Nico, Voldemort's Older Brother (Being Rewritten)

Nico XVI

  I was poking lunch with my sisters, when Severus walked up to us. "Nico, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. . . . You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," I said, standing up, my fork falling onto my plate with a clatter.

  "Good luck, Nico," Selena whispered. "You'll be fine!"

  "Yeah," I said.

  "Just remember what we taught you!" Serena handed me my skull ring. "Me and Selena made it so that your ring will turn into your sword, just twist the skull."

  "Thanks,"

  I left the Great Hall with Severus. He didn't seem himself either; in fact, he looked nearly as anxious as Serena. As he walked me down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," he said, "just keep a cool head. . . . We've got six demigods standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. . . . "

  "Six? Who are the others?" I asked.

  "Sirius Black, my half-brother." He said half brother, as one might say Zeus's gym clothes. "Plus, there's Luna and Minerva."

  "What's so bad about him? I saw him at the Weasley's house before school started."

  He made a face, "He, before he found out he was a demigod, he set a werewolf—on a full moon—on me."

  I gasped, "Lupin?"

  He raised both eyebrows, "Yes, how did you know?"

  I shrugged, "I saw him with Sirius Black. When Harry, The Brat-Who-Won't-Die-kidnapped me."

  "Interesting.... Never mind that now, the tournament's starting! Good luck!" He pushed me into the tent, where all the other champions were.

  "Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" — he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them — "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too . . . ah, yes . . . your task is to collect the golden egg!"

  I glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Harry, Fleur Delacour and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths. But they, at least, had volunteered for this. . . .

  And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. . . . I felt as separate from the crowd as though they were a different species. And then — it seemed like about a second later to me — Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

  "Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck. And I knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that the twins had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

  The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

  Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck.

  Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Ukrainian Ironbelly, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.