As all the judges took their seats, the final evaluation officially began.
Competitors and students returned to their respective places, and a sense of formal tension filled the air.
According to the order determined by drawing lots beforehand, the competitors stepped forward one by one to present their alchemical creations to the judges' table.
Lucien was scheduled last. As the grand finale, he sat calmly in the waiting area, watching the presentations before him.
One by one, projects were presented, demonstrated, and critiqued.
"Language Translation Earmuffs. A practical concept that offers convenience for basic cross-language communication... However, there are obvious flaws in translation accuracy and handling complex contexts... Fifteen points."
"Material Purification Sieve. Stable rune engraving, clever magical conductivity design, and a quantifiable improvement in purification efficiency for standard materials... The completion level is quite good. Nineteen points."
When Fleur introduced her creation—the Potion Stasis Vial—the eyes of several judges and professors lit up slightly.
"This is a keen concept." Beside Madame Maxime, a senior Alchemy Master leaned forward with interest. "Simulating a stable, micro-magical environment to maintain the optimal potency of the potion inside and extend its shelf life... For many potions whose effects degrade over time, this is valuable... The rune array design shows considerable detail and patience... Twenty-two points."
In all fairness, up to this point, the competitors' works and performances had been commendable.
Of course, this evaluation was from the perspective of "students."
Alchemy was a profound discipline requiring unconstrained creativity coexisting with meticulous rigor, two traits rarely found perfectly blended in the same person.
The guest judges were all seasoned alchemists who understood this deeply. Therefore, they generally viewed the works before them with a tolerant, scrutinizing attitude, more like examining practice exercises from promising juniors.
They didn't truly expect to see anything eye-opening at an inter-school exchange competition.
The alchemy professors from the three schools, dealing with young students year-round, knew the average standard for this age group even better and had anticipated the results.
Thus, compared to the guest judges' concise and direct scoring and comments, the three professors usually added a few words of encouragement for creativity or effort after giving their scores.
The only exception was the guest judge sitting near the edge of the table, a man named "Antoine Faure."
He appeared very gentle. Facing each competitor who stepped up, he listened earnestly, then offered very specific and encouraging feedback. He could always pinpoint one or two details for improvement, such as a potential optimization for a rune structure or a suggestion for a more stable alternative material.
This "Antoine Faure" was naturally Nicolas Flamel in disguise.
At first, the other professors and judges didn't have much of an impression of this unfamiliar name.
However, as he offered a few seemingly plain suggestions here and there, the experts among them felt a stir in their hearts upon closer reflection.
Those suggestions often pointed straight to the core, bypassing unnecessary complexities, with a sense of returning to simplicity.
The students on stage might only understand the specific methods for modification, but the Alchemy Masters below glimpsed a broadening of overall alchemical thinking and higher-level guidance from those simple sentences.
This made the other judges realize that this seemingly inconspicuous Mr. "Antoine Faure" possessed unfathomable alchemical skill and knowledge.
As for why they had never heard of this person before, they didn't find it strange.
Even in today's relatively connected wizarding society, there were still a few eccentric wizards who disliked mundane affairs and chose to live in seclusion, hiding in some remote forest or valley to immerse themselves in their magical research.
Potioneers and Alchemists were high-risk groups for such "symptoms."
The presentations and scoring for the first few competitors were completed one by one. The atmosphere in the hall, building upon the accumulated scores and critiques, seemed to be pushing toward a climax.
"The final competitor, from Hogwarts, Lucien Grafton."
Lucien stood up composedly and walked onto the stage under everyone's gaze.
He wasn't holding any oddly shaped or glowing object, just two seemingly thin hardbound books.
He placed the books on the long table in front of the judges.
Following protocol, Madame Maxime, who was presiding, spoke: "Please present your work and explain its function."
Lucien's gaze swept across the judges' table, a polite smile appearing on his face.
"Thank you, esteemed judges. Before demonstrating its function, I may need the cooperation of one judge. And this demonstration... will also require some additional 'space'."