Chapter 72: Saruman's Friendly Visit
After the quill pen etched the final word, it gracefully descended onto the nearby table. The ink on the parchment began to dry up, ultimately transforming into an ancient, weathered appearance.
Artel picked up the parchment, scrutinized it, ensured nothing was amiss, and stowed it away in the system space.
Though the parchment didn't introduce any extraordinary creatures or magic, it meticulously chronicled the composition and purpose of the Fellowship of the Ring expedition, serving as a comprehensive outline
The following night, Harry Potter, in his quest for Nicole May's deeds in the forbidden area, would accidentally stumble upon this parchment. After fleeing the library, he'd be caught by Professor Snape, and the parchment would be confiscated.
"The script is written, just waiting for the actors to take their places."
Artel snapped his fingers, summoning Sophia from outside the door.
"Master Artel? Your orders?"
"It's nothing. Fetch me another glass of hot milk; I need some rest. Don't disturb me afterward. If you feel like going for a walk, feel free."
Artel was planning a visit to the Ministry of Magic in London soon. The character design for Saruman still needed refinement, and on this Christmas Eve, the giant Ent had to be set free for a bit of joy.
"Okay! Thank you, Master."
Sophia happily complied. It was her first time abroad, and with Michael and Jimmy attending midnight mass and the other servants off enjoying themselves, she was the only one left at the residence.
Now that she had the chance to venture out on her own, Sophia was overjoyed.
Five minutes later, she returned with a glass of hot milk for Artel. After watching him drink it, she changed his pajamas, turned off the lights, and left.
Five minutes after Sophia's departure, Artel opened his eyes.
Donning a set of wizard robes, he left a touch of magic in the house. Then, adorning the air ring, he underwent polymorphism. Saruman, with long gray hair and a scepter, reappeared in the world.
The scepter in Artel's hand came to a brief pause before he utilized Apparition. In the next second, Artel materialized outside the Ministry of Magic in London.
The decision to avoid the Swiss Ministry of Magic stemmed from the fact that he was ostensibly traveling in Switzerland. Despite the slim chance of others connecting Saruman to himself, Artel chose to expend more mana to teleport directly to London to prevent any potential overlap in appearances.
The British Ministry of Magic's headquarters nestled in the basement of Whitehall in central London. While Artel had heard of it, he had never set foot inside. There were two known ways to enter the Ministry of Magic – normal staff used the Floo network through fireplaces, while visitors accessed it through a red, dilapidated phone booth.
Following Voldemort's takeover, the Floo network had been discontinued, and employees had to flush themselves into the Ministry of Magic using toilets. However, Artel, now capable of Apparating, found such methods needlessly cumbersome. Glancing at the vibrant city center, he teleported to the hall of the Ministry of Magic beneath Whitehall in the next instant.
Given that it was Christmas Eve, the Ministry of Magic was nearly deserted, with the reception area standing empty.
Although the hall emanated warmth, with fires ablaze in the rows of fireplaces on either side, a golden fountain gushing from the statue of the Magic Brothers in the center, and Christmas decorations adorning the surroundings.
Artel surveyed the scene and spotted, on the left side of the main hall, an unshaven guard stationed at the security checkpoint, attired in a peacock blue robe.
The security checkpoints at the Ministry of Magic wielded magical powers to conduct security checks on visiting visitors, and guards registered the wands of those who entered.
Eric Munch, on night shift duty, seemingly did not anticipate anyone visiting the Ministry of Magic on Christmas Eve night. Nevertheless, he straightened up and gestured for Artel to approach for security checks.
Artel walked over calmly and halted in front of the security checkpoint.
"Hello."
The steady, aged voice abruptly woke Munch from his drowsiness. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he eyed the unfamiliar elderly wizard before him. This face wasn't one he'd encountered, certainly not the head honcho of the Ministry of Magic. With a touch of impatience, Munch retorted:
"It's off-duty hours now. If there's paperwork, come back on a working day, and someone will assist you."
"No need to bother. I'm just here to collect a friend," Artel cut in, scanning the Ministry of Magic and noting the absence of patrolling officials. Did the Ministry really believe that a single guard could safeguard the entire place? Or were there unseen protectors on other floors?
Recalling the chaos in the Order of the Phoenix, where Harry infiltrated the Ministry of Magic and clashed with Death Eaters, Artel doubted the efficacy of additional guards, if any.
"Collecting friends? At this hour, everyone else has left, except for the duty guards..." Munch trailed off, momentarily puzzled. He probed further, "Which department is your friend from?"
"He's not a Ministry clerk. Just a poor hobbit mistakenly thrown into Azkaban and subsequently transported here," Artel explained slowly, watching as comprehension dawned on Munch's face, changing it in gradual realization.
.....
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