The following day, a tranquil Sunday unfolded at Hogwarts, with third-grade and above wizards enjoying their time in Hogsmeade. The school echoed with a rare sense of calm.
After a satisfying breakfast, Artel wandered away from the castle, strolling along the picturesque Black Lake. Nearby, senior wizard couples engaged in affectionate displays, holding hands and sharing intimate moments. However, Artel, focused on his own agenda, paid little attention to their romantic pursuits.
Heading back toward the castle, Artel crossed paths with Professor McGonagall.
"Professor McGonagall, good morning!"
"Ah, good morning, Artel. Just returned from outside?" McGonagall inquired.
"Yes, Professor. Are you heading out?"
"Well, I'm off to visit a friend in Hogsmeade. Enjoy your weekend," she replied with a smile before continuing on her way.
Observing McGonagall's departure, Artel wondered about her friend. Could it be someone associated with the Order of the Phoenix? Brushing off the speculation, Artel recognized that, at this point, the Order's actions held little sway over him.
With ample time before lunch, Artel planned to retreat to his bedroom. As he descended to the basement, he noticed Pansy waiting at the stairwell entrance.
Pansy's expression shifted upon seeing Artel, and she nonchalantly remarked, "Hey, the Slytherin genius. What happened your little girlfriend."
Ignoring her Artel continued walking without missing a beat.
"Hey!" Pansy called out, but Artel pressed on, his focus unwavering.
Pansy's frustration boiled over as she stomped after him, determined to confront Artel.
"Hey, aren't you going to show some manners? I'm talking to you!" she called out, her voice tinged with irritation.
Artel halted in his tracks, fixing Pansy with a piercing gaze that seemed to cut through her facade.
Caught off guard by his intensity, Pansy squirmed uncomfortably, her fear bubbling to the surface. She bit her lip before speaking, her tone softer now.
"What's gotten into you? Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.
"Cut the double talk, Pansy. I won't tolerate your pure-blood superiority nonsense. Consider this a warning. Don't provoke me again," Artel admonished sternly, his words carrying a weight that left Pansy feeling small.
Pansy's eyes welled up with tears at his rebuke, feeling unjustly accused. Still, she mustered the courage to explain herself.
"I didn't mean it like that... I know I messed up before, and I apologized. I thought maybe we could bury the hatchet, I even got you a Christmas present," she confessed, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
Artel remained unmoved, his expression unyielding as he reached into his wizard's robe, retrieving a bag of gold Galleons from his system space. It appeared to contain around two hundred coins, roughly the equivalent of Pansy's gift.
He tossed the bag to Pansy with a firm toss, his tone unwavering.
"Miss Parkinson, in the future, think twice before acting on your own impulses. Your actions have consequences, especially when they involve others. As far as I'm concerned, we're not exactly pals. If you want to change that, start by dropping the superiority act," he advised coldly.
Pansy said nothing, clutching the bag tightly as her knuckles turned white, her pride wounded but her resolve unbroken.
"Got it," she murmured, her tone subdued.
Artel could feel Pansy's eyes boring into his back as he made his way out of the basement. Her words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't afford to let them distract him. There were more pressing matters at hand.
His pace quickened as he ascended the stairs, eager to put some distance between himself and the confrontation. The other students in the basement glanced at Pansy with confusion, unsure of what had just transpired. But Artel knew better than to linger.
"Wait! You'll see! I'm better than that mudblood... I'm so much better than that Muggle-born!"
Pansy's voice followed him, growing fainter with each step. Artel had never been one to care about blood purity, but he knew it was a sore spot for many in Slytherin. Pansy was a product of her upbringing, and that was something he couldn't change.
As he entered the Slytherin common room, Artel let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It seemed Pansy hadn't followed him after all. He exchanged nods with some of the older students before making his way back to his dormitory.
Inside, Goyle was indulging in a feast of desserts, oblivious to the tension outside. Malfoy and Crabbe, on the other hand, were at a loss for what to do. Artel sighed. This was going to be a long year.
.....
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