Book Three: In which Artemis becomes even more badass than he already is. But he still can't run a mile without collapsing.

"1 – 2 – 3 – Legilimens!"

Artemis felt like a spear was diving through his mind.

No! He mentally conjured a large shield, blocking the invader. Putting forth a boring memory of him as a child, listening to Juliet lecture him…he reflected it onto the bronze…

The spear evaporated into smoke, and suddenly the smoke formed into a ghostly horseman, dissolving past the walls that Artemis had formed around his mind. His memory dissipated.

You're not getting away that easily. Artemis formed a maze within his own mind – a colossal maze that ran for miles in four dimensions, whose walls always moved and shifted, with no solution.

The horseman took one look around him, and disappeared.

But Artemis conjured his own weapon – a swirling wind in the shape of an anchor. It attached itself to the horseman, and he was being pulled, back into another mind –

They began battling for control – Artemis' anchor overpowered the horseman, wrapping around him like a boa constrictor, but suddenly he was confronted with a huge structure – a castle of some sort, guarded by a hundred more of the same –

And Artemis snapped back into reality.

"Amazing work. Truly, quite amazing," his father said, shaking his head in awe. "You blocked me, even though I was expecting the guard memory, and nearly got past my defenses that time, too – and it's only August."

"It's just a matter of quick thinking," Artemis said modestly.

"True. But still – it took me several years to get to this level, and you achieved it in less than three months. I have no doubt that you can block just about anyone and get past some lower-level Occlumens, too. A few more weeks and you may even be able to plant false memories – that, in all respects, is exceptional."

"Tell me something, father. Are all people in the family trained this way?"

"Just about. It is a necessary skill that we are trained in. We have many secrets, and to let someone access them…it would be quite devastating."

Two months ago

"Father, you have quite a bit of explaining to do. Let's start with my gift of Parseltongue, for example – a hereditary trait."

His father had sighed, and muttered something along the lines of, "I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this."

Artemis Sr. had then said, instead, "Think about it. Look at our last name."

And so, with plenty of poking and prodding – "But Herpo the Foul was Greek."

"Our ancestors have had plenty of time to migrate and change their name, Artemis. It's all been Anglicized. Why do you think all of our family names have had something to do with Greek mythology?"

Oh. Right.

Herpo the Foul had given the Ollivanders the scale in his wand – the Ollivanders, who have been in business since 300 B.C. Was that what Ollivander had meant? 'Quite the gift of foresight,' was his exact words.

"Hugo de Fole was actually named Hector, but he changed his name to sever his ties to Herpo the Foul. He wasn't exactly someone you would be proud of being descended from – a very dark wizard, he was one of the first Parselmouths, created the first basilisk, and did all sorts of crazy things," Artemis Fowl Sr. explained.

"I wouldn't exactly be proud of this relation, either," Artemis deadpanned. So that voice…well, now everything made some sense…why he had felt such a natural anger towards Riddle the previous year…and why the voice kept calling Riddle a thief. Artemis deduced that somewhere in time, Slytherin's ancestors had managed to acquire the gift of Parseltongue, probably from Herpo the Foul's descendants, hence the disdain.

That thief will pay dearly…in time…

But seeing as Herpo the Foul was long dead, Artemis assumed that the voice was simply a natural part of himself, that he had been born with. A tie to his ancestors, that had been suppressed through generations of denial of the connection, which he had discovered only now.

"Despite the fact that the Fowls have evolved into a less…shall we say, extreme, family, we still carry the trait. And we have to hide it."

"I see."

"Which is why I will teach you Occlumency."

Artemis, naturally, had picked up the skill like a second instinct.

His father had been an amazing teacher – he obviously knew the limits of his son, and pushed them to make up for the years that he had mistaken the prodigy for a Squib – something that exhausted Artemis but also made him eternally grateful.

They had started off with daily, half-hour sessions of meditation, which was easy enough, before Artemis Sr. had determined that his son had been strengthened enough to charge into the next step, which was an actual, hands-on experience.

At first, Artemis had been worried that his father would pick up some memories that he preferred to keep secret – the man was right, Occlumency was a necessary skill – but the other had only grazed the surface, picking up Artemis' lost childhood. Artemis had been forced to re-experience those times, when he had been alone in the large manor with only two Butlers and an insane mother for company.

It had been rather uncomfortable and guilt-inducing for both father and son.

