"Mr. Fowl, is what I hear about you apprehending Peter Pettigrew true?" Professor Snape asked. He seemed quite tired, and exasperated as well.
"Yes, sir."
His Head of House sighed. "You know, for someone so intelligent, you have quite an uncanny ability of chasing after trouble."
Artemis looked at the ground, mildly embarrassed. "I hardly think that catching an imposter of a rat is considered trouble, sir. Besides, Theodore also helped."
"And yet you manage to involve yourself in every single mystery that this school has to offer."
"I prefer the information gained from the experience rather than the adventure."
"You are a Slytherin, true."
Artemis permitted himself a small smile. "Sir, when do you think the results of Pettigrew's questioning will be done?"
"Possibly tomorrow. The Veritaserum is being administered right now."
They sat in silence. Artemis enjoyed talking to Professor Snape. He was an intelligent, logical, and reasonable man – when not holding grudges against the Gryffindors (although it was quite funny, seeing him pick on the Lions). Finally, he said, "Who do you think is the real perpetrator?"
"I do not know. I would rather wait until the questioning is over."
"If Pettigrew truly is the guilty one…I do not know what to do about Black. Even if he had been innocent, he would have been irreversibly damaged by his experience with the Dementors by now," Artemis pondered.
"Even when we were in school, he was always mental," Professor Snape snarled. "Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin – they were all insane children, running around and causing trouble everywhere. None of them were ever up to any good."
"Professor Lupin? I can't imagine him as a prankster like the Weasley twins," Artemis said, mildly surprised. Was this why his Professor hated the other man so much?
"Potter and Black were the main perpetrators," Professor Snape said. "Lupin was more of a coward, hiding behind his more powerful friends' backs while they ran roughshod. When they would bully people, he just stood around and did nothing. And for that, they made him a Prefect." The man scowled.
Even after so many decades, his Potions professor still bitterly held on to a grudge. Come to think of it, that was probably why he was so sarcastically cruel to Potter – more so than the rest of the student body, anyway – the boy's father had been a troublemaker, and Professor Snape expected the apple to fall right at the base of the tree. Artemis decided not to get on his Head's bad side, lest his descendants suffer the brunt of his wrath.
It was the Quidditch finals. The old rivals, Slytherin and Gryffindor House, were playing against each other, and the tension was racking up to extreme, record-breaking levels. It became extremely distracting. Artemis wondered how many people would score significantly lower on their finals just to see this.
"You have to be extra good, Malfoy," Marcus Flint told him. (The other boy had not given them any trouble following the Confunding incident, which he was quite thankful for). "Potter's got that damn Firebolt now."
"I know, I know," Draco snarled, looking ill.
"Hey, no pressure. Just pretend like you're racing against yourself," Theodore said. "You only have to beat yourself. No one's going to be watching."
"Thanks, Theo."
Artemis also pulled up several new tactics for the rest of the team. "We should not neglect our Chasers. If we score so many times that we start leading by one hundred and sixty points, we will automatically win the game no matter who gets the Snitch." The boys on the team were clever and strong enough – all they needed was a whole, mapped plan. Artemis was confident that the Slytherins would be much more successful, now that they had stopped using brute force and cheating to get their way.
"I predict that this will be a very dirty game," Blaise said, in a misty, high pitched, feminine voice. It was obviously a very poor attempt at mocking Professor Trelawney through imitation.
Theodore giggled.
Artemis watched the game, vaguely listening to Lee Jordan advertise the Firebolt and flirting with the female Gryffindor chasers instead of making actual commentary, and Professor McGonagall yelling at him to focus on the game. After more tangents, he finally returned to his actual job – albeit with extreme bias towards the Gryffindors. Then again, that could easily have been payback for Professor Snape's bias in the Slytherins' favor.
The game was actually extremely nerve-wracking and exciting for once. It was extremely close. The Gryffindor Chasers were quite talented, Artemis had to admit, but the three girls, in the end, were no match for the Slytherin Chasers. Artemis watched, mildly impressed. So they had finally taken his advice and begun practicing – that was a beautiful backwards pass.
