Thanks for all of the lovely reviews guys!

And as promised, here is book 2! Complete with all of the mystery, adventure, and dashes of sarcastic Artemis-style humor present in its predecessors, plus lots more!

"Lovely place. Hasn't changed much even after two years, has it?"

Artemis listened to his father nonchalantly comment on the state of Diagon Alley.

The summer had been quite an eventful one. Artemis had enlisted the help of fairies to rescue his father from Russia, and ever since then, the man had been more cheerful and appreciative of life in general. He also showed less interest in money-making and any sort of illegal financial exploit, showing more concern to the health of his wife and son, instead.

That didn't mean that he had let his sense of self-preservation dull in the least bit, however. On the contrary, his horrifying experiences at the hands of a jealous, vengeful old rival had sharpened his senses (and his sense of humor – every bit as and even a little more sarcastic and morbid as Artemis' own). Artemis Fowl Sr. was now less reckless and more of a chess master, but at least this time, he was one who tried his best to protect all of his pieces.

(Kind of like Artemis in the Transfiguration challenge from the previous school year).

Artemis didn't know if it was simply his happiness at being alive and well, reunited with his family, or if magic had something to do with it. It wasn't as if he could complain. Ever since his father found out that he actually had magic within him – and a great deal of it, too – he had become less distant and formal, and began to behave more warmly.

This was probably what a real, "normal" family felt like, something Artemis was quite thankful for.

Unfortunately, now that his father was determinedly staying on the straight path, it meant that Artemis would have to be more careful.

"During all those years at the hands of Karkaroff, I realized something, Artemis. I realized that money wasn't the most important thing in the world anymore. It gave me a greater appreciation for life. You only live once, and what you learn and who you save is much more important than how much gold you make," his father told him. "From now on, we're going on the straight path. It will give people one less thing to use against us."

(Well, Artemis wouldn't be doing anything illegal – shady, yes – but not illegal – for money anymore…now that he had the Philosopher's Stone.)

"Yes, Father," he had promised.

(But promises were sometimes meant to be broken...)

Now they were back in London, in Diagon Alley, shopping as a family. Maybe not a regular family, but a whole family – and that was as close as it was going to get, with people like the Fowls.

The city was crowded, due to the fact that most other wizarding families (as well as Muggle families who produced magical children) from all over the country were choosing this time of year to do back-to-school shopping for their children, and at this rate, they were not going to get all of the errands done by the end of the day. Artemis Senior still needed a new wand (his old one had been broken during his capture), and Artemis Junior still needed to get all of his books. Which he had a ridiculously large amount of this year.

"Tell you what," his mother said. "We should split up. I'll go stand in line at Flourish and Blotts, and you can join us later after you get your wand."

"Mother, may I go with Father?" Artemis asked politely. "I would like to meet Mr. Ollivander again. There are some things that I must ask him."

Angeline nodded cheerfully. "Just give me the list – I won't be long."

Artemis dutifully handed it over, and together, he and his father set off towards the old wand shop.

Ollivander's wand shop was just as musty and dark as it had been last year. "Mr. Fowl, long time no see," he croaked as they walked through the door.

"Indeed, Mr. Ollivander. Still around, I see?"

Mr. Ollivander threw back his head and laughed – a dry, rasping sound. "You sound disappointed," he teased, still chuckling. "What can I do for you today?"

"A new wand, if you please," Artemis' father said.

"Applewood and dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, quite firm," Ollivander recited. "I remember the day you were that old," he said, gesturing to Artemis. "Does it not suit you?"

"Oh, no, every wand chosen suits the wizard," Fowl Senior said. "Let's just say…I've suffered a rather inconvenient mishap, and my original wand has, for lack of better terms, fallen in action."

Ollivander clicked his tongue. "Always a sad story when the life of a good wand ends in such an untimely manner. But no delay, we shall simply have to fit you with another."

It took only a few tries for Artemis' father to find a new match, mainly because he was an old customer and Ollivander already had an idea of what to give him. "Laurel and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches, quite steadfast." They paid, and were about to leave, but Artemis stopped.

