Harry sat silently in Albus Dumbledore’s office. He had not been here since he had smashed many of Dumbledore’s possessions out of anger at the end of last term. Most of them appeared to be repaired or replaced, however. He could feel all the portraits looking at him, no longing feigning to be asleep around him.
“Harry, I’m concerned for you. As you know, there are still members of the Order watching you.” Dumbledore paused here to see if Harry had anything to say. “They have reported that you have not left the house since returning from school. Judging by what I witnessed this morning, you are also failing to take care of yourself or eat properly.”
“I’m fine,” Harry announced rudely and thoroughly aggravated. He knew he would feel much better if Dumbledore would let him leave Privet Drive.
“I disagree. Clearly, you are not fine.”
“You’re wasting your breath and time Dumbledore. We all know this boy will not listen to you,” the portrait of Phineus interrupted. Harry turned his head and glared at the portrait, but turned around when Dumbledore began to speak again.
“Thank you Phineus, that will do. I believe I know what is bothering you, and I would like to help … I beg your pardon?” He had seen Harry’s lips move, but he had whispered so softly, nobody had heard what he said.
“I told you to SHUT UP,” Harry shouted, rolling his eyes. Several of the portraits gasped. The others began to shout at Harry.
Dumbledore raised his hand and the room fell silently. “Please understand, I am only trying to help you …”
“Well you can’t! You don’t know what it’s like! You didn’t get him killed!”
“Neither did you, as I have already told you.”
Harry was not listening. He was done with the conversation. “I want to go back. Send me back.”
“Not before we talk.”
“Fine,” Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. He saw the marble on the floor and went for it. Nothing happened. He caste the marble aside and stomped to the door. He tugged at the handle, but the door remained closed. He pulled more forcefully, but his hand slipped off the well-polished handle and he fell backwards. Harry stood up; he was determined not to have this conversation again. “Let me out, now!”
“Not before we talk.”
“We already had this talk! I don’t care anymore!”
“No, we have not, not entirely. I made the mistake of thinking a fifteen-year-old could handle the emotions you left my office with at the end of term. Clearly, this is not the case. You need some one to talk to, some one to help you understand. You can talk and I will listen this time. Furthermore, you do care. That is why we are here.”
“I don’t have anything to say,” Harry lied turning away to face the door.
Dumbledore just sat behind his desk waiting. Harry could not believe he would just sit there and wait. Surely he had other business to attend to. A few moments passed before Harry tried to pull the door open again. Harry kicked the door before turning around.
“I don’t want to talk, nor do I need to! Now send me back!” Dumbledore continued to stare at him. Harry then did the only thing his rage told him to do. He grabbed a three-legged stool and swung it at a table of devices and instruments.
“Stop that Harry! Come here and sit down.” Harry delighted in the annoyance he heard in Dumbledore’s voice, much unlike the last time he smashed the office. Perhaps if he smashed a few more things, the headmaster would give up and let him go.
He grabbed a piece of metal by his foot and heaved it at the front of a glass cabinet. With a thunderous clash, the cabinet shattered. All of its shelves and their contents fell to the floor, shattering. There was only one thing louder than the ensuing cacophony, and that was Dumbledore.
“Harry James Potter!”
Harry froze, inexplicably petrified. He could not move as Dumbledore rose from his desk, looking furious and came over to him.
“I tried to be patient! I tried to be understanding with you Harry! But if you insist on acting like a child, then I shall teach you a lesson!” Harry had never seen Dumbledore angry. It was an alarming sight, until he remembered something.
“You won’t punish me,” Harry hissed defiantly. “You never have. All those times you caught me breaking rules, you always let me go.”
“You should not mistake kindness for unwillingness.” Dumbledore raised his wand. Harry, realizing he was not bluffing tried to dive out of the way. “Retroceso!” The spell hit Harry squarely in the chest.
Harry felt a tingling sensation all over his body as he floated in mid-air. He had a horrified expression on his face as everything went dark.
Moments later, Harry was lying on the floor. He did not know why he was buried in a pile of clothing as he began to struggle to find his way out. His body felt lighter, weaker and all-around strange to him. He finally found an opening and stuck his head through it.
A wave of panic overcame him. He was still in Dumbledore’s office, but everything was bigger. Even Dumbledore towered over him more than usual. “What did you do to me?” Harry slapped his hands to his mouth. His voice was not his own, it was too high. Then he screamed. His hands were smaller; no softer, they were both.
Dumbledore just smiled as he crouched next to Harry. “I told you I would teach you a lesson. I have returned you to your childhood body, around the age of four, I should think.”
Harry was outraged. “Change me back, right now,” he screamed, in a voice nearly 12 years too young. It was then he realized he was naked, except for his robes, now many sizes too big, draping over him. He pulled them more tightly around himself.
“I think,” Dumbledore started, while scooping Harry off the floor, careful to keep the robes wrapped tightly around him. “We need to get you some clothes in your size.”
“Put me down!” Harry could not get used to his new voice. “Hang on,” Harry stopped struggling as he thought of something. “If you made me four again, then why can I still remember everything?”
“Your memories will remain,” Dumbledore stated, now walking down the school corridors. “Otherwise it would not be a very good lesson. But in time, even your mind will begin to think and function like a child’s, just like your body.”
“Change me back,” Harry repeated, starting to struggle again.
Dumbledore carried the struggling Harry to Hogsmeade and into a children’s clothing store. He purchased Harry a change of clothes then returned to the castle. He left Harry alone in a bathroom to change.
Harry grudgingly changed into the child’s robes, so he would not be naked, and into some Velcro shoes. “I could tie my shoes at four, you know,” Harry announced leaving the bathroom. Dumbledore tried to pick him up to go back to his office, but Harry darted from his reach. “Change me back.” Harry ran down the corridor as Dumbledore reached for him again. “I’ll talk to you, if you change me back.”
“It is too late for talk. Now stop running around before you hurt yourself.” Harry continued to run down the corridor. He, for some reason, wanted Dumbledore to chase him.
Dumbledore did not have to chase far. Harry rounded a corner and tripped over a raised stone. He fell, but only scrapped his knee. Yet, he was crying when Dumbledore picked him up. “There, there,” he soothed. “It’s only a scrapped knee.”
“I know it is, but I can’t stop crying.”
“I told you your body and mind would begin to think they were four again.
They were now entering Dumbledore’s office. “Please change me back,” Harry begged, tears still in his ears. “I’m sorry, I really am.”
“I know you are, but I cannot undo this spell so simply. You must learn a lesson first. The lesson I had in mind when I cast the spell.” Dumbledore sat Harry in the chair facing his desk.
“Ok, tell me the lesson.”
“You must learn it for yourself. I cannot simply tell you what you need to learn.”
“But, professor, how am I supposed to go to classes like this when school starts?”
“Harry, four-year-olds are not admitted to Hogwarts. If you wish to return to school, you must learn the lesson before term.”
“What? How can I learn a lesson, when I don‘t know what it is?”
“It is not a difficult lesson to learn. Now, I think it is time you were found a home for the summer …”
“I’m not going back to the Dursleys!”
“No, I daresay they would not want a four-year-old again. I, however, have a solution in mind.”