Disclaimer:I do not own Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. I do, however, own the plot of this story and any OCs I may introduce at a later date.
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Upon reaching the station, Artemis exited his compartment, calmly secured it with a number of heavy-duty wards (he wanted his compartment kept in good condition for the next time he was on the train, and certainly wouldn't be having anyone else in it without invitation), and stepped out. All the returning students were making their way purposefully towards a fleet of carriages pulled by what appeared to be Thestrals (so seeing Holly die on Hybras did count, even if he undid it, he mused), while a few first-years were uncertainly starting to follow them. Then a loud voice echoed across the platform.
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! All righ' there, Harry?"
A huge, hairy man beamed at the boy with the scarred forehead. Artemis, lacking anything better to do, followed at the back of the group, taking in the castle with a raised eyebrow. When the huge man mentioned boats, however, he stepped in. "Perhaps it would be well to give the new students a demonstration of what can be accomplished if they work hard in their studies? I find people work better when sufficiently motivated."
The beard and hair swivelled in his direction, eyes looking out from somewhere vaguely in the middle. "Er, who migh' you be?"
"Professor Fowl, Defence Against the Dark Arts. May I?"
"Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys, but jus' call me Hagrid. Go ahead."
With a thin smile, Artemis drew his wand and the tip seemed to blur for a moment as he made a fast, complex and precise movement within the space of maybe a square centimetre or two. The air temperature seemed to drop, and ice began to crystallize on the bank of the lake. It grew up and across, resolving in short order into a magnificent suspension bridge, lit by floating balls of light. Carved into the central support pillar was the crest of Hogwarts, while the four corner pillars, two on each bank, bore the crest of one Founder each, and glowed in their respective colours.
Jaws dropped all around at this feat of magic, and Artemis, taking advantage of their stunned daze, led the way onto the bridge. The walkway underfoot was crosshatched for grip, and the magic inherent in the structure provided additional sticking force, ensuring that not one student slipped. As they passed onto the far bank, huge translucent projections of a snake, a lion, a badger and an eagle (that always annoyed Artemis, the house was Ravenclaw, for goodness' sake) shimmered into existence and let out a deafening cry to welcome the new students. Jaws dropped further, but Artemis allowed them no further time to gawk, striding towards the cave entrance over ice that formed under his descending feet.
A staircase led up and out onto the front lawn, right before the great oak door, providing a perfect view of the towering structure. Artemis snorted to himself. Designed to awe and cow, no doubt.
Hagrid knocked tentatively, glancing at the young Professor as he did so, and the door swung open to reveal a stern-looking witch with greying hair. Artemis instantly knew that this was not someone to be crossed. Hagrid coughed nervously. "Er, the firs'-years, Professor McGonagall… and Professor Fowl too."
McGonagall turned a flinty gaze on Artemis. "And why was Professor Fowl not at the staff meeting we held earlier today?"
"I was informed of no such meeting, ma'am. I'm sure I can catch up. Oh, I should dissolve the bridge before I go in…"
A flick of his wand heralded a distant sound of crashing water. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Bridge?"
"Yes. I thought it might be a good idea to show the new students what can be accomplished if they study hard, so I raised an ice bridge out of the lakewater instead of the usual boats. It was an interesting exercise. If you'll excuse me, I should get to the staff table."
The clamour of the students distracted her long enough for him to slip by.
"It was so cool-"
"- an entire bridge out of ice-"
"-all these floating lights-"
"-the crests on the pillars-"
"-you mean glowing pillars-"
"-and the house animals at the end! That was awesome!"
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The Great Hall was filled with chattering second through seventh years (most of the noise came from the Gryffindor table, he noticed), but they quieted down when Artemis entered. He paid them little mind, though smirked slightly when the Metamorphmagus tried to hide behind her friend at the Hufflepuff table.
There was a seat free beside the Headmaster, which he assumed was for McGonagall, so that left a place next to… ah yes, Snape. The used-to-be youngest Potions Master in history until Artemis beat his title. From the glare he was getting, the man knew it, and he allowed himself a small smile in the direction of the greasy-haired brewer before turning his attention to the rest of the Hall. The first-years came in soon after, and a tattered old hat was produced. This, then, must be the Sorting Hat. He wondered idly what House he would have been put in, and quickly came to the conclusion that it would inevitably have been Slytherin. Still it would have been nice to know…
The Sorting was over remarkably quickly, with Harry Potter going into Gryffindor, as Dumbledore seemed to have expected, judging by the satisfied expression on his face. The year seemed very small for a group that was supposed to make up a seventh of the students present. He supposed that it was the product of the Voldemort war, since there was actually quite a lot of space at all the tables, and the children here would have been conceived during that conflict. Such a thing would make prospective parents think twice, but this group was smaller than even that should suggest. However, there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he put it aside just in time to hear the Headmaster start talking about him.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lord Fowl! Now, as we know, he never actually attended Hogwarts, or indeed any school of magic, so I thought it would be nice to offer him the chance to partake in an honourary Sorting. What say you, Professor?"
