In a panic, a thin undersized boy hurtled down a stone staircase that was clearly intent on changing where it came out onto the third floor. If it did that he'd have to double back and he'd been even later than he already was.

As soon as he realized this, the boy hopped up onto the stone railing. As the stair ponderously moved, the boy leapt into the air, counting on his magic to slow his fall down to something survivable before he hit the second floor landing. He tucked into a tumble that he'd learned from his many falls from his broomstick.

In his head he heard his best friends berating him for trying to break his neck. Really though, it wouldn't matter if he broke his neck on the staircase, that would be preferable to the fate that would meet him if he didn't get his arse down to the dungeons five minutes ago

Harry was late for Potions class.

Again

He was sure that this time Snape would follow through on his threat to make him into potion ingredients. He sprinted down the stair behind the tapestry, not being able to remember the incantation that Hermione had used that had flattened the stairs, as much as he tried.

He slid around the corner by the humpbacked witch, then past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. As he ran, he cursed Ron out in his head, wondering why Ron hadn't bothered to wake him up before he left.

Finally, he was in the stone hallway that led to Snape's dungeon. The door was still open, which meant that class hadn't yet started. Harry took some gulping breaths and tried to walk in as unobtrusively as possible.

The classroom was empty.

After a second, Harry realized that it was Saturday. The rest of his class was off in Hogsmeade, but Harry was in detention with Snape. At least he hoped it was Snape.

He looked down at his hand, which was still raw and bleeding with the cuts Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his hand. Even after he'd soaked it in murtlap, it still bled. He noticed that the blood had soaked through his right sleeve. Little droplets were appearing on the floor.

"Let me see that, Potter."

Professor McGonagal had appeared beside him. Harry thought he remembered seeing her standing in the corridor in her cat form.

"You know, James was just the same," she was saying as she waved her wand over the cuts, "Couldn't tell a liar to save his life."

The blood stopped dripping onto the floor.

"Thank you, Minerva." Snape's voice cut in, just as Harry was beginning to hope that perhaps his detention was to be served with Minerva. She was very stern, but like Dumbledore before her, she never used methods of discipline that were likely to leave permanent scars.

Snape on the other hand...

"Permanent scars, Potter?" sneered Snape.

Shit. Had he said that out loud? Had he been slipped a babbling elixir? Was he down here so Snape could give him an antidote?

"Actually, Potter, I was hoping we could just have a word." Harry stared at Snape, who smiled and leaned against his desk. The expression was a little ironic, but there was none of the usual nastiness in it.

Harry looked around the classroom again. McGonagol was gone, although Harry thought she might just be outside the door. He realized that without transition, they were standing in her office. No, Harry realized, it was Dumbledore'soffice. Snape was leaning against the Headmaster's desk.

Harry started scrambling in his pocket for his wand. Behind Snape, the huge snake, Nagini, was drawing back to strike.

"Professor!" cried Harry, "Move!" he pointed his wand with no thought for what spell he would use.

The snake was transfixed for a moment in a flash of light, then it scuttled away now on six legs. A harmless insect.

Harry opened his eyes to darkness. Ginny lay beside him breathing softly. After a moment, Harry pulled the blanket back over himself, willing his heart to slow down. It had been a long time since he'd had one of those dreams.

After a few minutes of tossing and unable to get comfortable, he sighed. Got out of bed, pulling on a pair of socks against the late night chill. He picked his wand and glasses up from the night table.

"All right, Harry?" whispered Ginny.

"Fine. Dream." Harry whispered back.

"You want company?" Ginny had her own share of dreams.

"No, I'm fine." Harry thought about what Dudley had said just a few nights ago about that phrase, "I'm just going to check on the children." this was his habit for years now. Nothing cleared the nightmares like seeing the children peacefully sleeping.

By the light of her night light Lily was sleeping half off her bed again, with her blankets scattered everywhere. Ginny said she took after Fred and George, that way. So much energy that she never seemed still, even in sleep. Harry threw the blankets back onto the bed, smiling as Lily drew them around her like a cocoon.

There was a stealthy movement behind him. The house wards hadn't gone off, so Harry was pretty sure he knew what...who... it was. He turned slowly, lighting his wand with a nonverbal lumos.

Their new foster son, Tim, drew away from the light, frightened, "Sorry, Mr. Potter." he whispered.

Harry smiled at the boy, "Hello. Couldn't sleep?" they had expected that Tim was likely to have some odd behaviors. Harry had discovered that one of them was wandering around the house at night. He'd asked Kreacher to keep an eye on the boy, unobtrusively and to wake himself or Ginny if it seemed that the boy needed them. "You go on back to bed, Kreacher." said Harry, knowing that the old elf was around somewhere, "I'll stay up with Tim now."

"You don't have to, Mr Potter." Tim said, his eyes a little alarmed, "I'm fine. Kreacher just got me some water and I needed to use the loo and I promise I'll go back to bed and I won't be a bother." Tim almost always spoke with no pauses between his sentences. That is, when he actually spoke.

Harry sighed. He couldn't get Tim to call him anything but Mr. Potter, "Would you like some hot chocolate?" he asked gently, "I was just going to make some."

The boy swallowed, hard. The mindhealers had warned the Potters that Tim was very frightened of men. One of the reasons they felt that the foster parents should be a well established family was that it appeared that Tim's mother had had "unstable relationships with men".

Typical mindhealer understatement, thought Harry.

He held his hand out to the small boy, who took it with an air of reluctance. Harry noticed with a little smile that Tim held the teddy Harry had given to him the night they'd taken him into care. It hardly ever left Tim's side.

Harry led the little one to the kitchen. Kreacher had heard Harry's suggestion, because he was putting the makings of hot chocolate on a tray on the table, along with a calming draft and vials of dreamless sleep potion (in both the adult and child dosages).

"Thank you, Kreacher." said Harry. "You go on to bed, now. Get some sleep."

Kreacher bowed, and slunk off to his cupboard.

Harry, used his wand to prepare the hot chocolate, even though he might have otherwise done it by hand. The mind healers had said it was vital that Tim see magic used in everyday life. He considered the calming draft for a moment, but Tim didn't seem unduly distressed, just edgy and nervous.

Well, that made two of them. Seeing Dudley the other night, hearing (and reading) Dudley's take on their childhood and then taking little Tim in had reawakened some feelings Harry hadn't thought about in years.

This was something Ginny and he had gone over in their classes and sessions with the mindhealers before they had applied for their foster-care licence. Harry was well aware that, having come from an abusive home himself, a foster child might bring up some issues for him.

On the other hand, it was a healthy outlet for his saving people thing.

He handed the boy some not-that-hot chocolate. Comparing the little one's tense, alert demeanor to his own children's, at the same age in the same situation. James would have chattered happily, if he had Harry all to himself, and Al would have demanded a story. Lily would have insisted that Kreacher join them for a tea party and Kreacher would have changed into his best tea towel for the occasion.

Tim just watched Harry soberly, drinking his hot chocolate.

Harry, summoned a tin of biscuits from the cupboard. He set them down on the table and pushed them toward Tim, who hesitantly took one. Harry helped himself as well.

"Did you have a bad dream?" asked Harry.

Tim nodded, but didn't volunteer anything.

"Mm, me too." said Harry seriously. The child was so utterly unchildlike that Harry was a little at a loss.

The boy put his mug down on the table, empty.

"We're going out tomorow." Harry said, remembering the planned outing "You remember Hermione and Dudley from the other night? They'll be there. And a few other people." Harry hoped that it wouldn't be too overwhelming for Tim.

The boy didn't answer for a bit, "You won't need to lock me up, Mr Potter." He whispered, finally, hesitating over his words, "I know to stay out of things. Maybe I can help Kreacher or..."

Harry sighed, picturing Ginny's face when she heard this bit. Tim had already said enough things over the past few days that made Ginny turn white and leave the room, "No, Tim." Harry cut him off gently, "I mean we're going. The whole family."

Tim's eyes flashed fear and sorrow, and he bit his lip, "Oh. So you're taking Kreacher?"

"No. I mean, Kreacher is family, but so are you, now." Harry explained patiently. He thought he remembered being a bit like this himself, the first year he was at Hogwarts. He seemed to recall asking Ron if he really had Christmas presents. Of course, when Harry started Hogwarts, he'd been eleven not seven (Tim was tiny, apparently suffering from some variety of failure to thrive that the healers were still trying to sort out whether mental or physical). Harry didn't know if that made things better or worse.

"You mean...you want me to come too?" Tim's eyes were huge.

Harry smiled, "Yes. I think you'll have fun. Lily wants to show you everything." Lily, to Harry and Ginny's great pleasure, was taking her new role as big sister very seriously. It helped of course, that Lily would be entering Hogwarts next fall. The prospect of receiving a wand, had the effect of making most wizarding children reject the coddling that Tim was getting as babyish. It also helped that Tim elicited Lily's penchant for looking after people.

"Oh." Tim didn't seem to want to say more. Perhaps fearful of saying the wrong thing and making Harry angry. Of course, after James and Al's antics, there were very few things a small boy could do to really get Harry angry. Irritated and exasperated perhaps, but not angry.

"Come on." Harry held his hand out again, "Let's get you back to bed."

Tim took his hand a little less reluctantly, this time. Harry also noticed that Tim took three or four biscuits out of the tin and furtively put them in his pocket.

Kreacher had already told Harry and Ginny that the boy had been putting food aside in a bag under his bed. Kreacher and Ginny had both been concerned about Tim leaving spoiled food around, but Harry knew what Tim was doing. He had told Kreacher not to clean under the bed and he'd take care of it. It looked like this was as good a time as any.

"Hey, Tim?" said Harry as they walked up the dark stairway to Tim's new room, "Those biscuits are going to get pretty stale in your pocket."

Tim stopped. Harry stepped down a couple of stairs as Tim turned to face him. In Harry's wandlight, the boy looked stricken.

"You know you can always get something from the kitchen." Harry continued casually, "Or ask Kreacher." He started moving again, drawing the boy along with him, "But if its easier for you, I could put a cupboard for food in your room. I can spell it to keep things fresh too. I just don't want things attracting mice, right?"

He opened the door to Tim's room and Tim scrambled into his bed, eyeing Harry warily, With a quick spell, Harry pulled up one of the floorboards, suddenly remembering how he'd hidden things at the DUrsley's. A few more spells and he'd created a little food cache complete with stasis charm. Anything Tim put in would stay fresh and it wouldn't become an attraction for mice and bugs. He held out his hands for the biscuits from Tim's pocket. Tim handed them over sheepishly and then Harry pointed his wand under the bed and summoned the bag Tim had hidden.

Tim let out a little squeak of protest. Harry tried to look reassuring, "It's okay, I just want to put the food away." Harry pulled out more biscuits, an apple, some cooked carrot, half a sandwich, some cheese and other small portable items of food. Harry noticed with a pang, that except for the biscuits, none of the items of food could really be put in the category of "treats". Tim had the omnivorousness of a child who was no stranger to hunger. Not once had Tim either asked for or refused food, nor had he expressed any preferences, except for taking a great many of the chocolate biscuits.

Harry put the food into the little hiding space and placed the board over the top, "There you go. You can eat anytime you want without having to go all the way to the kitchen. Just don't get crumbs in bed." Harry made a mental note to let Kreacher know, and to perhaps make sure that the cupboard always had a little something in it.

Harry looked at the other things that were in the bag. A few toys that Tim had received from St Mungo's staff were in there. Tim started forward with one hand out, only to jump back when Harry looked up at him, seemingly too terrified to speak.

Harry drew out a photo album. It was old, dusty and Harry knew exactly where it had come from.

His study.

The one place the children weren't allowed to go and even Ginny knocked before she entered. The one place he'd asked Tim not to go.

Harry held the object up. It held the photographs of his parents, Sirius, Remus and even a few of Severus Snape that had come into Harry's possession after the Ministry had read Snape's will. They were pictures of Snape and his mother, Lily.

"Sorry. Sorry" Tim threw up a hand and cowered, before Harry could do anything.

The cowering got rid of any impulse to shout Harry might of had. The last time he'd had an urge to shout like this was last summer when James had taken out Harry's broom (the newest Lightning Bolt model) without permission. James had been upset by Harry's shouting that time. Tim would be devastated.

Harry took a long breath, getting a handle on his exasperation (his mind healer would have been proud). Tim was close to hyperventilating with fear.

Harry let out his breath and counted to ten in his head. When he thought he could speak without sounding irritable, he said, "I need to put this back. If you want to look at things in my private study, you have to ask. It's really not polite to do otherwise." Harry realized that he sounded like Remus as he said that. Remus' mild remonstrances had always carried more weight that other people's tantrums. "I need to get to bed myself." Harry leaned forward and patted Tim's pillow, "C'mon, lie down." he told the baffled, frightened child who lay down, shivering.

"Call me or Auntie Ginny if you need anything, yeah?" Harry whispered covering him up. They'd deal with the bookshelf pilfering tomorrow.

Harry curled up next to Ginny, so tired, he didn't know he'd fallen asleep. In his dream, he was back in the Headmaster's study.

"Amazing how children always seem to do the one thing that you wanted them not to do." said Snape sardonically.

"What?" asked Harry sharply, he couldn't think what he was doing here. Snape leaned casually against the headmaster's desk, looking rather relaxed. For Snape anyway, "Did...did you send for me?" Harry was confused. Something important had happened. Something to do with his family?

Ginny had been caught trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. Was that why he was here..? "Sir...Ginny didn't take the Sword. We found it. The Silver Doe took us to it..." Harry didn't have a hope that Snape would listen to him. Snape never did, but Harry felt compelled to try to keep Ginny as far out of this as possible, "Don't turn her over to the Carrows."

Snape didn't move, although the corner of his mouth quirked up, "I'm well aware of that Silver Doe, Mr. Potter." he said, quietly, "And the Carrows have been dead for some time."

Yes, that's right, Harry realized, dead for years now. And Harry hadn't even been at Hogwarts when the Carrows were there. He hadn't been a Hogwarts student for twenty years. And Snape was...

"Sir." Harry began slowly, his mind seeming to lurch into motion, "You're dead."

Snape nodded calmly, "Caught up now, Potter?" he asked, softly. With none of the rancor his voice used to hold for Harry.

"I'm dreaming?" Harry hoped he was dreaming, he had too much to do to be dead.

Snape nodded again, looking amused, "Yes, you are."

Another thought occurred to Harry, "Are you real, or am I dreaming you?"

Snape rolled his eyes, in the manner he used when he felt Harry was being particularly thick, "That's a useless question, Potter. If I were to tell you I was visiting from beyond the grave, that is precisely the sort of thing your fevered subconscious could imagine me doing. Conversely, a visitation might be inclined to allow you to think this is all a dream for their own purposes. Draw your own conclusions for once."

Harry was definitely going to have to owl Healer Phoebe in the morning.

"So, what are you doing here, then?" having remembered that he was now older than Snape was when Snape died, Harry would be damned if he referred to Snape as "Sir". He felt in his sleeve, willing his wand to be there. It was, to his relief. Harry didn't like to travel even his own dreamscape without it.

"I told you. I just wanted a word." Snape stood up. He was still dressed in his black teaching robes. He looked better than the last night Harry had seen him alive. Younger perhaps, or just better fed and better groomed. Harry considered that he'd never seen Snape look well rested in his whole time in school.

"About what? I assume if this was going to be one of those really nasty dreams, you would have started bleeding all over me by now." Harry had been plagued with that particular nightmare for two or three years after the war ended.

Again, Snape smiled that ironic smile, "Not tonight, Potter. If you like, I can arrange it for another time." Snape's smile grew wider at Harry's shudder, "No?" Snape walked to the door. "Come on, then."

Harry followed, "Where are we going?"

"Just come along."

They walked through the door, coming directly out onto the sunlit grounds rather than through the castle. Harry distantly noted that this would not be possible in the real castle.

The sky was bright and the trees clad in early summer foliage. Snape seemed to walk with a purposeful stride until they stood, side by side, at the edge of the lake.

They stood there for a minute or two, just looking. Harry thought this was the same place where Snape had spoke with his mother in their fifth year. Where Snape had asked Harry's mother if they were still best friends. The thought of it made Harry's heart ache a little.

"You know," said Harry in a low voice, "After you died, and I was trying to clear your name, Ginny said you'd been weird all year. She said when you found she and Luna and Neville trying to steal the sword, how you'd insisted to the Carrows that sending them into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid was so much worse than anything they could come up with. She said at the time, none of them could figure out why you were protecting them."

Snape nodded, "Dumbledore..." he paused swallowed, "Made me swear to look after the students as best I could." Snape turned to Harry, his face darkening, "Because I had done such a stellar job looking after you, I suppose." he hissed, "It wasn't easy to keep you alive, you know. When you were so bound and determined to get yourself killed."

Harry had had some time to consider what things must have looked like to Snape. He sighed, "It all seemed like a good idea at the time."

Snape crossed his arms and grunted what sounded like an agreement, then "I'm sorry."

Harry stood staring at Snape. "Sorry..?" Harry said blankly, considered for a moment how to take that. Whether a product of his fevered subconscious or not, it wasn't what he was expecting Snape to say, "Sorry...for what?"

Snape's jaw clenched, "You want a litany of my crimes, Potter?" he snarled.

"No...I...just don't think you owe me anything." Harry shrugged. The sky was beginning to take on an ominous grey cast.

Snape took a long breath, seeming surprised, "Ah." he said, "Well, I suppose, I feel differently." he said stiffly, "I suppose, I should tell you that I had intended to take action on the things I learned in our occlumency lessons before they were cut short.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, "I'm sorry about that..."

Snape raised a hand to stop Harry's explanation, "I was going to go to Dumblebore with the memories I had gleaned from your mind during our occlumency lessons. I knew that Dumbledore had place you there for the protection the wards gave you, but I was convinced that another way could be found. I had intended to threaten Dumbledore with going to the Ministry. My intention was to have you placed in the care of an order member. And then you pulled that..." Snape paused, looking for a word,

"Ill-conceived childish stunt?" supplied Harry, quietly, remembering too well what it had been like to look into the memory of Snape's ambushing by his father and Sirius. How furious and demented Snape had appeared when he discovered Harry in the Pensieve.

"Hm. Yes." replied Snape bitterly, "Well, I stopped, after that. I decided that the best plan would be to ignore you. I still could have followed up on what I'd seen, but I decided that what I'd seen must have been...well..."

"Not that bad? Not your problem?" Harry finished Snape's sentence again. Harry had spent a few years being angry at Dumbledore, but he really couldn't fault Snape. Snape's own life had been too perilous to spend too much time on such things.

Snape looked away, shrugged "I knew it was bad." he continued quietly, "Did you never wonder why you didn't get in more trouble than you did? Delores Umbridge would have been delighted to back any punishment I chose. With Dumbledore out of favor and on the run from the Ministry, I could have had you expelled with a clear understanding that the blood wards would keep you safe from Voldemort. "

Harry wondered if that were true, or merely an explanation his dreaming mind was creating. Perhaps Minerva knew some of this. He'd ask her next time he saw her.

"You have a new ward, Mr. Potter." Said Snape, changing the subject unexpectedly, not that Harry minded.

"You mean Tim?" said Harry, smiling fondly now.

"Look after him, Mr Potter." said Snape softly.

"Harry? C'mon, we'll be late if you don't get up." Ginny was shaking Harry's shoulder and sunlight was pouring into the room.

Tim and Lily held hands as they followed Ginny down into the underground. Harry followed close on their heels.

Harry always followed his family, keeping his eyes on them, watching their backs. His training as an Auror only encouraged his own native watchfulness (it couldn't be called paranoia if they really were out to get him). Harry could still hear Moody's refrain in his head, after all these years, "Constant vigilance!"

Lily was delighted, this was the first time she'd ever taken the underground and she was thrilled to be meeting her new cousin.

Tim had no problems with the tube. He'd been on it with his mum lots of times he'd said, apparently trying to ease Ginny's worries that their first outing as a family might be hard for him. Tim had shrugged and said that sometimes he took it alone if he had to pick up his mum's "medicine".

Ginny had swallowed hard and fussily cleared the breakfast table when Tim had said this, turning around to the sink to hide her overly bright eyes. Understanding far too well what Tim was referring to when he spoke of his mum's "medicine".

Hermione had explained a bit to Ginny and Harry about heroine; it was almost unknown in the Wizarding World. It just didn't have the same effect on wizard nervous systems. There were quite a few potions that used the basic ingredient, papaver somnifera, but unless activated by the magic of a potioneer, the effects would be cancelled out by the taker's magic.

There were, of course, more than a few potions wizards were known to become addicted to in the same way that Tim's mum had to muggle drugs. All the vices to be found in the Muggle world certainly had their equivalent among wizards.

That morning with Tim had been unsettling, he was very watchful and wary. Harry wondered if the boy was waiting to be punished for breaking into his study the previous night. Harry knew that Tim had seen him return the photograph album to the room and then lock it magically. This morning. Harry heard Tim walk softly out of his room, and then hurry down the stairs, avoiding Harry completely. Probably fleeing to the relative safety of Lily's presence.

Harry wouldn't have worried about Tim going into his study, if there hadn't been some dangerous objects locked up in there. Mostly it was the books that Harry used for his work, and a couple of amulets that were issued by the Dept of Magical Law Enforcement. Those things had their own wards, but Harry didn't even like the children in the same room with them.

At breakfast Tim had eyed Harry and Ginny fearfully, keeping close to Lily. Harry wanted to talk to the boy, reassure him, but Tim was so skittish. Harry worried that he'd upset the boy if he pushed. So he let Lily chatter happily about the day ahead to Tim.

He wasn't fooled by Lily's seeming obliviousness. A few times, he caught Lily looking between Tim and himself, then she redoubled her efforts at cheerful chatter. Harry reflected that Lily had the same fierce urge to protect the helpless that her mother and grandmothers had.

When Harry had went upstairs to get his cloak, he heard Lily's step on the stairs, "Dad?" she asked seriously as he turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Is Tim in trouble?" she asked, sounding worried.

"Why do you ask?" Harry, evasively.

"He just asked me if you use the belt or would he get off with just a smacking?" Lily asked, "I told him that you don't believe in smacking, and that its Mum who does the shouting. But that seemed to make him worse. He thinks he's in horrible trouble."

Harry sighed and sat down on the step , "Thanks for telling me, love. He's not in any trouble. He just went into my study last night, and I told him off. I forgot to lock it because I know you and the boys never go in there without me."

"And he thinks you're not done telling him off?" Lily asked shrewdly, "I'll tell him you're done, then." she smiled brightly, gave Harry a quick hug, and scampered back down the steps.

The rest of the morning had gone easily enough. The ride on the underground not much different to what Harry remembered. Lily was holding Tim's hand protectively as they made their way up the escalators and out onto the sunlit London street.

"Come on, you lot." said Ginny, glancing over her shoulder, "We should meet Dudley and Phillip outside. They won't be able to see it without us."

The Leaky Cauldron was the same as ever, although old Tom had retired, with his son taking over as barman. Ginny and Harry often brought the children down of an evening or on a Saturday afternoon.

Standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron was Eleanor excitedly trying to explain to Phillip and Dudley that there was a door there and giggling because they couldn't see it.

"Is that them?" squealed Lily, "Is it?"

"Yes." replied Harry, "Dudley!" he called, waving.

The three of them turned to look at the Potters.

Eleanor blushed and looked down, but Lily, like her brothers, had nary a shy bone in her body. She rushed up to Eleanor, with Tim in tow, "I'm your cousin Lily!" Eleanor looked startled, but pleased so Lily continued, "I'm so glad you're a girl! My other cousins are boys-well Victoire is eighteen and is much too grown up to bother with me and cousin Rosie is at school and Hugo's lots of fun, but y'know sometimes boys just don't get things."

