Disclaimer: I would do almost anything to even own partial rights to any of my favorite fantasy series, I don't, so none of this is technically legal.
'Belle' is another word for 'girl' in French.
Chapter Six: Beaten by the Belle
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
The doors shut with a resonating clang behind him, echoing through the cold stone corridors. He spun around, only to find himself faced with the glowering Snape.
"Are you ready, Mr. Fowl, to begin your classes?" he asked, gesturing to the long hallways beyond the grand entrance.
He should have nodded. Every logical and criminal reason was telling him to say yes to him, to begin the marvelous journey to true fame and fortunes.
"No." he said, quietly.
Snape stared at him, unable to understand. "You do not want to go yet." He stated, unbelieving.
Artemis looked sharply at his soon-to-be teacher. "Did you not hear me, Professor? I said I didn't want to go to class yet. I am unprepared to begin my lessons yet, because I need time to refresh myself from a wearisome journey" he waved his hand aimlessly in the air "and wearisome company."
Snape nodded. "Very well." His face twisted in a sneer of disdain. "Professor McGonagall insisted that you lodge in the Gryffindor quarters until the rest of the students arrive." He smiled sourly. "McGonagall shall be here shortly, and would have brought you to your first class had you been willing." With that, he swept away down one of the many corridors with a dramatic swirl of his cloak.
Muttering softly to himself about the impromptu-ness of teachers that thought they were the only important thing, he sat down on a convenient bench and waited for McGonagall to arrive.
Little did he know that two of his worst enemies were standing not twenty feet from him.
Not Blondie.
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Holly swore fervently in a dozen languages, all of which would have made this story an 'R' rating. Not only had her LEP gear suddenly refused to work, but something that greatly resembled mildewed kitchen window curtains was tangled up in her feet and Trouble of all people was hopping around like a frog trying to get the green jumpsuit off without the electronic seals. Not a terribly pleasant sight.
"D'ARVIT d*** FOALY why did he have to make everything so bloody COMPLICATED so only his royal GENIUS-NESS could figure out this rotted HELMET….." and so on and so forth. Truth be told, Holly was entertaining similar thoughts about him right now.
Their equipment had unexpectantly stopped working after rising only a hundred feet or so in front of London, and something happened that ended up them having to make an emergency landing with nonfunctional equipment on the very hard dirt in a mysterious forest with only a slight glimpse of a gray fairy-tale castle ten miles off. Foaly's last words over the mike had something along the lines of 'Short! Remember that Mud-men's and our magic don't mix? Fool!" Meaning, of course, that perhaps she should have listened to him for just this once.
But, of course, Foaly was not one to brag, heaven forbid. He had only told him not to mix Fairy magic and Mud-men logic several hundred times over the comm unit before it failed, thanks to his brilliant experiments. She had only endangered the entire fate of the known world and a certain Recon officer who happened to take a sudden likeliness to a toad to a heartless criminal mastermind who wouldn't hurt a fly. He'd only take whatever money it had, badger it about being a hostage and then throw it out to the elements to certain death and destruction with the utmost in care and kindness.
Muttering a few choice words about evil genius(s), she turned to Trouble. "Hurry up, tier-firn." His face turned to the consistency of spoiled milk, which was promptly erased when he smacked right into the trunk of an overly-large oak tree.
She was already in her normal, every-day save-the-world clothes that the Recon unit wore under the notorious green jumpsuit. A nice, sensible pair of pants, and a matching shirt of that clichéd green. Adding a few more muttered oaths, she picked up the dish-rag with one hand, examining it.
Or rather, trying to. She couldn't see her hand on the other side of it.
Grinning broadly, she turned to Trouble, now nursing a rising bump on his forehead, and waved the rag in front of his face.
"What's that?" he asked, looking at it curiously. "Grub's blankey?"
Holly sniggered, and waved it a few more times in front of his face.
He caught on really quickly.
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Two hours later found them not only out of the forest, but slinking along the wall of that barely-seen fortress that they had seen from afar. If this castle was what she thought it was, Foaly was in for a very long hour of shouting done by the both of them. Hogwarts, home to the cause of a dozen commander's retirement. Dumbledore.
Even now, the dishrag's invisibility was sporadic, and every twig cracked sent both of their arms snatching for the nonexistent Neutrino 2000s at their waist. After walking through a haunted forest for nearly two hours, you could hardly blame them.
Finally, they reached a small niche in the wall, where an intricate window of stained glass provided a glance inside. Their quarry was staring right at them, his face, a bright red from the hued window, his purple eyes narrowed in speculation.
The dishrag slipped off of them, grabbed by an unseen assailant. They turned, and a slow grin spread across Holly's face. "I wasn't expecting to see you again, Minerva."
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
And where was Butler, you might ask? Not somewhere you would expect.
He was currently knee-deep in a whole lot of trouble. Not literally, of course. He had just been served up to a very angry crowd of what appeared to be paparazzi that had somehow gotten through the walls of Fowl Manor and through his door. His defenses had been lacking of late, apparently.
"How did young Mistress Fowl manage to swindle her way into the Magical World?" a truculent gnome asked, taking another picture with that confounded camera of his.
He gritted his teeth. "I. Don't. Know. Now get out of here before you become a security hazard.
The camera flashed again. "Where is her sister Juliet?"
Several of the other trailing reporters nodded in agreement, bending over their notebooks in anticipation.
Something within him snapped.
A few tentative moments passed.
The anticipation made one of the writers faint upon the expensive Oriental rug.
One of the cameras quipped a quick picture.
That was it.
