Chapter Text

“The champion for Durmstrang,” Headmaster Dumbledore read, in a strong clear voice, “will be Nico di Angelo.”

Nico froze. Everyone from Durmstrang turned to stare incredulously. He felt their gaze crawling on his skin, and could hear the polite claps of the other schools dying down as nothing happened. Nico couldn’t move.

If this is how Hecate decides to exact her revenge I swear to the gods-

“Nico di Angelo” Dumbledore repeated his name.

“Come on, my boy.” Headmaster Karkaroff urged.

Shakily Nico pushed himself onto his feet and stumbled towards Dumbledore to collect the paper he held out. Whispers followed wake as people took in his scrawny young form, some forgoing any subtlety and yelling out things like, “the goblet must be broken!”, “he’s the best Durmstrang has to offer?”, “my ten year old brother is bigger than him!”, “how old is he?”, and one weird but distinct, “we got beards trying to get in but he’s fine? That’s rubbish!”

The voices cut off as Nico stepped into the small side room Dumbledore had directed the champions to enter. Robotically he sat down on one of the plush armchairs by the fire and twisted the ring on his finger.

Nico had not placed his name in the Goblet of Fire. He was not an idiot and had no interest in inviting another chance to die into his life. Gods knew the war with Kronos was bad enough.

In fact the only reason he was on this trip was because Karkaroff wanted to brag about how good his school was that he had both a famous Quidditch player and a student “blessed by Lady Magic”. Which really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Nico wished it was something cool or special, in reality Hecate hated him with a passion after he had joined most of the Underworld minor gods in their yearly poker game and beaten a good number, including her.

It was Minos’ idea to get his Stygian Sword after Nico admitted he didn’t have many skills other than the games he had been playing for the past seventy years. He was lucky most gods enjoyed poker and tended to bet on artifacts and favors. The Lotus Casino was useful for something apparently.

Still, while most of the gods thought it was a good laugh when he kicked their butts (underworld gods were so cool) Hecate had given him the ability to do magic and then promised that one day he would regret his impertinence. Whatever that word meant, Nico wasn’t quite sure. He didn’t have a thesaurus and had never cared to learn the exact definition of the word that surely meant a gruesome disfigurement and death someday. Zeus probably wouldn’t let him live long enough for Hecate’s revenge anyway.

Though the goddess did still get him into Durmstrang when his father got tired of him hanging around in the Underworld last year and complained to his daughter. So she either changed her mind or thought something in her world would kill him. With his current predicament the latter seemed much more likely.  

However, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it might be his fault. He had started a business where he put people's names in the Goblet for money or favors. It took a while for people to believe him, but after he crossed the age line in front of enough people (if he is going to have to deal with living in a new century, he will certainly use it to his benefit), his business had actually started booming, he had people from all schools buying. Nico had no idea of entering your name more than once actually did anything but it certainly made him heaps of cash.

So something could have gone wrong there, or it could be a mix of both, or even something completely different he had screwed up on. He had the standard demigod luck that came with the package after all.

The door opened with a creak and Nico’s head snapped towards the door. It looks like the champion for Beauxbatons had been chosen, that one part veela girl. The one that everyone fawned over but no matter how hard Nico tried he just couldn’t seem to muster up any affection over then an admiration over how cutting her words could be when she tore into an admirer for getting too close.

“How did you get your name in ze Goblet of Fire?”

em>Well she wastes no time.

“I didn’t.” Nico replied.

“I am not an idiot. Your name came out so you put your name in. How did you do zhat?” Fleur Delcour pinned him under her gaze and despite having faced down his furious father before, Nico struggled not to cower in his seat and spill everything about how he got past the age line. Instead he did his best to embody Bianca when she didn’t want to get in trouble with an authority figure. He met Fleur’s eyes, gave an artful shrug, and repeated, “I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I’m sure this is some kind of misunderstanding.”

Fleur gave him a mistrustful look but was thankfully distracted by the Hogwarts champion walking in. The tall incredibly attractive boy, Nico thought he was a Hufflepuff but the Hogwarts houses confused him, sauntered right up to him and asked, “How old are you? You’re smaller than a gnome.”

