Harry took a deep breath as the potion he ingested melted like ice in his veins, opening his airway, neutralizing the bee venom, and calming his heart rate down. He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his uniform shirt undone and his tie tossed somewhere by the foot of the bed. He had little sticky pads from the heart monitor on his chest, and his hair was damp from the cold sweats he'd been going through.
Snape leaned against the opposite wall of the bland little room, standing by the window and scowling uneasily. In his right hand he held another vial, this one much larger and black.
"No turning back." Snape's voice was eerily calm; as if facing Voldemort was something he did every day. Harry figured that as often as Snape went to meetings, it should have made him more nervous.
"No turning back." Harry agreed, keeping eye contact and reaching into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a letter and handed it to Snape. "Give that to me when it's over. Or read it to me if I can't read." Harry's voice was less steady.
Snape nodded and accepted the parchment, banishing it immediately to somewhere. He uncorked the vial and moved towards the bed, studying Harry carefully.
"Why are you looking at me like that? It's making me nervous. Are you nervous?" Harry blurted, hiding his wand in a fold of the bed sheets.
"I'm about to fry part of your brain." Snape responded dryly, folding his arms as Harry took the vial.
"This seemed like a much better idea at home." Harry muttered, grimacing at the smell. "Hey, before I take this, I want a free pass for anything that happens tonight. No grounding."
Snape raised an eyebrow pointedly. "Are you intending to do anything stupid?"
"I never really plan these things." Harry answered with a forced grin. "It's only twenty eight hours, right?"
"Yes. Give or take a few minutes."
"Wait." Harry looked up at Snape and blinked slowly. "If I come out of this damaged, will we still be a family?"
Snape saw the slight unsteadiness to Harry's hands and recognised that he had enough Slytherin to him to know when to be afraid.
"I've always thought you were a bit damaged. You'll still be my son." Snape answered, looking down his nose and glaring at the vial. Harry flashed a triumphant smile at him.
"Proost, Dad." Harry toasted in Dutch, his voice serious now as he put the vial to his mouth and tipped back.
The brew to clear Harry's airway and calm his heartbeat down were child's play compared to the potion that Harry had just taken, which had taken Snape a month to perfect. It was an improvement on the potion that Harry had taken over the summer, that had allowed him to retain his fully aged mind in the younger body, and had been laced with enough basilisk venom to hopefully break the horcrux. Timing by the watch on his wrist, Snape held his breath as Harry began to tremble slightly and retch. A bucket was quickly conjured and Snape watched as black bile was thrown up into it, Harry's arms convulsing as he struggled to empty his stomach of the substance that seemed to be putting up a fight, going by the dry heaves it was causing. After just two minutes, Harry let out a mournful groan and dropped the bucket, which Snape banished immediately to prevent spillage. Right before Snape's eyes, Harry began to shrink.
The last time Snape had been this nervous had been nearly seventeen years earlier, when he'd gone for his mastery and spent three days awake to brew a particularly touchy nerve re-growth potion. Snape's mind flashed back to the past summer, remembering the drunken idiot he'd found scrunched up in his and Lily's old tree trunk, reeking of beer and despair. How quickly the little twit had wormed himself into Snape's acceptance, from his vulnerable and half asleep mumbling in the morning, walking into Snape's kitchen with ridiculous hair and his wand sticking out from his pyjama pants, to his surprisingly coherent conversation over a cribbage game in the evenings. He thought of how Harry had been a rather regular teenager in Stockport, lazily sleeping in on some days, wandering around to the store in the afternoon, and pitching in with just enough chores to make Snape refrain from commenting.
A violent cough came from the tiny body on the bed, and Snape suddenly remembered the warmth of Harry as he'd fallen asleep against Snape's chest in Amsterdam, moments before Amy Benson gave up her information. As much as the boy had been a thorn in Snape's side since he'd first arrived at Hogwarts, Snape hoped that the same Harry would emerge at the end of this.
The clothing stayed the same size, but underneath the loose material now laid a shivering toddler. Harry Potter, reduced to a rather defenceless fourteen month old. Snape took a hesitant step towards the bed, keeping his eyes focused on the frightened boy that lay there. The trembling was likely left over from the basilisk venom coursing through with the de-aging potion, and not for the first time in his life, Snape's breath shallowed as if he was approaching a very unstable brew.
