alchemical creation."

Maxime was about to reply when Nicolas suddenly changed the subject, asking calmly:

"Olympe, do you want Lucien to come to Beauxbatons?"

The question was direct, but Maxime showed no embarrassment at being called out and readily admitted, "Yes."

She turned around, looked directly at Nicolas, and spoke frankly:

"Beauxbatons would be a better place for Lucien to focus on his studies."

The implication couldn't be clearer: Hogwarts was plagued by infiltrations by dark wizards, Basilisk disturbances, and constant turnover of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts —it was hardly a place to "study in peace."

Nicolas understood what she meant, but didn't respond to that, instead asking:

What are Lucien's own intentions?

Madame Maxime shook her head, a hint of helplessness in her voice. "He still insists on studying at Hogwarts. You know, with Dumbledore there, the allure of that school is truly unmatched."

Nicolas completely agree with that.

Albus Dumbledore is a name that carries immense prestige.

Regardless of his ability to manage the school, the mere fact that he sits in the Headmaster's Office elevates Hogwarts ' status in the Wizarding World.

Nicolas's gaze swept across the crowd and landed on Lucien.

The young man held a wine glass, listening intently to what Laurent was saying. His expression was focused and composed, and his eyes held a calmness beyond his years, yet occasionally revealed the sharpness of youth in his responses.

Looking at his students, Nicolas's eyes were full of satisfaction and admiration.

Then, he turned his gaze to Madame Maxime and asked with a half-smile:

"So, Olympe, you really want Beauxbatons to have a ' Dumbledore ' too?"