Nico di Angelo and the Goblet of Fire

Prologue: Hera's Command

The boy woke up with a blinding headache. He groaned, slowly clambering to his feet despite the throbbing. He was in a clearing, full of grass and surrounded by trees.

Great, he thought. The middle of nowhere. It wasn't actually the middle of nowhere, he was just in a sullen mood. Understandable, considering his predicament.

He twisted his head around, trying to spot anything human. Nothing. He decided to venture into the forest, to try and see where he would arrive.

When he was a couple hours into his hike, a blinding flash appeared in front of him. Somehow, he knew how to shield his eyes from it. It was lucky, considering that he would have been vaporized had he not.

In the spot stood a beautiful lady. She was very tall, with flowing black hair. Her face was angled, making her look like a queen. The crown on her head only confirmed that. She was wearing what looked like an Ancient Greek chiton that rippled with different colours. It was white, but you could see flashes of blue, green and purple, along with many other colours the boy couldn't name.

"My dear!" The lady spread her arms. "You're not where I sent you! I've been looking for an hour."

The boy looked her up and down, irritated. "What did you expect, for me to just sit there for hours?"

She sighed. "It would've been helpful."

"Yeah, well I don't care about being helpful. I don't even know you."

The lady's smile faded. "This is the part I hate dealing with. I'm Hera."

"The goddess?" The boy confirmed.

She smiled. "Good, so you remember!"

He snorted. "Yeah, right. I know you're a goddess, yet I don't even know my own name."

"It's Nico. Nico di Angelo." The name echoed around his head. Somehow, he knew she wasn't lying.

"I decided to give that Perseus boy a break, what with his girlfriend and such."

Once again, he somehow knew that this wasn't like Hera. She didn't seem like the sort to give people a break.

"Anyways, how much do you know?"

The boy racked his mind. Slowly, some facts came up. "I'm a son of...Hades. I can control the dead."

She beamed. "And do you know your quest?"

He slowly nodded. "I am to protect Harry Potter. He will be traveling to Hogwarts today."

"You will get on the train as well, my dear. Protect him from everything. Even if it costs you your life. We cannot afford another war."

The boy took these words in stride, seemingly not bothered by the fact that he could remember nothing, and had to protect a boy he'd never met before, even if he had to sacrifice his own life.

"Your cover is that you are an American transfer student. You went to Ilvermorny. You were in the Thunderbird house, but you are required to be sorted again, since that doesn't seem to fit you anymore. You are a half-blood, and both your parents are dead. I will send you to King's Cross tomorrow, with everything you need. We can't really have you showing up like that."

She was right. The boy was covered in sticks, his dark hair matted and greasy, as well as numerous small scratches all over his face and down his arms. He was wearing all black clothes, with a skull on the shirt in a white outline. A chain hung around his neck, as well as a solid black ring on his finger. The clothes were all ripped up, and not fashionably. He'd obviously been outside for quite a while. He was also wearing a sword across his back, a wicked thing of solid black. It was razor sharp and three feet long.

Suddenly he felt something snap in his mind. Instantly, he knew what it was. "Someone's died."

Hera nodded. "Just a old demigod. It doesn't matter. But you have full control of your power!"

He snorted.

"Don't disrespect me." She said sharply. "Anyway, here is your wand. You know what to do with it. I had Hecate bless you when you were asleep."

More like unconscious, he thought. But sometime in the past hour his headache had vanished. Well, that was a relief.

He took hold of the wand. It, like everything else, was solid black, around fourteen inches long, with swirl patterns tracing their way up the shaft.

"Ebony with dragon heartstring, fourteen and a quarter inches." Hera said like that explained everything. It made perfect sense to him though.

The boy looked down at the wand. "Confringo!" He shouted. The tree he was aiming at burst into flames. He nodded. "Aguamenti." A jet of water burst from the wand, leaving behind a withered, dead shell of a tree.

Hera nodded. "Well, enough of that. You need to get going. Remember what I told you." She waved her hand and the forest disappeared.

The boy looked around. He was in a crowded station. King's Cross, Hera had said. He was pushing a trolley that held a giant trunk, presumably holding all his supplies. He was now clean, his hair freshly washed and combed, his clothes repaired and all the filth scrubbed from him. The only thing that hadn't vanished was the scratches. Great, now people would be wondering why he ran through a rose bush. Just one more thing to bring attention to himself.

He walked to between platforms nine and ten. Eagle-eyed, he watched what seemed to be a wizard run right through a wall. They had an owl, and he had enough sense to know that you don't just go lugging an owl around at a train station.

He pushed the trolley to the brick wall. "Go ahead, dear." An old woman with gray hair in a tight bun told him. He was kind of sick of being called dear. What had they ever done for him?

Nevertheless, he mumbled, "Thanks," under his breath before walking right at the wall and shoving himself and the trolley through.

He didn't slam into the wall, instead passing through it to see a puffing train.

"All aboard! Depart in five minutes!" A voice came blaring through loudspeakers.

The boy sighed. Guess I'm getting on.

He ditched the trolley and lugged the trunk onto the train, dragging it until he found an empty compartment. He didn't like company.

He heaved the trunk inside, putting it up on the rack above him and sat down with a sigh. It'd been so long since he had peace. But that wouldn't last.

Another boy stuck his head into the room. He had red hair and freckles, and looked to be around the same age as the boy. "Hey, is this open?"

"Yes." The boy grunted. He'd been hoping to be alone.

Instead, three teenagers entered. The one with red hair, another boy with black hair, green eyes, and glasses, and the third, a girl, with bushy brown hair.

Once they had put their trucks up and settled in they introduced themselves.

"Ron Weasley," the boy with red hair said.

"Hermione Granger." The girl piped up.

"Harry Potter, but of course you know that." He was clearly cocky.

The boy nodded along, playing his role well. "Nico di Angelo."