The room was sweltering. The humidity caused many students to cast aside non-essential garments. Cloaks hung on the backs of chairs, ties of green and gold loosened, shirts partially unbuttoned and no longer tucked in, all as sweat dripped down noses and temples. It ran down their necks and their chests, beading their brows.

The sounds of dicing, slicing, mixing, churning, bubbling, hissing and sizzling, of spoons clattering and pages turning all combined to create a cacophony that felt like the very essence of the potions classroom, where the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin students stood.

Professor Slughorn wandered around the classroom, peering into pots of students as he passed, remarking to each of how they could aide their potion into being a little less runny, a little thicker, to make the color duller or brighter.

One argument broke out in the corner, concerning how many bat eyes needed to be added after a certain amount of rotations, and about how that particular Gryffindor was a 'moronic sack of shit who would never amount to anything if they couldn't even read a textbook'. The professor hurried over and sent the boys out, and returned a moment later murmuring about how 'this house unity project was doomed into the dirt from the start'.

Indeed, many people thought it was a silly idea, but Professor Dumbledore had been adamant about making sure the teachers understood the new rules. Now, whenever a group project was introduced, teachers would arrange students from different houses to work alongside each other. Which, two weeks into the new policy, had already erupted into several arguments.

After a moment of regaining his composure, momentarily disrupted by the 'foul mouthed' Slytherin, Professor Slughorn continued his walking around the room, eventually gliding over to his prized students desk. That desk also happened to belong to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Both boys seemed deep in concentration. Draco was bent over a cutting board, measuring the distance between his slices of newt, while Harry poured over a textbook, making suggestions and comments which were only greeted with disdainful remarks and a sneer.

However, their potion was in fair condition, and whether or not Harry's comments contributed to their success, well, no one besides Draco would ever really know. Slughorn even commented on the fact, giving them a small amount of praise as he passed, beaming at Harry all the while. Draco wasn't spared much of a glance. Harry didn't seem to have been paying attention to the comment, but glanced up briefly as a neon green light flashed throughout the room suddenly.

Over at Neville's desk, a large pot with a nauseating green glow illuminated his face, along with the face of a very irritated Pansy Parkinson. Professor Slughorn didn't seem to have any advice for the pair, completely astonished by their ruined potion.

Professor Slughorn was nearing their table, and Draco was panicking. The potion had become a woodsy dark green color that was absolutely unacceptable. It was supposed to be a soft turquoise, and just shy of being chunky. At the very least, the texture seemed...tolerable.

Draco breathed harshly through his nose, glaring at Potter, who, of course thought this couldn't be his fault. Professor Slughorn arrived to peer over their cauldron, which he now viewed with a sort of...disappointment. He shook his head lightly. Draco was fuming. This was all Potter's fault.

Professor Slughorn gave Draco a slight pat on the back. "Perhaps the next lesson will turn out a bit better, you can't expect it to always be perfect. Why don't you both go through the instructions again, see if you can figure out what you may have done wrong." The old coot gave the duo a smile, and shuffled off behind his desk.

Professor Slughorn now sat behind his desk, with his stupid cooling charm and anti-humidity charms that made Granger's hair look even more horrendous than usual. Draco turned his heated glare back to his table partner, who was still awkwardly shuffling through the textbook and examining their leftover ingredients, presumably to figure out 'what they had done wrong', as the professor had suggested.

"This is your fault," Draco muttered disdainfully, sneer firmly set as he mixed their potion seven times clockwise, and then three times counterclockwise, just as they were supposed to. Only, it didn't fix the color of this stupid, pointless, redundant, infuriating, useless, ludicrous, imbecilic, pointle-

"Would you like to explain why it is my fault instead of trying to kill me out of the corner of your eye?" Harry murmured, a sigh heavy on his lips and eyebrow quirked in question.

"You gave me too many Eyes of Bat. The instructions clearly read half a dozen, and you shoved an entire handful of the tiny things into my palm!"

"Perhaps you'll remember to count them yourself next time, as is recommended when working with another person," Harry quipped. Draco began to seethe as he realized Potter was hardly giving this any attention! As if this was some first year project and not a potion that would certainly end up as part of their exam! Potter didn't even have the decency to act like he cared! The insolent prick!

