Disclaimer: Had I actually listened to my brother about my meaningless life, I would not claim this as I normally would as my creation. Waaaiiiiiiit… Did that just make me a hypocrite, or my brother a jerk?

A/N: Since Arty's first day is getting, well, a bit long, I'm quickening the pace. When I go back and re-write I'll probably mush a few of these chapters together, as well as add a few here and there. More on this later.

Chapter Fifteen: Portrait Love

Artemis, after ducking into the nearest bathroom to wash his mouth out, decided he would use the remaining five minutes of lunch to navigate his way to Professor McGonagall's classroom. However, it being not too far from the Great Hall, he found himself rather bored.

It was most likely the most interesting classroom in the school; it's walls were lined with either bookshelves or chalkboards, the later being covered with complex formulas. He spent a few moments pondering over their uses as he walked into the classroom, but, being the genius he was, found that they had already been explained in his Book of Intermediate Spells. Selecting his seat in the very front and pointedly drawing one chair out as an invitation, he settled down to wait.

McGonagall, perhaps coming from the Teacher's Lounge by her certain lack of involvement in the activities at lunch, came in just before student's lunch was dismissed. Her robes were again black, this time with the silvery Celtic knots on the first layer. She did not look terribly surprised to see Artemis there first, nor in the front. Without a word she took to her sizable desk tucked away in one corner.

Students began trickling in in twos and threes, most whitened by the thought of Transfiguration. It was rumored to be the hardest class of the year, and a close second to Potions for the homework load. McGonagall, according to that blonde barmaid in Hogsmeade, had failed her even though she was a perfectly good student, and a horror story told by Chance fervently swore she was a child-hater.

Artemis was looking forward to it.

It did not take long for Hermione and her two friends to come in, whispering between the three of them. Hermione pointedly ignored the pulled-put chair, and sat three seats across from him at one side of Potter. Clearly, she still suspected him.

His mouth quirked into a slight grin as he pulled out The Calling and parchment. The female mind would ever be mystery.

Exactly on time McGonagall stood, eyeing the class distaste. "Today we shall be reviewing what has been lost over the summer." she said primly, folding her hands before her. "You are to transfigure these beetles," she waved toward one of the empty tables, where a tank filled with the squirming insects sat, "into buttons. You may begin."

The class was considerably less enthusiastic to get their beetles then their earmuffs before, which Artemis noted with relief. Being somewhat against touching insects, Artemis levitated his to his seat and stared at it for several minutes before easily transfiguring it to a shiny black button. More then a little bored, he went up to get another one.

The boredom was quickly alleviated, however, when the Weasely-boy filled the room with smoke when he tried to transfigure his beetle. Artemis muttered a quick cantrip to dispel the foul-smelling smog and watched the ensuing havoc with amusement.

Ronald, or 'Ron' as Potter continued to call him, was flailing about, barely seen through the rapidly thickening smoke. One arm brushed Hermione's large pile of buttons, sending them flying across the room as Hermione gave an outraged yelp. His broken wand, still smoking, stabbed Harry in the forehead, and one elbow came down to smash the fleeing beetle in a slight crunch.

Smiling slightly, Artemis resumed making buttons. He almost pitied Hermione for having such an oaf for a friend. Almost.

The class ended on a triumphant note. Artemis, after counting up his buttons, found he had 78; Hermione had 69. After exchanging smirks/frowns, Artemis continued on to History of Magic.

It was not far from Transfiguration, and due to Artemis' efficiency even whilst walking he beat the majority of the Ravenclaw class and all of the Slytherin class. More then a little bored, he slid into his customary seat in the front.

The classroom was not unlike McGonagall's in the fact that it had many books lining it, although it was obvious it had not been properly taken care of. The ceiling had cracks running through the whitewash, and paint chips littered the bottoms of the walls, worn pine wood showing where they had come from. No complex transfiguration spells were on the dust-covered boards, or, indeed, anything; clearly, he was depending on the students to take notes on his lecture for the day.

