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Seated among the judges, Madame Maxime listened to the hushed exchange between her own Alchemy professor and the Hogwarts faculty lead. A faint, enigmatic smile played on her lips, but she remained silent.
She knew exactly who Lucien had inherited his skills from, of course, though it wasn't her place to say it out loud.
In recent years, anyone in close contact with Nicolas Flamel could sense that the six-hundred-year-old legend was becoming increasingly detached from worldly affairs, pouring his remaining energy entirely into specific avenues of research.
Nicolas hadn't made a big show of announcing Lucien as his final apprentice. Maxime guessed this was a form of protection—Lucien was still young, and perhaps Nicolas was simply waiting for the right moment.
In fact, Maxime had a subtle feeling that Lucien's arrival had been an "accident" even for Nicolas.
It seemed this boy had injected a fresh, vibrant energy into the ancient alchemist's life—something that hadn't been there before. Reading between the lines of their recent correspondence, Maxime felt that Nicolas's mindset had actually become somewhat "younger."
The thought brought to mind a rather shocking letter she had received just days ago—a beautifully crafted envelope that looked for all the world like a formal funeral invitation.
Upon opening it, however, she found a photograph of Nicolas posing next to his own "corpse," accompanied by a note debating whether he should hold a grand public funeral to finally put an end to the prying eyes of the world.
In the past, Maxime could never have imagined a figure like Nicolas pulling such a borderline childish prank.
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Madame Maxime's musings were cut short by movement in the arena.
Lucien had left his workbench. Holding a seemingly simple crystal phial, he was walking steadily toward the judges' table.
Maxime's slender eyebrow arched slightly. Finished already?
But that thought was instantly replaced by a far more logical one: Right, he is Nicolas's student. This is perfectly normal.
Lucien's movement instantly magnetized the entire hall.
The professors stopped their whispering. The murmur of the audience surged in volume. The other competitors, still buried in their work, couldn't help but look up, casting complex glances at the boy moving with such calm assurance.
Shock, confusion, realization, scrutiny... a myriad of emotions flashed across different faces.
From her elevated seat, Madame Maxime took in the reactions with elegant detachment.
When her gaze swept over her favorite student, Fleur, she noticed something. In those usually cool, proud blue eyes, a strange light seemed to flicker—like a pebble causing ripples in a still pool.
Maxime couldn't help the amusement that sparked in her own eyes.
She hadn't missed the natural, easy interaction between Fleur and Lucien over the past few days.
And frankly, she was happy to see it.
Young people socializing was a good thing.
If she could foster a fondness for Beauxbatons in a talent like Lucien—perhaps even entice him to transfer here—that would be ideal.
In Maxime's view, Lucien's value went far beyond being "Nicolas Flamel's student." The raw potential and ability he displayed were extraordinary in their own right.
After all, why did Hogwarts hold such a lofty status in the global wizarding community? Wasn't the key factor the presence of Albus Dumbledore?
The greatest wizard of the century was the school's most dazzling calling card and its firmest foundation.
Madame Maxime had a clear intuition: provided he grew up safely, the boy walking toward her now would likely stand at the very pinnacle of the magical world.
He could very well be the next century's "Dumbledore."
The key was his youth. He wasn't a sixth or seventh-year student deeply entrenched in Hogwarts culture. If she could attract him to Beauxbatons now and cultivate his talents, it would be much easier to build a sense of loyalty to the school.
And if Lucien transferred voluntarily, Dumbledore couldn't exactly complain.
In her recent letters with Nicolas, Maxime had even sensed that the alchemist felt "uneasy" about Lucien staying at Hogwarts.
That discovery had piqued her interest immediately, and she quickly understood why. Hogwarts had become a magnet for trouble in recent years—the Chamber of Secrets attacks, the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position...
It could hardly be described as a stable environment for academic pursuit.
These ambitious thoughts flashed through Madame Maxime's mind in an instant, yet her face maintained its graceful, welcoming smile.
She watched Lucien approach and place the unassuming crystal phial on the empty spot at the judges' table with composed deliberation.
"Gentlemen," she turned to the alchemy professors, her voice warm but projecting clearly across the silence. "It appears one of our competitors has finished early. According to procedure, let us begin the evaluation."