"When we began this potion I thought I could be reassured that even your idiotic self could count ingredients, excuse me if I believed I was working with someone who wasn't a complete imbecile!" Draco snarled at Harry, whose ears were beginning to redden in frustration.

"Why don't you go shove those bat eyes up-"

"You should be finishing up now. Please bottle up a sample of your potion and write your name on the bottle before turning it in! Neatly, mind you! And don't empty your cauldrons yet!" Professor Slughorn announced. Soon the sounds of quills scratching and clinking bottles filled the room. A murmur of voices penetrated the humidity, of people groaning and complaining and wondering just what they had done to make the universe hate them.

"Now, before we continue, who remembers the name and the properties of this particular potion?" Professor Slughorn squinted throughout the classroom, where several hands had been raised. "Yes, Ms. Dunbar?"

"The potion is called Fes-Festina Tempus, and it reverts the drinker to a younger age," Fay Dunbar said quickly, a tall girl with long brown hair.

"Nicely done. In fact, this particular batch that I've had you make is supposed to turn someone's age back a year, for about a half hour or so. Some of you will be testing out your potions today. Would anyone like to volunteer for extra cred- ah! Ms. Granger, why don't you come up?"

Murmurs of unfairness flitted throughout the room. "She's already got top marks! Why pick her?"

"My hand was raised way before hers!"

"Teachers pet."

Ignorant to it all - or maybe just acting like she was - Hermione walked lightly to the front of the classroom, another small bottle of her perfect looking potion in hand. She smiled at Professor Slughorn, though her happy face was mostly obstructed by the disaster her hair had become.

"Whenever you're ready, Ms. Granger."

Hermione brought the soft turquoise liquid to her lips, almost sloshing some onto her uniform as she shook her hair out of the way. She drained the liquid quickly, and set the potion down before a look of slight pain came over her face. Harry would never tell her it looked like she was constipated.

She huffed through her nose, sounding almost as if her breath had been forcefully knocked out of her. A small poof of turquoise air left her nostrils, before Hermione's hair grew out significantly, she shortened around an inch and her face rounded out just a bit. The class clapped and she curtsied.

"Well done Ms. Granger!" Professor Slughorn praised, and Hermione had a small hop to her step as she went back to her desk next to Blaise Zabini.

"Would anyone else like to volunteer before I hand pick?" Less hands were raised this time. "Hmmm...Ms. Greengrass, why don't you come up?"

As the slender blond took her own potion, the same procedure happened. Her hair shortened, her face rounded out, she wasn't as tall, her shoes were slightly clunky on her feet, and her arm was bent at an awkward angle.

Wait...what?

Daphne screamed and fell to her knees. Professor Slughorn rushed to put a spell on her arm to keep it from moving, and gave her a small potion that seemed to be for numbing. He called over her desk partner quickly, and Parvati assisted her out of the room and into the hospital wing.

Professor Slughorn chuckled a little sheepishly. "I may have forgot to mention that injuries sustained at that particular time do return. As this potion does not simply change your features, it changes your entire body chemistry from a year's time. This includes maturity through puberty, hair, height, scars, and so on." Slughorn smiled bashfully, as if forgetting that he didn't tell the class that an assignment had been pushed back. "Now that we have that out of the way...would anyone else like to volunteer?"

No one raised their hand. The classroom had gone from an eruption of chaos and shouting to utter silence. It seemed that everyone hoped that if they were quiet and didn't move, the professor wouldn't see them. Professor Slughorn sighed heavily, murmuring about the mood swings of teenagers. "Very well...here we go, Mr. Potter, come here."

Harry's head snapped up so quickly Draco thought he may have given himself whiplash. His eyes were full of dread as he realized he would be drinking his own botched potion. He stared at the professor for a moment, his eyes similar to that of a deer in headlights. He looked over at Draco, panic quite clear. Harry wasn't sure why he looked at Draco. He certainly wasn't going to be getting help from the wanker who was filling another small potion bottle. And...were the corner of his lips...twitching?

Hate was clear in his eyes as Draco corked the bottle and shoved it at Harry. Reflexively, Harry took it, lest it crash and break on the floor. Who knew what this monstrosity would do to the floor...who knew what it would do to him.