"Mr. Ollivander, I would like to ask you a question," he said.

"Cypress and basilisk scale, thirteen inches, very precise," Ollivander murmured in response. (Artemis did not fail to notice the sudden glance his father shot him when Ollivander mentioned the basilisk scale.)

"Why is wandless magic so much more exhausting for wizards, even though other magical creatures have no need for it?"

Ollivander smiled. "Wands channel magic in a more exact manner than simple, raw power. It is why wizards have one of the most versatile powers on earth compared to that of other creatures. They have the energy within them; they just cannot use it in the same way wizards do."

"But can't a variety of actions be performed even without a wand as well? Young children can do a lot of things before their magic has been tamed," Artemis pointed out.

"Of course, they can, to a certain extent, control it," Ollivander said. "But not completely consciously. Children usually express their magic through emotions and natural instincts, rather than conscious thought. It depends on the nature of the spell. Certain actions are more difficult than others – the most violent forms of magic, when used without a wand, can cause severe exhaustion and even extreme physical harm…"

Ah. So that explained things, then.

Ollivander continued. "…That's why it is inadvisable, young man, if you are attempting to learn on your own."

Too late, though, Mr. Ollivander. You underestimate me. Artemis hid the smirk that was crawling onto his face.

"Very well. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," he said, instead.

As they exited the shop, his father looked at him. "Did Mr. Ollivander say that the core of your wand was a basilisk scale?"

Artemis nodded, unsure where the conversation was leading. His father stopped and looked him in the eye with a piercing stare – it was quite unnerving, because it was almost like staring at his own eyes. And Artemis knew the effect his stares had on people. After what seemed like an eternity, Artemis Fowl Sr. finally relented, and whispered so softly, that even if Diagon Alley had been abandoned, no one would have heard, "There is a dangerous amount of power in you, son. Use it well."

Then, he returned to his normal, jovial demeanor. "We must find your mother, now, there is no use keeping her waiting if we don't want to be on the receiving end of her wrath again." And he quickly walked away, as if he was avoiding the unsaid questions bouncing around in Artemis' mind. And as much as Artemis tried to decipher his father's face, he could not. Artemis was not used to being in the dark about others' thoughts and emotions – reading people was something he was naturally talented at doing, and one of his few forms of recreation.

What was that all about? Artemis thought.

He could have sworn he heard a little voice in his head, saying, Oh, you'll see.

Artemis frowned and shoved the annoying little voice into a box within his memory space, ignoring its vain attempts to break free and resurface. He wasn't going to take any attitude or orders from some shred of stray thoughts.

The street in front of Flourish and Blotts was swarming with people. "Why are there so many people today?" Artemis thought aloud irritably.

"Don't you know?" a teenage girl, slightly older than him, squealed. "Gilderoy Lockhart's having a book signing today!" And she left to join the rowdy mob.

Gilderoy Lockhart? Artemis scanned the crowd, and sure enough, there was a fair-haired man in some extremely outlandishly colored, extravagantly styled robes in the midst of it all. Artemis wanted to throw up – as an advocate of conservative fashions, he felt that no self-respectable wizard would even be caught dead wearing that shade of lavender. Immediately, Artemis lost all potential respect for that man.

That was frightening, Artemis thought, and considering what I've been through the past year and summer alone, that means a lot.

The man began bragging loudly, advertising his various books (all with the most atrocious titles – there could be nothing more cliché than alliteration – Travel with Trolls, honestly!) and boasting of his quite useless titles. As if winning "Most Charming Smile" in Witch Weekly was the ultimate decider for the greatest wizard of all time. "Charming Smile", indeed – that man's cheeky grin was nothing compared to his famous smirk. Vampire smiles could get more people to do what you wanted.

