Real Duel

Artel cast a fleeting glance at the men milling about, their attire tattered and disheveled, resembling mice scuttling through sewers.

"It seems the life of dark wizards isn't all that glamorous," he mused, paying them little heed as he focused on a concealed alleyway.

Within, Quirrell and Lucius engaged in conversation. After a brief interval, Lucius hastened out, catching Artel's eye as he approached.

Recognizing him from their encounter in Liechtenstein, Lucius couldn't contain his excitement. "You... are you Saruman?" he exclaimed, his eyes alight with fascination for Saruman's power and the enigmatic White Council.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm familiar with you," Artel acknowledged, flashing a polite smile. "But now isn't the time for conversation. I have matters to attend to. If you don't mind, wait for me here for two minutes. Just two."

With that, Artel disappeared into the alley, leaving Lucius puzzled.

Two minutes? What could one possibly accomplish in such a short time?

Perplexed, Lucius scanned his surroundings, while the other dark wizards, equally intrigued, exchanged curious glances, their attention drawn to the alleyway's entrance.

After some contemplation, Lucius resolved to trail after Artel, casting a warning glance at the other dark wizards who were preparing to follow suit. With an arrogant snort, Lucius strode into the alley.

Merely a couple of steps in, Lucius abruptly halted as he noticed Artel intercepting Quirrell, who was on the verge of departure.

"Oh, fuck," Lucius muttered under his breath, his expression shifting suddenly.

"Quirinus Quirrell," Artel addressed the figure cloaked in black, with only his eyes visible.

"Sir, I believe you've mistaken me for someone else," came a hoarse voice from within the black robes, tinged with a hint of panic that Artel couldn't miss.

Quirrell was clearly rattled. He couldn't fathom why the infamous Saruman would recognize him. He had taken great pains to conceal his identity, anonymously arranging the acquisition of dragon eggs for Voldemort's grand scheme. Being caught now would jeopardize everything, not just his allegiance to Voldemort, but also the legal ramifications of smuggling dragon eggs.

"No, the scent of garlic gives you away, Quirinus Quirrell," Artel remarked, casting a knowing glance at Lucius, who stood awkwardly nearby. With a subtle stroke of his scepter, Artel continued, recounting Quirrell's illustrious past.

"Quirinus Quirrell, a brilliant wizard lauded by his teachers for his exceptional performance at Hogwarts Ravenclaw. During his tenure as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he garnered renown in the British wizarding community for his profound theoretical knowledge and exceptional talents..."

Artel's tone shifted, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

"Regrettably, following his return from a journey last year, he underwent a drastic change in temperament—becoming timid, cowardly, and plagued by speech impediments. Allegedly due to encounters with vampires and witches... However," Artel paused, flashing a half-smile at Quirrell, who visibly paled with apprehension, "the truth is quite different. In Albania, you crossed paths with Voldemort. A remarkable turn of events unfolded. The esteemed Professor Quirrell, once renowned, now subsists as Voldemort's subservient, sustained solely by vermin, his fate sealed by the Dark Lord's dominion."

"Silence!" Quirrell's roar echoed from beneath his black robe as he swiftly drew his wand, pointing it at Artel with a fierce inquiry, "Who are you?"

Horror was evident on Quirrell's face; this information was known to no one but himself and Voldemort. Who could this Saruman be, a deity?

Artel smiled in silence, straightening his aged frame. His eyes sharpened as he gazed down at Quirrell with dignified contempt. "I am Saruman. You may refer to me as a wise man or a wizard in white. Relax, boy, I have no interest in you or that little entity behind your head. I need that." Artel's 4.1 scepter pointed towards a chest in Quirrell's grasp. "I want that dragon egg."

Quirrell's face contorted beneath his black robe. Without the dragon egg, handling Hagrid was impossible, obtaining the Philosopher's Stone seemed unattainable, and without the Stone, the Forbidden Forest became the only desperate option, tantamount to courting death.

"Lucius! You betrayed the master!" Quirrell accused, immediately suspecting Lucius, the only one privy to their dragon egg trade.

Lucius rolled his eyes, assuming Saruman was a pawn in Quirrell's machinations, perhaps a ruse to swindle him for the dragon egg. "What's it got to do with me?"

"The master won't spare you!" Quirrell threatened fiercely, raising his wand and pointing it at Artel. "Regardless of your intentions, the dragon egg won't be handed to you! Now, let me go!"

Handing over the dragon egg equated to his demise, and Quirrell would not agree to it. "Though regrettable, you've made the wrong choice," Artel sighed, expressing disappointment. Transforming into Saruman, his first real duel was against Quirrell.

.....

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