Harry had Kreacher take him just to the outside of the man's anti-apparition alarms. It was a good five minute walk from where the man was actually holed up. Harry didn't want to turn this into a hostage situation; this was going to done as safely as possible. The man's alarms might not go off from Kreacher's apparition, but Harry's popping in would almost certainly have caused them to go off, unless the man was completely useless.

He found himself in Muggle London, in a neighborhood not far from where they'd originally found Tim. Harry was reminded of old Mundungus Fletcher, who used to hide in the seamier places in the Muggle world. A Wizard was always safer hiding so.

Harry pulled his invisibility cloak more tightly around himself and his house elf. It was in a miserable block of flats and up six flights. Avoiding the various inhabitants of the building was difficult, the stairwell was busy with people moving about. On one floor a group of teenagers sat on the steps, blocking it completely. Harry stood, fingering his wand, wondering what to do. Any use of magic might tip off his opponent. He didn't have much in the way of distractors in his pockets at the moment.

Kreacher, clicked his fingers. After a minute, the teenagers started shifting uncomfortably, until one of the girls put her hands to her ears, "What the hell is that noise?" she asked irritably,

"I don't know...Someone's telly broke?" offered on of the boys, "It's horrible."

"Well, come on. It's doing my head in." one of the other boys said grimacing.

Whatever Kreacher had done, Harry couldn't hear a thing, and Kreacher just grinned at him. They pressed themselves against the wall as the teenagers moved past them.

They came to a door that Kreacher pointed to. Harry nodded and then gestured with his thumb, signaling for Kreacher to head back to Grimmauld Place and lead the Aurors here. Harry took up a position just outside the door, even if the man had a Foe-glass, he wouldn't be able to see Harry with his cloak on. Harry settled in to watch the situation and wait for back-up.

((()))

Tim didn't know what he was expecting when he called for the house elf. There was no pop that announced Kreacher's arrival. Tim's chest was tight with anxiety and tears were dangerously close to the surface.

Patience.

"Can I watch telly?" asked Tim, trying to sound cheerful. He felt so odd. Shaky, like he normally would when he hadn't eaten in a while and he could hear the noise from the next flat as though it were in the room with him. He felt dizzy with standing up. He thought it would be best if he sat down quiet, for a bit.

" 'Course you can." The wizard told Tim, "Whatever you want." Amiable with drinking. The man tipped more booze into his glass and sat down in the living room, "Come on, then."

Tim nodded, sat himself down on the couch and started flipping through channels, reflecting as he did, how at the Potter house, he'd often felt bored without the telly. It never lasted long though, the Potters had about a million books and Lily was always willing to teach Tim a new game. If Lily wasn't around, Kreacher was or even Auntie Ginny or Mr. Potter.

He knew better than to trust in the man's seeming good humor. Drunks were more dangerous than junkies, in some ways. Junkies were only a problem when they didn't have their smack. It took so little time for them to pass out from a hit. Drunks though; they were often mean and sometimes they wanted other things. Things that, so far, Tim's Mum and his magic had prevented them from getting. Given his past experience with the man, it wouldn't be long before the man got mean, or creepy.

That was a sickening thought. The way he was feeling now, Tim doubted that he could do much about it, magically or otherwise. Hopefully, some food would sort him out.

Tim wondered if the Potters really were looking for him. This man was technically his father, after all. Tim wouldn't be the first one sent to stay with a father who was a right arsehole. Some of kids he knew had older brothers or sisters who had run away rather than stay with their parents.

Everyone knew what happened to those kids. The thought gave him cold shivers. Especially since that was where he was likely headed.

Stop that. said the voice in Tim's head, Mr. Potter will find you. He will not rest until he does.

Tim wondered how the voice would know. He wanted to believe that, but since Nana had died and Mum had gotten deep into the smack, Tim had stopped believing in fairy-stories.

Even ones about wizards? the voice persisted.

Yes, well, the fairy-stories about wizards often included lots of painful ways to die, too. Tim had seen Lord of The Rings.

A knock at the door announced the arrival of the pizza. The wizard picked up his wand and jerked his chin at Tim to go get it.