The scar was gone, and the forehead completely clear, but the eyes were darting around the room rapidly and rather clouded with confusion. Snape took a hold of one of the little hands, uneasy at how much space was left when fitted into his own. Had the potion worked properly, the horcrux would be gone and Harry's sixteen year old mind would be inside his fourteen month old body. There was the question of what brain damage would be caused by the horcrux removal, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it now. Harry's eyes finally found Snape's, and Snape squeezed his hand.
"Do you know who I am?"
It seemed to take Harry forever to process what Snape had asked him, but he did and slowly nodded, his messy black hair whisking over his eyes.
Snape exhaled some of the tension across his shoulders and brushed back Harry's hair, before realising he was doing it and standing straight. Were they lucky enough too that removing the horcrux hadn't affected Harry?
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
Harry's face scrunched up as he focused on the three fingers.
"Blue." He answered, his voice soft and hesitant.
Snape kept his expression blank as he nodded. "Close enough. Do you remember the plan?"
Another nod, and Snape set to work creating a glamour over Harry's body. It was bizarre discussing war plans with a one year old, but they didn't have much time, and it was an all or nothing shot. If something went wrong, Snape's loyalties would be exposed and they would be in a rather busy muggle place without backup.
"Da. Da." Harry said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. Snape froze, in the middle of transfiguring his suit back to robes. He felt a tiny push of legilimency at the forefront of his mind, not enough to even attempt to break barriers, but enough to give Snape steady reassurance. That was not a mere one year old lying in the hospital bed, disguised to look sixteen. That was his son, and he looked terrified. His body was scrawny and slightly grubby, the hair lank as if it didn't get washed daily. Snape could spot a rather dark scar under Harry's ear that ran towards his hair and put his murderous thoughts of the Dursleys aside for the moment to offer a word of reassurance. Harry was battling the overwhelming emotions and fears of a fourteen month old toddler, and Snape could only imagine how strong the sense of panic was. When he'd gotten the lightning bolt scar Harry hadn't known what was coming, what destruction Voldemort was capable of. From the trembling of the boy's fingers, Snape knew that Harry was well aware of the possibilities now.
.........
Snape had just sat back down in the chair beside Harry, who'd rolled over on his side and let his longer hair cover his eyes, when he felt a silencing charm settle in the air around him. Snape stiffened slightly, but didn't turn. He didn't need to, didn't need to see the ice-cold eyes to know exactly who had just walked into the small room.
"Well done, Severus."
The praise was accompanied by a slow clap and spoken from the door; from the eerily human sounding voice that Snape knew belonged to a monster. Snape bowed his head, his lanky hair covering his face, and still didn't turn.
"My lord, your timing is as impeccable as ever."
Voldemort stood to the back of the room still; by the door he'd entered in, and observed the machines to the side of the bed. He sneered disdainfully at the heart monitor that was attached to Harry, before gifting Snape with a ghastly smile.
"As according to plan. Though I must admit I had my doubts that your proposal would work. It is rather...simple."
"I find it unnecessary to resort to elaborate curses and spells when a simple child's hex will do." Snape answered immediately, allowing a small measure of arrogance to carry in his voice.
Voldemort stepped away from the door, his black robes swaying by his feet as he walked to the bed and leaned over Harry. Snape suddenly experienced a very strong protective urge that he was still not accustomed to, and clenched his fists to prevent himself from jumping to his feet.
"Yes, perhaps you should impact that lesson upon Lucius and his little brat. Wherever he ended up."
"St. Mungo's." Snape answered, his narrowed eyes focusing on the distinct lack of space between Harry and Voldemort. "McGonagall thought it best, thought you couldn't reach him there."
"No matter. He's useless at the moment." Voldemort placed his hand over Harry's head, inches from the glamoured mop of hair and Snape tensed further. "Little Harry Potter, lying here helpless in a muggle hospital."
If only he knew how little.
"The Malfoy family has always been more for the show than functionality." Snape commented idly, trying to distract Voldemort from cursing Potter.
