Nico, Voldemort's Older Brother (Being Rewritten)

Nico XIV

"Very well!" said Severus. "Potter — take your bag and get out of my sight!"

  I swung my bag over my shoulder, got up, and headed for the door, Harry following.

As I walked through the Slytherin desks, POTTER STINKS flashed at us from every direction, I stifled a snort at the pins.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment Harry had closed the dungeon door behind us. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"

"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. I knocked on the door and entered.

We were in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch I had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes. I glanced at the ceiling where two iridescent butterflies were hovering. I was so glad my sisters were there.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than I had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

I shuddered, that's so creepy!

Bagman suddenly spotted us, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here they are! Champion number four and five! In you come, boys, in you come . . . nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"

"Wand weighing?" I repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet. . . ."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry and me.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry and Nico before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly on us. "The youngest champions, you know . . . to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is — if they have no objection?"

"Er —" said Harry.

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering him out of the room again and opening a nearby door.

I gulped nervously, "So now I just do what?"

Bagman smiled at me, "Wait here for her to finish Harry, then it'll be your turn."