But Artemis learned quickly. At first, his strategy was to shield these memories with other, less significant ones, to buy some time to clear his mind, although the curtain was still somewhat weak. So, when his father began tearing the memory shield aside, he shored up his defenses in return, and pretty soon, was able to shove his father out altogether.

Not only was he able to withstand external invasion of his mind, but also internal pressures. Sometimes he and his father would communicate in Parseltongue, and Artemis was smart enough to know that telling his father about the little voice inside his head every time that happened was not a good idea as it would only provoke heavier surveillance. But thanks to Occlumency, he now not only understood the correct method of controlling his own thoughts, but also the theory behind it. Because of this new knowledge, Artemis was not blindly shoving his subconscious-thing into a flimsy box out of instinctive desperation anymore, but rather, systematically securing it within a fortified vessel.

And thanks to his great mindpower finally shielding the voice correctly, it had not bothered him since.

(Unfortunately, while it was out of sight, it was not completely out of mind…and unbeknownst to him, would continue to fester for years, waiting for a weakness, a mode of escape…)

Artemis Fowl Sr., quite pleased, had then started his son on Legilimency, which turned out to be much easier now that he had gotten the concept down.

"You make Severus Snape look like a novice, and that's saying something."

"As in Professor Snape, the Potions teacher?"

"The very same. One of the greatest Occlumens I have ever seen."

That explained his Head of House's constantly unreadable expression.

"We went to school together – he was a few years younger than me. I was in the same year as Lucius Malfoy – not exactly a peaceful combination."

"I can imagine."

"You seem to get along with his son pretty well."

"Draco is less extreme and stubborn – he's still young; he has not been firmly rooted enough yet and can easily doubt his beliefs. For his sake, I hope that he realizes his father's true nature – he's in denial about the entire Chamber incident still." Artemis thought of his friend. Where was he now? Probably at home, with his father, and mother, and Dobby, trying to ignore it all.

Angeline had been quite pleased, and to help out, she sometimes snuck up on Artemis and did a silent Legilimens when he was least expecting it. It had shocked him the first time his mother had done it, but he never made the mistake of letting his guard down ever again.

As a matter of fact…This could be a new way to battle the fairy mesmer…The reflective sunglasses worked quite well, but it would look utterly ridiculous if one constantly walked around wearing them. Especially indoors.

Artemis grinned.

Besides Legilimency, he had worked on the secret of the diary from his second year over the summer. He hadn't had much time, because this year, there had actually been summer homework assigned (which was a good excuse to perform…other magic at home). It wasn't difficult…just tedious. Artemis had better things to do than read up on goblin rebellions.

There were a few leads, but nothing of great significance. Artemis realized that whatever the diary was, it was probably extremely dark and obscure, to have so little reference to it.

Before he knew it, the owls for the third year had arrived, along with a permission slip to Hogsmeade.

"Don't cause any trouble," his mother had warned, before signing the paper.

"For heaven's sake, Mother, what do you take me for?" Artemis retorted. "That's the Weasley twins' job."

His mother gave him a look. "You know what I mean, Artemis. I know you wouldn't be contented with mere pranks."

"We will need to go to London again," his father remarked, changing the topic. "I'm fairly certain that the old Lockhart books won't be used anymore."

Actually, Artemis still had them. He was using the Lockhart photographs on the back as test subjects for some new spells that he had been trying to invent. So far, he had discovered a hex that would cause one to sprout millions of tiny tentacles and a curse that literally turned someone inside-out (vice versa!), which was such a horrifying spectacle that he immediately found the countercurse (versa vice!) and used it, before burning the book and all evidence that such a thing that occurred, vowing to never use it again.

He supposed that some would find his sense of humor twisted and perverted – but then again, Lockhart did deserve it.

Back to the present

"Why look, Arty, aren't these your friends?" his mother asked, showing him the paper.

Looking at the front page of the Daily Prophet, Artemis realized that his "friends" were on there indeed. Apparently, Arthur Weasley had won some drawing, and the money had funded their trip to Egypt (and a new wand for Ronald Weasley, who had snapped it in an accident with the Whomping Willow the previous year).

All nine Weasleys were smiling up at them – Arthur Weasley and his wife, Molly, and their seven children, listed from oldest to youngest in the caption: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George (or was it George and Fred? Which twin was older, anyway?), Ron, and little Ginny, who, happily enough, seemed to have recovered from the entire Chamber incident. Artemis was acquainted with the youngest five, with whom he had shared his Hogwarts experiences, but Bill and Charlie had already graduated years earlier and were now working.

