Chapter 4
“NO! I am NOT your student to command, I have never met you, and I had no desire to meet you! I will go NOWHERE with you without ma Mère, and I would prefer Madame Maxime be present for anything you want to say to me!”
Half the hall was already watching the drama unfold, and Harry was vaguely surprised to notice most of the Slytherins were listening attentively. No matter; Harry was going nowhere willingly with the man who left him on a doorstep. This man had no right to demand an audience with him, and he would make his objections as loud and visible as possible. Hopefully, if Fleur wasn't available, someone else would contact his Mother or his Headmistress.
“Now, Harry, you should have been my student…” Dumbledore's attempt at placation only incensed Harry further.
“How DARE you say that I should have been your student! If you cared so much for my presence, you shouldn't have left me on the doorstep of Magic-Hating Muggles in the middle of the night! If you cared so much for me, you should have made sure I was SAFE! I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU!”
His voice cracked as he addressed his fellow students, Sonorous charm applied non-verbally. “This man has abandoned a baby on a doorstep and failed to monitor the child's safety. This man has, apparently, failed to monitor the child's safety for over a decade. I implore any student who values children to denounce this man!”
As Dumbledore attempted to silence him, he saw a wave begin.
“The House of Malfoy stands with Harry Potter-Delacour. Children are a Gift!”
“The House of Nott stands with Harry Potter-Delacour. Children should be protected at all costs.”
All of Slytherin was standing, appalled at the idea that a child would be less than cherished.
“House of Pucey!”
“House of Flint!”
“House of Greengrass!”
As the Heirs and Heiresses of Slytherin families declared their support, the heirs of other families followed suit. Across the hall, students were standing, whether as their Heirship or as their own conscience dictated.
As Dumbledore slunk off to the Head Table, Harry suspected he hadn't seen the last of the man. He could only hope that the other students would help if necessary.
*****
Draco Malfoy cornered him in the halls the next day.
“Potter-Delacour, I'd like to speak with you, if you have a moment.” At Harry's shocked eyebrow, he added, “Please,” completely misinterpreting Harry's shock.
“Why do you want to speak to me? You've shown no inclination to speak to me since I arrived. I had no desire to enter this ridiculous tournament, especially since it would take attention away from my sister, who deserves to be here!”
“What? No! It's nothing to do with that. You seemed like you didn't want to talk to anyone, and Slytherins mostly know better than to harass a certified Apprentice. I know I wouldn't want to test myself against you unless it was a friendly competition. You'd wipe the floor with me, and I'm not trying to die today…
“Your sister has the respect of Slytherin, as we assumed she earned her place on Beauxbatons’ List. Why would they send anything less than their best possible candidates?
“No, it's obvious you dislike our Headmaster, and while I don't disagree for my own reasons, I would like to know what yours are…
“I feel as if we've only gotten part of the story, but one thing I can say for certain is that the Malfoy Family does NOT condone child abuse, and my father would have moved heaven and earth to take in any child from an insufficient home, regardless of blood status. I remember my mother weeping when their petitions to adopt or foster children were denied. I remember sitting in the spectators section when it was decided that children would be ‘better off dead than raised by Malfoys.’
“Do you know how many funerals of Muggleborn or Muggle-raised children I've attended? I do. In case you were wondering… the number is TWENTY-SEVEN. Twenty-seven children who could have grown up being loved. Twenty-seven children who could be making their mark on the world. Twenty-seven children who didn't have to die. Twenty-seven children who I number as my siblings, who died because someone didn't care if they lived…”
Harry watched as Malfoy - Draco - pulled a heavily-creased parchment from his pocket and duplicated it. He handed it to Harry, looking thoroughly shaken, and Harry stared, fascinated.
“These are my siblings, and I say their names every night, praying that the gods and goddesses are protecting them in their gentle arms, keeping them safe and letting them know they are loved.
“So, yes, Harry Potter-Delacour, I'd like to talk to you, if only so I can help save Number Twenty-Eight.”
Harry watched as the seemingly stone-cold Draco Malfoy swiped tears from his eyes, entirely uncaring about the packed hallway, and he wondered.
Against his own will, he called out.
“Draco?”
At the blond's head turn, he continued, subdued.
“I was almost number Twenty-Eight.”