Aspen in the Sunlight - A Year Like None Other

"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."

"Ha," said Harry under his breath. "Nothing annoys him as much as blatant Gryffindor bravery."

Draco's lips quirked, just a little.

Aran glanced at Snape, who was still standing perfectly composed. And then Aran threw his shoulders back as his eyes narrowed. "It's only Slytherin to choose one's battles. I'd think you of all wizards would know that, Snape."

"It's not Slytherin when you can't choose," returned Snape in a silky voice. "Are you done whingeing, Aaron? I've other things to do today, you understand."

"Fine!" Aran began stomping his way to his place on the duelling field.

Snape's upper lip curled in contempt. "Finally."

"Here, let me have Sals back," Harry said to Larissa. Really, he'd rather she play with the snake if it would keep her happy, but Draco was probably right about decorum. Harry did know how much Snape valued it.

Larissa frowned as she handed Sals over and watched Harry tuck the little snake into a pocket.

On the duelling field, Aran looked ready. "You just might be in for a surprise!" he called, sneering. "You don't know what tricks I have up my sleeve!"

"What I know," drawled Snape, "is that your sleeves are shredded. Pity you didn't come properly attired, Aaron . Shouldn't you take that off that rag of a robe before we begin?"

Harry thought he'd never seen Aran looking so annoyed as he shrugged out of his torn robe and threw it to the side, growling. A house elf appeared from nowhere and gathered it up, then vanished.