Eleanor smiled, "Are you a witch too?" she said tentatively.

"Yes! And we're going to be in the same year at school. Dad said I could get my wand today, if I want. Are you getting yours today as well?" Lily asked.

Eleanor glanced at Phillip and Dudley who were looking on fondly, "Can I? Papa? Dad?" she asked breathlessly.

Phillip glanced at Dudley, who smiled and nodded, "Well, Tich, if your Aunt and Uncle show us how to get in here and then take us to wherever you get one, I don't see why not." Phillip stepped forward and caught Ginny in a hug and then Harry, "So where are we going?" Our Eleanor says this is the right place, but I can't see what she means."

Ginny smiled and took Phillips hand, glancing around she pointed her wand at him "Muggle animadverto videlicet!"

"Oh, my." he looked up and it was obvious that he could now see the sign and doorway to the Leaky Cauldron, "Oh, my." he repeated dazedly.

"You'll be able to see Wizard things when you're with Eleanor now." said Ginny, repeating the spell on Dudley, who looked as dazed as Phillip.

"Oh," exclaimed Lily, turning to Eleanor and pulling Tim forward a bit "I forgot. This is my foster brother, Tim! He's only been at our house since Wednesday."

Tim drew back from Phillip and Dudley, closer to Lily's side.

"Hello Tim. We met the other night, remember?" Said Dudley, in a gentle voice reminiscent of the voice Hagrid used with newborn monsters and injured bowtruckles.

Tim nodded seriously but didn't speak.

They all trooped into the now visible Leaky Cauldron.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter!" called the barman, "Mr and Mrs Weasley were just here. Said they'd meet you at Fortescue's."

"Thank you, Bert."

Dudley hung back to walk with Harry as Ginny led the rest of them through the back of the Leaky Cauldron and to the wall that opened onto Diagon Alley, "How's Tim been?" Dudley asked softly.

"What you'd expect. The healer's weren't happy with his condition. Malnourished, lots of bruises, really distrustful and convinced he'd done something terrible." replied Harry, "Hoards food. Sleeps pretty badly, but that might just be the transition. To be honest he's a little eerie to be around. Really too quiet for a seven year old. I guess I'm used to my lot, who take after the Weasleys." Harry jerked his chin at Lily who was telling Eleanor, Tim and Phillip about each and every thing to be seen on the street. The muggle born children and Phillip's eyes were wide as they made their way through the enchanted wall.

"Mum and Dad would've hated this." remarked Dudley, a little awed.

They walked a little way down the street. At last, Eleanor spoke up, "This is better than...than anything!"

"I have to get a cloak!" declared Phillip as they walked past a shop with a display of them.

Dudley laughed, "Where would you wear it?"

"Well, here, for one." Phillip said, "I feel positively underdressed!" he was actually dressed very smartly. Phillip was clearly not a jeans and t-shirt man, rather linen trousers and a rather expensive looking (though casual), shirt. "Velvet, d'you think?"

"How about blue with yellow stars on the hem!" put in Eleanor, pointing to one.

"Oh, YES!" laughed Phillip, "We'll get a matching one for your Dad, only in yellow with blue stars. Then we could visit Dad's Aunt Marge! "

"You'd get tried for manslaughter, Lawyer-boy." smirked Dudley, "She'd have a stroke on the spot and how would you explain it to the nursing home staff?"

Harry couldn't help it, he caught Dudley's eye and they both started cackling. Harry could just imagine the look on the old harridan's face. It would be the same look she wore when he'd accidently blown her up just before his third year.

It took a few minutes for both Dudley and Harry to calm down. Every time they got their laughing under control, they'd look at each other. Ginny and Phillip didn't help, they kept making comments to each other, "It wasn't that funny."

"Is he often like this?"

"Only when he's been hanging out with my brother too long."

"If you keep it up, we'll have to separate the two of you."

"People will think you're out on a day pass."

"People will think I overdid it on a Cheering charm."

"People already think your drunk."

The trouble was, their comments just added to the hilarity.

The three children looked on in awe at the spectacle of two grown men unable to stop laughing.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Harry and Dudley wiped their eyes. Harry shook his head, "Have you met Aunt Marge, Phillip?"

Phillip's smile turned wry, "Only the once, at Petunia's funeral. She nearly did stroke out when she realized who I was. I think we should pay her a visit and take care of some unfinished business. Finish the job, like."

Harry nodded and returned the wry smile, amazed at how good he felt to be out on an outing with Dudley, of all people.

"So," said Dudley, "Where do we get wands?" clearly trying to get a handle on his not-quite-suppressed giggles.

"Ollivander and Lovegood's" said Harry firmly, "But you need to exchange some money, they don't take pounds."

"They won't take a credit card?" asked Phillip surprised, "I guess we're really not in Kansas anymore."

Lily looked up surprised, "I thought Kansas was in America?"

It took Phillip and Eleanor a few minutes to explain to the Potters what "Not being in Kansas anymore." meant.

Eleanor couldn't believe that wizards didn't watch films, and insisted that Lily "just had to see" about a half a dozen before they started school in the fall. By the time the group was halfway to Gringotts to exchange some pounds for galleons, Lily and Eleanor were deep into plans for a "film night" at Eleanor's.

"You'll have to tell your grandad all about it." laughed Ginny fondly.

"Will the Royal Bank of Wizards or whatever it is have a ATM?" asked Phillip, "Otherwise I'll have to go to the one I saw up the street outside."

Ginny looked confused, but Harry said, "Yes, they've got one. Put it in last year." The Ministry had spent the better part of a decade debating whether to allow the Goblins to install computers to integrate with the muggle financial world. Fortunately for the goblins, enough wizards had holdings in muggle banks, which were all run by computers, that the Ministry had had to allow it, "They'll let you into the room they keep it in, since you won't make it crash."

"Now, that's confusing me," said Dudley, "Eleanor doesn't make the telly or the DVD blow up, just her mobile."

"No, there was also the laptop." Phillip turned to Harry, "Caught fire on her. I got her a new one by threatening to take the buggers to court. To be fair, I thought it was a defective battery at the time."

"I think," said Harry slowly, "It's got to do with how often she uses something and how close she is to it. The bank machine in Gringott's is in a shielded room. If a wizard needs to use it, one of the goblins goes in and does it."

Phillip shivered exaggeratedly, "What, you give them your card and your PIN? I don't think I want to do that..."

"You can use it yourself since you're a muggle." assured Harry.

"Oh, that's all right then." said Phillip relieved.

"Why don't the rest of you go on up to Fortescue's and meet Ron and Hermione?" said Ginny, "I'll take Phillip to the bank and we'll catch up."

"I hope your wife doesn't like shopping as much as Phillip does." Dudley said to Harry, "Or we've lost them for the afternoon."

Lily was explaining to Eleanor and Tim that Fortescue sold amazing ice cream. Tim whispered something to Lily, but it was Eleanor who replied softly, "I'm sure Uncle Harry will let you have one. My Dad wouldn't bring you to stay with anyone who would be mean."

Harry and Dudley exchanged a pained glance, "You've got your work cut out for you with him." Dudley shook his head, "Eleanor was a lot younger when we got her."

"You adopted her? I'd wondered if you had or if one of you had been married previously." said Harry.

"Yes, her mum was a crack addict. We thought she was going to be a special needs kid, but she surprised everyone. I guess it's because she's a witch?"

Harry nodded, "Do you know who her father was?"

Dudley shrugged, "Could have been anyone. Her mum didn't give a name and then she went and gave up the child because she couldn't look after her. So I suppose her biological dad could have been a wizard." Dudley seemed to hesitate a moment, "Eleanor's not going to have any trouble because of who her parents are, is she?"

"Oh, these days Muggle-borns don't have much difficulty. Since the war, there's been a huge change in sentiment about it." Harry shrugged, "And if anyone gives her problems they'll have all the Weasleys and the Potters to answer to."

"That wasn't quite what I meant," Dudley half smiled, "I just wondered if wizard society had trouble with same sex couples."

"Oh. Sorry. Right." Harry blinked, "Never occurred to me." he replied honestly.

"I think you just answered that question." Dudley grinned, slung an arm over Harry's shoulder, "Bloody hell, why did I take so long to find you?"

Harry grinned too.

Tim suddenly stopped. He had seen something in a shop window and he let go of Lily's hand to walk over and touch the glass. He looked fascinated.

Harry was surprised, the shop was not one likely to catch the eye of a seven year old. It wasn't a display of magical toys or sweets, but an apothecary. The window displayed cauldrons, herbs and a collection of brown wrinkled stones.

Harry crouched down next to Tim, making sure not to crowd him, "What do you see?" he asked.

"Mr Potter, if I wanted a bezoar, where could I get one?" Tim asked seriously.

Something about the way the child asked the question made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up, it reminded him of...something...but he couldn't think what, "Why do you want one?" he asked, feeling a thrill of foreboding.

Tim turned to look at him and pointed to the display of bezoars which were labeled "Assorted Bezoars; Cure almost any poison".

"Well, they come from a stomach of a goat." the moment of uncanniness passed. Harry shook off his unease, "But why would you want one?" he repeated.

Tim gave him an appraising look, then whispered, "My mum says she's been poisoned. That's why she needs her medicine. That's why she gets sick with the shakes if she doesn't have it. I thought maybe that could fix her."

Harry sighed, "I'm sorry, but that's not the kind of poison a bezoar can cure." he'd wondered what the boy's mother had told him about her drug habit, "I know the hospital is doing their best to take care of her."

Tim nodded, looking rather resigned.

"You know, you don't have to keep calling me Mr. Potter. You could call me Uncle Harry, if you like." Harry said quietly. The girls were absorbed in their own conversation which Dudley had joined in.

Tim's expression turned hard, making him look much older than seven "I've had 'uncles' Mr. Potter. They were right buggering bastards." Tim stopped and clapped his hand over his mouth, obviously he hadn't meant to say that.

Harry couldn't find it in him to correct Tim on his language, "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught that last bit." he winked at Tim, "I had a not-so-great uncle, come to think of it. Do you think you could manage just 'Harry'?"

Tim's mouth curved upward in a smile behind his hand. He nodded, a little sheepishly.

"Do you want to visit your mum? Once she's feeling better?" Harry asked carefully. This had been something they'd talked over with the healers, the official position of both Muggle and Wizard Child Services was family reunification. However, unless Tim's mum was completely off the heroine, it was unlikely that she'd ever get custody of Tim back, but visitation (assuming both of them wanted it) was encouraged.

Tim just shrugged, "I don't know if she wants to see me. She..." he trailed off, turning red and swallowing hard, "Never mind."

Harry nodded, he didn't like to give the child empty reassurances. He remembered all too well how it had felt to get his own hopes up as a child, only to have them dashed, "Okay. We'll talk later." He stood up and offered Tim his hand, "What kind of ice cream do you like?"

"Um. Chocolate?" Tim tentatively took Harry's hand as they went to join Dudley and the girls.

"Okay, I think we can manage that." smiled Harry, grateful for such an easy distraction. He made a mental note to ask Hermione if she'd heard anything about the boy's mother, since she officially had his case. In the muggle world, it would be a conflict of interest he supposed, but there were only three witches in the whole Ministry who handled muggle-born children.

"All right?" asked Dudley as they joined he and the girls again. Harry grinned at himself, it was amazing how quickly Eleanor and Lily had bonded, becoming "the girls".

"We're fine." said Harry.

Dudley rolled his eyes, "That good, eh?" he shook his head, sighed, "Nice to hear you both have a heartbeat."

Before Harry could reply he heard someone calling him across the street. Hermione, Ron and their youngest, Hugo were sitting outside of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

"Harry! Dudley! Over here!" called Hermione, waving.

Lily took Eleanor's hand, and pulled her along "That's Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione!" she told her, "And Cousin Hugo. Come on."

"Hello, Lily!" said Ron, "Is this our just-discovered cousin then?" Eleanor nodded uncertainly.

"Ms. Granger, it's good to see you again." said Dudley, coming up behind the girls. Harry hung back a little with Tim.

Hermione laughed, "I only go by Granger in the Muggle world. It's Mrs. Weasley in the Wizarding world. And Hermione to you. This is Ron and that's Hugo." She indicated them and they smiled. Harry didn't miss the skeptical look Ron gave Dudley, the one time he'd met Dudley hadn't gone well.

"So where's Ginny?" asked Ron.

"Off with Dudley's partner." said Harry, "Changing money."

"Hopefully, Phillip won't spend all afternoon gawping at the shops." said Dudley pulling up a chair.

The girls both sat, as did Harry, but Tim didn't seem to know what to do until Harry pulled an empty chair over by him. Tim sat quietly, looking around.

Fortescue came out to take their order when he saw them sit down. After a bit of dithering, Eleanor decided to try the pumpkin flavor, Dudley stuck with vanilla, "Papa's going to get here and want to try the ice mice, you watch." remarked Dudley to Eleanor who giggled, "Phillip's the adventurous one." Dudley went on to explain to the other adults. "I'd never so much as eaten a Chinese dinner before I met him."

"Why does that not surprise me?" commented Harry, amused, handing over the dish of chocolate ice cream to Tim.

Eleanor turned to look at Dudley, "But your parents must have brought Uncle Harry here when he got his letter!" she exclaimed.

Dudley and Harry exchanged glances.

"Well, your grandparents didn't like magic. My dad went a bit mad when Harry's letter came. Dragged us halfway across the country to avoid them." Dudley said.

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Oh, I know I've told you this, Ron." sighed Harry, "Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated anything that wasn't normal."

Dudley nodded, "You should have seen the day I came out to them. You remember how Dad was when you got your letters? He was just like that. Going on about how it wasn't enough that he'd had to put up with one freak in the family." Dudley shrugged, "And Mum there wailing that Harry had cursed me."

"No way." said Ron, "Where'd she get the idea that was even possible?"

Dudley shrugged again, "No idea."

"Thanks for waiting to break it to them until I was gone." said Harry shuddering, "That would have gone really badly."

Dudley snorted in agreement.

There was a momentary silence until Ginny and Phillip came strolling up. Greetings were exchanged between the adults. Hugo pulled his chair over closer to the girls and Lily urged Eleanor to tell him all about there plans to see films at Eleanor's.

Harry sensed that Tim was feeling a little overwhelmed. He had actually scooted his chair a little closer to Harry.

"All right?" he asked the boy.

"Fine." Tim whispered back. Harry was beginning to see what Dudley meant about that word.

"Let's head over to Ollivander and Lovegood's and get this lot set up with wands." said Harry to Ginny who was sitting on his other side now, "I think Tim here is starting to flag a bit. If you like, after that, I'll take him home and you can stay out with Lily."

"You sure?" asked Ginny, "I could take him home." then she saw how Tim had moved closer to Harry. He had even taken hold of Harry's robe. Ginny smiled, "All right, sounds like a good idea."

"James Sirius Potter," Harry hissed, "What do you think you're playing at? "

James started violently. The study had been dark until Harry, who was sitting at his desk, lit his wand.

James had crept in trying to replace Harry's broom. Rather than the front door opening and shutting, Harry had heard the drawing room window slide open, and then stealthy footsteps. Harry mused that he needed to replace that ward since James must have disabled it sneaking out. It was likely that James had been sneaking out that way all summer. What was maddening was that the boy hadn't necessarily needed to sneak, but he did love to take risks.

Clearly James believed that, once again, he'd made it back without being caught.

The broom itself would have given the boy away, however. It was obvious had been through a bit of rough handling, there were missing chunks of straw and scratches on the handle that hadn't been there the night before. The boy's own appearance also was evidence of his misadventure, although no doubt he had assumed he could clean up his black eye and lacerations himself without anyone being the wiser.

"Dad! You're back...I...er- thought you and Mum were still at the...I mean..." James trailed off under his father's unusually fierce gaze.

"We do have a house elf, you know." said Harry silkily, "And I do ward my possessions. However skilled you've become at disabling the household wards, you forgot to disable the anti-theft charm. When the alarm goes off, it also says who's taken it." James stared at Harry in horror. Harry leaned forward and said, very softly, "So explain to me, what were you doing?"

Harry had had some time to sit in his study and fume after Kreacher had told him that his oldest son had "borrowed" his broom.

It would have done no good to go out and look for the boy; the broom was custom made for Harry and his work as an Auror. It was the newest 'Lightning Bolt' model, modified with spells of concealment and stealth, as well as a few other charms that Harry himself had created. It was frighteningly fast. Fast and, in the hands of an inexperienced youth, very dangerous.

Harry's heart had stopped about half a dozen times that night as he kept thinking he'd heard an owl peck at the window. Finally he'd just opened it, waiting to get the owl that James was in St. Mungo's after crashing or in Ministry custody after being seen by muggles. Or perhaps both. Now the boy had the audacity to appear relatively unscathed. Harry's paternal fear changed immediately to anger.

He took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to put the boy into a body bind curse and stick him to his bed for the remainder of the holidays.

"You could have been seen. You could have been killed." Harry stood and leaned over his desk, "What the HELL were you thinking?"

James quailed, but his chin came up a little, "I wouldn't have been seen. It's got all those..." he broke off eye contact, his brown eyes dropping to the floor, and then coming back up, "I just took it out for a little spin." he said with false bravado, "Nothing happened."

"NOTHING HAPPENED?" roared Harry, "YOU CALL THIS NOTHING?" crossing the room in two steps, he snatched the scratched broom in one hand and James' torn cloak in the other, "YOU BLOODY WELL CRASHED MY BROOM!" Harry had seen the boy arrive in the darkened courtyard, taking a header off the broom because he wasn't accustomed to it's breaking speed. It was probably not the only spill the boy had taken that night if the state of his clothes were any indication.

"N-no, it was just a tumble...Really...It'll clean right up." James paled, looking terrified.

Harry turned away, getting hold of himself. It wasn't the broom, at all, that made him so angry but the way that James was so convinced of his own immortality.

"You are very lucky it's the holidays." Harry said quietly, "Minerva McGonagol would ban you from Quidditch forever, for this kind of stunt." he turned back to the boy, "Perhaps I should owl her in the morning and tell her that I don't want you playing next term."

"No! Dad! You can't!"

"Can't I?" Harry said coldly, "Keep pushing me and you won't be going back to Hogwarts at all."

Whatever James was going to say died on his lips as he looked at his father.

"Get out." said Harry, harshly, "Your mother's downstairs. Get her to fix that eye and whatever else you damaged." Harry was hanging onto his temper with finger and toenails. He never been so tempted to just thrash one of his children. He wanted James out of his sight before he said anything he'd regret.

The boy didn't need to be told twice, although his mother was undoubtedly waiting to hand him his head on a platter.

Harry noxed his wand, sat wearily down at his desk.

In the shadowed corner of the room, he heard someone laughing.

"Who's there?" Harry lit his wand again.

In the corner stood Severus Snape, leaning casually against the wall.

Laughing.

At Harry.

"Hang on..." said Harry, "I'm dreaming again..."

"Yes." said Snape, looking amused. He definitely looked younger than Harry had ever seen him. This time, his teaching robes were newer too, "Was that an accurate memory, or did your mind embroider it?" he came into the center of the room, conjured a chair for himself. As a seeming afterthought, he conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses, which he filled.

"It was pretty accurate." Harry admitted, taking the glass from Snape. He'd wanted to kill James that night. He had taken away James' own broom and he had prevented James from playing Quidditch until Christmas break last year. James had been beside himself with the unfairness of it all, and wouldn't talk to his parents for weeks.

Harry had second guessed himself about being too harsh, but then he'd remember the way his stomach had dropped when James had come off his broom and that strengthened his resolve.

This wasn't the first time Harry had dreamt about that night. He'd had quite a few nightmares of what didn't happen that night.

"Well, well, I'm impressed Potter," smirked Snape, "I expected you, as a father, to channel Black or Lupin, perhaps even Dumbledore. Certainly not myself."

Harry snorted, "Only when they try to get themselves killed." Harry's answer was meant to be flippant, but Snape's black eyes caught his. Harry had the feeling that his head was being rifled through again, memories unbidden rose to the surface of his mind. All of them too fast to really focus on.

This time though, Snape was not intruding into the mind of a fifteen year old boy. The dream-Snape was no match for the fully trained Auror. Harry, with a rush of anger, shoved Snape out.

"Get out of my head. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" demanded Harry.

Maddeningly Snape shrugged, unconcerned, "I told you once, I have no idea how your mind works. It's obvious that you feel there is something to be gained from reliving this night."

One of the memories Snape had called to the surface seemed to burst into full bloom.

"You were seen...If I was your Head of House...You damaged a very valuable tree...I don't have the power to expel you, but..."

In the memory, Snape told Harry and Ron off for stealing Mr. Weasley's car in almost the same words and tone Harry had used on James.

Harry took another drink of his non-existent firewhiskey, wondering if dreaming about getting drunk could give you a hangover.

Snape looked grave, "I wish my life had been different." he said.

Harry nodded, "And me. I wish things could have been different between us."

"It wasn't just that you looked like your father, you know." Snape said quietly, "It was that you could have been mine. If I hadn't been such a fool. Lily saw where it all was going. Where I was going...It wasn't just using...that word...to her. It was everything I was doing. I looked at you and I saw my own weakness. I was determined that you would not be weak.

Another unbidden memory;

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed."

Only this time, Harry heard the exhortations underneath the insult, "Figure it out, damn you. It will save your life. "

"You did your best. We all did." Harry noticed his whiskey was empty, he held it out for more.

Snape refilled it, "Are you so damned eager to forgive, Potter? Do you think I need it?" he sneered.

"No. You don't need forgiveness from me."

"No, Potter. Not from you." agreed Snape.

They were silent for a while.

"You have been very good to the little boy." said Snape, "He needs that."

"Why are you so interested in Tim?" asked Harry, curiously.

"Perhaps I'm the voice of your own parental reason." Snape sighed, "Or maybe I have a personal interest. It's even possible I've come trying to prevent the rise of another Dark Lord. The boy's magic is very strong. Growing up in a state of deprivation is what created the Dark Lord after all."

"Rubbish." said Harry flatly, "Voldemort did what he did because he was a twisted evil bastard who wanted power above all else."

"Yes, but why did he desire power?"

"Come on Snape, the same could be said about us." Harry was sure now that the dream-Snape was the voice of his own subconscious. This was an argument he'd had in his head when he was awake.

"Us?" Snape asked.

"You. Me. Sirius. Hermione..."

Snape looked at him sharply, "What was wrong with Miss Granger's homelife?"

"Her parents were a pair of drunks." Harry gazed into his glass, "I didn't know until after we'd left school of course, but you have to reckon that her crazy perfectionist streak had to come from somewhere. And why else would she be so tolerant of wandering the countryside with me? Not to mention sending her parents to Australia. I mean, it wasn't like they were the Dursleys or anything, but she had her share of issues."

"Hmm." grunted Snape, "All the same...Thank you."

"You look tired, love." Ginny said when Harry finally dragged himself out of bed Sunday morning. She handed him a cup of tea and kissed him on the cheek. Tim and Lily were already at the breakfast table tucking into Kreacher's excellent pancakes.

Harry noted with approval that Tim appeared to have something resembling an appetite this morning, he also noticed a couple pancakes making their way into a napkin. To be consumed later, no doubt. "Yeah, I slept badly," Harry said to Ginny, "Dreamed about Snape again, of all things."

Ginny looked at him sharply, "A bad one? You should have woke me up."

