The Fountain of Fair Fortune sat quietly back in its original spot, and a soft chime echoed in Lucien's mind:
[Ding! Upgrade to the Fountain of Fair Fortune complete!]
Lucien let out a slow breath. The loan for those advanced earth-element runes was finally paid off.
This upgrade had gone a lot smoother than he'd expected.
For one thing, Nicolas Flamel—his teacher—had given him detailed notes on the fountain's original alchemical principles, saving him weeks of reverse-engineering and trial-and-error.
For another, having mastered advanced water, fire, and earth runes had supercharged his alchemy. Those runes massively boosted his affinity and control over the basic elements, and element manipulation was the backbone of the entire alchemical system.
Off to the side, Fleur was finally snapping out of the stunned silence she'd fallen into while watching the whole process.
Her gaze moved from the shimmering, multicolored water to Lucien's calm profile, her expression a tangled mix of emotions.
Deep down, Fleur was proud—and with good reason. She had undeniable talent, jaw-dropping beauty, and had spent her life surrounded by admiration and praise.
Her first seventeen years had been pretty much smooth sailing. The biggest disappointment she'd ever faced was probably last summer, when she visited Nicolas Flamel and didn't get chosen as his apprentice.
She'd "met" Lucien then, if only for a fleeting glance, but those rare emerald-green eyes had stuck with her. Ever since, a quiet competitive spark had flickered in the back of her mind.
She'd been looking forward to the Triwizard Tournament's alchemy challenge as her chance to finally see what the "Flamel apprentice" could really do—maybe even go head-to-head and prove she was every bit as good.
But now, before the tournament had even started, she'd seen the chasm between them with her own eyes. It felt like a canyon.
Swallowing the storm of feelings inside her, she stepped closer and fixed her eyes on the fountain, which looked exactly the same as always. She kept her voice light, like they were just chatting about the weather.
"Lucien, the Fountain of Fair Fortune… it doesn't look any different?"
She was right. The winding channels, the smooth stone walls, the central statue of a loving couple embracing—everything on the surface was unchanged.
The real changes ran deeper, in the water itself.
"I kept the appearance the same on purpose," Lucien said, making a few final tweaks with his wand. His tone was relaxed, like he was explaining a simple homework problem. "But the essence of the water has been adjusted."
He went on to give her the short version of the alchemy behind it.
The original fountain mainly cleansed and lightly nourished the skin. You'd need to use it regularly for months to see even minor results.
Now, though, the temporary "beautifying" effect had been turned into a gentle, ongoing improvement.
As people grow, little things—habits, environment, even the way they smile or speak—can slowly shift their appearance, and those shifts are almost always in the less-flattering direction.
The upgraded fountain water would gradually guide the user's features and skin toward the very best version their natural genetics allowed. It would nudge everything gently into place over time.
It combined advanced alchemy, potion theory, and—Lucien's personal specialty—transfiguration principles.
Of course, there was a limit. It could only take someone to their own theoretical peak. It wasn't going to turn everyone into a supermodel.
Fleur listened intently, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine interest. She was clearly tempted.
"That sounds amazing. Mind if I test it out?"
Lucien glanced at her face—naturally, without thinking—and shook his head with a small smile.
"For you? This fountain would pretty much just act like a regular mirror."
Fleur blinked, then the corner of her mouth curved up in understanding. Her eyes narrowed playfully.
"You really do fit that classic British gentleman stereotype—compliments so subtle they almost sneak past you."
Well, that was probably the difference between French and British styles, Lucien thought. Though personally, he just preferred a little understatement—he'd picked that up from some old wizarding texts he loved.
Still, he kept a polite smile and nodded. "Maybe. Sometimes the quiet kind of compliment lingers longer."
"Oh?" Fleur arched an eyebrow and leaned in just a touch, her silver-blonde hair catching the light. "So you're saying what I told you earlier today up in the mountains was… too direct?"
Lucien immediately remembered the moment. Up on the ridge, Fleur had looked straight at him and said—in the lilting Veela tongue—"Your eyes are clearer and more beautiful than lake water on a summer day."
Good thing he was used to the occasional over-the-top praise, or he might've actually blushed.