"I took charge," Draco calmly replied. "You could have done it, but you didn't. Now, get into place, Zabini."
The other boy made a contemptuous gesture, but must have figured that now wasn't the time to dispute Draco's authority. Harry was actually impressed that nobody else balked at following Draco's directions--not even the seventh-years. It looked to him as though his brother had regained a good deal of his former standing with his house mates. And that all sorted well, didn't it? Maybe together, they'd be able to keep a good many of the Slytherins from making the same mistake Snape had made when he was their age.
Harry felt a little bad that he'd walked right past Gryffindor without a word, but it wasn't like he could go back and stand with them. He might be a Gryffindor and a Slytherin both, but above all that, he was Severus Snape's son, so his place was clear. Harry started making his way over to the back rows of the Slytherin lines.
"No, we're in front," said Draco, taking him by an elbow and steering him to a place alongside the first-year Slytherins, only a short distance from where Snape was waiting. "As aggrieved parties. That article didn't only slander Severus, you realise."
Harry was glad then that his brother knew so much about pureblood traditions.
A slight jostling to his side had Harry glancing down to see a familiar red-haired girl. Before he could greet Larissa, however, Draco stepped between them. "Back over there where you were," he told the little girl, bending down to speak to her. "I told you, didn't I?" Glancing up a bit, Draco addressed all the first years. "Harry doesn't like people fawning all over him just because he's the Boy Who Lived. Show some proper Slytherin decorum."
Larissa's eyes grew wide. She didn't exactly look like she was about to burst into tears, but she sure didn't look happy. "But Drakey--"
"I told you not to call me that!"
"I don't need you protecting me from the first-years, Draco," said Harry. Well, at least now he knew why Larissa had never come up to him again. He was a bit irritated with his brother about that, but Drakey... that made it hard to hold onto the feeling. "Larissa, you come stand by me."
Larissa threw Draco a smug look as she shouldered past him. It didn't last long, though. As she looked out at the duelling field, her little face turning to stare at Snape and then at Aran's empty space, she started to look worried. Her eyes clouded over as she pressed her lips tightly together.
Well, Snape had given everyone the clear impression that he intended to kill Aran. And Slytherin or no, Larissa was just a first-year. Eleven or twelve -- even Harry hadn't seen anybody killed in front of him until he was older than that. Except his mother, but he remembered that like something in a mist. For most of his childhood he hadn't been able to remember it at all. Larissa was old enough to understand what she would see here today.
Harry bent down a little bit. "It'll be all right. You'll see--"
Larissa's voice quavered as she shoved her little hands into her pockets and whispered, "Why won't Drakey let me stand in back? I don't want to get splashed by all the bl- bl- blood."
"Your Head of House has better aim than that," Draco said dryly.
"Draco!" Harry turned to face his brother. "She's scared!"
Larissa was tugging on Harry's robes. "I'm not scared!" she objected, though her voice trembled.
"That's the Slytherin spirit," said Draco, nodding.
"I'm not scared," she insisted again. "B- but, it's just that everyone else was talking this morning about all sorts of horrible curses--"
"Here, I think you wanted to hold Sals," Harry said, fishing the snake out of his pocket.
On his other side, Draco stiffened. "You're not supposed to play with pets at a duel, Harry," he said in a low voice.
"I'll put her away before it starts. Look, it's a distraction."
Draco gave the little girl a hard look, but then shrugged.
Meanwhile, Larissa was beaming as she held the snake. "What was my name in Parseltongue again?" After Harry hissed it, she started trying to say it herself. Harry didn't think Sals could understand her, but the snake seemed very happy all the same, slithering several times around her wrist. Larissa started asking Harry questions, then. What Sals liked to eat. What Sals and Harry liked to talk about. If Harry wanted more pet snakes.
And on and on.
"Aran's late," murmured Draco after a few moments of such chatter.
Harry shrugged. "Well, even an idiot would rather cut and run than face somebody like Dad, right?"
"Severus is allowed to kill him in that case!"
"Lower your voice," said Harry, thinking of Larissa. Thankfully, she still seemed caught up in playing with Sals. Harry kind of envied her that. He couldn't think of a time when he'd been so easily able to forget his worries. Not even when he'd been her age. His own voice very low, he whispered to Draco, "Isn't Severus allowed to do that during the duel as well?"
"Yeah, but Aran'll lose his magic if the duel doesn't start before those twenty-four hours have passed. But I see what you mean. Maybe he thinks he can hide from Severus, even without magic. Pretty stupid, if you ask me."
"Well, we are talking Aran here--"
A booming voice interrupted Harry.
"Professor Dumbledore," called Hagrid as he lumbered into view, hauling a struggling Aran with him. One meaty hand on the Defence professor's back collar, Hagrid didn't stop walking until he could plunk the man down squarely in front of the headmaster, who had stood up from his chair to walk into the middle of the duelling field.
Dumbledore touched his wand briefly to his throat. "Good morning, Professor Aran," he said pleasantly, his blue eyes twinkling so much that Harry could see it even at a distance. "My, my. You look a mess. Whatever can have happened?"
"Caught 'im in the Dark Forest," said Hagrid, his outraged voice easily carrying the length of the duelling field. "Tryin' ta flee, 'e was, like the no-good scallywag 'e is! And no wonder, after what all 'e said about our Harry 'ere! As if the boy's father wouldn't 'ave a thing or two ta say 'bout that! Or me, eh! How'd you like that, Aran, an honest fight, man to man? I'll take you, I will--"
"Thank you, Hagrid, but I think that will do," said Dumbledore calmly. And then, to Aran, "Professor, honestly. You're a teacher of impressionable youth. Don't you think that trying to evade a legitimately issued challenge sets them rather a bad example?"
"You placed the wards," screeched Aran. "The Floos, the Apparition boundary! I thought it was that devil Snape--"
"Now there's a sound approach," drawled Snape loudly. "Insult me right again before we duel. Brilliant, Aaron."
Aran whirled on a heel. "That's Aran to you!"
Snape gave an eloquent shrug, as if to say, Aaron, Aran, how can you tell the difference?
"I set the wards," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard as he nodded. "Everywhere except the Dark Forest. So you fled through there and were caught by . . . an enraged elm, from the look of you. Well, you're here now, so all's well in the world. Shall we begin?"
"I won't duel him!" shrieked Aran. "And you can't make me!"
"Actually, I can," returned the headmaster, still smiling like he'd taken a silly potion. "You're employed by Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and under the terms of the Hogwarts Charter, paragraph nineteen thousand and sixty five, subparagraph d, I'm fully empowered to--"
"I resign!"
"Oh, I really will need that in writing," murmured Dumbledore, though thanks to Sonorus his voice still carried. "The Charter again. I'm sure you understand. Pity you haven't time to write anything out at the moment, Professor--"
"You still can't make me duel," said Aran, though by then he sounded more sullen than convinced.
"Professor Aran, is it truly your wish to lose every trace of magical talent? If Severus is disposed to kill you, he'll do it whether you fight him or not. Might I point out that the one thing you can do to increase the odds of dying is to flee? Nothing annoys Severus quite so much as blatant cowardice."