Chapter Text
James was nervous. Very nervous. He had been anxiously awaiting this day for eleven years. James looked over to his husband, and Remus Lupin looked up and smiled, knowing what James was thinking.
"James, it is going to be okay. We've already done this once before. We know what to expect; Harry's not too worried, and Draco's just happy to see Diagon Alley. We will be fine no matter what happens, my love."
James Potter looked into Remus's kind, brown eyes, and he calmed down. He brushed his black hair out of his own hazel eyes and smiled back at Remus. Draco shifted in his sleep, his dummy moving as he lazily sucked it. He was sleeping on his Papa, Remus's, shoulder. Draco was a little, around four years old in his headspace, and eleven otherwise. He was only three foot four, as, once classified, Littles shrink to the height of their headspace's age. His ever so slightly wavy blonde hair was almost in his blue-grey eyes, but he didn't seem to mind.
James looked at his other son, Harry, who was looking around the exam room nervously. Harry was cautiously eager for his classification. He remembered the joy and excitement surrounding his brother's the year previously. Still, he also remembered how much Draco had cried.
Looking around the room, James was reminded of the Doctor's office he had once seen in a muggle studies book. Pastel purple walls, linoleum floor that squeaked with every step, a soft bench for the patient. A row of cupboards over a sink and countertop. A changing table under the small window, the blinds pulled down. Old posters were listing the classifications and what they meant, along with ones giving instructions on how to care for a little.
After what felt like an hour, time only slowed by the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, a Ministry witch came bustling into the room.
"Let's see… Potter?" she said, inspecting her clipboard over her sharp nose.
"Yes," said Remus, bouncing Draco up and down a bit as he fussed at the sudden noise, continuing to suck on his dummy.
The Ministry witch smiled at Harry through her spectacles. Her greying hair up in a bun, her maroon uniform and her Ministry badge all showed an austere woman. Still, her demeanour was more nurse-like.
"And I take it young Mr Potter is here for his classification?" she asked, looking from Remus to Harry, who looked away, cheeks red.
"Yes, he is," said Remus with a reassuring look in Harry's direction.
Harry gave a slight wave to the witch. James could tell he was nervous now. He was avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with his jet-black hair. James moved into the seat next to Harry and held his hand, comforting him. Harry squeezed his father's hand.
"Okay, let's get started, shall we?" The witch, whose name badge read Martha Merryweather, pulled out her wand, a roll of parchment, and a few auto-ink quills. "The procedure here is quite simple. As you know, up until the age of ten or eleven, when they begin preparing for Hogwarts, kids are automatically classified as gens. They will grow as expected and mature too. I'll cast the incantation on to Harry here, and one of three things will happen. If Harry's classification is as a gen, a member of the general public, nothing will change. If he is a caregiver, not much will change either, but you will see Harry mature much faster than his gen counterparts and begin to feel the need to care for someone or something. If Harry is a little, he will shrink to the size of the age his headspace is and mentally, 'regress,' so to speak, to that same age."
Jame and Remus nodded their understanding, and Harry moved in closer to his father, getting more nervous by the second.
"We have resources to help you no matter what your classification is," Martha said to Harry. He gave a weak smile, which she enthusiastically returned.
"Okay, here we go. You'll feel a slight woosh like you're outside on a windy day."
"Wait!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly with tears in his eyes. "What's going to happen if I'm a little?"
James glanced at Remus and turned back to Harry. "If that's the case, then we will love you just as much as we do now, Harry. We will make you so happy, we'll get you everything you need. I promise, Harry, I promise that no matter what happens, everything will be okay and that Papa, me, and Draco will love you no matter what."
Harry nodded, his green eyes still watery, his hands shaking a little.
And with that, Martha cast the spell.
"Genus Revelio!"
The effect was instantaneous. Harry began to shrink and whine; his eyes were scared. Harry's clothes slowly began to seem bigger and bigger on him. His short, jet black hair grew longer and became slightly wavy. Harry's face rounded, looking younger by the second, and his hands grew pudgy. He started wailing as he finished shrinking. He appeared to be the size of a two-year-old, but he looked even smaller compared to the clothes that seemed to swallow him.