Artemis pulled out The Calling again and began to read, anticipating that it would be a long wait. Through the seven days he had been here he had only been able to work his way through thirty or so pages, which was well below Artemis' normal reading standards. However, excuses had to be made for Artemis, since The Calling was hardly a normal book.

The Calling had thus only gone through much of the history behind the 'Fey' races as Salazar called it, but it had proved invaluable. Most history and even common folklore had been sanitized for the modern audience, leaving out some details that would undoubtedly upset most people, in the Muggle world. Sprout's lecture on when Artemis was about to go into the subject of how Mandrake could be combined with Unicorn blood for a potion that would help one resist most spells only confirmed it was true for the magical world. People would rather forget the bloodier and more embarrassing facts from the past.

But not Artemis. He had plans for some of the things already outlined in The Calling. Plans that involved Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest, among other things.

He was interrupted from his devious thoughts by the scrape of chair being pulled out. Startled, he saw the card players, Chance, Spader and Jack, slid into the seats to his left.

Chance saw his faintly befuddled expression and grinned. "We figured you'd get a little bored all by your lone self, 'specially since it's History." Jack nodded in agreement.

Artemis kept his face expressionless as he continued to read. "And what made you think I would be bored?"

"Every person in his right mind would be bored in History!" Jack replied, sounding surprised.

"I wouldn't be so sure of his sanity." Spader cut in. "After all, he did only ask for Beans when he could have had anything from Granger."

Jack, the one furthest from Artemis, interrupted before Spader could continue. "Awe, Spader! Stop being so bitter! You got over it when I put hearts all over your robes last year!"

Spader wheeled around, glaring at Jack with intense brown eyes. "That was you?!"

In the fight that ensued between the pair, Artemis scooted down a few more chairs. Best seat in the class or not, he was not going to let himself or any of his belongings get dirty.

How did those oafs get into Ravenclaw? Artemis wondered, flipping through The Calling for where he had last left off. They have no brains.

The arrival of the Professor momentarily cut off that line of thought.

Professor Binns was a ghost, as many of Hogwart's residents happened to be, although he had one of the duller pasts. By all accounts he had died one night whilst sleeping in the Teacher's Lounge and the next morning just got up again to teach. Although Artemis knew of how inspiring loyalty could be—Butler would die for him—he would be hard=-pressed to find out anything inspiring about him.

"Today, class, we shall be going over the affect the Goblin Rebellion had on the relationship between Goblins and Muggles. In 1732, the Goblin I.B. Halfheart found that…"

Artemis found himself yawning, but quickly shut his mouth. Binns had a way of making something that would have normally interesting Artemis into a subject of unbearable boredom. Perhaps it was his nasal, droning voice and the flat emotionless way he spoke, or maybe the plain appearance that lacked both a sense of style and cleanliness, but he was thoroughly boring.

Letting his mind wander, Artemis quickly succumbed to his spinning thoughts and plots for the future.

When class was finally dismissed, it took several moments for the class to react, being so firmly entrenched in daydreams. Artemis was among the first to realize the certain absence of the hated voice, and the sound of him tripping ungracefully over Malfoy's outstretched foot helped shake the rest.

Artemis rubbed his eyes, continuing his way down the corridor. It had been a long day, one that he was eager to put an end to. The only class he had even a mild interest in, Transfiguration, had turned out to be a wild disappointment; indeed, the one in which he learned the most was Defense Against Dark Arts, and most of that did not involve the lesson.

Dumbledore, Artemis thought decisively, is a student hater. His thoughts were well-grounded; Snape cared more for exacting petty revenge on students then actually teaching, Lockhart was a git and nothing more, Sprout just used them a free labor, McGonagall undoubtedly had more thoughts on her political status as a bridge, and Binns was a boring ghost whose class held none in thrall. In short, Dumbledore did not have the student's best interests in mind when he hired them.

Truth be told, Artemis was entertaining thoughts of dropping out, instead turning to establishing himself in the Wizarding world. If he started early, he would have more time to plot and steal then if he waited until seven years he was up. It was true many of the things he had in mind could be directed from Hogwarts, or even dealt by himself, but all plots are best carried out when one can devote all their thoughts to it, not just the section not racing to get the homework done.

