Little Steps (1/15)
Title: Little Steps (1/15)
Author: faynia
Pairing: Snape/Harry, references to past Draco/Harry, and Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4788
Genre: Drama, humor, angst, eventual Romance
Summary: A potions accident turned Snape into a toddler, and now Harry is expected to look after a young Severus until the potion wears off.
A/N: Some of you may have read the original version of this fic *coughs* sev0109*coughs*, and you will notice right away the difference three years can make in one's writing. The completed unedited, unbeta'd version can be read here on fanfiction.net.
With that in mind, I'd like to thank my two lovely beta readers topazmusings and windout.
Chapter One: The Incident
“Mister Potter, please pay attention!” Harry jerked his head up from the scrap of parchment he had been doodling on. Hermione snorted beside him and he shot her a pissed-off glare. She could have warned him, at the very least, that McGonagall was coming towards them. He gave her arm a pinch and the resulting squeak made him smirk.
Hurriedly, before their annoyed professor could reach his and Hermione’s workstation, he crumpled up the lazy, and bad, drawing and crammed it into his pocket. Luckily, as it looked like McGonagall was going to begin ranting at him, the door to the class opened and a tiny girl in a Hufflepuff uniform poked her head through the door.
“Excuse me, Professor,” she said timidly. Her gaze swept about the intrigued seventh year class in a nervous gesture as she stepped further through the door. Harry watched her with a bored look, thinking that at least McGonagall’s attention was successfully diverted. He went to quickly jot down the notes on the chalkboard that he had missed, but before he could even copy the first word, the girl finished her train of thought. “Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with Harry Potter.”
Harry exhaled in a sigh. Why was it always him? It could never be anyone else that Dumbledore needed to see, could it? Resigned to his fate, he started stacking his notes together and slipped them inside the Transfiguration text.
"Very well.” The elderly woman pursed her lips and pointed a finger at Harry. “You heard Miss Connelly, Potter, go see Professor Dumbledore."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said as he gathered his books together. Standing rapidly, the chair slid backwards with a screech. He winced while picking up the cumbersome books from the desk. Almost dropping his charms book in the process (he swore that the thing weighed a bloody hundredweight), he placed all of them under his arm. Hermione gave him an inquisitive look that he answered with a shrug before hefting his bag off the floor. He didn’t know what he was needed for any better than she did. Without a backwards glance, he exited the classroom into the empty corridor. It had been a peculiarly long period of time since he'd had to visit Dumbledore’s office for anything at all. He hadn’t even been invited up for a chat and a cup of tea. Harry supposed that no news was good news, but, then again, not every visit to the headmaster’s tower had consisted of bad news.
He walked at a steady pace down the corridors, his fingers occasionally dragging against the rough stonewalls as he went through all the possibilities. There had been few Death Eater attacks recently, which bothered Harry, but he doubted that the lack of movement would be reason to have Dumbledore take him out of a class. If the elderly man wanted to talk about that, he could just as easily corner Harry after meals. No, this wasn’t going to be about that, at least he highly doubted it would be. He rubbed the tip of his nose as he reached the long hall before Dumbledore’s office.
His grades had been steady, if not better than in years past, so that wasn’t it. Snape could have complained about his utter lack of talent in potions making and have demanded his immediate removal from his prestigious classroom. If that were the case, then once again, Dumbledore would not have pulled him from Transfiguration. He hadn’t done anything remotely stupid in the past week either. Well, dumping a hair color-changing potion into Pansy Parkinson’s pumpkin juice at breakfast, and then mocking her new red hair, might have been a tad stupid, but Snape had already disciplined him for that.
Completely baffled, he reached the guardian gargoyle and was forced to stop his mental wondering long enough to hazard a guess at the password. It was annoying that the headmaster was making him wait out in the hall to guess the stupid password; but Harry did so, because he was certain that Dumbledore got a good laugh while waiting for him. Once he exhausted the list of magical candies, he delved into the Muggle ones, convinced that he’d be guessing until supper. He was half tempted to just kick the gargoyle and sit at the base of it until Dumbledore fetched him.
“This is stupid,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair in an agitated manner. He glanced around the empty corridor, not amused with the current situation. He decided that kicking the statue would result in more pain than it was worth, and settled for glaring at it before he leaned against the wall. If Dumbledore needed to see him that badly, he could come down and fetch him. He closed his eyes and crossed his legs at the ankle.
“The password is 'Razzles.'”
The sound of stone grating against stone met his ears as the gargoyle moved out of the way to reveal the winding stairs to Dumbledore’s office.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, taking his sweet time about it. “Oh?” he queried, finally meeting the headmaster’s level gaze. Dumbledore smiled jovially and gestured towards the opening. Harry took the silent cue and headed up the stairs. The fact that Dumbledore had been nearby to witness his half-hearted attempt at guessing the password irked him, but he let it go.
"Harry, how are you my dear boy?" Dumbledore finally asked as he sat down behind his desk.
"Fine, sir," Harry responded before taking the empty seat across from the old man. He noticed that the obnoxious sparkle in the man’s blue eyes was even more pronounced then normal. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that whatever the discussion was about, it wouldn't be bad; but, on the other hand, it scared the piss out of him, because it could only mean Dumbledore was going to ask him a favor.
"Lemon drop?"
Harry shook his head ‘no’. It seemed idiotic to him that Dumbledore even offered them to him any more; he hadn’t taken one since his second year. He hadn’t even particularly like them then because they were too tart. The headmaster shrugged and popped one of the yellow candies into his mouth with a content smile.
There was only so much patience one could have in these situations, and Harry was rapidly reaching his limit. He drummed his fingers along the arm of the chair with an idle expression as he waited for Dumbledore to speak again. When he realized that the hoary old man wouldn’t speak without his speaking first, Harry gave up.
“What happened this time, sir?” he asked warily. He had no delusions that this meeting would either end in a volley of questions from both sides, or with a daunting task. He prayed for a daunting task, because daunting was better than getting a headache.