"Not a wholly incorrect observation, Severus. Perhaps some of my followers, being of less pure blood and poorer statue, are more hungry for success." Voldemort commented, sounding disinterested but Snape distinctly heard the insult. "I can only imagine how ruthless and ambitious any son of yours would be."
"Had I any inclination to spawn," Snape said with distaste, "I assure you that any son of mine would know his worth, regardless of whatever social standing my family name has."
Voldemort stood straight again and walked over to the tiny window that was in the room. Snape had banked on him wanting Harry to be conscious before he did anything, as Voldemort had a flair for drama and likely wanted to taunt Harry a while before attempting to kill him.
"While I congratulate you on ridding yourself of Dumbledore," Snape continued, "it seems that the original plan was to portkey Potter away. Did you not trust my information to you, my lord?"
From the general direction of the bed Snape could suddenly detect a sharp odour, and knew that Harry wouldn't be able to keep still much longer. It was like having a prowling cat in an enclosed room while one was hidden in the shadows, and since they'd first hatched the plan a few weeks earlier, Harry had been uncomfortable with the idea of likely being too young to control his magic.
"I did, Severus. So far you have disappointed me the least." Voldemort waved his hand mildly. "But when you informed me in November that a simple bee sting was strong enough to bring down a bothersome pest that I have not been able to destroy, I was naturally sceptical."
Snape pretended to be miffed and withdrew a small vial from his cloak pocket, filled with a murky grey liquid. "Yes, well, now that you have seen the results, I suppose you wish the cure."
"And why do you think I would need that, Ssssseverusss?" Voldemort hissed, looking annoyed.
"Though I regret that I was not there on the night of your resurrection, I do understand that you were able to return by using the boy's blood?" Snape's voice was monotonous and non-accusatory.
"The blood of my enemy." Voldemort confirmed with a superior tone. "It allows me to touch Potter now, causing him more harm than myself."
"Perhaps it has unfortunately infected you with the allergy as well." Snape said, arranging his facial expression to look troubled.
Voldemort snatched the bottle from Snape's hand, holding it up to the light and inspecting it.
"This is a permanent cure?" Voldemort asked, his gaze boring into Snape's as if actually reading his mind, instead of checking for memories.
"Of course, my lord. Only the best quality." Snape replied confidently.
Voldemort didn't uncork the vial though, and Snape asked another question to hurry things along.
"Out of curiosity, where did the chalice send Dumbledore?"
"To an old haunt of mine I had intended to send Potter. It ravages the magic of anyone without a dark mark," Voldemort explained smugly. "I was content to let Potter rot there in the cave until he died, and report that the wizarding world's beloved hero had abandoned them."
"A fitting end." Snape commented idly, keeping his disgust to himself. "Unfortunate that Greyback was sacrificed."
"Yes, yes." Voldemort clipped, pacing in the room and glaring at the hospital bed. "Amazing how fickle life is though, isn't it? Now, the great boy who lived, the only person to ever survive the killing curse, brought down by a mere bumblebee."
"Not quite, my lord. He should wake soon, and I thought you would wish to finish the deed." Snape corrected softly, nodding towards the vial in Voldemort's hand.
"And I shall." Voldemort sneered, before tipping back the vial and swallowing the entirety of it. Snape sat back in his seat, careful to keep his face neutral.
"My apologies for the taste." Snape offered, lowering his eyes in a feigned sign of respect.
"You would do well to remember," but Voldemort stopped, his reprimand dying on his lips as his face took a strange look.
"My lord?" Snape asked blandly, watching as colour filled the normally sallow white cheeks on Voldemort's face. The snake eyes widened as his breath drew raspy, and he fumbled in his robes for something.
Harry, who'd been waiting for the right moment, lifted his head and pointed his now oversized wand at Voldemort. Snape figured that Harry must have cast the stupefy spell non-verbally, perhaps because as a baby his pronunciation was far from clear, but he didn't have time to question as he drew his own wand. He flinched as he felt a non-verbal cutting hex flash by his face, slicing his cheek.
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!" Snape commanded, his voice low and strong as if he were merely giving a lecture in class.
