ARTEMIS FOWL: EYE OF THE BASILISK
I am having a lot of trouble keeping Artemis in high-class vocabulary.
chapter five: curiosity killed the cat
Artemis wasn't going to admit this to anyone any time soon, but he was impressed by Hogwarts. It was approximately twice the size of his manor, although once inside, everything started getting weird.
The Entrance Hall was all very well, but it was what Artemis found inside that annoyed him. There was one word for the monstrosity that he now despised.
Poltergeists.
Peeves' name suited him to a T. The minute Artemis stepped into the Entrance Hall, the ghost had swooped someplace above his head and dumped a bucket of cleaning materials all over Artemis, mop and all. The worst thing about it was that the cold water was anything but clean, the mop hit Artemis right on the head, and the soap was old and fungus-ridden.
It was, therefore, a fuming Artemis Fowl that strode in to the Great Hall, the mop glued to his feet by Malfoy, whom Artemis had seen removing his wand before the mop attached itself to Artemis' new loafers. The students, who were trickling in to the Hall via side doors, sniggered at the unfortunate plight of the new Slytherin. Dark Theo had nearly come about again, had the bucket itself not hit him on the head. (Artemis would have removed the mop-charm earlier, but the only cure, sadly, was a potion.)
Blaise had dutifully spouted some choice words at Malfoy before the three of them took seats at the Slytherin table, as near to the High Table as it was possible to get. Artemis did the customary observing before sitting down again (the mop still clinging to his shoes).
Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were there, apart from a dumpy little witch with flyaway, gray hair and very dirty-looking fingernails (even from Artemis' seat). She was Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House and Herbology professor. Next to her was an empty seat, and beside that –
"Good heavens," Blaise murmured. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Sadly, yes, it is," Theo sighed. "The celebrity guest star in this already chaotic excuse for a play. Figure of speech," he added, as Blaise shot him a blank look. "But literally on the celebrity part. Hopefully guest star too."
"Who is that?" said Artemis sneeringly. The wavy blond hair, bright sparking teeth and vacant blue eyes did nothing to improve the teacher's newfound status in Artemis' mind as a Dumb Blonde.
"Gilderoy Lockhart. Twenty-something, I think. He claims to have freed a village from the monthly terror of werewolves," Blaise explained. "I'll eat myself if one word of it was true. My mum and I were at the same village he 'saved' at the time, and I know for a fact that Gilderoy's grand rescue was all by some old geezer."
"He certainly looks the part of a fraud," Artemis commented.
"Lockhart is a fraud, but all the girls go gaga over him for some reason. Look at Granger. People say she's intelligent – just look at the expression on her face," Theo pointed at a bushy-haired brunette across the Hall.
Artemis duly looked at the girl. She was staring at Lockhart with a big, goofy grin and sparkling eyes that made her look like she'd just been lifted to Cloud Nine. The blonde teacher winked back at her and the other Gryffindor girls. They promptly swooned.
"It's just a celebrity crush. She'll get over it," Theo voiced his companions' thoughts.
However, it seemed that the entire female student body (with the exception of Blaise) had fallen hard and fast for the new professor.
Nobody in Slytherin really paid much attention to the Sorting, aside from cheering whenever a new House member was chosen. Artemis didn't even bother; he just continued charming his portable computer to run on magic. Dinner was a talkative affair on the new trio's part, as Artemis managed to out-debate – in 'high vocabulary', no less – both Theodore and Blaise on the subject of magical artifacts, like diaries that talked back to you, the existence of ghosts and various topics.
Blaise led Artemis and Theo down to the Slytherin common room after dinner – although Theo knew the way, he had fallen asleep on his feet. "It's a talent of Theo's," Blaise said as they entered a stone corridor. "He can fall asleep anywhere but wherever he goes, he somehow hones back in on the common room. Don't ask me how this fits in with his terrible sense of direction."
Artemis knew perfectly well how it fit in, but didn't bother saying anything. Blaise turned to him. "What's the password again?"
"Serpensortia."
"OK."
The stones gave way to form the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Artemis stepped inside, closely followed by Theo. It was absolutely freezing.
"Hope you brought lots of winter wear," Theo mumbled. Blaise shot him a strange look.
"That's the first time he's actually said anything sensible while sleepwalking."
Artemis had brought a knee-length black leather coat and a black turtleneck, but there wasn't much else apart from Armani suits.
