Black Alice – Thank you very much, and Artemis is special. He does have the highest IQ in Europe, and about a hundred other achievements I'm too lazy to name.

MuggleBuddy – (gives a conciliatory cookie) Thanks.

Kiharu-sama – If you mean Yu Yu Hakusho, that's OK. Same goes for many people.

Clutchy – Nope, I'm not Japanese, though I'd love to be, because then I could read all the comics the moment they came out, and not have to wait for the Tokyopop translation. Yuki's the one that turns into a mouse. Haru's the bipolar cow. Akito is the head of the family, and the only difference between him and Artemis is that Akito gets sick more frequently and is more than a bit sadistic…

(I replay the sequence of events in my mind. Let's see, Blaise and Neville meet our dear protagonist, Artemis gets sorted, and gets his new wand – No, not that wand, get your minds out of the gutter.)

I'm just going to compress the rest of the summer into one chapter. After all, Artemis was cooped up till the end of the holidays, and Blaise is still sick with some allergic reaction (Healer Snape's medicine made everyone a bit sicker). Not to mention that nobody's quite figured out how to turn Neville back to his original colour.

Chapter Four: Theodore, Dark and Light

For the next ten minutes, Artemis was the subject of endless ribbing by Juliet about Blaise, 'the girlfriend' as Juliet dubbed her. After Artemis threatened to dock the blonde's pay for six months, Butler put in his two cents' worth.

"Did they actually tell you what disease you're down with?"

Artemis kneaded his forehead. "To tell you the truth, no. The medicine administered by the Healer rendered everyone too nauseous to speak."

"It's probably like a serious fever or something," Angeline said comfortingly. "It might have to get worse in order to get better."

"Indeed," said Artemis, still grumpy.

"Anyway," Angeline said, changing the subject, "since you're going to be stuck in here so long, I thought you might like another friend. I see you've already made two, but it's a bit late now, isn't it?"

"We Slytherins don't have friends," Blaise interjected. "We have allies."

Juliet raised her eyebrows. "Really? And it says that…where?"

Blaise snorted. "It's practically set in stone by my royal idiot of a third cousin and the ruler of Slytherin house, Draco Malfoy."

"Here you go, Arty!" Angeline said, oblivious to the conversation. Reaching downwards, some point behind Butler's ankles, she lifted and placed on the bed a slightly squirming bundle of black.

Artemis eyed it warily. Truth be told, he wasn't great with animals. All Fowls and Butlers present remembered all too clearly the violent little rabbit (named Tchaikovsky) that had been a birthday present for Artemis on his ninth birthday. The minute Artemis had opened the cage; it had shot out like a hyperactive cheetah on caffeine and taken an immediate dislike to Artemis. The dislike swiftly manifested itself in a vicious and bloody attack.

The black bundle uncoiled itself and stretched, revealing itself to be a black cat. Aside from its tail being a little bushier than most dogs', the cat had no remarkable features apart from its bright golden eyes. It scrutinized Artemis closely; head tilted to one side, before it leapt into his lap and curled up, purring.

"Aw," Angeline crooned. "He likes you. What are you going to name him?"

Artemis thought for a moment. What names had he gone through? Tchaikovsky the rabbit. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart the West Highland terrier (bit Butler's uncle and was killed by said major). Claude Monet the hamster that had the misfortune to scurry along a path beneath Butler's giant foot. Leonardo da Vinci, a chinchilla that had fallen into the massive grand piano while Artemis was playing a self-composed tune. All of them had died within a year.

"Machiavelli," he decided.

Neville coughed at the choice of name, but wisely chose to keep quiet.

"Professor Dumbledore requested I deliver your schoolbooks and equipment," Butler informed his charge, piling the said schoolbooks on Artemis' bedside table. "I took the liberty of purchasing a few extra books the shopkeeper recommended," the manservant said in an undertone. "Higher-level spells, I believe, for those much older and supposedly more intelligent than you. I've got a broom for you – the Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Latest edition."