"Slytherin scores, without cheating for once," Lee Jordan monotoned.
Slytherin had actually been leading by 140 points before Potter and Draco both spotted the Snitch at the same time and began to give chase. Potter had the faster broom, though, and this advantage allowed him to catch the tiny fluttering golden ball before Draco. The Gryffindors won by ten points.
They won the game, but not the cup. Slytherin had been too far in the lead – the Gryffindors would have needed a win of 200 points to win the Quidditch Cup. Wood looked rather dejected, but he shook hands with Marcus Flint anyway.
"Great job, guys. That was actually a fair game."
"You did well, too, Draco. The chase was a really close one," Potter said, smiling.
"Yeah. I guess I'll have to bully Father into getting me a new broom this summer," Draco joked.
Off in the distance, one could hear people whispering, "Dear Merlin, is that Potter and Malfoy actually talking civilly?"
"No insults or attempted murder? I must be going mad."
"Me, too, because I see actual, good, old-fashioned sportsmanship."
"And I thought chivalry was dead."
Time rolled on, and before they knew it, Finals week was around the corner. (Shout-out to all you high-school and college students out there! Wooo…. *flop*)
"I don't understand Divination at all," Blaise complained.
"I do," Artemis said.
"You don't even take this subject!" Blaise whined.
"No, but I predict that in about five seconds there will be a large mess," Artemis suggested innocently.
"What?" Blaise looked up, and in the process, his sleeve was caught on the edge of his binder. As he tried to pull it free, he knocked over his jar of ink, which shattered, and the rest of his books and notes came tumbling down a millisecond later. Blaise stared at the scene, slowly absorbing the chaos on the ground. He sank back down in his chair. "Damn you and your intuition, Artemis."
Artemis gave him a superior look and went back to his work.
Blaise groaned. "You're a great friend, Artemis."
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
Blaise sighed, and waved his wand at his scattered notes and broken ink pot, muttering under his breath. After a few seconds, he gathered the stray papers and reorganized them on the table, trying to get in his cramming. As an extra precaution, he placed his repaired ink jar in the center of the table and capped it tightly.
"Don't worry about Divination," Theodore said lightly. "You just have to make up the most creative ways of someone dying, and you'll pass with flying colors! It's how I stayed awake the entire year."
As always, Artemis breezed through the examinations. He had a little bit of trouble in his Defense Against the Dark Arts final because it involved a practical application – an obstacle course, of sorts, that they traversed individually, filled with the various Dark creatures they had encountered throughout the year.
Artemis was perfectly fine when it came to dealing with the Dark creatures – he took out a Red Cap with a simple wave of his wand; it was just the obstacle course that he had trouble with. Exercise was not his thing. He supposed that if he wanted to survive in the magical world, without Butler always there to help him, he would have to learn how to run quickly. Artemis planned to make Butler teach him a few techniques over the summer.
The scariest thing was the finale – a Boggart. Of course, it would be frightening, as a representation of one's greatest fear. Artemis hadn't had a chance to experience the Boggart on the first day of class, however, so when he finally had to face his own fear, it was a great shock to him.
How was he supposed to have known that his Boggart was himself?
It was creepy enough, being on the receiving end of your own vampire smile.
His alter ego was older, taller, and looked the same, except the features were twisted and cruel, and his normally ice blue eyes had turned red like a bloody fire. His skin was paler than normal, sunken and sallow, and gave him in appearance of a living corpse. He raised his wand – basilisk scale and cypress, thirteen inches, precise – and hissed –
It was then that he realized – he was afraid of his own future, becoming as deluded and cruel as Voldemort – a complete waste of genius and talent, trying to achieve an unattainable goal, using a bunch of worthless means.
"Riddikulus!"
The figure collapsed into ash. Artemis stepped on them just once before walking out of the maze.
"Very good, Mr. Fowl. You did outstandingly. Well done," Lupin beamed. "And I was impressed how you could tackle the Boggart, given that you never received a chance to fight it before."