Harry shook his head, "Not one of those," he smiled a little, "No, I was having a drink with him, if you can believe that." That's all Harry could really remember of the dream. And perhaps something about the incident with James taking Harry's broom.

"Drinking with Snape?" Ginny laughed, "That's funny."

"Who's Snape?" asked Lily.

"One of our teachers at Hogwarts. He was headmaster too, during the War." said Ginny.

"Was he a good teacher?" asked Lily.

"Depends on what you mean by 'good'." Harry smiled, "He knew his subject like nobody else, but he was really tough. And during the War..." Harry trailed off. It wasn't a story he told his children.

"During the War, he was a spy for our side." said Ginny, "He was headmaster after the Ministry fell. Things would have been a lot worse if he hadn't been there."

"Y'know, Ginny, I think you and Minerva should write that book you've been talking about." Harry picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet that lay on the table, took his seat to read it.

"So any thoughts on what to do today?" asked Ginny, of the room in general.

"I'm happy just staying close to home." said Harry.

"We could go visit the Burrow." said Lily, hopefully.

Harry looked at Tim over his paper, the little boy looked up, opened his mouth, closed it. Looked down again.

"Yes, Tim?" asked Harry, "Is there something you wanted to do?" it would be a good sign if Tim actually asked for something.

"Me and Mum used to visit my Nana on Sundays." the boy said quietly.

"Your Nana?" Ginny glanced at Harry, this was the first they'd heard about the boy having relatives other than his mother, "Where does she live, then?"

Tim's face turned rather red, "Well, she doesn't live anywhere, anymore. I used to live with her, but Mum said she went to heaven and we went to visit her where they left the rest of her."

The penny dropped, "Oh. You visit her grave?" asked Harry, gently.

Tim nodded, looking at the table again.

"Do you know where?" asked Harry.

"I know what bus we take and where we get off." Tim shrugged.

"Well, that's a start." said Harry brightly, "Would you like to go today?"

"Mr.-I mean...Harry?" Tim looked up now, "You-you want to go?"

Harry asked Ginny, "You and Lily want to go to the Burrow and I'll take Tim?"

Ginny nodded, "That sounds lovely."

It wasn't much later when Harry and Tim set out. Harry decided after some thought that the simplest way to find where they were going was to apparate to Tim's old house and start from there,

"Tim?" Harry knelt down on one knee, "We need to apparate. I'll need to carry you." Tim hadn't let either Ginny or Harry hug him since he'd been there, so Harry preferred to tell Tim these things

"Okay." Tim shrugged.

Harry gathered the boy up in his arms, noting as he did so that the boy was far too light for his age. He sighed and walked out the door with Tim in his arms.

"Okay, this is a bit strange." He told Tim, "So hold onto my neck and close your eyes." Tim did so.

After the terrible minute of dark suspension, they appeared in the alley in back of a row of houses. Tim was strangling Harry and very near hyperventilating. Harry loosened the boy's hold gently, "It's all right, we're there." he soothed.

"Bloody hell." the boy gasped.

Harry just smiled to himself, pretending he didn't hear. Eventually he would have to say something about the boy's language, but it was a pick your battles type of thing. At the moment he was just pleased that the child was speaking to people.

"You want to get down?" Harry asked.

Tim nodded, he was shaking a bit.

They walked out to the street. It had been more than twenty years since Harry had taken a bus anywhere. Well, unless one counted the Knight Bus. It wasn't any different. It did feel a bit strange to be following Tim's directions, Ginny hadn't been at all sure that Tim would really be able to get them there. She had pointed out to him that their children wouldn't have been able to do that when they were seven.

"They didn't have to." said Harry, "You'd be surprised what the kids can do when they have to."

Ginny had just sighed, "I suppose you'd know." she said.

Harry was a little concerned that going to Tim's old neighborhood would upset him, but the child had that strangely composed air about him. Except for the night they'd taken him into care, Harry hadn't seen Tim cry.

Harry didn't mistake it for lack of feeling, however. He'd overheard his teachers before he went to Hogwarts referring to him as "self contained" and "mature". He thought he remembered his primary school nurse referring to it as "shut down".

There was a woman who had obviously had some suspicions about his home life. Once every term she had taken him into her office for a chat, sometimes on the thinnest of pretenses. In hindsight, he realized that the woman had been trying to get him to say something actionable against the Dursleys. He supposed the abuse he'd sustained would have been more obvious if he'd been a muggle child-the bruises and injuries Petunia and Vernon caused him were usually gone by the next day.

They had been on the bus for about thirty minutes. Neither of them spoke, Tim seemed to be counting the stops and Harry didn't like to inturrupt him. Harry reckoned that if this turned into a snorecack hunt, it wasn't a problem, they'd just apparate back home.

Tim reached up to pull the cable to signal for a stop.

Harry followed him as the boy walked purposefully down the street, stopping at a small church, walking around the back. There was a small, neatly kept cemetery. Harry paused for a second, "Did you want some flowers to take?" he asked.

Tim looked up at him, then down at his feet "Mum said that was stupid. She said she had better things to spend money on than flowers."

Harry wondered if Tim thought it was a trick question. He reworded it, "What kind of flowers would you like to take?"

"I like lilies." the boy said to his feet.

Harry glanced around, then pulled his wand out and produced a bouquet of white lilies out of the air. He remembered the wreathe of Christmas roses Hermione had produced to put on his parent's grave, that long ago night. He always took them roses now.

Tim's eyes were as big as saucers as he took the bunch from Harry. He didn't thank Harry, except with his eyes, and he turned away with a sniff before Harry could see his eyes overflow. Harry pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, tapped the boy on the shoulder with it. He took it without a word.

Tim knew exactly where he was going. A small grey stone with the words "Agnes Dawson", all the way at the back, surrounded by weeds. It didn't even have a date. Not quite a pauper's grave, but Harry thought it came close.

"Hi Nana," Tim said, he put the flowers down by the headstone, "Sorry we didn't come last week...or the week before. Mum's been sick. She's in hospital and I'm staying with some people. Mr. Potter was nice and brought me here. He said I should call him Harry, Nana, but..."

Harry moved off to sit on a stone bench where he could see the child, and Tim could see him, but far enough away that Tim had some privacy, "Tim?" he called, "I'm over here."

Tim looked and waved to show he'd heard and went back to having his once sided conversation. Harry settled himself down to enjoy the sunshine while he kept an eye on the boy.

An elderly man with a cane came walking up the path. He wore a shapeless sort of grey sweater that elderly muggle men seemed to adopt, "Tim?" he called, "Where's your Mum, lad? Did you come out here by yourself, again?"

Tim turned, his face transformed by the first genuine smile Harry had seen on it.

"Mr Clark!" called Tim, "No, I'm not on my own. Mum's in the hospital!"

Harry stood, "I brought him. He said he liked to visit his Nana's grave, sometimes."

The man looked Harry up and down suspiciously, "So you'd be one of Mary's- er- friend's then?"

"No, I'm Tim's foster father, Harry." he extended his hand politely. Given that the man seemed known to Tim, he hoped that he would be able to fill in some of the gaps about Tim's life prior to being taken into care.

The light dawned in the old man's eyes, "Foster father? So Mary's problem got away from her again?"

Harry nodded, "Did you know Tim's grandmother?"

"Oh, aye." Mr. Clark said shaking Harry's hand, "We grew up together. Agnes had Tim since he was two, right up to last year."

"Because of Mary's problem?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, we never knew who the boy's dad was. When Mary got bad, she'd disappear for days. But then she'd clean herself up and come back take the poor thing with her and try to be a mum. Agnes always wanted her to try. Then Agnes got sick and Mary had to take him full time. Then when Agnes died...Well, Mary just cleared off with him. I still see them when they visit, like. My wife's buried here, you see."

"Mr. Potter gave me lillies to give to Nana, Mr. Clark." the boy said proudly.

"Did he? That's lovely." the man smiled, then looked at Harry with an arrested expression, "Did you say Harry Potter?"

"Yes, sir." said Tim, looking confused.

Mr Clark looked gobsmacked at Harry, "The Harry Potter? The wizard?"

A little wearily, Harry nodded and smiled, "I take it you're a wizard?"

The man shook his head, "Naw, my wife," he pointed his stick toward a tidier looking grave, "She was a witch, God rest her."

"Oh." said Harry, "So you knew about..."

"The War, aye. It was practically on our doorstep. We had to go to Canada, what with me being a muggle and her being muggle-born." he said, "She didn't want to go, but our oldest wasn't a wizard either and he'd gone to Vancouver in the eighties. He'd always been after us to come visit. Well, when people started talking about the Dark Mark and blood status and I don't know what else, we took him up on it."

Tim looked as though he was trying to follow, but failing, "What war? The one in Iraq that they talk about on telly?"

Mr Clark looked down at Tim, "No, son. This was a secret War. A Wizard War. Mr. Potter here's a war hero."

"Really?" squeaked Tim, sounding impressed.

"Now, do you two have time for a cuppa tea?" Mr Clark asked, "If you've paid your repects to Agnes that is."

"That sounds great Mr. Clark." Harry thought this would be a real chance for him to find out more about Tim's family and circumstances. Neither Wizarding or Muggle Children's Services had much detail on the boy, "Hold on a minute." Harry glanced around, checking for anyone watching, then waved his wand a few times. First getting rid of the weeds.

Then, with due care, he carved into Agnes' grave stone "Loving Grandmother of Tim."

Harry and Tim followed Mr. Clark up the street, he let them into a small, well kept garden. In the kitchen was a huge, old fashioned coal stove. Mr Clark poured water into a little electric kettle for tea.

"You two have a seat there, I won't be a minute."

"Mr. Clark?" asked Tim softly, "May I go feed your fish?"

The old man smiled, "Aye, you go on, then." he looked at Harry as the little boy took a box off the window shelf and let himself out his back door, "I've got a pond full of goldfish out back. You don't mind do you? It's no more than a little garden pond, he can't do more than get wet if he falls in."

Harry smiled, "It's fine." he did position his chair so he could look out the back window and see the boy.

Mr. Clark smiled, "You got other children, then?"

"Yes, three. The two oldest are at school, at the moment." Harry said.

"Good of you to take another one in." Mr. Clark finished plugging in the kettle and put the tea bags in the tea pot, "So, I'm thinking Tim must be a wizard if they put him with a wizard family?"

Harry nodded.

"Aye, I was thinking that boy was a little odd." Mr Clark hesitated, then shrugged, "Well, odd in ways that his mother's problems didn't explain. If my wife had been alive, she probably would've told Agnes, but I didn't know how to go about it. And poor Agnes had enough trouble on her plate."

"Tim's family is all muggle, then?" Harry asked.

"Mmm, Tim's dad could have been a wizard. Mary used to tell outlandish stories about him, but with someone like her-Well, it's hard to tell what's true and what she's making up."

Harry nodded again, keeping one eye on the little boy out by the garden pond. Tim was crouched down next to it, tossing bits of fish food from his box.

"So, what do you know of Tim's life?" asked Harry, he switched into his professional "witness questioning mode".

"Oh, it's not been easy, Mr. Potter." the man looked at him sadly, "Mary was never quite right you understand...Especially not after...well..." he shook his head.

"Since she got into drugs?" Harry prompted, gently.

"Yeah, that's a bad business, that is. I think something dreadful must have happened to her. Agnes used to hint that Tim's father was...not the best sort. I mean Mary was a little wild, but then she disappeared for three years with this bloke and Agnes never heard from her. Then she reappears with the little'un and drops him in Agnes' lap."

"When was the last time you heard about Tim's dad?" asked Harry. He rather hoped the man wouldn't make himself known. If Tim's father were a wizard, and in any way respectable, it could complicate Tim's placement. Harry realized suddenly that it wouldn't be easy for him to give the child up.

"Oh, I wouldn't call him a dad." sneered Mr. Clark.

The tone was so unlike what Harry had heard from the kindly old man thus far that Harry turned all his attention to him.

"A dad would've made sure the poor little thing had food in his tummy and a roof over his head. When Mary got here, she said she'd been living in a squat and the boy's father wouldn't give her any money to take care of him. Agnes took them both in, but the girl ran off and left Tim after a week." He sighed, poured the kettle, "Wish she'd stayed away, to be honest. Every time she came back, there was a new disaster."

Mr Clark looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, " 'Course some of that might a' been the boy's magic showing itself. Mary always had trouble leaving Agnes' house with Tim. There was one time when the taxi Mary had ordered blew up on the curb."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but from the back garden there came the sound of Tim screaming, a crack and then silence. Harry was much quicker than Mr. Clark, leaping out the back door and berating himself for taking his eyes off the child for even a second.

The boy was gone from the garden and Harry's stomach dropped. The crack had sounded like a disapparition

"Mr. Potter? Where's he gone?"

"Shh." said Harry, looking around wildly and listening for any sound of the boy. Rather than a child's sob, Harry heard an angry, frightened hiss and located a small grass snake gliding away in fear.

"Wait," Harry had often found snakes to be useful witnesses, he spoke in Parseltongue to it, "What's got you frightened, little snake?"

"The small one's noises." the snake paused to look at Harry, "Those noises mean bad things for our kind. Big ones come with clubs to kill us."

Harry could believe that, "Do you know where the small one went?"

A snake can't shrug, but this one's tone sounded like one, "He's playing bird."

Playing bird?

Harry looked up, turned around, slowly scanning the treetops and roof. There, crouched next to the chimney was Tim, petrified and silent with fear.

Harry smiled with relief, "I see him."

Mr. Clark followed Harry's gaze. After a shocked second he chuckled, unsteadily, "Meredith used to do that. Be in one place, then another. Do you need help getting him down? I've got a ladder."

"No. I'll get him."

"You can't just pop up beside him. You'll frighten him to death." Mr. Clark objected.

Looking at Tim's face, Harry saw the sense in that. Tim's eyes were glazed and he was trembling so violently that it was visible even from this distance.

"I'll get the ladder." Mr. Clark said firmly, walking to the garden shed. He brought it out and had it leaning against the house in just a few minutes.

Harry kept his eye on Tim, "All right, there?" he called.

No answer. Harry wasn't really expecting one.

Harry was glad he had opted for jeans and sweatshirt today, rather than something more formal as he climbed up the ladder.

Tim studied his face as Harry climbed up beside him. Harry did his best to look reassuring.

Tim put his hands over his face just as Harry reached him. The boy's trembling hadn't stilled and Harry could hear him sucking in his breath sharply. Rather than risk panicking the boy more, Harry crawled up beside the boy and sat down next to him.

Tim looked at Harry through his hands, "Nice up here." said Harry conversationally, "I think you must have accidentally apparated yourself. I did that once, when I was little. I was really, really scared though." Harry glanced at Mr. Clark's garden, gave the old man a wave.

"Did something scare you?" asked Harry. He hoped the boy wasn't also afraid of heights, although that could be the reason for the hands over his face.

"I hate snakes." whispered Tim, the trembling got worse and Harry was almost afraid the child would shake himself right off the roof.

"The grass snake frightened you?" Harry asked

Tim nodded.

"Well I can ask it to go and not come back until we're gone if you like." Harry said, "Can I get you down off here?"

Tim shook his head.

Harry sighed, that's what he got for asking the question, "Well, can you climb down the ladder yourself? Do you have trouble with high places?"

"Is the snake gone?" Tim asked.

"Yes. She was just as frightened of you, you know." Harry assured him.

Tim didn't answer. After a long time, his shaking eased. Harry just sat there with him. Then he very slowly moved across the roof. Very, very slowly he climbed down.

Mr. Clark was there at the bottom and Tim wrapped his arms around the old man's waist. Mr Clark, knelt down to return the boy's embrace. Tim said something to the man who smiled at Harry as he said, "I don't think Mr Potter minds at all, Tim."

Harry climbed down rather more quickly and helped Mr. Clark put the ladder away and then they returned to the house for their tea. Mr. Clark pulled out a large box of biscuits that were the same one's Harry had in his house.

Tim took a seat on the floor next to Mr Clark, leaning his head against the old man's leg. Mr. Clark poured him some tea and handed him biscuits. Tim drank his tea quietly, then set it down next to him.

"Seems like you have some experience getting little boys off roofs, Mr. Potter." said Mr Clark genially.

"Please, call me Harry," said Harry, "And yes, all mine seem to find themselves on top of the roof at some point. I think it must be a trait of all wizard children, to be honest."

"See there," Mr Clark said to Tim, "I told you he wouldn't mind."

Tim's eyes were closed. He had fallen asleep against Mr. Clark's leg.

"Poor thing. Wore out by that scare." said Mr. Clark.

"He seems very fond of you." said Harry, thinking that Tim looked very cute as he slept.

"Why don't you put him on the setee for a bit?" Mr Clark suggested, "You going home by bus or are you magicking yourselves there?"

"Oh, I'll apparate us home." said Harry, lifting the boy up to put him in the living room as Mr. Clark suggested.

Harry made good use of his time with Mr. Clark. The old man had enough information that Harry could probably trace Tim's mother's criminal file's and perhaps Hermione could find the woman's psychiatric files. According to Mr. Clark, Mary had been both in jail and the "loony bin", although he might have meant drug rehab.

Some of the outlandish stories he remembered Mary telling, could have been due to a wizard who wanted to keep his identity secret, or it could have been the rantings of a crazy woman.

If Tim's father was a wizard, Harry realized that the man would hardly be likely to be able to claim the child going by the description of the situation. Harry thought he ought to find out if Agnes Dawson had been collecting family allowance for Tim. One of their problems running down Tim's information was that Mary had given several false names for herself and Tim.

"You've been really helpful, Mr. Clark." said Harry at last, "Could you do me one last favor? Would it be all right if I brought Tim to visit sometimes?"

Mr. Clark's face was wreathed in smiles, "Oh, aye, Harry." he beamed, "You and Tim are always welcome. Bring your other kids too, I love the company."

Harry liked the way Mr. Clark said Harry's "other children", realizing that already he felt the boy as much his own as Al or James or Lily.

"C'mon, Tim." Harry shook him a little.

Tim looked up at him sleepily, "M-Mr. Potter?"

"Can you try "Harry"?" Harry sighed, "Anyway, it's almost dinner time. Auntie Ginny's waiting for us."

Tim rubbed his eyes, gave Harry a tiny smile, and promptly fell back to sleep.

Mr. Clark gave him an amused look.

Harry just chuckled, knowing the accidental magic wore the boy out more than the fright had. It was quite possible that the child would sleep through to the morning. Harry picked him up, settled him comfortably on his shoulder and disapparated right out of Mr. Clark's living room.

"Going to lunch, or are you eating at your desk today?" Ron asked Harry from the doorway of the record's room. Harry was filling out several forms that were required to request reports from muggle law enforcement.

"If you give me a minute," Harry, "I'll come with you. I'm taking the afternoon off though, we've got a case conference with Hermione and the mindhealer about Tim.

Ron nodded, "I think Hermione said something about it this morning."

Harry finished his forms and with a flick of his wand, sent them off down the hall to the Muggle Liason Office, "All right. Let's go."

"Meeting your cousin was a real surprise. I didn't expect him to be quite so..." Ron trailed off looking for a word.

"Human?" Harry said sardonically, "Me neither. I feel like my life's been sort of turned upside down in the last week. Between Dudley and Tim..." Harry shrugged, "Brings up a lot of old stuff."

"I suppose." Ron shook his head, "How is Tim?"

"Tense, frightened, quiet. He's settled down a bit. Actually slept through the night last night." Harry paused, smiled fondly, "Of course, apparating to a roof top takes it out of you."

"He alright? Didn't splinch anything?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, he just scared himself." Harry replied. Ron and Harry headed out to the street, "Ginny took him to school this morning with Lily." while many wizard children were privately tutored in their early years, Harry's children had attended a school set up for wizard children, organized along the lines of a muggle primary school, "Ginny owled me this morning, she said it went well when she dropped him off."

"So are you still planning on that leave you keep saying you're going to take?" asked Ron, "Seems like a good time."

"That's what Ginny said."

At promptly two o'clock Harry met Ginny outside of the Office of Wizard Child Protection. Harry held the door so Ginny could go through first and she playfully swatted his hand as she always did.

Hermione and one of the mindhealers from St Mungo's was there. Hermione was reading a parchment that seemed to have just arrived. Harry didn't like the way she was biting her lip. Apparently neither did Ginny, because she said quietly, "Is that about Tim?"

Hermione looked up, her face an impassive, professional mask, "Not out here." she said shortly, indicating the public front office. She was right, it would be just their luck if some snoop from the Prophet was hanging about. Harry and Ginny didn't often make the paper anymore, but still.

Hermione ushered them all into the case conference room. Once inside, she handed the parchment to the healer and, to Harry and Ginny's surprise, augmented the room's own privacy spell with several of her own, including a muffliato aimed at the door.

"Hermione, what..?" Ginny started.

"Harry," said Hermione sitting herself, and indicating chairs for Harry and Ginny, "This might actually turn into a case for the Auror's Office." she said very seriously.

"Sorry?" said Harry, mystified.

"Penny sent over an observation report from this morning, and it's...highly disturbing." said Hermione, "Can you tell me what Tim's told you of his life with his mother?"

Ginny sighed, "He won't talk about it to me. Just says his mum's ill sometimes."

"Any mention of his father?"

"No," replied Harry, "The family friend I met yesterday said he'd never seen the man. Apparently, the grandmother thought he was trouble."

"And he's very distrustful of men?"

Harry nodded, "He's okay if I let him make all the first moves. I still can't get him to call me anything but Mr. Potter. It seems safer to him somehow. As if the formality keeps me at a safe distance. And if he thinks I'm angry, he either cowers or shuts down completely."

"This report certainly explains a lot of the child's behavior." the healer said, darkly, "And the failure-to-thrive. I'll have to set up a treatment plan. I haven't seen this kind of thing since the War."

That wasn't good.

The healer handed Ginny the parchment, "This is the observation report from Penny over at the school," the healer said. Harry scooted closer to Ginny so he could read it at the same time.

Tim Dawson, Age 7

Tim is a muggle born child, in the bottom 3rd percentile for growth according to the healer's report. No current evidence of physical abuse was present per healers report, but physical neglect was apparent in terms of nutrition and socialization.

Current Foster Parents are Harry and Ginny Potter.

On first arrival, Tim had little trouble separating from his current foster mother, Ginny Potter. His affect is somewhat flat, consistent with reports we have received from WCS worker Hermione Granger. He appears very attatched to his foster sister Lily Potter, age 10 3/4. It is apparent that Lily has taken on the role of protector for Tim and he has accepted this.

After morning meeting, when the children were broken up into their age groups for lessons, Tim was quite resistant to being separated from Lily. He became quite distressed, and while he showed no outward behaviors, several glass jars in the room cracked due to accidental magic. Lily was very helpful as she suggested that we show Tim her classroom so that he would know where she was. She stated that Tim had told her that he was afraid of people disappearing and not returning for him.

I walked Tim and Lily to Liy's classrom and explained to the teacher that I might need to interrupt class should Tim become distressed. This appeared to satisfy the boy.

I took Tim to the testing room to evaluate his academic level. He appears to have a reading and language level above the standard for his grade, although there are gaps in his learning, indicating inconsistent school attendence. See attached academic report.

After the academic tests were concluded, I indicated to Tim that I needed to fill out some paperwork and that he should feel free to explore the toys in the testing room until lunchtime. It was several minutes before he actually did so. He seemed reluctant to explore on his own.

His play was very stilted as I feel he suspected that he was, in fact, being observed, but after a few minutes he became engrossed with playing with the set of moving figures and the castle. His play with the figures involved fairly age appropriate scenarios until he found a black robed wizard. He turned the wizard onto one of the witch figures and said "Crucio".