Nico's face must have shown an amusing mix of shock, annoyance, confusion, and embarrassment because Fleur snorted softly into her cup, and where in Hades’ name did her drink come from? Is this the French equivalent of Americans wanting popcorn in entertaining situations?

“Sorry, it's just you definitely aren’t old enough to get past the age line.”        

“Maybe ‘e is just ze best Durmstrang had to offer.” Fleur laughed.

Nico ignored her. Something was wrong. He tilted his head and listened.

“Hey, kiddo? What are you doing?”

“Maybe ‘e is just crazy. ‘E put his name in so young, after all.”

Nico shushed them.

“Excuse me!” Fleur looked outraged.

“Do you hear that?” Nico asked.

“Hear what?” The Hufflepuff was starting to look uncomfortable.

“The Great Hall. They sound angry.”

The two older students finally did then shut up and Nico could hear it clearly now. Angry yells sounded through the thick castle walls, before a booming voice silenced them.

The Hufflepuff looked confused. “Yeah that almost sounded like-”

The door to the room opened and a short boy with messy hair walked in. He definitely wasn’t seventeen so he couldn’t be Nico’s replacement, much to his chagrin.

“What is it?” Fleur demanded. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

The boy's mouth opened and closed like a particularly pathetic fish. He looked like that one kid who got claimed in Nico’s first summer at camp, but the boy had been claimed by a goddess instead of a god like he had been expecting.

Ludo Bagman thundered into the room after the fish-faced boy.

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing the boy’s arm despite his obvious discomfort. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen . . . lady,” he added, coming closer to the group. “May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth Triwizard champion?”

The Hufflepuff looked between Nico and the other boy. “So how many of the rules of the Tournament have already been broken? Any more we should know about?”

Fleur on the other hand, tossed her hair and gave a very thin smile. “Oh, very funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

Nico wasn’t sure he trusted a thing the Goblet did at this point.

“But evidently zair ’as been a mistake,” Fleur said pointedly to Bagman. “ ’E cannot compete. ’E is too young. Zeir both too young.” She motioned at Nico.

“Yes, well-” Bagman started loosening his tie ever so slightly as he gulped. ““But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet . . . I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage. . . . It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged . . . Harry will just have to do the best he —”

Nico felt remarkably ignored. Surely Bagman’s mumbling could not be trusted. Nico didn’t put his name in. He had too much to do. Hogwarts was supposed to have one of the best libraries of wizarding literature in the world. He might be able to find something to get his missing memories back. It was a small chance, but one he had been ready to spend all year searching over. Excited even, despite the many headaches that were sure to come.

The door opened again and a group of people consisting of the headmasters, Mr. Crouch, and three other adults Nico didn’t recognize shoving themselves through the door.

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur, moving over to stand by her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zes little boys are to compete also!”  

Nico saw a sliver of annoyance break through Harry’s persisting shock.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she demanded. Nico could see a firm resemblance and wondered if somehow Fleur and Madame Maxine had any relation.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Headmaster Karkaroff. His smile was even colder than usual, his blue eyes reminding Nico of when Percy was well and truly pissed. Nico repressed a shudder. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?” He gave his signature insulting laugh. One that said you were clearly below him, and how could you possibly forget your place?

“Zhat is not even the worst of it. Two underage champions! I thought your age line would keep them out Dumbly-dorr!” Protested Madame Maxime, glaring at Nico before shifting her furious gaze towards Harry.

“Nico may very well be a special circumstance.” Karkaroff motioned for Nico to join him, a  quick jerk of his wrist and a pointed gaze. Obediently Nico left his comfortable chair and went over to his Headmaster, trying to ignore how small he felt in the midst of all the adults. Even Harry, who couldn’t be all that much older than him, felt like he towered over Nico.

Karkaroff’s hand curled around Nico’s upper arm. “Nico here was blessed by Lady Magic herself.”

