"LILLY! JUST GET OUT. I HATE YOU. LEAVE ME ALONE!" Tim's voice rang out with the loudest volume they'd yet heard him use, from upstairs.

Harry and Ginny paused in their conversation, to stare at each other. Tim had never yelled at Lily. Tim had never yelled at all.

"I'll go." said Harry, bounding up the stairs.

Kreacher was standing there on the landing outside the bedrooms, wringing his hands. He was always upset when the family fought. Usually it was the children, although every so often it was Harry and Ginny.

Wizards fighting frightened the poor old elf. Apparently with good reason. After the first loud fight Harry and Ginny had, Kreacher had been going mad with anxiety. It was then Harry dicovered that Sirius' family, the Blacks, who had owned Grimmauld place forever, often used their wands on one another, in anger.

With a quick jerk of his head, Harry sent Kreacher away, "It's fine, Kreacher." he told him, "I'll take care of it." Kreacher disappeared with a pop.

"Tim, I don't understand..." Lilly's voice was rising towards tears.

"GET OUT. YOU'LL ONLY LEAVE ME AGAIN! SO GET. OUT. NOW." the boy's voice was choked with tears, as well. Unmistakably, Harry felt the pressure of magic building up, like the air before a thunderstorm.

"But...I..." Lily was going to reply when, what had to be Tim's magic bursting forth again, shoved her out of the room and slammed the door.

"TIM! STOP IT!" yelled Lily, angrily. She realized Harry was right there, she turned quickly to him, her face red, "Dad! I came to check on Tim and he..." she rubbed at her streaming eyes, "He said he HATES me...and...and...He said I was..." she started sobbing in earnest.

Harry quickly picked her up and she buried her face in his shoulder like she had when she was younger, "I just wanted to help...why does he hate me?" she bawled.

"Lily-pet! Are you all right?" asked Harry worriedly. Her hair, skin and eyes were the proper color and there wasn't any evidence that she'd been a victim of an unintentional jinx (Albus, in a fit of temper had once given James cat ears).

Her crying subsiding a bit, she shook her head, "No, he just pushed me and I slid," she replied sniffing loudly and wiping her eyes some more. Harry pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket for her. He was relieved that Lily hadn't been hurt. It revealed a lot about Tim, that even in a fit of grief-fueled anger, his uncontrolled magic had not harmed Lily. It had looked to Harry as though Lily's feet had temporarily lost their friction so that she could be gently pushed, rather than thrown out of the room.

Calming draft all the way around, this evening, apparently.

Harry carried Lily back down to the kitchen where he and Ginny had been talking over the arrangements for Mary's funeral.

Hermione had been by with more forms. They sat stacked on the table, awaiting signatures. Since Mary's death, the adoption process could be hurried along a bit. With no need to leave a period of time for appeal, they could be named permanent guardians now. The adoption could take place in six months rather than a year, given that Mary was deceased and had named no father on Tim's birth certificate.

Before leaving, Hermione had asked them again, very seriously, if they felt they could handle Tim's "special needs".

Ginny and Harry hadn't even considered another arrangement.

"Lily-pet. It's all right. When people lose someone, they get angry, sometimes. And they take it out on the nearest people." Ginny said, hearing the last bit. To Harry, she said, "Do you want me to go?" meaning to check on Tim.

"No, you look after Lily." Harry gave the girl an extra squeeze and set her down, "I'll get Tim calmed down for bed." He kissed Lilly's cheek, "G'night Lily-pet, I'll look in on you when Tim's settled, all right?"

Harry headed back up the stairs. Tim hadn't come out of his bedroom all afternoon, feigning sleep whenever they checked on him. He'd come down for dinner, but most of it had gone uneaten. He hadn't spoken, merely nodding, shrugging or shaking his head to questions. Lilly had been told what had happened and that the funeral was in two days. Directly after dinner, Tim had returned to his room, only this time Lilly followed, presumably to offer what comfort she could.

Harry tried Tim's door. Its was stuck. On further investigation, it was sealed. The wood of the door melting into the wood of the door jamb. That was sort of impressive actually.

Harry used his wand to reverse it, entering a room that, quite literally, looking as though a bomb hit it. One could see where Tim had been standing when his magic burst forth in his defense. Every item from that epicenter had been flung away, the walls bowed outward, as did the floor and ceiling, and the windows were cracked. If this had been a muggle house, the whole floor might have exploded, but 12 Grimmauld place had housed wizards for more than a hundred years. It was reinforced against the strongest accidental and intentional magics.

This was what had shoved Lily right out onto the landing, but tellingly, hadn't harmed her in the slightest.

Harry could work with this. Unfortunately, Tim wasn't in the wrecked room. Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. The boy couldn't have left the house, one of the alarms would have sounded if he'd have even apparated accidentally out of the room.