I was unsure I had heard him correctly, so I continued to observe his play. Several times he repeated this incantation. Once I was sure that I had heard correctly, I asked Tim where he had heard the word. He stated, "My Dad used it on my Mum sometimes."

I asked further about whether wand use was invovled. Tim was able to describe to me the wand movement in vague terms and repeated that the incantation was indeed "Crucio"

I asked him why his father did this, Tim was very matter of fact, stating, "Sometimes she does things wrong. He does it to me when I'm bad too."

The report continued on the rest of the parchment, but neither Ginny nor Harry could bear to read further.

It was clear from Penny's handwriting that she was shaken by the encounter. Ginny turned to Harry with her hand over her mouth. Ginny looked like Harry felt, white faced, and ready to be sick.

"It looks like we don't need to worry about the boy's father coming forward." said Harry in a flat, detached voice. "You'd better send this over to the office. Someone else needs to investigate it. I'll kill him if I catch him. I won't do Tim any good if I go to Azkaban." Harry had a terrible sense of deja vu, thinking of Sirius going off half cocked, chasing down Pettigrew, rather than going to Dumbledore with the knowledge he had.

"So, what now?" asked Ginny, getting a grip on herself.

"Well," said Hermione, in a brisk businesslike voice that Harry knew hid her own agitation, "We need to know if your willing to make a long term comittment with Tim, as it does appear that family reunification is out of the question."

"Out of the question?" asked Ginny, "I thought his mother was in some sort of muggle treatment?"

The healer and Hermione glanced at each other, "She signed away her rights this morning. She has ninety days to appeal, of course, but I don't think she will."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked at him apologetically. She pulled another form out, this one on muggle paper, "She said to me," Hermione hesitated, as if she didn't want to say whatever it was aloud, "Well, she said to me, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want Tim back." she handed the form to Ginny and Harry.

Under all the muggle legalese was Mary Dawson's signature, signing away her rights, and then under "comments" Hermione's neat script read:

Ms. Dawson states that she is "Happy to get shut of the little freak since he and his father ruined her life."

"That effing cow," exclaimed Ginny, outraged.

Harry nodded, unable to speak himself.

"So you see, we really need to be able to place Tim somewhere long term, as soon as possible." Hermione went on, "If you both feel that you can make this commitment, that would be ideal. It would be all right if you said you didn't want to, I mean..."

"Of, course we'll keep him." Harry said firmly, finding his voice, "Poor thing already thinks everyone is going to vanish on him." belatedly, Harry glanced at Ginny, but she only nodded encouragingly.

Hermione and the healer both breathed with relief, as if they'd really been worried, "I'll have the office draw up the papers for a foster-adoption process, then. We'll have to wait the ninety days for appeal, during which time you'll be named temporary guardians and for nine months you'll be considered de facto guardians. After that you'll be able to do the adoption formally.

"What's the difference between guardian and adoption?" asked Harry.

"Oh, it's just a formality, but it's much more permanent." Hermione replied, "It would mean that Tim could change his name to Potter if he wanted and he'd have the same magical and legal inheritance rights as your natural children. It's a magically binding contract where guardianship is not. If Tim's natural father were to come forward during the year, he could file a claim on the boy, but after adoption, he could not.

Hermione's face turned hard, "But after what we've learned he'd be facing life in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable. On both a child and a muggle." she rubbed her eyes with one hand, "I'm so pleased you're willing to do this." She pulled yet more forms out of her bag, printed on both parchment and muggle paper, "Let's get these signed and you can go pick up Tim and Lily on time."

Harry signed the papers with the feeling of odd foreboding that had been dogging him all weekend, "Perhaps I'm here to prevent the rise of a new Dark Lord." a half remembered voice said in Harry's head.

Harry took a few minutes to file the forms requesting his long overdue leave before he and Ginny left to pick Lily and Tim up from school.

The healer set up an appointment for Tim the next day. First a general check up and then a session with a healer who worked with victims of the Cruciatus curse. Given the boy's age, it was highly likely that he'd suffered magical and mental damage.

"Can we do this, Ginny?" Harry asked her, as they prepared to Floo to the school.

Ginny smiled at Harry. Her bright, determined smile that made her look like her brother, George, "Of course we can." she said, taking his hand.

Tim was nervous all that evening. Harry understood, better than before, Tim's habit of creeping around. His flinch from a raised voice. The child was also no fool. He was well aware that Penny had been testing him. Harry heard him ask Lily if he'd passed.

After dinner, the four of them sat in the drawing room, as was Ginny and Harry's habit. Ginny and Lily were knitting. Looking a little bored, Tim sat down next to Lily and Ginny produced a second set of needles. Lily was patiently showing Tim how to cast on. Tim's fingers were actually quite nimble to the task.

Harry had his feet up on the coffee table and stack of parchments spread around him. From time to time, he looked up at Ginny, thinking how very beautiful she was and how very lucky he was.

"Tim?" said Ginny said, after a while. She kept her eyes on her knitting. This was a tactic Harry had seen her use many times with the children. She often found that they talked to her more easily about difficult things if their eyes and hands were occupied, "You've got an appointment with the healers, tomorrow afternoon, after I pick you up from school."

Tim stopped, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, but then he nodded and went on with what he was doing.

Harry noticed him open and shut his mouth a couple times, before finally whispering to Lily.

"Mum?" Lily chirped, "Can I go with you?"

"If you like." replied Ginny serenely, "Bring a book, we might be a while so the healer can give Tim a good once over."

Tim whispered to Lily again. Lily turned to look at him in confusion, "What? What do you mean?"

"What is it Tim?" asked Ginny, never taking her eyes off her handwork.

"Will there be any needles?" asked Tim, just loud enough to be heard.

Ginny looked up at Harry, at a loss.

Harry just smiled at her, so she relaxed a little, "No, Tim. Wizards don't get shots. If a healer needs to get medicine into you that you can't swallow, they can just spell it into you."

"So that's something like those stitches Dad tried that time?" Ginny asked. There was a lot about the Muggle world Ginny didn't know, since Harry, unlike other Muggle-borns had never seen fit to retain ties to it.

Harry nodded, "A lot of Muggle potions can't work if you swallow them."

"So how do they get them into you?" asked Lily.

"They use a hollow needle to put it under your skin." replied Harry.

Lily wrinkled her nose, "Eeeeewwww."

Harry laughed and nodded, "I completely agree."

Not too long after, the children got ready for bed. Harry tucked Lily in, thinking that she wouldn't let him tuck her in much longer.

"Dad?" asked Lily, "Is Tim going to stay with us for a long time?"

"Yes, I think so. Why?" said Harry, concerned that perhaps Tim's constant attention was starting to wear on her.

She looked unwontedly serious, "Good. He's worried that we'll send him away. I told him we won't but..." she grimaced, "He says everyone gets tired of him."

Harry hugged Lily, "It's hard if you're muggleborn and your family doesn't understand. And Tim's mum's pretty ill." Harry hadn't come up with any better way of explaining muggle drug addiction to Lily.

"Is she going to die?" asked Lily wide eyed.

Harry sighed, "No, but she's too sick to look after Tim. And it's not something that's easy to get better from. Even if we had wizard healers looking after her, we couldn't fix it."

"Oh, that's so sad." said Lily.

Harry agreed with her and kissed her good night.

He peeked into Tim's room. Tim was curled up with a book under his covers. He gave Harry a long solemn look.

"Good night, Tim" said Harry, coming into the room.

"Good night, Mr. Potter." Tim said softly.

Harry reached over and tucked the blankets more firmly around him.

"When am I going to see my mum again?" Tim asked suddenly.

Harry stopped cold. He'd hoped this would come up later rather than sooner. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of Tim's bed, "Well...I don't know if you'll be seeing her any time soon. She's going to have to stay in hospital for a really long time and..."

"She doesn't want me back, does she?" Tim said, "It's okay." he shrugged, "She always said she was going to find some way to give me away."

Tim's blue eyes were flat. There was no trace of tears or anger in his voice. Harry found himself quite alarmed by it.

Harry's silence must have been take as confirmation, because Tim looked at him sharply, "So where're they going to send me now?" again that emotionless tone.

"Auntie Ginny and I thought you might like to stay with us." Harry said. He knew that Tim would be difficult to reassure, but he tried anyway, "You can stay with us for as long as you want."

Tim nodded, "I...yes. I mean, I'd like to stay with you..." Tim trailed off a little disconcerted. Harry heard the unspoken, "Until you get tired of me."

"You should snuggle down now." said Harry, "It's time for sleeping."

The boy nodded, already with sleepy eyes. Harry used his wand to turn the magically lit rock that they used as a light down. He headed back to the drawing room where Ginny was sitting on the settee, a glass of elf wine at her elbow.

Harry sat down next to her. She handed him a filled glass of wine, "Thanks, love." he said, putting his feet up.

There wasn't much conversation between them as they stared at the fire.

After a while, Harry woke up, by himself. Ginny had covered him with a blanket and the fire burned very low. He assumed she must have gone to bed when he nodded off.

"You're still asleep, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice said from somewhere.

Harry sat up and looked around. He was dreaming of being in his drawing room and Snape sat in the high backed armchair.

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" he asked.

Snape didn't look so good tonight. He had that tired, haunted air Harry remembered from Hogwarts, "Perhaps, Potter."

"So, why are you haunting me?" asked Harry. He was too mentally worn from his day to be anything but direct.

Snape's mouth quirked up at the corner, "I'm a little too solid to be a ghost, don't you think?" He was too. Rather than the transclucent silver of a ghost, Snape sat there in all his bat-like glory.

Harry sighed, wondering again what his subconcious was trying to tell him, "I suppose you're what happens when I'm under too much stress?"

Snape smirked, " Indeed. I may even be 'an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato.' " he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Are you planning to make a point?"

Snape's smirk became more of an amused smile, but there were shadows under the man's eyes and his cheekbones stood out harshly, "Can I get you something, Professor?" Harry asked, feeling the need to at least be polite.

At his words, a tea tray appeared on the coffee table between them and Snape helped himself the teapot, "Do you know what the worst part of my last year at Hogwarts was, Potter?" Snape asked him quietly after a moment.

"No." Harry could think of a great many things it could have been.

"I couldn't go down to Minerva's office anymore and tease her about Quidditch. Or share with her a cup of tea at the end of the day." Snape shuddered, "She could hardly look at me. She stayed to protect the students, but she never ever surrendered her authority." he sipped at his tea, before continuing thoughtfully, "I thought, when your mother died, my capacity to love others had died with her. That last year proved to me how wrong I was."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry confused.

"In the years I had worked with Minerva, I had grown to love her. She was a mentor to me when I started teaching, you know. She was rather like a kindly aunt, I think."

Harry smiled bitterly, "I wouldn't know about kindly aunts."

"No." agreed Snape, "But you had Minerva and Molly Weasley. At least something resembling a mother figure. Just imagine if Molly Weasley looked on you with fear and disgust "

"Minerva nearly passed out cold when she heard you'd killed Dumbledore."

"I knew I'd never make it out the War." Snape went on, "By the time the Dark Lord was ready to kill me, I was more than ready to be done with the whole thing."

Harry nodded, thinking once again that Snape was indeed the bravest man he ever knew.

"I suppose I really gave up when I learned what that bastard had planned for you. And the part I was to play."

"Voldemort?" asked Harry,

"Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. That strange experience he had when he had confronted Voldemort had given him some peace with Dumbledore's machinations, but it hadn't been nearly enough, "I spent at least two years in therapy over that."

"The dead don't do therapy," said Snape darkly.

"No, suppose not."

"It's interesting how we blind ourselves to things. I had never realized how much I had grown to depend on the friendship of my colleagues, until it was beyond reach." Snape said, "Since I was a child, I had worked to convince myself that I didn't need anyone else. Lily was the only one whom I could allow myself to really trust. I never considered that the loss of my fellow professor's esteem would cut me so deeply. Every other so-called friendship in my life was based on fear or ambition"

Harry nodded.

"Even as a child, I had decided it was to risky to trust, make myself vulnerable in anyway. One of the reasons for my skill at Occlumency, no doubt." Snape stood again, abruptly, "I must go Potter. You can expect to see me again. As you say, this will probably be a regular 'thing'"

Harry watched the man get up, rather than follow him about, Harry decided that the dream settee was quite comfortable and it was wisest to stay where he was (in fact, he wondered if he'd just start sleepingwalking and not be able to find his room).

Harry pulled the throw blanket up more securely around himself and drifted into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

It seemed that it was sometime later, Harry woke up to the sound of screaming

In an instant, Harry was on his feet with his wand out, taking in his surroundings. The room was dark and the fire burned low. The blood curdling shrieks were coming from another room.

Before doing anything, he took a second to check the household wards. His wand shot out silver sparks, meaning the wards were intact.

"Harry?" called Ginny's voice, alarmed.

"It's Tim!" Harry called back as he tore down the hallway.

Ginny arrived scant seconds after Harry, dressed in her nightdress with her wand in her hand.

Tim stood in the middle of the room. His eyes were wide open and his hands were thrown up to fend off an invisible attacker. He was screaming as though he were mortally wounded.

Just to be safe, Harry cast a revelio charm.

Nothing.

"It's a night terror." Harry said.

Ginny nodded, "Kreacher. Go get a calming draft." she said, quickly, "Tim?" cautiously she crept to the screaming child's side, "Tim, it's Aunt Ginny. Wake up now, sweetheart." she put her hand to his shoulder, but he clearly didn't recognize her, flinching and batting her hand away.

Harry passed his hand in front of the boy's open eyes. Tim didn't blink or give any sign he saw Harry or Ginny. The screams were now being replaced with terrible keening sobs.

"Gin? D'you think..?" asked Harry.

Ginny nodded. Very gently she put her arms around the boy. After a moment he seemed to give up trying to struggle away from her.

Harry knelt down to look into the boy's eyes. This was something Harry had done with James when he was tiny, James had been prone to these night terrors. It had gotten so bad that they'd consulted a mindhealer about it.

The healer had said that it was not uncommon in young children and he would grow out of them. He had indeed had grown out of them, although James had been three not seven when he'd had them.

In order to help to avoid (or at least to cut down on)the sleep deprivation in both child and parents, the healer had taught Harry this technique. Harry rather than Ginny, because it was not that different from the techniques Aurors might use, to calm witnesses.

Blue eyes met green. Harry silently incanted legilimens.

The boy's thoughts were sleep muddled and chaotic with fear.

Like most night terrors, the images were unformed, more feeling than anything else. Not evolved into anything as concrete as a nightmare.

Shadowy figures flitted threateningly, at the edges of everything. Somewhere on the floor, a serpent waited.

"Tim." called Harry, "It's fine, you're safe." Harry looked for the image that Tim's sleeping mind would associate with the word "safe".

Tim began to wake up a little and the images became more coherent. Quick flash of an elderly woman with a worried, but kind face. A glimpse of gold fish in a pond. Mr. Clark having dinner with Tim and the kind faced woman, that Harry assumed was Tim's Nana while she lived.

Harry pulled those memories forward, very gently. Their associated feeling would pull him away from the fear. Harry hoped he could find one Patronus worthy memory. Carefully, he probed a little deeper.

Tim seemed to sense Harry. Harry could feel him shying away from the mental touch.

Suddenly, a vivid memory of trust. Tim's face sunk into sweet smelling, red hair. Someone's arms embracing him, a strong and reassuring shoulder to lean on. A woman's shoulder. Ginny, probably.

A memory of peace, a girl's hand clasped tightly in Tim's own. When Harry studied the image for a second, he decided it was probably Lily's hand.

Harry brought those memory forward. Their emotions began to override the boy's panic

Tim began to relax into Ginny's embrace, slumped sideways against her.

Harry didn't like to stop now that he was making some headway, so he probed one last time.

Another good strong memory. Green eyes that seemed to be promising safety.

For a bare second, Harry was disoriented. The eyes looked exactly like his son Albus', whom Tim had yet to meet. Harry realized, with a little smile, he was looking at his own eyes from Tim's perspective. It was funny the way small children saw things- discounting Harry's glasses entirely that they didn't even appear in the image.

Harry pulled that image forward, as well. Tim was probably remembering the roof from Sunday.

Tim seemed almost completely awake now, Harry very gently dropped the spell.

Tim's keening sobs had quieted to more normal sounding crying. Ginny patted his back and whispered calming words into his ears.

Kreacher stood at Harry's elbow with a calming draft. Harry took it, glanced at it to check the potion's appearance and label (Kreacher was unlikely to make a mistake like that, but it didn't hurt to look) and uncorked it.

"Tim? Lovey, you need to drink this." said Ginny gently, "You had a bad dream and you're all overwrought."

Tim reached out with a shaking hand and took the vial. He oddly, repeated Harry's gesture, seeming to look to see what the potion was. Then he held it under his running nose, gave it a lttle sniff, as if to check its scent. Apparently satisfied, he drank the whole thing in one go.

Ginny pulled Tim to her and he laid his head on her shoulder. His crying still hadn't stopped, but his breathing slowed. When he finally did stop, he was asleep.

"I'll bet a hundred galleons, he doesn't remember a thing in the morning." Ginny whispered, picking the little boy up and returning him to his bed.

Harry was in the corner of the headmasters office. It was very late, by the sky outside the windows. Harry crept forward out of the shadows. Snape sat at the desk, apparently writing a long letter. He didn't move at Harry's appearance.

"Snape?" called Harry in a low voice. The man gave no sign that he had even seen Harry.

The sound of loud voices caused Snape to snap his head up. He picked his wand up from the desk where it lay inches from his hand. With deliberate movements he opened the door. On the other side stood Amycus Carrow and a terrified and furious sixteen year old Ginny.

As soon as he'd seen Snape, Harry knew he was dreaming. He also realized this was a memory.

Not one of his; it was a memory that Ginny had submitted to the Wizengamot. Harry's own testimony might have been enough to give Snape a posthumous pardon, but it was not enough to give Snape all the credit (and the Order of Merlin) Harry thought he had deserved.

At the time, it had not been easy to watch. Now his subconcious seemed determined to relive his witnessing of it.

Ginny's eyes were red rimmed and her face, uncharacteristically tear streaked. Amycus had her in a grip that was leaving a bruise on her wrist, even as she struggled.

Amycus had a lewd, evil grin as he dragged her into the room, "Look what I found, lurking around." he sniggered.

"Miss Weasley." said Snape, in a voice of utter loathing, ordinarily used on Harry.

"I gave her some 'detention' before I got here." Amycus said, pleased with himself, "Poor little thing cried a bit. Couldn't take her medicine."

"You fucking bastard." Ginny ground out, hoarsely, her voice was rough from screaming. Her limbs were shaking and she looked like she had vomited over her robes

"So why bring her here?" Snape turned away with studied nonchalance, "Send her back to bed. I don't have time for this."

"She's Potter's little girlfriend, isn't she?" said Amycus, "The Dark Lord would want her questioned."

Only because Harry was facing Snape directly, did he see it, but Snape's brow creased for a fraction of a second, in dismay, "Did you think I hadn't?" Snape replied cooly.

"Yeah,but I reckoned, maybe she was sneaking around trying to contact Potter. Cruciated 'er but no joy. I brought her up here, 'cause you could see if she's lying. Orders are, we're not to put any Pure Bloods over the edge, but she's a Weasley. Maybe we can make an exception?" Something shifted in the man's face, " 'Course we could use other forms of persuasion." Amycus let go of Ginny's wrist and stroked her hair.

Snape turned back to Ginny, a slow smile playing on his features, "Hmmm. I suppose so..."

Ginny squeaked in horror as she realized what the two men were getting at. Her trembling increased as Snape stepped closer and lifted a lock of her hair, seeming to examine it,

"Yes, perhaps you're correct Amycus." Snape leered, "I think I need to interview Miss Weasley," he cleared his throat, "In my chambers."

The smug look fled from Amycus' face, "Hey, I wanted to..." he began to protest.

"I take no one's sloppy seconds." Snape informed the man coldly, still holding Ginny's hair, "You may have her, when I tire of her, and not before. I think I'll be seeing a lot of Miss Weasley for a while." he returned his gaze to Ginny's horrified face.

A flicker of comprehension passed across Amycus' features, "Oh yeah...I heard you had a thing for redheads."

"Hmm, yes." Snape seemed distracted now, not looking at the other man at all, "Lock up when you leave, Amycus." said Snape lightly, taking Ginny by her upper arm and half dragging, half supporting her to the door that led to the headmaster's chambers.

Harry followed them. Snape pulled the door shut and waved his wand to magically lock it. He dropped the fainting Ginny onto a couch pulled near the fire, "Sit." he hissed, striding away into an adjoining room.

Ginny could hardly have done anything else, shaking as she was. Her pale face was tinged with green. Harry thought she looked as though she was going to be sick again.

"Drink this." Snape had returned and shoved a beaker of potion into her hand. Ginny looked up, opened her mouth as though she might refuse, "Miss Weasley, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't bother to poison you." Snape snarled, "Just drink the damned stuff."

Ginny's shaking began to subside as she drank. The greenish hue began to recede from her face.

Snape waved his wand and her robes were clean of the vomit. He rubbed his face with one hand, as though he were tired. After a second though, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, again looking every inch the bastard. He asked coldly, "Miss Weasley. Do you know where Harry Potter is?"

"No idea." said Ginny, flatly, sounding as though she were recovering a little.

Snape leaned over and tilted Ginny's face to look at him. He stared into her eyes for a moment until Ginny jerked her face out of his hand, "So, are we going to get on with this?" she said, with venom that Harry knew hid fear.

"I do not intend to..." Snape paused, swallowed, "Rape you, if that's what you mean. Although it is better for you that Amycus assumes it. The protection your pure blood gives you is wearing very thin, Miss Weasley." the tone was matter of fact, "You may want to rethink your attendance at this school after the holdays."

Ginny's eyes began to look glassy, "Wh...wha'd'd you gimme..?" she asked as the drug started to work, suddenly, "Y...you..."

"A potion to help with the damage of the Cruciatus curse. It would be a shame if you ended up permanently injured." Snape replied, quietly, "As often as you have required 'detention' you'll end up like the Longbottoms if it keeps up. It will make you sleep for some hours, while the nerves regenerate."

Ginny was right on the edge of conciousness, so the memory started to fade. It was obvious to Harry that Snape thought Ginny was completely gone. The room darkened to black; the last thing in the memory was Snape's voice, unusually gentle. "I'll do the best I can for you, Miss Weasley."

The light brightened again as Ginny came to. Snape was again supporting her, this time staggering to the hospital wing. Her robe's neck was torn and one could see that her blouse was unbuttoned underneath. Her eyes were still glazed and her hair tangled.

Snape took a seeming shortcut past what used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Amycus was apparently on his way to breakfast. He smiled evilly when he saw Ginny, gave Snape a wink, "Lemme know when you get tired of her, then."

Snape looked at the man coldly enough to make him blanch, "Yes, but until that time, she is mine. Do you understand?"

Amycus nodded quickly and slouched off toward the great hall.

Very few students were in the corridors, but Neville and Luna were standing outside the doors of the infirmary, clearly searching for Ginny. When they saw the state of her, supported by Snape's arms, they both started forward. At his snarled, "Out of the way." they backed off, but followed him in.

Madame Pomfrey came out of her office, "Yes, Headmaster?" she said, in a voice of crushed glass.

"Miss Weasley requires assistance." said Snape coldly, "She has some cuts and bruises that could do with healing." Snape tilted Ginny's head to show some rather large love bites on her neck, "And a contraceptive potion."

Madame Pomfrey started and rushed forward with her wand, running several diagnostic charms. After a moment, she stared at Snape, "But she doesn't..."

