The Coming of Nico di Angelo

DAMMIT HARRY...

CHAPTER SUMMARY

Nico has another nightmare. Harry... does stupid things...

BEGINNING NOTES

Chapter Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Content Warning: Violence (mild), Self-Harm (mentioned)
Word Count: 2918

And all the characters are owned by J.K. Rowling, or Rick Riordan.

Credits at the end.

____________________NICO____________________

Teddy no longer spoke to Nico. He'd expected it; why should Teddy help a so-called hero who'd betrayed his friends at the drop of a hat? Still, the open rejection hurt. It was yet another reminder of how much the son of Hades failed anyone and everyone who ever helped him.

What's more, Nico no longer could avoid the nightmares. Before, he could train with Teddy from dusk until dawn, tiring himself out so that when he finally did sleep, the dreams--at least most of the time--were harmless.

He should've known he'd pay for such betrayal. Even Morpheus knew how to punish a self-serving hero: give him his worst nightmare yet.

Nico's dream began in familiar surroundings, but, beyond that, he still couldn't pinpoint where it was; the night was too dark to allow much sight. Still, there was some... aura about the place. Like how Nico felt when he approached a Horcrux, but worse, so much worse. Two figures sat near him; one boy around Percy's age, one about his own.

"Where are we?" the younger asked his older companion. Under normal circumstances, Nico would know the voice, but the aura interfered with his ability to think.

The older boy shook his head and stood up, then pulled the younger one to his feet. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?" the older boy asked.

What's a portkey?

"Nope. Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno. Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah."

So, they're followers of Hecate.

They pulled out their wands, then crept forward into the dark. The younger boy's head whisked to his left. "Someone's coming."

Nico trained his eyes in that direction, forcing his brain to work properly, despite the aura. Yes, there was a figure approaching, walking between stones. Gravestones. He still couldn't make out any face in the dark, but he managed to take in some details. The approaching person was short, with a hooded cloak pulled over his face, carrying... was that a baby?

A high-pitched cold voice filled the air. Riddle. "Kill the spare," he said.

A swishing noise, a scream of "Avada Kedavra!" from the hooded man, and a flash of green light illuminated the night. It hit the older boy square in the chest and he crumpled. There he lay, on cold, hard ground, spread-eagled, mouth half-open in a mixture of surprise and fear.

Dead.

"No!" Nico screamed. He wanted to draw his sword and run to these mortals' aid, but he couldn't move. Just like the old mortal from his last dream. Just like the Potters. They all fell to Avada Kedavra. They all fell to Riddle.

The man in the cloak didn't waste a second. He put down his bundle, lit his wand, and dragged the younger boy towards a marble headstone. Then, he summoned a magical rope and let it coil around the boy, tying him completely, from neck to ankles. He checked the cord, made sure his prisoner couldn't move, gagged him with some black cloth from his pocket, then turned away.