“Now is not the time to brag, Karkaroff.” Drawled one of the three adults Nico didn’t know. He had greasy black hair hanging down to the tips of his ears, and he wore all black. “As for the matter of Potter, don't go blaming Dumbledore for the boy’s determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —”

“Thank you, Severus,” Dumbledore silenced him and turned his attention towards Harry.

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asked calmly. Nico was impressed by Dumbledore’s composer. If someone from Durmstrang had humiliated Headmaster Karkaroff so badly they would have detention for the rest of the year, if they weren’t expelled outright.

“No,” the boy said. Nico raised an eyebrow. Was that seriously going to be it?

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” asked the Headmaster.

 “No,” said Harry firmly.

“Ah, but of course ’e is lying!” cried Madame Maxime.

“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” said one of the adults Nico didn’t recognize. She looked stern and worried. “I am sure we are all agreed on that —”

“Dumbly-dorr must ’ave made a mistake wiz ze line,” said Madame Maxime, drawing herself up to her impressive full height. “As air are two underage champions!” a

“It is possible, of course,” said Dumbledore politely

 “Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!” the woman said angrily “Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else!” Nico was sure that accent was Scottish. No one could do angry like a Scottish person.

 “Mr. Crouch . . . Mr. Bagman,” said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, “you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that four champions are most irregular?” Bagman, sweating by now, looked towards the final judge, Mr. Crouch.

“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

 “Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

“Wait!” Everyone turned towards Nico and he felt his face flush. “But if he has to compete and he didn’t put his name in, what about me?”

“You are bound by the same rules that Mr. Potter is.” Mr. Crouch stated, sounding bored as stating the date and not the fate of Nico’s life,

“Are you saying you didn’t put your name in Mr. di Angelo?” The angry Scottish woman asked softly. Which geeze, Nico wasn’t ten he didn’t need to be talked to like a child.

He settled for nodding.

“Ez is probably lying just like the Potter boy!” Madame Maxine interjected.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about a boy running a business to get people’s name in the cup.” The final adult Nico didn’t know spoke up. Nico had almost forgotten about him, blended into the shadows as he was. He had a creepy prothetic eye that flicked all over the room. When it turned to face him, Nico felt as though it was peeling back layers of his skin, one by one.

“Well sure, I’ll admit that, but I didn’t put my name in.”

The room emerged into an uproar.

“So ze age line really is broken!” Madam Maxine cried.

“That’s not possible.” The Scottish woman stated. “Not for a student so young, no matter how powerful!”

“And how did you go about doing that?” The man Dumbledore called Severus asked icily.

Now it was Nico’s turn to be a fish. He had two choices, tell the truth, or pull a Percy. Neither option was particularly appealing.

“It does not matter how he did it. If he wrote the students' names down, they would contain his magical signature and not the other student. Therefore the contract applies.” Mr. Crouch stated.      

Nico…Nico did not know that.

Nico could feel what little color he had drain from his face. He locked his knees so they wouldn’t shake. “What are the consequences for not competing?” He asked quietly. He wasn’t ready to die. He just wanted a little more time.

His words put the room in a state of shock.

Madame Maxine and Fleur gasped dramatically, the Hufflepuff boy took a physical step back, Bagman put a hand to his chest and started hyperventilating, and Karkaroff’s hand squeezed so firmly Nico was worried it might bruise.

“Why would you ever ask that, dear boy?” His headmaster asked him.

“I want to make it to thirteen.” Nico deadpanned, forgetting that he probably shouldn’t talk that way to authority figures. He wasn’t Percy Jackson. Unfortunately. He would love the chance to scream to Zeus for everything he had done.

“The penalty for breaking a magical contract is the loss of one's magic.” Mr. Crouch sounded bor

“You cannot seriously be thinking about that, dear boy!” Bagman all but shouted.

“He will compete.” Karkaroff said firmly.

“Headmaster-” Nico started.

Karkaroff leaned down and spoke directly into Nico’s ear, his breath hot and harsh. “You have nowhere else to go and I am the only one charged with your wellbeing. I have authority to make any legal decisions for you and you will compete, do you understand me?” Karkaroff’s voice was dangerously cold.