"Good of you, old friend," Artemis replied, picking up Moste Potente Potions and thumbing through it.

"Oh, Artemis, do you think you could teach me how to brew a love potion?" Juliet inquired hopefully.

"Oh, don't say that," Neville shuddered. "Just imagine a lot of disturbed, testosterone-filled fan-boys stalking you."

"Sounds lovely!"

The rest of the summer wrapped itself up quickly. Neville's skin and teeth were back to normal, although his eyes changed colour more than once. Blaise was eventually moved to a public ward after ten days. Artemis was actually a bit sad to see her go. It was, although he certainly wasn't going to be admitting it to anyone, nice to have someone on the same wavelength as him – as far as cunning and evil went, that is. Healer Snape grew more vindictive with each passing day, if that was actually possible.

Unfortunately for Artemis, he discovered just what he'd been diagnosed with sometime before Blaise left. Nobody had put a name to it yet, but it seemed to be an unusual hybrid of asthma and diarrhea. Artemis took Blood-Replenishing Potions every day, and, by the end of the holidays, had gotten rid of the diarrhea – which, he suspected, was caused by the Healer's foul medicine.

Finally, on September 1st, Artemis and the Butlers, plus Angeline, ended up in King's Cross with Artemis clutching a Muggle inhaler and scowling at everyone who stopped to stare at the strange group. Machiavelli, perched proudly on his shoulder, glared at the said passer-bys in mimicry of his owner. Despite Artemis' dislike of animals, he was starting to enjoy the feline's company. Machiavelli seemed to be the cat version of Artemis – only with claws.

"Right," Angeline said, looking at Artemis' ticket. "It says here you're to go to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"Really," Artemis muttered, taking a couple of puffs from the inhaler. He leaned against the barrier unconcernedly. Suddenly, he felt something depart his shoulder. "Machiavelli?" The cat was hissing and clawing at what appeared to be thin air – except that the thin air was squealing. Artemis stared. "What –?"

"Gerroff me!" the thing squealed. There was a resounding crack and Machiavelli was thrown backwards into his owner, yowling. The effect of this was that Artemis stumbled backwards and fell through the barrier, landing on his back with a ruffled cat on his stomach. The guard at the gates ran forward to help him up (which Artemis declined, picking himself off the floor instead, careful not to spook Machiavelli), and not a moment too soon, as his luggage was thrown in after him. "Muggles can't enter the platform," the guard explained, going back to his duties.

"Egoverto!" Artemis intoned softly, pointing his wand at his new trunk. The trunk immediately floated a few inches off the ground; when Artemis moved, it moved too, following him around. A useful little charm out of Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts: the Third Edition.

Artemis boarded the train and walked along the corridor, peering into every compartment for a familiar face. There was a blonde boy who sneered at him as he passed (Artemis didn't actually think it was possible to heap that much hair gel on one head), three Weasleys, a burly Ravenclaw sixth year and finally, to Artemis' relief, Blaise and a white-haired boy Artemis assumed was Theodore Nott. He slid the compartment door open.

"Hi, Fowl," Blaise greeted him. Artemis nodded in reply and turned to her companion. "Theodore Nott, I presume?"

The boy reached out and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you." His tone was vague and rather misty. "I'm Theo." He turned his back on Artemis and dug around in an army-green backpack for a giant blood-red lollipop, which he started sucking on. Blaise, it seemed, had not been exaggerating as far as Theo's eccentricity was concerned. (Had Artemis been more informed about the magical world at that time, he would have realized that Theo had a secret love of Blood Pops.)

Artemis took a seat beside Blaise, observing Theo. He had a shock of bright white hair cut in elfin-punk layers, but he hadn't done a very neat job of it. Artemis had noticed earlier on that the hair at the nape of his neck was black.