"Don't go up to the girls' dorms," Theo quietly advised Artemis, pointing at the left staircase (AN: I totally forgot everything; I'm on vacation, bear with me here.). "I tried going up once, but the thing turned into a slide, screamed like a banshee and blasted me halfway across the common room."
"Point taken. Do not invade Blaise's privacy."
"That sounds about right." Blaise yawned. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
Artemis nodded in reply and ascended the right-hand staircase, tailing Theo. When they reached the first level, the two of them went through the door.
Five four-poster beds were spread out along the large room. Artemis' trunk was at the end of his bed, which in turn was at the furthest end of the room. Theo's was clearly beside his; there was a large box stuffed full of Blood Pops beside Theo's trunk. The hangings of each bed were deep green with silver trimming. Artemis went over and sat on his bed. It was extremely comfortable.
The excitement of the day finally set in, and Artemis collapsed on the luxurious mattress, not even bothering to take the mop off his shoes. It would have to wait till breakfast; for now, sleep was priority.
"Turn a beetle into a button they say," Blaise snorted, trying to keep her dung beetle still. "Seriously, anyone who can get this thing still long enough to transfigure it must be positively superhuman. Oh well, at least I don't have a broken wand like Weasley." Blaise was one of many that had had a good laugh at Ron Weasley's Howler. Artemis had been focusing on his toast in a supreme display of indifference.
"You'd still wind up with the same results, Blaise."
Blaise hadn't been kidding when she'd said she was a Transfiguration class failure. Artemis had proved he was no failure – on his table rested three gradually growing piles of coat buttons. In three different sizes.
There was nothing else for him to do, so Artemis decided he'd get some sleep and proceeded to rest his head in his right hand. Bad move. Resting when you're sitting just in front of Draco Malfoy is not a good thing to do, especially if you have made friends – correction, allies – with the boy that is second on said Malfoy's hate list.
As it were, Artemis heard Malfoy whisper something. Less than a second later, Artemis' hand was encased in a sticky goo, not to mention stuck firmly to the side of his face. The good thing about this was that Malfoy promptly received detention – he had timed his spell wrongly and hexed Artemis in front of McGonagall. The downside? Artemis had to endure taunts, snickers and stares all the way to the Hospital Wing, and was twenty minutes late for Potions.
Artemis, being in Slytherin, received no punishment for being twenty minutes late. He settled down to brewing his potion with Theo, who seemed vaguer than ever. Taking this as a good sign, Artemis poured in the essence of belladonna without worry. He was met with the sight of a thick, frothy concoction (kind of like coffee), which he recognized as an acid that was non-lethal to humans, but could dissolve metal of any kind. Although brewing such a rare potion was a good thing, that day's Potions class had been brewing a Forgetfulness Potion – which was supposed to have been watery and steaming.
"Theo!" Artemis hissed. "Theodore Nott!"
"What?" the punk asked, head suddenly jerking upwards.
"Did you do everything on the board?"
Theo's eyes traveled down the board. "Oh. No, I didn't. I missed out something on the second line. Never mind, that potion's bound to do something."
"Leaking through your cauldron, for instance."
Those six words got Theo up and out of his chair. He grabbed a spare flask from the store cupboard and poured the Ironburn Concoction into it. Thankfully, the flask was made out of glass, but there was no repairing the damage done to Theo's new silver cauldron.
"Professor Snape? Fowl and I just brewed an Ironburn Concoction, sir."
If Theo had been a Gryffindor, he would have been scolded and punished for disobeying the specified orders to create something new and more valuable. As it was, Artemis and Theo earned a round thirty points for their House on the spot.
"Ironburn," someone muttered. The redhead from the flying car. "Hah! What's the betting that stupid concoction doesn't exist?"
"You know, that's right. I've never heard of the Ironburn Concoction."
"See, Harry? Even Hermione hasn't heard of it. Does that tell you something about how much Snape sucks up to his rich pet Slytherins?"
"I assure you, Mister Weasley, that Professor Snape is not – as you so eloquently put it – sucking up to me. He was merely commending the proper brewing of the Ironburn Concoction, which, by the way, is a sixth year potion."
Weasley muttered something about show-offs. Artemis smirked.
"Show-off, am I? Speak for yourself. Unless I am very much mistaken, you were the one flying a bright blue Ford Anglia halfway across Muggle London. In plain sight, no less. If it was a publicity stunt, Mister Weasley, congratulations on its success. Or," Artemis added in an undertone as the bell rang, "was it simply sheer stupidity?"