"Seem the type to engage in casual sexual activity?" Snape cut her off with a glare, "No. It appears it was nonconsensual." he smirked, "But so much is these days."

"Are you saying...?" Madame Pomfrey said slowly,

"Yes, Poppy." said Snape quietly, he lowered Ginny to one of the beds. "I am saying that I am an evil Death Eater who rapes young women. Now, you will heal these injuries and you will give her a contraceptive potion." He straightened, brushing off his cloak, "I would hate to get tired of her and have to turn her over to Amycus too soon."

Madame Pomfrey looked at an utter loss for a moment. Then, very slowly she nodded, "Ah. Yes, I see. And there's very little I can do, to protect Miss Weasley from these attentions, is there?"

Snape shook his head solemnly.

"All right, Severus. Shall I supply her with one, in case..?"

"I send for her again?" Snape glanced at her, "I have so little time for pleasures...No, I'd prefer her to come to you, I don't trust the little brats she sleeps with not to steal it for their own uses." he turned and swept out.

Luna and Neville were white as ghosts as they gathered around Ginny, who was staring at the door the headmaster had just closed behind him.

"Ginny, what'd he do?" demanded Neville in a whisper.

"I don't think I should talk about it." replied Ginny, in a high pitched, frightened voice.

The memory ended and Harry found himself waking up, wondering why the hell he was replaying that memory in his head. It had been one of the central peices of corroborating evidence to clear Snape's name. Madame Pomfrey had submitted the same memory, including the crucial point that Ginny had not had sex with anyone that night or ever. Poppy had pointed out that Snape had saved Ginny from being molested by Amycus by this ruse.

Poppy had also gone on to demonstrate that she, at least, had seen numerous scenes of this type and had suspected where Snape's true loyalties lay. She'd also testified that countless students had avoided permanent damage by the potion Snape was wont to force on them. It was a formula he had invented, although never shared.

Like a bolt from the blue, Harry realized why that particular memory was rolling around in his head.

"What are you doing with your first day off, love?" asked Ginny at the breakfast table next morning.

"Depends, do you need me this afternoon?" asked Harry.

Ginny glanced at the sleepy Tim as he played with his toast. He managed to make it through half a slice and the Harry saw that the rest of it was in his napkin. It appeared that Tim was off his food this morning.

"I think we'll be all right on our own." replied Ginny, "It's just a check up. The healer will give us a full written report and she'll be in touch to talk about anything we need."

"Okay, then, I needed to see Minerva anyway." Harry hesitated, not liking to talk about this in front of Lily and Tim, "Ginny, you know that potion Professor Snape gave everyone who had...er...detention with the Carrows that last year at Hogwarts?"

Ginny nodded.

"Do you suppose he left the formula for it in his notes somewhere?"

Ginny stared at Harry. Slowly, she smiled as she realized what he was thinking, "I don't know. No one's ever gone through his papers." In Snape's will, he'd left his entire body of research to the Hogwarts' library.

"Maybe I can get Poppy and Neville to help me."

"With what?" asked Lily cheerfully.

"Oh, just some research I want to do for the office." Harry replied airily, "I might give your Aunt Hermione an owl too, if I find what I'm looking for."

"Can I expect you back for dinner, or do you want to eat with the boys?" asked Ginny.

"I'll get lunch with them, but I'll be back here for dinner."

After Ginny left with the children, Harry drank another cup of coffee, musing that these disturbed nights were starting to take their toll. He slipped a couple of pepper up potions into his pocket and promised himself he'd go to bed when the children did, tonight.

Harry apparated to just outside of the Hogwarts boundary. He walked up through the gates but rather than heading up to the castle, he diverted to the War Memorial, by the lake.

Dumbledore's white marble tomb rose up out of the turf. Parallel to it was Snape's black marble tomb. That was the one thing that Harry had used his stature as the hero of the moment, after the War, to accomplish; that Snape should be buried here, at Hogwarts. The one home he'd ever had.

Snape had written his will in that last year at Hogwarts and something of a final testament. It was found after the final battle, left prominently on the headmaster's desk.

Snape had put it there knowing that the person to find it would be one of the teachers or else a Death Eater. He'd left a request that, should Voldemort be defeated, he be buried at Hogwart's. He had envisioned an unmarked grave somewhere in the Forest, however, not a tomb alongside Dumbledore's. Harry would not allow that. Minerva, Poppy and Hagrid, of all people, had come forward to support it as well.

Between the tombs, a grey obelisk stood, carved with the names of those who died as heroes at the battle of Hogwarts. Harry brushed his hand over the names. Every year on V V Day there was a memorial service held. After the first few years, Harry didn't often attend those ceremonies. He found them too sad. In fact he seldom even came here, it was just that after the past few days, the War was suddenly in his head again.

Harry shook himself, he didn't want to work himself into a depression. He had other things to think of, he just felt like he wanted to visit the man's grave before delving into his diaries and notes.

"Harry?" someone called.

Harry turned to see Neville making his way down the path.

"Ginny sent me an owl saying you were going to turn up this morning." Neville said, "She said you were working on a project? Said you were coming to look at Snape's notes?"

Harry smiled wryly, "And she guessed I'd start here?"

"Yes." Neville said simply, "So, what's so important?"

Harry crossed his arms, leaned against the black tomb, telling Neville about Tim and the revelation that Tim's father had apparently used an Unforgivable on both him and his mother.

"I guess that explains the heroin the mother's been using, then." said Neville quietly, "Bad enough, what it does to wizards..." Neville shuddered. His father, Frank, had died a few years ago, never having spoken since Bellatrix Lestrange had driven him past all sanity with the Cruciatis curse, right after Voldemort had disappeared for the first time.

Harry nodded, "Ginny's taking him to the healer today. See how much damage's been done."

Neville nodded, knowing without having to ask that there would be some damage in a child that young, "So, you reckon that you can find Snape's potion?"

"I hope so."

Neville nodded, "All his journals are in the library. But is it something you think he'd write down? He was so careful."

"I imagine this one would have to be pretty complex. I don't think even he could keep it all in his head." Harry replied, as they turned to walk up to the castle, "But I wasn't here. Do you think it makes sense to look for it, or am I just looking for false hope?"

"Honestly, Harry, I never could understand why any of us came out of it halfway sane. But that potion...Snape tipped one down Micheal Corner's throat after the Carrows got through with him. I remember taking him back to the Ravenclaw common room. At the time, I thought it was something to make things worse, but at least he was talking sense. I really thought that after what he'd been through, he'd lose his mind." Neville sighed, "I thought things were as bad as they could've gotten, but if Snape hadn't been here, it would have been a lot worse."

"Ginny said the same." Harry agreed.

"I'll help you however I can." said Neville, "And ask Millie, too, she was one of Snape's favorites." Millicent Bulstrode was currently the Potions mistress and head of Slytherin house.

"Thanks, I'll ask her. Poppy already said she's available."

Harry spent the morning with several of the house elves, bringing boxes and boxes of parchment out of storage. It seemed to be all the research Snape had done at Hogwarts as well as papers from before he became a professor. Harry knew that it would take some time to go through it all.

It was sad that that no one had had the time or motivation to go through it all, till now.

By lunchtime, Harry had it all packed and shrunk for moving. He asked the house elves to deliver it to Grimmauld Place, where Kreacher was waiting to take custody of it.

Minerva smiled when she saw Harry, "Find everything?" she asked.

"I think so," said Harry falling into step with her, on the way to the Great Hall, "Am I really the first to go through it?"

Minerva nodded, "You know how things were right after the War. Everyone so anxious to move on with their lives. And then...well, people just forget."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully.

"Dad!" called James' voice from a crowd of students

Minerva smiled and said "Let me know what you find, won't you?", before moving off to the teacher's table.

Harry turned to catch James as the boy threw himself at Harry. It was harder to catch him than it used to be, Harry thought. At fifteen, James was actually a little taller than Harry, apparently having inherited his height from the Weasley side.

Of course, the Dursley's habit of half starving Harry when he was tiny hadn't helped.

"Where's your brother?" asked Harry after returning the hug.

"Probably already eating," said James with a grin, "Come on, we'll go find him."

Albus was indeed already eating, sat next to his best friend, Scorpius. Hermoine and Ron's daughter Rose sat on the other side of Scorpius. Scorpius saw Harry first and whispered to Al.

"Are you in trouble, James?" Rose asked suspiciously as Harry and James drew near, "Hello, Uncle Harry." she said politely to Harry.

"I'm not in any trouble!" protested James, "Dad sent me an owl this morning that he had research in the library to do."

"Thanks for mentioning that." remarked Albus, dryly.

"How're my favorite Ravenclaws?" Harry asked the trio.

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Potter." said Scorpius politely.

Albus jumped up to give Harry a hug too, "We're playing Gryffindor in Quidditch next week." he told Harry excitedly, "It's my first match against them," Albus had just made the Ravenclaw team that year; he played Seeker.

James was on the Gryffindor team as Chaser, "Yeah, shame Ravenclaw won't win this time," he said, easily.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, if I were you." replied Harry, with a little smile, "Your brother's at least a good a Seeker as I was, at his age."

Albus fairly glowed at the praise.

"Of course, you're as good a Chaser as your mother was." Harry went on with a nod at James, "So I think it all depends on the rest of the teams. Just as well you're not on the same team. It would be an impossibly unfair advantage."

Both James and Albus grinned at him.

"Now, I didn't come just to talk about Quidditch. How are your classes going?" Harry spent a comfortable hour catching up with the children before they had to go back to class. James and Albus were full of questions about their new foster brother.

When it was finally time to go, Harry gave the boys a last hug. It wasn't too long until summer holidays and Harry was looking forward to having them home again.

Harry was glad that Tim did have some months yet, to adjust to living with them before more people were added to the mix. He only hoped Tim wouldn't be too overwhelmed by the crowd that usually descended along with the boys in the form of cousins and friends.

Harry arrived home midafternoon, asked Kreacher to bring a pot of tea. Settling down in the chair in his study, his disturbed night caught up with him. By the time Kreacher had brought it up, Harry had dozed off.

Harry thought that this leave was probably the best idea Ginny had ever had and she'd had quite a few good ideas. For the next two days, he spent most of the day when the children were at school and Ginny was at work in his study, reading through Snape's papers.

Tim's visit to the Healer's had been rather uneventful. In fact, Tim was so compliant that Ginny had found it a little scary.

Ginny and Harry had an appointment on Friday to speak with the healer's about the findings. Harry was dreading that appointment.

Both Ginny and Harry hoped that Snape had recorded the potion he'd given the Hogwarts students that horrible year after Voldemort had taken over, but thus far, Harry had no luck.

Kreacher had organized the papers chronologically for Harry. Otherwise the papers were a hodge podge of notes, recipes and personal comments. Harry was trying to make some order from that.

It was strange though, reading Snapes' diaries. Harry had the intense feeling of a reunion with an old friend, though he and Snape were never that. In the pages of these journals, Harry met again the Half-Blood Prince. The brilliant wizard whose potion's textbook had taught Harry so much in his sixth and final year as a student at Hogwarts.

The writing in the early papers was the same as the cramped script Snape used to make notes in that book. As Harry slowly worked his way through the journals, he saw the handwriting begin to mature a bit. It was likely that the latest of the journals would have the Professor's script that Harry remembered

Harry was certain that Snape had started working on his potion for the Cruciatus curse not long after he started working at Hogwarts, but the potions recipes from those years, all useful and brilliant, were of the sort that any really good Potion Master could create. None of them were original, although there were some great improvements on existing formulas.

In all likelyhood, the test recipes for the anti-Crucio were probably hidden, or encrypted magically. The first thing Harry felt he needed to do was find a journal that was not what it seemed.

And then he had to decrypt it.

And then he had to understand the formula. Created by one of the most brilliant and paranoid Potions Masters to ever hold the title.

And then he had to recreate the bloody thing.

Perhaps there were some Dark Wizards he could go track down. He was much better at Dark Wizards.

Harry recognized his dismal thinking as a need for a break. A cup of tea and maybe a walk were in order. He stretched and wandered down to the kitchen where Kreacher would have a kettle boiling as soon as he heard Harry walking down the stairs.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard Kreacher talking to someone. It sounded like Penny over at the school. Harry quickened his step a little.

"Looking for me?" he asked as he saw that Penny's face was indeed in the kitchen fire.

Penny's expression looked relieved, "Yes, Harry. Tim's having some trouble this morning. Can you come through?"

"He hurt himself?" asked Harry.

"No, nothing like that. He's just upset." Penny's face withdrew from the fireplace.

Harry threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and called the name of the school, stepping out into Penny's little classroom office. Penny was the school's nurse and she also worked with children who needed just a little extra help.

"So where is he?" asked Harry, brushing soot off his robes.

Penny stood there, looking slightly embarrassed, "He's in my closet, and I can't convince him to come out." she replied, "I tried having Lily ask him to come out, but that seemed to make him worse. I think he had a disagreement with Lily at break time."

"About what?" asked Harry concerned.

"H-he doesn't want me to go away to school next fall."

Harry jumped, he hadn't realized Lily was sitting quietly in the corner. Harry walked over to her. Her eyes were swimming, and her lower lip trembled, "One of the other girls told him our class was going to Hogwarts next year. He asked me if it was true. I didn't mean to upset him..."

Harry bent down and gave Lily a hug, "Not your fault, Lily-pet. I think Tim's overdue for getting upset and that just pushed him over the edge. You go on back to class and I'll look after him. Right?"

Penny gave Harry and Lily an approving smile, "If you could just come with me, Harry." she said, beckoning.

Tim was apparently in Penny's cloak cupboard. Fortunately, there was room for Harry to squeeze in too. Harry lit his wand. Against the back wall, he could see a bit of Tim's shoe as it poked out from under Penny's wool cloak.

"Tim?" said Harry, quietly, "Can you come out?"

No answer. Harry held his breath to listen for the boy's breathing, clearly audible in the small space. It was too fast for the boy to have fallen asleep (or passed out) but not that rapid, almost-hyperventilation the child was prone to.

"Tim? Miss Clearwater, Lily and I are worried about you. If you won't come out, do you want one of us to come back there?"

Harry heard Tim's breath catch, a tiny sob escaped. This was seeming very familiar, but at least no one had been turned into a cockroach.

"Nobody's angry with you, lovey." said Penny, "I already fixed the window. Everyone loses control of their magic once in a while, no need to be frightened."

The child pulled his foot back and Harry lost sight of it. Then he heard a sharp rhythmic banging. After a second he realized that Tim was no longer sitting with his back to the wall. Now, he curled up on his knees, hitting his head against the floor.

"No, don't do that." Harry said, quickly. He lunged forward and pulled Tim towards him and out of the closet, all tangled up in Penny's cloak. Tim fought Harry, but one of his arms was pinned by the cloak. Harry pinioned the boy's other arm against his side. For good measure Harry pinned the child's flailing legs with one of his own.

The strangest part about it was that the child was fighting so fiercely without a single word or cry from his mouth.

"You're not allowed to hurt yourself," said Harry firmly, when Tim stopped struggling. This was what the mindhealer had advised him to say if-when- this scenario came up.

Tim's eyes were focused somewhere beyond the middle distance and the hair on the back of Harry's neck went up as he recognized the look. It was the same one he'd seen on the faces of victims of certain Dark Wizards.

Bit by bit Tim went limp in Harry's arms. Just as slowly, awareness of where he was came back into his face. When Harry felt he could move Tim without setting him off again, he picked him up, cloak and all, and sat down on Penny's rocking chair. It was here where she soothed the hurts of the very youngest children.

"All right. All right." Harry said softly as he had to his older children when they were tiny, "Sh-sh-shh." he started singing a little lullabye that Ginny had taught him. No one had ever sang to Harry after his own mother died, so all the songs he knew had been learned since James was born.

After a few minutes, the boy began to squirm a bit. Harry looked into Tim's face which was confused and suspicious, "Better now?" asked Harry.

Tim's eyes were narrowed, but he nodded. Harry let him get down on his feet and unwrapped the cloak. A red and purple bruise stood out on Tim's forehead where he'd banged it on the floor so hard. Without thinking, Harry pulled out his wand, intending to heal the bruise the way he would have one of James'.

Tim gasped and put his hands over his face.

Damn, that had to be as bad as coming at Harry at the same age with Vernon's belt.

"It's okay." Harry said softly. Gently he pulled Tim's hands down. Tim set his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Every muscle in the boy's body tensed and waiting for pain.

Harry whispered the incantation for bruise healing and Tim jerked backward at the warm sensation. He opened his eyes and stared at Harry.

"Ready to go home?" asked Harry gently.

Astonishment washed over the boy's face for a moment, then the suspicion returned. Harry turned to Penny and said, "Let Lily know I've taken him home. I don't want her to worry."

Penny smiled and nodded.

Harry took Tim's hand and used the floo powder. In a moment they were emerging from the fireplace into their kitchen.

"I'll go pack, Mr. Potter." whispered Tim, letting go of Harry's hand quickly.

"If Little Master needs to pack." said Kreacher absently, from the table where he was making the tea, "Kreacher will do it. Little Master shouldn't trouble himself."

"Oh." said Tim sounding desolate, "All right, then. I'll just keep out of the way till it's time."

"Time for what?" Harry said confused.

"Time to leave...Can I...May I, I mean..May I say goodbye to Lily and Mrs. Potter?"

Kreacher looked at Harry sharply, "Is Little Master needing to go somewhere? Maybe Kreacher should go with Master Harry and Little Master Tim?" Kreacher said it in such a way that Harry understood that only a direct order would keep Kreacher from following them. And then, Kreacher would try to find a loophole in the order.

"But, we're not going anywhere." said Harry, "What are you talking about, Tim?" Harry had an idea he did know what Tim meant, but wanted to get it out where he could address it.

"You're sending me home." whispered Tim. He didn't even phrase it as a question.

"But, Little Master is already home." said Kreacher harshly, "Little Master Tim belongs here."

Harry was surprised, Kreacher was devoted to the children, of course, but it seemed that he took a special interest in Tim.

Upon reflection, perhaps it wasn't so odd.

Tim was staring at Kreacher and then at Harry.

"You should listen to Kreacher." Harry said finally, "He's a wise old house elf."

Kreacher blushed at being praised by his Master and stood up straighter.

"Who do you serve, Kreacher?" asked Harry.

"I serve the House of Potter." Kreacher said proudly, "I serve Master Harry, Mistress Ginny, Master James, Master Albus, Little Miss Lily, and Little Master Tim."

"There, you see." said Harry, "Kreacher knows who belongs to the Potters."

"Oh." said Tim.

Harry worried looking at the boy's confused face, perhaps this was the wrong way and wrong time to go about explaining this. Tim knew that his mother wouldn't be able to see him for a while, but maybe he wasn't ready to consider himself a Potter yet.

"Aunt Ginny and I, we're you're official guardians right now." Harry said slowly, to clarify.

"But why?" asked Tim.

"Because you need someone to look after you and you're mum's still too ill." said Harry, going with what the Mindhealers told him about keeping things simple.

"No, I mean, why do you want to?"

"Because sometimes souls have to find each other." said Kreacher sagely and unexpectedly, "House elves say that sometimes souls lose each other and need to find each other again."

Harry smiled a little at this glimpse into house elf philosophy.

"Master Harry has been looking for you for ever such a long time, Little Master." finished Kreacher.

To: harry(dot)potter(at)gringotts(dot)wiz(dot)uk

From: ddbartondurs(at)yahoo(dot)co(dot)uk

Subject: Lunch

Harry,

Hoping this finds you. Hermione told me that this was the best way to contact you, if I don't have an owl. Phillip was all for getting one until he found out how expensive they were. And the kind of mess they leave. :-)

I don't even know how we'd get it back if we let it go. Yours used to go out and hunt for itself as I recall, didn't she? She was a beautiful thing.

I was hoping we could get some lunch soon? I've got Mon. off. Do you have time?

Hermione says to tell you to just reply with the delivery owl. Address it to my email address, ddbartondurs(at)yahoo(dot)co(dot)uk. The owl will know what to do with it. If you want to send it with your own owl, make sure she knows to take it to Gringotts

Dudley

Harry smiled as he penned his response, pleased that Dudley had written to him. He had some idea of going to see Dudley at some point, but truthfully he was a little nervous about bothering him. He also didn't know how he'd take owl post. Trust Hermione to have anticipated this.

Dear Dudley,

Lunch sounds great. I'm free Monday. I can meet you at 12:00 at your house.

Thanks,

Harry

"Harry?" called Ginny from downstairs, "Hermione's here."

Think of the devil and she appears.

Harry addressed the letter to the odd address Dudley had included.

"Harry?" called Ginny again, she sounded worried.

"Give me a minute." Harry tied the letter onto the owl's foot and sent it back out the window.

Harry trotted down the stairs to the kitchen. He assumed Hermione was here about some fairly routine paperwork regarding Tim. He was unprepared for a Hermione who was pale to the lips. She sat at the kitchen table, across from Ginny. Kreacher was handing her a cup of tea, which spilled as her hand shook slightly.

"Hermione?" Harry asked in a low voice, "What's happened?"

"Tim and Lily are at school today?" asked Hermione, she looked at her cup rather than at Ginny or Harry.

Harry sat down next to Ginny who clasped his hand.

"Yes," replied Ginny, "Why?"

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. She took a deep breath before looking at the two of them, "Tim's mother was released from hospital yesterday...and...and they found her...dead this morning." she paused as though forcing herself to go on, "The Muggles are assuming it was an OD, but there's signs that it was...Ron and Ackerly are checking it out...there's signs that she was killed by dark magic."

A shard of ice seemed to pierce Harry's stomach. He squeezed Ginny's hand then let it go, spreading his hands out on the table in front of him. A trick to stop them trembling, "What signs?" he asked calmly, as though this were a witness interveiw. The tremor was caused by that spike of adrenaline that accompanied a new case.

"She was found dead this morning. In a house that had been abandoned and taken over by some drug addicts. She died without any signs of violence. When the police went around asking, someone apparently reported seeing her arguing with a man at a bus stop. They left together. She was found later in the squat by some other people...they thought she was still off on a nod." Hermione grimaced, "She was dead. The Muggle coroner is going to do an autopsy. I don't think he'll find any conclusive evidence of drugs."

"So," said Harry softly, "Do we have any witnesses to the death? Could it have been something like a heart attack?" He examined his hands as they pressed against the wood of the table, "I mean she wasn't very strong. It could have been natural causes."

"Her hospital record shows no history of heart problems. She'd been admitted into a methadone program. That was the condition of her release." Hermione replied,

"So, there were witnesses actually saw the death?"

Hermione nodded, "Just one. The police thought so, anyway. She told the police that the man Mary was arguing with didn't notice she was there. She was hiding under a blanket, apparently"

"Ron's coming here when he's done questioning her." Hermione fixed him with an acute look, "You can't investigate this, Harry." she said firmly, "You have a conflict of interest. Right now, we have to think of what-how to tell Tim."

"Do we...do we have to tell him?" asked Ginny softly, "I mean, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to see her...he knew that she..."Ginny swallowed hard.

"No. We can't keep this from him." said Harry, bleakly, but with finality "He needs to know. It's his life."

"Oh, but..." Ginny started, for a moment she looked exactly like her mother.

"Harry's right." said Hermione, with a sigh, "It's just a question of how we tell him."

"If its dark magic...perhaps we shouldn't tell him that..." Ginny sounded as though she were pleading with Hermione.

A sudden thought made Harry look up sharply, "Do we know what the witnesses say Mary and the other man argued about?"

Hermione looked at him quizzically but pulled a parchment from her bag, "One of the Muggles the police questioned said she heard the woman telling the man that she wouldn't tell him where "the boy" was."