Voldemort crashed to the floor, his eyes darting madly around as he vainly fought the four spells. His wand went flying and banged against the visitor's chair, while thick red ropes slithered up his body like a snake, keeping him tightly bound as his face turned redder. Five tense minutes passed where the only noise that could be heard was a shaky gasp for breath from the floor, and a small whimper from Harry. His tiny body had been pushed to the edge from fear and the desperate sounds Voldemort was making as he took his last breaths. Harry was sitting up on the bed, and Snape moved over to the side, cupping Harry's head with his hand, cancelling the glamour, and holding Harry against his body. He shielded Harry from the ugly sight that was on the floor, and kept his wand trained on the Dark Lord for a few minutes longer. If they'd missed any horcruxes, now would be the time they'd find out.
Snape let another ten minutes pass as he held Harry to his side, finally casting a diagnostic spell over Voldemort's body, pleased and relieved to the point of giddiness that it came back with no vital signs whatsoever. Voldemort was dead.
Snape cast containment spells over the dead body, staying far enough away from it but ensuring it wouldn't spontaneously start moving again. He quickly conjured a bucket of warm soapy water and rummaged through a cabinet against the wall.
"There's only muggle nappies." He muttered, walking back over to Harry and pulling off the baggy clothes that covered his body. "I will summon the aurors soon."
Snape noted with interest that even as a one year old, Harry's embarrassment was rather evident on his face. Snape said nothing though as he disposed of the wet underpants, still feeling the electrifying mix of fear and anticipation in the air, and not quite understanding how Harry could be handling the toddler version of those feelings so silently. Harry was very quickly bathed and changed into a nappy, with a short apology. Due to the potion that had both destroyed the horcrux and attempted to preserve most of Harry's brain, he'd now be stuck as a toddler for 28 hours. No magic could be performed on him, in the event that it disrupted his brain from re-organizing itself as best possible without the bit of Riddle's soul that had been in there.
"Monster." Harry said, giving Snape a pleading look. Snape noted that it had to be extremely frustrating to have thoughts and questions to express, but be restricted to the limited vocabulary that he had at 14 months.
"Yes. He was a monster." Snape murmured, transfiguring a spare hospital blanket into navy blue footed pyjamas and holding them up to Harry to test for size.
"Fly?"
"Pardon?" Snape lifted Harry up and put the pyjamas on the bed under him, before putting Harry back down and working little arms and legs into the sleeves and feet.
"Red." Harry squirmed, pointing at Snape's cheek.
"Yes." Snape suddenly understood. He wasn't quite sure if the speech problem was from Harry's age, or from the removal of the horcrux, but it was something that could be worked on once Harry returned to his normal self.
"The monster is gone." Snape was surprised at how easy it was to fall into simpler speech patterns as if he really was talking to a toddler. He reached down to do up the snaps across Harry's belly, his fingertips softly grazing the skin and causing an unexpected giggle.
Interesting.
Harry was giving him his best baby glare, which Snape ignored completely and tickled his stomach again. The giggle was louder and longer this time, accompanied by kicking feet and swinging fists. Snape couldn't help but smile, enjoying the euphoria of finally knowing that the reign of Voldemort was over. There were other death eaters still around, and people who'd want to do Harry and himself harm (likely the same people, to think of it), but the iconic leader was gone for good.
Taking mercy, Snape finished buttoning up the pyjama suit and picked Harry up, cradling him against his chest. He felt a rather painful tug on a lock of his hair, and raised an eyebrow at the innocent look he received in return. Snape tucked Harry's wand into his pocket before using his own to summon his patronus.
Harry let out an excited shriek upon seeing the doe, before burying his head in embarrassment against Snape's shoulder.
Snape smirked again and spoke to his faithful patronus, the doe that had been his friend in the darkest nights of this war.
"Provide apparition co-ordinates and deliver to Rufus Scrimgeour, Kingsley Shaklebolt, Arthur Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall. Voldemort is dead."
While they waited for the recipients to arrive, Snape pulled Harry's outer robe towards them and transfigured it into a dark brown, green, and blue knit baby blanket. The two toys Harry had stuck in his pockets the day before fell out, and Snape handed them over, before wrapping Harry loosely in the blanket. Kermit squirmed in Harry's small hands as three pops sounded, the three men arriving in the room and a patronus reply from McGonagall stating that she couldn't leave the school but gave a heartfelt congratulations.
