Disclaimer: Should I be writing something here? Yes. Now go away.

A/N: This is my last chapter for a long time. As in several months long. I hope I shall answer many questions in this chapter, and leave many more. I beg thee readers for critiques, remarking on things other then wrong spells and various OOC anomalies (I'm aware of them, and am taking care of them in my revisions), since when I get back I shall be typing up the entirely rewritten stuff I have and posting it.

Chapter Seventeen: Alliances

Hermione frowned, watching Trouble's retreating back. So much had been explained this long night, but so much left unanswered.

Much of the mystery behind Artemis' past had been explained—right down to the funny green book he had been carrying around, The Calling. He was every bit as evil as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and certainly not to be trusted.

She clutched her head with her hands. She had hoped when the rumors of Fowl coming to the school that she might have someone to talk to about intellectual matters, something she could only do in a limited matter with McGonagall. It was a funny yearning, just to be able to connect with someone like that. She didn't even really need to be friends with him.

But he couldn't be trusted. Trouble had told her that. The leprechauns—no, the LEPrecons—were trying to bring him back to their city underground to mind-wipe him. He had said something about this being a new battleground, so the fact they had lost last time would not make them be breaking any rules.

In all truth, Hermione had not been able to absorb everything Trouble had told her—the Book, their sundering from both Muggle and Wizarding kind, the Fairies' new existence beneath the crust of the world, their own brand of magic—but much of it still did not add up. Why did they further sunder themselves from Wizards? They had once lived and cooperated with each other much in the way of they had with the Muggles, perhaps even closer. What had driven them apart?

She shook her head again, and looked around her. Such time for thinking shall be later. For now, she had better make the best of her location.

The Portrait Room, as she called it, had been one of her most fortunate discoveries. After Fred and George Weasley had heard her complaining about the noise in the Common Room being too great to study, they had told her of the passage. It had an evasive spell on it that did not let anyone but those who knew it was there see it, and only those that knew the password, 'Penelope', through.

They had told her it was the Prefect's corridor, where they would store things and hold their own private councils with one another. The Portrait Room had been the first she had explored in full, and was used to store the portraits and tapestries not in use, one of the Prefects' jobs being to switch the portraits every so often.

"Who was that House Elf that came in, young lady?" a portrait of an imposing wizard asked from above her head. "And was all that nonsense about? Had he gone loony?"

"No, Adams," Hermione said wearily, sinking deeper into the chair she had dragged in from the Common Room, "he's a friend. Called himself a LEPrecon agent or something." Suddenly, she asked, "Would you know anything about them? They separated from us around you time, didn't they? Early thirteenth century?"

The tall wizard scratched his balding head, peering across to look a portrait of an elderly old woman. "No, never heard of them. Have you, Estella?"

She shook her head, straightening her wide carnation-pink skirts. "'fraid not, m'dear. Never heard a bit 'bout this. I had a lovely House Elf though, with ears just like that Trouble fellow. You know, not all batty like these modern ones running about."

Several of the other portraits that had been painted around that time nodded in agreement, muttering vaguely about not hearing a thing about LEPrecons or anything else.

Hermione sighed openly, and picked herself out of her chair. "I suppose not. If he's lying, I'll know soon." She yawned, and looked up at the smiling portraits. "I'm coming by tomorrow around six-ish to study. Can you be awake by then?"

Almost everyone nodded, and returned to talking amongst themselves. Hermione yawned again, and staggered her way out of the room. Acting was always something to practice. Such a useful skill.

Once the heavy oak door was shut, she immediately pressed her ear to the keyhole, listening for the conversation sure to follow.

Sure enough, her friend Adams spoke first. "Is she gone?"

The kindly voice of the old lady, Estella, lost all signs that she was, in fact, of the sweet grandmother type. "Never again, Roland. I can't lie to her again. She's such a sweet, keeping us company like that. We shouldn't have to do this."

