Sauron was a Dark Lord ten thousand times more terrifying than Voldemort. He was already immortal, lurking in hiding for thousands of years, waiting for his return.
And Altair would build his legend for him.
Trolls, Uruk-hai, Balrogs, Nazgûl...
In short, by the time Sauron was finally summoned by his hand, the wizarding world would realize that Voldemort was nothing more than a minor figure, and Harry Potter was no savior.
And at that moment, Altair would step forward.
"Then I'll have fame, power, and strength all at once. My path of supremacy will be completed perfectly."
Altair smiled, carefully put away the ancient and mysterious parchment, and planned to slip it into some suitable book in the library when the right chance came. After that, he settled down and continued reading Saruman's experimental notes with great interest.
When the time was about right, Altair left the dormitory and headed for the Great Hall.
He was going for afternoon tea, a habit he had picked up over the years in the Shelby family.
...
By the time Altair was eating pudding and drinking black tea in the Great Hall, Gryffindor's afternoon History of Magic class had ended.
Hermione came hurrying into the hall. The moment she spotted Altair, a smile appeared on her face.
"Good heavens, Altair, I absolutely do not think you'd like History of Magic. I'm convinced Professor Binns was practically chanting some kind of sleeping spell. I had to force myself not to fall asleep."
Hermione sat down beside him and began telling him all about Professor Binns, the ghostly teacher.
Neville, sitting nearby, nodded in complete agreement. There were even marks from his textbook printed across his face.
Harry and Ron, however, looked quite energetic. They had probably gotten enough sleep during class.
Altair tapped the table and requested another cup of Darjeeling tea, then handed it to Hermione before looking at Harry and the others.
"Would you like some afternoon tea too?"
"Brilliant idea!"
Ron copied Altair and slapped the table, then announced, "I need cheesecake, chocolate muffins, pineapple buns, fruit cream puffs, and two cups of Earl Grey!"
Hermione looked at him speechlessly, set her teacup down on the table, then turned to Altair and said, "Come outside with me for a walk. I need to wake myself up."
"All right."
Altair nodded, rose to his feet, and left with Hermione.
Watching the two of them go, Ron took a bite of his pineapple bun and mumbled through the mouthful, "I'd bet money on it, Harry. Those two are definitely dating."
"They're just friends, Ron."
Harry rolled his eyes. They were only eleven-year-old first-years. What dating?
Still, even he thought Hermione and Altair were a little too close. After all, one was in Gryffindor and the other was in Slytherin, and after what had happened that morning, quite a few older Gryffindors no longer had a very good impression of Hermione.
"Maybe it's because they both come from Muggle families."
Harry pressed his lips together. His parents had been wizards, but he himself had grown up in a Muggle household too. Yet for some reason, he always felt that Altair kept a certain distance from him.
...
Altair and Hermione left the castle.
Outside the main doors stretched a wide, flat lawn. Several hundred yards ahead stood Hagrid's hut, blocking the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.
From the grass, looking out into the distance, they could see part of the Quidditch pitch and a corner of the Black Lake. There were people training on the Quidditch field, and judging by their uniforms, they were from Hufflepuff.
Altair and Hermione walked across the lawn for a while, letting the warm breeze blow over them and breathing in the fresh, unmistakable scent of grass. Hermione already looked much more awake.
The two of them found a clean patch of lawn and sat down.
"I really don't think those young witches and wizards who grew up in wizarding families are anything special. Honestly, I was pretty nervous before."
Hermione gave a slightly embarrassed smile, but her eyes shone with fierce confidence and pride as she spoke.
" Hermione, you're the best."
Altair laughed and ruffled her hair.
To be fair, Hermione really did have astonishingly thick hair. Enough to make countless thinning-haired girls die of envy.
"The way you say that makes you sound like my father."
Hermione shot Altair a look, though she still seemed rather pleased.
"I know your talent is much better than mine. You've probably already mastered some intermediate spells, haven't you? Hmph. But knowing spells alone isn't enough. Even though I didn't like History of Magic, Professor Binns still gave me five points today."
Lifting her chin proudly, Hermione declared, "Because I was the only one who knew Gaspard Shingleton, the inventor of the Self-Stirring Cauldron."
"Another five points?"
The corner of Altair's mouth curved upward.
Go on then. Keep adding them.
In a few more days, Harry and Ron would start throwing themselves into trouble anyway.
"You didn't know who Gaspard Shingleton was, did you?"
Hermione looked at Altair with a smug little expression.
Altair shook his head with a smile.
"I really didn't know who he was, since I don't enjoy reading... but to thank you for telling me his name, how about I teach you a spell?"
"Really? An intermediate spell?"
The moment magic was mentioned, Hermione's studious side emerged again. Her eyes lit up as she stared at Altair, excitement written all over her face.
"More or less. But it isn't in any ordinary book. I found it in an ancient notebook. It was created by a great wizard named Saruman."
Altair drew his wand and lightly tapped the grass.
"Entangling Thorns!"