By the time Harry had finished his meal, Minerva McGonagall had Severus dressed for bed.

“Why don’t you say night night to Albus and Harry, pet?” she suggested to the boy.

In answer, Severus ran back into the living room, where Dumbledore was now in his favourite rocking chair, Harry securely in his arms. The dark-eyed child ran up to them and Albus pulled him into his lap.

“Goodnight, my little one. Sweet dreams,” he said warmly as Severus wrapped his arms around his neck. Harry whimpered at this but, before he had time to get really upset, McGonagall was beside them, holding out her arms to Severus.

“Are you ready now?” she asked the toddler.

“Abus not tuck me in too?” Severus looked a little anxious.

“I’ll be in to see you very soon,” Albus promised, tousling the child’s dark hair, “I just have to get Harry bathed and ready for bed first, all right?”

“An you give me a tiss?” Severus asked hopefully.

“And I’ll give you a kiss, my child,” Albus reassured him, stroking his cheek.

Severus appeared satisfied with that and Minerva took him into the bedroom.

“Now then, my little bird, Time for your bath,” said Dumbledore kindly as he stood up.

He carried Harry into the bathroom and started to undress him. The house-elves had already run a fresh bath for the little boy.

Harry relaxed in the bath but was not interested in playing. Albus knew that he was tired, so he just spoke to him gently as he cleaned him.

Everything was calm until Albus heard a whimper from the bedroom. Minerva came into the bathroom looking flustered. The Headmaster was drying Harry with a soft white towel.

“Severus won’t settle for me Albus. He wants to see you first.”

Albus smiled gently, “I’ll go and see to him. Harry, will you let Minerva dress you for bed. I’ll only be a minute.”

Harry didn’t seem to understand and so did not react. Mistaking this for acceptance, Albus placed him in McGonagall’a arms and went quickly into the bedroom.

Severus was standing up in his cot, a few tears on his little face.

“Oh dear me, what’s the matter, love?” Albus cooed as he gathered the child into his arms.

“You didn’t come an’ tee me,” Severus answered, a quaver in his voice.

Dumbledore decided that there was no point in explaining the concept of waiting to a toddler and, instead, hugged the child close.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m here now. Let’s pop you under those lovely warm blankets, hmmm?” He proceeded to tuck the child in. Severus sighed in contentment as Albus leaned down and kissed his forehead, wishing him sweet dreams.

Returning to the bathroom, the old wizard found Harry dressed with his hair dry, though no less unruly. They had long ago given up on rectifying that problem.

“Thank you, Minerva,” he smiled, “I’m sure you are ready for some rest. Why don’t you retire?”

“I hope you plan on taking your own advice,” the witch scolded him, “No sitting up all night reading that bilge Fudge gave you!”

“I’m sure the Minister of Magic would be delighted to hear his plans for war described in such a way,” he answered her with mock-horror.

“That man could do with hearing the truth more often,” huffed Minerva.

“Thinking of leaving us for a career at the Ministry?” joked Dumbledore, “I’d miss you.”

“Very funny Albus! I’d rather deal with a crowd of giddy first years than those dunderheads.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with young Severus,” the Headmaster chuckled, “Even at his tender age, he still doesn’t suffer fools gladly. You should have heard what he said to Sybil Trelawney when she visited me yesterday to give me her work plan for next year.”

“More bilge,” muttered Minerva. "At least we have Firenze, too. What did Severus say?”

“He asked me why she had funny glasses on and said they made her eyes scary. To top it off he informed her that “‘Nerva says you talk captap.”

“Oh dear,” McGonagall’s face was a mixture of shock and amusement, “I really must be careful what I say in front of that child. I’m amazed he heard me. I’m sure Sybil was highly affronted.”

“Well, she tried to pass it off but I distinctly heard mattering about ‘ignorant people not appreciating the power of the inner eye’ ”.

The Deputy Headmistress snorted and then looked down at Harry.

“Are you all right, poppet?” she asked him gently.

Harry didn’t respond.

“Exhausted, I should think,” said Dumbledore and he took the child from Minerva, “Let’s get to our beds, Harry. I think we both need sleep.”