Nico understood that if he didn’t have his magic he would be thrown out of Durmstrang and left to fend for himself. Nico couldn’t bum off his father in the Underworld, the man had made that clear and he didn’t particularly care to live on the streets again, especially without Minos. For all the ghost hated him, he also needed him alive.

Nico turned his head and made eye contact with Karkaroff. It wasn’t like he didn’t have experience looking monsters in the eye, or being civil with people who would be happy to kill him as soon as he outlived his usefulness.

He nodded.

“Now wait just a minute, if Mr. di Angelo doesn’t…if he doesn’t want to compete then-”

Karkaroff cut off the Scottish woman. Nico should really learn her name, especially if she stuck her neck out to defend him. “Good now Crouch if you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured for Mr. Crouch to speak.

Nico ignored a few stray shocked and pitying looks of everyone in the room as Crouch began to detail the rules of the tournament.

“The first task is designed to test your daring,” he said to all four champions, “so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard . . . very important. . . . The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.” Mr. Crouch dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief as he spoke.

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.” The judge shifted on his feet as he listened off the rules.

At least he wouldn’t have to do exams. That actually might be worth the whole death tournament actually. Exams were downright awful.

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. “I think that’s all, is it Albus?”

 “I think so,” said Dumbledore, who seemed to be looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?”

“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,” said Mr. Crouch. “It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. . . . I’ve left young Weatherby in charge. . . . Very enthusiastic . . . a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told. . . .” Nico thought Mr. Crouch had to be sick. He had the impression the judge was supposed to be more put together.

 “You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?” said Dumbledore.

“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!” said Bagman brightly. “It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!”

“I think not, Ludo,” said Crouch sharply.  

“Professor Karkaroff — Madame Maxime — a nightcap?” said Dumbledore. But Madame Maxime was already herding Fleur out of the room.

Karkaroff gripped both of Nico’s shoulders and steered him out of the room. Nico didn’t look back, just took a deep breath and internalized the fact that he might very well die not as expected from his demigod heritage, but from some stupid idea of his fathers to keep him busy.

***** /p>

The three schools had conflicting reactions to Nico being the Durmstrang champion. Some, like Fleur, made fun of Durmstrang for the Goblet of Fire, apparently choosing him out of everyone, others looked at him with pity. Some like the people whose names he had put in the Goblet looked at him with envy and anger.

Though Nico thought he should feel grateful. He was much better off than any other champion, just like before no one talked to him, either too off put by his reputation of being blessed by Hecate or due to his own demeanor. Nico knew he looked scary despite being so young, but maybe that was just something that came with the territory, his father being who he was. Or really his stepmother being who she was. Nico never wanted to meet her again, he still wanted to vomit when he saw dandelions.

Nico walked past yet another Potter Stinks! Badge on his way to the second floor of the castle. Apparently there was going to be a wand weighing ceremony he had to attend, along with photographs for the daily prophet.

Why anyone would want to read about a group of teens fighting for their lives in a death tournament, Nico didn’t understand. It reminded him of a book that Bianca had read at the military academy, The Hunger Games. 

But then again, what did the gods watch on Hephaestus T.V.? And weren’t they supposed to be a reflection of humanity?

Nico was turning the corner after climbing the stairs (and seriously what was the purpose of making them move?), when he ran face first into Albus Dumbldore.

“Well hello to you too Mr. di Angelo,” the headmaster greeted, “having a good day?”

“Uh.” Nico said intelligently. He really was turning into Percy. But in his defense the headmaster came out of nowhere. “Sorry sir, I didn’t see you.”

“Oh it’s quite alright my boy. You looked rather engrossed in your mind, and I find that's never a bad thing.”

 Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eye as he motioned for Nico to walk with him and he found himself wondering how the man  kept that up to the point that it was so intertwined with peoples images of him that even Nico himself had heard it as one of the main descriptors for the headmaster.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The headmaster asked, before putting a finger to his chin. “Although I find myself lacking a penny at the moment so I’ll have to hope a lemon drop will suffice.” He said as he held out a piece of candy. Numbly Nico took it and mumbled his thanks.

