Chapter 43: Death Knights
Guys, enjoy the weekend bonus chapter.
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As Artel strolled through the dimly lit corridor of the castle, he couldn't help but ponder the encounters he'd had in the dormitory earlier. The expressions on the faces of Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe froze as if they'd been caught off guard, their once animated speech and movements tapering off. It was a far cry from the days when Artel had first arrived at Hogwarts, feeling too intimidated to even speak.
Malfoy, the perennial figure of Slytherin haughtiness, extended an awkward smile in Artel's direction. "You're in the dormitory too," he greeted, trying to mask his surprise.
Artel, who was more often found in the Room of Requirement perfecting his potion-making skills, nodded in acknowledgment. Then, an idea sparked in his mind, and he turned to Malfoy with a curious glint in his eye. "Malfoy, didn't you mention the other day that your family has some business in Liechtenstein?"
Malfoy's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Artel's knowledge of his private conversations. "Yes, that's right," he admitted with a wry smile. "My father has been planning to change our business dealings there. You see, there's a significant problem. A tribe of mountain trolls in the area keeps attacking wizards from time to time, and it's affecting my father's business."
Artel raised an inquisitive eyebrow, prompting Malfoy to ask, "Why the sudden interest in Liechtenstein?"
"My family is planning a Christmas trip to Switzerland, which is quite close to Liechtenstein. I just wanted to know what's happening there," Artel explained.
With a conspiratorial tone, he added, "Well, you needn't worry too much. Trolls, despite their brutish nature, won't attack Muggles without provocation. Still, it's best not to linger there for too long. Those creatures lack intelligence and might pose a danger sooner or later."
Malfoy shrugged, his privileged upbringing making him disinclined to visit a place like Liechtenstein anytime soon. He leaned in closer and shared a tidbit of information with Artel. "According to my father, there are at least hundreds of mountain trolls residing in that area."
"A few hundred?" Artel mused, his thoughts deepening. He chose not to reveal his true intentions and kept his plans close to his chest. Meanwhile, Malfoy, exchanging meaningful looks with Goyle and Crabbe, decided it was an appropriate time to vacate the dormitory.
"Actually, I've just remembered that Pansy has something to discuss with me. I better go," Malfoy announced as he turned and exited the room, his two loyal followers trailing behind.
Artel grinned softly, and as he left the dormitory, he reached for the Ring of power, a potent artifact he had in his possession. He had a plan for the Forbidden Forest, where he intended to gather centaur blood.
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Leaving the Slytherin common room behind, Artel made his way to the Forbidden Forest. As he passed by Hagrid's cozy cottage, he noticed Harry and Ron inside, deep in conversation.
"I have no idea what's going on in the Forbidden Forest, Harry. Dumbledore didn't tell me much, just mentioned a dangerous creature lurking there," Hagrid confessed while taking a hearty gulp of his tea.
Harry and Ron exchanged hushed speculations, their thoughts inevitably drifting back to the mystery of the three-headed dog they'd encountered earlier.
"Since the last incident," Ron mused, his voice laden with uncertainty.
Hagrid attempted to reassure Harry that the current situation had nothing to do with Snape, emphasizing that Dumbledore had entrusted the protection of that mysterious object to the enigmatic professor as well. He urged Harry not to dwell on it, assuring him that it was unrelated to his own quest. But Harry, fueled by his unwavering determination to prove himself, found it difficult to heed Hagrid's advice.
Meanwhile, Artel eavesdropped on their conversation for a while before proceeding toward the entrance of the Forbidden Forest. As he approached, he couldn't help but notice something peculiar. There was a formidable enchantment in place, and Artel, with his keen magical senses, could sense its intricate and immense power. This magical barrier seemed to bear the unmistakable mark of a certain professor, perhaps even Dumbledore himself.
Artel stood in awe of the formidable power radiating from the enchantment that stretched before him. It was as if an impenetrable wall of magic separated him from the one who had cast this barrier. This gap wasn't merely about talent; it was a chasm of mana, like comparing a trickling stream to vast, majestic rivers and lakes.
As he gazed upon the magical barrier, the other first-year wizard's magical abilities seemed insignificant, like tiny drops in the vast ocean of mana. Determined to overcome this obstacle, Artel reached into his system space and retrieved a bottle of light gray potion. Taking a sip, he could taste the faint bitterness tinged with a fishy odor.
In an instant, Artel's transformation began. He morphed into a purebred Doberman pinscher. To those who knew, he was Charlie, the Doberman, a well-known figure in the Shelby family. The animal potion's efficacy was incredible, allowing him to temporarily take on an animal's form, much like the Animagus abilities. This transformation would be his key to bypassing Dumbledore's enchantment, designed to keep wizards out and the Forbidden Forest's giant spiders in check.
Charlie, now Artel, passed through the magical barrier with a grace that caused no disturbance. Following the mental map he had created during his previous encounter with the centaur patrol, he ventured deeper into the forest.
Taking another sip from the potion, he swiftly reverted to his human form. Once human again, he drew his wand and began to trace a complex symbol in the air, channeling his magical energy with purpose.
"From the abyss, where nightmares dwell,
I beckon Death knights, the souls they quell.
Born in darkness, a shroud of dread,
Awaken, my minions, from realms of the dead.
In chilling silence, they arise, concealed,
Their presence, a terror, yet to be revealed.
With hollow eyes, and blades that gleam,
They haunt the living, a ghastly dream.
Bound to me, in the midnight's chill,
Their duty to harvest, a blood-curdling thrill.
In shadows they lurk, in the corners they creep,
This incantation, in horror, secrets it'll keep.
Come forth my Death Knights...." Artel chanted the sacred incantation.
A shroud of black death energy enveloped Artel, and eerie, ghostly whispers echoed within it. From the abyss of darkness emerged two formidable figures, each towering at a height of twenty feet. These were the feared death knights, clad in enchanted black steel armor, their sealed helmets revealing only sinister scarlet eyes. Behind them, two enormous one-handed swords were crossed, radiating an aura of darkness. Their skeletal warhorses, also clad in armor, had flames dancing on their hooves.
These intermediate undead creatures were Artel's hidden trump cards. With his current abilities, he could summon only two of these formidable death knights.
Artel issued a chilling command to his newfound allies, "Go and kill as much as you like, except the old, the weak and the young!" The darkness that surrounded him seemed to intensify, and with a sense of foreboding, Artel's fearsome minions set forth on their gruesome mission.
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