As Artemis expected, Mr. and Mrs. Fowl reacted to the news of his supposed acceptance with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Butler was just concerned that a possibly threatening outsider was not only aware of his principle's magic powers but also knew where Artemis slept.

Three forty-five found the four of them in the drawing room watching four o'clock tick closer on the impressive old grandfather clock. Angeline was sitting on the sofa, studiously picking at a loose thread at the hem of her rapidly fraying cotton sundress. Butler paced in front of the doorway silent as a jungle cat, stopping every so often to glance out the window as if to catch the visitor sneaking around the side of the house instead of coming up the main drive. No one spoke.

No sooner had the clock finished chiming the hour than the ancient doorbell sounded through the manor, seemingly magnified by its occupants' silence. Butler slipped out and padded down the corridor to the main hall.

He reached the main entrance and peered through the blinds. There was a tall, regal-looking woman standing at the door in what looked like a long black dress. Perched on top of her head was a pointed black witch's hat, angled to keep the late afternoon sun out of her sharp eyes. It didn't look as though she was carrying a weapon, but this didn't necessarily mean there wasn't one, so Butler opened the door cautiously nonetheless. "Good afternoon," he said.

"To you as well," she said, nodding to him briskly. Butler had long come to expect strangers gawking at him, but if this woman was taken aback by the sheer size of him, she didn't let it show. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, of Hogwarts School. I am here to see Master Artemis Fowl, Junior. We have a four o'clock appointment." Her voice was every bit as crisp as her manner.

Butler eyed her suspiciously for a moment before letting her inside. Professor McGonagall stared right back, exuding calm and authority. She followed the bodyguard into the grand foyer, politely refused the proffered armchair, and stood waiting as he went to fetch Master Artemis.

Butler reappeared in the drawing room looking quizzical. To Artemis, he said, "A Professor McGonagall here to see you, sir."

"It is Professor McGonagall herself, then? Interesting," Artemis mused, standing up. "She wants me alone?"

"She didn't specify, but she only asked for you."

"I see." He turned to his parents. "I shall talk to her alone first, if you don't mind," he said.

Artemis Sr. frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Quite, Father."

His mother made a worried "hmm" noise, as if she were going to protest.

"It will be fine, Mother. I will fill you in when I return." Artemis turned to follow Butler out the door. "What is your impression of her?" he asked as they proceeded down the corridor.

Butler thought a moment before responding. "Well, if this is a ruse, it's a pretty elaborate one. She's dressed rather eccentrically. Doesn't appear to be armed, though I couldn't be certain. Honestly, she reminds me of a strict Catholic schoolteacher, aside from the whole witch getup."

"Interesting," Artemis said again. They rounded the corner into the foyer to find Professor McGonagall admiring an aged tapestry. It depicted two dragons engaged in battle, one black and one white, as a maiden in a faded golden dress crouched on the ground between them.

As Butler had said, she was indeed dressed strangely, in something like a very high-quality Halloween costume, pointed hat and all. Her dark hair, heavily streaked with gray, was pulled into a bun as severe as her hawk-like expression.

Professor McGonagall turned from the wall and smiled a thin smile when she saw Butler had returned, but the smile turned to confusion when her gaze landed on Artemis. "You are Artemis Fowl Junior?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Artemis noted that her accent sounded English.

"I am." Artemis raised an eyebrow back at her.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen..."

"Fourteen," she repeated, glaring at him as though expecting to catch him in some kind of lie. Artemis nodded, wondering why his age was such an issue. The silence stretched on as he waited for her to explain the problem, and when she didn't, he decided to speak up himself.

"So," he prodded. "I was under the impression you were here to inform me about my acceptance to your school."

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall tersely. She turned to where Butler was standing by the door, discreet yet watchful. "I wonder if we may we speak privately?"

"Butler is aware of the nature of your community, as are my parents. They are the only ones who've been informed. I trust this hasn't violated your terms of secrecy?"

Artemis' number one rule: do not attempt to double cross an unknown enemy.

Professor McGonagall frowned, considering him. "No," she said slowly, looking from Butler to Artemis and back again. "So long as the information remains between the four of you; it is always preferable that facts of such a sensitive nature be kept within the immediate family. You should tell others about your wizardry solely on a need-to-know basis. You would do well to pass this warning along to your parents. The Ministry of Magic does not tolerate wizards who flaunt their magic to Muggles; there are severe consequences for those who do." She paused to allow the message to sink in.

"I'm sorry, did you say 'Muggles'?" Artemis inquired.