Tim took the money to the door. He was glad he'd ordered a big one, the man delivering it rolled his eyes at having to make that much change, but Tim gave him a fiver. He wished he'd dared say something to the man, but he was acutely aware of the wizard tapping his wand on the arm of the chair.

For a second, Tim thought he felt something brush past him, but dismissed it as his overactive imagination. He was always imagining things.

The smell of cheese and pepperoni were heavenly as Tim took the pizza box to the table. He couldn't believe it had been so long since he'd had one. It was his main diet when he lived with Mum and even Nana would order one on a Saturday night. He wondered vaguely if perhaps he could get Kreacher to learn how to make it, assuming he ever saw Kreacher again.

You will.

He poured some lemonade into a glass and the wizard helped himself to some as well, pouring some onto his whiskey.

Tim kept a furtive eye on the man. He seemed to be in a contemplative mood, making Tim nervous. That kind of quiet never boded good.

"So they made you sleep in a cupboard, you say?" asked the man curiously.

Tim nodded solemnly. He didn't say anything else because he'd learned that lies were much easier to believe if they were simple.

"Did he give you hidings?"

"Mr. Potter?" asked Tim quietly, the man nodded, "Yeah, all the time. Took me home from school one day cause I broke Miss Clearwater's jars. And...and they won't let me eat, sometimes" that was from the book again.

The wizard grinned a shark's smile, "Knew that Potter wasn't all he was made out."

Tim nodded again, took a bite of his food. He wasn't actually that hungry, but experience had taught him that one didn't turn down food when it was offered. He never missed a meal at his Nana's or the Potters, but there'd been more than one night his Mum had forgotten to get food, or had spent all the money on drugs.

When the wizard visited, his Mum usually fed him, but she herself was so edgy that it was hard for either of them to eat.

(((()))))

Harry couldn't believe his good fortune when someone knocked on the door of the flat to deliver a pizza, about sixty second after he'd sent Kreacher away. Tim appeared at the door, giving the man money, looking tired and frightened, but he didn't look hurt.

Harry glided in, past the boy. Many years of using the cloak had taught him to breathe and walk almost noiselessly. Tim put the box of food and the bottle of lemonade on the shabby kitchen table. Harry backed into the wall to take a good look at the boy's father. He was Harry's age, wearing muggle clothes. His hair was dark and long, caught up against the back of his neck. He looked like someone Harry should know.

The man took some of the lemonade and poured it on the firewhiskey he was drinking. Harry watched Tim watch the man.

"So they made you sleep in a cupboard, you say?" said the man.

Harry started, wondering why on earth Tim would say something like that, but long discpline on more hazardous stake outs (although none of such a vital, personal nature) stopped him from gasping or moving. Tim gave the man a solemn nod.

"Did he give you hidings?"

Tim gave an affirmative answer.

Aunt Marge, all those years ago, had wanted to know much the same thing of Harry "Do they give you the cane?" she'd asked, referring to Harry's fictitious school, "St. Brutus's Secure Center."

"Oh, yeah, all the time." he'd replied.

The man was clearly pleased by Tim's answers. Harry could only admire the boy's cleverness.

"Knew that Potter wasn't all he was made out." sneered the man.

Oh, Merlin, Harry realized who it was. It was Zacharias Smith. The only member of the DA who'd fled the Battle of Hogwarts. After the War, he'd dropped from sight, many people assuming he'd emigrated. His family had certainly denied knowledge of him (not that anyone asked very often).

Harry wondered if the man had known who Tim's foster family was, or if it was just an added complication.

Harry put it aside, for now. He couldn't do anything with Smith being so close to Tim. Even Protego could injure Tim in his current state. The Healers had told the Aurors that Tim was particularly susceptible to magical energies, at the moment. They'd been afraid of what the man's apparating away with the boy could have done, and they'd cautioned that any curses would probably do double damage to the small body until the magical changes had been absorbed.

He could probably get Smith's wand if the man would just step a little further away from Tim. Harry itched to do something. He didn't like Tim's pallor, nor the way the boy was obviously forcing himself to eat, as if fearing food wouldn't be available later.