Draco leaned on his elbow and rested his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smile as Harry dragged his feet up to the teachers desk. He thought Harry may have been attempting to hide in his shirt. Draco made an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"There we go, m'boy! Go ahead, down it goes," Professor Slughorn said happily, encouraging Harry with a large smile. Harry didn't think it was very encouraging.

Harry couldn't have moved the bottle slower. As he finally tipped his head back, he prayed his heart wouldn't explode or something. Knowing his luck...

The bottle was drained, and Harry had a moment to shudder violently. He began to set the bottle down, before he fell down to his knees, gasping in pain. Harry clutched his stomach, and cried out.

"Harry!" Hermione cried out. Her high pitched voice rang throughout the classroom. Professor Slughorn stood on the side worriedly. Like the students, he didn't do much besides stand on the side and watch Harry tremble, though he did prepare another numbing potion along with some other potions his panicked mind thought might be needed.

At first, Draco had had to smother his laughter, but as Harry's trembling turned to convulsions he began to worry. He sat up in his chair, leaning over the cursed cauldron as he and the rest of the class wondered if they were about to see the end of the Boy-Who-Lived.

A small poof was heard, accompanied by a small cloud of green smoke that enveloped Harry. The cloud dispersed quickly. Standing in Harry's place...a boy.

He was young. Draco thought he looked about four. The Hogwarts uniform pooled around him. His shirt barely clinging on a shoulder, while the other sleeve exposed a thin, pale elbow. His shirt was hanging down to his ankles and the pants he had been wearing had dropped to the floor. His hair was long, wrapping around his ears and neck with a curliness that surprised the classroom. Large green eyes stood out behind glasses that were slipping off his nose, before a tiny hand angrily pushed them back up his face.

That...that's Harry Potter. A mini Potter. How disgusting. Draco sneered, looking down, though his expression faltered when Harry tripped trying to untangle himself out of his pooling clothes.

Harry lunged to crab a corner of the desk, catching himself as his foot got tangled in his pant leg. He looked up at the professor with a frown, face flaming as half the class cooed and the other half laughed. "Oh dear, those are a little big now, aren't they? Yes, yes..." Slughorn gave a forced chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood, before quickly dropping the amused expression and murmuring a few words to readjust Harry's clothes

A moment later, Harry now had clothes that at least stayed up on him. Draco thought the mini-Hogwarts uniform was a bit daft, but what could Draco do? He could laugh at the fool, just as he was.

As Harry's wand clattered to the floor, falling out of his shrunken pocket, a sudden cry was heard from Lavender Brown in the back of the classroom. "He's so adorable! Look how tiny he is!"

Harry glared at her, which wasn't nearly as intimidating as it would have been just a few minutes ago. Draco distractedly compared the look to a grumpy kneazle.

An uncomfortable cough came from Professor Slughorn. "Ah...Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up at the man, who thought that with eyes such as those, well, one could get anything they desired. "Are you quite alright? Can you speak?"

Harry coughed. "I can speak," His voice was quiet, high pitched and slightly shrill.

"How do you feel? Any pain? Discomfort?" Professor Slughorn rocked back and forth, running his eyes over Harry to check for any immediate signs of fatal danger.

"I'm fine, sir. May I go to the hospital wing?" Harry asked, already inching towards the door.

"Ah, yes! Of course! Mr. Malfoy, escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing now. Grab his things, won't you?" Professor Slughorn said, as though it had been his idea the whole time. He smiled happily, patting his rotund belly.

"Professor, that's really not necessar-"

"Why must I bring Potter to the bloody hospi-"

Harry spoke at the same time Draco began, a whining tone to their dramatically different pitches.

"Nonsense, nonsense! I will not hear it! Mr. Malfoy, take Mr. Potter to the hospital wing or I will be forced to take away house points. I will not allow a student to walk to the hospital wing by themselves, and as partners you are responsible for each other. Now grab Mr. Potters things and off you go!" He huffed, watching with a raised eyebrow as Draco collected Harry's bag and cloak and walked stiffly out the door. He made a small shooing motion at Harry then, who sighed slightly before walking out behind Draco.

Professor Slughorn gave a small frown as he noticed large, hand-print shaped bruises littering Harry's forearms where his sleeves had been rolled up.