“Happened?” Dumbledore questioned with an innocently perplexed expression that Harry didn’t buy for a second. He’d bet all his gold in Gringotts that the man was hiding something from him.
“Don’t play dumb with me, sir,” Harry said calmly. “Something happened. Why else would you call me here in the middle of class?”
Dumbledore grinned and flashed Harry teeth that he hadn’t known existed until that moment. Harry wasn’t sure if he should be horrified or amused that he found Harry’s sudden bout of wisdom so pleasing.
“Ah well. I suppose you would like me to get straight to the point, wouldn’t you?”
Harry snorted. He refrained from saying “for once,” knowing that that would only delay things further. He nodded curtly and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap. It bothered him how Snape-like that movement was, but he gave no outward sign of the thought.
“There is a small favor I need you to do for me.” Harry raised a brow expectantly. If Dumbledore thought he would agree without a little more information, he was sorely mistaken. He had learned well enough that the crazy old man’s “small favors” usually turned into monumental, perhaps even life-threatening tasks.
For once, Dumbledore plunged right ahead without waiting for much of an answer. “If you would follow me, I shall answer any questions you have.”
Harry nodded dumbly and stood from his seat. What else could he do? It was unlikely that he would ever get a straight answer from the headmaster by just staring him down; he had nothing to lose by following the implied command.
“Sir?” he asked as the neared the bottom of the winding steps. “Where are you taking me?”
“No need to worry, Harry. We are not leaving the castle.”
“And that’s not cause for alarm?”
Dumbledore shot him a deeply amused look. Harry rolled his eyes and fell silent. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get the answers he expected.
Drawing closer to the hospital wing, Harry glanced at Dumbledore with a combination of curiosity and concern. Why were they there? The content smile had not left the elderly man’s face once on their almost silent journey through the castle, but that didn’t mean anything. There was no question in anyone’s mind that Dumbledore was a little on the odd side, eccentric maybe, so that alone could explain why nearing the school’s infirmary would be a cause to smile.
"Sir, what's going on?" Harry asked nervously.
Dumbledore slowed to a stop outside the large doors, his light blue robes swishing around his feet. “What do you mean, Harry?” The question was asked in such a serene tone that Harry didn’t even bother to answer with more than a shrug. He just didn’t like the hospital wing, and no one could blame him. He rubbed his arm awkwardly as he waited for the wizened old man to make his next move.
Harry folded his arms across his chest. Dumbledore stroked his long white beard in a motion that did nothing to soothe Harry’s frayed nerves. He wanted answers, and now he was left with more questions. It wasn’t fair. Dumbledore hadn’t even said anything yet! Usually, that effect didn’t happen until after a meeting with the headmaster was adjourned.
“May I repeat myself, professor?” Harry asked with the same manner of one inquiring over someone’s day. He wouldn’t say that he was angry, but he was very, very annoyed. Not even waiting for a nod or a verbal reply, Harry continued, “What is going on?”
“You’ll see.”
“Do you enjoy making people nervous?” Harry groused.
Dumbledore smiled. “I do seem to have that uncanny ability, don’t I?”
Harry nodded, and before he was allowed to say anything more, the wily old coot had entered the hospital wing and left him standing out in the empty corridor alone. He rolled his eyes, content with leaning against the cool stone for the time being. Dumbledore better have a grand and flowery explanation as to why he left Harry outside when he came back out.
He rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated fashion as he strained to hear what was going on, but knew it was fruitless. The doors had one of the most powerful silencing charms in the entire school. He supposed that they weren’t always there, but between the current war and the last one, they were needed to keep the pained screams from reaching the rest of the school. It wouldn’t do to have every day functions interrupted by patient’s cries.
He paced in front of the large oak doors, twisting the hem of his robes with each turn. He paused and turned to face the doors when they began to open. His first thought was that someone had slipped a potion in his pumpkin juice that morning, and that was why he was seeing Dumbledore, the greatest wizard the world had ever known, carrying a toddler on his hip. Harry’s second idea was that his first idea was stupid, which led to the question of why Dumbledore was holding a squirming little boy in the first place.
Harry didn’t get much time to think this through either.
"Har-wy!" The black haired toddler squealed with delight as he wiggled around in Dumbledore’s arms and made impatient noises.
All right, so maybe the potion in the pumpkin juice that morning wasn’t such a shoddy idea after all, because there was no other reasonable explanation for this predicament. He certainly didn’t recognize the tiny lad, and he was almost positive that if one of the Weasley’s had reproduced in the past two years, he would have a) been informed and b) thought that their child would not have black hair.
Harry watched suspiciously as the headmaster lowered the impatient child to the cold floor.
“Har-wy!” he cried happiness written all over the boy’s expression. He toddled over to Harry and wrapped his little arms around Harry’s legs, burying his face in Harry’s thigh. “You come!”
Harry didn’t know what to do beyond pat the little boy awkwardly on the head. “Course I did.” He shot the headmaster an irritated look that clearly said he was expecting answers, now.
“Severus has been very persistent in voicing just who he wanted to see most,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling . Snape beamed up at Harry, revealing a perfect row of white baby teeth and a very familiar crooked nose. Harry’s hand stilled on its journey through the soft black hair as he swiftly started to think up all plausible reasons for Snape, a miniature one at that, wanting to see him. Of course after two seconds, he knew he’d come up with nothing.
When it became apparent Snape would no sooner relinquish his hold on Harry’s legs than a grindylow, he resigned himself to lifting the toddler off the floor. He glared at Dumbledore, as if this were somehow his fault. Snape had no reasonable need to want him, as a man or as a child, unless the headmaster forced him into it. But, what could the headmaster have told a mere child that would make him cling to Harry like glue between fingers?
Severus was playing with the clasp on Harry’s cloak and appeared particularly delighted when it came undone. Harry sighed and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips despite himself. Severus grinned wildly in response and with another resounding cry of “Har-wy!” placed a smacking kiss on Harry’s cheek.