Was Dumbledore senile? Why would he ask after a rival champion? Better stay diplomatic.

“I don’t really remember. Just lost in thought, I guess.”

“Hmm, well if you ever remember my office is always open. Or if you just wanted a chat.” Dumbledore turned towards him and smiled. “It can get rather lonely up there.”

Now Nico wasn’t a naive kid anymore. He could recognize blatant manipulation tactics. Dumbeldore must want something from him and it would probably be best to ignore it. Still once he got past the initial annoyance that seemed to spring up whenever anyone spoke to him these days, the offer lit a warm echo in his chest. It faded fast, but it was nice while it lasted.

“Of course sir.” Nico nodded dutifully.

“Ah, well looks like we are here,” Dumbledore said, pushing open the door to the room Nico was probably supposed to be in several minutes ago. He muttered another quiet “Thank you” to Dumbledore for holding open the door. It was mostly out of the reflexes his mother and later Bianca had drilled into him. The thought of his late sister sent an old pang of grief and rage through his heart but he was nothing if not practiced at ignoring his emotions. He couldn’t very well get into a fight at Durmstrang every day.

Nico surveyed the classroom that had been repurposed for today. It was fairly small, desks cluttered in the corners, with the exception of three joined together and draped in velvet to make a fancy looking table. Five chairs sat behind them, four of them filled with the judges. Headmaster Karkaroff gave him a suspicious look which told Nico that he would be recounting every detail of his encounter with Dumbledore to the man later.

Fleur and the Hufflepuff champion Nico had discovered whose name Cedric Diggory were politely discussing something or other. He was debating whether to at least try to join them when a loud indigent voice sounded from the walls.

“I have NOT got tears in my eyes!” a voice called. Now that Nico was looking he could see a broom cupboard where the owner of the voice was presumably located. Why the fourth champion, and Nico was pretty sure that was Harry’s voice, was in a broom cupboard, Nico wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He stuck his nose in a lot of people’s business but he was sure he could muster up the strength to stay out of this one.

Dumbledore strode over to the cupboard and yanked the door open before staring down at its inhabitants. Nico leaned around him to take a peek and saw an adult woman squashed inside with Harry Potter before leaning against the wall to watch the show. Sue him, he was curious. Besides, the woman looked like the reporter Karkaroff warned him to stay away from at risk of bad press.

“Dumbledore!” cried the woman, “How are you?” she asked, standing up and almost hitting her head on the cupboards low ceiling before remembering to duck at the last minute.

“I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?” The woman blabbered on as if she hadn’t been caught shoving a child into a closet to satisfy her curiosity. Although, why was a broom closet even in a classroom in the first place?

 “Enchantingly nasty,” said Dumbledore, “I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.” Nico held back a snort, almost too absorbed in the drama to notice Cedric reaching out to try and poke him in the shoulder.

His good mood evaporated and he caught the finger. “Do not touch me Diggory.” And Geez Louise Nico knew he was intimidating but Cedric looked like he was resisting the urge to jump. Nico let go of his finger with a final warning glare before turning back to the commotion on the other side of the room.

“Woah, kiddo. I was just going to ask why you came in with Professor Dumbledore.”

“Ran into him coming up the stairs.” Nico spoke out of the corner of his mouth, already fed up with the conversation.

“Oookay then.” Cedric said, stepping away and stage whispering to Fleur, “He’s almost as prickly as you are.”

Nico was about to glare at him again when he realized that Dumbledore had taken his seat at the table and was beginning to talk. “May I introduce Mr. Ollivander? He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

A wrinkly old man previously shrouded in shadows emerged. He looked even older than Nico’s chronological age,  with his papery white skin and hair.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” said Mr. Ollivander. Fleur handed over her hand with great care. “Hmmm . . .” the man said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers until it emitted a number of pretty pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. Nico felt as though he was watching something sacred. Or maybe just something everyone else was creeped out by given the complete silence of everyone else. Nico wasn’t sure, he never was good at reading a room.

“Yes,” he said quietly, “nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me . . .”