The door of the old wardrobe was open a little bit. The force of Tim's magic should have slammed it shut.

This was becoming a pattern.

Harry opened the door wide enough that he could sit down. He pulled out his wand and began, almost idly, righting the furniture, the windows, the walls. He turned around once that was done to see Tim's blue eyes and tear streaked face staring back at him, in horror. A large bruise marred his forehead, showing that he'd, once again, been slamming his head against the floor.

The mind healers had explained to Harry and Ginny that, not infrequently, children who had been abused would, like mistreated house elves, punish themselves. In Tim's case this tendency was exacerbated by the nerve damage left by the Cruciatus curse. Some of his nerves had stopped being able to conduct anything but pain. It left him numb, clumsy, unsure of himself; occasionally it made him feel unreal, so he rereestablished his presence in his body by causing himself pain. Something he could feel.

The healers had said that it was possible that Tim would never be able to control his magic. He might eventually need to be confined, for his own protection, to St Mungo's ward for long term spell damage. The thought of Tim, spending his life locked up, like the Longbottoms, horrified the Potters.

It had also made Harry think of the tale of Arianna Dumbledore, "She never got over it, what those Muggles did to her." Aberforth had said. Percival Dumbledore had sought revenge against the people who'd damaged his daughter and ended up in Azkaban. Kendra Dumbledore had spent her life hiding the child's infirmity until it killed Kendra, in an explosion of accidental magic.

Harry thought this little episode gave lie to that. Tim had blown up the room, true, but he had pulled the blow where Lily was concerned, merely making her go away. That was no worse than anything James or Al had done.

Again, Harry vowed that he would find that damned formula.

"Hi." Harry said quietly.

Tim answered with a sniff. Then the boy just crumbled, His breath hitching in his chest. He hid his face, sobbing silently.

With a quick switching spell, Harry exchanged Tim's dusty clothes for pajamas and then gathered the boy to him. He stood and carried Tim to the remade bed. Harry sat, lifted his feet onto the bed, sitting with the boy on his lap, and his back against the headboard.

This was no time for words. Indeed there were no words. No matter what horrible flaws Mary may, or may not, have had, she was the boy's mother. As long as she was alive, there was always a hope that she could get better. Now there was nothing to do, but let the child cry himself out.

Do not pity the dead. Pity the living. Dumbledore had said that, when Harry had that strange vision or whatever it was. All those years ago. At times like these, it echoed loudly in his ears.

"D'you think Mum's gone to H-heaven?" whispered Tim. when he finally found his voice.

Harry sighed, "I don't know, really." he replied honestly, "I know she's gone somewhere safe. Where nothing can hurt her, anymore." he knew that without any doubt, "I don't know where we go when we die. We do go on, though. She will always be a part of you. And us now, through you." He wasn't sure the child would understand that, yet.

Harry picked up his wand that he had put down beside him and dimmed the light. He stood up, "Come on, snuggle down."

Obediently, Tim crawled under the covers Harry held up for him. Harry tucked the blankets in around him. "Accio, teddy." he said. The stuffed animal flew out of the wardrobe and Harry tucked it in with Tim.

Harry straightened, and then he paused, "Tim?" he asked, concerned.

Tim was trembling again, his blue eyes swimming "Mr. Potter?" he whispered, "Please. Don't...don't leave."

Harry smiled gently, and sat back down on the bed, "Move over then." Something unclenched a bit in Harry's chest, touched by the boy's request. It was a good sign, something that Harry's older children would have said when they were frightened or sad. The child moved over and Harry sat on top of the bed covers in his former position against the headboard.

"Mr. Potter?" asked the child after a bit, "Is-is Lily ok? Something happened...and I...what happened?"

"Your magic got frightened, that's all." Harry assured him, "You didn't hurt her. Didn't even scare her."

"I didn't mean...what I said." the boy began to cry again, "She'll hate me now."

Harry drew the weeping boy against his side, "She knows you didn't mean it. It's okay, you can tell her you're sorry tomorrow. She knows you's sad about your Mum."

The boy sobbed himself to sleep.

Sometime later, Ginny came in to check on them.

"I think I better stay here." whispered Harry. Tim was curled up against Harry's side, with his head resting on Harry's thigh, one hand clinging to Harry's shirt. If Harry were to move, it was likely he'd wake up.

Ginny smiled, taking in the tableau . She leaned down to give Harry a kiss, petted Tim's straight, blond hair. Noting the bruise on Tim's forehead, she took out her wand and whispered the charm to heal it.

Ginny kissed Harry again, "G'night, love." she said softly, "Call me if you need anything."

Harry took off his glasses and put them on the bedside table, settling in for the night.