Harry’s expression froze in shock and Severus must have noticed this as well, for he suddenly shied away from him. Harry softened his expression and Dumbledore diffused the situation with a well-timed lollipop. With Severus sucking merrily at the pop, Harry finally got the opportunity to pester Dumbledore for more answers.
“Sir, what happened to Professor Snape?” he asked, adjusting Snape on his hip. “Because the last time I checked Snape was in his mid-thirties with no love lost for me or sugary sweets,” he added as he felt small, sticky fingers start to play with the hair that curled behind Harry’s ear.
"That is a story best saved for my office, don’t you agree?”
Harry nodded curtly and followed alongside the old man as they headed back towards his office. There were some things that just shouldn’t be said in open corridors. He couldn’t be sure if Dumbledore was trying to hide the fact that the Potions Master was no longer himself or not.
Harry heard footsteps approaching behind him and he turned around just in time to see Ron and Hermione running down the hall. Snape was still happily sucking away at the lollipop, and eyeing the incoming seventh years warily.
“Harry!” Ron called with an enthusiastic wave. Harry wondered what had the lanky red head in such a good mood. Hermione looked about ready to hit Ron at the least provocation. “You’ll never guess what happened?”
“Snape is a toddler and classes have been canceled?” he asked with an indulgent smile.
Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But how? You never made it down to the dungeons, mate. How’d you even know?”
“Ron, are you really that thick?” Hermione groused, smacking the taller boy’s arm. “Look at the little boy in Harry’s arms. Who do you think that is?”
”That’s, but...no, that can’t be Snape!”
“Sev-us,” the two-year-old corrected around the lolly in his mouth. There was silence when the three friends stared at one another in shock and annoyance.
Snape clutched at Harry’s robes tight enough to strangle him. After his last outburst, he found it strangely amusing that the child would be so shy. He grabbed the tiny, sticky fingers and pried them from his collar, letting oxygen flow freely again. Harry kept his fingers curled around the smaller ones and brought the hand to his chest, adjusting Snape on his hip once again.
“Severus, would you like to meet my friends?”
“Fwind?”
Harry nodded with a bright, encouraging smile. Really, it was so incredibly hard to hate Snape when he was looking up at you from a child’s face with a lollipop in his mouth. “That’s right, my friends.”
He locked eyes with Hermione and her surly expression softened into a gentle smile for the black-haired toddler. Snape relaxed and looked up at him in curiosity. He smiled the same encouraging smile he had earlier and Snape turned his attention back onto Hermione, even as he pressed himself closer to Harry.
"Hello, Severus. I’m Hermione,” she said with a patient and warm smile. Snape seemed to be trying to formulate a response to this. Harry felt relief run through him. At least he knew that one of his friends knew a thing or two about kids, because he knew nothing at all.
"Har-wy," Snape said quietly, tugging on Harry's school robe to get his attention. Harry smiled down into the frowning face of the now young Severus Snape. "Har-wy!" he hissed, tugging harder. Harry placed the wiggling boy on the ground, and squatted as well, so they were at eye level.
“What?" Harry asked in a hushed tone, playing along with Snape’s sudden secrecy. Hermione was struggling to hold back her laughter when Harry glanced up at her. He rolled his eyes and gazed back at Snape with an extremely serious face. The little boy seemed fit to burst from giggles and Harry wanted to hug him tight.
“She nice?”
Harry nodded. “Very nice.”
Snape seemed to be thinking hard on this when he turned to face Hermione. “You nice?”
“I’d like to think so,” she answered still smiling. Harry stood up and watched as Snape cautiously latched onto her hand. Hermione squeezed the smaller hand and glanced over at Harry who took Snape’s other free hand in his. Snape looked up at him in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Harry to do so on his own. So many questions banged around the inside of his head as he looked up at Dumbledore who had been waiting quietly. He wasn’t unsurprised to see the man glowing with pride, as it didn’t take much these days to get into Dumbledore’s good graces.
Suddenly, Harry wasn’t entirely sure he was cut out for this.
“Swing me!” Snape cried, pulling their arms backwards before running forward again without waiting for their consent. Harry and Hermione couldn’t do anything but comply with the request, and they lifted the two-year-old in the air so that he swung forward and back before his feet hit the ground again.
Ron caught Harry’s eyes and nodded once, before gaining the headmaster’s attention and pulling him away. Harry continued to swing Snape with Hermione as he watched the proceedings. The little boy was oblivious to the events going on in his surroundings as Harry shared a concerned look with the frizzy brunette.
“Har-wy?”
Harry dropped his gaze down into Snape’s upturned face. He brushed a stray lock of black hair off the boy’s face, earning a beaming smile. Harry scrunched his nose and Snape giggled.
At that moment, he would have killed the first person who so much as breathed wrong in this child’s direction. He didn’t want the responsibility of caring for this miniature person, but he didn’t want anyone else to care for him either. No one had ever seen Snape so much as smile before, and to see him do it now, even if he was only a child, felt like a privilege. Hermione’s stunned and amazed look told him she felt the same way. “What Severus?”
“I likes her.”
Hermione’s smile outshone the candles lining the walls. A rush of jealousy hit fast, but passed just as quick. There wasn’t a reason for him to be jealous. He didn’t even like Snape, older or younger. All right, he’d admit he liked younger Snape a lot more than his surly counterpart.
Liar!
Harry ignored his inner voice. Now was not the time to be thinking on that; now was a time to be worrying about Professor Snape's current situation and what he was going to do about it now. He had to think about the toddler that had so suddenly appeared in his life. That scared him; he wasn't even sure he liked children.
“If I may cut in, I believe you had some questions, Harry?”
“Yes, headmaster,” Harry replied with a decisive nod, leaving his inner troubles alone for a moment.
“Best continue on to my office then,” Dumbledore said, gesturing grandly down the hall towards the stone gargoyle.
