Nico, Voldemort's Older Brother (Being Rewritten)

Goblet of Fire: Harry I

  "Of course!" Sirius puffed out his chest in pride. "I am such good help! I will be able to help you in the thing that you need help in!" He boasted, "I'm the best at everything!"

  "Okay," Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Thank you, Sirius."

  I understood what she was doing; distracting Sirius from not being able to come with us. It was actually quite smart of Mrs. Weasley to distract him—make him feel useful. Very... Slytherin of Mrs. Weasley, really.

  "Let's go," Dumbledore said, holding out an empty aluminum can. "This is a portkey. Everyone that's coming should grab on."

  We all placed a hand on the can, the metal cool under our touch. Dumbledore said the activation word, and we were pulled across the ocean.

  "Ugh," I stumbled when we finally landed at our chosen destination. I felt sick like my breakfast wanted to have an encore. I placed my hands on my knees and took deep breaths.

  "Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Just keep taking breaths. You should be fine soon."

  Meanwhile, I heard the sound of retching from the left. I looked up to see Ron with his head buried in the bushes, puking his guts out.

  "Yeah," Hermione grimaced, following my gaze. "Someone didn't have a very good portkey experience."

  "Haha," I laughed weakly, my nausea subsiding. "I think I'm good now... maybe?"

  "Do you want to sit down?" Hermione tilted her head, gesturing to the curb. "I should have some water here—" she began digging through her bag.

  "No thanks," I held up a hand to stop her. "I'm fine,"

  "Are you sure?" Hermione gave me a concerned look.

  "Yeah," I nodded, "Let's just get this guy and leave. I'm sure we're attracting all sorts of unwanted attention." Even though it seemed to be nighttime in New York, the streetlights were still on and there were quite a few people wandering around.

  "Oh yes!" Hermione exclaimed, "Headmaster Dumbledore cast notice-me-not spells on all of us. We'll be fine."

  "Oh, good." I looked up at the apartment building in front of us. "So Voldemort's brother lives here?" I glanced at Hermione, "It's not really what I expected. It's not very fancy, is it?"

  "No, but who knows?" Hermione smiled furtively as if she were about to tell a secret. "Maybe this is all hiding a secret lair?"

  I was halfway convinced that she was joking, but Hermione was confusing sometimes. "That would be pretty cool." I paused, "But evil," I added quickly.

  "Yeah," Hermione looked back at Ron, who was wiping his mouth on his jumper. "Ew,"

  "We can go now," Dumbledore said, "Mr. Weasley was just experiencing the aftermath of portkey travel. I know it's not for everyone."

  We walked up to the door. Ron tried pulling on the door, but it refused to budge.

  "I think it's locked," Hermione drawled, looking tired at Ron's continued—but futile—attempts.

  "Well, obviously!" Ron gave Hermione a nasty look, moving away from the door.

  Dumbledore chuckled lightly, unlocking the door with a spell. "After you, Ms. Granger."

  "Thank you," Hermione walked into the building, looking around as if she were cataloging everything she was seeing. "This is brilliant! I've never been to New York before, but I think I would like to revisit here again with my family."

  "Where does he live?" I asked Dumbledore, who was looking at a piece of paper.

  "Follow me," Dumbledore led us to what I recognized as a muggle lift, pressing a button in the wall.

  "What's that?" Ron gave the lift a questioning look, prodding it lightly with a finger. "That's weird."

  "It's a lift." Hermione deadpanned, "You didn't read the book I gave you on modern electronics, did you?"

  Ron gave Hermione a sheepish look, "Maybe not?"

  Hermione sighed, "Oh Ron,"

  The lift dinged, the metal door sliding open.

  We all squeezed inside, the door closing after us.

  "Well, this is awkward." I brushed a piece of Hermione's hair out of my face.

  "Oh, is my hair in your face?" Hermione gave a frustrated growl, grabbing her hair and pulling it into a ponytail. "Why is there no spell to solve my hair problems, I'll never know."

  "Well, I think your hair is very you." I said, "It's unique. I like it,"

  "Aw, thanks, Harry." Hermione smiled, bracing a hand against the wall to keep her balance.

  The doors opened and we filed out of the small, metal box.

  "Nico di Angelo," I mused, "Be prepared to have your life changed forever."