"Would you rather have us be on Dumbledore's bad side?" a bold voice cried, identifying the speaker as the conservative Evan. "We're not to speak of the Fairies, just like we're not supposed to speak of a thousand other things."

Dumbledore? Putting a ban on mention of Fairies? No, it couldn't be…

"Always butting into our business, he was." A cross young witch answered. Hermione knew her as Lobelia, who never failed to find room to gossip. "Heamaster or no, he had no right to tell us not to talk to the students about such matters!"

Hermione could almost feel the tension growing on the other side of the wall. Growing more excited, she pressed even harder against the door, trying to make out the individual arguments of the portraits as all-out pandemonium broke out.

"Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster we've ever had! How could you even think of defying him?!"

"…and what of Hermione? If she's getting embroiled in this mess too, those friends she keeps talking about are going to get mixed up in all of this. Potter worst of all."

"She knows. Short of an Obliviate, how are we supposed to get her out of this? We've been sundered long enough; time to rejoin!"

"They're entirely different! You cannot possibly hope to just force two entirely different cultures together like that! It would be a disaster! Best to leave well enough alone."

"'Well enough' is about to end. Between that rotten Fowl chap here with that book and Fairies snooping around Hogwarts without permission, it will be no time at all before the Ministry gets involved!"

Hermione did not budge from her position by the door until the stars had fled from the sky.

"It's a pity, Fowl, that you weren't born Pure."

Artemis opened his eyes, finding himself standing in the middle of a grassy savanna, the same one he had seen in his previous dream.

He blinked, and a tall man clothed in flowing black robes appeared. His skin was white, the sort not associated with lack of sunlight but with true death. Whatever facial features he had were otherwise hidden by a deep cowl.

"Who are you?" Artemis asked coldly, remaining as calm as he could. He did not like dreams. He did not have control over the situation.

"Salazar Slytherin." The man answered, and a silver-clasped green book appeared in his hand. "I trust you'll recognize this?"

Artemis nodded. "The Calling."

"But do you understand its purpose?" The man's voice was only a touch over cold, sounding faintly amused.

"To aid in the binding of magical creatures," Artemis answered, "to teach the art of using them, twisting them to your advantage."

The man laughed, but it quickly subsided to a less amused tone. "You've read little of it, Mister Fowl, and how naïve you are! I did not write the book to aid anyone but me."

Artemis cocked an eyebrow. "Then why was it published?"

He looked confused for a moment, and then laughed again coldly. "Artemis, you foolish boy! Maybe in your little Muggle world, every book that is bound had been published. There was only one of these, which I made for none but those of my line." He sneered. "You, despite a streak of deviousness and intelligence, are hardly of my line. A Dark Wizard's, perhaps, but certainly not my own kin except by marriage."

Artemis frowned, eyes glazing over as his brain whirled with thoughts. After several minutes he spoke again. "I deserved that," he conceded, "but it matters not who one is related to unless it involves money and power." Then it matters a lot, he thought to himself.

The man seemed thrown off by this, but then snapped his fingers, opening the already levitating book. Artemis, even with his excellent vision, had to squint to make out the intricately twined designs around the edges, let alone make out the actual details.

"Can't read it?" the man said mockingly, snapping his fingers again. Instead of bring the book closer to him, which was what Artemis expected, it made it soar into Salazar's hand. He pocketed it, and continued. "Finish it, and you'll might be worthy of finding the gold at the end of the rainbow." The man threw back his hood, revealing intense black eyes and a coldly calculating face not unlike Artemis' in its emotionless stance. "Not that you already haven't."

Artemis found himself alone on the vast expanse of golden grass, watching the cornflower sky with unseeing eyes. Barely a wizard for a week. He couldn't wait until he could get out of Hogwarts.

When Artemis awoke, it was not yet even dawn. Far from it.

Why was he having these dreams? It obviously implied one of two things; insanity, or perhaps a drop of seer blood. Since insanity was obviously out of the question, it left only the other. Yet another reason to find his family's roots.

He checked the moon outside his window, recalling his brief study of selenology Barely past two. He really must be getting some sleep.

