Two barrels of liquor floated beside Lucien as he walked slowly toward the Abraxans. The falling snow seemed to part around him, leaving the hem of his robes untouched.
Sensing a stranger nearby, the herd of Abraxans turned their heads toward Lucien. Their fiery red eyes filled with instinctive caution, and they snorted, spraying sparks and hot breath into the frigid air.
However, as Lucien got closer and they caught his scent, the wariness in their eyes diminished significantly.
Noticing this, Lucien smiled faintly. He tapped his wand, and the lids of the barrels popped open. A gentle breeze spiraled out from his wand tip, carrying the rich aroma of the alcohol toward the herd.
Catching the scent of the full-bodied liquor, the Abraxans' nostrils flared, and the last of their guard dropped. One or two of the younger foals even pawed at the ground, looking like they couldn't wait to get a taste.
"True boozehounds," Lucien mused, glancing at the single malt whiskey in the barrels. It was a favorite treat for Abraxans.
He was currently exploring the area surrounding Beauxbatons. This vast mountain range was essentially their version of the Forbidden Forest, teeming with magical biodiversity, including these local specialties, the Abraxans.
Lucien was here to observe the unique fauna and try to gather some rare ingredients for alchemy and potions.
Of course, he had applied for permission from Madame Maxime before heading out.
He was a guest, after all. He couldn't just treat the place like his own backyard or wander around like he did in the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts student, I suggest you do not go any closer. Those horses do not have good tempers."
A voice rang out from behind him—melodious, yet carrying a distinct chill.
Lucien didn't seem surprised by the sudden warning. He kept walking toward the Abraxans at the same steady pace.
"Thanks for the heads-up, Miss Delacour."
Standing in the snow about fifty feet away was a girl who looked like a snow fae.
She wore robes of silver-blue silk, with the Beauxbatons crest embroidered on the chest: two crossed golden wands, each emitting three stars.
A faint, silvery glow, like moonlight, seemed to radiate from her skin, making her stunning features look even more ethereal against the white backdrop.
Hearing Lucien identify her immediately, a flash of astonishment crossed Fleur's beautiful face.
She had been trailing him from a distance for a while. Seeing him show no reaction, she assumed he hadn't noticed her at all.
In the moment she hesitated, two juvenile Abraxans had already trotted up to Lucien.
Even though they weren't fully grown, they were already massive enough to look down at him.
Fleur instinctively started to shout a warning. Abraxans were known for their fierce dispositions and were particularly hostile toward strangers. They could attack with very little provocation.
But the scene that unfolded next made the words die in her throat.
The two Abraxans lowered their massive heads and nuzzled affectionately against Lucien's raised hand.
Lucien waved his wand. Amber streams of single malt whiskey floated out of the barrels, forming crystalline ribbons in the air.
Snap.
Lucien snapped his fingers, and a ball of orange flame ignited in mid-air.
The streams of whiskey passed through the fire, instantly warming from freezing to hot, before drifting into the waiting mouths of the Abraxans, wrapped in clouds of white steam.
Only then did Lucien turn back to look at Fleur.
"Thanks again for the warning, but I'm actually pretty good with magical creatures."
Fleur frowned slightly, her eyebrows knitting together.
"I thought a student of Nicolas Flamel would be entirely devoted to Alchemy."