"I suppose it took on a more interesting form for me," Artemis replied coolly.
"Indeed. The thing you fear the greatest is the darkness within yourself. And acknowledging it is the first step to overcoming it." Lupin smiled kindly. "I hope you will do well in the future."
Artemis nodded, and returned the smile. "I hope so, too."
"By the way, Mr. Fowl?"
Artemis turned, halfway to the door. "Yes?"
"Thank you for apprehending Pettigrew, and saving an innocent man." At this, Lupin's smile seemed to droop, and it looked – not disappointed, but melancholy. "Sirius Black was a good friend to me, and while I am glad that he turned out not to be a traitor after all…it pains me to know that I did not stand beside him."
"I have important news, and whether or not you deem it is good or bad is up to you," Professor Dumbledore told the original seven – Potter and his friends, Granger and Weasley, and the Slytherin gang – Artemis, Blaise, Draco, and Theodore.
"Is it about Pettigrew?"
"Yes. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he confessed to everything. He was the guilty one the entire time, as the Potters had switched their Secret-Keeper at the last moment. He had betrayed them to the Dark Lord, and faked his own death while Sirius Black attempted to capture him."
Theodore's eyes flickered in an "I told you so" fashion. Blaise was still gaping at his friend, though Dumbledore mistook it for Blaise being surprised at the turnout of events in general.
"And he allowed an innocent man to be imprisoned for twelve years while he lived as a parasitic rat, always on the lookout for Black in case he ever returned," Artemis said disgustedly.
"Indeed. We shall publish the real news, and in a few moments he shall be carted off to the Ministry, and Black shall be pardoned."
"I still want to know how Sirius Black escaped from prison," Draco said.
"We shall not know that story until we find him. Hopefully, he will choose to reveal himself peacefully, and we can bring him to justice."
"Wait," Potter spoke up hopefully. "He's my godfather, isn't he? If he's innocent, and turns out to be all right – "
"If you could call slashing pictures with a knife and running after people like a crazy person all right," Weasley muttered.
"Then…" Potter looked at Professor Dumbledore pleadingly. "Do I still have to go back to my Muggle relatives for the summer?" That was rather genuine. Artemis assumed that these relatives of his were not exactly the tender, loving, caring, concerned guardians that were necessary for a child's proper mental and physical development.
"Unfortunately yes, I am afraid," Professor Dumbledore said sadly. "You must stay with them until at most your birthday, which is the minimum amount of time required in order to officially call your aunt's home your home. It has to do with the blood wards and your mother's protection."
Potter looked extremely disappointed.
"Rest assured, Harry, that once we find your godfather and determine the state of his health, you can visit him as many times as you both wish," Professor Dumbledore said in an attempt to comfort the boy. It seemed to cheer him up somewhat, although not completely.
They left in considerably higher spirits than before (except for Potter, who was still rather morose at the thought of returning to his Muggle relatives in the summer).
"We can find Sirius Black with the Map!" Potter suggested.
"That's only if he's on Hogwarts grounds, though," Granger pointed out.
"It's worth a shot, isn't it? I mean, he's bound to come back on sooner or later. It'll be like playing wizarding I Spy, with moving pictures." That would be a great game to market…
"Found him!" Weasley said, pointing to a small dot at the base of the Whomping Willow labeled "Sirius Black". The dot began moving across the field.
"If we leave now we can get him while he's still on the field!" Potter exclaimed. "Let's go!"
"Now? You can go. I'll stay here," Artemis said. He had no intention of chasing ex-criminals around, even if they were originally innocent. Twelve years in jail was not exactly a good remedy for one's mental state.
They rolled their eyes at him. "Suit yourself."
"When, Koboi? When?"
"Shut up, you've already asked me that three times this week. And it's only Tuesday."
"I am a part of this, too – "
"You cannot hurry genius or strategy. I will know the right time when it comes. The Fowl boy needs to be alone and isolated."
"And then we will succeed."
"Yes. Yes we will, dearest Briar."