Oh, and of course, Harry Potter's famous face was in the crowd. The poor boy could not escape the lecherous man's grasp. Artemis had long drowned out Lockhart's annoying voice – it was just that bad, almost as bad as Professor Binns' drone and Quirrell's fake stutter – but from the desperate expression on Potter's face, he wanted nothing more than to escape the presence of the man that was simply using his fame to elevate his own. Artemis felt utmost sympathy for him – had he been in Potter's spot, by now, he probably would have surrendered his typically calm and collected demeanor to his nasty temper and given the man a good hex in front of all of the cameras.

All things holy knew Gilderoy Lockhart would have deserved it.

Eventually the boy managed to slink away, extremely defeated and disgruntled.

"Now, where did your mother go?" Artemis' father asked, doing his best to change the topic. The man was purposely doing a lousy job of trying to hide his disgust at the scene that just took place. Just in time, Angeline's face appeared in the door of Flourish and Blotts, and waved for them to come over.

Artemis was feeling extremely claustrophobic as he and his father tried to weave their way through the pandemonium. It was a wonder that his hair had not ended up chaotic like Potter's by the time they reached their intended destination. Artemis frowned and flicked some dust off his otherwise immaculate blazer sleeve, which he had somehow gained from swimming through the sea of people, and began to inspect his perfectly shined shoes for any scuffs in a rather obsessive-compulsive manner.

"You wouldn't believe the trouble I had to go through just to get all of these books!" his mother bawled once they got within speaking distance. Which was not far at all, considering the chaos outside. "Look out there! An entire line of educated women reduced to snivelling, dribbling wrecks over the most awful man in the world!"

Artemis was glad that his mother was intelligent enough to not be a member of that crowd. "Thank Merlin that some people still have common sense within them."

"There, there, Angeline," his father soothed. "The worst is over – now let us leave before we are trampled by that many-headed, ferocious monster called a crowd."

Her nose went in the air, and she pursed her lips disdainfully at the picture of Lockhart on the back cover. She picked the book up and tossed it into the bag. "Some people have no self-respect or decency at all," she sniffed, referring to the flirtatious wink that the photograph had given her.

They were just about to leave when Artemis heard, "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Can't even go into a book shop without making the front page."

Turning his head to the source of the very familiar voice, and what a surprise – Draco Malfoy. Apparently a summer of being under house arrest by his father had put him in a mood bad enough to revert to his bullying.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want it!" a little girl protested. Red hair and freckles – was it another Weasley? Evidently so, for dear Ronald was not too far behind.

"Potter, you've got a girlfriend!" Malfoy sang. How immature. Artemis would have expected better behavior from a fellow Slytherin.

This drew the attention of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, who came sauntering over to Potter's defense. "You again. Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, huh?" Weasley snapped.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop," Draco retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all these," he said, gesturing to the many books that they were carrying.

Ronald, red in the face, leapt at him, but Hermione and Harry held him back. Ronald's little sister (assumedly) was nearly in tears by now. At that point, two older men showed up to join the dispute. Artemis recognized one as Draco's father – the tall blonde man with the stony face that he had seen his first time on the Hogwarts Express. He assumed that the other man – redheaded, freckled, and lanky like his son, was the patriarch of the Weasley clan.

"Someone you know, Artemis?" his father asked.

"Unfortunately," Artemis replied.

He glanced back over to the slowly building ruckus. The two men were glaring at each other by now.

"Arthur Weasley," Mr. Malfoy purred, drawing out the last name derogatorily.

"Lucius," the other returned, in the same, hateful manner.

"Been keeping you busy at the Ministry – but they don't seem to be paying you well for it. What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard, then?" He pulled a book out of the girl's cauldron – it was tattered and used and obviously secondhand – and examined it.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Weasley growled. The two men continued to trade insults. While they were distracted, Artemis made his way over to the other children, standing off to the side and observing the new spectacle that was taking place between the two adults. It could have resembled a sort of fighting match, like those mindless wrestling shows Juliet always liked to watch, with supporters and spectators cheering for each side.

"Artemis!" his mother called, but he ignored her.

"What was that all about?" he asked, confronting Draco. "I thought you were getting better."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably and gestured to his father, who was now arguing loudly with Mr. Weasley, with an apologetic wince.