Srimgeour gasped upon arriving into the room, first taking note of the fact that there seemed to be a dead body on the floor, one of the most evil wizards in recent history, and secondly noticing that ex-death eater Severus Snape was sitting on the hospital bed, a little boy with small peaks of black hair escaping from the blanket he was held in, sitting in Snape's lap with his head tucked into the nook of Snape's throat.
Kingsley and Arthur held their surprise about the second fractionally better, and all three smiled widely.
"He's really gone." Shacklebolt said, toeing Voldemort's boot.
The lifeless eyes still stared up at the ceiling. Voldemort's body lay prone on the floor, swathed in black robes, the hems slightly muddy and the material around the cuffs frayed. Snape found that thought slightly disturbing, as he didn't enjoy likening Voldemort to anything human.
"Well done, Severus, well done." Arthur crowed, unknowingly echoing the earlier words of Voldemort.
"Who is that?" Scrimgeour said dumbly, pointing at Harry.
"My son." Snape replied, giving the Minister of Magic a look that clearly communicated that he thought the man daft.
Harry, who had been holding onto Kermit and Ambrose the wizard, tapped them against Snape's chest and dropped them onto Snape's thigh. He suddenly felt exhausted.
"Looks like the little tyke needs a nap." Arthur said, giving Snape a small nod. "Shall we go over what happened, and you can take your leave?"
"That would be ideal, thank you." Snape conceded, putting the toys in his robe pocket. "I have two versions of events, one that will be reported to the wizarding world, and the truth which will be kept to yourselves."
"Come now, Severus. Does the public not deserve to know the truth?" Scrimgeour balked, already thinking about press conferences and future re-election.
"Absolutely not." Snape glared. "And as Potter and I are the ones to have finally killed the Dark Lord, I do believe you have no choice in the matter."
"I thought you said he was your son!" Scrimgeour sputtered, staring at the back of Harry's head.
"I did. Your family affairs office is rather busy, I am not surprised that you did not receive any notice regarding the adoption last August." Snape commented idly, knowing full well that the adoption had been kept at the highest level of secrecy possible, and that Scrimgeour had no chance of finding out.
"Regardless. We shall be leaving soon, so I recommend you fetch or transfigure notepads shortly."
All three conjured a pad of paper and Snape waited for them to charm their quills to take notes.
"From the beginning, if you please." Shaklebolt said, perched on a transfigured chair.
"Potter became injured in my class this morning. He suffered a severe allergic reaction; I injected him with his medicine and brought him to the hospital. We obtained a private room, and Potter took a potion to rid himself of the lightning bolt scar, his connection to Voldemort. Voldemort arrived under my summons, thinking that I had finally brought Harry Potter to him. Voldemort was caught unawares, stupefied, and suffocated."
Silence dropped over the room as the three men stared at him.
"That's...it?" Scrimgeour asked.
"That's what you may report." Snape confirmed.
"A year and a half of fear and terror, a madman threatening to purge all non-purebloods from society and unbeatable even by Dumbledore, and you suffocated him?"
"Ah, so you admit that you knew Voldemort was back, even though Fudge didn't?" Arthur asked, his muggle pen working furiously away at the pad of paper. Scrimgeour looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel that was twitching under his left eye.
"I didn't suffocate him." Snape replied in an infuriatingly calm tone. "It was technically a hive effort. The Ministry will, by the way, be receiving a 52 galleon bill for 60 millilitres of undiluted bee venom. I expect to be remunerated post haste."
Shaklebolt, both amused and taking pity on Scrimgeour, summoned a house elf from the ministry and asked for a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured a shot and passed it over, confiscating the man's notepad.
"Harry's allergic to bees?" Arthur asked, accepting a drink of his own.
In Snape's lap and leaning against the man's chest, Harry gave up all pretence of acting his regular age and stuck his two first fingers of his hand in his mouth, closing his eyes. When they'd discussed the plans Snape had warned him that whatever he'd felt as a six year old would be magnified as a toddler, and Harry had read over some of the information from a muggle parenting book on Snape's bookshelf. Most of the information there was self-explanatory, but Harry had been concerned about the separation anxiety he was to experience. Right now, with Snape's arm and the blanket wrapped around him and a steady heartbeat against his ear, Harry could understand why a one year old wouldn't want his parent to leave.
