The Family Name

The Family Name

By Slytherin Tattoo

Chapter 3

'So,' thought Artemis, 'where am I going now? I don't particularly want to join Malfoy in his car, even if I did sort of like Zabini. Should I wander around looking for more Slytherins?'

"Ribbit."

Startled, Artemis looked down. Directly in front of him sat a large green toad. It appeared to be staring at him. Artemis wrinkled his nose.

A boy came bounding out of a compartment two doors along, wailing, "Trevor!"

Artemis raised his eyebrows and pointed down. "This yours?"

The kid's eyes lit up. "Trevor! You found him!"

"I believe he found me." Artemis looked the happy kid up and down as he came rushing over. "Who are you?"

"I'm Neville Longbottom, happy to meet--oh. You're Slytherin." Neville took a step back, clutching the toad precariously.

"You're Gryffindor. Strange, I always heard you people had three heads, but you look normal to me."

Longbottom opened his mouth, then shut it again. He smiled ruefully. "Pleased to meet you. What's your name?"

"Artemis Fowl. Nice toad you have there." Not that he cared about toads.

"Thanks."

A girl stuck her head out of the door Neville had come from. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah, he did," Longbottom replied, skipping off towards her.

She left the compartment and came over.

"You're Granger," Artemis said. "I saw you at the bookstore."

Hermione blushed, remembering the fight there. "Oh. You are?"

"Fowl."

"If you're Slytherin, why have I never seen you before?"

He was already tired of answering that question. "I'm second year, but I was abroad until this summer. Now I'm here."

They examined each other. "I heard you're really smart," he added.

She blinked. "Oh, um, thanks."

"Well, you two have fun. I'm off to find chocolate frogs."

"Try the end of the train. That's where the lady usually stays. But she'll come along from car to car pretty soon."

"Thanks." He gave them a nod and walked on. Eventually he came to a compartment of Slytherin girls about his age. He thought it over, shrugged, and went in.

_____________ ____________

"Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Eva Bole," the black-haired girl finished introducing them. "And I'm Marie Chevalier."

"Charmed," Artemis smiled and made a half-bow, and they giggled.

"You might as well sit down and make yourself comfortable," Bole invited him. They were all examining him with great curiosity.

He sat down in between Parkinson and Bulstrode.

"So. Artemis Fowl," Chevalier began, as she returned to French-braiding Bole's hair. "You're a second-year Slytherin. And you're Irish."

"That's right."

"I love Irish accents," Bulstrode said with a simpering sort of smile.

Artemis scooted slightly farther away from her.

"What were you doing abroad?" Bole asked.

Artemis thought rather quickly. "Studying, business, taking care of family affairs. You know."

"Well," said Parkinson, "you're lucky you found us. We're some of the most popular people in Slytherin."

"Marcus Flint just told me he was the most popular person in Slytherin."

"Oh well, Flint," Bole waved her hand.

"OK, for the second and third years--and I'm sure the first years will feel the same--we are the crowd to be with. For the fourth and fifth, it's Flint's group. The older kids tend to look down on the younger ones," Chevalier told him.

Pansy looked smug. "Well, Malfoy's going to change all that!"

They all looked at her. "How?"

"He's going to be on the Quidditch team this year. As Seeker!" she announced importantly.

"Malfoy?"

"OK. . ." said Bulstrode slowly, "I can see that. He's a good flyer. But he's only second year. Almost no one can get on the team unless they're at least fourth."

"Yeah," Bole frowned. "My brother's a Beater, and he said they had Shugart all lined up to take Higg's place. Shugart's sixth year."

"Oh, well, not that Draco couldn't get in on pure talent, but his dad made a deal with Flint to buy the whole team brand new brooms if he got to be Seeker."

Artemis leaned back in his seat and smirked. "He bought his way in."

Parkinson shifted uncomfortably. "Only because they were too narrow-minded to see his talent."

Artemis and Bole remained unconvinced.

"No, he does fly well," Marie said. "I don't know if he can beat Potter, though."

"You traitor!" Parkinson gasped. "We should throw you out of the House for that!"

"I didn't say I wanted Potter to win," Chevalier protested, hands stilling in her braiding. "I just. . . well. . . you have to admit that Potter is a skilled Seeker, even if we should prefer otherwise."

Parkinson scowled. "Draco will show Harry Potter! Just wait!"

"He's a bit obsessed with Potter, wouldn't you say?" Artemis asked casually. "I think he should just get on with his life."

Pansy and Millicent looked indignant, but Eva and Marie started laughing. "You've met him already?"

"Earlier. And Zabini. I already knew Crabbe and Goyle."

Bole nudged Chevalier. "Blaise Zabini," she sang. The other girls laughed. "She has a crush on him!" Bole told the puzzled Artemis.

"I do not!" Marie blushed furiously.