Artemis nodded, and understood. Still, "You don't have to start riots just to look good in front of him," he muttered.

"What else should I do? I just ran into Potter, a Weasley, and a Mud – Muggle-born. He would be bound to observe my reaction," Draco sighed. "I had to do something to show that he could take an eye off me and trust that I wouldn't go off and 'fraternize with the enemy' or some other phrase resembling that statement. You spend an entire summer with him breathing down your neck and see how well you do." He looked around, and seemed relieved that the people just mentioned were preoccupied with the escalating conflict.

Artemis sighed. He was about to give more advice to his friend, when a loud crash sounded behind him. Artemis jumped around just in time to see Mr. Weasley tackle Mr. Malfoy to the ground. Good lord. Now even the supposedly example-setting adults were acting like immature children. What was this world coming to? Artemis stole a glance at Draco, who seemed uncertain of what his response to the indignity should be.

Artemis' father appeared behind him, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him away from the scuffle. "Stand back, Artemis; you could get hurt." Once they got away from hearing distance, when the others were distracted with the fight in the background, his father lifted his nose and hissed, half-jokingly, half-condescendingly, "Not that I expected any less from a man like Malfoy."

"His son's not that bad, though…" Artemis said, in wary defense of his friend. "Draco grew up with his father's prejudiced influences, but he hasn't been irreversibly molded in that injustice yet. Of course he's afraid of his father's disapproval, but he still manages to behave decently and maturely in front of 'inferior' people when his father's not looking. It's not my place to force him to rebel, but I believe in time he'll choose to become completely independent, like me."

His father looked from Draco to Lucius Malfoy, and then back at Artemis, and breathed in deeply. Artemis Sr.'s eyes fluttered shut. He seemed to look guilty about something. Finally, he relented, and muttered, "I suppose you're right."

Before any major activity could ensue, much to Artemis' disappointment, Hagrid, the gamekeeper, had appeared and pulled the two men apart. Artemis was amused to see the crisp face of Lucius Malfoy disheveled and bloodied. The man stood up angrily and brushed himself off, furiously straightening his robes and fixing his tousled hair.

His father began snickering. "And it's one to zero, on Weasley." (This earned him a light slap from his wife.)

Lucius whipped around, glaring. "You," he hissed.

Artemis watched his father trade the banter. "Me," Artemis Sr. said, lazily lifting an eyebrow. Artemis could see where he had inherited many of his own behavioral traits.

"Thought you were long gone, Fowl," the other sneered.

"I suppose you were wrong, as usual, then," Artemis Senior retorted, enjoying himself very much. Artemis felt his respect for his father grow. Great minds think alike.

"Shut up, blood traitor."

"Touchy, aren't we?"

Lucius Malfoy's face contorted into an ugly scowl. He opened his mouth, likely for another failed insult, but instead, wisely decided to shut it, wrathfully turning back onto the Weasleys. "Here girl," he snarled at the latest Weasley, "Take it – it's the best your father can give you." He thrust the textbook back into the cauldron and swept around arrogantly. "Come, Draco." He pushed himself away from the group and dragged his son after him. Draco stole another glance back at Artemis, and followed his father nervously, as if expecting to be struck at any moment.

The Fowls watched them leave. His father's humored attitude had been replaced with one of absolute contempt. "Did you find him as revolting as I did?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Only because you keep egging him on," Angeline chastised. "I know it's in your nature to tease him, but can't we ever just leave him alone for once?"

Artemis Senior sighed. "Fine. Only for you, Angeline. Next time we run into each other, which is hopefully never, I'll hold my tongue."

Artemis' mother sighed. "I suppose we should leave before things get more awkward. Let's go home, Artemis."

Artemis followed his parents out of the bookstore. But he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going – rather, he was looking at the ragged, dog-eared textbook that Lucius Malfoy had returned to the Weasley girl. It seemed slightly thicker than it was before…

This year was going to be another interesting year, wasn't it?

A/N: Did anyone get the Russell Howard reference? It's from one of his Good News episodes when he was talking about the cute but useless animals.