With a single swipe of one of his arms, he sent half a dozen of the correspondents rocketing out of the door like pins in a bowling alley. A small human with sequined glasses stepped through just then, and her eyes widened as the incoming tsunami swept her off her feet and into the rhododendron bushes just outside the door. A few more writhing reporters, all squealing 'What about his legendary bodyguard?' flew to the top of a quickly rising pile.
The writer with the sequined glasses squirmed her way out from the bottom of the bottom of the pile, and walked up to the massive man on the doorstep. She whipped out an outrageously long quill, and set it on her notebook, where it started taking notes. "So, is Mistress Artemis here today?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Butler growled, and slammed the door.
The woman scurried off, excited. The headlines fir this ran through her head like a tornado. 'Overprotective Grandfather of Criminal Mastermind Takes Out Reporters', or 'Miss. Artemis: The Force Behind the Criminal'. Cornelius would just love these.
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Juliet was understandably happy as she walked to her new house with her new best friend in hand. Mary shared her passion of not only clothes, but of annoying young men too ("They just seem like a bunch of annoying mosquitoes, dear. You just need to swat them away enough times and then they'll fess up."). Her favorite color wasn't pink, but purple ("It matches my eyes, you see."), and she didn't seem to understand a word that she spoke about wrestling ("Fencing is a far more impressive sport, m'dear."), but they seemed to be meant for one another. A matter of fact, they decided to become roommates.
"…and they're having a sale at Boxing World for these kidskin gloves .They're supposed to have better grip then the normal leather ones, but still, 500 dollars is a little high, don't you think?"
Mary Sue stared blankly at her, flicking her gorgeous hair over her shoulder.
"Well, I told Butler that he needed a pair for when he got into fights, you know, and he said that it was demeaning to lower yourself down like that when you could just take out the opponent with a nice rifle." She shook her head at his silliness. "But it just takes all the fun out of it."
Mary Sue continued to stare at her blankly, even when they got to the front gate of the rather dilapidated house. Juliet looked past the gate, and moaned.
"I thought I specifically said that we didn't want the house next to the Shrieking Shack."
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Artemis was flat out confused. It took a lot to utterly bamboozle a child prodigy, but he was utterly and irrevocably stunned. Holly knew McGonagall, and vice versa. And she didn't hate her, either. Quite the contrary. They shared a brief embrace, and talked to one another comfortably for a long time before going their separate ways. Why Holly let him see that interchange, he had no idea, but it left his mind spinning. McGonagall was on the Fairies' side. McGonagall.
He shifted uncomfortably on the cold stone bench. He was in McGonagall's classroom right now, undergoing a most long and repetitive lecture. He had gotten very similar ones at the brief attendance at all of the various private schools he had gone to, at his mother's insistence, and he let his mind wander. Whenever she stopped speaking, he nodded in a sincere and convincing way, and kept on thinking.
Still, McGonagall. It was so…strange to have a teacher that he thought he could trust being a possible opponent. Bewildering. He might have to trust himself to Snape, after all….
"Artemis Fowl." She said, snapping him to attention.
"Yes?" he asked, cautiously.
"When do you want to take the First Year exams?" she asked, her bespectacled eyes squinting at him. Hazel eyes…
He smiled grimly, not at all hearing the previous bit to the speech. "As soon as possible."
McGonagall smiled as well. "I was expecting that. You see, I had a bit of a bet going with Dumbledore about that." She opened a drawer at the desk in which she was sitting, and leafed though the papers for several minutes before coming up with a thick sheaf of papers. Holding it out to him with a quill, she said, "Begin."
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
He finished it exactly an hour and a half later, a new record. It was surprisingly easy, and he flew through all thousand questions of it easily, as if it was the Mensa test. He passed it back to her, and waited with a small, vampiric smile.
McGonagall tore her eyes away from the engrossing Transfiguration for the Very Advanced, and eyed the test papers for a few moments. Then, with a casual flick from her wand, she set several of the quills on her desk to a pot of red ink. They flew like feathers in the wind, inked themselves, and corrected the test with an also record speed. Pity that it was hidden behind a thick stack of books. He could have stolen the correct answers, and sold them to one of those morons in the First Year.
She turned back to the massive tome for a few moments, letting the multitude of pens do their job. After several nerve-wracked moments, the quills turned the last page, and gave McGonagall a tentative poke. It pointed at something on the paper, and all the pens promptly shivered, and fell back onto the desk.
McGonagall looked at him with a small smile. "A perfect score, Artemis." She said, looking quite proud.
Some voice inside him, undistinguished and driven for some strange reason, spoke up. "What did Granger get?" he asked, the question popping out before he could stop it.
McGonagall's smile spread. "One hundred." He smiled. She could be beaten. "And one." His grin disappeared, and a scowl appeared on his face.
"How?"
MacGonagall's smirk widened. "I am not at liberty to tell you, Mr. Fowl."
Great. The first day at Hogwarts, and he was only second best. Beaten by the Belle.
!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!
Ah, yes. That chapter wasn't nearly as well written as my others, but I am too preoccupied with my other stories at the moment. This will probably not be updated for two weeks or so, since I want to get to 'Rauros' in my 'Enter the Shadow' story. I left many threads and mini-mysteries in this, which shall all be answered in good time. Do not leave reviews regarding these.
Hmm… Anything else? Oh yes; The reporters think that Artemis is a girl because 'Artemis' is primarily a girl's name. I had a few questions about that. After all, didn't Spiro take advantage of that too?
As for Mary Sue, I shall quote Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean: 'I couldn't resist, mate.'
Namärie,
*`~Nallasariel the Weeper