Chapter Two
Draco Malfoy, Harry was sure it was indeed him somehow, sat ruffled on the stone floor, ash-blonde hair untidy and falling into his round grey eyes, legs entangled in a pair of black slacks which, although shrunken as he seemed to have been, were overly large on him. As the whole room stood in silent shock, staring incredulously at the child, Harry, having taken everything in in a heartbeat or so due to the fact his body thought he was in danger, surprised himself.
He stared at the tiny figure and felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. The fact that the child's clothes were far too big hit home, and it stung. He'd spent his entire life wearing clothes that were too big for him, and as the mini-Draco tried again in vain to get up, obviously feeling vulnerable and exposed so low down compared to the room filled with large people, Harry's chest seemed to curl into a knot and try to choke him. Still, nobody seemed able to move, not even to help the child get up, and those large grey eyes darted between all of them helplessly. The child fell again, and this time shuffled backwards a little, putting distance between himself and the others as he proceeded to try again to reach his feet.
Harry looked to Snape, impatient, but the man seemed positively stricken, his black eyes shocked and wide, lips slightly parted, face paler than usual. The still air had gone on long enough for Harry. He was tense and on edge from the heat in his Scar, bursting with a burning need to do something. He swallowed, and glanced back down at the child, who looked so helplessly out of his depth, and opened his mouth.
"Professor?"
Everybody in the room visibly winced at the sudden sound, loud despite being softly spoken. Harry hadn't heard the whispering die. His tentative question broke the spell, and chaos erupted. Harry took his turn to wince at the sudden onslaught of sound, but felt his stomach clench at the expression of fear on the child's face. Snape strode swiftly towards the small child, wand drawn and expression grim. The child inexplicably looked to Harry with overly-shiny grey eyes and drew himself up, and the action was so telling and so very Malfoy that suddenly Harry felt the surreality fade. For him, at least.
"Quiet! Be quiet! You, child! State your name!" snapped Snape, and Harry felt an unexpected surge of anger towards the Professor. Oh sure, he hated Snape, but to speak to a small child like that? The thing looked almost a baby, barely a toddler. Harry choked on his next breath when the child swallowed and stated, in a surprisingly confident, albeit very small voice that his name was "Draco Lucius Malfoy."
The mad whispering grew even more frenzied than before as people started pushing forwards while battling to keep at what felt a safe distance. Had he not felt so serious, Harry might have laughed at the sight. Some Slytherins especially were giving Harry's senses the distinct impression that the child, that Malfoy was suddenly their sole interest, and Harry was suspicious it was not completely in a good way. It was be just like the Slytherins he knew to take advantage of any weakness, even of those who were supposed to be their friends.
As if to prove him right, Pansy Parkinson shoved to the front and opened her mouth to say something which Harry felt sure would be to call the child or tell Snape to hand him over. He made a snap-fire decision on gut instinct, as was his tendency. Something else, he thought, briefly and sarcastically, that he actually could do when the time called for it. Striding forward so as to beat Pansy to the punch, Harry approached the Malfoy child and somehow managed enough grace to sweep him up, startled when the child reached for him too, with hands half-hidden in the too-long sleeves of his little white dress-shirt, and practically threw his compact little body into Harry's grip.
And of course, now, not entirely sure what had possessed him to now be facing off his most hated Professor and his classmates, while also bizarrely cradling a child-version of his nemesis, Harry had to wait the inevitable three seconds of silence before the obvious storm of an inter-house battle pounced into being, right there in the Potions class.
"Potter!" screeched Pansy. "Put him down this instant!"
Harry shot her a glare as her voice caused the child to whimper.
"You're scaring him!" he snapped back, as the child hid his face in Harry's robes.
Harry felt his anger boiling in his stomach, a heavy sense of injustice making it hard to breathe. The shouting in the room erupted, and Harry panicked about the fact that he'd be unable to draw his wand very quickly should this turn into a proper duel. He doubted his Housemates would actually fire on him, but Slytherins were not known for missing a chance to get a leg up on the competition.
"Potter! What on earth do you think you're doing? Unhand that child at once!" roared Snape, and Harry was startled to find that the usually stoic and snarky Professor looked almost human, something very like fear written in his eyes. Still, Harry held the child closer and shook his head firmly, swallowing his own fear at the sight of Snape's wand still gripped firmly in hand. What did the greasy git think he'd do? Attack a child? Wasn't anyone aware that he, of all people, would be vehemently against the attacking of infants? Snape's obsidian eyes flashed dangerously.
"No." stated Harry, turning his body away a little, protective of the now-trembling child in his arms. The child turned his face further into Harry's shoulder and pressed closer. Harry's anger rose. It wasn't fair. Nobody should frighten a child this small, make him feel so... so... he swallowed as the uncomfortable cold wash of memory flooded his senses. So alone.
"Potter!"
"You're frightening him, stop shouting!" roared Harry, aware of the hypocrisy of his words. The Gryffindors in the classroom immediately snapped their mouths shut, even though he could see their reluctance and the words in their eyes, and the hunger for answers in Hermione's especially.