Disclaimer: Okally dokally! Ickle Artykins isn't mine-ally. Yet-ally…
Rewritten as of September 26, 2004Chapter 3: Holly and Silver, with a Side of Short
Somewhere in Artemis' Head
The Leaky Cauldron
There was an endless sea of grass, stirred by a gentle breeze that created a shimmering series of ripples across its surface.Holly materialized before his eyes, resplendent in her green LEP jumpsuit and beach-ball of a helmet. The visor was up, revealing the upper half of her angular face.
Artemis nearly ducked his head to avoid a mesmer from her exposed hazel eyes. The realism of dreams was deceiving, especially considering the last was a surreal one of lollipops.
"Dreams are an interesting thing, Artemis," Holly said, obviously amused. "But I'm sure you're aware of that."
Dream-Artemis raised an eyebrow. He noticed that he was wearing the new robes Juliet had jointly picked with him, and a green-and-silver tie. Slytherin?
"Yes, I noticed."
Holly continued, regardless of the no, really tone of voice. The Holly Artemis knew would have given his nose something to perk his memory with. Apparently, his subconscious did not appreciate the beauty of the truth. "And have you ever heard of an oracle?"
Artemis nodded curtly, intrigued despite himself. Greek prostitutes that took primitive heroine to induce a hallucination. Yes, he was familiar with them. Robert Graves had made sure of that. (1)
"You know what happened to them after they stopped?"
He nodded again, playing along with the peculiar dream. "They went insane. Their brain believes they cannot go on without it, and they eventually die."
Holly grinned, revealing vaguely pointed teeth. If they were, in fact, related to pterodactyls, they would have retained that, whether they were newly instated herbivores or no. "Let's say one of these priestesses got into a new supply of opium. Let's also say one of Gaul's many minor warlords liked the idea of having an oracular wife."
Artemis' forehead crinkled like repeatedly folded paper, then smoothed out again. "Cassandra, or some ancestor?"
"Bingo," Holly said, winking roguishly. "And guess what was in that cup of Earl Grey you had at lunch?"
Artemis blanched, then looked thoughtful. "I thought it tasted queer—"
Holly's grin was like a trout in a river; a flicker, and then it was gone. "No, I'm just messing with you. Tea's different for wizards." She spat out that word as if it were a curse. Foaly had support in his words of the mutual hate between Fairies and Wizards—although, according to him, it was becoming increasingly one-sided.
His eyebrow raised molecularly. "So are you suggesting that I am a seer of some sort?"
She kept a poker-face; surprising, considering he very much doubted they even played poker in the underground. "I'm not telling you anything solid. I'm just a figment of your imagination."
"Yet if you are entirely of my own creation," Artemis countered easily, "why have you told me things that I do not already know?"
Holly smiled thinly. "Maybe I'm lying. Of course, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyways. You can't consciously control yourself in a dream."
"Later, I will have time to think about this," he replied. "Later, I will have my body back."
Real-Artemis half-expected his dream-counterpart to turn around on the field and wave.
Holly stared at him for a few moments, then laughed uneasily. "Next time you dare get your fingernails dirty, Artemis, things won't be so good for you." It seemed to Artemis that her voice became deep and hypnotic, almost a if it were layered in bass mesmer. "Innocents will be lost, and minds shattered. Holly shall have to make decisions, and she cannot save everyone. Holly and silver shall cause irregularities, unpredictabilities, things that destroy perfection. It is all to blame on the stubbornness of c—"She stopped suddenly, her eyes loosing their far-away look as she slid her visor up. "Well, whatever. Maybe if you're good, I'll bring you a lollipop."
"I don't l—"Artemis started, but stopped as Holly buzzed up her wings and melded seamlessly into the flowing grasses. It was déjà-vu all over again, and he was positive his mind just put in that part about the lollipops to annoy him.
His eyes opened to a loud snort!, graciously provided by Juliet.
Not yet willing to leave the surprising warmth of the blanket, he rolled his head over to look at Juliet.
She was snoring contentedly, with one hand draped over the dagger-sheaths she had pulled from numerous places on her person, and the other draped over the esker of as-yet unsorted clothing from yesterday's spree. Some things never changed: Artemis always ended up doing something physical for himself.
