Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you fellows manage to recognize as the creations of Mr. Eoin Colfer or Ms. Joanne Kathleen Rowling, or of some other recognized author which I am pretty sure there aren't; Really, I promise I don't. So let's get on with the story.
Chapter 2
Eight Plus One Tasks To Do
The boy with an intellect that would shame the likes of monstrous-mind Albert Einstein himself, awoke earlier than his peers did (as usual of course), which they did at around 0700 and he at around 0530. And then did whatever everyone does after just waking up.
If it is not unmistakable that the boy I am talking about is none other than Artemis Fowl the Second, I am afraid I cannot help you there. For I am here. And let's continue anyway.
The reason Artemis managed to wake up antecedent and anterior to his fellow compeers lay in the fact that he had effectively practiced a technique to raise his level of Adreno Cortic Trophic Hormone which as is its working acted on the Adrenal gland and caused increase in the secretion of epinephrine and norepinephrine (sympathetic discharge) which reinforces the alertness necessary for effective action causing awakening.
As usual, he roamed the school corridors again, but this time he went to a particular place; the Room of Requirement. It amazed him that such a thing could possibly exist. No magic he had managed to learn until now spoke of creating any such object or place that could offer all magic known. Surely, the Room must have had been created by some highly gifted wizard, if not exceptionally. So he decided that he'd demand from the Room itself of its creator.
When trying to enter the room, the thing that he thought of was that he required a room where all answers to his questions would be answered. And so he got such a room.
Manifestly, Artemis the genius had a Disillusionment Charm upon himself; he was ingenious enough to know that it was a futile task to risk getting caught early in the morning; even in the noon, afternoon, evening or night for that matter; not that it required any ingenuity on his part anyway.
The room was a brilliant shade of sapphire-blue and ruby-red mixed in a manner that would dazzle even clever professional psychologists who are considerably used to such tricks of the mind – but not much effect on Artemis Fowl; he knew what he had asked for and that for the kind of room he required, it would look like some godly abode. There was in the virtual centre of the room a small pulpit of dull white in the dark-blue surface, which, Artemis believed, was the place where he was supposed to stand and ask his question(s).
He of course asked the one question that was recently haunting him – who was the wizard powerful enough to make a place that would recreate virtually any magic known to wizardkind?
An infinitely euphonious voice resonated from what seemed like nowhere and everywhere – for that one moment, even the near-atheist but actually agnostic Artemis Fowl the Second believed that he'd heard the Almighty's own voice – a voice that edified without explanation; just the tone made you understand everything.
The voice said, "My creator is none but the infamous Herpo the Foul – the first known wizard to have created a Basilisk and a very well known Parselmouth."
If anyone else had said the same to him, he'd have cut off them at 'the first known' itself with an 'I know'; for he knew of the greatness of the dark wizard Herpo. He was, though a dark wizard, a powerful one at that. For this very particular reason, he revered Lord Voldemort – the man who sought to conquer death but failed for his own reasons against a boy who barely knew anything about magic – that is, relative to the mighty wizard.
But this voice demanded attention from every cell in his body – and hehimself couldn't bring it up to say that the name was enough.
But Herpo the Foul? That powerful? Powerful, yes – but this was no ordinary power that the best wizards of their time possessed, rather a power that the best wizards of all time possessed. Hmm… there was another topic to be investigated.
Now he asked another question of which he was nearly certain of the answer but still found it imperative to confirm the answer – he asked if it was indeed Lucius Malfoy who had killed the Yaxleys.
Now I'm not sure if all of you would be surprised – but at least I hope some of you will be; how did little Ah-temis come to know that it was the wand-broken new-one taken (wand destroyed, if you wanna be precise) Lucius Malfoy who killed the Yaxleys? After all, he hadn't even known him.
The Fowl boy bought the Daily Prophet during his summertime and read it thoroughly for any clues on anything interesting happening in his special world. Amazingly, he'd seen the perfect match of Lucius in an article in the Prophet saying how he regretted over being Voldemort's servant and that he'd dearly not wanted to; and that the Dark Lord had forced him to work under his command. At once, Artemis knew.
The man's eyes betrayed him; he wasn't sure how many wizards had stuff in their brain enough to spot that; Malfoy was lying. So the 'Dark Lord' had not forced him to work; he worked of his free will under Voldemort's command. And telling this at this present situation could mean only one thing – he was acting under hiscommand now. And that concluded into the obvious – the Dark Lord wasn't no more. He had somehow survived the battle in Hogwarts.
But our li'l Arty knew about Malfoy from his very name – one of the most feared Death Eaters at the height of Voldemort's powers. He'd never seen his picture. But now he knew.