Artemis smiled and nodded gracefully, but inside he was fuming. How dare the man try to undermine him before he'd even started teaching?! At least it was still early enough to turn the game around. If he'd discovered his magic much earlier, the man could have done irreparable damage before he had the chance to correct it. Standing, he picked up the Sorting Hat. "Thank you, Headmaster, and while it is true I did not receive a formal education, I am rather glad of the fact, as any conventional school would have been far too slow. The first years can attest to my ability. If any of you wish to ask them how they got to the castle this year, I suspect you would find the story somewhat different to your own experience."
That last was directed at the students. Dumbledore was now the one to hold an expression of forced politeness, not visible as a mask to anyone without a forensic level of perception. Naturally, Artemis saw right through it, but without further ado placed the Hat onto his head.
My my! What's this?! A whole other magical world… well, I never thought I'd see the day. Don't worry, Lord Fowl, your secret is safe with me. Now, I think we both know where you belong, don't we?
"Slytherin!"
The table on the far right of the hall nodded and clapped politely. Snape glared. Dumbledore looked slightly troubled, and caught Artemis' eye. As soon as he did so, there was a tickling around the mental shields the young genius had erected, and he narrowed his eyes slightly at Dumbledore before gripping the probe and twisting it forcefully. The Headmaster convulsed, blood suddenly gushing from his nose, and slumped back in his seat. The teachers and students both went white in shock, and Madam Pomfrey, the Nurse, rushed over immediately. "Albus! Albus, what's wrong?"
All the staff clustered around a pale and swaying Dumbledore as he was helped to the hospital wing, with the exception of Snape and Artemis, who remained at the Head Table. Artemis continued eating calmly, his example leading most of the students to settle back down, but Snape kept an even more poisonous glare than before on him for the whole meal, touching not a single bite of his food.
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Harry Potter woke up the next morning feeling confused. The events of last evening had all been a bit of a rush. That amazing ice bridge over the lake (the bushy-haired girl hadn't shut up about power requirements and arithmantic matrices and all sorts of jargon for several hours afterwards), then the hat putting him in his parents' old house, and then the new Professor getting Sorted into Slytherin. That put Harry off him somewhat, after hearing about the House of Snakes from Ron, but he decided that, since the man had helped him on Platform 9 ¾, he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.
His first lesson of the day was History of Magic. Well, that was good – he needed to know more about the world he was now a part of. He might have hated History at his old school, but surely it couldn't be anywhere nearly as bad as that?
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Artemis was in a good mood. He had his first class second period, so his morning was extended by an hour. He sat down to breakfast, ordering a healthy meal, when a flock of owls descended on him, delivering no less than thirteen envelopes, each one with the crest of a different House. Opening the first one, he nearly spat out his drink when he read the words 'Marriage Contract' at the top of a legal document. Hurriedly scanning the letter, he found that his sorting into Slytherin had rendered him 'acceptable' as a potential husband to the daughter of a great many pureblood Houses. Though he was technically Muggleborn, they had got around that by reasoning that he was directly descended from the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Fowl, and since he was very rich in his own right, without the ancestral vaults, he was nobility anyway. Shaking his head at their blatant money-grabbing attempts, he once again almost spat out his drink when he read the names. Some of these girls were in his classes!
Carefully folding the letters and returning them to their envelopes with a distinct air of distaste, he wrote a polite letter indicating that, while he was flattered, he would prefer to find his partner on his own and form a relationship based off exactly that – a genuine relationship – rather than a desire to form an alliance. Duplicating the letter and putting a copy in each envelope, he sent the owls straight back where they came from and resolved to never, never mention it to those of his students whose names had been on the letters.
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Mia Slughorn was watching Professor Fowl intently. A Slytherin seventh-year, her father, Horace Slughorn, was one of the pureblood patriarchs who had offered a marriage contract to the man. His reaction showed that he hadn't been expecting it, but she had to admit that she was impressed with how well he handled it, given that he'd only been part of the wizarding world for a couple of months. Now that she'd got a good look at him, she felt slightly disappointed that he'd turned the contract down – he was very good-looking. No matter; the contents of the letter he'd written (gleaned through a sneaky monitoring charm) stated that he would start a relationship based on personal feelings, so she'd have to play it that way. If she could get married to him, then the House of Slughorn would gain a powerful ally.
