Disclaimer: Although my ambition is to be an author as good as Colfer, Rowling and Tolkien one day, none of their awesome plotlines and characters are mine. Phoey.
Chapter Five: Blondie
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Artemis found himself buried under a particularly large hot-pink suitcase with what felt like a mirror digging into his cheek. His instinct to start calling for help was quickly suppressed. He had already made himself look like a fool dozens of time today; he didn't need to prove it again.
Sure enough, Juliet's chipped-green nailpolished fingers soon appeared over the brim of the magenta luggage, lugging the oversized valise off her employer. He got up as well as he could with awry hair, usually perfectly straight, and grass-stained pants. With no small amount of distress, he saw his Armani loafers were ruined. Juliet would be so pleased.
"Thank you." He said coldly, not one to forget the rigorous punching lesson she had given him. Where was Butler when he needed him?
"You're welcome." She responded sweetly, smiling. He scowled at her, but turned to examine his surroundings.
In the distance, soaring turrets with gray-stone walls loomed in the horizon, not even properly blotted out by the ominous pine forests. A few windows shone like jewels from their stained glass, brought to life with orange candlelight. Here, back to reality, they seemed to be in a medieval street, lined with shops of all kinds. For crying out loud, there was a 'Zonko's Prank Shop'. Honestly.
Although Juliet looked like she was dieing to go into 'Madame Fuchsia's Clothing Boutique', he set his sights on the tavern near the end of the lane. Juliet sighed noticeably, and picked up her most important bag (Her boxing gloves and jade hair tie, of course). Walking fast to keep up with Artemis' long strides, she soon reached the tavern alongside Artemis.
It seemed like a clean establishment, at least from the outside. As all corrupted businesses should. The door was newly sanded, and gleamed with fresh varnish. The sign, labeled, 'The Three Broomsticks', had crossed broomsticks emblazoned upon it, and a warm glow that seemed to warm up even the temperate summer evening. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he walked in.
Instantly, the cheerful atmosphere enveloped him, just begging him to sit in a seat, and oblige the smiling waitress with a hefty tip and a mug of the amber beer. With the faintest hint of a smile on his face, he complied.
The hostess, all golden curls that made Juliet turn green with envy, walked up to them. "Whadya want, missus?" the lady asked, setting an outrageously large and fluffy quill against a pad of paper.
Before Juliet could speak and ask for a coke, he said, "The golden liquid, if you please. And I'm looking for someone by the name of 'McGonagall.'"
The girl laughed. "You mean Butterbeer? Sure, it's coming righ---" She stopped when her brain, small as it was, finally processed the second thing he said. "MacGonagall?" She asked, almost fearfully. "The Transfiguration that failed me in the fifth year and tried to give me a suspension oh dear." She slumped against the back of Artemis' chair, much to his displeasure. "Over there, sir." She whispered, tears brimming in her purple eyes.
Juliet looked genuinely frightened for Artemis. Blondes do not get scared easily, and this girl, with such gorgeous hair, was frightened out of her wits. This was bad.
(Artemis decided that this was because they were too dumb to be afraid.)
Anyways, this 'McGonagall' didn't like her pretty suitcases.
Artemis was already up and walking over, past the now openly crying Blondie, to where her hand had shakily pointed. A figure, cowled and wreathed in shadows like Butler on guard duty, was sitting in the line of fire, sipping his (Or her?) mug of 'Butterbeer'.
"Monsieur?" he asked the silhouette cautiously, not entirely sure that this was the McGonagall he had met briefly. It didn't look like her, to be sure. The proportions were all wrong…
"Yes, Mister Fowl?" it asked in oily smooth tones, throwing back the dark hood. Straggly black hair hung in loose, unkempt greasy locks around his face, which looked as if carved from rotten cheese, with a grimace to match.
"Who would you be?" he asked, responding in cold tones every bit as silky. It seems as if he had met a kindred spirit.
"Professor Snape, teacher of the Potions class at Hogwarts." He spat out 'Potion' as if it was a curse.
"Ah."
Juliet came by, flailing her hands madly. "Arty, Arty! The Butterbeer tastes great! You have to try—" she stopped short when she saw Snape. "Oh."
Disgust distorted the professor's features, which Artemis was greatly tempted to mirror.
"Arty?" Snape asked incredulously after several long moments.
Juliet blushed. "His nickname, mister…"
Snape ignored her, turning to Artemis again. "I trust you have made arrangements for your servant" Juliet looked as if she wanted to smack Snape upside the head. "and you will be coming with me shortly to Hogwarts."
Artemis nodded, sending a glare towards Juliet. "Never, ever tell anyone that my name is 'Arty' again." He seethed, standing up besides Snape.
She only smiled infuriatingly.
The professor stood up too, and they left Juliet to her own, hopefully capable, devices.
"Buh-bye!" shouted Juliet after them, turning briefly from her animated talk with the newly dubbed 'Blondie'.