“A hair from ze head of a veela,” said Fleur. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, “yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands . . . however, to each his own, and if this suits you . . .” Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, likely to check for scratches or bumps; before muttering, “Orchideous!”. A small bouquet of flowers emerged from the tip.

“Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,” said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand.

“Mr. Diggory, you next.” Diggory handed his wand over with just a touch less protectiveness as Fleur. “Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?” said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand.

 “Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn . . . must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches . . . ash . . . pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition. . . . You treat it regularly?”

 “Polished it last night,” said Cedric, grinning.

Wands were supposed to be polished? Why had no one ever told him? Oh right, he never talks to anyone. Yeah, that would do it. Where was he even supposed to get wand polish?

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, “Mr. di Angelo, if you please.”

Nico grabbed his wand out of his pocket and handed it over like he would a sword out of courtesy. The tip on either could kill someone, it was just polite.

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, “this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . however . . .” He lifted the wand closer to his eyes, similar to how he had examined Fleur’s. “Yes . . . cypress and dragon heartstring?” he asked Nico. He nodded.

 “Rather odd combination . . . springy . . . exactly eleven inches . . . Avis!” His wand let out a noise like a firecracker before songbirds burst from its tip.

“Good,” said Mr. Ollivander, handing Nico back his wand. “Which leaves . . . Mr. Potter.” Harry handed over his wand without ceremony.

 “Aaaah, yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.” The old wizard spent a surprisingly long amount of time looking at Harry’s wand, far longer than anyone else. Nico was getting antsy, shifting his weight between his feet and fiddling with his blood red robes just for something to do.

Finally, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of the wand and declared it in perfect condition.

“Thank you all,” said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end —”

Nico couldn’t believe it, he was about to escape photos! Suck that demigod luck.

“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” cried Bagman excitedly.

Applesauce he hated demigod luck. He was terribly unphotogenic and he did not want another talk from Karkaroff about representing his school.

“All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”

 “Er — yes, let’s do those first,” said the reporter, whose eyes were upon Harry before flicking to Nico. She looked hungry in the same way those dracaenae looked in the Labyrinth.. “And then perhaps some individual shots.”

The photographs took a long time. Too long. Fleur’s headmistress was so tall that she cast everyone into shadow no matter where she stood and the classroom was rather small so it was hard to get all of her into the frame. Finally she ended up being ordered to sit while everyone else stood.

Nico’s own headmaster kept obsessing over his appearance, twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl, but when he wasn’t doing that he was fussing over Nico’s appearance and trying to force him into the front. Unfortunately he ended up in the front with Harry due to being almost a foot shorter than Cedric and Fleur, not to mention the judges.

Is it a wizarding thing for all of them to be tall or is Nico just unlucky?

Then, when Nico thought the torture was finally over, that vile woman insisted on individual portraits. Nico was too old by now to cry over stupid things, but a couple of years ago he definitely would've let a few crocodile tears go in exchange for escaping.

It was well into dinner by the time they were permitted to leave, but Nico wasn’t hungry. The quartet walked in silence, the other three presumably to the Great Hall, and Nico just past that on his way out the castle to the Forbidden Forest for some peace and quiet. Gods knew he wouldn’t be able to find that on the ship. Even though practically everyone was scared of him, or too worried of upsetting him and getting in trouble with their headmaster, a group of newly adult teens confined to a tight space made for a rowdy bunch.

However, his plans were dashed as Cedric spoke up. “So,” he said, “that took forever, huh?”

“How does one become blessed by Lady Magic herself?” Fleur looked at Nico, her gaze as piercing as always.

“I thought Cedric was the king of awkward conversations.” Nico deflected.

“Ouch but fair. Honestly I’m curious myself, how did you get blessed by Lady Magic?” He could feel their collective gazes burrowing into his skin like ticks. Harry might not have said anything but he looked at Nico just as keenly, like he was a specimen in a zoo they could interrogate and then drop when they were satisfied.

“I thought we were supposed to be competitors not pals.” Nico didn’t leave room in his tone for a question.

“Alright Mr. Pouty McGrumpface.”