The boy looked like he wanted nothing better to take the Ironburn and shove it down Artemis's throat. Artemis did some quick thinking, and then flashed the best smile he could at Hermione Granger, taking care not to look too much like Lockhart.
As the Half Smile had worked with the schoolgirls from opposite St. Bartleby's, it worked like a charm on Granger. She had a deer-in-the-headlights look for a moment, and then came the blushing. Weasley and Potter noticed, and shot angry looks at Fowl, who simply smirked back.
Artemis heard them arguing all the way to his Defense class, which, he was pleased to note, took place without Gryffindors.
Artemis took a seat between Theo and Blaise, who were griping at each other about something. Exactly two seconds later, Gilderoy Lockhart strolled jauntily into the room, giving everyone a huge, fake-looking (to Artemis at least) grin. Pansy Parkinson and her girl gang swooned.
Artemis zoned out during Lockhart's mindless greetings until a sheet of parchment was slapped down on his desk. Artemis blinked and read the loopy cursive scrawled on it. God help me, this man is such an arrogant idiot. What did I ever do to get this babbling moron as my mentor? In any case, since he doesn't even bother setting a proper quiz for his class, I will return the favour in my answers.
1What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?
Bright electric pink, which is doubtless the color of his underwear.
2, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
From what I have seen, Gilderoy Lockhart aspires to be a world-famous transvestite.
3, What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
His greatest achievement is somehow attaining the ability to talk and walk simultaneously. An equally great achievement is being the biggest fraud that I have had the misfortune to encounter.
4, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite book?
He doesn't have one – I doubt he can read.
5, What do you think should Gilderoy Lockhart do in the case of another dire emergency?
I strongly suggest that Gilderoy Lockhart throw himself off a cliff and thus leave the emergency in good hands.
6, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favoured clothing article?
The article in question is doubtless his electric pink thong.
7, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's strongest weapon?
His sheer, blinding arrogance should, technically, not be counted as a weapon, but there are no other 'weapons' available in his arsenal.
8, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite vacation spot?
Anywhere with a mirror.
9, Who was Gilderoy Lockhart's first love?
Whoever she was, I feel deeply sorry for her.
10, What is Gilderoy Lockhart's natural hair color?
Gray. If his hair is truly blonde, why would he pose such a question?
"Stupid answers for stupid questions," Artemis muttered, turning the page.
11. How many times has Gilderoy Lockhart won the Witch Weekly's Most-Charming Smile Award?
His excuse for a smile strikes terror into the hearts of wizards and witches worldwide.
12. Where did Gilderoy Lockhart go to school?
He was home-schooled under a Kwikspell course for Squibs.
13. Who is Gilderoy Lockhart's idol?
Colin Creevey, the newest Harry Potter fanatic.
14. Who is Gilderoy Lockhart's number one fan?
His mother.
At this point, Artemis started to zone out. Although he was good at multi-tasking, all his concentration was then diverted to criminal plots (i.e. write a new paper on psychology, hack into Fort Knox and drain the money into own account, build a supercomputer for all criminal activities, et cetera). While he was concentrating on his criminal plots, his mind wandered off and told his hand to write even stupider answers, finally rounding off the whole fiasco by accidentally writing the last answer in German.
The rest of the lesson was spent watching a re-enactment of one of his great 'rescues' – Blaise, the sole volunteer, did a very good job of making Lockhart look extremely stupid. Needless to say, Artemis failed the test – but as we are talking about a class full of Slytherins, the others (except for the girls, excluding Blaise) had also used the test to insult their teacher as much as possible. Although none of them had used such high vocabulary as our protagonist.
As the bell rang, the Slytherins were told to serve detention by cleaning the entire castle with Argus Filch, no magic. However, as Blaise put it, 'at least we got one up on the blonde git'. Theo had later gone around asking for copies of the Lockhart-bashing tests, and distributed them to the student population. A surprising number of students contributed to this, and the rest of the day was spent reading out funny anecdotes from the compilation of all the tests.
Objectives for the day: Kill the Freckly Redhead's pet rat and eat it, steal the strange girl's diary and try to read it, and enjoy both activities on the roof of the Astronomy Tower.
