A/N Hiya! I know Nico going to Hogwarts fan-fictions are so cliche but they are amazing and I can't help but love them? And who doesn't adore Solangelo? My name is Merlyn, and this is my account for all non- BBC Merlin fanfics (my fmain fandom). Kinda ironic, I know. My merlin fics are on Merlyn101. I didn't mean to get two accounts - it just kinda happened.

This is only my second fic so please don't be too harsh. This chapter is kinda long because I added the introduction as I made a stupid error. It's set in Harry's 5th year and after BoO. May start to differ from canon a bit. That's basically it, people.

DISCLAIMER: do I look like J.K Rowling or Rick Riordan? No... maybe one day. Life is so sad, right?

A surprise Visit (pt. 1)

Nico's POV

'What the-' I dodge a fatal blow. The hellhound leaps for my shoulder, the part of my body nearest to its slavering jaws. I duck. Its knife-sharp claws graze across my back. I stab with my sword, aiming for the soft underbelly, but a paw swipes across my head, sending me flying. The world swims.

I have no idea how it happened. I'm usually ready for any sort of monster attack. It came completely out of the blue. Strange saying that. Out of the blue. Suits Percy. Suits his whole life. Stop getting distracted! I tell myself. Stupid ADHD! Anyway, it all started when Will went unnecessarily crazy because I decided to skip breakfast. I mean, he's my doctor, shouldn't he approve of getting more sleep? He is also the son of the sun god though, I suppose, so his internal clock is set, but does he have to wake me? Ever since I got out the infirmary three weeks ago, he hasn't left me alone.

Teeth sink into my calf as I scramble to my feet. I let out a scream of pain and slash wildly at its head. It turns with agility that shouldn't have been possible for one so large. How is one demigod (granted, child of one of the big three) meant to destroy a hellhound at 9am? With less than five hours sleep. I supress a yawn. Adrenalin floods through my veins. I attempt to summon shadows as a shield.

So Will started ranting and I desperately made an excuse that I didn't feel like eating at Camp Half-blood today for whatever reason. I had already had one lecture from him about the detrimental impact on your wellbeing when you stay up 'far too late'. How old does he think I am? Five? Anyway, my idiotic doctor decided to send me off to McDonald's (although, and here I quote 'only as a very last resort, because McDonald's is known to extremely bad for your health'). I'm a demigod, for Zeus' sake! But he knew I couldn't resist happy meals. At least he let me go alone (after a lot of persuasion). And then a great hulking hellhound just has to turn up and destroy my already terrible morning.

My shadow shield works. For about a second. But I can feel my energy being sapped. My knees buckle from under me and I collapse, my vision blurring. I hate how weak I've become since shadow-travelling the Athena-Parthenos. I haven't even been allowed to use my powers. I can see the hellhound going for the kill. I stagger to a shaky stand and manage to break into a run, my calf throbbing painfully and protesting. I'm losing too much blood. I need to get out of here. Shadow travel, my exhausted brain thinks immediately. But I'm so tired and Will told me not to. I still haven't recovered from transporting a giant statue, two demigods and one satyr halfway across the world. I might start fading.

Since when have you listened to Will? Says a voice in my head. And besides, it's better to take the chance of fading than definite death with a hellhound. I have to give it a go.

The world begins to spin at an intense rate. Everything turns black. Anywhere, I think, just away from here, away from monsters. Oh, and not to that place in China. I doubt they'd ever want to see me again. I'm falling, seemingly endlessly in a downwards spiral. Down, down, down towards Tar- no! Don't think about that! I already have enough of it with all the nightmares. Falling…

An Interesting Intruder (pt.2)

Grimmauld Place: 3rd person POV (Nymphadora Tonks)

The atmosphere in number 12 Grimmauld Place was so thick with tension you could have cut it with a butter knife. Severus and Sirius, for once, has ceased their murderous death glares and were staring transfixed at the unconscious boy they had dragged into the kitchen. He had appeared in the hallway of the house out of thin air. Actually, that wasn't true. There wasn't a loud crack like there is when you apparate, he seemed to have just fallen out of the shadows. Literally. Tonks should know. He had seen him. Somehow, he had managed to get past all of their defence systems. Well, apart from Sirius' mother, that is.

The boy could only have been around Harry's age, and he had the same raven black hair, but the similarities ended there. The boy's hair was longer, and slightly curly. His face was deathly pale with an olive undertone. Tonks had seen some pretty pale people in her life –she lived in Britain after all - but he was almost unnaturally so, and it scared her. There was a small frown upon his face, and his forehead was creased. He kept on twitching and jerking, and looked so young and innocent that Tonks couldn't help but let out a tiny, sad smile. He was painfully thin, and his clothes hung loosely off his skeletal frame.