And McGonagall hadn't made much of the issue to the Ministry, it seemed, or maybe the Ministry thought it was some kind of joke played by some foolish student and simply left the matter as suspicious. Or maybe because none could actually face the fact of what could happen if the 'Dark Lord' returned again. You couldn't exactly name them cowards, for we all know about the wrath wrecked by He Who Must Not Be Named. But they were cowards nevertheless.
But then, the Ministry should have at least contacted him to see how serious the issue was; but now that 'Mr. Malfoy' was acting nicely with the Ministry again, they'd seriously felt this as some kind of joke.
Back to the room then; he asked it; and 'it', whatever it was, answered what he wasn't non-expectant about – that indeed the Yaxleys were killed by Lucius Malfoy. Now this was a man he and Butler would deal with later.
Artemis knew what Voldemort's thoughts were over killing muggle-borns – a simple thing that he wanted to see only purebloods – those with pure magic flowing through their veins – living in the magical world. But the very idea was faulty – if it was to happen that by some unlucky chance most wizards started having squibs and the high rate of decline of birth of magically gifted children continued, there would be no more humans who knew magic; but if purebloods and halfbloods were to produce children with muggleborns, there'd be more wizards and a natural tendency to live to a larger period – for the entire race, that is – would increase. Darwin's theory of natural selection.
Voldemort might have been gifted with magic owing to Salazar's blood, but not as much when it came to pure thoughts and intelligent thoughts. He was clever yes, but in a deceitful manner. Artemis knew he wasn't much different, but knew he wouldn't go to the extent Voldy did – he wouldn't destroy the world to just have his right established.
That could be an overstatement, but still little Ah-temis wasn't that cruel. Not even after he'd kidnapped a fairy and all that.
These were mainly the two questions he'd wanted to ask – though there were thousands of others he'd dearly wish to – only there wasn't time as of now. So he hurried back to the Great Hall, only to see it was nearly already 0800. He sat down to eat his breakfast, not exactly happily but with a kind of mind wandering over the infinite possibilities in a given question or instance, which he did without a grudge. If you would take that as happy, then do. If not, then don't. That's all I have to say about the matter.
So the classes began and Artemis started up with the sixth year's portions; the first five years, he was already thorough with; better than any student who'd even completed his OWLs.
When it came to the part when the teachers asked the students to practically show what they'd learnt, he'd grudgingly do the miniature 'tricks' that were virtually nothing before the stuff in the Sixth year books. But usually every time, he'd be the only one to do it at the first try.
Artemis had many other things to think about – his father was yet to be discovered. He was sure his father was still alive, he just feltit. That was not usually Artemis's way, but intuition looked a strong suit here. He just knewhis father was alive. Something inside him told him that his father was not no more. No, it wasn't just his solicitation to see his father alive. He knew this as if he'd seen his father alive in the future (this is actually true, but little does Arty know about it!) The search had to be hardened.
And of course, his cube – the C-cube, as he'd decided to call it – was under construction at home. He didn't want to bring it here and destroy its intricate mechanisms by bringing it in contact with a resilient magical force.
He was designing (and will finish it later, as you all would know!) a computer more efficient and compact than any in existence above the earth with the help of some of the LEP's equipments he'd stolen during his first fairy advent.
But apart from studies, there was something that'd recently interested him more – Voldemort's and Harry Potter's adventures – so he knew them better if need be. And he felt there was a need – with his suspicion of Malfoy being under Voldemort's command and the possibility that hecould return; and so, subsequently, the need of Mr. Potter – the boy – now a grown man – supposed to be destined to defeat Voldemort.
He'd done a little research on their histories, and especially about the final battle, where the Dark Lord had supposedly been defeated. He came to learn that Potter and Riddle were discussing something about powerful weapons during the duel. The Dark Lord had challenged Potter that he couldn't defeat him, for he said he was more powerful than Potter through both his weapon and skill. But Potter disagreed and said that it was the other way round and he possessed both skill and weapon to defeat him.
But this was something like history, written by someone he didn't personally know. Therefore not very reliable. An investigation would have to be done by him of those who had actually witnessed the battle. Ideally, Potter himself would be most suited. He really had many things to ask one Harry Potter. But for now, he would have to do with the given information.
The info was that they'd actually been talking about a weapon being more powerful than another. Being somewhat immersed into wandlore, the Fowl heir knew that some wands with a certain combination – like Yew and Phoenix feather, like his or Voldemort's wand – were slightly more powerful, owing to the fact that they were made to be better suited to powerful spells (puissant ones like Fiendfyre, or the Killing Curse, or the one Dumbledore employs in the OOTP against Voldy which forces him to create a shield for protection). But that was actually never enough of an advantage to tell your wand was simply more powerful. And that was the only weapon they'd used in battle.
Artemis had heard of legends, though, of a wand more powerful than all others, a wand known as the Elder Wand. He'd read something similar in one of the fairy tales, about a wand that could not be beaten. But it was a fairy tale, and couldn't possibly be correct. An unbeatable wand? Where did so much power come from?