The boy should be tucked up safe in bed, not trying to tell a sociopath what he thought would be acceptable.

"Well, like I said," Smith told the child, "You don't need to worry about it now." he reached over and ruffled Tim's hair.

Tim flinched a little, but he seemed to control it, for the most part. Hiding his split second expression of loathing under a patently false smile.

What he couldn't hide was the trembling of his hands, nor a flare of accidental magic. When Smith leaned back after touching the boy, Tim's hands trembled and the glass in them shattered, throwing lemonade and glass all over the both of them.

"You little bastard!" snapped Smith, smacking the boy across his face, almost instinctively it seemed.

Tim went very white, with a livid hand print across his cheek. Smith grabbed him by the upper arm, dragging him to stand, "What the hell was that for?"

It was enough.

Something drew tight, then snapped in Harry's chest. He threw back the cloak, "Take your hands off MY SON!" he bellowed, not caring that their were flats full of muggles on either side of them. Not caring anything except that his youngest child was being manhandled by this animal.

Smith's surprise lasted a full half second. He still had hold of Tim by the arm and Harry didn't dare try any jinx that might hit Tim.

"Expelli-" Harry said in his head. He flicked his wand, but in trying to avoid hitting Tim, his nonverbal spell was repelled. A hot yellow light met his red one, splitting it up, followed up by another flash that left a searing pain in Harry's side, knocking him over.

Harry's vision swam in and out for a second.

"Come on, boy." snarled Smith, then miraculously, Smith gave an inarticulate cry and finally, finally, Tim was away from him, across the room. Hiding in the closet for all Harry knew, but away.

Harry pushed himself to his knees, pointed his wand, "Avada Kedavra."

(((((()))))))

Tim was stunned when Mr. Potter suddenly appeared from nowhere. He thought he was in for the hiding of his life from the wizard and then Mr. Potter just appeared. His eyes were angry, hard and dangerous.

It had never occurred to Tim that Mr. Potter could have dangerous eyes.

"Take your hands off MY SON!" he shouted at the other wizard.

Tim almost looked around to see who Mr. Potter was talking about. Did he mean Tim?

Surely. The dark voice said in Tim's head, but too much was happening for Tim to really understand.

Mr Potter waved his wand, but even Tim could see the hesitation. The wizard held Tim between himself and Mr. Potter

For a terrible, confused sixty seconds, everything was bright lights and bangs and the wizard's hand bruising his arm and Tim feeling like he was going to throw up from being shaken.

"Come on, boy!" the wizard snarled. Mr. Potter had fallen to the ground. This man was going to take Tim away again and there was no one to stop him.

When the man let go of Tim's upper arm to get a better grip, Tim bit the man's grasping hand until he tasted blood.

The man roared and Tim scuttled away as fast as he could, not even knowing where he thought he was going, just prompted by everything in him to run.

"Avada Kedavra" gasped Mr. Potter. A flash of green light, and there was silence.

Tim turned slowly, having felt the force of tremendous energy move through the room, sensed he was no longer being pursued.

The wizard lay face down on the floor. As did Mr. Potter.

"Ohhh, god." Tim heard his own voice sob. Very slowly, very gingerly, he approached the two men, "Oh, no, no, no. Dad. Don't be dead. Please. No. Please." he tried to fight down his wail, but it welled up out of his throat, seemingly from his soul.

Mr. Potter pushed himself up from where he lay with his elbows. Tim went as dizzy with relief as he had been dizzy with horror a moment ago. Tim could tell Mr. Potter was hurt by the way he wrapped his free hand around his ribs. He got his knees under him, then slumped with his back against the couch, pulling his feet out in front of him, "Tim..." he coughed, his eyes no longer dangerous, but filled with pain, "I'm sorry...I..."

Tim had no idea what he was talking about, "Oh, fuck. Oh, hell." a litany of every curse Tim had ever heard came pouring out of his mouth as he threw himself into Mr. Potter's arms, "Oh, fuck. Dad." he whimpered to a stop, not really realizing what he was saying in that moment, "I thought you were dead. Oh god."

