Artemis walked slowly into the concrete wall, ignoring the stares of a few Muggleborn first years who were cautious about their entry. He had taken a portkey here, after a formal goodbye to his mother and father. Personal emotions weren't very important to him, and to be honest, Art wouldn't miss them much. His trunk shrunken and his eyes examining the familiar train with an emotion similar to fondness and relief, Artemis began his usual business.
10 minutes Later
"...Wingardium Leviosa..."
Sharp crimson orbs rested calmly on the large assortment of black feathers. In one small, almost unnoticeable flick of his wrist, Artemis allowed his magic - calm, controlled, and fearfully precise - to blast out of his wand in invisible tendrils. As soon as the spell was uttered in his sharp, British dialect, the feathers blasted swiftly, yet beautifully into the air, filling the compartment with a lovely cascade. Artemis flicked his wand in complicated patterns, and the feathers followed in a neat row, making letters and art by the direction of the wand's master. Once he was satisfied, Art allowed his wand to slide into it's compartment, located in the boy's Hogwarts sleeves, while the feathers continued to drift through the air, seemingly on their own accord.
"Wingardium Leviosa...progressing impressively..." He wrote in his notebook, opting to use an ink pen instead of an annoying, messy quill. Once he checked that particular spell off, Artemis sighed softly, resting his curly-haired head against the soft leather seats of his empty compartment room. It had only been 10 minutes since he had entered the Hogwart Express, and the Slytherin was looking forward to this particular school year. He had spent the last two years adding to his spell repetoire, and he was finally beginning to master them one by one. Practice makes perfect, after all.
"Diffindo..." In a flash, Art's wand was out once more, the black wood held tersely, yet securely in his pale hands. This was his favorite spell, after reading about it in the library back in his first year. With practiced ease, Artemis twirled his wand between his nimble fingers before doing a series of swift, yet subtle slashing motions through the air, all the while focusing his crimson orbs on the floating feathers.
"Heh..."
Precise, clean-cut pieces of black feather floated into a neat pile inside of the compartment's waste bin. Artemis allowed a smirk befitting of a Slytherin to form on his face before taking out his notes and scribbling neatly into it's word-filled pages.