She did, perhaps, feel slightly guilty about the love potion she'd slipped into his food down in the kitchens, but then she was the child of a renowned Potions Master, and she didn't really feel like waiting for him. Besides, he'd never said they'd be real feelings. Now all she had to do was wait for the potion to take effect. She had Defence first period, and she had timed the effect to start just at the end of the class. He should ask her to stay behind, and then… things would start to go her way.
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From the first bite of food, Artemis had known it had been dosed. Wandlessly summoning a powerful antidote from the bag he kept with him at all times, he neatly palmed it and tipped the vial into his goblet without anyone noticing it. He paused before taking a sip, scanning the hall and noting that he felt a gentle pang of longing when his eyes fell on a particular seventh-year Slytherin. She smiled prettily at him, and he remembered that she had a class with him first. Ingenious, but not enough to catch him out. By the feel of it, she'd timed the potion to take full effect by the end of the lesson so that she didn't have to deal with anyone else around. Smiling to himself at the deviousness of the students, he took a long pull from his goblet. Love potion neutralised, he returned to his meal.
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Artemis' first Defence lesson, a seventh-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class, went very well. The students all seemed to enjoy the lesson, and he'd successfully managed enough surreptitious glances to convince the girl that her potion was still in effect. When everyone began to leave, he made his move. "Miss Slughorn, a word please."
She paused, looking at him coyly over her shoulder, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. As the last of the other students filed out, he shut and locked the door with a flick of his wand.
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Mia could barely keep her calm demeanour. This was it, her chance! Imagine how the headlines would scream… Slytherin Seventh-Year Snaps Up Fowl Heir!. She'd be rich, powerful, and her husband would follow her every whim thanks to the joys of potion-induced love. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and watched with growing anticipation as he shut and locked the door.
Then things went horribly wrong.
A third flick of his wand had her suddenly immobilized, and his cold gaze was terrifying. "Dear me, Miss Slughorn, you didn't really think that the Defence teacher would fall for a simple love potion, do you? I happen to hold a Potions Mastery – the record for youngest ever, actually – with a perfect score, and I know love potion when I taste it. Given that I always carry an antidote, it was simple enough to identify you from the diminished effect – a downside to timed potions, that – and then neutralize it. The question is… what do I do with you? I suppose I should let you tell me your side first."
Another flick released her head and she began to gabble. "My father wanted a marriage contract, and you turned it down, and I need your money and power. I wanted to be recognized, well-known, famous even, and you were my way to do it. I was going to have everything I wanted, and-"
She found herself silent again, and then her eyes widened as she realised how much she'd revealed. She'd never meant to say that, so how…?
Artemis smirked. "The Truth Charm is a handy little spell, you know. Normally only works on Muggles, Squibs or very weak wizards, but with enough power you can use it on anyone, and with enough subtlety they won't even know it's there. Now, let me make this clear. I am nobody's pawn. I know your father is a Potions Master, so I don't doubt he put you up to this, but that said, you have lost a hundred points for your house, you will serve a month's detention with me, and, with the Headmaster's approval, you'll be on probation for the rest of the year."
"Granted, my boy."
Mia whipped her head round, wincing as her neck protested, to find none other than Albus Dumbledore calmly sitting at the teacher's desk. He smiled at her. "I have always been a dab hand as Disillusionment Charms, my dear, and I must profess I was intrigued when Professor Fowl sent me an urgent message to come invisibly to his classroom by the end of the lesson. I now see why. Step carefully, my dear – you are on thin ice."
Despite the grandfatherly manner, there was steel in those blue eyes, and when the paralysis left her limbs, she scurried out as fast as she could.
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"Bloody hell mate, that was a nightmare of a day!"
Harry nodded in agreement with Ron. They'd had Double History of Magic, so boring they'd gone back to sleep, Malfoy had returned with a vengeance at break ('No teachers around to save your scarred hide now, Potter!'), then they'd had double Herbology which they were both rubbish at, and finally a Potions lesson, the worst of all. Snape seemed to have it out for Harry, asking him impossible questions and turning a blind eye to the sabotage of his potions. His teaching was abominable – he simply put the instructions on the board and told everyone to get on with it, then went around insulting people for not doing perfectly. By the end of the lesson, Harry was ready to curse him, if he knew any curses.
At least they had Defence Against the Dark Arts the next day. Ron had heard good things about it from his brothers, Fred and George. Apparently it was the best DADA lesson they'd had in their entire time at Hogwarts.
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As Quirrell sank back into his sofa, Voldemort was ranting.
Muggle Studies! Why in the name of Magic would we want to study those filth?! We need only know that they are fit for nothing more than servitude! And your incompetence, Quirrell, has cost me the Defence position. I cannot get easy access to Potter now, and I need it! We must alter our plans. Here is what to do…