Harry looked over at Ron who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Want up, Har-wy. Up!” Harry obeyed, picking the two-year-old up off the floor. He followed behind Dumbledore with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. Their heads were bent, and they whispered to one another furiously for a moment, before coming to an abrupt silence when they noticed Harry watching them.
Harry quirked a brow, but didn't ask. He really didn't want to know what they had been saying. The last time he had asked, they had turned beet red and muttered something about bras, and that was all it took for him to never ask them what they were about whispering again.
Dumbledore ushered the students into his office with a genial smile that made Harry wary once more. He stood off to the side, bouncing Snape on his hip idly as his friends took the two chairs. He didn't mind; the way Snape was squirming, it meant that he wouldn't accept being held for much longer. Harry settled himself on the floor between Ron and Hermione and released Snape, who--instead of taking off at a run like Harry had expected him to--remained seated on Harry's lap. His curious gaze took in the oval office with all its odd trinkets and Harry could almost feel the toddler's intrigue and intent.
"Professor, what exactly happened?" he asked, never removing his gaze from Snape, who had left his lap and was currently toddling around the room. He frowned when Snape tried to grab at a brass telescope and hastily got to his feet and picked the little boy up.
The venerated headmaster sighed and took off his half moon spectacles to rub at his eyes. "From what I gathered, there was a bit of a mishap with an aging potion in Severus's morning Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class. No one else was affected by the blast, but the Potion's classroom is in shambles. The classes for the rest of the day have been canceled until we can find a suitable replacement."
"Snape, er Professor Snape, sorry," Harry smiled ruefully at Dumbledore. Snape, in the mean time, seemed to have decided that falling asleep on Harry's leg was a brilliant idea. Not that Harry really had it in him to push him away. He brushed a wisp of black hair away from the boy's nose before he could sneeze and wake back up again. "He's not going to be happy, is he?"
"No, I think not, but he'll get over it with time."
"That's very optimistic, sir."
Ron snorted and Harry grinned up at his friend.
"You have something you'd like to add, Mr. Weasley?"
"N-actually, yes, sir. I do."
"Well then, a question's not worth having if it isn't asked."
"Why Harry, Professor, why not you? Why would Professor Snape want Harry?"
"Excellent question, my boy, one which I don't have the answer to, I'm afraid."
"Figures," Harry muttered into Snape's hair.
"Professor, I have a question as well," Hermione piped in. Harry trusted her to ask what he hadn't thought of yet, and he was certain there were many things he hadn't asked yet.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"The potion, how does it work exactly?"
"I'm glad you asked. You see, the de-aging potion is not on the curriculum and only a handful of highly trained wizards know how to produce one. As you can see, in the wrong hands, the potion could have devastating effects. Not only does the body age down, but so does the mind, rendering the victim helpless. Imagine what this potion could do in the hands of Voldemort." Ron flinched and Hermione's fingers tightened on the arms of her chair, but those were the only indications that the name had any ill effect on them. Harry, for his part, was lost in thought. Dumbledore had brought up a good point, while this may have been an accident, what if a Death Eater managed to figure out the same fault in the aging potion? All they'd have to do is throw it at an Auror or Order member and they would be a toddler, no longer able to defend him or herself.
"The light side would fall," Harry said quietly. "There would be no defense against it."
"Harry--"
"It's all right, Hermione. It's not exactly like there are Death Eaters in this room spying on us and getting ideas."
"Right you are, Harry." Damn twinkle, Harry thought, attempting not to feel affected by the pride in Dumbledore's tone. "Now, are there any more questions?"
"Yeah, I have one," Ron answered. "Will he grow?"
Hermione looked impressed, and Harry had to admit that he was as well. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind. It would be hard enough taking care of Snape at two, but what if the boy kept aging until he was older than Harry again. That would be horribly awkward, even more awkward than if Snape stayed two until an antidote was found and then suddenly shot back to being middle aged.
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Is there a problem?"
Harry nodded, lifting the sleeping Snape off his right leg. It had fallen asleep sometime ago without him noticing and he regretted not moving Snape sooner. "Yeah, I have one. I'm expected to take care of him right?"
"I was going to ask if you would. Why? Will this be a problem?"
"I-no, sir."
"Good, if you have any problems just ask me or Professor McGonagall and we'll take him from you."
If Harry's grip got a bit tighter around the two-year-old, no one commented on it. "Yes, sir."
"Splendid! Now," Dumbledore said in a business-like manner, fingers steepled as he stared down at the three seventh years before him. "I feel it's important that you know that Severus shall only reach the age of five."
“Five? Why only five-years-old? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the potion to make him relive all his childhood and adolescence?” Hermione asked, kicking Ron’s calf when he made a grunt of dislike.
“Would it?” Dumbledore eyed her curiously. Hermione shrugged and dug her heel into Ron’s toes when he sniggered. He yelped and glared at his girlfriend, who continued to meet the headmaster’s stare. Her cheeks were suffused with a light blush, but that was the only indication of her guilt. Dumbledore’s eyes were glittering like mad by this point. “I trust you’ll both help young Harry here with his new charge?”
“Oh they’ll help all right, sir,” Harry said, delighting in the ashen color of Ron’s face and the look of determination in Hermione’s. He knew it wouldn’t take much effort on her part to convince Ron. Really, there was only so long she could withhold sex before he caved.
“We will?” Ron squeaked, giving Hermione a pleading look.
Hermione nodded firmly, ignoring the kicked puppy look on Ron’s face. “Of course we’ll help, Harry. Right, Ron?”
She smiled at him, showing all her teeth. Harry winced in sympathy. Ron nodded frantically, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, course we will,” he agreed, throwing Harry a small scowl. Harry hoped Ron got over himself soon, or else he’d be seeing a lot less of his best friend in the next few weeks.
Snape’s light snore broke the anxious tension and Harry relaxed. Whatever would come, would come. There was no stopping the inevitable now.