And then again, there was this history, with hundreds of references to the wand etched throughout the ages. A havoc that only such an exceptional weapon could wreck. And in this case, not all references could be entirely wrong. But the idea was too… no, it was feasible. Or wasn't it, now? He'll have to think about it. This one was going to be as good as the translating the Book of the People had been.
Ah, the People. With all the technology and crafts designed by Foaly, they were still no match for the wizards of this world. The technology just miserably failed near areas with this kind of magic. But then, Foaly had no idea his technology didn't work at certain places. Neither did he know of these places and the wizards who lived there. And he was arrogant enough to overlook it.
But Artemis Fowl knew both of these places and of the wizards who lived here and that even fairy technology didn't work here, so he knew he had to improvise. Soon he'd find a way to use technology in these magical areas. And that might be quite a revolution. Like fans, air coolers, televisions, refrigerators, and so many cost-efficient things. He might as well make millions of galleons from patenting new inventions like these in the wizarding world. But it was possible that there were more important things at stake than televisions or refrigerators. Like the return of Voldemort, for example.
His life was just getting an interesting turn, and he was back to what he generally did; observing data for all-around benefit. Self-centered benefit, of course. He hadn't come to the point wherein he could put others' welfare before his own. He now had so many things to think about, and everything required some big devious plans. Just his favorite.
And time wasn't the enemy here (as it will be in his future – less than twenty-four hours to save the world and all that) – he had all the time on earth for plotting his dastardly schemes (not all, mind you). Not that he required much of it, anyway – for he was a quick analyzer of situations – for that was how his brain worked. But that's a very primitive description of his brain, and its more complicated thought processes would probably even make him doubt he manages to think all that. Or maybe, probably not.
Hey, if you remember, I said that time wasn't the enemy here. Then what was? The sheer amount of plans needed to be devised and the perfection with which they had to be executed. Executing one perfectly was just more than simple, two wasn't difficult, three could be done, four would be slightly difficult (mind you, all this is for Artemis. I doubt any one of us would dare to make a single illegal venture one involving a lot of devious and tacticalstrategic plans like Artemis makes that could result him in jail if in anyway the Constables On Patrol (that's the cops for you) manage to catch him – not that they would, anyway).
But eight of them? That was definitely devilishly difficilitating even for the great Artemis Fowl.
And then there was always the thing about improving his wizarding skills. Not to belittle his skills of course, he knew better about magic than most students at school, both in theory and practice. He'd even invented at least a dozen spells on his own that could be used for considerably work-saving purposes but he wasn't going to patent them just yet. Nope, definitely not yet. He was even closing in on the spell he thought was possible to be created for flying, and that would be history. For it was said that no known spell enabled wizards to fly unaided, except by making oneself an Animagus. He was going to change that and make a fortune for that alone. He had, though, heard in stories of years past that the Dark Lord could fly in the air without broomstick, thestral or other known means of flying. Well, if the Dark Lord really could fly and was in accordance with Artemis's hypothesis 'still alive', then he now had competition. From none but the most profoundly gifted intellect ever known (please neglect the 'unknown' factor here, for it is simply unknown).
Author's Note
Hey guys & gals, I'm really, really, and REALLY sorry, you know. I had all this really tough time at school with a lot of homework and all my preparation to get into one of these bloody Indian Institutes of Technology that I scarcely got any time to continue the story. Please don't be disheartened, I'll try my best and surely will be more consistent with the updates from now on.
I know that how much ever I try to convince you, it will not suffice unless in person, so I'm not gonna plead you to forgive me and all that. But if you feel it makes you better, then my deepest apologies to all of you who're with me, more so for those who've stayed with me from the beginning.
I'm pretty sure this one wasn't like some of the better chapters you've seen me writing, well, for my standard. Mostly uninteresting with a little humor, I guess, and a big chapter too. Next one will surely be better than this one. Expect stuff in the next chapter. And I mean real Artemis Fowl stuff.
The plot for the second year will unravel gradually, I've already given you some clues in this chapter – but I hope to give my touch to it and not make it more like the corresponding Harry Potter book, as I have been criticized – to some extent correctly, I do admit – of following the plot of the Harry Potter book closely in my first book.
So expect better writing and an interesting (hope so) continuation of the story from the next chapter!
And of course, please review! Give your honest comments about the chapter; if you didn't like it, tell me, so that I can improve further. If you did like it, tell me all the same – I do require some encouragements and boosts to continue, for you know now (as you may have earlier) that I'm not an alien. Which human says he can do a task without the slightest support (I mean reasonable tasks here, not like adding 2 and 3 or stuff like that) from others? After all, we're all learning at every stage of our life, aren't we?
Oh guys, I don't think I have to tell you this again, but still... please review!