Artemis half-smiled. "I won't tell." He gallantly changed the subject. "I also met Pucey. He's Irish, too."

"Irishmen are so sexy," Bulstrode sighed, and Artemis moved a little farther away yet.

A knock sounded on the door of their compartment and a woman entered with a large trolley. "Care for anything?"

"Chocolate frogs," Artemis spoke up immediately.

When Draco went looking for Pansy, after the announcement that they would arrive at the castle in 5 minutes, he found her and the other girls eating licorice wands and assorted chocolate treats, and trading frog cards with Fowl.

"Why are you everywhere I go?" Draco asked, staring at Artemis with narrowed eyes.

"We're in the same House and year."

"Of course."

The girls looked back and forth between them curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," they both responded at once. Then they glared a little more.

"We're almost to Hogwarts," said Eva.

"Here we go again," Marie sighed.

"I can't wait to watch you play Quidditch, Draco," smiled Pansy.

"Where are the other guys?" Millicent asked.

"It will be quite interesting sharing a room with you, Fowl," drawled Draco.

"Let the games begin," said Artemis with a shrug.

__________ ___________

They all sat down at the table for the feast. In the bustle, Artemis wound up sitting between Pucey and Zabini, and across from Bulstrode. 'Well,' thought Artemis wryly, 'at least I'm surrounded by Popular People.'

Artemis was intrigued to watch an official Sorting Ceremony. He watched faces to see who was talking to the Hat, and who just sat blankly waiting for a pronouncement.

Fowl listened to the conversations swirling around him. Draco was bragging about his flying skills and how he was going to join the Quidditch team. Flint, on his other side, confirmed this, and Mr. Malfoy's "generous donation of top of the line racing brooms." Nimbus 2001. Better than Potter's.

Everyone in Slytherin seemed just a bit obsessed with hating Harry Potter, which Artemis wondered about, until Crabbe and Goyle explained how the House Cup was taken away from them last year. Then he understood as their bitter accusations of injustice rang out.

Artemis looked over to the Gryffindor table. Potter wasn't there. He nudged Zabini. "Where is he?"

Zabini craned to look. "You're right, he's missing."

Pucey leaned over. "The rumor is, he and that Ronald Weasley flew a Muggle car to school. They were seen."

Artemis and Zabini exchanged looks of disbelief. "That would be rather stupid."

"Yeah, well--what do you expect?"

"And Dumbledore's gone from the dais. I reckon they're being seen to."

Bulstrode smiled. "I hope he's expelled."

"Unlikely. He's Potter, after all," put in Parkinson. "Dumbledore's wonder boy."

The feast eventually ended. They all trailed out to their respective Houses. Most people gathered around in the Common Room before they went up to their dormitories.

Artemis overheard the seventh year Prefects talking in depressed voices. "No expulsion. I just heard from Prof. Snape." She kicked at the door dejectedly. "He had em, but then Dumbledore came along and turned em over to McGonagall."

The boy made a face. "And of course she went easy on them."

"Of course."

Draco had pushed his way over to listen in. "That's so unfair!"

Artemis turned to Zabini. "Why do the Malfoys hate the Weasleys so much?"

"The Weasleys are purebloods, but they've disgraced themselves by associating with Mudbloods and defending Muggles," Zabini replied. He looked over to make sure Draco was still busy ranting to the Prefects. "Whereas Malfoys believe the world would be better if all Mudbloods and Muggles were wiped out." He crossed his arms uncomfortably, playing with his sleeves. "I think blood is important, too, but not to that extent. Purebloods should be top-ranked in the hierarchy, yes, and the only ones allowed in the Ministry and professional Quidditch, but we shouldn't be the only ones allowed to live."

"What do you do with--Mudblood--wizards who are more powerful than pureblooded ones?" Artemis asked, frowning.

Zabini fidgeted a bit more. "There are exceptions to every rule. It doesn't mean anything."

Artemis's eyes narrowed. "A good explanation of the world," he said, "doesn't have that many holes in it."

Zabini looked away.

"Anyway, I'm going to bed. Don't let Malfoy hex me in my sleep, all right?"

Zabini looked back at him again and smiled. "OK."

____________ ___________

The next morning, Artemis stood sleepily in the boys' bathroom, combing his hair in front of the mirror.

Draco casually glided over to stand next to him. "It's no use, Fowl. You'll never look as good as me."

"Your hair's too crispy," he retorted.

A first year at the sink giggled, then gulped and snuck away at Draco's death stare. Zabini came up from the other side. "Crispy. That's a pretty good description." He grinned.

"Who asked you, Blaise?" Draco scowled at him before turning to the mirror.

__________ ___________

Draco felt someone kick him under the table. He dropped his bacon and glared at the person across from him.

"It was an accident, honest," Artemis protested.

Draco was debating kicking him back when the air was split by a deafening voice. All heads swiveled to the Gryffindor table.