His clothes. They were strange, to say the least. For one, he was not wearing robes, but muggle clothing that looked like he was going through some emo, Goth phase. He wore ripped black skinny jeans that were covered in dirt and blood, and a black shirt with a skull which was even bloodier and torn practically to shreds. He also wore a black aviators jacket that now just dangled from one arm and skull ring, which he was twisting in his sleep. There was an aura about, one that seemed to radiate death and gloom and sadness all too much.

That was not, however, what surprised Tonks the most about him. Where the skin was exposed, you could see scars and cuts almost everywhere. There were three long tears on the back of his shirt, revealing bloodied claw marks and blood was pooling from a wound in his calf. Tonks winced just looked at the injury. The back of his head was also soaked with blood, and there was a readily forming lump.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mad-eye broke the silence with his gruff voice. He dragged the boy roughly up by his shoulders.

'Well, we better call Dumbledore then.'

Nico's POV

I groaned. My mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton wool dipped in lime juice, then taken it out and blown my tongue with a hairdryer. In short, bitter and dry. My throat was parched and every muscle of my body ached in protest every time I shifted slightly. I could hear vague voices through the roaring in my ear.

'Moody, he's just a boy!' a female voice cried.

'And a strange one. What kind of boy has injuries and scars like that, is magical but wears muggle clothing and carries a sword but no wand. Besides, it could just be polyjuice. I'm telling you Molly, we need veritaserum. Or legilimency. He invaded our secred headquarters!'

I stopped listening after that. Veritaserum? Polyjuice? Magical? Legilimecy? Secret headquarters? My head was throbbing. I realised I was tightly bound to a chair – I could feel the rope chafing at my writs, tied behind my back. But that someone had untidily bandaged my injuries over my clothes, for which I was grateful. There was gentle pressure against my throbbing wounds. I wanted to shadow-travel, but I was utterly exhausted and I could not risk fading.

Blearily, I opened my eyes. Gradually, the world swam into focus. I gaped at the sight. I was right. I was in a kitchen – a rather gloomy-looking kitchen - and I was bound to a chair. Several people stood around pointing sticks threateningly at my face. I would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire. They all wore strange items of clothing, like, were they robes? The Aphrodite cabin would have had a fit.

There was a man with horrible scars which were really creepy (and that's coming from me) and an electric blue that kept whizzing around in their socket. He had a wooden leg, like that of a pirate. Then there was another man, middle-aged, with balding red hair and a woman with hair the same colour, though a shade brighter. A younger woman with bright pink hair grinned at me. After that, a dog. Yes. A great big shaggy black dog with intelligence too keen for its kind shining in its eyes. Which held a kind of haunted look. It stood by a young-ish man in shabby robes, with hair grey too early and a haggard and tired face. There was something off about him. Finally, my eyes rested on an old, old guy, about forty years older than me (impossible for a mortal, but I swear he was) with a neat snow-white beard up to his waist and twinkling blue eyes. I had a feeling he was the most eccentric of the group. He kind of reminded me of Chiron. He was the only one not pointing a stick at me, and he kind of blended into the shadow like he wasn't there (something I was very familiar with myself).

'So our great mystery awakes. Who are you and where do you come from?' the man with the blue eye growled menacingly.

Honestly, after facing titans, giants, gods and countless monsters, this guy didn't scare me that much. Keyword: much. He could still kill me easily. I was defenceless and completely helpless. I hated it. And in terms of mortals (and even demigods) he made it pretty high on the list. 'You're British.' I said bluntly, ignoring his question.

His stick pressed into my throat, compressing my windpipe, 'and you're American, apparently.'

'Actually Italian,' I gasped, 'and I would appreciate it if you stopped choking me.'

'Moody! He's just a child…' repeated the woman with red hair mournfully.

I glared at her. I could fight my own battles myself, thank you very much, and I was not a child. 'Technically speaking, I'm older than you lady,' I muttered, as the pressure on my throat diffused.

'So you used polyjuice,' said the man with the shabby robes. His voice was softer, kinder, and that kindness was directed towards me. My throat constricted again as I remembered how much my life had changed, but, this time, I wasn't being choked. It warmed me to know that I had friends now.

'What's that?' I asked, 'look, all I know is I accidentally shadow-travelled here. I really didn't mean to I was just trying not to die, so I would appreciate it if you would let me go and I'll waltz all the way home. Anyway, I'll have a very irritating (but lovable, I thought secretly) doctor who will personally makes sure I never leave again if I don't return right now. And I didn't get that McDonald's.'

At the perplexed looked I burst out, 'seriously, you guys have never been to McDonald's? Man, you're missing out. My doctor would be proud, though.'

'You're not going anywhere until you explain yourself,' Blue-eye said, still pointing the stick at my face.

'This location is secret,' explained the man with the balding red hair, 'we don't know if you work for you-know-who. Also, what's shadow travel? Is it that thing you did? So it's like apparition then.'

'For Zeus' sake, I don't even know what country I'm in!' I cried exasperated, 'I don't know the 'secret location' of this place, and no, I don't know who! In my father's name just let me go!' I kick the leg of my chair the best I could when completely bound.