Machiavelli walked down the halls with Mrs. Norris to the hunting grounds she'd mentioned. The black cat now knew quite a bit about the school, having befriended the caretaker's cat some time ago – just to get as much knowledge about the school as he could. Had Machiavelli been human, he would have been placed in Ravenclaw, if not for a very Slytherin disposition. In fact, he despised the disgusting Norris, if not for her usefulness.
They were soon joined by a rather odd-looking feline with square-shaped markings around her eyes.
/I don't believe I've seen you before. What's your name?/
Cats, as it were, could communicate with each other, due to few of the cats in the school being hundred percent feline – the majority were descended from Kneazles. Machiavelli was pure wizarding cat and proud of it, as he could sense magic. Like most – all right, all – the Hogwarts cats, Machiavelli was capable of intelligent thought, thank you very much.
/I'm Machiavelli, proud master of Artemis Fowl II. And you would be?/
The school cats were also quite arrogant. They all assumed themselves the masters of their owners, simply because their owners fed them regularly and often indulged them in little luxuries. Machiavelli knew better, that he was a Fowl pet, but saying 'proud pet of Artemis Fowl II' was not an impressive way of introducing oneself.
The odd-looking feline snorted a kitty snort. /You adapt well. Already you speak like a castle cat./
Machiavelli was starting to get quite ticked off. /I politely told you my name. Now, I require your name. Is that not the way most beings carry on a conversation?/ He saw Norris roll her eyes and continue onwards.
/My name is Minerva. I'm known to your – pet – as Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher. You act a lot like your owner. If I didn't know better, I would swear that you look like he would in Animagus form./
/No, I don't,/ Machiavelli corrected, now quite irritated. /We don't look alike at all./
/Of course not./
/Well, if you have nothing more to say, I bid you goodbye. I have prior engagements to attend./
/Sounds like a polite way of saying 'back off, I don't want you here'./
/Would you prefer it if I put it in simpler terms?/
/Perhaps not. Goodbye./
She's so annoying, Machiavelli thought to himself as he slunk off to Gryffindor Tower, keeping well within the shadows. Finding the darkness was a talent of his, another talent that he shared with Artemis. All right, she may be pleasant enough, but, like my master, I am a total social leper.
Machiavelli leapt on a windowsill and slipped out into the cool night air. Some extremely loud snoring sounds were coming from the closed window above him, slightly to the left. Probably the boys' dormitories.
Extending his claws, the cat dug them into various holes in between the stones. Using the holes as handholds, he climbed up and left to the window from which the snoring sound was heard. Alighting gracefully on the sill, he observed the window itself. It seemed as if it could only be opened from the inside. No matter – Machiavelli sat and thought for a while. He wasn't the smartest by human standards, but had the poise, resourcefulness and cunning of a practiced thief.
Retracting all claws but one, Machiavelli scratched a large square on the glass, big enough for him to slip through. The glass was thick with magical protection, but it was old, and not really ideal for keeping cats out. After lots of scratching (kept as quiet as possible) and gentle shoving on Machiavelli's part, the newly-scratched square pane fell straight onto the boy's bed beside the window. The cat landed lightly, barely making a sound as he padded off the bed.
Of course, this wasn't just for any old rat. This was because rumours had reached Machiavelli's kitty ears about this particular rodent. Even the normal cats harboured their own suspicions about the Weasley rat, as it was known. It lived longer than any other rat, and the Hogwarts cat veterans had told Machiavelli about the odd aura that hovered around this rat. Norris, too, had passed on her own tales of the rat, told to her by her mother. Apparently the same rat had been running around the castle since over fifteen years ago, with the same aura. Minerva radiated a similar aura, only it was more feline with a slight human scent – even more so than any student's cat. But let's get back to our story.
Machiavelli sniffed the air. Yes, there it was, the rodent scent. It was coming from the nearest bed, lying in between the sheets. Machiavelli moved closer, ever so quietly. A little rat nose poked out from beneath the deep scarlet of the duvet. Machiavelli shuddered. How gaudy. The green of Artemis's bed was much better.
The black cat crouched and launched. A second before his claws pierced the rat's tiny body, it was up and running. Machiavelli growled deep in his throat and ran after it. It had a head start, but Machiavelli was closing in on it – not for long.
After Machiavelli had run into two suits of armour (which the rat had dashed in and out of) and the caretaker in his pursuit of the slippery rodent, it darted out to the grounds. Machiavelli was starting to wonder if it was even worth it, but his mentality was like his owner's: If you have the misfortune of being drawn into a fight, win it. That said in his mind, he ploughed on, running faster than any cat in the castle could ever hope to.
