Um...hey. *cringes* Usual excuse, added with some Doctor Who obsessions...sorreh.

I'm going to stop doing reviewer responses unless the question is super important or something. -.-" Sorry 'bout that, but it gives me more time to write, and less nonesense for you all to read. If you find any plot holes (which I'm sure you will)...my apologies.

In any case, I've been watching Doctor Who, and I am officially in love, so you lot can expect some DW fics to start popping up. Possibly tomorrow. XD

Oh, and I know the chapter title is ridiculous. It's like, nine PM, okay? XD

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me. Please?


Chapter 7: Spells and Smells

Artemis lazily flipped through Hogwarts, a History, which despite not needing for the year, he had gotten, noting with interest that technology wasn't supposed to work on Hogwarts' grounds. Giving his hidden phone a cursory glance, he assumed that the magic involved in fairy technology protected it from the wizard school's wards, although there was no way to be certain.

To his relief, the next time he took a break from his musings and checked the time, Defense Against the Dark Arts was soon to begin. He snatched up his bag of supplies and made his way down to Snape's classroom with haste.

Most of the class was just settling in as he arrived and took a spot next to a tall girl with a face full of pimples, much to her fright. He pompously ignored her and began arranging his items to provide himself easy access to everything.

Snape had assumed an arrogant, careless position at the front of the classroom, looking down at all of them over his hooked nose. "I have not asked you to take out your books," he sneered. Artemis saw Hermione slip a textbook quickly into her bag, and did the same. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." His gaze raked over the classroom. Artemis appeared to be the only one unfazed. "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

A look of controlled fury dominated Harry's features, but he wisely said nothing.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you managed an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

The dark teacher began walking around the room, voice lowered. "The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and smarter than the first. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." He spoke with a strange note to his voice; a caress of affection almost. Artemis couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow.

Snape paused just for a moment to glare at him before moving on. "Your defenses must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo." He waved towards the grotesque pictures lining the walls as he spoke again, "These pictures give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse, feel the Dementor's Kiss, or provoke the aggression of the Inferius."

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" asked the girl named Parvati in a squeaky, frightened voice. "Is he using them?"

Snape didn't even stop to think.

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," he replied, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now." He resumed pacing around the room. "You are, I believe, complete novices in the art of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Artemis and Hermione simultaneously raised their hands. Snape's cold eyes fixed on the boy genius, who simply straightened in reply, expression completely neutral. "Mr. Fowl."

"You opponent would have no warning as to what spell you were to use," Artemis said mildly, folding his hands in his lap. "Therefore, you would have an advantage, if a only a split-second one."

Snape's eyes narrowed minutely. "Correct. Indeed, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, obviously; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some lack." His eyes stopped momentarily on Harry before moving on. "You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will intern try to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on." He waved a dismissal at them and simply watched with obvious disinterest.

As expected, Ron and Harry teamed up. Hermione and Neville did as well, although Neville didn't seem too thrilled about it, if only because Hermione was a far better spell-caster than he.

A pale, blond-haired boy sauntered up to Artemis at that moment, twirling a wand in his right hand, nose upturned in superiority. "You're a muggle-born, aren't you?" he smirked. "Pathetic. Shall I show you how a pureblood performs spells?"

Artemis felt a twinge of irritation, but shoved it down and coldy replied, "If you like."

The blond sneered and then took his place opposite the boy genius. "I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy."

"Artemis Fowl the second," Artemis answered in a similar tone, inwardly snickering at Malfoy's introduction. Bond. James Bond.

Then Malfoy seemed to become fractionally more serious, clearly concentrating hard. He flicked his wand, but nothing happened. Looking angry, he tried again, more sharply. And again and again, but to no avail.

Artemis hadn't expected anything, but he allowed a moment of silent gloating before brandishing his own wand and focusing his mind. A jinx, he muttered. A simple jinx will do. He thought for a moment, before adjusting his hold on his wand and summoning his magic, directing it at the wand with a good deal of concentration. He slashed in the air, and Malfoy only had time for a twitch of the wand before his legs sprung together and he went crashing to the floor, eyes entirely furious. Heads turned in astonishment, gaping openly at him. Hermione blinked before turning to Neville just as the boy was casting a muttered spell. She wordlessly deflected it, and earned a grin from both Harry and Ron.

Fairy magic is far easier to control than wizard magic, clearly, Artemis pondered as he silently released a humiliated Draco Malfoy. The flow is obviously different, and easily directed. Casting spells should prove easier for me in the long run. It is a good thing I've been practicing, however - otherwise I'd not know any spells at all.