"Weasley's got a Howler," Goyle guffawed, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

"What a loser!" Crabbe agreed, laughing, as well.

The plates and silverware were actually rattling, Draco noticed with detachment. His concentration was fixed on the pale redhead he despised. His grin widened as the Howler went on and on.

". . . I GOT THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, HE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE DIED, I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED. . ."

"What's a Howler?"

Draco glanced over to where Chevalier was explaining to Fowl, "It's a magic letter! It speaks. . . obviously. . ."

Apparently, there were a lot of things about the wizarding world Fowl didn't know. Draco wasn't sure how to classify him. Technically, after all, he was a Mudblood, but with all those wizards in his family line, it wasn't exactly like they were complete Muggles. . . huh. Maybe he was a Puremud.

Finally the Howler burst into flames and was silent. For a moment, no one in the hall spoke, then talk resumed as normal.

"It's impossible to be completely unsympathetic to someone with a Howler." Bole put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "It could so easily be you."

"I would never humiliate my child that way," Chevalier stated firmly.

"Well, plenty of parents would."

"Here comes Snape with the schedules," Zabini nodded his chin at the approaching professor. "He looks like he enjoyed Weasley's Howler almost as much as you did, Draco."

Draco sneered a bit, but he was in too good a mood to let Zabini bother him.

"So, what have we got first?" Crabbe looked at his schedule blankly.

"Looks like DADA."

"With Lockhart." Artemis rolled his eyes, low opinion of Lockhart obvious.

The girls were all producing mirrors and hairbrushes and performing beautification charms.

Draco rolled his own eyes. "DADA, History of Magic, Charms, lunch."

"You just stepped on my foot, Malfoy," Artemis said calmly.

Oops. Draco looked up. "Serves you right. You kicked me."

"Oh, fine, whatever."

Crabbe and Goyle looked back and forth between them nervously. "You guys aren't going to just fight all the time, are you?" Crabbe whined petulantly.

"Yeah, cause I thought we'd all be friends," Goyle complained.

Artemis and Draco's gazes locked. "I can be civil."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Civil, eh? "I'm sure if you can, I can."

"I can hear you adding in your mind, 'I can be more civil than you, because I'm naturally superior.'"

"I'm winning already, aren't I?"

"This is very interesting." Bulstrode observed the two of them almost in fascination. "I've never seen anybody but Potter--well, and Weasley--who could get Draco all riled up like this."

Fowl smiled and everyone unconsciously leaned back. "I'm special."

Draco badly wanted to hex him.

____________ ___________

Lockhart was an arrogant, insufferable prat. "Is this what you'll be like when you grow up?" Artemis turned in his seat to whisper to Draco when the professor's back was turned.

Draco was unable to deliver his retort, however, as Lockhart chose that moment to announce and hand out a quiz. Artemis read over the questions, and despite his natural temperament, had to struggle from bursting out laughing. Not all the Slytherins were so successful; he could hear quite a bit of stifled sniggering.

With his keen memory, Artemis knew he could get a perfect score. He remembered from Lockhart's books, for example, that the man's secret ambition was to rid the world of evil and market his own line of hair care products, that his favorite color was plum, that his birthday was September 14--but he certainly wasn't going to answer them all correctly! They'd think he was like one of those love-sick girls. Ugh! He carefully doled out his responses.

When they were all done, Lockhart looked quite pleased as he read over their answers. "Some of you have done very well, indeed! In fact. . . Miss Pansy Parkinson only missed two of the fifty-four questions. Where is Miss Parkinson?"

They all turned to stare at her. She was very red, but she raised her hand gracefully.

"Excellent! Ten points to Slytherin! That's what I like to see from my students! Now, on to business!"

Artemis heard Draco taunting Pansy, behind him. "Excellent work, indeed, Miss Parkinson. And just how is it that you know so much about our dear Professor Lockhart, hm? Fancy him, do you?"

"Quiet," she hissed. "Pay attention!"

Artemis breathed in a silent sigh of relief that he'd followed his instincts. Sometimes a perfect memory was a curse.

Meanwhile, Lockhart was yanking the cover off a cage of. . . small, blue winged things. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies!" The pixies immediately began jabbering, bouncing against the bars, and making faces.

'Holly would have a fit,' Artemis thought. 'She'd blow away Lockhart, too.' He found the thought oddly cheering.

The class stared at the pixies, unimpressed. "They're not very dangerous, are they?" Bole scoffed.

"You think not? What if I were to open this cage then, hm? What would you do?"

"Have my father fire you if any harm came to me," replied Malfoy in his drawling voice. "He's on the Board of Governors, you know."

Lockhart paled and swallowed. Then he valiantly rallied. "Let harm come to my students? Never! That's why they're safely sealed away--for your protection! We're just going to imagine they're loose while I teach you the repelling charm!" He smiled brightly. "Now, repeat after me. . ."