Author: faynia
Pairing: Snape/Harry, references to past Draco/Harry, and Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4788
Genre: Drama, humor, angst, eventual Romance
Summary: A potions accident turned Snape into a toddler, and now Harry is expected to look after a young Severus until the potion wears off.
A/N: Some of you may have read the original version of this fic *coughs* sev0109*coughs*, and you will notice right away the difference three years can make in one's writing. The completed unedited, unbeta'd version can be read here on fanfiction.net.
With that in mind, I'd like to thank my two lovely beta readers topazmusings and windout.
Chapter One: The Incident
“Mister Potter, please pay attention!” Harry jerked his head up from the scrap of parchment he had been doodling on. Hermione snorted beside him and he shot her a pissed-off glare. She could have warned him, at the very least, that McGonagall was coming towards them. He gave her arm a pinch and the resulting squeak made him smirk.
Hurriedly, before their annoyed professor could reach his and Hermione’s workstation, he crumpled up the lazy, and bad, drawing and crammed it into his pocket. Luckily, as it looked like McGonagall was going to begin ranting at him, the door to the class opened and a tiny girl in a Hufflepuff uniform poked her head through the door.
“Excuse me, Professor,” she said timidly. Her gaze swept about the intrigued seventh year class in a nervous gesture as she stepped further through the door. Harry watched her with a bored look, thinking that at least McGonagall’s attention was successfully diverted. He went to quickly jot down the notes on the chalkboard that he had missed, but before he could even copy the first word, the girl finished her train of thought. “Professor Dumbledore wants to speak with Harry Potter.”
Harry exhaled in a sigh. Why was it always him? It could never be anyone else that Dumbledore needed to see, could it? Resigned to his fate, he started stacking his notes together and slipped them inside the Transfiguration text.
"Very well.” The elderly woman pursed her lips and pointed a finger at Harry. “You heard Miss Connelly, Potter, go see Professor Dumbledore."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said as he gathered his books together. Standing rapidly, the chair slid backwards with a screech. He winced while picking up the cumbersome books from the desk. Almost dropping his charms book in the process (he swore that the thing weighed a bloody hundredweight), he placed all of them under his arm. Hermione gave him an inquisitive look that he answered with a shrug before hefting his bag off the floor. He didn’t know what he was needed for any better than she did. Without a backwards glance, he exited the classroom into the empty corridor. It had been a peculiarly long period of time since he'd had to visit Dumbledore’s office for anything at all. He hadn’t even been invited up for a chat and a cup of tea. Harry supposed that no news was good news, but, then again, not every visit to the headmaster’s tower had consisted of bad news.
He walked at a steady pace down the corridors, his fingers occasionally dragging against the rough stonewalls as he went through all the possibilities. There had been few Death Eater attacks recently, which bothered Harry, but he doubted that the lack of movement would be reason to have Dumbledore take him out of a class. If the elderly man wanted to talk about that, he could just as easily corner Harry after meals. No, this wasn’t going to be about that, at least he highly doubted it would be. He rubbed the tip of his nose as he reached the long hall before Dumbledore’s office.
His grades had been steady, if not better than in years past, so that wasn’t it. Snape could have complained about his utter lack of talent in potions making and have demanded his immediate removal from his prestigious classroom. If that were the case, then once again, Dumbledore would not have pulled him from Transfiguration. He hadn’t done anything remotely stupid in the past week either. Well, dumping a hair color-changing potion into Pansy Parkinson’s pumpkin juice at breakfast, and then mocking her new red hair, might have been a tad stupid, but Snape had already disciplined him for that.
Completely baffled, he reached the guardian gargoyle and was forced to stop his mental wondering long enough to hazard a guess at the password. It was annoying that the headmaster was making him wait out in the hall to guess the stupid password; but Harry did so, because he was certain that Dumbledore got a good laugh while waiting for him. Once he exhausted the list of magical candies, he delved into the Muggle ones, convinced that he’d be guessing until supper. He was half tempted to just kick the gargoyle and sit at the base of it until Dumbledore fetched him.
“This is stupid,” he grumbled, running his hand through his hair in an agitated manner. He glanced around the empty corridor, not amused with the current situation. He decided that kicking the statue would result in more pain than it was worth, and settled for glaring at it before he leaned against the wall. If Dumbledore needed to see him that badly, he could come down and fetch him. He closed his eyes and crossed his legs at the ankle.
“The password is 'Razzles.'”
The sound of stone grating against stone met his ears as the gargoyle moved out of the way to reveal the winding stairs to Dumbledore’s office.
Harry opened his eyes slowly, taking his sweet time about it. “Oh?” he queried, finally meeting the headmaster’s level gaze. Dumbledore smiled jovially and gestured towards the opening. Harry took the silent cue and headed up the stairs. The fact that Dumbledore had been nearby to witness his half-hearted attempt at guessing the password irked him, but he let it go.
"Harry, how are you my dear boy?" Dumbledore finally asked as he sat down behind his desk.
"Fine, sir," Harry responded before taking the empty seat across from the old man. He noticed that the obnoxious sparkle in the man’s blue eyes was even more pronounced then normal. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that whatever the discussion was about, it wouldn't be bad; but, on the other hand, it scared the piss out of him, because it could only mean Dumbledore was going to ask him a favor.
"Lemon drop?"
Harry shook his head ‘no’. It seemed idiotic to him that Dumbledore even offered them to him any more; he hadn’t taken one since his second year. He hadn’t even particularly like them then because they were too tart. The headmaster shrugged and popped one of the yellow candies into his mouth with a content smile.
There was only so much patience one could have in these situations, and Harry was rapidly reaching his limit. He drummed his fingers along the arm of the chair with an idle expression as he waited for Dumbledore to speak again. When he realized that the hoary old man wouldn’t speak without his speaking first, Harry gave up.
“What happened this time, sir?” he asked warily. He had no delusions that this meeting would either end in a volley of questions from both sides, or with a daunting task. He prayed for a daunting task, because daunting was better than getting a headache.