"Yes, Muggles. 'Muggle' is a term for an individual who does not possess any magic." Professor McGonagall took a seat on the small couch and gestured to the chair beside it. "Please take a seat. It seems we have more to discuss than I thought," she said. Artemis obeyed, ignoring the fact that he had been offered a seat in his own house by a complete stranger. "Now, at what point did you first begin displaying signs of magical talent?"

"Approximately four months ago," he replied, neglecting to mention the fact that this dubious magical talent had conveniently manifested after a trip to another dimension with two demon warlocks and an elf. Nothing the woman had said indicated that her race of wizards was at all related to that of the fairies, and if they were as ignorant about the People's existence as other humans, Artemis wasn't going to be the one to blow their secret. The professor didn't seem to think there was anything strange about a child randomly performing acts of magic. The only thing that was strange, Artemis gathered from her perplexed expression, was that it hadn't happened at the right time. He wondered if he was too old or too young to become a wizard.

Professor McGonagall asked several more questions: what sort of magic had he performed? How frequently did it happen? At the time, had he been able to control what was happening? Artemis answered them all as best he could, strategically leaving out any fairy-related bits, making it sound like he had awoken one day and, to his surprise, could perform magic. Professor McGonagall listened to him raptly, nodding at his answers. If she found anything about his story unlikely, she didn't show it. When she had finished interrogating him, she leaned back in her seat and sighed, fixing Artemis with an expression the boy couldn't quite read.

"Well, Master Fowl, despite your delayed magical development, I have little doubt that you indeed belong at Hogwarts."

"Oh? Why wouldn't I?"

The Professor fixed him with intense scrutiny. "You should know that most wizard children begin displaying their powers between the ages of four and seven, some late bloomers at perhaps nine or ten. They begin with uncontrolled explosions and the like, accidents brought on by moments of high emotion, such as anger or fear. Young witches and wizards generally begin attending Hogwarts at the age of eleven or twelve. Frankly, I have never heard of a situation such as yours. Had your magic shown itself earlier, you would likely be in your fourth year of training. Regardless, the magic you have displayed since then seems appropriately developed compared to other wizards in your age group, and your ability to exert some control over it on your own suggests that, with a great deal of practice, you could catch up with them, possibly before the start of term."

Professor McGonagall rose and began pacing. "I shall need to speak with the headmaster, of course, and some of the other teachers, but I would like you to begin your magical studies immediately, and perhaps arrange for someone to stop by regularly to help you along and monitor your progress. I will need to speak to your parents about this as well."

Artemis nodded, but something was bothering him. "The way you've described it, I get the impression that Hogwarts is a boarding school? Suppose I should choose not to attend. It's quite a lot to think about, you understand. How frequently would I be able to come home?"

The thought of leaving home for months on end, so soon after he'd disappeared for nearly three years, depressed Artemis. His parents had been so overjoyed at his return they'd insisted that he enroll in a local high school instead of taking another year at St. Bartleby's. Did he really want to go off to another boarding school now, when he finally had the chance to spend time with the family he'd barely begun to get reacquainted with? Did he even have a choice?

Artemis noticed Professor McGonagall was looking at him closely. When she spoke, her words were less clipped than usual and. "Hogwarts is indeed a boarding school. You would be sleeping in a dormitory with your peers, and you would come home for two and a half months for summer break, and for two weeks over Christmas." She paused and tapped a foot while she thought of how to put her next words. "It is not unheard of," she began. "Uncommon, but not unheard of, for some wizarding children not to experience formal schooling. Sometimes their families will homeschool them, or hire a private tutor. However, this normally occurs in old wizarding families where the parents can prepare their children for life in wizarding society. We strongly recommend that Muggle-born children go to Hogwarts so they will have adult wizards to answer any questions about their studies and about magic in general. Very, very few do not. Without proper training, a young witch or wizard might find that his or her powers have exceeded the limits of their control. Naturally, the sort of mayhem this causes often results in their accidentally revealing their abilities to Muggles, in which case the Ministry of Magic must become involved. Besides," she continued. "In our centuries of secrecy, wizards have formed a fairly large international community. We believe that young sorcerers should be made fully aware of all their options before they choose to ignore such a large, ingrained part of themselves." She didn't quite smile, but her expression seemed sympathetic. "Magic is a natural part of you," she assured him, a direct blow to Artemis' guilty conscience. "You really should take the chance to turn it into something useful."

Then Professor McGonagall turned to Butler, purely professional once more. "I will need to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Fowl, preferably both." Butler looked to Artemis, who nodded, and slipped out of the room. Artemis took a deep breath and slouched in his chair, feeling conflicted. One spontaneous decision to embrace the fairy magic, and once again, the world as he knew it had been spun on its axis.

What in the world have I gotten myself into?