The sun shone brightly on the lake and the smell of fresh cut grass filled the air as Dumbledore strolled down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry trotted along beside him, holding his hand.

“Well, Harry,” the old wizard announced, “This is where the big boys and girls play Quidditch. I thought you might like to have a little game here.”

Harry did not answer. He was staring around him in awe. Dumbledore smiled broadly.

“Hagrid brought me a snitch for you to try to catch. Let’s get you onto your broom, shall we?”

Harry nodded happily and soon he was sitting on his little broomstick, hovering just a few inches from the ground.

Dumbledore was about to show Harry how to move forward when the boy suddenly took off. Higher and higher he flew, his Quidditch instincts clearly in control.

Albus mounted his own broom and released the snitch (which was larger and slower than a normal one) and flew around the pitch, keeping a close eye on the toddler. He had placed a lot of protection around the area, to save the child if he fell, among other things.

The little winged ball flew past Harry and he grabbed at it, but missed and it moved off. Harry seemed to lose sight of it and flew off in the other direction.

Dumbledore was surprised at this. Harry rarely lost the snitch in a game after his first sighting. It had been very close. Why had Harry not seen it? He looked at Harry on the broom carefully. Something seemed to be missing.

Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, he remembered. The Headmaster nearly fell off his broom as he clapped himself on the forehead. Harry needed glasses! Why had he not remembered? Why had Professor McGonagall also forgotten? He made a mental note to have one of the Healers look at Harry’s eyes, since Madame Pomfrey was on holiday.

Oblivious to the old headmaster’s shock, Harry was having a wonderful time flying through the air. He felt something brush against his ear and put his hand up to grab it. It was the snitch! He giggled as it struggled for freedom in his hand.

“Abus! I got it! Wook!” he shouted.

Dumbledore beamed at the child and flew closer to him. He wanted to make sure Harry landed safely with only one hand on his broom. He guided him down and soon they were both standing on solid ground once more.

“Well done, my boy!” Albus praised as he hugged him, “You really are a Quidditch marvel.”

Harry smiled shyly as Albus took his hand once more to return to the castle.

Severus was still sleeping soundly when they returned to the Headmaster’s tower. Minerva was sitting at Dumbledore’s desk, working furiously. “I made a mistake with the second year Slytherin/Gryffindor timetable,” she lamented. “I double booked them. It took me an hour to fix it. Time I could ill afford to lose.”

Dumbledore patted her sympathetically on the arm and went to order up lunch. “Minerva,” he began as they ate their soup and bread, “We seem to have made a slight oversight with Harry. In a manner of speaking”

McGonagall stared at him in confusion. She sometimes forgot how eccentric Albus was. He had been acting almost normally for the best part of a month.

“Oh, I am sorry, my dear,” Albus chuckled, “I am starting in the middle. I got a little lost in my thoughts/”

“What were your thoughts, Albus?” McGonagall was keen to get to the point.

“When I was out with Harry on the Quidditch pitch just now, I noticed he could not see the snitch if it was more than a few centimetres away.”

“Oh, goodness!” exclaimed Minerva, “Why did we not remember his glasses? How foolish!”

“Yes,” smiled Dumbledore, “I have just sent an owl to James Barnes about it/”

Right on cue, a huge tawny owl flew through the window and dropped a note on the headmaster’s lap.

“He is going to send Jeffrey over later,” Albus informed Professor McGonagall, “He is coming over to see Severus anyway.”

“Good,” the Transfiguration Professor looked very relieved.

That afternoon, the young Healer, Jeffrey Barnes, greeted Dumbledore and McGonagall.

“Well, it has been a while since I have been here, Professors,” Jeffrey smiled, “More toys than I remember from before.”

“Yes, and they are just the Headmaster’s.” Minerva smirked in a very Slytherin manner as Dumbledore “Hmphed”

Jeffrey laughed as he followed them through Dumbledore’s bright office.

“Dad tells me I have two little patients to see today. Harry needs glasses, I believe.”

“Yes,” said Albus ruefully, “Of all the things to overlook.”

“If you’ll pardon the pun,” Minerva muttered, causing the old man to look at her in shock.

“You are spending too much time with Severus,” he grinned.

“Not to worry,” the young Healer reassured them both, “You have had more than enough to think about with those two. Besides, some children with minor sight difficulties aren’t diagnosed until they reach school age. That is where all the fine detail work begins. I imagine Harry, as a 3-year-old, has not been doing much to cause him problems with his vision.”

