ATTENTION WORLD

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Hogwarts, later that night

Artemis stood in silence.

In a meditative pose, he stared out the window of the Astronomy Tower. All of his thoughts floated around loosely in his mind. He could not bring himself to concentrate on just one.

The last of the Dementors were due to leave by the end of term. The tall, skeletal, ghostly figures still loomed in the distance like hordes of Grim Reapers without scythes. But as terrible as the Dementors were, they were the least of Artemis' worries. They could be stopped with one spell.

The Dark Lord would rise again sometime in the future.

And he had to be prepared for it.

Artemis thought of his friends, who would fight alongside him with all their might because they either supported him or Harry – he hoped. He thought of the Gryffindors – surely, they would fight to the death. Valiant, bold, and completely stupid and self-sacrificing. What about the rest of the Slytherins? He knew for a fact that their parents had been Death Eaters, no matter how many had denied it and walked free. Would those parents rejoin Voldemort at a moment's notice, and would their children follow them?

Draco in particular. He had been doubting his father's ideals as of late, but Artemis still had no idea where the other child's loyalty lay. Artemis could only do so much to influence him – Draco was extremely strong-willed, though his strength was rather obscured by his superficial behavior. He would have to ultimately choose his own path. Which one would he take?

Only time could tell.

Artemis suddenly felt a strong sense of courage well up inside of him. Instinctively, he reached for his wand. He didn't even know what he was doing.

He heard someone yell "Expecto Patronum!"

It sounded like his voice. Was it really him? It felt so detached from his body, like it was a part of his subconscious, a simple reflex; someone else was telling him to do this, and yet that other party was his own brain, his own soul acting of its own accord.

How was this possible? Was it a part of magic? There were so many things Artemis did not understand…the true nature of magic could not be dissected; it could not be controlled. The wand chooses its owner. The person determines his form. And vice versa.

Magic was a wild, untamed beast. Though the most powerful wizards in the world could shape it, mold it, and use it in such a versatile, malleable fashion, they were still so insignificant compared to the larger picture. The philosophy of magic was such a wide vacuum – just like the dimensions, just like the universe, just like the purpose of life, and every other great concept that mere humans could not grasp.

Two years ago, he would not have acknowledged that this was possible, that there were things to accept as facts of life without understanding them. Everything had to have a reason, a concrete detail (or at least a theory) that he could scientifically expound upon.

But now, he was perfectly content with being a mere genius, and understanding slightly more than the average living creature, and to attempt to change his fate and to battle with the force of nature was futile.

(He does not know it yet, but he will realize one day that these five minutes in his life are what sets him on his own path, and prevents him from repeating the mistakes of mankind. Because he is a genius, after all. He does not make mistakes.)

A vision flooded his mind again.

His father was alive. His father was alive. His father had given up so much for him, and nearly died to protect him and his mother, but the only thing that mattered at the moment was that his father was alive.

He didn't stop crying for an entire minute.

Were they tears of sadness?...Why would he be sad? His father had been so brave for him. And he had returned that. He had thanked his father by saving him.

His father was alive.

Perhaps emotion was a good thing, after all. Maybe there was more to it than a bunch of chemicals inside the brain. Artemis could literally feel the magical sparks bouncing around in his person. He could not comprehend these passionate sentiments or why he was feeling this way. It was beyond modern psychology. He would not lie and say that he was now a changed person, who wholly accepted the idea of good and love and all the humanity.

No, his morality was like that of the Patronus – corporeal, but not steadfastly solid; smoky, but certainly more opaque than a ghost; existent, but only in the presence of happiness, when it suited him.

Long, streamlined body. Thin, pointed face. A long neck and tail. Four short, powerful legs.

Didn't every species need a natural predator? Something to keep them grounded and controlled, something to make sure that the overly ambitious did not get carried away. Something to strike them down when they became too "perfect" – something to remind them that at heart, they were not machines, but humans.

A genius' greatest enemy was himself.

And so wouldn't it make sense that the thing that protected Artemis the most was the thing that held a metaphorical power over his life? Something that might suppress his best, but also his worst. And hopefully it would snuff out this worse side of him before the better, so that one day his vices might die while his strengths might survive, barely there, but enough to rebuild with.

The famed killer of snakes within a house made up of them.

Artemis Fowl's Patronus was a mongoose.

"What do you think of the events that just transpired, Professor Snape?" the boys asked on their last day in the dungeons for the year.

As always, there was a mundane end to what had been an exciting year. Although, the game of Mafia they played with the Gryffindors, courtesy of Blaise and Theodore, after the exams were over, turned out to be rather entertaining. Everyone was so angry when they realized who the perpetrators were, but it was completely worth it.

"I am most disappointed," their teacher confessed. "I wanted the dog to be caught, only to have the rat escape."

The answer would have sounded quite cryptic to an outsider, but the boys knew exactly what he meant.

"Professor Lupin isn't coming back, is he?" Artemis said quietly. It had just been the news that morning. Someone had figured out that their teacher was actually a werewolf – a rather sad ending to a promising year – and ousted him. Artemis felt pity for the poor man – being hated and discriminated against despite one's ability simply because of an incurable disease. Perhaps he could change that one day. For all of her insanity, Opal Koboi really was brilliant, and though her notes did not have anything on werewolves in particular, her theories would still come in handy.

If there was going to be a war, with wizards on both sides, the outcome would be decided by the allies. The border states had been crucial to the eventual victory of the Union in the American Civil War – so unless they did something to convince the "Dark" creatures to join their side, those who were discriminated against would join Voldemort out of hope for a better future. Of course, it was obvious that pureblood supremacy would only bring oppression, but was the status quo really any better?