According to the short article, Bill was a curse-breaker at Gringotts, and brought his family to Egypt because that was where his work had currently taken him. He remembered that Ronald had once mentioned that Charlie was a dragon breeder in Romania, as well. Percy, the arrogant Prefect who took things too seriously, would probably end up working at the Ministry. As for the twins – he didn't know where they would go. They were the complete opposite of Percy; they never took anything seriously.

"Yes, I suppose," Artemis answered.

"What's that thing that the youngest boy is holding?" asked his father, peering at the paper.

"It looks like a rat. An extremely fat, lazy rat with a missing claw," Artemis said.

Fowl Sr. shrugged, choosing not to comment on the topic, although Artemis, even without using Legilimency, could tell that his father was silently commenting on money. Ever since his father's capture and imprisonment in Russia (Karkaroff was still at large, by the way, but Artemis chose to leave to topic alone – for now), the man had been less concerned about gold and more about his family.

However, he loved his family enough to actually make the gold to give them a comfortable enough life – meaning new robes for everyone every year, at the very least. The youngest Weasleys were dressed in hand-me-downs. Not that they cared – they looked cheerful enough.

Diagon Alley

Artemis looked at his book list. Most of them he already had, but – what was that? The Monster Book of Monsters was the last one on the scroll. Shrugging, they walked into the bookstore.

"Hogwarts, right?" the clerk behind the counter asked. Artemis nodded. The frazzled-looking wizard leaned back against the wall and tried to stifle a sob. "Please don't tell me you want The Monster Book of Monsters," he whined.

"What's so awful about it?" his father asked.

The clerk walked over to a cage in the corner with a large cane and pointed. Artemis looked, and was surprised that he hadn't noticed it before. Dozens of large, thick books were in there – and every single one was jumping on top of one another, snapping and biting with their – were those teeth? – and trying to kill each other in general. Two actually teamed up, seized the covers of a third one, and began pulling it apart. Strips of paper were flying everywhere.

"No, no, no, no!" the manager yelled, and poked the cane through the bars of the cage like a lance and fought off the other two books, which immediately turned on each other. He sighed desperately. "We've already lost half of our stock because they keep trying to destroy each other; this is even worse than that time we bought four hundred copies of The Invisible Book of Invisibility and never found a single one." Finally, the poor man managed to wrench a snapping, snarling book free and immediately pounced upon it, binding it with a belt.

"Here you go," he sighed, handing it to Artemis.

Artemis' father cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. "How do you even control it?"

The clerk shrugged and moaned. "How should I know? If you tell me I will worship you for the rest of my life."

The book in Artemis' hands was still growling and struggling. Nervously, he pulled the belt tighter and wrapped it around a second time. He poked it with his wand experimentally. "Have you tried Stunning them?"

The clerk nodded. "We've tried everything – the only thing that can stop them is a nice, strong belt, and we don't have many of them left."

Artemis' stomach turned. Why did they even need this book, of all books, this year?

Leaving the store, they were confronted with a wanted poster of a crazy, haggard looking man.

"What in the world?" Angeline gasped.

"What is it, Mother?" Artemis asked.

"Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban – good lord," his father moaned, reading aloud from the paper. "Security is getting more lax every day."

"The question is, how he would have done so," Angeline said. "The entire place is guarded by an ocean and those Dementors – it's been that way for years."

"Well, if anything happens, we'll be safe," Artemis Senior muttered. "I'd like to see him swim across the Irish Sea."

Angeline rolled her eyes. She kept reading. "Apparently, he was saying 'He's at Hogwarts' before he escaped." She looked at her husband. "You don't think that he meant Harry Potter, do you?"

"I really wish I was wrong, but probably," Artemis Senior sighed. "Well, we can't dawdle like this all day and block traffic. Artemis still needs new Potions supplies and books. Come, Artemis – Artemis?"

Artemis snapped out of his daze. He had been observing the man in the poster. Sirius Black. "He doesn't look too stable."

"Well, that's what you get after living with Dementors for twelve years." Artemis had never experienced the effects of a Dementor first-hand, but from what he had read on them…they didn't sound very nice at all. He hoped that he would never have to see one.

"Nasty things – don't do anything that will force you to be involved with one."

Artemis nodded. He was too smart to get caught, anyway.

"Let's go."