"Tim," whispered Mr. Potter.

Tim finally got a grip on his tongue, horror-struck at what he'd said in his panic.

"Tim. It's all right." he repeated, "Let go for a second. I have to call everyone. Let them know that it's safe. That you're okay." Mr. Potter said thickly and he coughed again. A little red and white foam flecked his lips, but his voice was loud enough as he said, "Expecto Patronum." Silver light sped off through the window, from his outstretched wand.

Mr. Potter put his wand arm back around Tim, pulling him to the side he wasn't guarding with his other arm. Tim was alarmed by the rattly sound he could hear every time Mr. Potter inhaled, "Are-are you..?" Tim whispered.

"I'll be fine." Mr Potter said quietly back, "Someone will be along in..."

The room was suddenly full of the sound of people. Tim hid his face, in fear, expecting another attack.

"Harry!" A familiar male voice called. Tim refused to look up. He wrapped his hands in Mr. Potter's robes to make it harder to take him away.

"Ron." coughed Mr. Potter, "Calm the fuck down. Where's Ginny?"

"Coming. Where's...Oh shit, Harry. What happened?"

Mr Potter couldn't answer, he was coughing again and Tim could smell blood on the man's robes.

"All right, Harry, it looks like he hit you with something nasty. Don't talk. I've got some..."

"Not 'till Ginny gets here. " Mr Potter's voice raspy now and he sounded like Nana had when she'd had pnuemonia. Tim dared a look at him; Mr. Potter was pale as a ghost, his green eyes vivid against the white of his skin. His lips were flecked with red and brown stuff.

He noticed Tim's movement, "S'okay," he said, looking down, "I've had lots worse," he wiped some of the foam away from his mouth with his sleeve, "They'll fix me up as soon as Auntie Ginny gets here."

"Does it hurt?" asked Tim, unable to stop himself.

Mr. Potter nodded, "Yeah, but I'll be all right." he closed his eyes, but his hold around Tim didn't slacken.

"Out of the way, Ron!" Auntie Ginny said, loudly.

Tim expected her to see to Mr. Potter, so he started to draw away a little. Instead Auntie Ginny took Tim in her arms, "Oh, lovey!" she said, sounding like she wanted to cry, she hugged him gently, as though he were delicate, "Did he hurt you? How do you feel?" she backed off to stare him in the face.

"Ginny?" that was Mr. Weasley's voice, Lily's Uncle Ron, Tim realized who it was now, "Harry won't let me give him anything until he knows you and Tim are out of here. How do the healers want us to move Tim?"

"Hermione's outside getting a taxi." replied Ginny, she turned her attention back to Tim, "Do you hurt anywhere?"

Surprisingly, he didn't. For the first time in a long time. He still felt shaky and sick though. And the noise in the room was too loud, all of the conversations too audible.

"...killing curse...be an enquiry..."

"...think he just flipped out..."

"...bring Potter up on charges..."

Tim knew what charges were. Charges were why they took Mum to jail. Were they going to bring Mr Potter up on charges? For what? For saving him? Did wizards have jails? Or would they just take Tim away from him? And Lily and Albus and James? Would they be sent somewhere?

The killing curse is illegal, the voice in Tim's head agreed, most of the time.

"Tim? Sweetheart?" Auntie Ginny was saying again, "Come on, we have to go."

Tim nodded, allowing her to pick him up. He relaxed his head into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume. It was a little like his Mum's.

"Ginny, we need to find out what happened."

"I'm not having this lot scaring him any more." she hissed, "You get Roslyn from the office and I won't have him questioned without one of the healers. Meet us at St. Mungos." She bent down, "Harry, I've got Tim. You let Ron look after you, right?"

Mr. Potter coughed again, "Love you, Ginny. Whatever happens."

"I know." she said, tightly.

Tim found himself thinking back to an American cop show he'd watched. Then thinking back to some of the books he'd read in the Potter's library.

All the way back to St Mungo's, the voice in his head was telling Tim what to tell the Aurors.