DISCLAIMER: The one and only disclaimer. I do not own the Harry Potter Characters. © JKR. Thanks.

A/N: I know, I know, I have other stories I could work on. But I have been reading a few de-aging fics, and I thought I might try my hand at it. I know that Blaise Zabini is black, but I'm taking near-artistic license for this fic. I like the thought of him being a little Italian heart-throb. Also, this is AU from year five. I have read HBP, but haven't had a chance to read DH. Just fair warning.

Ah, Youth

Chapter One

Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them—Antoine de Saint-Exupery

There was a disturbance in the force.

The tiny hairs at the nape of Professor Severus Snape's neck stood at attention as a low humming reverberated around the Potion's classroom. The acoustics of the room echoed as the hum rose to a whining pitch. Gritting his crooked teeth, the Professor looked up from the essay he was marking, dark eyes scanning the room for the source of his now rising trepidation.

Potter and Weasley…check.

Malfoy and Zabini…check.

Parkinson and Goyle…check.

Longbottom and Granger…

The Professor's eyes narrowed as Longbottom's cauldron curiously vibrated. The crystal cauldron was the source of the whining pitch, and the students' table was shaking from the force of the wildly spinning potion. A scowl twisted his features, and he opened his mouth to tell the two students to move...duck, anything…but he never got a chance.

With a sound of nails scraping across a blackboard, the crystal gave a death cry before vibrating one last time. Then it exploded. The puce potion rained down, and the students that had time ducked beneath their own tables.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for the eight students his eyes had lighted on. A simultaneous cry of pain, and then stillness, greeted his sharp ears as he leapt from his seat at the front of the classroom, his chair crashing into the wall as he hastened up the center walkway.

He stopped at the edge of the scene, sallow skin paling in horror. He took a step back, bumping into Brown and Patil's table, a squeak coming from beneath it as he stumbled. Then the one-time spy drew a deep breath, screamed, and fainted on the spot, landing on the table top heavily knocking askew the girls' cauldrons as well. But they were filled with harmless liquid that trickled down the legs to pool on the stone floor.

Lavender Brown shook with suppressed sobs of terror as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan crept to the scene of the accident.

A curious little wail escaped from one of the eight injured students, and Dean stopped, placing his hand on Seamus' shoulder. "We probably shouldn't touch the…stuff." Dean nodded toward the congealing potion. "Lavender." The girl snapped out of her stupor, "Grab a vial, a stopper, and a scoop. Parvati, go get Madame Pomfrey. The rest of you, gather your things and wait out in the hall."

Everyone hastened to do as the black boy commanded, rushing to grab their things and hastened out of the classroom, staring openly at the pile of robes on the floor. There was no open signs of what had happened to their classmates, at least not on first glance. But, while Dean was collecting a specimen of the potion-gone-wrong and Lavender was shifting from foot to foot, Seamus had time to study the robes. What he saw nearly made him faint as well. Neville Longbottom's round face was barely visible from within his robes, his eyes staring around with incomprehension in the gaze. Cupid bow mouth opened, and he stuck his thumb in, sucking gently.

If Neville was anything to go by…then all eight of his peers that had been doused with the unlucky boy's concoction would be, and Seamus was giving it a rough estimate, about two years old.

XXXXXXXX

Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, order of Merlin second class, stared at her employer in horror. The normally unflappable Highlands witch closed her open mouth with an audible snap, before her eyes narrowed. "This had better be a joke Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, or so help me Merlin, I will…I will…" She trailed off, hands wringing in her lap as she glared at the Headmaster.

"Unfortunately, it is no joke." The trademark twinkle was firmly in place, though the man's face was grave. "They are currently under the care of Poppy Pomfrey, as is Severus. I fear the shock was a little much on his already frayed nerves. He is ensconced in a separate, private room, and has yet failed to awaken from his faint."

"He fainted!?" At this, Minerva jumped from her seat, "Students from my house and his own were in danger, and the man fainted?" Her upper lip curled as she growled softly. "My little Gryffindors, my Hermione…"

Albus chuckled. "Little is the key word, Minerva. According to Poppy's report, Messrs Malfoy, Goyle, Longbottom, and Potter are two years of age. Mister Weasley is two years three months. Miss Parkinson, Miss Granger, and Mister Zabini are all age two years ten months."

Minerva paled and regained her seat, wringing her hands again. "Albus, what are we going to do?"

"First, we must inform the parents, secondly, we must make it very clear that there is nothing to be done until Severus is awake and has a chance to run some tests on a sample of the potion. Thirdly, we are going to have to have some sort of caretakers for our very young charges. It is just a good thing that Mister Potter and his friends managed to vanquish Voldemort—come now Minerva, he is dead, and it is just a name—before this little mishap took place. It could have been much worse. Hogwarts is safe enough for them at the moment."

"Eight toddlers…and I am to assume that none are out of nappies?"