“Happened?” Dumbledore questioned with an innocently perplexed expression that Harry didn’t buy for a second. He’d bet all his gold in Gringotts that the man was hiding something from him.
“Don’t play dumb with me, sir,” Harry said calmly. “Something happened. Why else would you call me here in the middle of class?”
Dumbledore grinned and flashed Harry teeth that he hadn’t known existed until that moment. Harry wasn’t sure if he should be horrified or amused that he found Harry’s sudden bout of wisdom so pleasing.
“Ah well. I suppose you would like me to get straight to the point, wouldn’t you?”
Harry snorted. He refrained from saying “for once,” knowing that that would only delay things further. He nodded curtly and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap. It bothered him how Snape-like that movement was, but he gave no outward sign of the thought.
“There is a small favor I need you to do for me.” Harry raised a brow expectantly. If Dumbledore thought he would agree without a little more information, he was sorely mistaken. He had learned well enough that the crazy old man’s “small favors” usually turned into monumental, perhaps even life-threatening tasks.
For once, Dumbledore plunged right ahead without waiting for much of an answer. “If you would follow me, I shall answer any questions you have.”
Harry nodded dumbly and stood from his seat. What else could he do? It was unlikely that he would ever get a straight answer from the headmaster by just staring him down; he had nothing to lose by following the implied command.
“Sir?” he asked as the neared the bottom of the winding steps. “Where are you taking me?”
“No need to worry, Harry. We are not leaving the castle.”
“And that’s not cause for alarm?”
Dumbledore shot him a deeply amused look. Harry rolled his eyes and fell silent. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get the answers he expected.
Drawing closer to the hospital wing, Harry glanced at Dumbledore with a combination of curiosity and concern. Why were they there? The content smile had not left the elderly man’s face once on their almost silent journey through the castle, but that didn’t mean anything. There was no question in anyone’s mind that Dumbledore was a little on the odd side, eccentric maybe, so that alone could explain why nearing the school’s infirmary would be a cause to smile.
"Sir, what's going on?" Harry asked nervously.
Dumbledore slowed to a stop outside the large doors, his light blue robes swishing around his feet. “What do you mean, Harry?” The question was asked in such a serene tone that Harry didn’t even bother to answer with more than a shrug. He just didn’t like the hospital wing, and no one could blame him. He rubbed his arm awkwardly as he waited for the wizened old man to make his next move.
Harry folded his arms across his chest. Dumbledore stroked his long white beard in a motion that did nothing to soothe Harry’s frayed nerves. He wanted answers, and now he was left with more questions. It wasn’t fair. Dumbledore hadn’t even said anything yet! Usually, that effect didn’t happen until after a meeting with the headmaster was adjourned.
“May I repeat myself, professor?” Harry asked with the same manner of one inquiring over someone’s day. He wouldn’t say that he was angry, but he was very, very annoyed. Not even waiting for a nod or a verbal reply, Harry continued, “What is going on?”
“You’ll see.”
“Do you enjoy making people nervous?” Harry groused.
Dumbledore smiled. “I do seem to have that uncanny ability, don’t I?”
Harry nodded, and before he was allowed to say anything more, the wily old coot had entered the hospital wing and left him standing out in the empty corridor alone. He rolled his eyes, content with leaning against the cool stone for the time being. Dumbledore better have a grand and flowery explanation as to why he left Harry outside when he came back out.
He rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated fashion as he strained to hear what was going on, but knew it was fruitless. The doors had one of the most powerful silencing charms in the entire school. He supposed that they weren’t always there, but between the current war and the last one, they were needed to keep the pained screams from reaching the rest of the school. It wouldn’t do to have every day functions interrupted by patient’s cries.
He paced in front of the large oak doors, twisting the hem of his robes with each turn. He paused and turned to face the doors when they began to open. His first thought was that someone had slipped a potion in his pumpkin juice that morning, and that was why he was seeing Dumbledore, the greatest wizard the world had ever known, carrying a toddler on his hip. Harry’s second idea was that his first idea was stupid, which led to the question of why Dumbledore was holding a squirming little boy in the first place.
Harry didn’t get much time to think this through either.
"Har-wy!" The black haired toddler squealed with delight as he wiggled around in Dumbledore’s arms and made impatient noises.
All right, so maybe the potion in the pumpkin juice that morning wasn’t such a shoddy idea after all, because there was no other reasonable explanation for this predicament. He certainly didn’t recognize the tiny lad, and he was almost positive that if one of the Weasley’s had reproduced in the past two years, he would have a) been informed and b) thought that their child would not have black hair.
Harry watched suspiciously as the headmaster lowered the impatient child to the cold floor.
“Har-wy!” he cried happiness written all over the boy’s expression. He toddled over to Harry and wrapped his little arms around Harry’s legs, burying his face in Harry’s thigh. “You come!”
Harry didn’t know what to do beyond pat the little boy awkwardly on the head. “Course I did.” He shot the headmaster an irritated look that clearly said he was expecting answers, now.
“Severus has been very persistent in voicing just who he wanted to see most,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling . Snape beamed up at Harry, revealing a perfect row of white baby teeth and a very familiar crooked nose. Harry’s hand stilled on its journey through the soft black hair as he swiftly started to think up all plausible reasons for Snape, a miniature one at that, wanting to see him. Of course after two seconds, he knew he’d come up with nothing.
When it became apparent Snape would no sooner relinquish his hold on Harry’s legs than a grindylow, he resigned himself to lifting the toddler off the floor. He glared at Dumbledore, as if this were somehow his fault. Snape had no reasonable need to want him, as a man or as a child, unless the headmaster forced him into it. But, what could the headmaster have told a mere child that would make him cling to Harry like glue between fingers?
Severus was playing with the clasp on Harry’s cloak and appeared particularly delighted when it came undone. Harry sighed and felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips despite himself. Severus grinned wildly in response and with another resounding cry of “Har-wy!” placed a smacking kiss on Harry’s cheek.
