The award ceremony was over. Time to say goodbye and head back to school.
Out front of Beauxbatons, students and teachers from all three schools were trading final hugs and handshakes under the pale winter sun. Durmstrang's crew, led by their professors, filed toward the sleek classical sailing ship docked at the water's edge. The hull looked like something straight out of a medieval painting—long, graceful lines, tall masts cutting the sky.
Lucien stood a little ways off, watching the ship slip beneath the surface like a submarine until it vanished completely.
Next time I get the chance, I'm definitely visiting Durmstrang, he thought. They straight-up teach Dark Magic there. No Muggle-born kids allowed, obviously. A lot of pure-blood parents—like the Malfoys—have daydreamed about shipping their heirs off to that place.
And yeah, Durmstrang had produced Grindelwald. Too bad that particular "legendary alumni" card couldn't be played in polite conversation.
Huh. Pretty sure Grindelwald never officially graduated. Wonder what kind of messed-up shit got him kicked out…
Gotta casually pump Dumbledore for details sometime.
Across the lawn, Madame Maxime was wrapping up a quick embrace with Professor Shafiq. The two women exchanged a few low words; Shafiq's face lit up with obvious relief.
After they parted, Maxime turned, bent down, and pulled Lucien into a warm hug. Her voice was soft, teasing.
"Next time we run one of these tournaments, you're banned from competing," she murmured with a laugh. "It's downright cruel to the rest of the kids' egos." She paused, eyes sparkling. "But you're always welcome to visit Beauxbatons anytime, Lucien. Door's wide open."
Lucien felt a flicker of embarrassment. Guess that means I'm officially not counted among the 'young people' anymore.
Still, he answered smoothly, "Coming back to Beauxbatons would be an honor, Madame."
Then Fleur stepped up.
She mirrored Maxime's gesture, wrapping her arms around him in a light, proper hug. But her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear.
"If it's finished… send it as soon as you can, okay?"
Lucien knew exactly what she meant—the upgraded SwiftSpeak. He gave a small smile and nodded against her silver-blonde hair.
Off to the side, Ryman watched the whole thing, biting back a grin. Damn, this kid's got skills.
Just a few days, and the prettiest girl at Beauxbatons was already giving him a real goodbye hug. French romance was supposed to be legendary, but this? This was next level. Ryman had seen a couple of Beauxbatons girls slip Lucien love notes during the week. Not a single one had come his way.
Not that I'd accept, he reminded himself quickly. I've got a fiancée waiting at home.
…
The Thestral-drawn carriage was quiet on the ride home.
Lucien lounged by the window, chin propped on his hand, watching the ground drop away and clouds start to swirl past. His mind was already running the numbers on everything he'd gained from the Beauxbatons trip.
From a business angle, the whole exchange tournament had basically been a free worldwide product launch for SwiftSpeak. Every Ministry of Magic in Europe—and plenty beyond—had been watching. The book had slid into the public eye naturally, backed by endorsements from some of the most respected alchemy masters on the continent. That kind of credibility was pure gold for everyday adoption… and for the bigger play: getting the Ministries to help build out the magical communication hubs that would kill lag and make real-time global calls possible.
Plus, he was flying home with the championship trophy. That gave him serious leverage when he walked into Dumbledore's office to collect on their little side deal—siphoning off some of the raw emotional energy and loose magic that had settled in Hogwarts' core over the centuries. Fuel for refining a Sorcerer's Stone.
Not the full legendary version, of course. That was still way above his pay grade. But the simplified version Nicolas had taught him? That was doable. It would pump out clean, steady magical power and speed up every standard alchemical process. Perfect for powering his daily experiments and production runs.
And honestly? Crafting even the simplified stone would be a solid test of how far his own alchemy skills had come.
Lucien let his gaze drift to the white clouds rushing past the window. The carriage cut smoothly through the sky while the horizon slowly turned the deep gold of sunset.
Beauxbatons was already fading behind him.
Hogwarts waited up ahead.
And he had a lot of work to do.