Through sheer force of will he got out of the bed, and swiftly changed into a set of dark-blue robes that Juliet had aided him in picking. Shivering from the pre-dawn cool let in by a foolishly opened window, he crossed over to the pitted table in one corner. After rummaging through precariously-balanced boxes of purchases, he unearthed the gleaming ironwood chest. Intricate hand gestures, memorized with the help of the shop owner's mnemonic spell, ensued, unlocking the first series.
He drew a key from beneath his collared white shirt, where it hung on a thong, to undo the mechanical part of the lock. Magic was wonderful, yes, but he was almost positive the majority of wizards didn't bother learning how to unlock a Muggle bolts.
After sifting through the various products carefully packed away in the chest, he drew the Cube from its protective covering and settled back down on the bed.
Creating the Cube, as he had begun to call it, had been one of his more useful endeavors following his awareness of the People. Compressing technology and connecting otherwise unrelated systems had been an interesting challenge, although, according to Juliet, the aesthetic value of it was nil.
The small blue cube hummed to his touch, opening up like a scallop. A keyboard and monitor slid noiselessly out, and he accessed the as-yet unread Harry Potter files.
Reading slowly to digest this information, he began to see why he was so famous. So he killed the most feared Wizard in a century without even trying? And was a successful student at Hogwarts, who had saved the Sorcerer's Stone from the dark wizard's evil grasp, and still managed to (more or less) keep out of the public spotlight? Not bad, for an eleven-year-old. Of course, that was what a lot of people said about him.
"Artemis," Juliet said, coming up from behind him. She did not look like a morning person at the present moment. "What was with all that muttering? It kept waking me up."
"A dream." He said it a little too hastily, folding the Cube up again.
She plopped down on the bed beside him, pulling her from its over-night braid. "If you need help with anything, you just need to say so," she said, sounding sympathetic. "I'm here for y—" Her hair, now unbraided, gave her an opportunity to look at it. The many stray strands from her sloppy weaving had tangled themselves in a complex knot, infinitely more so then any Alexander the Great ever had to deal with. Her dirty-blonde hair seemed like a giant rat's nest, with a rather bizarre background of pink silk pajamas. She leapt up again, sprinting over to the table and began digging furiously for her brush, much to Artemis' relief. Can't have her knowing too much about him. Magic opened too many possibilities into what one could do with even information about dreams or personal lives.
Smiling slightly at the new complexities in his life, he began happily planning their day.
Outside of Ollivander's
Diagon Alley
"Ollivander's Wand Shop," he read from his list, absently chewing on the end of his outrageously long and fluffy quill. Juliet's pen, of course, but sometimes bad habits had to be given leeway.
They stood just in front of Ollivander's, their stillness creating an island amidst the river of people around them. Artemis' eyes were fixed squarely on the door, weighing the chances that he would burst in on someone else's arrangement. One-way windows were such a pain.
"Are we going in or not?' asked Juliet impatiently, flicking her now perfectly combed hair over her shoulder. It remained unbraided, since it was still in the drying process from the magical bath she had taken. "If you're going to take forever, we might as well go into Violet's Shoppe since I do need some dress robes—"Artemis hurried in.
Ollivander's was full of long, narrow boxes, filling the room up into the deepest of the haphazard hallways that branched from the main shop. Everything seemed so old, from the antiquated lamp to the mechanical register… and dusty. Despite his resolve to manage a dignified appearance, he sneezed. Damn dust mite allergy.
A man wearing a cheesy tweed jacket, the sort one only saw in half-rate detective movies, came from behind a corner, smoothing back his mouse-gray hair. He gave the impression of being wise beyond his years, gray eyes fathomless as they scanned the new customers. He came to rest behind the cash register, and began rummaging with his register. Most likely clogged from all the dust.
"I need a wand," Artemis enunciated clearly, trying to regain some of the dignity he had lost, "and so does mademoiselle Juliet here."
The man looked at him knowingly, gray eyes sightless as they looked at each of them. "You're a Fowl, right?" he said at last, squinting slightly. "Of Fóle's brood?"
Artemis nodded, mind racing. Magic must have its perks, if people lived that long.
Juliet came to the same conclusion, and openly goggled at the man. He only looked about fifty. "No WAY. That's like... as old as the dinosaurs!"Artemis shot her a scathing glare, which was answered by a shrug and grin.