However, culture was something he could learn only when wandering in the subject's midst, and he would need to understand their culture if he was going to plot much. He was still pitifully lacking in knowledge when it came to the Wizarding world, something that would have to remedied. And what better place then Hogwarts?

At least until third year. Artemis told himself, waving away mental images of him in a straight jacket. After that, I'm free.

Quickening his step at thoughts of greener fields, he soon made his way to the portrait of Lenore.

What met his eyes was a curious sight; Lenore was the same, black haired lady beneath a witch hazel tree, and Ebon, the Raven, was perched on her shoulder, completely unchanged. Before Lenore, back towards Artemis, was a gray-clothed man, obviously wealthy by the rich velvets and silks he draped himself in. His hair was dark brown, long and curly as was the fashion in the Victorian Age.

Lenore's blue eyes widened in shock when she saw him coming, and she gave the man before her a hard kick in the shins. He doubled over, hopping like a frog as he clutched his injured leg. Before he left the elaborate gilt picture frame Artemis caught a glimpse of pained gray eyes and an extremely pale face, both extremely handsome.

Artemis stepped up to the portrait, eyeing Lenore dubiously. "And who was that?" he inquired blandly.

Lenore made a grimace of distaste. "Stupid Dorian again. He just won't give up. Password?"

Artemis' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Dorian? As in Dorian Grey?"

"That's the one." Lenore replied, inspecting a scuff mark on her black dress shoes, whish just peeped out form the hem of her billowing black robes. "Password?"

Artemis shook his head, deciding that he would puzzle this out later. "Mistletoe."

The portrait opened, revealing the low tunnel that would take him to the Common Room. Ducking his head to make it past the low entryway, he made his way in.

Once he realized that Cho and her friends had beaten him—he had wanted to plot before the fireplace in a particularly comfortable chair he had been eyeing—he walked up the long spiral staircase to the second-years' room. By the silence issuing from the door Artemis deemed it empty of the card players, and entered.

Immediately sat himself down in front of his chest, muttering the spell that would open it. The bronze clasp on it glowed for a moment, and then clicked open.

After rummaging around in its contents for several minutes Artemis pulled the failed prototype from the chest's depths, and placed it on his plush blue bedspread. Replacing several of the objects he had taken out from the chest quickly, he then reactivated the elaborate locking charm and closed the curtains around his bed.

Just in time; the sound of a door opening sounded, joined by the incessant chattering of the three card players. Apparently not noticing the drawn curtains around Artemis' bed, they made their way to the back of the dormitory to most likely play more card games.

Perfect. He thought. Their noise would cover whatever sound his tinkering would cause, and no one in their right mind would come up here and search with them around.

The smile was eased off his face as he settled down for the long night ahead. After all, how else was he going to run his criminal empire?

PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING:

Well, when I look back at some of my earlier chapters bile rises ion my throat for the OOC-ness I put the characters through, as well as an abrupt change of style. Also, there are many of inconsistencies and wrong spells, as Techy El Nerd commented. Right now I'm going through the chapters and editing them, but a few I want to completely re-do, as well as fill in a few gaps by adding chapters and/or mushing chapters together.

I would like suggestions on which areas I should re-do, and some holes I should fill. What I have thus far are plans to re-write chapters one through four, and I'm adding a classic Colfer-style introduction and more interludes for Holly and Trouble to clarify what they're doing. If there's something else, please tell me. It's a week-and-a-half-long car ride out to Prince Rupert on the Pacific Coast, so I shall obviously have a lot of time to write.

Please e-mail your suggestions rather then place them in your reviews, although if you are unfortunate enough as to not have an e-mail address (Or lazy enough as to not write an e-mail), send them in via review.

Merci beaucoup.

Namárië,

Nallasariel the Weeper

P.S. The next chapter is not going to deal with Artemis, just as a warning. It's going to be catching up on various minor characters, since I have been abandoning them for so long.