“True,” said Dumbledore, feeling a lot better about the situation, “Well, they are both in my living room with Dobby.” He led the Healer into his quarters.

Harry was sitting on the floor trying to catch the toy snitch, which was zooming around the room. Beside him, a drowsy looking Severus, who was leaning a little on Dobby, half-heartedly grabbed at the golden ball without much success. The throat infection was certainly taking its toll on the little wizard.

The green-eyed toddler looked up curiously when the three adults came in. “Hi, 'Nerva,” he smiled at Professor McGonagall, “Wook at the ‘nitch. I trying to catch it.”

“Oh, I heard all about your Quidditch game,” McGonagall smiled as she moved over to Harry, “Albus told me you were excellent.”

Severus eyed the three adults carefully, especially the new one, who was smiling at him. Who was he? Severus was in no mood to meet a strange adult. He started to whimper and Albus carefully made his way over to him. He sat down beside him and gently took his hand.

“It’s all right, Severus,” he cooed, “This is just Healer Jeffrey. He won’t hurt you.” Severus’s illness had caused him to regress a little and his fear of strange adults (especially men) standing over him, was back.

Severus moved into the Headmaster’s arms and began to cry. Jeffrey saw the problem quickly and immediately sat down on the floor. Fortunately, Minerva was already sitting down with Harry.

“Ssshhh, ssshhh,” Albus soothed as he gently rocked the child, “I am here. I have you. It is going to be all right.”

Severus continued to cry as he shook uncontrollably.

“There, there,” Albus crooned gently in his ear, “I know, child. You’re feeling very sick, aren’t you? Yes, yes, my poor baby. My poor little treasure. Shhh. I am here and I am not going to leave you. You are safe.”

After several long minutes, Severus’s sobs turned to small whimpers again and he gradually calmed down. He still held tightly to Dumbledore, who kissed the top of his head and continued to rock him gently back and forth, humming soothingly.

Jeffrey decided it would be best to start with Harry, who was much more tractable and seemed comfortable with him. He whispered this to Minerva, who nodded and let Harry climb onto her lap.

“Now, Harry,” she said calmly, “This is Healer Jeffrey. He is going to look at your eyes to see if you need glasses, all right?”

The Healer smiled at his very young patient. “Hello, Harry,” he said cheerfully, “I need you to do a very important job for me. Do you think you can?”

Harry smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

“Good lad,” said the Healer, “I need you to stand up. Yes, that’s right. Just there beside Minerva. I am going to move back here.” He stood up and moved back six metres or so. He took a bag out of his inside pocked and restored it to normal size. Opening it, he brought out an eye chart made of simple pictures, easily recognisable to a young child.

“I want you to tell me all the pictures you can see,” he instructed Harry.

The young boy obeyed and was able to name them correctly until they reached the last couple of lines.

Jeffrey moved a couple of metres closer and Harry was much more successful.

The young healer nodded. “Minerva, do you have Harry’s glasses?”

“Yes, I think they are here,” she answered and rummaged in one of the drawers. She handed them to Jeffrey, who shrunk them.

“Can Harry wear his old spectacles, then?” Dumbledore looked at the Healer who was placing the glasses on Harry’s small nose.

“I think not,” said Jeffrey, “I suspect that 3-year-old Harry sees better than teenage Harry”.

He showed Harry the pictures again but he couldn’t make them out.

“Don’t like these,” Harry said as he pulled the glasses off, “All wobbly.” He then looked a little worried. Should he have said that to healer Jeffrey? He might be cross.

“I didn’t think you would like them, Harry,” said Jeffrey kindly, “But I just wanted to check in case I was wrong”.

Harry relaxed and did not complain as the healer put his hands on either side of his face to scan his eyes.

“Very good, Harry,” he praised him. Turning to the other adults he said, “I’ll send a note to my father telling him what glasses we need.” That done. He turned to Dumbledore.

“How is he?” he asked softly, indicating to the dark eyed toddler lying in the old man’s arms, “He looks very flushed.”

“He has been very unwell,” Albus told him quietly, “He slept very fitfully last night and only a little better today. He is also much more sensitive to our tones and movements than he was over the past few weeks. He seems worse now, in that regard, than he was when we de-aged him.”

