CHAPTER FOUR

I do not own Nico or Harry, enjoy this chapter :)

Nico struggled to track the floo travel through the shadows. He wasn't sure how he could do it, but he decided a long time ago that it's better to just not ask.

It had been a weird week, first Harry had been locked into his room, with metal bars installed on his windows, which further confirmed the fact that something had happened during his short absence. And since Potter was grounded into his room, it had been really boring for Nico to watch over him. However, it was important to keep an eye out for any suspicious persons lurking around the house.

First it was that strange occurrence at the garden, where something had appeared and disappeared in an instant, leaving almost no tracks behind. Then there was the strange indentations in Harry's rooHm, and the very faint sense of the same same being which had appeared in the garden. Nico had been unable to track it, it was like something popped into existence then popped out again, unlike his shadow travel, which actually has a path.

Then that night, something unbelievable happened. Nico had been half asleep, and struggling to keep his eyes open from the exhaustion of staring at a boy pace in his room all day, so he had thought he was hallucinating when the flying car came and parked right beside the boy who lived window, kidnapped the boy himself, and right in front of his gawking foster family. Nico couldn't believe how fast something could escalate so quickly, but he managed to shake himself out of his stupor and latch onto the car's shadow just in time before it flew too far.

Then he spent the rest of the night continuously struggling to stay in the car's shadows, which was incredibly tiring, so by the time they reached the weird structure, which looked like a lot of different houses with all sorts of shapes and sizes stacked on top of each other, which gave it a very… crooked look.

Later, Nico found out that it was called the Burrow, and that Harry's kidnappers were his friends from Hogwarts, who have brought him home for the rest of the summer. The Burrow was the home of a big family of ginger haired wizards, which had a warm and homely atmosphere, despite its… unique look.

And now, Nico was attempting to follow Harry's floo travel in his shadows.

He was sensing that they will approach their destination soon, which was supposed to be a wizard's market, yet it felt that they were headed towards something dark and ominous.

Nico could sense something ahead which made him feel sick and repulsive, even though he couldn't decipher what it was.

What was happening? Had the floo travel somehow gone wrong? Where were they headed?

Faster and faster, the unknown entity came closer and closer to Nico. Nico's whole body recoiled, whatever it was, his body didn't want to go near it.

So, naturally, Nico panicked and pulled out.

The fires dumped Harry face first onto the cold stone, conveniently snapping Harry's glasses in two.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

Wherever this was, it was definitely not Diagon Alley.

The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass — and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Great. Just his luck.

Panicking, Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

It's truly amazing how vividly Harry could remember his whiny voice, despite the two months they had spent apart.

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous . . . famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead. . ."

As if he wanted to.

As Malfoy continued on with his rant about Harry, Harry tuned him out. He wondered briefly what the Malfoys were doing in a dusty old shop like this, but dismissed soon after. Perhaps they could be here to pick up some antiques, though Harry couldn't imagine anyone wanted one of the displays exhibited in this place.

Then again, what did he know about the Malfoys' tastes? Maybe they have a weird thing for creepy old décor.

Harry was brought back to attention when Malfoy's dad started talking about the ministry.

"-conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read.

"I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call. . ."

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?" Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

Clearly his pride had taken a blow.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —"

Harry felt a hot surge of anger.

"— and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear —"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see . . ."

"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing to a glass case nearby which held a withered hand on a cushion.

Yep, perhaps the Malfoy family does have a weird thing for creepy things.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant —"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for —"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —"

Harry tensed, he could sense Draco was about to spew some very unflattering comments about his friend.

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere —"

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today —"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals:

Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.

Draco turned away and to the cabinet Harry was currently hiding in. Walking forward, he extended a hand.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, scared to breathe, waiting for the blinding light that would pour inevitably pour in once the cabinet was forced open…

It never came.

Once Nico had detected Harry in Borgin and Burkes, he immediately shadow travelled Harry out of there., and directly to him.

He had sensed something nauseating to him there, it had to be the same object which had caused him to drop out of Harry's shadow earlier, and he couldn't afford to let whatever that was to get to Harry.

Clamping a hand over his mouth, he resisted the need to vomit and forced the sick feeling back down his throat. The boy-who-lived had to be taken care of first, he can trace the object later. It was still within his radar anyways, so it would be no problem investigating it later.

Looking to his side, he saw Harry with his eyes shut tightly, curled into himself. It seems that he had not detected the change in scene yet.

Nico sighed inwardly, it would be painful trying to explain it to him, it would certainly be easier to just run away and allow Harry to come to a conclusion on his own, but this would be a good chance for him to get close to Harry, and finally meet him in person.

Placing a hand on his shoulders, Nico shook him gently, "Hey, you okay?"

When Harry finally opened his eyes and unfolded himself, he did so while staring warily at Nico. Looking around, he seemed to be taking in his surroundings, wrapping his head around the fact that he had only been stuck in a closet a second ago.

"Wait... how... where did I go? The shop... Malfoy...Who are you?"

Nico winced, he admitted that it might look bad. After all, he had been magically transported to a dark alleyway with a sketchy looking kid looming above him. Anyone would feel suspicious at that point.

"It's Nico. Who are you? I got lost and found you lying here, so I'm afraid I don't know what had happened to you."H

"...I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Soon, the two boys had exchanged stories, and Harry had been surprised to hear that Nico was going to transfer to Hogwarts, and in the same year as him, at that!

At first, he had his doubts about the guy. Nico was dressed in all black, and with his messy dark hair which curled around his pale face, he almost looked like a ghost. He did have good looks, Harry admitted, but had a chilling and dark atmosphere around him, as if shadows stuck to him wherever he went. Harry had identified his slight accent as a mix between American and Italian, yet there was another language in there that Harry could not pin down...

Nonetheless, Harry was glad to have Nico encounter him, there were people much worse out there. Thinking back to his sudden transportation, Harry wondered whether Dobby had once again interfered, but this time, Harry was glad he had, he couldn't imagine what would've happened if he caught caught by Draco Malfoy.

He shuddered, better not to think about it.

"Hey, we're out."

They emerged out of the area later ,bwhich they had identified as Knockturn Alley, and went back into the busy street of Diagon Alley, stumbling upon Hermione, whom Harry had never felt more relieved to see.

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Hermione Granger waved to Harry, standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. "What happened to your glasses? Oh, it's so wonderful to see you again — Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"bh

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," said Harry.

"Seems like you won't have long to wait" Nico muttered from under his breath.

Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far…" He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic — she's coming now —"

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Harry, a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

"Excellent!" said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"And there's a very good reason why, I should think." Nico butted in, thinking back to the chilling aura he had detected back there.

The Weaselys, and Hermione, turned to him, seemingly only now noticing him there.

"Harry, whose he?" Ron asked, suspiciously eyeing him.

Harry was about to reply, when Mrs. Weasely hurried over, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, and Ginny clinging to the other.

"Oh, Harry — oh, my dear — you could have been anywhere —"

Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the

soot which still clung on him from the floo powder experience. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of

his wand, and returned them, good as new.

"I'm alright, Mrs. Weasely, I was with Nico... Oh! You've probably not heard of him but he's a new transfer at Hogwarts, and he got lost there in Knockturn Alley same as me-"

Harry turned to gesture at Nico, but instead of the gloomy teenager, he was met with thin air.

"He's gone..?"

In the huge fuss and commotion, nobody had noticed the demigod slip away.

See you next chapter!