Harry nodded, perhaps there was more to Mary Dawson than it appeared "All right. Should we bring them home now, do you think?"

"I think so." said Ginny, "But, honestly, I need a cup of tea before..." she had never had to tell someone that a dark wizard had killed their family.

Harry had. He reached over and took her hand again, "Has anyone notified her other family?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head, "No need to. According to all the records, Mary and Tim were the only family the other had.."

"So there's no one to claim the body?" Ginny asked, in a sad voice.

Hermione shook her head.

"We'll take care of her final expenses," said Ginny firmly, pulling herself together, "Tim can't have his mum going to a pauper's grave." she wiped the one tear away that was trickling down her cheek with the heel of her hand.

The front door opened and shut. Ron's footsteps came down the stairs to the kitchen. His mouth was set into a grim line.

"So?" asked Harry, knowing he didn't need to say anything else.

Ron threw himself on the bench next to Hermione, "Found a Muggle who witnessed it. She was pretty out of it. Doing some kind of Muggle drugs at the time, so she thought she was seeing things. She said Mary came in with this bloke and they were arguing pretty hard. She kept saying 'You can't get him. I sent him somewhere safe' And then he smacked her across the face. She laughed at him and there was this flash of green light. The man left and the witness figured Mary had just passed out. When they tried to wake her up, she was dead." Ron put a small bottle on the table, filled with silver vapor, "I got the memories before they Obliviated the witness. Not that she needed it much." he finished darkly

Ginny put both hands over her mouth. Hermione put her head in her hands and Rom put his arm around her.

Harry stood up with exaggerated care, went to the sideboard and violently threw everything off of it with one sweep of his arm. He stood there leaning with his hands on the sideboard, breathing hard. Trying to get a grip on himself.

"Harry..?" said Hermione, softly, through the shocked silence. He felt their eyes on him, their concern

"Sorry." said Harry, he turned around. His wife and his best friends stood there with understanding in their eyes, "It's just...just a little close to home. You know?" He ran his hand through his hair.

Ginny nodded, then said softly, "Kreacher? Be a love, and get us each a glass of firewhiskey." she spread her hands palms up, in front of her, "I know its early, but I need something right now."

Kreacher obligingly brought the bottle and four shot glasses. Harry slid back in beside Ginny who put her arm around his back. He leaned his head on Ginny's, taking in the scent of her hair.

"Sorry about the mess," Harry said as Kreacher went to pick up the stuff that had been on the sideboard.

In answer, Kreacher patted Harry's arm gently, "Kreacher is knowing that Master Harry is just upset. Master Harry is worrying about Little Master Tim, let Kreacher be worrying about messes."

"Thank you, Kreacher." Harry said, gratefully.

Ginny poured them each a glass, she picked her glass up, held it aloft, "To Mary. She died protecting her son."

Harry sniffed, held his own glass up, "To Mary." he said hoarsely. The firewhisky had the desired affect and drove out the chill that had settled in his stomach, replacing it with a pleasantly hot sensation.

For several minutes, the four of them sat in silence with the only sound in the room being that of Kreacher cleaning up.

"I suppose we should get Tim from school," Harry said, "We can get Lily at the regular time?" Harry worried that Lily would take on too much responsibility for comforting Tim.

Ginny nodded, "I think, you're right, we should tell Tim alone first."

Ginny flooed to the the school, she would be arriving back with Tim all too soon.

Harry reflected that it had been a long fortnight. Tim's report from the Healer's had been disquieting. There was a load of stuff he'd had to get translated out of healerese; "diffuse nerve axis injury" and "neuropathy" and "fey" (Hermione told Harry that muggles referred to it as "post traumatic stress disorder").

It all added up to one little boy who needed a lot of love.

The healer's thought they could help him somewhat. The potions they'd been giving him had helped a little, Harry thought. He mentioned the project he was working on to the healers; trying to find the anti-crucio formula in Snape's diaries. They encouraged him to continue. The few who had taken their NEWT's with Snape agreed that if anyone could develop such a thing, it would be he.

Ernie McMillian, who worked at St Mungo's in the Spell Damage Department, offered to help Harry with deciphering the healerese in Snape's notebooks.

Once this week, Harry had gone to visit Alice Longbottom. She was a survivor of a cruciatus curse that had driven her to madness. Since her husband had died she had very little change in her condition, but Neville had suggested that Harry might have a better idea of what to look for if he knew what kind of damage the potion was supposed to fix. Neville had also kindly given Harry access to Mrs' Longbottom's medical records.

Harry had to carry on the conversation one sided, because Mrs Longbottom never spoke to him. She hummed vacantly, and, now and again, her eyes would meet his, almost seem to recognize him and then she'd drift away again. With a shiver, he was reminded of how Tim did that whenever he thought he was in trouble.

And now this...Harry had no idea how Tim was going to take this.

Harry made some more tea and tipped just a little calming draft into it. It wouldn't do anyone any harm at this point.

Ginny and Tim stepped out of the fireplace. Tim looked apprehensive as Kreacher took his and Ginny's cloaks.

Ginny put her hand around Tim's shoulders and drew him to the bench by the table. She left her arm there and unusually, Tim let her, "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Harry knelt down in front of Tim, the boy's blue eyes were large and frightened. Harry had done several death notifications. He'd even had to notify children before that their mothers or fathers weren't coming home. Only in the cases of dark magic, of course, other types of murder didn't get sent to the Auror's Office.

This was infinitely worse.

Hermione had offered to do the telling, but Harry and Ginny felt it was important that they tell him themselves. She had stayed long enough to talk to Ginny and Harry about how Tim might react, "It might seem odd," said Hermione, "He might be very upset or he might not react at all at first. In fact it's more than likely he won't, children take time to process these things. Whatever he does, just keep calm about it. If you need anything, owl me." she'd said.

"Tim, love," Harry swallowed, "We've had some bad news. Your mum was found dead this morning." Harry had rehearsed this for the last five minutes, waiting for Ginny to get home, just so he could say it in one go. Ginny looked a little shocked at the bald way Harry said it.

Of course, Harry realized, suddenly, that Ginny had never been on one of these. And Harry didn't often talk about that part of his job. At most she'd heard a couple of stories that he and Ron had told when they'd had a few too many.

It was vitally important that the person being notified heard the "D-word" sooner rather than later, they said in training. The shocked person was too easily prey to false hope or they could sink deeply into denial. It was best to get it out there in as few words as possible.

Tim mouthed the word "dead" after Harry said it. He stared into Harry's eyes as though looking for an answer to a question he couldn't articulate.

"Like Nana?" he whispered finally, "She's dead like Nana?"

Harry nodded solemnly, relieved that he didn't have to explain the concept of death to Tim, then hating himself for that relief.

The boy didn't break down and weep. He didn't actually do anything. For a long moment he was as still as someone petrified. Harry looked at Ginny, alarmed by the thousand-yard-stare. She gave a tiny, helpless, confused shrug. After a seemingly interminable length of time, the boy came back to himself to ask, "Where are they putting what's left?"

Ginny replied, "We thought we'd bury her next to your Nana." she said firmly. They'd discussed how much choice to give the child in this. Harry would have left it all up to Tim, but both witches objected to that, saying that Tim needed to feel as though the grown ups were in control, "Did your Nana have a minister for her funeral?"

Tim nodded, "The vicar at the church said prayers when we buried her."

"I'll call him then, is that all right?" asked Harry. They had all thought it was a good idea for Tim to have a chance to say goodbye.

Tim nodded again. Took a big breath, "Are you going to take me to an orphanage, now?" That horrible, perpetual question.

Ginny gave a little sniff, "No, love," she said in a shaky voice, "You're staying here. With us."

"Was she...was she doing something bad? That got her killed? People used to say she was going to get herself killed."

Harry had a sudden flash on Aunt Marge taunting him about his parents dying in a car wreck. All those years telling him that his mother was common and his father a wastrel. His stomach roiled with hot acid.

"Listen to me," Harry said very seriously catching the boy's eyes "Your mother was ill. I think her illness made her a little mad. But the last thing she did before she died was try to protect you." he paused, took another breath, "We think she was killed by a dark wizard because she wouldn't tell him where you were."

"You mean my dad?" whispered the boy, too quick on the uptake for Harry's comfort.

Ginny made a noise in the back of her throat, "He wasn't your dad." she hissed.

Tim looked at her in surprise, "It's okay, Aunt Ginny," in an oddly comforting voice, "I know how babies happen," he shrugged.

Harry didn't want to think too deeply about that. It may be that the facts of "the wands and the cauldrons" were indeed taught earlier in the muggle world these days. However, Harry doubted Tim knew from anything less than sordid.

"It takes more than fathering a child to make a dad." said Harry softly.

"Nana used to say that." said Tim

"She was right." Ginny said, pulling the boy closer, "Your mum wanted to keep him away from you because she knew he wasn't a good man. Your mum loved you alot."

"She always said she was going to find someone to give me to." Tim swung his feet a few times, then was still again.

"I think she meant, she was trying to find wizards." Harry had decided that he was going to give Tim the most charitable version of Mary that he could, "She just didn't know how to explain it. And we're awfully hard to find if you don't know how."

Tim stared at his hands in his lap, "Could I see her, do you think?"

Ginny opened her mouth, already starting to shake her head to answer in the negative, but Harry beat her to it, "If you feel like you need to. Why do you want to?"

"It might not be her. It might be someone else...she might not..." he stopped.

Ginny stared at Harry as if she thought he'd taken leave of his senses, as he was nodding.

Harry took a deep breath, "She won't look right."

"I know," said Tim, "Nana had gone all grey and yellow, when I saw her. She was in hospital...we were visiting." he said it in that slow, composed voice he had, that never failed to make the hairs on Harry's neck stand up. Harry knew, without a doubt, that Tim would be able to see thestrals.

"I'll take you, then. Tomorrow." said Harry.

Tim nodded, looking somewhere behind Harry. Ginny had poured the tea and given Tim a cup, sliding a plate of biscuits over the table too. He nibbled on them and drank his tea. None of them spoke, though Ginny's arm was across Tim's shoulder still, and he leaned against her as though suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

Harry moved to sit beside the child and Ginny handed Harry his tea.

"Can I go to my room now?" Tim whispered, finally.

"Of course, darling," said Ginny, "I expect you might want a little sleep. Do you want me to come tuck you in?" she knew that Harry was planning to spike the tea with Calming Draft and that it was likely to make Tim sleepy.

He shook his head, "I just want to be by myself." He put his plate down. Stood up, "Auntie Ginny?" he asked, turning to her. He didn't say anything more, just leaned over gave her the first hug he'd given anyone since coming to live with them, apart from Lily. He turned and walked up the stairs.

"Kreacher?" whispered Harry as soon as he heard Tim's door close.

"Master?" answered the old elf, from under the table.

"Keep an eye on Tim, I'm not sure if he'll know to come to us if he needs us. If it seems like, well, anything, let us know."

"Well." said Ginny after a while, "I'll send an owl to Mum. She can get us some funeral clothes. I'll send Tim's size over. Just us, do you think?"

"Let's get Hermione and Ron to come too." nodded Harry.

"If we're going to do that, we'll have the whole lot, you know." Ginny said smiling slightly, "Mum won't let us hear the end of it, if she and Dad don't come."

Harry returned the smile, "All right, but tell her not to invite the rest. Poor Tim has no idea the size of the family he's getting. Let's break it to him slowly, right?"

"Do you really think it's a good idea for him to see the body?" asked Ginny worriedly.

"I think he needs to." replied Harry slowly, trying to articulate the feeling he had, "They tell us, in training, that when you do death notifications, you have to make sure it's real for them. Sometimes, it takes seeing the body." he rubbed his face, leaning on his elbows on the table, "I'll talk to Hermione. We'll make sure Mary doesn't look to bad. And Avada Kedavra doesn't leave any marks..." Harry trailed off, glad for the calming draft. In the back of his mind, he kept reminding himself that he would do Tim no good if he landed in Azkaban.

Ginny nodded agreement. Not at all happy, but understanding Harry's logic. Perhaps she was remembering the way she and her mother had insisted on dressing Fred for his burial themselves, "Will you go arrange the vicar?"

Harry stood, "I'll do that now, and Hermione said there were loads of forms to sign, if we wanted to claim Mary's body." He took his cloak and transfigured it into a sober overcoat, against the rain outside.

"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.

"Tell me, Mr Potter, when they sent you back, was it a punishment or a reward?" Snape's voice was distant and brittle.

Another dream.

Harry blinked. He was sitting with his back up against the headboard in Sirius' old bedroom. The room that he and Ginny now slept in, it having been the room Harry had always slept in, ever since he and Ron and Hermione had hidden from Voldemort here.

But this was Sirius' room, not Harry and Ginny's. The old posters were there. As was the old bureau which Snape was rummaging around. The room looked as it had done the day Harry, Ron and Hermione had sought it out as a hideout from Voldemort.

Snape apparently found what he was looking for. He sat down on the end of the bed with a photograph in his hand. Harry could only see him in profile, but from what he could see, the man looked dreadful.

Snape looked younger again, perhaps, twenty five. It was hard to tell, really, because he looked so distraught. Definitely no older than thirty. Younger than Harry in years, but his face was lined with pain, and tears trickled from his eyes. The man didn't seem to notice

"Come again?" asked Harry, confused. Why on earth were they here?, "You look terrible, Professor." he blurted out.

"Have you looked in a mirror today, Potter?" snapped the younger man, coldly "I asked you a question. When they sent you back. Was it a punishment or a reward?"

"When who sent me back from where?" asked Harry, still befuddled.

"When whatever power sent you back from Death." Snape wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and glared at Harry, as if challenging him to ask what had moved the man to tears.

"I...no one sent me back...I...wanted to come back...I had things to finish" Harry stammered.

Snape snarled, "Of course, things would be different with you, Potter. Of course you could choose to come back." the man said bitterly, "Everyone has things to finish. Lily had..." the sentence was unfinished as Snape stopped with what sounded like a sob. He looked away, trying to master himself.

"I've had dreams where that happened." said Harry softly, remembering the odd dreams that he'd had for years after the War "Sometimes my mother raises me alone. Sometimes my father died and you married my mother. Sometimes you were my father. Phoebe said they were all a kind of wish fulfillment dream. Even the nightmares." Harry paused considering, "I suppose it would be easier for me if the Dursleys hadn't been part of the equation."

"Did they harm you so much, Potter?" Snape asked quietly. "Did being raised by those muggles damage you so much?" he turned back and met Harry's eyes. Snape's eyes were somehow deeper than Harry remembered.

Harry stared at the man's face, looking for signs that he was being mocked. Snape's expression was guarded, and his eyes were serious. Harry search for the man's usual sarcasm, not finding it.

"Yeah. They did." Harry said honestly, "You know they did." he said with a little more heat.

Snape's expression did not change, and he said nothing.

Harry continued "I've thought about the damned prophecy over the years, too. I sometimes wonder if 'Mark him as his equal' meant I was marked for the kind of childhood I had. Did Dumbledore know, do you think? What he did? What he sent me to? What he kept sending me back to?" Harry had pondered that question for years. He hardy ever thought about it anymore.

Tim and Dudley had apparently brought it back up again.

"Minerva knew something was wrong." replied Snape quietly, "And Molly Weasley regularly sent the Headmaster a howler, when you arrived at her house, bruised and underfed. But she never had any proof and Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it. He thought that the wards were the best chance of keeping you alive. No one could do anything, because you never mentioned it. In those days it was even harder to get a child removed from their family. The Ministry would have wanted proof."

"Why are we talking about this?" Harry snapped, standing up irritably. It was ridiculous to be discussing this with a dream. "Here of all places?" Harry gestured around the room littered with the paraphenalia from Sirius' youth. The Gryffindor banners that had been held with permanent sticking charms. The pictures from muggle magazines of motorcycles and bikini clad women that Sirius put up to drive his parents mad.

"Your mind supplies the setting. Do you think I enjoy hanging about here?" The young potion master stood too, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Come on, then." sighed Harry. This place was such a jumble of memories and he felt too vulnurable. Whatever he was trying to tell himself, it didn't need to be done here.

He opened the door and led Snape to his study. Fortunately it was his study and not the crowded junk room it had been before Harry and Kreacher had renovated the house, "Sit down." Harry waved vaguely at the small settee. Firewhiskey and two glasses sat on the desk so he poured them each a bit. At this point, imaginary firewhiskey was just the thing.

Snape sat down on the settee and Harry pulled over his comfortable wing chair, "What's on my mind then?" he asked, smiling a little.

Snape took a sip of his drink, "The little boy, of course." replied Snape, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

"What about him?" asked Harry, curiously. Interesting that Dream-Snape was always the one who came to talk about him. It made some twisted kind of sense to his subconscious, Harry supposed. Especially given that Harry had been reading through Snape's old notes with every moment he could spare.

"How comes the research?" asked Snape.

Harry snorted, "You should know. I'm finding things that are fascinating, useful, amazingly insightful and not at all what I'm looking for. I finally found a few books that are warded, but every password I try, the things just remain recipes for eggs Benedict."

"Are you sure they're warded, and not merely my cookbooks?" said Snape sardonically.

Harry grinned a little, "I had Ginny look at them too. There's too many errors in the recipes to be a real cookbook. As if you wanted to hide it from a cursory inspection, but tip off someone who was doing real research."

"But, no luck getting into them?" said the Potions Master, heavily.

"Don't suppose you could tell me how to get into them?" asked Harry hopefully

"It doesn't work that way, Potter." Snape snarled, "There are rules. Anyway, I'm just a figment of your imagination, am I not?"

"I suppose so. I was just hoping...I don't know." Harry shrugged.

"You might find out what else I left to Hogwarts in my will. Apart from my notes, I mean. I would have wanted credit for this potion, you know." said Snape calmly.

"Huh. That's a thought." replied Harry.

There was a little silence as both men sipped their whiskeys.

"What will you do with the boy if you can't cure him?" Snape asked suddenly, "Will you take him to St Mungo's to live out his life like Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

"No." said Harry firmly, "That won't happen."

"He'll never be right, you know." Snape said in a harsh voice, "You'll spend you're life looking after him and then you'll die, leaving him to the mercies of his adoptive siblings. Given how Lily's sister treated you, are you willing to hope your grown children will take pity on this interloper?"

"Ginny and I already discussed this. We'll set up a trust at Gringott's for his care, when we're gone. If..if the worst happens and he deteriorates and he can't care for himself. Hermione said that there's quite a few facilities that provide a better environment than St Mungo's...should he need it." Harry swallowed.

"So you take the boy in, planning to get rid of him if your miracle cure doesn't materialize?" sneered Snape.

"Don't be stupid," snarled Harry back, "Tim stays with us. He's family now. In six months he'll officially be my son. What he needs, he'll get. End of story." Harry poured himself another whiskey.

Snape helped himself too, "He'll never be like your other boys, you know. Even if you cure him, he'll be different. He won't be one of those noisy, dunderheaded, daredevils you call sons." he said through gritted teeth, "He'll be the quiet one, the forgotten one. Always last to be thought of..."

"I don't treat the people I love like that." growled Harry.

Snape peered into Harry's eyes, "Do you love the boy, then?" he asked quietly, "Are you sure it's not your love of playing the hero?"

"Fuck you, Snape" So angry that he forgot where he was, Harry stood up and pulled his wand on the man.

Snape didn't move, "Don't be so dramatic, Potter. I'm already dead, in case you've forgotten." he took another sip of his whiskey, "Funny how easy it is to fall into this, isn't it." he said, staring at his whiskey glass.

Harry realized he was breathing hard. He sat down, feeling a little foolish.

"So why do you love the boy, if it's not pity?" asked Snape in a low voice.

Harry shrugged, "Why does anyone love anyone? There's just something about him that makes me feel the same way about him as I do about the rest of them."

"He's not your blood." Snape said firmly.

Harry smiled slightly, "As if that really mattered. My family's always been Ron and Hermione. And Luna and Neville. And then there's Teddy and Andromeda. All the Weasleys. People like me have to take their family where they can find them."

"And your lovely wife. You're foisting this damaged child off on her too."

"If you don't stop talking that way about Tim, I will see if you can die twice. " growled Harry.

"He won't be like James." said Snape again, but less confrontationally

"God forbid. All my grey hairs are from him." said Harry, "Look, I know that Tim's possible worst case is that he could deteriorate to a state like Alice Longbottom's, but I don't think so. He's tough, Tim is. If he was going to go completely mad, he would have done it by now."

Snape gave Harry a long searching look, "Are you really going to take the boy to see his mother's body?"

That felt like a question out of the sky, "Yes, I said I would. I already made the arrangements." replied Harry a little non plussed by the sudden change.

Snape nodded, "Good. I feared it might be something you'd promise but not keep to."

"Don't be stupid. I don't say things I don't mean." Harry replied

"No. You never did, did you? Like your mother that way. Once she said something..." Snape trailed off and sighed, "I never saw it, until the end. How much you were like her. And you were to be sacrificed to the greater good...The last thing of Lily left..." there were tears in his black eyes again, "It was like losing her all over again. All that was left was finishing the task."

"I'm sorry." Harry said quietly.

"Yes, well..." Snape seemed to shake himself, "It is an unfair world." he leveled a serious gaze at Harry, "I hope you realize, I am only interested in knowing what your level of commitment to the boy is. One needs to know these things about oneself."

"So, what? You're my internal devil's advocate?" asked Harry. That almost made sense.

Snape smiled slightly and lifted an eyebrow, "Perhaps." he put down his glass and stood, "I have to go. Thank you for the hospitality." he turned to leave the study, then turned back to Harry, "You might ask Longbottom why it is that his work and his magical abilities improved so in his seventh year.

Harry hadn't slept well. Tim's early morning night terror had them both up at a ghastly hour. With some gentle Legillimancy, Harry was able to get the boy calmed and back to sleep.

After some attempt to turn over and go back to sleep, Harry just gave up in favor of taking a long shower.

He stared at himself in the glass, noting the dark circles and the grey hairs that were starting to show in the black. He pulled one out of the crown of his head, "You'll snatch yourself bald doing that, mate." said his reflection rudely.

Sad thing was, the reflection was likely right. He wondered if he should ask Ginny about spells to color his hair back to black, or should he just get used to the grey?

By the time he walked down to the kitchen, Ginny was up and drinking her coffee, in her dressing gown. Her back was to the door as she pored over some parchment. "Hey, Ginny," Harry said as he came in the door. Ginny didn't like being snuck up on anymore than Harry did.

"Good morning." Ginny replied absently.

Harry leaned over her back to kiss her neck and look at what she was reading. It was the list the undertaker's had sent of service options.

Ginny rested her hand on Harry's face for a moment, "What time d'you think we should have the burial?" she asked.

Harry sighed, "The vicar said noon worked for him."

"Mm." replied Ginny noting it down, "They want to know if we want the hearse pulled by thestrals."

"Oh, Merlin, no." said Harry sitting down beside her and pulling his own coffee cup over, "They do realize that the burial is at a Muggle cemetary, right? They can give us a car."

The funeral was being handled by Nekroun and Cenotaph, who handled most of the wizard funerals in London, except for those families who preferred to do it themselves. Harry had been rather impressed at how easily they had handled the muggle relations when picking up Mary's body from the coroner, but apparently this was a normal happening for them. Wizards and muggles were all alike in death, they said

"Shall we do the lunch at the Leaky Cauldron? I can owl Bert to reserve the big private dining room."

"Why not here?" asked Harry. The Leaky Cauldron seemed a bit public for this.

"Because we don't have enough room." said Ginny firmly.