James immediately scooped him into his arms, rocking him back and forth to try to get him to calm down. He knew that it wasn't painful, but it was confusing to suddenly go from being a nine-year-old to a toddler. And Harry could no longer adequately express his emotions.
"Da- dah- dah dee," wailed the now-toddler-Harry, bawling into his Daddy's chest, tears flowing down his rosy cheeks.
"Shh, shh, it's okay, my baby. Daddy's here," said James, looking at Remus. Remus seemed calm, although Draco was not. He began crying too. Remus quickly left the room to calm Draco down.
"Okay," said Martha quietly, inspecting the parchment she had brought out before, as it was now covered in writing and charts. "So, as we can see, Harry appears to be a little. He- oh."
James didn't need Martha's "Oh" to tell him what had happened. Harry, now a toddler, was no longer potty trained. He must have wanted the loo beforehand because he was now very smelly, and his trousers were a bit brown around his bum.
"There are changing tables and everything you need over here. This is a widespread occurrence. There's no need to worry." said Martha, directing James to the other side of the room. James placed Harry down on the table and pulled his massive clothes off him. Harry was screaming at this point, overwhelmed and confused.
"Shh, shh, Daddy's here. Daddy loves you, baby," said James, trying to calm Harry down by rubbing his tummy and stroking his hair. Finally managing to successfully change Harry into a nappy, James picked Harry up and began to bob up and down lightly, trying to calm him. It seemed to work a little as his screams quietened and became cries.
"Here," offered Martha, "try this."
James gratefully took the simple white dummy Martha was offering and put it into Harry's mouth. It worked wonders. He stopped crying and began diligently sucking on the dodo, sniffling and hiccuping every so often. Harry remained glued to his Daddy's chest, gripping onto his shirt very tightly.
"There are a few tests we need to do, nothing invasive, don't worry," said Martha, seeing the worried look on James's face. "We just need to determine his headspace age, make sure he's healthy, that sort of thing."
"Okay, let's get this out of the way, then." Said James, continuing to gently bounce up and down.
Martha began doing all sorts of incantations to Harry, who just squeezed his Daddy tighter and hid his face in the crook of James's neck. A piece of parchment flew from Martha's wand after five or so minutes of this.
"Let's see," said Martha, consulting the page. "He appears to be almost three years old headspace-wise, though that's an approximation, and he's healthy." Turning to the other side of the parchment, Martha said, "He scored a 4 out of 8 on the toddler maturity test, so he will be very average in terms of emotions, but that's to be expected. Littles tend to be ahead at things like reading and writing and average emotionally. Any questions?"
"Uhm, no, I don't think so," said James, now rocking back and forth while rubbing a sniffling Harry's back.
"I know this is a lot, so just reach out if you need any help." said Martha, "Oh! I forgot, his blanket." Waving her wand, Martha conjured a little scarlet blanket. "Here you go. Looks like he's destined to be a Gryffindor with a blanket that colour!"
"Bye, Ms Merryweather, thank you,"
"'Twas my pleasure, Mr Potter, good luck!"
Walking into the hallway, James saw Remus and Draco reading a story together in the waiting room. Wrapping Harry up in the blanket, James walked towards them. Harry began to whine, overwhelmed by the sudden change in setting. Remus stood up, scooping Draco into his arms and then grabbing the baby bag. When Draco groaned at being taken away from the story, Remus shushed him gently.
"We've got a surprise for you when we get home, pickles."
"A sup- supwise! What is it, Papa?" exclaimed Draco, forgetting his annoyance instantly.
"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise now, would it?"
"Oh," said Draco, disappointed.
The Potters walked towards the family floo fireplace, a special one that didn't spin so that kids could take it more easily. Grabbing the powder, James said, "The Potter Residence," and, in a flash of emerald green flames, they were home.