“Don’t call me that!” Any attractiveness Cedric had was lost by his horrid personality. And where did that thought come from? Cedric isn’t attractive. That’s dumb. Although…Nico guesses he’s conventionally handsome but that doesn’t mean anything. 

Nico stormed ahead, but storming ahead on his short legs was like slightly lengthening the strides to Cedric’s lanky walk.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Cedric caught up to him with an easy smile.

Nico craned his neck to look up at Cedric. The boy was smiling, completely unbothered like he always was. He looked the picture of innocence. Something was clearly wrong.

“What do you want?”

The question clearly put Cedric offput, unsure. “What do you mean?” His smile faltered.

“You’re talking to me. You want something but you don’t know how to bring it up. What is it?” Nico bit out. It had been a long day and if Cedric would just be blunt, Nico could avoid his questions and go take a walk, hopefully avoid Karkaroff, and sneak back into the school to spend the night in the library.

Cedric put his hands up in a universal show of surrender. “I don’t have to want something to talk to you short-stack.”

Nico ignored the nickname. “But you do.”

Cedric opened his mouth, then closed it. He pressed his lips together in obvious thought.

“Spit it out.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “What, you in a hurry?”

“I zertainly am. Dinner will not be open for much longer.” Fleur folded her arms across her chest.

Harry looked lost.

“Okay, well, uh-” Cedric started.

Fleur clicked her tongue. “You boys and your inability to get on with it. You are twelve, yes?”

Nico nodded, cautious.

“Zell, you will likely die. You are za youngest champion to ever compete. And you did so accidently.”

“I’m well aware of my poor chances. Did you want to remind me about my upcoming death or is there an actual purpose to this conversation.”

And speaking of his imminent death Nico had totally forgotten to see Hazel one last time and warn her. He didn’t want to worry her but it would definitely be worse if he just stopped showing up one day.

Cedric picked back up the conversation with a wince. “Look kiddo, I don’t want to see you die.”

Pansy-faced twat with a savior complex. Bestowing your gracious help on people because a bit of gore freaks you out.

“But if Durmstrang curriculum is anything like Hogwarts, you don’t know very many spells and, well-”

“You are going to need support more than anyone and you have no friends.”

Cedric winced. “Just I’ve seen you on campus a lot and you never talk to anyone. These tasks are going to be putting us through the wringer, even with the new safety regulations. You're going to need a support system.”

Nico had no interest in dealing with this right now. “What, are you stalking me now?”

“No!” Cedric held up his hands. “I’ve just seen you roaming around a lot these past few days and there is never anybody with you. And you're the only second year Drumstrang brought so there isn’t anyone your age. That’s not the point, just kid-”Cedric took a deep breath and his eyes were somehow both pleading and pitying. “The first task is in less than two weeks and I don’t want to see you get killed. You need a support system, even if you have this tough loner act going on that really makes you look like a wet cat sometimes.”

A ghost flew through the wall above them and promptly screamed, “It’s him! It’s the boy!” and fled, shrieking all the way.

“Huh.” Cedric said, turning around. “That was weird. Anyway the fact of the matter is that you might very well die if you don’t get comfortable asking for help.” Cedric got quiet. “That night, you seemed pretty against the whole thing. You said, well, that you just wanted to make it till thirteen.”

“And what, you think if I hang out with you, I’ll just magically live? How lonely are you? Or maybe just pathetic.”

“Okay look kid I’ve taken a lot of crap from you but-”

“I have a name, I suggest you use it.” Nico stepped into Cedric’s personal space and looked him in the eye. He could feel his mouth twisting into the scowl that made campers cower and run. Cedric flinched and Nico felt that sour sick feeling fester in his gut.

Cedric made a point of rolling his eyes but Nico saw through it. He took a step back and Nico could see nervousness dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. I want you to stop harassing me.” Nico was the one to take a step back this time. He turned away, and towards the path that would take him to the castle's front doors. “I just want to be left alone.” The words tasted bitter but Nico pushed it down. People were annoying. He didn’t want to be around them. That’s it. That’s safe.

He stormed away and no one followed him. Just like he wanted.

So why did he still feel so wrong?