Perhaps Ollivander truly was old as the dinosaurs, since he did not appear to have heard that last remark. "I know just the thing for you..." He stepped back into the cluttered corridors from which he'd come, and rummaged around for a few moments. When he came back, he held three brown boxes delicately, and he passed one of them to Artemis proudly. He made Juliet lunge for the other two.
He turned towards the Fowl heir. "Holly, a whopping fifteen inches, rigid, with a core of Incan silver from Macchu Picchu, and a veneer of phoenix tears. Made by my great-grandfather." Artemis, despite evidence to the contrary, found himself thinking of a Triceratops with a pointy hat.
Artemis opened the box, careful not to look too eager, and grasped the long stick. It hummed beneath his hands, vibrating with near-familiarity. Green and silver sparks shot out of one tapered end, rocketing around the room like small scintillating dragonflies.
"Green and silver..." murmured Ollivander and Artemis simultaneously. Juliet looked at both of them like they were loonies, and opened her own boxes.
"Magnolia and Myrtle, ten inches, core of golden Unicorn hair, and a splinter of a Unicorn's horn." he said after the fireworks had faded, sounding unhappy to be parted from the two wands. "They are a pair."
Artemis frowned, looking Ollivander. The last of the fireworks faded from his own successful testing. "I thought it was customary to have one wand."
Ollivander shrugged in indifference, watching Juliet as she inspected her wand. "Recently, I have been experimenting with designs and, according to the Wandmaker's Union's research, young people would find the idea of two wands…" He searched for the right word. "'Cool'."
There was an edge to his voice that suggested he disliked the move towards pop culture instead of classical. Artemis could relate. Juliet could be awfully annoying sometimes.
He looked at Juliet suddenly. It was true she hadn't gotten a recommendation for magical training. Frankly, he couldn't see how any magical talent could have leaked into her bloodline at all. AT heart, she was still a somewhat naïve girl that was going to be dealing with things she had never dreamed of before—and he was positive her mental capacities would not be able to cope. She needed that boost that a wand would give her.
The only thing it would cost him was a very annoying girl if giving a wand to a Muggle was a no-no. And a few dozen Galleons.
Juliet grinned. "Oh, so they're like twins?" She grabbed each of the wands, one in her right hand and one in her left, and pointed them at Ollivander. He flew back into one of his corridors at the magical blast, sending a mushroom-cloud of dust as the wand boxes cascaded around him. Artemis deigned to help him by keeping Juliet from the spilt wands. As the dust settled they heard "Thirty Galleons," come out like a whisper.
Juliet laughing, they left the money (no tip) on his desk, and went off to the Owl Emporium.
After pushing their way through the crowds (Done happily by Juliet), they finally made it in. Whilst going through what seemed like a zoo of animals, he selected a midnight-black Great Horned Owl. After Juliet pleaded in a most annoying fashion for twenty minutes, he relented and bought her the twin golden baby Kneazles she had been eyeing. Two pairs of twins thus far. Juliet seemed to like them since, in the words of Ollivander, they were 'cool'.
He regretted that decision almost immediately after he left the rather smelly establishment, for she started cooing like a dove over her newfound loves. "My precious!" she crooned, tickling one's downy ear. One of the cats swiped her playfully on the nose. "You're so CUTE!" Suffice to say, he was not happy the next morning when he found that it had chosen his stock of 'Dragon Warts' as a litter box.
As they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron they were bumped. It wasn't the bump itself that caused Artemis to groan—he had been touched quite a lot since Juliet had started paying more attention to her kittens then to road—but the bumper.
Lockhart looked much better today, probably because he had time to sleep off what must have been a very nasty hangover. His golden curls were freshly washed, and reeked of the scent of rotting rose petals. He wore not lilac but conservative creams and blues, and probably in a style that Juliet would approve of.
Of course, Juliet would probably have approved anything of Lockhart's in her present state of mind. The transformation was instantaneous; her carefully manicured fingers froze in mid-pet, Sassy Strawberry lips slightly apart. Her blue eyes, framed by mascara and eye-shadow, widened, taking in every bit of his lanky body.
Lockhart smiled in their general direction, eyes flickering towards where a solid wall of paparazzi advanced through the Diagon crowd. One hand reached instinctually for a bag at his waist, withdrawing a comb as he turned and continued on his way.
Artemis coughed, trying to catch Juliet's attention. "We really should be going."