The rat was running towards a tree that stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the grounds. It pressed a small (from that distance) knob at the base of the trunk, and slipped into a hollow at the said base. Machiavelli followed, still running at full speed.
He tailed the rat through a tunnel and finally to a dusty-looking living room – or what was left of it. It was horribly torn up; the curtains were ripped and rustled slightly in the wind, large amounts of stuffing leaked out of the couch, and the chandelier had since been torn down. Machiavelli sniffed the air once more. The rat was still there, he was sure of it. He could smell it…but it was strongly tinged with human now. What was it doing here in this excuse for a horror movie set?
The cat's irrational thought stopped when a hand found his neck and gripped it tightly. He was lifted up by the rodent-smelling hand – a four-fingered hand.
"Don't you know," a hoarse voice said, "that curiosity killed the cat?"
Machiavelli squinted with his night eyes. The man that had him in a stranglehold was extremely grubby, with graying hair that reminded Machiavelli of the rat that the man could become. He had buck teeth and was extremely ugly; the majority of his features were smeared with dirt and grime.
"Learn that phrase, cat," the man said croakily. "And let it be a lesson to you. Your last lesson." Machiavelli felt the grip tighten and promptly decided that he was getting OUT of there, no matter the cost.
The man (lunatic in Machiavelli's opinion) found himself holding a yowling, screeching black tornado-like thing that scratched and bit his hand, drawing blood wherever the teeth and claws struck. The man winced; the cat packed a punch for something of its size. Even the school cats weren't as violent or strong. Finally, when the pain grew too much to bear, he let go of Machiavelli.
Machiavelli streaked up and out the tunnel, out of the strange tree, back to Artemis. He thanked the gods that the man had a weak grip and continued down to the dungeons, slipping into the Slytherin boys' dormitories via the recently excavated kitty route. He curled up on his master's bed, purring slightly at the comfort of the mattress. Forget the diary. There would be no more nighttime strolls for this cat for a while. A very long while.
POST-CHAPTER COMMENTS
This probably sucked, but never mind, OK? Reviews would be nice, but flames are OK too, strictly for this chapter. Things in bold are headings.
NEXT CHAPTER SPOILERS:
Artemis's first flying lesson and detention.
Theo purchases an odd article from a dealer.
Blaise starts dabbling in Dark articles.
Hmm…
CHAPTER SEVEN SPOILERS
(I've written half chapter six already, so I figured spoilers sounded OK.)
Question: What the heck is Artemis doing on the roof?
REVIEWS AND REPLIES
Free double-chocolate or lemon cookies to all reviewers.
Thank you to all reviewers who stuck with my insignificant little story for so long, and here are your answers.
Black Aliss – Nope, I won't diagnose you as insane yet. You liked the chapter? Thanks (not being sarcastic). That's what's important…Although I found your reaction odd as this is a fictional character's music taste we're talking about here. Never mind, hope you enjoyed this one too.
MuggleBuddy – Here's another cookie! Enjoy it (munches one).
Clutchy – I live in Singapore and buy my manga from Orchard Road bookstores. Might try to read Prince of Tennis one day – my budget's nearly used up buying presents for family and friends. I'm not allowed to order stuff online…too bad for me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE…Random topic for today's discussion: Pairings, and how they're going to be used? Yes, I'm bored and have nobody to talk to.
Favourite pairings:
Ron/Hermione
Tom/Ginny – yes, that Tom Riddle, with a Dark Ginny, my cup of tea.
Draco/Ginny
Holly/Artemis
Holly/Trouble Kelp
Artemis/Ginny (only occasionally)
YES, I'M DEAD BORED BECAUSE NOBODY'S TALKING TO ME!
As to the title of the fourth year, Dragon Heartstring, this is because a) Artemis's wand has a dragon heartstring core, b) the dragon in the First Task and c) I can't tell you this or it would give a lot away.
SPOILER:
Artemis stared. The boy in front of him stared back. The boy opened his mouth.
"Why the bloody hell do you look exactly like me?"
It was true. Both youths were complete mirror images of each other.
(Well, something along those lines.)
QUESTION FOR REVIEWERS:
Should Draco Malfoy …
a) Turn to the Light side before/after taking the Dark Mark, or should he …
b) Stay on the Dark side and be portrayed as evil?
The story can be set to go either way but I am sadly quite indecisive.
--EvilExpressions