“Sick children do tend to regress a little,” the Healer agreed, “I would say that his traumatic childhood has a huge part to play in this as well. Even children who have not experienced such horror can be very sensitive when they are unwell. I think it would be best if it were just the three of us when I examine him. He won’t relax with so many people about.”

“Yes, of course.” Dumbledore stood, with Severus in his arms and led the healer to the boys’ small bedroom, adjoining his own. He sat down on Severus’s bed and Jeffrey slowly sat on Harry’s, facing them both.

“Severus,” Dumbledore murmured to the child, “This is Jeffrey. He has come to see you and make you feel better. Do you remember James who came yesterday?”

Severus nodded dully.

“Well, Jeffrey is James’s son and he is a healer too. Will you let him help you?”

“You ‘tay with me?” the weak voice asked.

“Of course, my darling child,” Dumbledore promised as he stroked the raven locks, noting the high temperature.

Jeffrey leaned very cautiously towards Severus and put a sift hand on the toddler’s forehead. “Dear me,” he said gently, “You feel very hot, Severus. Is your throat still sore?”

The little boy gave a slight nod.

“Why don’t you let me have a look at it?” Jeffrey said calmly, “Albus, could you sit him up a little more?”

Albus complied and the healer gently asked Severus to open his mouth. “I am going to make my wand light up so I can look at your throat, all right?” Jeffrey thought it best to explain his actions carefully to Severus.

Severus did not protest and Jeffrey took several minutes looking at his throat.

“Very good, Severus,” he smiled at the child, “It is still very septic, Albus. And his glands are very swollen. I think he needs a stronger potion.” Once again he rummaged around in his bag for various potions, which he mixed together and checked with his wand.

Dumbledore rang a small bell on the table and a house-elf appeared. He requested a small cup of juice for Severus.

Jeffrey had now poured the medicine into a child’s cup which he gently coaxed Severus into drinking. The juice appeared and Severus drank it too.

“Good boy, Severus,” the healer patted him gently on the arm, “Would you let me hold you for a minute? I want to make sure that the medicine is working.”

Albus gently shifted Severus into the healer’s arms. He looked worried when the boy’s lower lip trembled.

“Shh, it’s all right,” Jeffrey soothed the child, “Albus is still here. See? He is not going anywhere. Good boy.”

He began to scan Severus carefully and was pleased to note that the potion was taking effect. The temperature was dropping. He fed some energy into him, while rocking slightly to relax him. He noted that Dumbledore had reached for one of the boy’s little hands and was stroking it gently.

Severus did not know why but he quickly began to feel secure in Jeffrey’s arms. He felt as if he knew the energy that was moving through him, warming him like a blanket.

“That’s it,” Jeffrey murmured to his patient, “You rest, little one. Sleep and you will feel better very soon.”

Severus used his free hand to clutch the healer’s robes. It caused the tow men to smile indulgently.

“Perhaps he remembers you after all?” mused the headmaster.

“Yes, perhaps.” The young healer sent Severus into a deeper sleep and they both tucked him carefully into his small bed.

“Thank you, Jeffrey,” said Dumbledore quietly as he shut the door behind them.

“You are most welcome, Headmaster,” Jeffrey smiled brightly, “Truth be told, I wouldn’t want to miss a de-aged Severus. He really is adorable and so much easier to help as a young child. It will be a good foundation for further healing when he returns to his adult self.”

Dumbledore nodded and then chortled, “No need to worry though, Jeffrey. He is still in full possession of his stubborn streak.”

“I would expect nothing less,” the healer joined in with the mirth, “You and Minerva certainly have your hands full.”

Healer Barnes took a handful of floo powder, “Harry’s glasses should be owled to you within the next day or so. I will come back tomorrow to see Severus. He’s still too unwell for me to work with so I’ll keep an eye on his progress.”

“Yes,” agreed Dumbledore, “He is not eating very much these days. Should I be worried about that?”

“Not really,” said Jeffrey, “just make sure he gets plenty of fluids.” He waved goodbye to Harry and Minerva and threw the powder into the flame. He was soon gone.

“Never a dull moment,” said the headmaster and suddenly felt a tug on his beard. The little snitch had entangled itself in the long grey hairs. A moment later a small hand had pulled it out.

“I catch the ‘nitch again,” Harry smiled mischievously at Albus, who laughed heartily.

Later that afternoon, Harry’s glasses arrived and he walked around proudly showing them to everyone, even Fawkes and the house-elves. When he played a game of “catch the snitch” with the adults, he beat them hands-down.