Had Albus not been so weary, he might have noticed that Harry didn’t relax in his arms.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Headmaster’s bedroom was dark and silent when one of its occupants awoke from an unsettling dream. Harry Potter sat up in his cot and tried to work out where he was. In his half sleep, Harry wasn’t sure whether the dream of being back at the Dursleys was real. He opened his mouth and cried with despair.

There was no immediate response to the noise. Severus’s soft snores were all that he heard. Harry took this to mean that he was, indeed, back with the Dursleys, who wouldn’t come for him with comforting words and touches and take away his wet nappy. The little boy put his hands on his head and rocked back and forth.

Albus Dumbledore was not sure what had torn him so sharply from his sleep. He sat up and took a few minutes to clear his head. The first thing he noted was that the nightlights for the children had gone out. Sitting up slowly, he lit them again. A movement near the door caught his eye and he turned to see the distraught Harry’s rocking.

The old man felt a chill run down his spine. He had been to St Mungo’s and seen the patients who had suffered the effects of the Cruciatus curse. To see a two-year-old child mimicking their behaviour was disturbing, to say the very least.

He pushed back the bedcovers and fumbled for his dressing gown before walking carefully towards Harry’s cot. All the while, those clear blue eyes watched the child and found no indication that Harry had even noticed him, so deep was the child in his unhappy trance.

“Harry?” he enquired gently.

There was no reaction.

“What is the matter, Harry? Did you have a bad dream? Come on, my child. Look at me.”

The soft words affected no change in the child’s behaviour. Dumbledore finally reached into the cot and with the utmost care, lifted Harry out. He felt the toddler flinch and began to soothe him.

“It’s all right, my little Harry. It’s just me, just Albus. There is no need to be afraid,” he rubbed small circles on the boy’s back and began to sway a little, “Come on, dearest. Look at me. Come back to me. You are safe.”

Long moments passed as Dumbledore continued to rock the child, murmuring comforting nonsense over and over again. Suddenly he found Harry’s green gaze fixed on him, filled with uncertainty and fear.

“Hello, treasure,” the Headmaster whispered, “Hello, my love. Are you back with me now?”

Harry nodded and buried his face in the warm chest.

“Good child,” Albus let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and sighed with relief, “You had me worried for a while. Let’s get you a dry nappy, hmm?”

He carried the child into the bathroom and lowered him onto the changing table. Harry cried and clutched tightly to him.

“Shhh, shhh, Harry,” he cooed as he loosened the child’s hold on him, “I only want to put you down to change you. Then I’ll hold you again, all right?”

Harry finally consented but he continued to stare at Dumbledore with fearful eyes as he was cleaned and dressed. The old man kept eye contact with the boy and spoke soothingly throughout the entire process.

“Lie still for me, Harry. Yes, that’s a good boy. Such a good little boy, aren’t you? Now, does that feel better?”

Harry listened to the soft litanies and began to relax. He was half asleep when he felt warm arms around him again. Still, the loving voice was talking and he melted into the embrace, feeling safer than he had in a long time.

He didn’t complain as he was carried to the Headmaster’s bed and he cuddled into the older man, seeking up as much comfort and reassurance as he could get. He felt a light kiss pressed to the top of his head and a hand running through his hair until, at last, sleep claimed him.

Lying awake in the dim light, Dumbledore realised that he was walking on thin ice with Harry. He had greatly underestimated the effects of the child’s recent memories about Sirius, his parents and the Dursleys. He had seen signs of trauma and was not going to ignore them. Tomorrow he would spend the day with Harry, as he had done with Severus before. He vaguely wondered if there was any expert on mind healing for children that he could trust to keep the de-ageing a secret. Madame Pomfrey had been extremely helpful, but she was the first to admit that dealing with traumatised babies was not her area of expertise. Albus made a mental note to ask Minerva for any thoughts on the matter. Her advice had been invaluable so far and she had the ability to be pragmatic where the children were concerned, something he had great difficulty with. She cared deeply for the boys, but she could see the bigger picture, and didn’t operate on the belief that she (or Albus) could solve all their problems alone.

“You and I are very alike, my little Harry,” he murmured to the sleeping child he held, “We both have what Miss Granger calls a “saving people thing.”

That in mind, he allowed sleep to take him once again.