Scowling openly, Artemis followed him into an awaiting carriage. He was pleasantly surprised to find his chest already loaded. Good. He didn't want to do it himself, with
Juliet too absorbed in her 'educated' discussion and all.
When he slipped into the carriage, the first thing he noticed was the certain lack of horses. The reins led to nothing but open air, yet the cart seemed to go not only in a perfectly straight line, but there was no driver, either. He frowned. Magic still needed some serious studying.
He turned, and fished around in his chest (After doing several complicated wand movements to undo the booby trap that would result in his brain not functioning properly for quite a while) until he found 'The Calling'. He had not touched it since the day he had bought it, and its touch still chilled him to the bone, for some strange reason he could not fathom.
When he brought it out, Snape stared at him with a mixture of shock and cold calculation. "Let me see that." He said, trying to snatch it back from Artemis.
Artemis drew his hand and the green book back. "Why?" he asked, curious about that desperate look on his face.
Snape looked him right in the eye. "Do you have any idea who that was written by? What it can do?"
"No." he said, now quite interested in the turn this conversation took. Only three days into the magical world and he was already finding arcane objects? Maybe some of Holly's extraordinary luck had rubbed off on him.
Coldly, but with more then a little fear in his voice, the professor said, "It was made by Salazar Slytherin, to aid in the enslavement of the Free Creatures. It disappeared for hundreds of years, and was found again by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He used it to gain terrible power." His voice dropped down an octave. "To kill."
Artemis got that tingle down his back, spreading throughout him until reaching his fingertips. "Then I had better learn it, then."
Snape sighed, a strange gesture for one such as him. "Very well. But do not come crying to me when the spells within go awry."
With the barest hint of a smile, Artemis opened the book to the second page. If people didn't like what he was doing, it had to lead to good things. Great things. Golden things.
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Of course, the ride to Hogwarts didn't last nearly as long as it should have. He only got finished reading the fifth page, far below Artemis' normal reading rate of two pages per minute. Whenever he tried to read it, the words danced on the paper, flashing green and silver around the elaborate pictures of fey creatures, both of the Faerie and Wizarding kind. There had to be a connection between the two, even if it had degraded to one as the Wizard/Muggle one.
He was interrupted from his thoughts by Snape prodding him with his wand as if he was road-kill. "Time to go, Mr. Fowl." He said, in that coldly slick voice of his. The perfect tones for a businessman, or one of the upper-level Mafiya from Russia. An imitation of it could prove useful…
Another poke. This one to hurry up.
With a slight smile, he turned from the book, and stepped elegantly out of the dismal carriage. Whatever had driven it was still unseeable.
"Come, Mr. Fowl." Snape beckoned to him, towards the grand doors of the castle he had seen earlier.
He followed him, past the ranks of what appeared to be small piles of rags, past the lush green lawn, past the stone gray walls, until he was at the bottom of a flight of mighty stairs. With a deep breath, he began to climb towards the top, where Snape had already gone.
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Two long hours later, he was panting slightly, and the top still did not look any closer. His legs felt as if they were on fire (Having been so desperate as to run at one point), and his arms were in hardly better condition.
He had had it. He stopped his steps, long as they were, and gasped like a fish out of water. "Enough!" he cried, plopping down on the hard flagstones. "How do I get up?"
Snape smile coldly, a smile that chilled him almost as deeply as the book. "Lesson number one, Mr. Fowl. Nothing is as it appears."
He stepped down a single step, and was suddenly at Artemis' side. "Not the trees, not the wind." His arm waved grandly into the air, gesturing broadly towards the castle, so very close, yet so far. "Not you, not me. Close your eyes, and pretend as if this was only a flight of normal stairs." He did, about ready to try anything now to get up to Hogwarts, where people seemed half-way sane. Sort of. "Step up."
He lifted a foot, imagining himself at the top, dissipating that infuriating grin that everyone seemed to be giving him these days from Snape's greasy face.
And he was at the top, with Snape in front of him, his billowing black robes tossed by the winds. "That is what separates us from Muggles. We not only know magic, but we accept magic into our lives." He walked towards one of the huge oaken doors, and it opened for him.
Artemis stepped in, to begin his true realization of criminality.
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A bad ending sentence, and a cliché at that. Did the 'lesson' that Snape give to Artemis interesting enough? I am just typing this as I go, with few plans for the story. I know what house he's going in to, and how it's going to end. That's it. This is the only story I don't have a complicated looking outline for (They look simple enough to me, but my brother claims they greatly resemble chicken-scratch).
Snape was a bit out of canon. More of 'Blondie' (No one take offense from those harsh anti-blonde words. I'm a blonde too, and my friends often profess I act like one too), Holly, tons of Juliet, and Butler *evil grin*. Possibility of Foaly, depending on how good I get at writing sarcasm.
Namárië,
*`~Nallasariel the Weeper