"Yes. And by extension, so was the Dark Lord." Snape confirmed, turning down the whiskey offer. His nerves were jumpy enough as it was, and he'd rather work it out with some tea and a book back at the castle instead of getting sloppy drunk.
"How could you be certain of that?" Scrimgeour asked, narrowing his eyes.
"His blood." Arthur explained. "Voldemort resurrected himself with Harry's blood."
Scrimgeour paled.
"Yes. Thus, when the Dark Lord arrived here, intent upon finally doing in his nemesis, I gave him the bee venom and told him it was actually the cure for the allergy."
"Stop calling him that." Scrimgeour snapped, causing Harry to jump a little.
"Habit." Snape replied unapologetically. He idly started stroking Harry's hair above his ear, keeping Harry held tight.
"How long did the venom take to kill him?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Five minutes, maximum. I may have given him a bit more venom than necessary." There was a bit of amusement in Snape's eyes at this tidbit.
"And what was the potion you gave Potter?" Scrimgeour asked, getting a calculating look in his face. The headlines for the Evening Prophet would be sensational.
"None of this is on the record." Snape growled, shifting Harry to his other arm.
"No, no." Scrimgeour agreed readily. The shock of a dead Voldemort lying on the floor a foot away had finally passed. His term as a successful Minister suddenly seemed much more possible.
"The potion destroyed the last of Voldemort's five horcruxes. The lightning bolt scar." Snape said, his face twisted into a sneering grin as he watched the information be absorbed.
"Son of a bitch." Scrimgeour exhaled. Arthur and Kingsley were similarly taken back, things finally clicking into place. Order tasks to find old memories and acquaintances from Voldemort's past, endless quests for information from the Ministry archives regarding spells and dark art practices that had been black listed for decades. Dumbledore had never told them what they'd been doing, but the research had been very thorough.
"Is it permanent?" Arthur asked, nodding at Harry.
"No." Snape replied. "He merely will be this age for another twenty eight hours, enough time to allow his brain adjust to not having the horcrux embedded within."
"How old is he right now?" Shaklebolt asked, pouring himself another shot. Somewhere in the world it was past 5 pm.
"Fourteen months, which will not be reported to anyone."
"A month younger than when his parents were killed." Arthur commented.
Silence filled the room again. Snape glanced down to note that Harry had fallen asleep, while Scrimgeour and Shaklebolt stared once again at the body of Voldemort. Here they sat, in the middle of London's busiest hospital in the middle of a cold January day, the smell of firewhiskey starting to permeate the room while the largest threat to the wizarding world in years lay dead on the floor.
"Did you know," Snape commented lightly, smoothing down a particularly stubborn bit of Harry's hair. "That Dumbledore is an old English word for bumblebee?"
........
Harry and Snape returned back to Hogwarts just past noon, when the students should have been in the Great Hall for lunch. The walk was slow as they made their way up the winding path, Harry half asleep with his head on Snape's shoulder, the blanket still wrapped around him against the chilly air. Snape's boots crunched on the hard snow covering the path up to the castle, and Harry's nose twitched as he took in the scent of Snape's aftershave and the starch of his collar.
They finally reached the front door and it swung open to reveal deputy Headmistress McGonagall, standing tall in her familiar green robes, hair tied up tight in a bun. She had a very warm smile on her face as she welcomed them in.
"Severus, congratulations. One hundred points to Slytherin." She was barely able to maintain the tease in her voice, and Harry figured that she too was feeling giddy after sixteen years of an uncertain war. He yawned as Snape murmured his thanks, and suddenly found himself being held a bit tighter. Snape continued talking to the Headmistress, promising a full explanation over afternoon tea, and grasping his crossed arms against Harry's thigh.
"I'm afraid we'll need to cut this conversation short for now, Minerva." Snape's tone was soft and Harry's chest rumbled with the voice. "My son has come to visit for a day."
He gave her a pointed look that she immediately understood, after having spent many years working with Snape and studying his various non-verbal expressions.
