Disclaimer: Gimme a break.
Chapter Twenty-five: Double Trouble (Corny title. Deal with it.)
Holly could not recall having more of a need for a hot-shot in her (short) life. It helped that those two nasty blows to the head had drained all of her magic and then some.
Yes, she recalled those two blows last night. Artemis would pay for those, make no mistake. Pay for them in more then just gold.
Holly had, more or less, resigned her vengeance for later. It didn't matter to her that it had always been later; a day later, a year later, as it always had been thought of since that near-fatal meeting that had started it all.
The thing that had perhaps most annoyed her was that Artemis managed to take her Book.
She had no idea why it hadn't exploded, rendering Artemis most delightfully unconscious and in great pain. She wasn't very savvy when it came to magic, or even technology—that was the region for Foaly and all those morons.
Yet, somehow, Holly was beginning to regret not paying attention to the Forms of Magick class at the Academy. She might have been able to figure out those wands.
Grumbling to herself, Holly sat down on a convenient log, the ever-present wind of Faerie's Gambit little more than a murmur through her aphroed hair. Trouble should be coming along shortly with Juliet. Perhaps, if he pulled it off, they could use her as leverage against Artemis…
That won't work! she thought to herself, brow furrowing in frustration. Artemis couldn't care less about someone else.
That was true, in part. Artemis was developing something akin to hate towards the more frivolous of the Butler siblings, and her infrequent replies to his letters only increased this. Not that Holly knew that. All she knew was that Artemis was something that wasn't going to leave her mind anytime soon.
She picked herself up from the log again, pacing around the circle of half-rotted stumps that they had gathered in case they someday had need of company. Trouble would be coming back soon, true. The only reason why they hadn't gone out together to get each target was that one would be alerted if the other went missing, and probably do something about it. Either case would be bad.
Then why, despite all her attempts not to underestimate Artemis Fowl, was she coming up with bruises each time?
Grumbling to herself, Holly settled down to wait for Trouble.
Juliet sat down on her bed, brushing her hair lazily. She liked being a barmaid. For some strange reason, it gave her great pleasure to work in an establishment that didn't care is she was underage and somewhat evasive about her past. Spiked butterbeer tends to have that effect on people.
Still smiling, she let her tense back sink into the pillows. She felt very… grown-up, she supposed. Sure, she had to do several childish things to get Mary to help her repaint her room, especially after she had stolen her contacts and bent them all out of shape, but it was nice to have a job. Especially ones as easy as being a barmaid.
Juliet seemed, quite literally, perfect for the job. Madame Ko drummed near-photographic memory into her cadets, along with fast reflexes that proved so invaluable, either with sneaky fingers being where they weren't supposed to or cascading rains of delicate glass goblets (The Three Broomsticks occasionally played host to Hogsmeade weddings). She had a quick, open smile that easily could turn into a thousand-megawatt glare and ready charm. Not to mention a fine figure for a teenager.
She had even gotten a raise. She didn't know what Wizarding standards were for wages, but two Galleons an hour (plus tips) seemed like a handsome sum when one's working ten hours.
"Juliet?" Mary-Sue asked from her adjacent bedroom, her head poking out from around the edge of her door. The room seemed to shimmer from the blood-thumping cadence of Witches Gone Wild ('The Weird Sisters'). "Can you help me braid my hair?
Juliet quirked her head, confused, then brought herself off her bed again. Mary usually did her hair herself, preferring complex weaves that were well beyond Juliet's repertoire of the French, spider and herringbone. Ah well.
Fast reflexes didn't help her much here; before she was even beyond the border of green carpeting a blow to her stomach doubled her over, and two quick successive ones behind each knee made her fold like a broken accordion.
She was in the process of getting up—Ko anticipated situations like this in her training—when something kicked her hard and fast in the head. Problem was, that foot didn't anticipate the sheer durability of Mud Maid skulls. They were, after all, a distant relative of the pachycephalosaurs.
Juliet groaned, but steeled her screaming muscles to snag the minute green foot that came swinging in for Round Two. Her nails, fake as they were, gripped the frictionless surface of the jumpsuit and yanked the accompanying body onto the floor.
"Take that!" Mary-Sue cried from her room, holding her fencing saber aloft. Juliet recognized that the tip was gleaming; she had taken off the safety cap.
"No!" Juliet cried from the floor, but she was unable to get up in time; the saber slashed down towards the figurine, sliding easily through his green outfit and out the other side into the plush violet carpet.
The younger Butler flipped her body up into standing position, shoving Mary onto her bed. The saber clattered to the ground.
"What the hell was that for?" Mary-Sue demanded, picking herself up from the indigo duvet. Her arms, already bedecked in a gauzy violet night robe, were crossed and her eyebrows raised in what she obviously thought to be a speculative manner.
Juliet ignored her, running through her mental list of What To Do. The… thing was incapacitated for the moment, using its magic sparks to stop the bleeding. At least, she thought that was what it was doing…
She kneeled down on the floor besides the moaning green man, ignoring Mary's continued stream of protests and demands. Better safe than sorry. The man's eyes were shut again with a quick knock to the head.
Juliet realized her mistake quickly; Step Three was to gather information from the would-be kidnapper/assassin.
Then she realized she skipped Two.
She swore loudly, directing Mary-Sue to keep the LEP agent from moving over her loud objections. Without looking back, she checked the perimeter in a most Butler-like fashion. The only real difference was that she was protecting a Principle that would rather be swept from her feet by a dashing young outlaw then stab it enough times that would be able to swear vengeance.