The two walked out of the classroom. No one but Hermione noticed how Harry hurriedly rolled his sleeves down and pulled his collar up. He shot a look to his friends before he left, and gave Hermione a wide-eyed look when he saw her starring. He left quickly, following Draco's path.

"Come along, Potter," Draco said, his voice unusually soft as he led the way to the hospital wing. Harry quickly followed behind, wincing slightly as he tripped every few paces. He thought he heard Draco laughing at him from time to time, but every time he looked up at the man his face was a neutral as it always was.

Huffing, Harry pushed his glasses up his nose for what seemed to be the umpteenth time since they began their walk through the twisting stone hallways. That was something Professor Slughorn had forgotten to shrink, unfortunately. Harry considered taking them off, but considering how poorly he was adjusting to walking with tiny legs, he didn't want to make his probability of staying upright even lower. He just wished he didn't have to push them up every few seconds.

While Harry sulked and Draco ignored him, an uncomfortable silence shrouded them, only interrupted by Harry's quick paces trying to keep up with Draco's long strides. Harry struggled with his feet and Draco studiously not-looking. By the time Harry had gotten the rhythm of his own legs, he was grateful that classes were still in session. He couldn't imagine the amount of ridicule people would put him through seeing himself in his mini-Hogwarts uniform and his stupid-looking tiny body.

Abruptly, Draco turned, shoved his wand into Harry's face and murmured a quick spell that shrunk his glasses to be proportional to his face. Harry stared up at him, startled and confused. Draco didn't look back down at him, instead choosing to immediately continue walking, leaving Harry to jog slightly to catch back to up him.

"What'd you do that for?" Harry asked, suspicion ringing out in his high tone. Harry coughed, swallowing a few times. His own voice was throwing him off.

"Honestly," Draco murmured, "you look like a fawn, trying to stay upright and stumbling around, looking at the world through those stupid big eyes." Shaking his head, Draco murmured to himself. Harry thought Draco had consumed to many potion fumes.

Draco was thinking similarly to Harry. Something must've been wrong with him, if he was even contemplating the fact the Potter looked 'cute'. At any age, Potter was disgusting.

"Uhm...thanks for the glasses, then," Harry said, more confused than showing gratitude. Harry looked down at his feet, pulling at his sleeve and therefore did not see the glare Draco shot him from over his shoulder.

"You're welcome," Draco said curtly. And that was that.

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Harry never realized how far the hospital wing was from the potions classroom. Maybe it just felt farther, since he thought he was taking two and a half steps for every one of his normal ones. God, he hated this age.

"Do try and keep your head up. You'll get spinal and neck injuries later on in life," Draco spoke suddenly. Startled, Harry snapped his head up, before registering Draco's words. He fixed his askew glasses and brushed a piece of hair behind his ear, before his eyes returned to the ground again.

"Sorry," Harry murmured. Malfoy snapped his head back to look at the mini-Harry, surprised by his words. "I think I'm kinda acting like I had when I was...whatever age. Five or somethin'..." Harry trailed off as he shifted his shoulder, a small wince contorting his face. Harry desperately hoped that he wouldn't have to stay like this for very long. He could feel numerous bruises on his arms and legs, and what he distinctly remembered to be a burn from a fire poker that had turned into a scar. He couldn't remember exactly what made Vernon believe that was necessary, but he remembered it happened soon after Petunia made him start helping with the flower garden in the backyard.

He really hoped they would fade, but he didn't think they would...Harry hung his head again, feeling the ache and trying to ignore it. It was so much more pronounced now...Harry had built up what he thought was an impressive pain tolerance the last few years, and now he suspected that tolerance did not stick with him. He wasn't sure if it was a psychological thing or because of calluses or whatever, but now...he was feeling the pain so vividly, and it was disconcerting and uncomfortable for him.

"Chin up."

Harry scowled, but did so. He realized how close they were to the Hospital Wing, and quickened his pace. He pushed against the large, swinging double doors with effort. One began to creak open, before it flew open easily and Harry stumbled. He looked back, confused, and glared at a smirking Draco, who had one hand on the door.

Harry's glare soon withered. Something compelled him to drop his gaze, before he angrily put his chin back up and walked further into the room. He paid no attention to a confused Draco, trailing behind him as he silently berated himself for acting like he did when he had been this small. He was not an intimidated, meek child.

Draco called out into the empty room. "Madam Pomfrey?"