"You think you know it all, Mudblood," Malfoy spat as he scrambled to his feet. "You caught me off guard, that's all." His eyes were stony and cold, and he was muttering a spell under his breath just as Harry screamed, "Portego!" from across the room and Snape was driven to the ground, interrupting all activity. Artemis and Malfoy both turned, distracted, although Artemis was curious as to what sort of jinx the blond might have pulled on him.

"Do you remember me tell you that we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?" Snape hissed as he got slowly to his feet.

Harry looked outright annoyed as he growled, "Yes."

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me sir, Professor." This clearly thoughtless response was recieved with gasps and hands clapped to mouths in astonishment from most, although the boys positioned behind Snape were grinning widely.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," Snape snarled. "I do not tolerate cheek from anyone, Potter. Not even 'the Chosen One.'"

And they were promptly ushered out of the classroom.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Artemis heard Ron cry as soon as Snape was out of earshot. Hermione said something, quieter, and Harry responded at the same level, quite vehemently, it sounded.

Shaking his head in both amusement and disbelief (although Harry Potter did seem like the type to respond like that to a teacher), Artemis followed them from a distance to the common room, where he expected Harry would recieve plenty more praise, and his and Hermione's acheivements would go unnoticed.

This didn't seem fair, and although Artemis was certainly no one to judge what fair was, he was certain that that wasn't it. He expected Hermione didn't much care, as he didn't, but it still bugged him a good bit. As he watched the trio, he could determine that Harry, despite being popular and well-known, didn't wish to be. Ron seemed to be forgotten in the midst of things, and from the slight twinge of both jealousy and admiration in the redhead's eyes, Artemis decided that the friend didn't care for it. Although he put up with it well enough, it appeared. And Hermione was obviously the brains, as well as the only girl. Her feelings were probably forgotten as well, even if she looked to be always included.

Artemis had to wonder if they were analyzing him the same way he was them. And although he didn't expect them to find anything out about him, he was a bit curious as to what they might think of him in this moment, no matter how malicious or loathing or careless the thoughts were.


As it happened, the Golden Trio weren't the ones considering Artemis then, but Snape, as he sat at his desk and calmed himself. Potter was a no-good student, and despite his promise to Lily, Snape wasn't so sure he'd be able to keep the boy alive for much longer - not if he replied like that to the Dark Lord at some point.

And then there was that Fowl boy. Even though he'd said nothing much besides anwering the question poised to him, he eminated a dominating, strange aura, one that Snape was eager to investigate. He'd also easily performed the non-verbal spell on the first try, unlike even Hermione Granger. There was something odd with that boy.

Possibly Voldemort odd.


After the break, Artemis trailed after Harry, Ron, and Hermione down to the Potions classroom, which was located in the dungeons below the school. He was expecting it to be cold and damp (which it was), but with Professor Slughort in charge, it was at least made more pleasant by the curious smells filling the room. Artemis suspected that Snape had had the room far less comfortable when it had belonged to him.

The smells were coming from several cauldrons at the front of the classroom, which people paused by and sniffed at as contented looks came over their faces and they smiled sleepily at each other.

"Now then, now then, now then," Slughort began as he took his place at the front and allowed everyone to sit down. "Scales out all, and potions kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

At this, Harry hesitantly raised his hand and requested books for himself and Ron, as well as ingredients, and Slughorn immediatly obliged, handing them both battered copies of the textbook.

"Now then," he continued, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of them, even if you haven't made them yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?" He gestured to the first cauldron, nearest the table where the Slytherins were seated. Hermione instantly had her hand raised.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she said when Slughorn called on her, looking quite pleased with herself.

"Very good, very good," Slughorn praised gleefully. Artemis noted that the man tended to repeat himself when excited, certain that it would come in handy at some point. "Now, this one here is pretty well known..." he motioned towards a potion near the Ravenclaws, "featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately. Who can - "

Hermione's hand was up yet again.

"Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said when once again called upon. Artemis saw Harry and Ron exchange almost amused glances before returning to the lesson.

"Excellent, excellent! Now this one here...yes, my dear?" Slughorn was once again interrupted by Hermione's hand.

"It's Amortentia!" she exclaimed, looking surprised and wistful.

Slughorn looked incredibly impressed. "It is. It seems almost foolish to ask, but I assume you know what it does?"

Hermione nodded eagerly. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world!"

Slughorn beamed. "Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," Hermione offered next, thrilled, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and - " She abruptly stopped and flushed.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" Slughorn asked, ignoring her blushing.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to - "

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Slughorn was grinning still. "Oho!" He turned to Harry. "'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

Harry smiled faintly. "Yes, sir."