Artemis looked at Dumbledore's office, eyes tracing the spinning objects with mild curiosity. McGonagall had seemed terribly relieved when he was found walking towards the Great Hall for breakfast. She hadn't even stolen the oh-so-obvious Book from around his neck.
Still, she just had to bring him to Dumbledore before he had eaten. Starvation tended to dull his thoughts, if only a little.
Dumbledore wasn't even here yet, probably drinking his Pumpkin Juice with French toast and orange marmalade. He was mildly surprised that the Almighty Headmaster didn't get the food delivered to his office, although he had already analyzed this fully by the time that he saw the Sorting Hat.
Of course, the first thing that ran through his head was that Dumbledore had placed it front-and-center on purpose, just so he would have an excuse to lecture curious students. He was probably right, but curiosity could be an awful thing when the mind decided that no, it didn't want to analyze the odd spinning spheres on the desk, but the faded Hat instead.
He glanced at the door, then breathed a charm towards it that would alert him to activity below. The Hat shall be questioned.
When the Hat was over his ears, it immediately sank over his eyes, causing him to lift up his hands to lift it again.
None of that, none of that now.
Artemis blinked at the darkness, sneezing abruptly at the dust. The Hat was thinking to him. Of course. What else would it do, yodel?
I can do that, when the occasion arises. Can actually talk too. This is just much easier. And by the way; Dumbledore takes his time with breakfast. He shall not be coming up here for another fifteen minutes.
That predictable?
Yes. The older, the more so.
Artemis grinned suddenly at the darkness. Communication was only hampered by how fast he thought here.
How often do you speak to students? he asked.
Quite often. Dumbledore likes the students to think for themselves occasionally, and question authority. Yes, even when it is his. Almost every student that has come through Hogwarts sneaks me on again.
Artemis paused, letting the Hat read his thoughts.
Slytherin, eh? And you want to know why you aren't in it? Complicated answer, Fowl.
I don't care. We have time.
True, true. Well, there is no question you wouldn't go into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.
Artemis nodded inwardly. Obviously.
That leaves Slytherin and Ravenclaw. To be blunt, you are very ambitious. On the other hand, you are very intelligent, probably the most so since Salazar himself slipped me over his head.
Then why am I in Ravenclaw? Everyone in the House is only… book-smart
Ravenclaw is more than 'book-smart' people, Fowl. You just don't get genii very often in the Wizarding world. We tend to leave that for Muggles or Fairies.
Artemis' heart skipped a beat. You know about them?
He could have sworn he heard the Hat's laughter in his thoughts. Of course. Anyone who reads enough knows about them, and Dumbledore makes sure his employees are fully aware of their existence, if not necessarily their political status.
Which is?
Ministry is very anti-Fairies, as you probably already know. They even dislike ones that sundered from them thousands of years before they went underground. The Lorelei, for example, had been shot and imprisoned by Ministry officials.
I thought it was an illusion, just a particularly dangerous rock on the Rhine
Of course it is. She is an illusion in and of herself. That's what makes her so dangerous. It was a pity, though; Teleri was the last of her kind.
Artemis cleared his thoughts, trying to direct his mind towards something more constructive. Something that had been lurking in the back of his mind popped up before he could bring it back down.
Ah, your father. It doesn't hurt to have a few weaknesses. Makes you human, you know. Don't be so ashamed of it.
Is he… alive?
You could say that. The Ministry has been thinking about launching a rescue operation themselves, as he is the parent of a wizard.
Artemis breathed a sigh of relief, which caught in his throat. The Ministry… why would it help me?
Don't know. I'm not very good at politics. On Dumbledore's desk there is a letter that he was planning on giving you. It'll alert you to the possibility of your father being rescued.
Artemis hesitated.
Just lift the brim, but don't take this off. I like to see what's running through your mind. It's very fascinating.
He took the Hat of anyways. He didn't like the idea of anyone knowing what he would be planning, soloistic attitude or no.
I said; don't take me o—
The Hat slipped off easily, and was placed back on the shelf. It opened its brim for a moment, then was still.
Artemis mentally cursed himself as he crossed the room again. He shouldn't have let that go so far. It was fascinating, yes, and most certainly informative, but the Hat would undoubtedly tell Dumbledore of the whole exchange, and the many other thoughts that went unanswered. Did he really want the Headmaster to know that he was being poisoned?
He was there. For a few moments, he just stood there, slowing his suddenly hoarse breathing. The letter was there, true to the Hat's word. Right on top, even, and addressed to Artemis Fowl the Second.
Steeling himself for the worst, he picked up the letter, and began to read.
"Artemis Fowl the Second
The Forbidden Forest
He allowed himself a nervous smile. It was written when Holly had been dragging him through the woods.
"Your father, Artemis Fowl the First, has been declared dead by Muggle authorities, but we would like to inform you otherwise. He is alive, if not well, and being held hostage by the Russian Mafiya."
"I knew it," he whispered to himself, looking up at the Hat in triumph.
Except something was between him and the Hat. It was Dumbledore.
Didn't get anywhere, really, with that chapter. Oh well.
Ch. 5 is still in the process of getting edited.
Obviously, the letter is a badly made To Be Continued (Which it shall be next week Saturday)
Sorry I had to change my policy regarding anonymous reviews. Some people decided it would be fun to get together and flame some of my tLotR workd because I gave a rather harsh critique. I got the reviews erased, as they did not pertain to the collection of poems at all (They didn't even know what The SiIlmarillion or Unfinished Tales was, since they had no idea that Galadriel might have ever been a nasty, ambitious kimosabe). Sorry. You can still email me if you don't have an account, though.
I'm done.
Namárië,
Nallasariel the Weeper