They spent most of the trip discussing the inter-house politics and pointing out various individuals as they passed. "That's Milo Frankley," Theo looked at the burly Ravenclaw Artemis had passed some time ago. "He's a real pervert. Whenever he's flying with girls, he always flies beneath them to stare up their skirts. He's done worse, but I won't go into that." He then glanced at the window. "Bloody hell." It wasn't an exclamation, more of a simple statement.

"What?" Blaise asked. Artemis moved over so he could have a clear view. "Good lord," Artemis muttered. "A flying car." It was a Ford Anglia, low-class in Artemis' opinion; he was used to expensive Bentleys and top-of-the-line Range Rovers. Artemis opened his trunk and took out his new lunascope. Butler had chosen well; this particular lunascope doubled as a telescope.

"So what do you see in there?" Theo asked.

"A redhead, with so many freckles that he looks positively diseased."

"Ronald Weasley," Theo muttered. "And?"

"Another boy. Black hair, bright green eyes and a lightning bolt scar down the middle of his forehead. Harry James Potter joyriding. Who knew?" Artemis commented.

"They're doing a bang up job of staying hidden, that's for sure," said Blaise sarcastically.

"Blaise's specialty is illusion spells," Theo added to Artemis. "One of the best."

"I'm touched."

"Thank you."

Artemis folded up the lunascope and placed it back in his trunk, just as the door slid open.

"Hi," the girl said. She had bright red hair and large brown eyes. "Can I sit here? I don't want to sit with my brothers. They're all acting like every male who shoots me a second glance in the corridor is an evil, stuck-up terrorist in disguise."

Blaise waved her in carelessly. "Go ahead. And just so you know, Weaslette, your brother's up there joyriding with Harry Potter."

"WHAT?" the girl screeched. She sped over to the window and looked out. "Oh gods. He's going to get a Howler in the morning. Why didn't he take me?"

"Older brothers are like that," Theo said dismissively.

"You said it." The girl turned to our protagonist. "Hey. What's your name?"

"I'm Artemis Fowl the Second."

"Ginny Weasley."

"You're going to be in Gryffindor," Theo predicted.

"With all my brothers," sighed Ginny. "Maybe I'll go into Slytherin to annoy them. Imagine the look on their faces!"

Blaise grinned at that. "Yeah. Think Goldfish Malfoy."

The girls laughed. Ginny took the seat across from Artemis. Nobody could quite find anything to say after that. Artemis took out Berlin Academy's Advanced Transfiguration, Theo fell asleep, Blaise read Artemis' book and Ginny started writing in her diary, careful to keep it shielded from her traveling companions. Maybe I should start a diary, Artemis thought. Keep track of all my exploits and brilliant ideas.

Artemis was just getting the hang of Esoterius (a spell to keep one person confined within a bubble-like cage) when the door slid open once again.

The unwanted visitor was the gel-lover from earlier. On each side of him was a large, beefy boy. They'd be as big as Butler one day, but never as intelligent.

"So," the blonde sneered. "It's true. Slytherin house's very first Mudblood is on the train."

Ginny snapped her diary shut. The blonde noticed. "Ooh, look. What's Weaslette going to do to me?" He feigned pure terror of the redhead, speaking in baby talk. "Help, I'm so scared! Help! Mummy! Where are my bwothers? Waah!"

Ginny looked simply furious, but before Artemis could articulate a sharp retort, he felt his chest seize up with pain. Great. Of all the times to have an asthma attack, it had to be now, right in front of a wannabe-Fowl. Hearing loud laughter and taunts from the blonde's direction, he fished around in his pockets for his inhaler. Had he been looking in Theo's direction, he would have noticed Theo's hair turning a dark gray. As it were, he took a few puffs and looked up.

WHAM!

Theo had the new boy by the neck, and was lifting him up with a strength hidden by his pale, thin limbs. His eyes held an almost mad look, and a steely, ruthless glint.

"So, Malfoy," Theo spat the word out like it was a disease. "This is what the great Slytherin Prince is reduced to, eh? Taunting his juniors and insulting the sick. Wow, amazing. You self-righteous prat!"