Yet…

He sat down on the broad windowsill, letting his eyes rake the Hogwarts Grounds below. Unexpectantly, he found himself thinking of Hermione. Could she be trusted, or turned from her ever-righteous path? She was very intelligent, he knew, and perhaps they would be a good pair for criminal activities. Although she did not have the grasp on Wizarding culture he so needed for his formulating schemes, she had more of it understood then he. Besides, he had always wanted someone to talk to about intellectual matters. Juliet hardly fulfilled that need.

If only she wasn't so righteous. Artemis mused, eyes tracing the path the three-quarters moon would take. She reacted poorly enough when I stated I wished to be in Slytherin. But to actually ask her for help in my schemes…?

"No." he whispered, closing his eyes, "I'd rather be alone."

As always. His mind echoed, but his thoughts were turned to a different path when he opened his eyes again to see a dark figure scurrying across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest. It was disproportionate to the Gamekeeper's hut, much more then could be explained about his certain size, and by tracing its path backwards he could see it came from…

"Gryffindor Tower." He breathed, eyes widening ever so slightly. "Of course." Pressing his face against the glass, he could just see the bare outline of a door at the Tower's base, not entirely closed. Even as he watched the dark figure—either Holly or Trouble, depending on who had dared to try and find him again—turned and scurried back towards the door. It closed it, and, after looking back towards one of the higher levels of the tower, began running back towards the Forest.

Artemis reached towards his wand leaning up against his bed and opened the window. He pointed the wand at the silhouette and, keeping his hand steady, murmured, "Amplifica".

A circle drew itself in front of him, showing an enlarged version of the figure. He—definitely a he—looked battered, but wore an excited expression on his face and appeared to be muttering under his breath.

Artemis was about to cast the spell that would reveal what he was saying when the figure stopped suddenly, rearing up and looking around him. His gaze fixed itself on Artemis' position, and his eyes narrowed.

He picked up a sharp stick from the ground and stabbed himself with it until there was some darkish blood oozing from his upper arm. His brow furrowed with concentration and frustration, but it still took too long then must have been normal for a solitary blue spark to work its way into the cut and healing it.

The image fizzled for a few moments, and dissipated into a spray of white sparks. Artemis closed his eyes against the light, and when he opened them again the silhouette was gone. Apparently Fairy magic interfered with targeted Wizarding magic, much in the same way Hogwarts interfered with 'Muggle' technology. Very interesting indeed.

On the other side of the windowsill someone groaned, and Artemis reflexively reached for his wand. When Chance popped his red-gold head out from behind the curtains, Artemis relaxed. Chance would not understand what had just happened even if he had seen it.

"What's the bright light for?" Chance muttered sleepily, eyelids heavy with weariness.

Artemis managed to fake a reassuring smile. "Nothing," he lied easily, slipping back into his own bed and standing his wand against one carved bed post, "I just had to quiet Spencer's snores."

Chance managed to look more confused then normal. "Whaa? Y'mean Spader? He doesn't snore."

"He just did." Artemis pointed out, and closed his curtains, stopping the conversation cold.

Within a few minutes Chance's breathing deepened and became regular. Artemis', however, did not. He simply had too much to think about. You couldn't exactly blame him.

Last bit I'm giving you guys for a long time. Hope you're happy, because in three chapters Artemis won't be. Quite the contrary.

My brother who simply loves insulting this sounds like Artemis is in love. Please do not take it so. Those who have asked have gotten a more complex answer regarding that.

Ha. I'm nice and cynical today. Don't mind me. In any case, the next chapter shall probably be up on the 25th of August. Sorry guys, but if I didn't see the mountains again, I would simply die.

"Onen i-coi Ered, ú-chebin estel anim". Variation on Gilraen's despairing linnod, 'I have given my life to the mountains, I have kept no hope for myself'.

Namárië and merci beaucoup,

Nallasariel the Weeper

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna míriel,

o menel aglar elenath...