But there were very few of Harry's playful glared in the next weeks. The other houses were all furious at the two underage Gryffindor champions. Slytherin could only be expected, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw all seemed to have pitted against the scarlet and gold house.

Nico sensed a change in a select few other Gryffindors as well. Angelina, for example, was hoping for her own name to be chosen. Two seventh year Gryffindor boys didn't acknowledge them as they walked by. It was just a small grudge, nothing even close to Slytherin's. But the smallest change of all had the biggest impact.

"What's up with him?" Harry asked in frustration as Ron stood up and left the Great Hall from breakfast. "Doesn't he know we didn't do it on purpose?"

Nico didn't catch his eye and instead let his gaze follow Ron out the door. "I dunno. He's being pretty distant."

"Oh, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said softly. "He's jealous."

"Jealous?" Harry asked bitterly. "Why on earth would he be jealous?"

Hermione hesitated. "Let's go to the lake, shall we?" She asked. She and Harry stood up, still talking in an undertone with glances in Ron's direction.

"Damn," Percy said as they too, stood up. "I guess Ron's really jealous of all this attention."

Nico shrugged. After all, most of it was negative and aimed towards Harry, the more well known Gryffindor. He didn't mind it at all, in fact he was quite used to it. Harry, obviously, was not, and Ron was not blind to it either.

"I really hope he gets over it," Annabeth said worriedly. "Something as petty as jealousy shouldn't tear friendships apart."

Percy glanced at her, half amused, and mouthed Rachel. Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"Oh, hush, Seaweed Brain. We weren't even friends yet."

>>>•O•<<<

The sound of the door opening drew Nico from his cauldron. And a lucky thing it did, otherwise he would've dropped his head into his shrinking potion.

"Please, sir, I'm here to bring Harry Potter and Nico di Angelo upstairs," a small voice said. Nico glanced over and spotted Colin Creevey standing in front of Snape's desk, looking up at the potion's master with a slightly pink face. Clearly he was running down to the dungeons, though Nico couldn't see why. If he was sent to interrupt Snape's class in the middle of the day, he would go as slowly as possible.

"They have another hour of potions to complete," Snape said icily.

"Sir, Mr. Bagman wants them-- all the champions have to go..."

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, diAngelo, leave your things. I want you back later to test your shrinking potion."

"Please, sir, they have to take their things with them," Colin stammered. "All the champions--"

"Very well!" Snape raised his voice. "You two, take your things and get out of my sight!"

"It really is amazing, isn't it, Harry?" Colin prattled happily up he stairs. "You being champion?"

Harry shot a helpless glance at Nico, who grinned and stuck out his tongue.

"Er-- yeah. What do they want us for, Colin?"

"Photographs, I think. For the Daily Prophet!"

"Great," Harry muttered. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" Colin said, waving back as they shuffled into the room.

It was a partially empty classroom, the tables pushed to one side to make an empty space. Fleur and Krum were already there, Krum sitting moodily at a desk and Fleur still speaking rapid fire French with Madame Maxime.

"Ah, there they are! Champions three and four. In you come... in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony after all."

"Wand weighing?" Nico repeated, bewildered. It was a stick, for goodness sake! He was fairly certain they were all within the quarter pound range.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, as they're your most important tools for the tasks ahead. They'll be down in a moment, and Rita Skeeter's here to do a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet--"

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" She asked Bagman. "You know, the youngest competitor..."

Nico felt the need to clear his throat.

"Of course," Bagman cried. "That is... if Harry has no objections?"

"Actually," Harry began, but Rita Skeeter seized Harry firmly by the arm.

"Lovely. Come now, we don't want to be in here with all this noise..."

Harry glanced at Nico, exasperation etched all over his features. Help me! He mouthed. Nico just grinned sympathetically at him as Harry was dragged away.

"Mr. Bagman," Nico said as the door shut. "You were saying how we would be using our wands?"

"Well, I can't fathom you using anything else," Bagman said with a bewildered look on his face.

"Well... I was wondering if I could use... my sword?"

"Your sword?" Bagman looked even more bewildered, an expression that turned into confusion with a spark of fear as Nico drew his Stygian iron sword he was keeping tucked in his robes. "Oh... your sword..."

"Yeah." Nico watched Bagman in his peripheral vision as he swung the sword expertly between his hands. "I feel more comfortable with this."

"Does it have magical properties?" Bagman peered closely at it while keeping a safe distance away. Nico shrugged, his eyes glimmering.

"You could say that."

"What does it do?" Now Bagman was looking at it excitedly.

"You'll see... if you let me use it."

"Well, I must ask our judges..." Bagman said slowly. Suddenly the door opened once more and in entered Dumbledore and Ollivander, the old wandmaker, along with Harry and Rita Skeeter.