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger." Slughorn then cleared his throat and went on, ignoring the whispered converstaion now going on between Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Artemis, sitting a few tables back, couldn't hear what was being said, but he assumed it had something to do with the compliment Harry had clearly given his friend. "Now, to enforce the point of the potion smelling different to all, would anyone like to tell the class what they smell?"

There was silence, but everyone took in a huge whiff of the heady scent.

To his surprise, the smell of wood - oak, suposedly - greeted Artemis' nose. The scent made a few blue sparks flicker on his fingertips, to his understandable concern. He could also feel an unbidden excitement swelling in his chest, which he quickly squashed down.

That is the magic talking, he schooled himself, flexing his fingers and trying to prevent any more sparks from escaping. He concentrated on the other scents instead, and immediately recognized his mother's perfume, the smell of a fresh pot of Earl Grey, and mint. He ignored as best he could the bits of wood-smell sinking into his pores, exciting the fairy magic in him. He wondered if this usually happened, and if not, why was it happening now? It's what attracts us, he reminded himself. Oak is attractive to a fairy. And with fairy magic inside of me, it is just as attractive to me. He made an effort to calm himself and zeroed in on the fact that Slughorn was about to speak, and he should really pay attention if he didn't want to fail the class.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room - oh yes." The professor gave a grave look at Malfoy and another boy, who were both looking mightily skeptical. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...

"And now," he continued. "It is time for us to start work."

A boy raised his hand. "Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one." He pointed to a smaller black cauldron on Slughorn's desk, the color of gold, and little drops kept jumping up and then falling back in the cauldron again.

"Oho," Slughorn said again. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he grinned, turning to a gasping Hermione, "that you know what it does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," she breathed excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class straightened, all attentions turned to Slughorn in anticipation.

"Another ten points to Gryffindor," the professor said. "Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis. Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."

Artemis' first thought was of what he could accomplish with just a shot of Felix Felicis. Just a year before, he would have immediately turned to crime...but now, he wasn't so sure what he would do with it. He could get money, true, but...there was something else that he wanted. But he couldn't quite figure it out. It was quite frustrating.

"Why don't people always drink it, then, sir?" asked another boy, thrilled.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," Slughorn scolded. "Too much of a good thing, you know. Highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" someone else questioned.

"Twice in my life. Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoons taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." His gaze turned dreamy. Artemis suspected he was acting for effect, but he couldn't be sure. Then he came back suddenly. "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was a startled, breathless silence.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," Slughorn said, taking a tiny class bottle with a cork out of his pocket it and displaying it for all to see. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

"Now, I must warn you that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions, like sports, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only...and watch how that ordinary day is suddenly extraordinary! So, how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion-Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draght of the Living Death..."

And with a few more words, Slughorn set the class to work.

Artemis busily gathered his supplies and opened his book to the correct page before starting. He dutifully followed all of the instructions, and was most certainly not pleased when his brew didn't react as it was supposed to. Slightly flustered, he continued, but to no avail. His potion simply didn't work out. He went on working, stirring and chopping and dumping ingredients into his cauldron. To his fury, nothing happened. He was just muttering an angry, "D'Arvit," when Slughorn announced that time was up and presented the Felix Felicis to Harry, who had somehow managed to get his potion just right.

Feeling aggravated, Artemis stalked off to his next class. He knew he shouldn't feel so uptight about it all, but he kept feeling like he could have used the potion for something important. An encounter with the past Opal, perhaps. They could finally catch her. And what could Harry do with a bottle of Felix Felicis anyway? Go on a perfect date? Sure, there was that dark wizard, and Artemis knew that Harry was supposed to be able to defeat him, but...

He shook himself and glanced at his hands. A few blue sparks sheepishly flickered out, as if sensing his anger.

It's the Amortentia still getting to me, he thought in a snarl. It's supposed to be attractive, though, not make me act like a jealous child! He took a few calming breaths and decided that when it came, he would skip lunch and take a stroll around the school. Shielded, naturally. Maybe burning off some excess magic would do him good. He was supposed to use it sparingly, but the sparks wouldn't leave him alone and he feared he might lash out at someone. Although his aggression was definitely odd, he couldn't help but blame the love potion. Love had never been his strong suit in the first place.

To his relief, as he drew farther and farther away from the dungeons, the anger dissipated. He noticed also that the smell had faded as well, with more than his fair share of happiness.

I'll have to ask Foaly about the effects of the strongest love potion in the world on a human-fairy hybrid.

And with that not-entirely-pleasant thought, he rushed off to Transfiguration, bag slung across his back and an emotionless mask on his face once more.


UPDATE: Made some small changes to this chapter, only in spelling. I'll do the same for the other chapters, eventually. For now, though, I'm back to working on chapter 9, which I think is nearly done. It should be up later today (the 27th of February 2013) or tomorrow, if things go according to plan.