Juliet blinked, turning away from Lockhart's suddenly retreating back. "Oh. Right. Where were we going to?"
Artemis pointed towards a store labeled Flourish and Blotts, which was in the direction that Lockhart swaggered towards. "There."
Juliet nodded, hand scratching behind the feline's ears. It purred, the sound only slightly different from the traditional Muggle cat, as its brother was dropped into one of Juliet's bags to leave her hands free. "'kay."
The young Fowl heir looked at her sharply as they walked closer, money-bag clinking like a badly-played tambourine. "Focus, Juliet. We don't know everything about this place. Hostiles could be at every corner."
She nodded again, but her eyes still followed Lockhart as he disappeared through Blott'sdoor.
Artemis shook his head at her behavior. One day they're ready to kill someone in a dozen extremely unpleasant fashions, and the next they'd do a lemming for him. Women.
Police Plaza
Haven, Lower Elements
Holly was not having a good day. Her shower had broken and sprayed her with mud-water, the front door had fused shut, the freezer defrosted and everything became a puddle on the floor, she had lost her keys, and, perhaps the most demoralizing of them all, the mirror broke when she looked into it.
Sure, she could say it happened because her next-door neighbor had suddenly turned up the music very loud when her radio-alarm came on, but she did that every day. And it was never quite timed like that. What did Root say for these situations? Some damn Mud-Man quote…
She muttered something extremely vulgar under her breath. Even the LEP standard helmet was against her, nearly suffocating her in the tunnels when the filters stopped working.
Yes, it was one of the more pathetic days for Holly. It was about to get much, much worse.
The Ops Booth, centered in the plaza Holly was crossing, opened suddenly as Foaly trotted out, looking very mad. Holly was brought to mind of a muted swear-toad by the unique expression of centaur rage.
"Short!" he barked, not bothering with the comm. Holly slid her vengeful visor up quickly, accelerating to a light jog.
Foaly almost never left Ops, and with his new addition of surround-sound and a fifty-centimeter monitor, he even spent his rec time there. Rumors had it that he was even petitioning the Council to add the centauran version of a futon.
"What's wrong?" she asked when she was ten meters from Foaly, slowing to walk.
She was answered with Root and Trouble coming from Ops, both looking very haggard.
"I know, I know," she said sheepishly, raising her hands into the air. "I'm late. And yes, I'm aware that there's no excuse."
Root seemed strangely unconcerned about this, instead turning to Foaly. His hue of beet-red deepened to a handsome indigo. "Well, tell her."
Holly turned to Foaly as well, looking very concerned. Root usually jumped at the opportunity to rip her to shreds for minor misdemeanors, like being thirty minutes late. Being female in Recon gave you know leeway. "Tell me what?"
Foaly rubbed his head. "You know Artemis?"
Holly already didn't like the way this was going. "Yes…?"
Trouble ruined the tension by spilling the beans. "He's going to Hogwarts."
A B'wa Kell goblin could have walked in and not be noticed.
"No," Holly whispered. "Nononononono…"
"Yes," Foaly said grimly, looking over at Root. The blue in his cheeks had receded somewhat, turning him from plum to cherry. "And we've received orders from the Council—"
"…Nononono…"
"—to send a Recon force."
"No," Holly said solidly, shaking her head. This could not be happening to her.
Root looked at Holly, his face reddening again. "I've already signed out a shuttle to the surface, as well as the necessary science. DoubleDex all around"
Foaly made an indistinct noise deep inside his throat.
Holly looked between the three of them as if they were mad. She wished that she could just wring Fowl's scrawny little neck right now—
Something clicked in her mind as she associated that thought with where she would be going. Holly felt the future of her civilization come to rest squarely on her shoulders. It almost flattened her like a swear-toad beneath a troll's filthy feet.
Trouble gave her a grim look. He seemed similarly uncomfortable with this new responsibility. As if Grub wasn't enough already.
Why did these things always happen to her?
(1) Yes, that is what the Oracle of Delphi (Amongst others) really was. The sanitized versions of Greek history and mythology tend to leave little things like drug usage and prostitution out. Try reading Graves more often. Can't beat his city-by-city approach to things.
If I got the drug wrong, feel free to correct me. It might have also been Amanita muscaria, a fungi, instead of opium.
Namárië,Nallasariel the Weeper