Disclaimer: I have no ownership of Artemis Fowl, his mother, or any other characters mentioned in this short compilation. If I did, I would be on the way to making the nineth movie!

Artemis Fowl's Diary: Disc 3 (Encrypted.)

After many successful years of my adventures, legal or illegal, magical or mischievous, with the influence of the Butlers, my parents and of course, the Fairy folk, (if I may be perfectly frank, it was more like pestering than influence,) I have finally decided to become legitimate. Yes, no more kidnapping fairies, no more adventures in the arctic, no more selling fairy technology to the highest bidder.

No, my ventures must be completely above the level now, as my every move is being watched, most likely by Foaly and his miniscule cameras planted about my bedroom and, indeed, all around the house. I happen to know about these because I have recently developed a software program to detect bugs in just about any form; electronically, mechanical, or even organic, as I found when I happened to step upon an ant while getting out of the Fowl Bentley. Alarms went off and Butler, being Butler, tried to drag me down behind the Bentley and shield me from what he probably assumed was an air raid.

Upon explaining to him that my life was not in danger and that it was simply an ant that had caused him to panic so, he almost glowered at me. I could see it in his eyes. Replaying that afternoon now, in my head, I have the almost undignified urge to chuckle. Shocking.

My head has been a bit sore of late. Juliet says it's my genius plans trying to get out. I certainly hope not. Holly, what little I see of her, has suggested that a certain multiple personality which I will not name, is trying to make himself known again. This is a more horrifying thought than my genius plans getting a life of their own! Speaking of Holly, (and I find myself doing this more and more often,) she is scheduled to have a vacation in three days. I only know this because Juliet has been twittering about it all week. Apparently she and Holly have been booked at an expensive spa in Black-rock for three whole days. I can only hope she doesn't charge it to our account.

Becoming legitimate has considerably dried up my funds. Make no mistake, I still enjoy the privilege of being a member of the wealthiest Irish family, but now, the Fowls are geared to more tasteful and, (I shudder slightly,) less profitable ventures. For the past few months I have also had the misfortune to be the subject of dreams, (an unlikely occurrence, whatever my standings.) These dreams take the shape of scenes from my childhood. I can tell you, I was mildly shocked when they first appeared. It was on a Tuesday night, while I dozed at my computer.

The dream began in a most horrifying fashion: me, watching me. It was a younger me, sitting in a deep red leather armchair, about ten, I think. I was busy typing on the computer for something. suddenly, the door opened and I found myself looking at a ghost. Or, it might as well have been. It was my mother, but I recognized the lucid state she was in as the first signs of her depression. The younger me didn't even look up.

"Ah, Arty my boy, so that's where you've been hiding. Come over here and give mommy a hug."

The younger me scowled. "Mother, please leave. I'm trying to sort out these accounts."

Mother dropped her outstretched arms and said, "Very well Arty. But, do you know where your father is, love? I can't seem to find him anywhere. has he gone off on one of his business trips and forgotten to tell his dear Angeline?" She spoke in a dreamy way. Like she was hypnotized, but I was certain there was nothing in the room that could hypnotize anybody.

"Mother, we've been over this before: father's ship went down. we got the news yesterday." Ah, now I remember. it was three days after the Fowl Star had sunk; the three most miserable days of my life. (Although climbing up the titanium sewage pipe to break in to Koboi Laboratories and spending three days spouting poetry to Holly are close runners up.)

Mother blinked. "But, Arty-"

"Mother, please remove yourself. You are making a spectacle." I shudder at the coldness in my voice.

Mother suddenly blanched. "You're not my little Arty. My little Arty is wonderful boy who loves his mother and father! Not some cold, detestable child. you're an imposter! Butler! BUTLER!"

Mother started screaming and in a second, Butler was there, holding a Sig Sauer in both hands.

"Madam Fowl, what's wrong?"

"Oh Butler, there's an imposter in my house! He tried to make me think he was my little Arty, but I'm too clever for that! Please remove him from my sight!"

Butler looked at the younger me, then at Mother. "Madam,"

"Butler," the younger me said, jumping in. He- I, was decisively calm. "Mother is suffering from a huge amount of stress right now, and that kind of stress can impair the brain. She most likely has adopted this imposter theory so as not to confront the real problem: the mess father left behind. A mess which I, luckily, am trying to clean up. Be so good as to remove her from the vicinity."

"You see!" Mother said, jumping at the chance. "MY little arty would not speak in such a manner. Ordering you around like you're some kind of manservant!"

That did it. "Butler, please." I said through clenched teeth. "You can see how the stress of losing father has effected her mind. Please, remove her."

Mother glowered at me. "He is the imposter! Sitting in that chair like that, thinking he's my little Arty, or even Arty's father! Yes, that's it! You thought you could come in here and take over the Fowl estate! Well, not while I'm still breathing, sonny! Butler, take care of this imposter."

"Butler," The younger me warned.

Butler gave me a glance, then he looked at mother. "Madam Fowl, I will dispatch this imposter immediately. Why don't you go on up to your room and have a nice long rest."

Looking back on it, I could've sworn Butler's words were laced with Mesmer! Bah. No matter.

I, the younger I, (this is getting tiresome.) I sat there for a few moments, listening to the sound of footsteps in the hall and up the stairs, to mother's second landing room. The door closed and in under a minute, Butler was back, standing in the doorway.

The younger me walked up to him and said authoritatively, "Butler, as my father is now gone, I am the head of the Fowl empire and as such, it is my duty to keep this estate running financially. To do that, I need silence when I'm working. In short, Butler, The next time I give you an order I will expect it to be followed immediately."

Then the younger me stormed out of the office, leaving Butler looking amazed, confused, and even a little sad. I know now that the sadness was not of my orchestration, but more out of Butler's sympathy towards me.

Then the dream ended and I woke, sweating through my silk pajamas and urgently needing to go to the bathroom.