'Because we're sure to believe that,' relied Blue-eye, sarcasm lacing his tone.

'I don't care what you believe,' I said coldly. These people clearly weren't demigods, they were mortals, but they didn't seem at all like ordinary mortals. Suddenly, it came to me. A conversation I had had years ago, 'wizards! You're wizards! I remember father complaining about all the paperwork you cause him, a Tom-guy or something and Flannel, or was it Flamel? Flames?' I mused.

'You act like you aren't a wizard,' said shabby-robes curiously, 'but then what are you? Who are you? Where do you come from?'

'Well that's none of your business, is it?' I snarled. Shadows in the room responded to my mood and began to distort. The temperature dropped considerably.

'Hey, chill, calm down,' said Pink-hair, 'it's cool?' She grinned at me.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, swallowing my anger. The shadows went back to normal, but there was still a distinct chill in the air. My eyes fell on the man with the snow-white beard. He just stood in the corner, regarding me behind half-moon spectacles with those twinkling eyes. They frustrated me, 'what do you want, you old goat?' I spat. Okay, I admit, not my greatest moment, shouting at an old man, but he had kidnapped me and I was angry. Okay, maybe I accidently invaded their secret headquarters.

Everyone in the room suddenly glared at me, 'don't talk to Dumbledore like that,' growled Blue-eye dangerously. He was always growling. I was getting kind of fed up with him.

'Why the hell is his name Bumblebee?' (A/N Dumbledore means bumblebee in Latin, in case you didn't know) 'Bumblebee' continued smiling pleasantly.

Before anyone else could reply, a man strode into the room. He had long, greasy black hair, calculating dark eyes and a hooked nose. If I ever had a half-brother this was him, which is also to say he did not seem particularly pleasant, 'I have the veritaserum,' he said smoothly, walking up to me.

There was a murmur of assent, apart from from the red-haired woman, 'I really don't think it's necessary. Look at him. He's a child.'

I mentally made a note to hate her for all of eternity, but in this case, I hoped everyone else would listen.

They didn't. The man forced the liquid down my throat, holding my nose until I was forced to gasp for air. I half spat it out, half choked on it and gave an unwilling shudder and a grimace. I frowned, 'what did you do to me?'

'Truth potion,' answered the man carelessly, 'if you'd prefer it, we could extract information through more, ah, painful means.'

Well, you've given it to me already, haven't you? Anyway, why did you give me a truth potion?'

His voice grew cold, 'we are at the brink of war, boy.'

'I can relate to that,' I muttered.

'What do you mean?'

'I've been in two wars,' I blurted. What the heck?

'Which ones?'

'The second Titan War and the Giant War.'

'How old were you? Have you disguised you age? What is your real age?'

'I was biologically twelve in the first war and fourteen in the second. I have not disguised my age. I am really (chronologically) eighty-two years old.'

'What is your name?'

'Nico di Angelo.'

'What do you mean you are chronologically eighty-two?'

'I was at a hotel for several decades where I did not age.'

'Do you work for the dark lord?'

'Yes.'

Murmurs broke out in the room, gradually increasing.

'I told you he's evil.'

'Whatever.'

'Why is he here?'

'Silence!' said the man icily,

'Why come here now?' Asked shabby-robes, 'looking suspicious, being injured, falling unconscious, repeated mentions of Greek mythology and getting past our security. None of it adds up.'

'I didn't mean to come here,' I replied (man, this potion was annoying; my brain grew fuzzier by the second), 'I just didn't want to be killed by this hellhound – not all of them are as friendly as Mrs. O'Leary, you know – so I shadow-travelled to a random place.'

'What is shadow-travel?'

The potion was slowly taking over my brain. I felt as though I was half-asleep, but I attempted to manipulate it, if I couldn't fight it head on, 'a-a- it's a- a- a- it's gift inherited from my father!' I cried out desperately.

'And who might that be, boy?'

'L-Lord H-Ha… you know him as… no! T-the Dark Lord,' I screamed.

I couldn't this. I couldn't just go and give away information. With all the force I could muster, I topped the chair sideways. The cuts that had only recently healed from the Giant War split open with a sharp searing pain. And then I hit my head and the world darkened.

A/N I am proud of myself for being such a good author, only this means that I don't have that much time to read, which means I am failing at my challenge to read 100 books this year. Blame fan fiction. Also, does anyone have anymore good idea for a Merlin short story (BBC Merlin). I've written some but I wanna write a bit more before I publish. Also, new season of Brooklyn 99 (for us in the U.K, you lucky Americans got it a few months ago) and season 6 for us is finally on Netflix! I've already watched most of season 6, though, anyway. Please review and make my generosity worth it and that is Merlyn out. I also apologise for always giving such long author's notes. Also, I am very grateful because my grandma had facial paralysis, but it is fine, she is fine and it will go away. Nothing dangerous, thank the gods. Follow, fave, review and see you in 4 days!

- Merlyn