Blaise met Artemis' eyes and mouthed at him 'dark Theo'.

"You probably couldn't survive a day without those single-celled Cro-Magnons that you call bodyguards. See, even when you're practically dying on the spot, they're still staring around and wondering what colour the sky is." Indeed, Malfoy's face was turning a lovely shade of aquamarine, and his cronies were still staring blankly at some point above Malfoy's head.

"Theo!" Blaise's sharp voice rang through the air. "Stop it. Now!"

"Blaise, d'you know what these uncultured geeks are doing?"

"Yes, and you'll be expelled before you've even gotten to school for killing a fellow student!"

After much pleading-cum-screaming from Blaise, Theo let go of Malfoy's neck. The Slytherin Prince slid to the ground, shooting Theo a look of utter loathing. "You'll pay," the blonde hissed. "You'll pay for this, Mudblood-lovers!" With that, the three of them sped out the compartment door – but not before Theo's booted (combat boots) foot connected neatly with Malfoy's behind.

"Interesting parting shot for someone who claims to despise Muggles. That variation of 'goodbye' can be found in countless Hollywood action flicks," Artemis commented.

"Holly-what?"

"Never mind."

Theo's hair was white once more – Light Theo was back in control. "Hey, I have an idea – heck, it's childish and immature, but we're barely out of adolescence."

"A revenge prank?" Blaise's eyebrows looked as if they would fall off her face.

"Don't worry. Thousands of immature fraternity males execute more perverted and childish pranks than the one I suspect Theo has in mind," said Artemis. (AN: No offence to any college/fraternity/sorority people reading this.)

Dear Tom,

I've just gotten away from my annoying brothers. Hovering around me like the gnomes in our yard. It's enough to drive a girl mad.

I didn't see Harry on the train. Should I really believe the Slytherins and take it for granted that my idiot brother – well, one of them, anyway – is riding an illegal flying car to school with the love of my life? Well, not yet – I mean, the love-of-my-life thing, but I do hope Harry will realize that I exist soon.

Anyway, the Slytherins I'm riding with are kind of odd. One of them is what Hermione calls funks, or is it punks, with white hair and multiple ear piercings. Why would anyone want to poke little needles through their ears? It's just plain dumb. Hermione said it hurts like hell – direct quote; imagine the perfect, intelligent Hermione swearing. And there's a girl, Blaise Zabini, I think her name is. I love her hair! It's sandy blonde or brown and barely brushes her shoulders. I'd trade the red mop Mum calls hair with it any day.

The other boy looks a bit like Harry, although his features are more angular and his skin is whiter than parchment. He has the nicest eyes –

Oh gods, I can't be getting a crush on a Slytherin! Mum would have a fit. Must remember to stay true to Harry. Repeat: I cannot fall in love with a Slytherin, I cannot fall in love with a Slytherin. It isn't really working.

Nothing's happening now, except that Zabini just put on some WWN. They're playing some song by the Weird Sisters, a cover of the Muggle band Maroon 5 or something. "Sunday Morning," I think it's called. Oh, darn, I'm babbling again and my writing's going all over the place because the train's shaking and you won't be able to read a word.

I've got to stop now, Tom. We're getting near the school anyway. Not that near, but I have to go or the evil beings known as older brothers are going to be screaming bloody murder and running up and down the train.

Love, Ginny

Tom Riddle was seething with frustration. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was listen to adolescent girl talk. And judging by the fact that they were in a compartment full of pureblood Slytherins, one of them might figure out what he was and, god forbid, set him on fire. Why couldn't those damn Gryffindors start thinking about other people for a change?

No offence to any older brothers.

Reviews greatly appreciated.

Thanks.

I've already written chapter five, but I'd like to see your reactions and stuff to this chapter.

Thank you to all my reviewers who stuck around till now.

Any spelling errors to be blamed on the QuickEdit...which has stuck words together where they're not supposed to be. At least from my experience.