"Revelaete."
I felt myself glowing, not in a happy way but literally shining. I looked above my head, and saw something I hadn't seen since I was 10 years old about to get out of camp.
A glowing figure above my head.
'XCIV'.
I cringed. I hoped on my life that these young children didn't know how to read Roman numerals, but I certainly did.
Hermione gasped. Lovely. "Your 94? How?"
Everyone looked at me with wide eyes. "What?"
While everyone was focused on me, I was focusing on glaring at Ron with my most fierce face. He looked terrified for his life (I don't blame him), and I wanted nothing more than to... No, bad Nico, don't think about killing.
I hated being the centre of attention. I would love to melt back into the shadows, but I remembered that I need to teach these kids to defend themselves; I needed them to be ready for the attack.
"Well, as RON just pointed out, I am 94, but not mentally. I was stuck in a hotel for 79 years when it only felt like a few months. I was taken out with my sister, and here we are now." I glared at every single insufferable little child (except Harry and Hermione, and the twins, they were cool), and they all looked absolutely terrified.
"What happened to your sister?" Luna asked dreamily.
"She died," I say with no emotion.
"Oh..."
The students looked like they wanted to ask questions, but were way too terrified of my wrath.
"Oh, and just to warn you, there's an army on the way and I was asked to train you."