"Oh, come on." said Harry, "The four of us and Ron and Hermione?"

Ginny gave him an impatient look, "And Mum and Dad. The boys. George and Lee. Percy and Pansy. Bill and Fleur. That's ten there. Rose, Hugo and Eleanor. Another three. Dudley and Phillip. That's fifteen, nineteen altogether. Mr. Clark makes it an easy twenty. Victoire and Teddy are still away, but Andromeda should get an invite. I don't know if she'll want to come, she'd been having some trouble with her knee...And then Charlie and..."

"All right, all right," laughed Harry, "Enough. Do you want to frighten the poor little thing to death? I thought we were going to take this slowly."

Ginny said very seriously, "Listen Harry," she said, "I think its important that Tim knows he's got a big family. That we're all here for him. At a time like this...Well, its more important than ever that he knows he's not alone."

"I suppose." Harry wasn't convinced, though.

Ginny sighed at the look on Harry's face, "If Tim starts to get overwhelmed, we can just leave. That's rather more difficult if we're here. Another reason to have it at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry nodded, reluctantly.

For a few minutes they drank their coffee in silence.

"And then, I just keep thinking about poor Mary." said Ginny quietly, "If anyone deserves a proper funeral, its her."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. Ginny had called the woman an "effing cow" only two weeks ago.

"Ginny?" asked Harry slowly, when she didn't answer.

Ginny sighed, "Don't you see? When Hermione spoke to her about Tim, Mary made sure that she wouldn't be told where Tim was. If she didn't know, then that bastard couldn't get it out of her. As long as everyone thought Mary might have visitation, she would be told where Tim was. Our names, at least"

"I never thought of it that way," Harry said, it made sense.

"I'm not trying to paint her as a saint, Harry." said Ginny, "But she was only seventeen or so when Tim was born. And if she'd been cursed very often...well, given what Hermione tells me are the effects of heroin on muggles, I'd've started taking the stuff too."

Harry nodded. Covered Ginny's smaller hand with his own, "You've never talked much about that last year a Hogwarts," he'd never had the courage to ask before, either.

Ginny shrugged, "Long dead past, Harry. What's the point?"

"It might help me figure out Snape's cure. How many times did the Carrows curse you and Luna and Neville?" Harry persisted, steeling himself for the answer.

"Two, three times a week that first term." said Ginny in a detached voice , "More between Christmas and Easter. Crabbe and Goyle got pretty good at it too." Ginny looked at him and her brown eyes, normally so expressive, had gone flat, "It was bad until Snape started with that potion of his."

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to face her blank ones.

She took a long tremulous breath, "After the first few times, you start to find that the ache never really goes away. All your joints hurt. All the time. And you're so tired. I couldn't get warm, and I remember not being able to follow what anyone was saying in class. Minerva kept sending me to Poppy, for Pepper Ups and Dreamless Sleep, but they didn't help much. It was only after one bad round...I thought I was losing my mind...Snape came in and gave me this potion. He told the Carrows that the Dark Lord didn't want any Pure Bloods to die. And then, the first time he gave it to me, my whole body tingled, like when something's been asleep. Hurt like hell. Slept for sixteen hours. Poppy told me that Neville was worse. When Snape gave him the potion, he had some sort of seizure. She thought Snape'd killed him."

She stopped as her breath caught in her throat, "I would do the same thing as Mary, if I couldn't kill the bastard first." she said hoarsely.

Harry leaned forward and took her in his arms.

They sat like that until they heard steps on the stairs. Ginny sat up, wiped her eyes, "I better get a move on." she said, still hoarse, "Lily, darling, get some breakfast. We need to go soon. You've still got school."

"Yes, Mum." said Lily, unusually quiet.

"Come on, Tim, you too." Ginny said, recovering her usual efficient self.

Tim flinched from Ginny as she tried to pat him on the shoulder. Harry caught something in the boy's eyes that looked like disappointment. The cups on the table began to shake a little. Ginny knelt down in front of him, "Lovey, what's wro..." she stopped, "That's a stupid question, isn't it?" she said to him softly.

He shrugged, looked down, "I thought..." he stopped, shrugged, "Nevermind. I'll get ready for school." he sounded tired and resigned.

She put her hand on his arm, "Listen to me, love, " She said quietly, even as the cups trembled as though with cold. Harry picked up his wand, just in case they started flying around. Ginny went on "I'm going to take Lily to school, and then I have some errands to run. You and Harry are going to meet me in Diagon Alley before lunch." she paused, as his eyes came up to look at her furtively, "That's where your Mum is now."

He nodded, slowly. The cups stopped shaking quite so ominously.

"Did you think we changed our minds?" Ginny asked gently.

To Harry's surprise, the boy answered, "I just thought, maybe, it was something you were just saying." he whispered.

"Sorry." she said, "That wasn't what I meant. I meant you need to sit and eat. Come on."

The cups stopped shaking.

"So I can go...go see her?" Tim asked as he sat down and was given a plate by Kreacher.

"Yes, love." said Ginny, "Harry and I will take you." she gave Harry a resigned sort of look, "Since, its so important to you."

After Lily and Ginny left, Harry sent off the parchments to Nekroun and Cenotaph's. He sent Tim up to get a bath and get ready to go. Again, Tim with his precocious self sufficiency. He hated anyone, even Kreacher to help him.

Harry headed up the stairs to make himself presentable and heard Tim talking. He peeked in the slightly open door. Tim appeared to be having a serious discussion with his teddy. On another day it would have been sweet. Today it made Harry's throat ache as he heard the boy say, "I don't know how long they'll really keep me. I know I'm no good to them. They've got other boys and Lily who are really theirs."

Harry went to find his good cloak, reminding himself that he fairly regularly thought the same things about the Weasleys, when he was young. Even after he had married Ginny, Molly had had to continue to be aggressively affectionate to get Harry to understand that he really was family.

Nekroun and Cenotaph's was at the junction of Diagon and Knock Turn Alleys, the crossroads being the traditional setting for wizarding undertakers. It was a fairly nondescript building with modest well kept windows and facade. Harry had never had need to come here before, never having had to arrange a funeral himself.

Molly and Ginny waited for Harry and Tim on the steps, "Tim, this is..." Ginny hesitated not sure how Molly wanted Tim to address her.

"All the children call me Gran," said Molly kindly, "Very pleased to meet you, at last."

Tim was paler than usual and managed to squeak out a little "Hello."

Molly looked seriously at Harry, "I went over with Mr. Nekroun what we needed. He said there was no problems with a private viewing. He said it...well, it's not uncommon and he agreed its often very helpful for the bereaved."

It was clear that Molly had reservations, but she led the three of them in through the door.

Inside was a comfortable sitting room, decorated in lavender and grey. Molly and Ginny sat together on the grey velvet love seat. Harry sat down on the matching settee. Tim surprised Harry by coming to stand leaning against him. Harry slipped his arm around the boy's shoulder and the boy didn't throw it off. Harry could feel Tim's trembling and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Mr. Nekroun was a thin, tallish man with a swarthy complexion, dark hair and black eyes. Harry had a sudden vivid recollection of Professor Snape staring at him over the rim of a whiskey glass. Where did that come from? Then it was gone.

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter." the man put out his hand to each of them, as they stood and then bent down a little to greet Tim, "And this must be young Mr. Dawson." Mr. Nekroun had a pleasant, low voice, pitched to be soothing.

Tim gave a jerky little nod of greeting.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." The man said gently, "I understand you'd like a private viewing?" he asked the three of them.

Harry replied, "Yes, we would."

"Well, we have her all ready. We've put her in a private room and the four of you can go in and spend as much time as you need. All right?" He led the way to a little room off to the side.

Tim was flanked by both Harry and Ginny, although he didn't take either one's hand. As they rounded the corner into the room, Harry heard Tim's breath catch.

A white coffin sat alone at the far end of the room. Harry breathed a little sigh of relief, to himself. Mary's face was composed and tranquil, although pale. She wore pink robes with lace sleeves.  Ginny had chosen them from the undertakers selection, because they went so well with Mary's blond hair. Hair that her son had inherited.

Harry used his wand to lower the table the coffin rested on so that Tim could see. He walked to within a foot of it, staring, his eyes huge and shadowed.

"That's her." he whispered, tonelessly. Harry knew that the boy had been hoping for some mistake.

Harry and Ginny still stood on either side of him. Harry was aware of Molly somewhere near the door.

"She hates pink." Tim said.

"What was her favorite color?" asked Ginny.

"Blue. She used to say she loved blue, like my eyes."

"Tim?" said Molly, coming up beside them, "Can you look at me?"

Tim looked. Molly took a good look into his eyes then raised her wand, pointing it at Mary's body, "Divum puteulanus vestio" she said giving the wand an artful little wave.

Mary's robes turned the same sky blue as Tim's eyes.

"Thank you." he said, softly.

"It's nothing." Molly said sadly, "I wish I..." she trailed off helplessly.

Tim walked a little forward, closer to the body. Ginny raised her hand as if to stop him, but Harry gently took her hand instead. He glanced at her worried face and shook his head.

Tim put a shaking hand out, touching Mary's cold one. The stasis charm on the body would have chilled it down to less than room temperature. Tim drew his hand back, startled by the cold stiffness of the dead hand.

Now Harry and Ginny came forward. Tim started to cry again, but there were no threatened explosions of accidental magic. Harry picked the child up and was gratified that Tim put his hands around his neck. Ginny encircled them both.

After a long time, Tim said, "Can we go home now?"

Ginny insisted, the next morning, that they all eat their breakfast before donning their dress robes. Ginny hated having to go over everyone with her wand as they were walking out the door. She had Lily's lavender and black dress robes hung on the door. She handed them off to the girl as she went up to get dressed

Ginny picked up the package Molly had sent yesterday afternoon and pulled out Tim's new robes, "Here's yours, lovey." said Ginny.

Tim didn't say anything, but Harry could see the suspicion in the child's eyes as Ginny drew them out of the bag. Abruptly, Harry realized that the wizard robes would look like a muggle girl's dress.

The boy bit his lip, glaring at Ginny distrustfully, but not speaking, as if he suspected he was being made fun of. Harry wondered if Tim's magic was going to make another appearance. It seemed as though any time Tim felt unable to articulate himself, his magic came out.

"I better go get mine." said Harry, "Come on Tim, you need to find a shirt and trousers anyway." Harry slipped upstairs to grab his own robes, it might be easier to convince Tim that way, "Need any help?"

Tim shook his head. As always.

Tim was halfway back down the stairs, when Harry emerged dressed. Harry heard the floo before he was back down the kitchen.

Through the door to the kitchen, Harry could see that his older sons were both in the dress robes, that Ginny had sent them the day before.  For once their messy hair was neatly brushed and not sticking up everywhere, "Oh, you two look very smart." said Ginny, approvingly.

Harry came into the kitchen, pulling on his own dress robes, "Come on, Tim." he said gently, "We can't be late." He indicated the robes that were neatly hanging after Ginny had used her wand to get the wrinkles out.

Tim gave Al and James a furtive look. The two boys were greeting their sister and their mother. Al looked up and saw Tim, "Hello," he said gently, "You must be our new brother, then."

Tim shrugged. Harry was beginning to hate that gesture, "Hi." said Tim very quietly to Albus. He turned to Harry, more concerned with the issue of clothing right now, "Everyone wears these? Even the boys?" he asked, sceptically.

Harry nodded, reassuringly, indicating his own attire, "Yeah."

The boy seemed to make up his mind that, since everyone was wearing robes, it must be all right. With a sigh Tim pulled the unfamiliar garments over his shirt and trousers.

James turned to give the boy a smile, "All right, then?"

"Fine." the boy replied. Harry was beginning to hate that word, too.

Ordinarily, Harry wouldn't have worried about how Tim dressed, but wizards (like everyone, Harry assumed) were very particular about their funerals. Ginny and Molly were both adamant that this be treated as a family funeral, and nobody was going to contradict both of them.

After the War, Harry had had ample opportunity to become very familiar with the funeral traditions of wizards. While ordinary black might be a general color of mourning, there were other colors people sported according to their relationship to the deceased. White trim for spouses of the deceased. Dark green for parents, Lavender for sisters and daughters, grey for brothers and sons.

The Weasleys would all show in their dress cloaks and robes, the colors black with the touches of lavender for the women and grey for the men, signifying that Mary was an honorary member of their family. Tim himself, since he was the underage son of the deceased, wore grey robes with black trim.

Nekroun and Cenotaph had sent an old fashioned black car to pick them up. It was on the curb waiting for them at promptly eleven o'clock. As the six of them piled in, the car's bench seat stretched obligingly.

The ride wasn't that long. Tim was quiet the whole way. Al and James talked in hushed voices about their last Quidditch match. Ginny was staring out of the window, deep in thought.

Lily sat beside Tim, holding his hand. He seemed to be comforted by that. When they got to the little church, he was still holding Lily's hand firmly.

He looked surprised as the Weasleys arrived, getting out of their various cars. He whispered something to Lily, "It's just the family." Harry heard her reply.

Harry was sure that Tim had no idea that "just the family" meant this whole tribe.

He whispered to her again, "Well...I guess we always all turn up when something important happens." she said, sounding a little puzzled.

Harry hoped the next time they all were together, it could be for a happy occaision. A wedding or a child's naming. Perhaps for Tim's adoption? At least with Tim's first exposure to the entire family, they were all a bit more subdued than usual.

Harry was surprised to see Phillip and Eleanor turn up in wizard robes. Eleanor's trimmed with muted lavender like the rest of the witches, and Philip wore a grey tie under his cloak. Dudley wore a sober black business suit with grey tie and handkerchief. Ginny must have sent them an owl explaining the color scheme.

The vicar of the little church was an elderly man who had known Mary since she had been baptised. If he was taken aback by the twenty-odd people who attended Mary's burial, he gave no sign. Harry heard Mr. Clark tell the man, in a low voice, that Tim's foster family were "Meredith's people". Harry got the idea that the vicar thought they were some sort of well-off gypsies and, as such, wore their native costumes to funerals.

Harry had to smile at that version of the truth.

Ginny took Tim to go sit at the front of the little group of chairs that had been set up there. The other children followed behind.

Molly came to stand beside Harry, "How is he?" she asked, indicating Tim.

"About how you'd expect." sighed Harry, "It's just, he's so quiet. It's hard to tell how he's doing."

Molly smiled crookedly, "Reminds me of another boy I knew once."

Harry returned the smile sadly, "I suppose he does." something occurred to Harry, "Did you really used to send howlers to Dumbledore?"

"Did Arthur tell you that?" asked Molly, looking a little pink, although her smile hadn't gone.

"N-no..." Come to think of it, where had Harry heard that? "It must have been Minerva."

"I sent a howler that time the boys took the car and rescued you. And then again at the end of the summer, because you'd gained so much weight, that I knew they weren't exaggerating about the muggles starving you. I sent one when we heard you'd run away the next summer. And then again at the end of the year. Fourth year, I think I sent him one every other week."

Harry looked at her incredulously, and then laughed a little. "I thought I was the only one who destroyed the man's office."

"After the incident with the Dementors, I not only sent him howlers, I shouted at him in front of the whole Order." Molly was definitely blushing now.

"Was that the reason why Arthur and the rest had a word with Uncle Vernon that next summer?" that had made Harry's life easier, the man had resolutely ignored Harry the whole time he was there, that year. Until Dumbledore came to fetch him.

"Oddly enough, no." said Molly slowly, "That was Professor Snape. I'll never forget it, it was just so odd. Showed up late one night, just after Sirius was killed. Tonks and Remus were both there too. He told Arthur and I that we needed to do something about your relations before...well, before the Dursleys killed you just as dead as the Dark Lord could. And then he told Remus that he didn't like you, but he wouldn't condemn a dog to live your life with the Dursleys. To tell you the truth, thats why it was such a shock when..." She trailed off

"Huh." Harry would have to think on that.

Just then the hearse drove up to the curb. Not pulled by thestrals, fortunately.

"I'd better go sit down." said Molly, joining Arthur who had introduced himself to Dudley and Phillip and was deep in conversation with them.

Bill, Charlie, Lee, George, Percy, Ron and Harry acted as pall bearers, carrying the lily laden coffin to rest on the Muggle contraption that was to lower it into the freshly dug earth.

The vicar spoke several solemn prayers that Harry didn't hear, as he watched Tim out of the corner of his eyes.

Tim sat quietly in his folding chair to Harry's left with Ginny on the other side. The boy let no emotion show on his face. Harry imagined that the child felt it was far to public a venue for that.

Lily, Albus, and James sat on the other side of Ginny. Ron, Hermione and their children were sitting to Harry's right.

Dudley and Phillip sat with Eleanor beside Molly and Arthur

The whole company sat very still, until the vicar was done and the coffin lowered.

Tim, Harry and Ginny used hand shovels to throw a few shovels full of dirt into the grave. Had this been a funeral in a Wizard cemetery, the family might have used their wands to complete the grave themselves, but Harry understood that the gravedigger here used an earthmover to finish it.

When that was done, the subdued group walked back to the churchyard gate.

Ron casually dropped back from walking beside Hermione, "Harry..." said Ron in a very low voice, "Over there, across the street..."

Ron didn't need to say anything more. Harry kept his face straight ahead, but flicked his eyes toward a movement. A figure in Muggle clothes leaned casually against the wall, looking furtively at the group. Harry would have been more comfortable if the man had been staring. A man staring at the whole company of them might not have been anymore than he seemed.

"Do we have a description yet?" asked Ron.

Harry understood what he was asking, "No, not that it matters." Harry muttered back. If it was a wizard, he could be using any number of spells to change his appearance, "Pass the word, I don't like it."

Harry had wondered in the back of his mind if the Dark Wizard who'd fathered Tim might try to get the boy back. Now it didn't seem like an idle thought. There were myriad dark spells that used the blood of children. Or else the man might simply fancy having an heir. It was likely that the man had a tracking spell on Mary, given the speed at which he'd found her when she left the hospital. There were any number of ways to track one's family.  Molly had a simple one in the form of her clock.

"Hey, Gin?" said Harry softly, "Across the street. What do you think?"

In answer, Ginny loosened her wand, under cover of tucking her handkerchief into her sleeve, "Come along, then. Let's not dawdle." she said crisply to the children. Harry dropped back to his accustomed place behind his family.

A little murmur went around the group. Wands were held at the ready in pockets or sleeves. If a Dark Wizard had thought to ambush them at the funeral, he couldn't have picked a worse group. Two were Aurors, and the rest were still in practice. Ginny and Harry often duelled with any combination of Weasleys to keep their skills up.

Harry was relieved when they arrived back at the cars without incident.

A bus roared by and next time Harry looked, the figure was gone. It was possible that the man had moved on, or perhaps the sound of the bus had covered the sound of apparition.

Monday's weather was overcast as Harry walked up Privet Drive to number four. Harry took a deep breath against his nerves. It was not nearly as bad as the last time he'd walked up to this door, almost a month ago, with Ginny and Minerva, but he still felt his pulse quicken a little. He wondered, belatedly, if he should have changed into his Muggle clothes. It wasn't like him to forget that sort of thing.

Harry shook his head at himself, bitterly amused. Forty years old and still rattled by visiting his childhood...well, not his home, but the place he grew up. He knocked on the door, trying to shake off his anxiety.

Almost immediately, the door opened, "Hello, Harry!" Dudley looked delighted to see Harry again. They hadn't had a chance to talk at Mary's funeral and wake. Phillip had spent the afternoon talking with Lee and George, while Arthur had monopolized Dudley, "Come in. Or would you rather go somewhere else?"

"I'm waiting for a few owls." Harry replied, "So if its all the same, I'd rather stay here." If they went anywhere in muggle London it would be difficult to receive the owls and Harry wanted the replies brought directly.

Harry followed Dudley into the kitchen where Dudley put the kettle on. Harry took off his cloak, laying it on the back of his chair.

"Thanks for turning up on Saturday." said Harry, "Ginny felt like it was important to have the whole family there."

"No problem. I just hope the next gathering will be a happier occaision." Dudley was pulling out the makings of sandwiches from the fridge, "How's he been?" meaning Tim.

Harry grimaced, "Not good. Hasn't slept properly since the funeral. He's got another appointment with the healers today. Ginny's taking him."

"Tag team parenting. Good strategy." smiled Dudley.

Harry smiled a little at that, too. There was a silence for a moment, "Finished your book." said Harry suddenly, deciding that this was as good a place as any to start.

Dudley poured some tea, set the two cups down on the table and sat down before speaking, "So, what did you think?" he asked. Harry detected a note of apprehension, well hidden, in Dudley's voice.

"Took some dramatic license, don't you think?" Harry said, he was careful to keep his words and tone non-accusatory..

Dudley sighed, "Dramatic license?" he asked, in an equally careful voice.

"Well, I mean, I was impressed by how you managed to portray the magic thing as a sort of Muggle giftedness. And I thought it was well written." Harry had found out from Hermione that critiques were better received when one started with what one liked about the piece.

"But..?" encouraged Dudley, when Harry stopped.

"Well, I realize that you have to write for your audience and everything, but honestly...some of the things you describe are a little over-the-top." Harry said, uncomfortably. He wondered why he had thought it was a good idea to bring it up.

Dudley gave Harry a long look, "That's how I remember most of it. If anything, I downplayed it, Harry." he said softly.

Harry shrugged. Dudley's book had made it seem as if the Dursleys were as bad as Tim's father. It wasn't that he didn't realize that the Dursleys were abusive, just Dudley's accounts seemed a little more extreme than Harry remembered.

"Well, look, you sort of talk about the Dementors like it was a mugging. Fair enough. And obviously, you left out the part about me getting all sorts of owls from the Ministry and school. But you have Vernon beating me within an inch of my life the next day for not protecting you properly." Harry said shaking his head. In the book, it was described as a major epiphany moment, for Dudley. That Vernon was punishing Harry (or "the Boy" as Dudley named him throughout) for things that Harry had no control over. Punishing Harry for trying to help Dudley, when Harry could just have easily walked away.

Dudley sat very still, never taking his eyes from Harry's face, "You don't remember?" he asked rather intensely, "I thought he'd killed you. He'd waited until Mum and I were out. Mum thought a bit of retail therapy was in order. When we got back, you were on the floor in the bedroom, all blood." Dudley shuddered, "Well, you know how much scalp wounds bleed. You had a big gash over your ear. You were out cold and Dad was going spare because he was afraid of the wizards."

Harry was shaking his head in denial, "No...that couldn't have happened...I'd remember something like that."

Dudley asked, very seriously "What's the next thing you remember after the day we met the Dementors?"

"Er..." That year had been such a disaster from beginning to end. He remembered, vividly, how angry he'd been at everybody, when he'd finally been taken to Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of The Order of The Phoenix. However, he didn't remember what Dudley was talking about. Was it possible he'd lost some memory getting hit on the head? It wouldn't be the only time that had happened, "I'm fairly certain the wizards came for me the next night." he managed after some thought.

Dudley shook his head, "It was almost a week. Mum cleaned up the mess and they stuck you in your bed and prayed your 'freakiness' would fix you. It always had before, when Dad went too far, I suppose."

"Dudley...that's just not.." Harry began. His palms were sweating, he wiped them on the fabric of his trousers.

"Harry," Dudley was looking at him very seriously, leaning forward in his chair, "Ginny told me that you lot play a sport where you ride broomsticks, thirty feet in the air. You let your children do this. That tells me that injuries just don't mean the same thing for a wizard as for the rest of us. I expect Mum and Dad figured this out somewhere along the way and...well...just didn't think you felt things as much as a 'normal' person. I think Mum, at least, wouldn't have let Dad go as far as all that if the bruises hadn't disappeared so quickly."

