25 Lessons

Artel believed that Sauron's return would overshadow Voldemort's reign of terror and render Harry Potter's role as the savior inconsequential.

Artel grinned, satisfied with the progress he was making. He carefully stowed away a mysterious parchment that seemed to hold the key to Sauron's resurgence. His plan was to discreetly place it within one of the books in the library, all the while indulging in Saruman's experimental notes with relish.

As time drew near, Artel left his bedroom and headed for the auditorium. It was time for his customary afternoon tea, a tradition instilled during his time in the Shelby family.

Unbeknownst to Artel, Gryffindor's history of magic lesson had concluded just as he was enjoying his pudding and tea in the Great Hall.

Hermione entered the Great Hall in a hurry, a bright smile gracing her face upon seeing Artel.

"Artel, you wouldn't believe how dull the history of magic class was today. I think Professor Binns might be casting some sort of hypnotic spell with his monotonous lectures."

Sitting beside Artel, Hermione launched into a vivid description of the ghostly Professor Binns, while Neville nodded in agreement, his face still bearing marks from his textbook.

Harry and Ron, in contrast, seemed in high spirits, possibly because they had managed to catch up on sleep during class.

Artel, feeling quite at ease, tapped the table, ordered another cup of tea, and passed it to Hermione. Then, he turned his attention to Harry and Ron.

"Care for some afternoon tea?"

"That sounds fantastic!" Ron exclaimed.

Following Artel's lead, Ron drummed his fingers on the table and rattled off his order, which included cheesecake, chocolate muffins, pineapple buns, fruit puffs, and two cups of tea.

Hermione couldn't help but look at Ron with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. She set her teacup down on the table and turned to Artel.

"Care to join me for a brief stroll? I could use some fresh air and a bit of energy."

"Of course," Artel replied, rising from his seat and accompanying Hermione out of the Great Hall.

Observing the two depart, Ron took a bite of his pineapple bun and mumbled with an air of certainty, "I bet, Harry, those two are more than just friends."

Harry, however, simply shook his head and reassured Ron, "They're just friends, Ron."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at the mention of love among their group of first-year wizards.

"Maybe it's because they both come from Muggle families," Harry mused, his lips pursed in thought. Despite his parents being wizards, he had grown up in a Muggle household. Strangely, he felt that Artel always held a certain level of detachment from him.

....

As Artel and Hermione left the castle, they stepped out of the gate onto a flat grassy area. A few hundred meters away stood Hagrid's hut, serving as a barrier to the Forbidden Forest. Looking out from the grass, they could see the Quidditch pitch and a corner of the Black Lake in the distance. There were students in Hufflepuff uniforms practicing on the pitch.

As Artel and Hermione strolled on the grass, the warm breeze rustled their hair, and the fresh scent of grass filled the air. Hermione appeared to be in better spirits. They eventually found a clean patch of lawn and settled down.

"I don't think there's anything particularly remarkable about young wizards who grew up in wizarding families. To be honest, I was quite intimidated at first," Hermione confessed, a hint of embarrassment in her smile.

"I know your talent surpasses mine by miles. You've probably mastered some intermediate-level spells, right? Well, even though I dislike the History of Magic course, Professor Binns still awarded me five points today."

Hermione proudly lifted her head and declared, "That's because I'm the only one who knows about Gaspard, the inventor of the self-stirring cauldron."

"Another five points?" Artel chuckled. It seemed Hermione was on a quest to accumulate points. Harry and Ron were in for some tough situations soon.

"You don't know Gaspard, do you?" Hermione asked studying Artel's reaction.

Artel shook his head and grinned.

"Nope, I've never heard of this person. You see, I'm not much of a bookworm... But as a token of my appreciation for introducing me to this name, how about I teach you a magic trick?"

"Really? Is it an intermediate-level spell?" Hermione's excitement for all things magical resurfaced. She looked at Artel with eager eyes.

Artel shrugged and replied, "Not quite. This spell isn't in your regular textbooks. I found it in an ancient notebook. It was created by a great wizard named Saruman."

With a flourish, Artel produced his wand and tapped it on the lawn.

"Thornicus!"

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