Harry’s expression froze in shock and Severus must have noticed this as well, for he suddenly shied away from him. Harry softened his expression and Dumbledore diffused the situation with a well-timed lollipop. With Severus sucking merrily at the pop, Harry finally got the opportunity to pester Dumbledore for more answers.
“Sir, what happened to Professor Snape?” he asked, adjusting Snape on his hip. “Because the last time I checked Snape was in his mid-thirties with no love lost for me or sugary sweets,” he added as he felt small, sticky fingers start to play with the hair that curled behind Harry’s ear.
"That is a story best saved for my office, don’t you agree?”
Harry nodded curtly and followed alongside the old man as they headed back towards his office. There were some things that just shouldn’t be said in open corridors. He couldn’t be sure if Dumbledore was trying to hide the fact that the Potions Master was no longer himself or not.
Harry heard footsteps approaching behind him and he turned around just in time to see Ron and Hermione running down the hall. Snape was still happily sucking away at the lollipop, and eyeing the incoming seventh years warily.
“Harry!” Ron called with an enthusiastic wave. Harry wondered what had the lanky red head in such a good mood. Hermione looked about ready to hit Ron at the least provocation. “You’ll never guess what happened?”
“Snape is a toddler and classes have been canceled?” he asked with an indulgent smile.
Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But how? You never made it down to the dungeons, mate. How’d you even know?”
“Ron, are you really that thick?” Hermione groused, smacking the taller boy’s arm. “Look at the little boy in Harry’s arms. Who do you think that is?”
”That’s, but...no, that can’t be Snape!”
“Sev-us,” the two-year-old corrected around the lolly in his mouth. There was silence when the three friends stared at one another in shock and annoyance.
Snape clutched at Harry’s robes tight enough to strangle him. After his last outburst, he found it strangely amusing that the child would be so shy. He grabbed the tiny, sticky fingers and pried them from his collar, letting oxygen flow freely again. Harry kept his fingers curled around the smaller ones and brought the hand to his chest, adjusting Snape on his hip once again.
“Severus, would you like to meet my friends?”
“Fwind?”
Harry nodded with a bright, encouraging smile. Really, it was so incredibly hard to hate Snape when he was looking up at you from a child’s face with a lollipop in his mouth. “That’s right, my friends.”
He locked eyes with Hermione and her surly expression softened into a gentle smile for the black-haired toddler. Snape relaxed and looked up at him in curiosity. He smiled the same encouraging smile he had earlier and Snape turned his attention back onto Hermione, even as he pressed himself closer to Harry.
"Hello, Severus. I’m Hermione,” she said with a patient and warm smile. Snape seemed to be trying to formulate a response to this. Harry felt relief run through him. At least he knew that one of his friends knew a thing or two about kids, because he knew nothing at all.
"Har-wy," Snape said quietly, tugging on Harry's school robe to get his attention. Harry smiled down into the frowning face of the now young Severus Snape. "Har-wy!" he hissed, tugging harder. Harry placed the wiggling boy on the ground, and squatted as well, so they were at eye level.
“What?" Harry asked in a hushed tone, playing along with Snape’s sudden secrecy. Hermione was struggling to hold back her laughter when Harry glanced up at her. He rolled his eyes and gazed back at Snape with an extremely serious face. The little boy seemed fit to burst from giggles and Harry wanted to hug him tight.
“She nice?”
Harry nodded. “Very nice.”
Snape seemed to be thinking hard on this when he turned to face Hermione. “You nice?”
“I’d like to think so,” she answered still smiling. Harry stood up and watched as Snape cautiously latched onto her hand. Hermione squeezed the smaller hand and glanced over at Harry who took Snape’s other free hand in his. Snape looked up at him in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Harry to do so on his own. So many questions banged around the inside of his head as he looked up at Dumbledore who had been waiting quietly. He wasn’t unsurprised to see the man glowing with pride, as it didn’t take much these days to get into Dumbledore’s good graces.
Suddenly, Harry wasn’t entirely sure he was cut out for this.
“Swing me!” Snape cried, pulling their arms backwards before running forward again without waiting for their consent. Harry and Hermione couldn’t do anything but comply with the request, and they lifted the two-year-old in the air so that he swung forward and back before his feet hit the ground again.
Ron caught Harry’s eyes and nodded once, before gaining the headmaster’s attention and pulling him away. Harry continued to swing Snape with Hermione as he watched the proceedings. The little boy was oblivious to the events going on in his surroundings as Harry shared a concerned look with the frizzy brunette.
“Har-wy?”
Harry dropped his gaze down into Snape’s upturned face. He brushed a stray lock of black hair off the boy’s face, earning a beaming smile. Harry scrunched his nose and Snape giggled.
At that moment, he would have killed the first person who so much as breathed wrong in this child’s direction. He didn’t want the responsibility of caring for this miniature person, but he didn’t want anyone else to care for him either. No one had ever seen Snape so much as smile before, and to see him do it now, even if he was only a child, felt like a privilege. Hermione’s stunned and amazed look told him she felt the same way. “What Severus?”
“I likes her.”
Hermione’s smile outshone the candles lining the walls. A rush of jealousy hit fast, but passed just as quick. There wasn’t a reason for him to be jealous. He didn’t even like Snape, older or younger. All right, he’d admit he liked younger Snape a lot more than his surly counterpart.
Liar!
Harry ignored his inner voice. Now was not the time to be thinking on that; now was a time to be worrying about Professor Snape's current situation and what he was going to do about it now. He had to think about the toddler that had so suddenly appeared in his life. That scared him; he wasn't even sure he liked children.
“If I may cut in, I believe you had some questions, Harry?”
“Yes, headmaster,” Harry replied with a decisive nod, leaving his inner troubles alone for a moment.
“Best continue on to my office then,” Dumbledore said, gesturing grandly down the hall towards the stone gargoyle.
