Mimblewimble

Artel left the dormitory and saw a girl of his age in the Slytherin common room.

With tan hair and a hint of arrogance, she appeared decent, but her eyes carried a somewhat unsettling demeanor.

Artel recognized this girl as Pansy Parkinson, who had been rumored to have had a fling with Draco for a while but ultimately couldn't marry him. She was a staunch supporter of Draco.

Pansy was waiting for Malfoy, and upon hearing someone descend the stairs, she looked up with anticipation. However, when she saw Artel, her expression turned disdainful.

"Although the prefects say that Slytherin welcomes not just pure-blood wizards, many still believe that some people don't belong here."

"You're absolutely right. I share that sentiment, especially about those who think they're superior, bitch."

Artel replied, avoiding eye contact, and then left the lounge.

Pansy's face flushed, and she was momentarily at a loss for words.

Throughout her childhood, she had been exposed to derogatory terms for Muggle-borns. She had never heard the word "Bitch" before, but without Artel explaining it, she instinctively grasped its meaning and derogatory nature.

"I won't let you get away with this!"

Pansy had held back for a while, but she couldn't contain her frustration any longer and yelled.

By this time, Artel had left the basement and arrived in the Great Hall to prepare breakfast. He sat down at the Slytherin table, where some older Slytherins greeted him with polite smiles. However, most people simply gave him cold looks.

Other first-year Slytherin students glanced at him but didn't approach. After all, everyone was still getting acquainted.

Artel, having grown up in Shelby Manor, was accustomed to having few friends and didn't mind the lack of attention.

"Breakfast!"

Artel called out to his plate, and a variety of breakfast dishes materialized before him. He chose a slice of toast, a boiled potato, a glass of hot milk, and two fried eggs.

"It's quite convenient here."

Artel sipped his milk and sighed appreciatively. The house-elves were skilled in the kitchen, and the breakfast options suited his taste.

Even a simple boiled potato had a distinct flavor that Artel enjoyed.

While Artel was having his breakfast, Hermione entered the Great Hall. The Gryffindor students greeted her warmly, and several first-year wizards waved for her to join them for breakfast. However, Hermione noticed Artel sitting alone.

She paused for a moment, then offered an apologetic smile to the other young wizards, and sat down beside Artel.

"Breakfast!"

Hermione tapped the table, and her breakfast appeared before her.

"It seems like you're not exactly where you're supposed to be," she remarked, looking at Artel.

Artel turned to look at Hermione, and the little girl appeared to be in high spirits. Her excitement and nervousness were evident.

"I like this place," Hermione stated stubbornly as she picked up a piece of toast and quietly nibbled on it.

Since Hermione was willing to join him, Artel saw no reason to refuse her company. He have a lot of plans for this intelligent witch. He will slowly turn her into the most notorious dark witch in history, his loyal subordinate.

However, before he could finish his dreaming, Pansy, seated diagonally across from them, decided to chime in with her characteristic snark.

"Humph! You can like it all you want, but this is Slytherin's territory! What's a Gryffindor doing here? You clearly have no understanding of politeness. It's no surprise you hang out with that Muggle-born..."

Pansy's words were abruptly cut off as Artel raised his hand and pointed his wand in her direction.

"Mimblewimble!"

A flash of light materialized, and Pansy's expression swiftly shifted from consternation to panic. Her tongue adhered to the roof of her mouth, rendering her unable to utter a word, no matter how hard she tried.

The young wizards and witches around them erupted in a chorus of fearful gasps and jumps.

With a visibly vexed expression, Gemma, one of the older students, hastened over.

"This is... a bit excessive," Gemma muttered as she attempted to counteract the spell with her wand. Unfortunately, her efforts proved fruitless.

"This is a curse? How could you, a first-year wizard,..." Gemma marveled, her surprise palpable. She hadn't expected a first-year student to cast a spell that she couldn't undo, which left her feeling somewhat embarrassed as a prefect.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the professors, with Dumbledore, Snape, and Professor McGonagall making their way over.

Snape, wearing a perplexed expression, glanced at Pansy, who was still under the effects of the curse, before tapping his wand and restoring her tongue.

"Ah!! You filthy..."

Pansy exclaimed, but Snape swiftly reprimanded her.

"Silence, Miss Pansy Parkinson! I will not tolerate that word in my presence. Any further use of it will result in severe consequences!"

Snape's stern gaze made Pansy recoil, and she wisely chose to remain silent.

Snape then turned his attention to Artel and inquired, "Where did you learn this curse?"

The Tongue-Tying Curse was a spell Artel had learned during his time at school, and it had not been passed down through any formal teachings.

"I conducted my own research," Artel replied truthfully. He only possessed knowledge of Snape's spells, and he knew that mere spells wouldn't suffice to cast curses. Nevertheless, Artel, with his innate talent and the influence of Sauron, excelled at dark magic and malevolent spells, making his abilities truly remarkable.

In this world, Artel was second to none, and no one dared to challenge his prowess.

Thus, with minimal effort, he had effortlessly recalled the entire spell and executed it successfully, making it seem as easy as breathing. While others had to reach for a glass of water, Artel could cast healing spells with a mere thought.

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