Nico di Angelo and The Triwizard Cup

Chapter VI

She wasn't sure what to think.

When Dumbledore had first told her that he was hiring a secondary healer as an additional safety measure in the Triwizard Tournament, she'd been sceptical.

In her humble opinion, the death trap should've remained firmly where it belonged; in the history books. Far too many deaths and disasters, and for what? Money and glory? The age limit was something at least. Lord knows how many unprepared children met their end in the struggle for first.

But she knew her place, and if the ministry wanted it so, so it would be.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

And it didn't mean she didn't protest vehemently when Dumbledore told her that the healer he had hired was the grandson of Voldemort. She didn't care how strongly Dumbledore vouched for the man.

She trusted Dumbledore with her life, but her loyalty to him didn't extinguish her loyalty to all those that died in the war. All the friends and patients she couldn't save.

So when she heard a crack outside of her door on the evening Dumbledore had arranged to move one William Solace into Hogwarts, she straightened her frock and prepared her wand.

She would meet this foe head on. Opening her door however, she heard another, louder crack as Dumbledore left with someone else she didn't quite see. Left in the room was a boy not much older than the students in her care, looking out at the pale moon before turning and quietly opening the door to his room, closing it behind him.

Seeing him now, she thought it was quite ridiculous to be so afraid of a boy who had done no harm to her.

Sighing to herself, she pocketed her wand and tried to get some sleep. This could wait 'til morning. Didn't mean she wouldn't bolt her door.

When he emerged from his room later that night, in the wee hours of the morning, she hadn't been particularly pleased by the ruckus he'd been kicking up. What on earth is he up to in there? she had thought, admittedly grumpy at having her sleep disturbed. So when the shuffling ceased and the door inched open with a low creak, hands on hips, she made sure to give him her signature the patient needs rest glare.

A wand was grasped in his hand, a ball of magical light floating around his head and illuminating his face, a little of his room and no doubt Madam Pomfrey herself.

But his eyes widened and a distinct blush crept up his neck as he witnessed her in all her dressing gowned glory.

Abruptly, he held out a hand, likely realising who she was and introduced himself as Will Solace 'Dumbledore hired me'.

"My name is Madam Pomfrey. I am Hogwarts' matron. I do hope we can get along. I cannot stress how much I value my sleep, and I am a very light sleeper," was her terse reply. She wasn't a particularly light sleeper, but the more rest she got, the better his chances in this wing were and he'd already woken her once.

That said, whatever she had expected from a descendant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it was not the bright, sunny and nervous boy in front of him. She still remembered the dark haired, pale cheeked, apathetic and charismatic boy Riddle had once been, and she didn't think she'd seen anyone look and act so differently from him.

If she hadn't been told beforehand, she would have never guessed he might be related to the darkest wizard of all time.

It brought back her sentiments from earlier that same evening, and she decided that she couldn't very well judge the poor boy on his heritage before even knowing him. So sighing, she'd told him to call him Poppy. If we're going to be working together, it had better be on friendly terms. She couldn't stand formalities.