Harry looked over at Ron who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Want up, Har-wy. Up!” Harry obeyed, picking the two-year-old up off the floor. He followed behind Dumbledore with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. Their heads were bent, and they whispered to one another furiously for a moment, before coming to an abrupt silence when they noticed Harry watching them.
Harry quirked a brow, but didn't ask. He really didn't want to know what they had been saying. The last time he had asked, they had turned beet red and muttered something about bras, and that was all it took for him to never ask them what they were about whispering again.
Dumbledore ushered the students into his office with a genial smile that made Harry wary once more. He stood off to the side, bouncing Snape on his hip idly as his friends took the two chairs. He didn't mind; the way Snape was squirming, it meant that he wouldn't accept being held for much longer. Harry settled himself on the floor between Ron and Hermione and released Snape, who--instead of taking off at a run like Harry had expected him to--remained seated on Harry's lap. His curious gaze took in the oval office with all its odd trinkets and Harry could almost feel the toddler's intrigue and intent.
"Professor, what exactly happened?" he asked, never removing his gaze from Snape, who had left his lap and was currently toddling around the room. He frowned when Snape tried to grab at a brass telescope and hastily got to his feet and picked the little boy up.
The venerated headmaster sighed and took off his half moon spectacles to rub at his eyes. "From what I gathered, there was a bit of a mishap with an aging potion in Severus's morning Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class. No one else was affected by the blast, but the Potion's classroom is in shambles. The classes for the rest of the day have been canceled until we can find a suitable replacement."
"Snape, er Professor Snape, sorry," Harry smiled ruefully at Dumbledore. Snape, in the mean time, seemed to have decided that falling asleep on Harry's leg was a brilliant idea. Not that Harry really had it in him to push him away. He brushed a wisp of black hair away from the boy's nose before he could sneeze and wake back up again. "He's not going to be happy, is he?"
"No, I think not, but he'll get over it with time."
"That's very optimistic, sir."
Ron snorted and Harry grinned up at his friend.
"You have something you'd like to add, Mr. Weasley?"
"N-actually, yes, sir. I do."
"Well then, a question's not worth having if it isn't asked."
"Why Harry, Professor, why not you? Why would Professor Snape want Harry?"
"Excellent question, my boy, one which I don't have the answer to, I'm afraid."
"Figures," Harry muttered into Snape's hair.
"Professor, I have a question as well," Hermione piped in. Harry trusted her to ask what he hadn't thought of yet, and he was certain there were many things he hadn't asked yet.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"The potion, how does it work exactly?"
"I'm glad you asked. You see, the de-aging potion is not on the curriculum and only a handful of highly trained wizards know how to produce one. As you can see, in the wrong hands, the potion could have devastating effects. Not only does the body age down, but so does the mind, rendering the victim helpless. Imagine what this potion could do in the hands of Voldemort." Ron flinched and Hermione's fingers tightened on the arms of her chair, but those were the only indications that the name had any ill effect on them. Harry, for his part, was lost in thought. Dumbledore had brought up a good point, while this may have been an accident, what if a Death Eater managed to figure out the same fault in the aging potion? All they'd have to do is throw it at an Auror or Order member and they would be a toddler, no longer able to defend him or herself.
"The light side would fall," Harry said quietly. "There would be no defense against it."
"Harry--"
"It's all right, Hermione. It's not exactly like there are Death Eaters in this room spying on us and getting ideas."
"Right you are, Harry." Damn twinkle, Harry thought, attempting not to feel affected by the pride in Dumbledore's tone. "Now, are there any more questions?"
"Yeah, I have one," Ron answered. "Will he grow?"
Hermione looked impressed, and Harry had to admit that he was as well. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind. It would be hard enough taking care of Snape at two, but what if the boy kept aging until he was older than Harry again. That would be horribly awkward, even more awkward than if Snape stayed two until an antidote was found and then suddenly shot back to being middle aged.
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Is there a problem?"
Harry nodded, lifting the sleeping Snape off his right leg. It had fallen asleep sometime ago without him noticing and he regretted not moving Snape sooner. "Yeah, I have one. I'm expected to take care of him right?"
"I was going to ask if you would. Why? Will this be a problem?"
"I-no, sir."
"Good, if you have any problems just ask me or Professor McGonagall and we'll take him from you."
If Harry's grip got a bit tighter around the two-year-old, no one commented on it. "Yes, sir."
"Splendid! Now," Dumbledore said in a business-like manner, fingers steepled as he stared down at the three seventh years before him. "I feel it's important that you know that Severus shall only reach the age of five."
“Five? Why only five-years-old? Wouldn’t it make more sense for the potion to make him relive all his childhood and adolescence?” Hermione asked, kicking Ron’s calf when he made a grunt of dislike.
“Would it?” Dumbledore eyed her curiously. Hermione shrugged and dug her heel into Ron’s toes when he sniggered. He yelped and glared at his girlfriend, who continued to meet the headmaster’s stare. Her cheeks were suffused with a light blush, but that was the only indication of her guilt. Dumbledore’s eyes were glittering like mad by this point. “I trust you’ll both help young Harry here with his new charge?”
“Oh they’ll help all right, sir,” Harry said, delighting in the ashen color of Ron’s face and the look of determination in Hermione’s. He knew it wouldn’t take much effort on her part to convince Ron. Really, there was only so long she could withhold sex before he caved.
“We will?” Ron squeaked, giving Hermione a pleading look.
Hermione nodded firmly, ignoring the kicked puppy look on Ron’s face. “Of course we’ll help, Harry. Right, Ron?”
She smiled at him, showing all her teeth. Harry winced in sympathy. Ron nodded frantically, his head bobbing up and down. “Yeah, course we will,” he agreed, throwing Harry a small scowl. Harry hoped Ron got over himself soon, or else he’d be seeing a lot less of his best friend in the next few weeks.
Snape’s light snore broke the anxious tension and Harry relaxed. Whatever would come, would come. There was no stopping the inevitable now.