Conversation dwindled as everyone else noticed the newcomers, watching then expectantly. Dumbledore walked to the front of the room.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander. He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

"Mademosielle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Ollivander asked, speaking in his thin, quiet voice. Fleur stepped up and handed Ollivander her wand.

"Hmm..." he twirled it beteeen his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of gold and pink sparks. He held it close to his eyes, examining it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly. "Nine and a half inches... rosewood... inflexible... and containing..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur said. "One of my grandmuzzers."

Ollivander nodded and ran his fingers along the stick, before adjusting his grip. "Orchideous!"

A bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip, which he scooped up and handed to Fleur along with her wand.

"Mr. Krum, you next." Ollivander waited for Krum to approach in his usual slouched walk. "This is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the styling is never quite what I..." he trailed off as he lifted the wand, examined it minutely, then turned it over and over. "Yes, hornbeam and dragon heartstrings?" He asked Krum, who nodded mutely. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

At the command, the horn beam went off like a gun, and several twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window.

"Good," Ollivander nodded. "Now, Mr. diAngelo."

"Oh-- Professor Dumbledore," Bagman hastily intervened. "Mr. diAngelo has requested-- instead of his wand... the use of his sword."

"A sword?" Karkaroff's eyes narrowed. "Why a sword?"

Nico shrugged and tried to adapt a bored expression. "Why not? I'm more comfortable with it than my wand."

"You're giving up the use of your wand?" Ollivander asked. His eyes glimmered, and Nico remembered that Ollivander himself was a descendant of Athena.

"Well, I have no objections," Dumbledore said lightly. "Unless someone wishes to object..."

"It ees magic?" Fleur asked, eyeing the iron sword disdainfully. Nico shrugged vaguely.

"I am not an expert in swords," Ollivander admitted. "Perhaps... Mr. Crouch wishes to examine it?"

Mr. Crouch, who was sitting silently wth the judges, now stood up. Nico handed him his sword, releasing his breath when the blade didn't pass through his hand. That meant it could be used on wizards... hm....

"What is this made of?" Mr. Crouch asked. He seemed to have been drawn from his stupor for the time being, examining the sword closely.

"Iron," Nico said simply.

"And that's all?" He turned it over. "It's a bit dark, slightly black..." Nico waited for Mr. Crouch to call him out, but he didn't.

"I see no problem with it," Mr. Crouch said finally. "It has magical properties?"

Nico hesitated. "N-- yes," he said finally. "I don't wish to reveal them yet."

Mr. Crouch nodded suspiciously before returning the sword to Nico, who sheathed it. The room grew warmer.

"And lastly, Mr. Potter." Ollivander waited expectantly as Harry, who was hastily cleaning his wand on his robes, hurried forward.

"Aaah, yes." Ollivander's eyes suddenly gleamed. "Yes yes, how well I remember this one..."

He didn't elaborate, instead examining Harry's in silence. It was only when a small fountain of wine poured out of the tip like a spout that Ollivander left.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, standing up. "You may return to your--"

"Ah, but may I have a word with the rest of the champions?" Rita Skeeter intervened. Harry grimaced.

"Good luck."

"Who wants to go first?" She asked, but her eyes were already fixed greedily on Nico. "How about you, Mr. diAngleo?"

Reluctantly, Nico went with Rita Skeeter into--

"A broom cupboard?" He asked incredulously.

"I prefer this over that noisy room," Rita said lightly. "Come now, sit down."

Nico didn't sit down.

"Suit yourself," Rita said as she unclasped her crocodile-skin handbag. "Now tell me, Nico. How did you get your name inside of the Goblet of Fire? You are, after all, underage."

Nico's expression remained neutral. "Who says I'm underage?" He asked evenly.

"What do your peers think?" Rita continued as if she didn't hear him. "Did you and the rest of your friends all put their name in? Do they despise you for being chosen?"

Nico glanced down at the quill that was scribbling madly on a piece of parchment, but he couldn't read it. "No comment."

"Come now, don't be shy." Rita smiled, showing pointed teeth. "Why did you choose to use your sword instead of a wand?"

Nico gave a thin smile. "Because it's easier to do this." He lifted his sword, and a skeletal owl suddenly swooped down in Rita's face. She let out a scream and toppled backwards on her wooden pail she was using as a stool. Her magic quill stopped, momentarily confused, and Nico took the chance to slip out of the broom cupboard.

"What the bloody hell happened in there?" Harry asked as Nico popped out, trying to hide the fact that he was listening in.

"Rita Skeeter got a face full of owl," Nico said with a grin. In the back of his mind, he wondered why she reacted so strongly, but his conscience was still laughing as it replayed her fall over and over again. It wasn't an image Nico was likely to forget.

There is going to be a lot of Nico POVs btw. No surprise at that.