Albus laughed again. "Miss Granger and Mister Zabini are the only two capable of using the loo. Miss Granger seems to be quite proud of that fact, as she expected applause from Poppy and her peers when she did. When we inform the parents, perhaps they would be so kind as to indulge us with information on what the children were like as toddlers."

"Then they have none of their memories?"

"It does not appear so at the moment."

Minerva sighed, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Was it too much to hope that they might have made it through their seventh year without some sort of catastrophe?"

"Now why is this a catastrophe Minerva? Personally, I find children delightful."

"I doubt it shall be you that is appointed as caregiver, Albus. A doting grandfather figure to the children while they are in this state, perhaps, but not round-the-clock care like they will need. Eight! Good heavens."

XXXXXXXX

Ginevra Weasley hiked up the stairs to the hospital wing. Nimbly avoiding a trick stair, she sighed. It seemed that every other day, for some reason or another, she was visiting her boyfriend or brother while they were under the tender care of the Hogwarts Nurse. Hermione was probably already there, lecturing her brother and boyfriend about altercations in the hallway. She wished that Professor McGonagall had told her how bad it was. Her head of House seemed to be a bit stressed, so Ginny hadn't questioned much, and simply made her way to the wing in question.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she swung a left and stifled a yawn. It was past lunchtime, but her nocturnal activities with her boyfriend kept her up half the night, and she ached for sleep. Perhaps after she paid Ron and/or Harry a visit, she would lay down for a nap. She had the rest of the day off, and wanted to make sure she was rested up for Harry's late night snogfest.

Taking a right, she neared the Hospital, another yawn overtaking her. She made it to the doors taking a moment to wonder at the fact they were closed, before she pushed them open, stepped inside and stopped mid-stride.

There were babies everywhere!

On the nearest bed sat a prim girl with curly brown hair, pointing imperiously at a small dark-haired girl who was being held down and tickled by a very cute little boy with shaggy black hair.

On another bed, a little redhead was talking excitedly to a boy with thick unruly dark hair, waving his hands and gesticulating wildly before cracking up in high-pitched giggles. On the bed next to them a sullen little boy with blonde hair and a snub nose pouted.

She felt an insistent tugging on her robes, and she looked down. A tiny boy with a round face and large brown eyes stared up at her, before holding up his arms, indicating he wanted to be picked up.

"Ah, Miss Weasley." Poppy bustled out of a private room, on her hip rested a chunky dull-faced boy. "I see that you have made acquaintance with young Mister Longbottom." She jerked her chin indicating the child that was now happily cuddled against her side.

"W-What happened?" Ginny was dazed as she stared at the children.

"Well, now, isn't that the million galleon question? Apparently Mister Longbottom caused some sort of explosion in potions, and his reward was to turn himself and his peers into toddlers."

"Who are all these children…er…"

"Well, the redhead would be your own brother." She pointed with her free hand. "The boy he's 'talking' to is Mister Potter. Mister Zabini is currently tickling Miss Parkinson as punishment deemed by Miss Granger for not applauding her ability to use the loo. This here is Mister Goyle, and Mister Malfoy is currently pouting because he is not allowed to have a doughnut."

Ginny felt herself grow faint. "Mum is going to go mental!" And then a new thought occurred to her. "I'm dating a toddler!?"

"Well, that would be highly inappropriate Miss Weasley, so I would advise you against it. However, we shall be informing your mother. As it is, we need a few volunteer caretakers for the children. We thought you might consider helping, since your brother is one of the unfortunate victims."

"I…well…" She paused, shaking her head. "I don't know much about babies. I'm the youngest, and Mum was wore out by the time I arrived."

"Professor Dumbledore did say that whoever participated would be getting full credit for the time they had to take care of the children, and no formal classes would be attended, but tutors would be available."

Neville snuggled deeper into her side, and she nodded. "Yes Ma'am." She had the oddest feeling she was going to regret agreeing to this.

XXXXXXXX

Grownups never understood anything. Hermione's tawny eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. Once again, speaking slowly and enunciating as plainly as she could. "Get my mother right now, I'm tired of being here with you imbeciles. This makes no sense, I should be at home, in my room, looking at my books or playing with my parents. Get them, right now!" She stomped her foot and tossed her head.

XXXXXXXX

"What do you think she's babbling about, Madame Pomfrey? It sounds like she's just saying mah, mah, mah. I can make out a word or two, like Mummy and book, but that's it." Ginny stared at the brown haired toddler in confusion.

Hermione threw her head back, and drew a deep breath. "Mummy!!?!"

Ginny reeled back as if slapped. The girl's voice echoed through the infirmary, startling everyone within. A few moments later, as the last of the sound rose to pitches unknown to man, the little boy settled on her hip whimpered. Then it was as if a floodgate had been opened. Every child in the room took up the cry.

Wailing and screaming, Hermione Granger was in the midst of a terrible fit. Her tiny little body seemed twice it's size, and her face was crimson from expelling her air. She threw herself down on the bed and kicked at Ginny as she made to comfort her. She threw her head back and arched her body, all the time crying.

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy! NOW!"