In the hall, Lucien's voice was clear and steady, painting a picture of a future connected by "SwiftSpeak."
The young students listened entranced, unable to stop the image from forming in their minds: everyone holding a thin, light book, and with just a thought, sending their words, voices, and even the scene before their eyes instantly to friends far away.
They could chat freely across vast plains, towering mountains, and even boundless oceans, sharing their lives without obstruction and in near real-time...
The competitors who had just been competing on the same stage as Lucien also found their thoughts drifting. Some were silent from shock, some excited by the inspiration, and others felt their emotions surging as they saw a broader world.
Fleur stood in the crowd, her gaze involuntarily following the figure on stage.
Lucien was calmly explaining his vision. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, plating his surroundings with a faint golden edge.
How are boys and girls attracted to each other?
Is it outstanding looks, a brilliant mind, a unique personality, dazzling achievements, or that indescribable "feeling"?
Fleur couldn't quite tell at this moment. Was the light shrouding Lucien—making it hard to look away—the warm sun from outside the window, the style and confidence the boy himself displayed, or perhaps—
Was it the shimmering waves quietly lit up in her own eyes?
On the other side, Ryman quietly watched Lucien, who was being scrutinized, listened to, and given high praise by a group of prominent figures. Intense envy and yearning churned in his chest.
After spending this time together, age, house, blood status... In Lucien, Ryman had already disregarded these things he used to care about.
Slytherins admired ambition and strength; they would only be subdued by true power and glory.
At this moment, several profound memories inexplicably flashed through Ryman's mind: when he first revealed his magical talent to his family as a child, when he wrote to tell his mother after receiving his Hogwarts acceptance letter and being sorted into Slytherin, when he first formally studied the Selwyn family alchemy with his father...
Each time, he would hear a similar phrase:
"Be proud of your talent, be proud of your bloodline, and then, go chase your own glory!"
For over a decade, Ryman had also asked himself many times: What is true glory?
Is it the praise and flattery of others? Is it one's own pride and loftiness?
Ryman looked up, his gaze fixing once again on Lucien on stage—the boy had brought out a creation capable of changing many people's lives and was depicting a grander future.
To leave a mark on the world with value created by one's own hands, pushing forward an entire era!
This is what a glorious one should be!
...
At the judges' table, light flickered in the eyes of several alchemists. They saw far more than just an award-winning work.
"There is much to be done..." Professor Rosier muttered to himself. Technical difficulties could be overcome, funds could be raised; the key lay in the popularization of alchemy.
Alchemy was not only a profound skill for exploring mysteries but also the texture of deep wizarding life, solving problems and bringing convenience.
Wizards could absolutely, and should, actively learn and absorb excellent ideas from Muggle development, then transform and sublimate them with unique magical means, internalizing them as the driving force for the magical world's advancement!
Continuous learning, continuous creation, innovating magical technology, and using life-improving alchemical products to promote social progress—this was the right path to keep the magical world vital and even lead the era.
Conversely, if they continued to sniff at everything non-magical and stand still, being left behind by the times was probably only a matter of time.
Or rather, in some areas, wizards had already fallen behind.
This thought made the expressions of several older alchemy masters a few shades graver.
Take the most intuitive lethal means, for example.
A wizard's most powerful attack magic was naturally the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra. The victim died instantly, with no defense.
But what percentage of the total population were wizards who could successfully cast this curse and fully unleash its power in actual combat?
And Muggles?
Just those most basic firearms, a small bullet, was enough to take a life—whether a Muggle or a careless wizard.
But these firearms... even a child could learn to pull the trigger!
Not to mention those Muggle weapons of mass destruction: machine guns, artillery, intercontinental missiles, and even—that destructive weapon that stole the power of the sun...
Several older wizards had once heard or seen with their own eyes the prophecy Grindelwald displayed years ago: Muggles using their technology, using their weapons, to bring war to an unprecedented height, more tragic and more violent.
Just over a decade after that prophecy, the tragic scenes in the prophecy were realistically reenacted on the European continent, perhaps even surpassed!
The wizarding population was already far smaller than that of Muggles, always relying on hiding and magic to protect themselves.
Even in the past, when Muggle technology was far from reaching its current state, wizards had to hide their existence!
So what about now?
In this era where Muggle probes could peer into the deep sea and starry sky, and weapons could instantly destroy cities, was that hidden veil of the magical world even more fragile than wizards were willing to admit?
Lucien's "SwiftSpeak," in their eyes at this moment, seemed to be no longer just a communication tool.
It was more like a symbol, a revelation: if the magical world did not want to quietly fall behind or even fall into crisis, it must open its eyes, embrace change, and guide the creativity of magic toward learning, progress, and connection.