"No. He is not." Their potions professor's eyes and face were carefully blank – the man was obviously disguising his glee. To have him teach Defense classes the next year would be excellent, as the other man knew what he was doing, but to have him blatantly favor the Slytherins, while thankful in Artemis' case, would not be very helpful at all.

"I hope that next year's teacher will be at least competent," Draco said, looking at Professor Snape hopefully.

"I do, too."

"If not, well, we'll simply be visiting you more often," Theodore said cheerfully.

"Perhaps. Merlin knows that you four are much more helpful than ninety-five percent of the rest of my students. You'd think that after a few hundred years, natural selection would weed out all of the dunderheads, but instead, they seem to have further contaminated the gene pool," Professor Snape responded disgustedly.

"Natural selection?" Draco asked, confused.

Ah. If only wizards knew about science. A good knowledge of genetics should easily knock many of the pureblood supremacists off their pedestals.

Time to go. Another year was over, and they learned as much as they could, and did as much as they could. There were still some loose ends, but those would have to wait.

"The Quidditch World Cup final is this summer. Are you fellows going to go watch it?"

"Oh, definitely!"

"Pretty much, if nothing gets in the way."

They looked to Artemis for an answer. "Possibly. It depends on my parents' schedule," he said at last.

Perhaps they were already used to his cryptic answers or his somewhat antisocial nature, because either way, it was accepted.

"Oh, by the way, I nicked some instructions from the Room of Awesome for making the potion," Blaise said, giving all of them a copy. "That's our secret summer homework – it's preparation for the real thing."

Artemis smiled. "Thank you, Blaise."

"No problem. Hey, maybe we could talk to that Sirius Black person for help – weren't he and his friends Animagi, too?"

"Possibly. I'm not sure if they'll trust Slytherins like us, though."

"Maybe only Artemis should ask. Potter and pals trust him."

"Who, me?"

They all laughed at their new schemes. It would do Professor Snape proud…four mischievous (on a larger scale) boys who were becoming unregistered Animagi – from his house. Retaliation was sweet.

They had loaded all of their things onto the Hogwarts Express and were ready to leave. Artemis and Draco were the last two people standing on the outside, looking back up at the castle grounds. Looming ominously in the distance, the great shadow of their school provided both a comforting protection and a ghostly reminder of their unfinished work. There was still business to be done, and things would definitely become more complicated now that the Dark Lord could return.

How was that even possible, anyway? Voldemort somehow managed to stay alive, even with a backfiring Killing Curse and loss of a physical body. Yet he was not a ghost, for ghosts were simply whole, earthbound souls. Voldemort was definitely still alive and earthbound, even without a body…how did he do it? There must have been something still tethering him to the world of the living, a place where he did not belong.

The more Artemis contemplated the subject, the more discombobulated his mind became. For some reason, the maze of theories in his brain kept coming back to the diary from the year before. The diary definitely had something to do with it – it was like a fragment of Voldemort's past, keeping him chained and imprisoned until confronted with another life force.

He had to figure out what it was. He had to cut off Voldemort's life source.

The Dark Lord would rise again, but Artemis Fowl II was not going to let him reach the top if he had any say in it.

Draco cut into his train of thoughts.

"We should get going now, Artemis," his friend warned. "The train will leave without us."

"I know." Artemis looked up at the Astronomy Tower where he had made his first Patronus. He was planning to tell his friends, but he never got around to it. It might do better, he decided, to tell them the next year. The day was still young, but the dark clouds were looming over the sky, blanketing it in a sea of gray, even though it was June.

Obvious foreshadowing is obvious, Artemis thought. One of the Dark Lord's servants was on the loose – and the Dark Lord would rise again. And it would be up to him, and Harry Potter, to finish that sociopath off for good.

Frowning, he climbed on the train and stared out the window.

Little Hangleton

"My Lord, it would be my greatest wish – "

"Enough. I will not risk another offering a body. Only as a last resort. You would be of more use to me elsewhere."

"Of course, my Lord is most generous and thoughtful – "

"ENOUGH!" he roared, and cursed the man, knowing that nothing short of death would stop his overzealous servant from returning to him. The young man whimpered meekly, and bowed, before scurrying out of the room. That being done with, he turned to face the other occupant in the room.

She stared at him with a look of disgust.

"You want me to help you?" she asked, her lip curling. "Who says I can't just slit your throat right now?"

"Perhaps my appearance does not please you," he said threateningly, pointing his wand at her chest, "but I can assure you that I still have my power. If you do not help me, then I can easily kill you, and find another path to regaining a body. And even if you kill me, I can still return. I have multiple methods. Yours is simply the most beneficial for both of us."

She leaned back with a half-smile. "Keep convincing me."

"You cannot hope to achieve your goals without my assistance. I hear that you were defeated by a mere boy? Tricked, no less!"

Her eyes flashed in anger. "We do not speak of that."

He laughed, a high, cold voice. "Very well then. Help me and I will remain silent."

(White pawn to f4.)

A/N: Ok, I lied. Cordyceps isn't my new boggart, since it only affects insects...at least, for now...if it mutates somehow then we're all doomed.

N. fowleri, on the other hand, is already eating human brains and kills a few poor sods a year. Look it up.

Sweet dreams! :)

Oh, and comment if you just discovered your new boggart. Or, comment if you have a different one that outclasses these.