"Yes, of course." She replied fondly, reaching up and running her fingers through Harry's hair.
"I look forward to our discussion. Welcome home, Elliot."
"Blanket." Harry replied, dropping his head back onto Snape's shoulder.
"Quite right." McGonagall smiled, and waved them towards the dungeon stairs.
"Kingsley can brief you, should the press arrive." Snape advised her, nodding goodbye.
........
As it turned out, Harry only needed a short catnap. Whether it was natural toddler exuberance or euphoria left over from finally defeating Voldemort, he was rather hyper when McGonagall arrived for tea at three. She took in the sight with a stoic face, lasting all of thirty seconds before starting to giggle.
Snape sat regally in his wingback chair, a book lying open on the arm of the chair. The camera McGonagall had given him for Christmas was held casually in his hand as he watched with a rather calm look at the chaos happening over by the couch. Harry, dressed in jeans, a grey shirt with thin yellow, black, orange, and light blue stripes, thick black socks, and a green bib, was motoring along the edge of the couch and laughing at two little toys that seemed to be chasing him. The purple dragon ran along the couch cushions, roaring at Harry as Harry teased it with his fingers, while the wizard seemed to be challenging Harry with its plastic wand. A half eaten personal carton of yogurt sat abandoned next to a small spoon on the coffee table, and a small juicer cup had been dropped on the floor.
"Well Severus. All bark and no bite with your own child, is it?" She took a seat in the other wingback chair and smirked. Harry suddenly turned shy, picking up his toys and staring at her from the front of the couch.
"Merely testing his fine motor skills." Snape huffed, not sounding all that bothered by the comment.
"Kingsley mentioned he'd be this young for a day?"
"About that, yes. It was necessary to rid him of the horcrux." Snape answered, summoning a house elf for tea. McGonagall winced at the mention of horcruxes.
"Will there be any side effects?" McGonagall asked.
"So far I've only noted a mild form of paraphasia. However, more will be known when Elliot returns to his normal self."
McGonagall nodded and sipped at her tea. They continued their conversation while Harry played, a little quieter than before. After the retelling of their day and the remarkably simple end of Voldemort, Harry teetered over towards Snape's chair, dinosaur in hand. He held it up towards Snape and concentrated.
"Kermit." Harry said, smiling. McGonagall, who'd picked up the camera from the side table, snapped a quick picture of Harry holding up the dinosaur and Snape looking at it as if it were something Harry had created.
Before the scowling could start, she held up a newspaper from her bag.
"This evening's edition, it will go out in time for supper. I thought you might wish to peruse it before the masses. Shall we be seeing you for in the Great Hall?" McGonagall asked as she finished her tea.
Snape unfolded the paper and noted the rather large photo of himself, one of him laughing. It had been taken during Harry's second year at school, in the staff room after one of Gilderoy Lockhart's more outrageous speeches. It was more of a snort of disbelief than a laugh, but the camera had been obliging and Snape was rather certain McGonagall herself had provided the picture. It was next to a photo of Harry, taken one weekend in Hogsmeade as he smiled naturally while sitting at a table in The Three Broomsticks.
"VOLDEMORT VANQUISHED! HARRY POTTER AND SEVERUS SNAPE FREE THE WIZARDING WORLD.
A night for celebrations is called as the Ministry of Magic confirms that earlier today Mr. Harry Potter and Professor Severus Snape defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. In the wake of the devastating death of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Potter and Snape managed to corner Voldemort at a Muggle London hospital and deliver the final blow. Neither man could be reached for comment, but the Ministry has released some details of the event and have confirmed that Voldemort is truly dead. Interviews shall be forthcoming; both Snape and Potter are currently taking time to recover at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and have asked not to be disturbed. For a timeline of events in the Second Wizarding War, please see page two, for a list of Death Eaters still on the loose, please see page three, and a tentative listing of celebration sites and concerts can be found on pages four and five."
"Perhaps." Snape answered, spreading the paper out on the coffee table, so Harry could see it too. It seemed as if Scrimgeour had kept his promise about keeping most of the information out of the news, a pleasant surprise as the last thing that Snape wanted was for a desperate death eater to find out that for the next twenty four hours, Harry was not in any real state to defend himself.