Dudley leaned back again, closing his eyes, "Or maybe they would have just killed you. You would have been one of those horrible stories that make the press go on about 'How could this happen?' and throwing blame around at everyone for not noticing." he finished bitterly.

Harry blinked at him, bemused. He leaned back in his own chair, resolving that, when that owl got here, he was going to send yet another note to Phoebe for an appointment. He was seeing her as often in these last few weeks as he had in the years after the War ended. He better just set up for weekly appointments again.

Distantly, he remembered someone (possibly Hermione) telling him that most Wizards thought house elves didn't have feelings as acute as a human's. Harry admitted to himself that he had been treated more like a house elf than a human child. He just didn't realize how far it went, he supposed.

Dudley stood, added more tea to his cup. Went to the fridge and pulled out the makings of sandwiches, "Hope I haven't killed your appetite completely." he said, perhaps as a way to give Harry an opportunity to change the subject.

Harry helped himself to a plate, made himself a corned beef sandwich from the collection of sandwich meats Dudley put out, "No, not completely." he said, wryly. It was a little awkward to be sitting here like this, without Ginny or Philip to carry on the conversation for them, in the silences.

"I really enjoyed meeting your in-laws." Dudley said, after they'd sat concentrating on their food, "They remind me of Phillip's family, actually. They're all completely mad." Dudley smiled, "His sister is a folk singer with a quite the following through her web site..."

"Web site?" asked Harry, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up, "What's a web site?" he had visions of somewhere one would put a pet acromantula.

Dudley goggled at him, "You aren't serious...?" then the reality caught up to him, "Oh, yeah. You were at your school through most of the nineties, weren't you?"

Harry nodded.

"And you never spend any time in our world, since then?" Dudley looked sad, "Is Eleanor going to end up like that? Are we going to lose her once she goes away to school?"

"Most Muggle-borns stay with their feet in both worlds." replied Harry, "I just never felt any reason to. " He smiled, "Maybe I have a bit more invested in it now."

Dudley flashed him a grateful smile, "I'll show you what the 'net is, if you promise not to blow up my laptop. That explains why I could never find you on Facebook."

"Nets and webs." said Harry, "Sorry...you've lost me completely."

Their conversation was inturrupted by a pecking at the window, "I'll get it." said Harry jumping up, "It's the package I'm waiting for."

The owl was one of Hogwarts'. It bore a long package and an envelope from Minerva. Harry opened the letter to see her rather prim handwriting.

Dear Harry,

These were the few things Severus left in Hogwart's possession when he died. He requested that his wand be donated to the school rather than buried with him and he also left this small box. Given Severus' caution, I do agree that his notebooks and journals were probably keyed to his wand alone. It is also not unlikely that the box is also keyed to the wand.

Sincerely,

Minerva

A second owl joined the first, this one with a lumpy envelope. It was from Neville. Harry opened it to find a small vial of silver vapor and a note with quite a few cross outs.

Harry,

I know that I'm I hope you don't think I'm taking the coward's way out. Here's the memory of the event you asked for. I just don't think Honestly, I'd rather not revisit this one myself, so you're welcome to view it. As long as  I'd be happy to answer any questions, but I think its complete enough. I don't know if  I hope it will help your research.

Neville

P.S. Now you've got me curious about my own medical records...I'll let you know if I find anything pertinent.

Harry smiled with satisfaction, pleased that Neville felt he could trust him with this. He had hesitated to ask Neville about it at all, instead asking Poppy. She had told him that her vows of patient confidentiality wouldn't let her share the information without Neville's permission. He hadn't expected Neville to just supply him with the whole memory.

"Good news?" asked Dudley.

"Oh, yes." Harry stowed the packages on top of his cloak where he wouldn't forget them. He pulled piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, "Can I borrow a quill?" he asked

"I've got a pen." replied Dudley, handing it to him.

Harry quickly penned a note to Phoebe, asking to be fit in some time this week, "St. Mungo's. Mindhealing department." Harry told the owl. Both owls took wing at the same time, after Harry fed them a bit of his leftover sandwich.

"Mind healers?" asked Dudley, interested, "Sort of wizard psychologists?"

For some reason Harry felt his cheeks get hot, "Yeah, I see one on and off. Have done for years." he felt a trifle defensive, "After the War...well...a lot of us had problems." it was stupid, given that he understood Dudley to be a sort of mind healer himself.

Dudley nodded gravely, "I imagine. Actually, when you first turned up here, I sort of assumed Minerva was your therapist. I would have brought mine if the roles had been reversed." He stopped, "Or maybe not. It might have been too hard to explain." he said half smiling, "Er...I was actually wondering...There's a lot I want to talk about but it's..."

"Awkward." Harry supplied.

Dudley nodded, his smile relieved now, "Yes. Do you think we could have a joint session...sometime?" Dudley's cheeks turned red, "Just because I'm not sure where we should even start. You know?"

Harry did know, "I think I can get Phoebe to do that. She's Muggle-born. Studied at an American Muggle University during the War, actually. I'll ask her, next time I see her."

"Thanks." said Dudley, "Oh, and another thing." Dudley picked up a folder from the kitchen counter, "After Dad died, and Mum got cancer, I had to help Mum with her finances. She was very well off, it turns out."

Harry knew that the Dursleys were well-off even thought they complained constantly about the financial burden Harry placed on them.

Dudley handed the file to Harry, looking rather shamefaced, "Turns out, you were a big reason why. They were getting about a thousand pounds a month from something called "The Potter Trust."

Harry sighed. That wasn't anything he hadn't figured out himself, although a hundred galleons a month was more than Harry ever dreamed they would have gotten.

"Well, they spent a lot of it." Dudley went on, "But they had the...I don't know...the sheer bollocks to put about half of it in trust for me." he shook his head.

Harry opened the file. There were statements going back to the nineties.

"I never felt right about using it." Dudley went on, "And I never really needed it. When Mum died, there was a lot of insurance...so...it's just sat there."

It dawned on Harry what Dudley was trying to do, "I don't need it." Harry said quickly, "Really, it's okay."

"I see that you don't need it, but I can't use it." replied Dudley, "It just feels like it should go somewhere."

Harry was quiet for a minute, trying to work out how many Galleons he was looking at. He stopped at "a lot". A lovely idea occurred to him.

"You know," he said quietly, "A lot of the poor students use a fund at Hogwarts to get their uniforms and equipment, but of course, it's always underfunded. Perhaps we should put this into a scholarship?"

Dudley's mouth quirked up, "Can we call it the Vernon and Petunia Dursley scholarship for Wizarding Youth?"

Harry sat on the wing chair in his study regarding his injured wand hand with a mixture irritation and chagrin.

The hour was late, but Ginny had insisted that they call in some kind of help. It was clear that none of the healing spells she knew would work. She was worried enough that rather than send an owl, she'd sent a Patronus. She was putting the children to bed now, after assuring them that Harry hadn't done any permanent damage to himself.

He contemplated taking himself to Saint Mungo's but, quite apart from the fact that he didn't want to explain what he had been doing for security purposes, he really was more than a trifle embarrassed at the accident.

"Bloody thing." he muttered darkly. The pain potion Ginny had given him had reduced the pain to a dull roar, fortunately.

The front door opened and shut. Someone spoke softly to Kreacher. Harry realized he didn't know who Ginny had sent for.

Harry heard footsteps up the stairs and a soft knock at the study door.

"Come in." he gritted.

The door opened slowly and the face of Luna Lovegood peeped around the door, looking concerned, "Harry?" she said slowly, "Ginny said you'd had a wand accident?"

She looked like she'd come directly from her workshop. Rather than robes, she wore a pair of jeans and an old oversized "Weird Sisters" t-shirt. a leather apron with pockets bulging with tools hung from her waist. Her silver blond hair was caught up in a ponytail on top of her head.

In answer, he held his blistered hand out to her, gritting his teeth against the still considerable pain. Too swollen for him to close his fingers, it seemed that the skin of the palm was beginning to wetly slough off in white and grey patches.

Her blond eyebrows shot up, "Oh, my. Did your wand do that? Did it explode?" She came into his study, walking carefully around the parchments and books that were stacked around the room.

Harry shook his head, "No. Not my wand." he said, "Professor Snape's. Bloody thing was booby trapped."

As always, Luna seemed to take that information in stride. Without missing a beat, Luna knelt down on the floor in front of him. Holding his wrist, she examined the palm closely. She turned it over to look at the back and turned it palm up again. She held her fingers close to, but not touching the skin of his palm. She let go of his wrist and looked around.

"Can I see the wand?" asked Luna, looking around. Harry nodded at his desk.

She picked it up, delicately. She gave it a little wave. Sullen grey smoke issued from the end in a thin stream.

"It wasn't booby trapped." she said gently, "It just really didn't like you. What are you doing with Professor Snape's wand?" As she asked him this she pulled out her own wand and tapped his wrist, then waved the wand across his palm a couple of times.

"Trying to get into his bloody journals." Harry jerked his chin at the stacks of parchment. What Luna was doing dampened the pain more completely, but the skin was still raw, "I think I have the password, but it got so hot I thought itwas going to explode."

Luna nodded as though that made sense to her "I've got something for wand bites back at the shop. Could Kreacher go fetch it?" she asked.

Kreacher was apparently listening, "Yes, Miss Luna." he croaked from the doorway, "Just tell Kreacher where to find it and what it looks like."

"It's in the workshop, on the wall, in a case marked with a red healer's symbol. You can't miss it. There's a bottle marked 'wand bites'"

"This happen often then?" asked Harry, more to distract himself than anything else.

"Oh, yes." She said, "You see it with stolen wands that haven't been won from their masters. It happens with heirloom wands sometimes, too. Sometimes a new wand will do it,just because. This is the worst one I've ever seen, though." she said interestedly, "You must have made it really angry."

"Yeah, well, I had that effect on Snape too. Like wizard, like wand." replied Harry irritably.

Luna smiled at him, maddeningly, "Maybe you should let someone else try. Someone without so much history with the wand's master."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, "Maybe Minerva or Flitwik might agree to try."

"So?" Ginny said, leaning on the frame of the open doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Will he live? Or do we have to have it off at the elbow?" her light words were belied by the tense set of her shoulders

Luna smiled at Ginny, "Just a wand bite. Not much works on them, but the specific remedy. Otherwise, it takes weeks to heal."

Ginny came in and and sat on the setee, shifting one of the parchment stacks to the floor so Luna could sit down next to her, "Thank you, for coming. I was worried." she said, with a relieved smile, "And naturally, he didn't want to see a healer." Ginny glared at Harry.

"Gin..." sighed Harry, "I'm fine. Really."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him, "I thought we'd talked about that word." she said a little sharply.

Perhaps to head off witnessing a spat (although it wouldn't be the first time), Luna asked, "So, why do you want to get into Professor Snape's journals?"

Before Harry and Ginny could answer, Kreacher returned.

"Thank you, Kreacher." said Luna taking the potion. She knelt back down in front of Harry, "Let me see your hand."

He extended it again. She dripped a viscous golden liquid from the bottle. The drops spread out immediatley, forming a yellow, shining coating over his palm and fingers. It sank into the skin after a few seconds. All the white and grey patches seemed to dry up to flakes. Luna tapped his hand with her wand and his skin was restored to it's normal color, his fingers to their normal size, "Careful you don't pick up anything hot with that hand for a few days. The skin's tender."

"Thanks, Luna." said Harry, gratefully.

"So, why did you want to get into Snape's journals?" asked Luna again.

Harry glanced at Ginny who gave him a little nod. She went and closed the study door. Sat back down again.

"Well, you know our foster son, Tim?" asked Harry, "He's been having problems." Harry went on to explain the whole thing in detail to Luna, who propped her head up on her hands, with her elbows on her knees , listening intently.

"So, Minerva thinks his journal is keyed to his wand?" asked Luna, when he had finished.

Harry nodded.

"No wonder it bit you." Luna smiled, "Didn't you tell me once that you got into terrible trouble, poking around Snape's office?"

Harry laughed a little, "Never thought about it."

"Wands are funny about things like that. " replied Luna.

There was a soft little tap at the door.

Ginny jumped up, opening the door. Tim stood there in his pajamas and carrying his teddy, "Auntie Ginny?" he said softly, "I wondered where everyone had gone. Kreacher said you were in here."

"Can't sleep?" asked Ginny, gently.

Tim shook his head.

"Well, come in here, with us. I'll get Kreacher to get you some milk, all right?" she drew him into the room.

"Hello, Tim," said Luna, softly, "Remember me? We met the day Lily got her wand."

"Hello." Tim whispered. He sat up next to Ginny on the settee, while Ginny asked Kreacher for a glass of milk.

"So how's Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked Luna, feeling like he couldn't keep talking about Snape's journal with Tim in the room.

"Oh, you know, about the same." Luna said sadly, "He's been drifting away a bit more every day. Some days I can get sense out of him. Today he wasn't sure who I was, just that I was someone he was fond of."

"Oh, that's hard," said Ginny, sympathetically.

Luna nodded, "But he likes where he is and I can visit him every day." she said, more happily, "And he still remembers every wand he ever made. I'll have to ask him what Professor Snape's is."

Tim sat drinking his milk, looking puzzled.

"Tim?" asked Harry, "You all right?"

He nodded, but looked around the room, "Is there a radio on?" he asked.

The adults glanced at each other, "No." said Harry, "Why?"

"I hear music." Tim stopped and considered, "No, it's more like just a humming, but it's a nice humming. Like somebody singing in the next room."

Harry couldn't hear anything and evidentially neither did Ginny. Harry hoped it wasn't some sign of Tim's possible deterioration that the healer's kept telling them to watch for.

Luna looked up with a little smile playing on her lips, "Is it in the room with us?" she asked.

"I...think so." said Tim slowly.

Luna smiled more widely at the mystified and concerned Potters. She stood up from the settee and picked up Snape's wand from its' place on Harry's desk, "Is it this?" she said bringing it over.

Tim nodded, "It's humming."

Before Harry could stop her, she extended the wand to Tim who took the handle, "Give it a wave." she said.

"Luna!" both Ginny and Harry said together, visions of Tim's hand being blasted off playing through Harry's mind.

Golden sparks trailed behind the wand and Tim's face was transfigured by a delighted smile, "It feels warm!" he said.

Harry and Ginny stared at each other, open mouthed.

"It likes you." said Luna serenely, "The wand chooses the wizard."

"But...he's too young to have a wand." objected Ginny, automatically.

"Mm-hm. You'll have to put it up for him, until he's ready to go to school." Nodded Luna happily, "It happens a couple times every summer at the shop. Someone comes into the shop and their younger brother or sister get one as well, because the wand is flinging itself off the shelf, not wanting to wait."

Tim stared hard at Luna, looking as if he thought he was misunderstanding her. Harry knew the feeling, "But, are you saying, the wand chose Tim?" he asked to be clear.

"Oh, yes." said Luna, firmly, "A wand like that won't accept anyone else, now."

"Oh." said Harry bemused.

"Won't Minerva want it back, though?" Ginny asked Harry.

Harry shook his head, "She said that it wasn't considered a school relic or anything...Snape had left it to anyone who could make it work for them. Minerva thought it was because he'd come from a poor family himself. She thought maybe he wanted to leave it for a promising Potions student who hadn't been able to obtain a good wand."

"But...isn't it strange that Snape's wand should just happen to choose Tim?" Ginny asked Luna, looking deeply unsettled.

"Not really. We've been here talking for the last hour about the lifework of the wand's last master. Specifically a potion to help Tim. If Tim was at all compatible with the wand, it wouldn't hesitate to choose him. Wands want to be useful."

"Oh."

"Do you mean...I can keep it?" asked Tim, as if he hardly dared hope.

"I-I suppose," said Ginny at a loss,"We'll...we'll put it up on the mantle piece with Lily's for now."

"Oh!" Tim couldn't seem to say anything, but like when they'd taken flowers to his grandmother's grave, his eyes said it all.

"Luna, do you think Tim could help me?" Harry asked, suddenly.

"I think so, if you really do have the right password." she replied, "It won't hurt to try. The wand won't hurt Tim."

Harry pulled out one of the plain books of cookery. This was the one that had made Snape's (now Tim's) wand bite him, "Tim, would you tap this book with your wand and say 'Lily"."

Tim looked at Harry quizzically, but he followed Harry's instructions.

The plain brown book lit briefly with a white light. When the light when away, the cover was blank green leather. Harry opened it and saw the cramped script had turned to more notes and potion recipes, rather than cooking.

Ginny, leaning over Harry's shoulder gave a little whoop of joy.

"Excellent!" cried Harry, jubilantly.

"Did I do that?" asked Tim astonished.

"You did," grinned Harry.

The boy grinned back at Harry.

31 December, 1981

The entire Wizarding World still celebrates and I am still hiding in the dungeons here.

Began Snapes' journal. This was the earliest one that Harry could find. It was painful reading; the man seemed to have had his journal as his sole confidant. Snape spent the first three months of 1982 debating the relative merits of throwing himself from the astronomy tower or drowning himself in the lake.

Harry read every page because he feared missing some clue or nuance of the potion he sought. He spent every waking moment with Snape's journals, it seemed. So much so that Ginny banned "that bloody book" from the breakfast and dinner table, one morning. Harry might have been annoyed with her if both the children hadn't started giggling.

"What?" asked Harry.

"I just finished asking the children to pretend they weren't antisocial savages, for five minutes." snapped Ginny, "I like to see my family in the morning. Not the top of three heads, with their noses buried in books." she walked away, grumbling that if she'd wanted that, she'd go stay with Auntie Hermione.

"I guess we were told." Harry muttered to Lily and Tim, to more giggling.

After that, Harry tried to confine his researches to during the work day.

In the spring of 1982, something changed for Snape. His journal took on a more scholarly, less personal tone. He recorded being asked to meet with Augusta Longbottom at Dumbledore's request. It appeared that Snape had a potion that helped with the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. A nerve tonic that was infused with phoenix tears. It helped those victims who had after effects from a short exposure to the curse.

18 March, 1982

I was unable to give Mrs Longbottom the kind of response she had hoped for. I met with...Rather I should say I observed the Longbottoms in their ward at St. Mungos...there is no sense in them any more. I daresay, my potion will perhaps relieve some of their symptoms, but the damage to their magic and their nervous systems is irreparable. Honestly, it would be better if they had died, I think. I am not the only one to hold this opinion as

The entry ended incomplete and it was several months before Snape came back to his journal, apparently; the next entry was dated the following July. It was no longer the self castigating ramblings of someone caught in the grips of terrible guilt and grief, but the disciplined voice of the Potion Master Harry remembered.

15 July, 1982

Dumbledore feels there is merit in my thoughts and is willing to sponsor the research. This is a fortunate development-I would never be able to afford the ingredients for what will surely be a great many experiments.

What followed was a long treatise on the Cruciatus Curse, complete with notes on texts. Very quickly, the information was over Harry's head. With Kreacher's help, he made copies of this and sent it off to Ernie McMillan, to see if the healer was able to make sense of it.

After that, was litany of experimental potion recipes, with their effects. Each contained ingredients that appeared to be calculated to counter the damages the Curse inflicted. Each one was deemed to be inadequate. Harry didn't like to think of the number of rats that gave their lives for this formula.

31 August, 1985

Of course, the animal studies will only go so far in telling me whether the physical damage is repaired. For the magical damage, I will have to test a Wizard. I can, of course, think of no better subject than myself. It's not as though anyone else would volunteer. The trick will be to convince the old man that this is the only way to test it.

Harry shivered at the casual words. Clearly Snape's intention was that Dumbledore should use the curse on himself long enough to damage him. But it was not until the end of 1989 that Snape seemed to make a breakthrough, apparently from reading a muggle publication.

19 November, 1989

I have become very curious about these new Muggle drugs that have apparently become all the rage among the mental health community. These drugs directly interact with the neurotransmitters in a way that is reputed to lessen symptoms of depression and other maladies. I have begun to look for substances that may correspond in the magical world.

Harry had no idea what a neurotransmitter might be. He wondered if Dudley might know. That web thing Dudley talked about seemed to have information on everything.

Following this was a list of more words that meant nothing to Harry.

Dopamine

Serotonin

Adrenaline

Noradrenaline

Oxytocin

Endorphin

Substance P

Perhaps this should be taken in this direction?

It did seem that Snape took a completely different tack, after this. Rather than pain killers and nerve regenerators, he began to look for substances to restore the natural balance of the physical and magical elements in the brain.

The list of words was repeated several times throughout, with magical ingredients that apparently corresponded.

Harry read further. During the latter half of 1990, it appeared that Snape had found a formulation that did most of what he wanted. A base mixture of Bhut Jolokia pepper, saffron, unicorn horn, St John's wort, poppy and phoenix tears, allowed to brew for a full moon cycle. Additions of various ingredients with stimulant properties were added after that. Including one episode where Snape had dumped his coffee into the cauldron in frustration.

The problem with the mixture was that it soothed too much. The rats were happy and comfortable, but stupid and somnolent.

10 February 1991

Perhaps the phoenix tears are too strong? I have checked and rechecked every other ingredient. I admit it had not occurred to me, given that phoenix tears are such a sovereign remedy. However, the tears of other creatures are known to be healing as well.

Snape spent the summer of 1991 obtaining and testing the tears of every other magical creature he could procure them from. Harry could only imagine how the man had managed to make a thestral weep; the journal didn't go into detail, but said that Hagrid had been "most annoyed" with him. Snape had asked Hagrid to obtain hippogriff and unicorn tears, after that.

The following autumn, the experiments had become less frequent. Snape complained to his journal of his increased workload. Harry took that to mean the guarding of the Sorcerer's Stone. Bitterly, the man complained of his duties as a teacher interfering with his passion as a researcher.

Snape also made reference to Harry, complaining of his many inadequecies, both those imagined and (if Harry was being honest with himself) real. This culminated with an entry made after the whole fiasco with Quirrel.

16 June 1992

The boy has a death wish. He need have done nothing and the magical traps would have ensnared Quirrel (and what is left of the Dark Lord) quite adequately until Dumbledore arrived. What the hell was he thinking? And of course, the entire faculty is so impressed with him that no one has brought up this particular point. Why on earth would Dumbledore not only allow this, but encourage it?

That was, of course, a really good question. Harry would have pulled James or Al out of school completely, if they'd been involved in a stunt like that. They would have been lucky to have been let out of their rooms over the next summer. Of course, the Dursley's didn't care what danger Harry put himself in.

The summer of that year seemed very good for Snape's researches, if not for his state of mind.

17 July, 1992

I dreamed of Lily last night. I only have two types of dreams of Lily, I think. The bad and the dreadful. In the bad, I remember that she is dead. In the dreadful, I do not, and when I awaken the grief is as strong as the day she died.

This was one of the dreadful. We walked down by the lake together, and she teased me for becoming so wrapped up in my researches. Then she asked me, very seriously, when I was going to finish the potion. I explained to her the difficulty I was having with the problem of the tears. She smiled, rather sadly, and told me that was one potion ingredient I didn't appear short of.

I awoke with a start, the way I do sometimes from these dreams. I found myself weeping. When I had composed myself somewhat, I realized that Lily had given me the answer. The tears I needed were human tears, but I suspect they need to be tears of grief in order to have effect. As she said, I have no shortage of those. We shall see.

The potion recipe followed again, this time using the human tear variation.

For two more years, Snape tested the potion, generally on rats. Apparently, Dumbledore would not agree to perform the Curse on Snape to truly test it.

1 November, 1994

That stupid insufferable child has managed to work out some way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dumbledore has agreed to let him compete. I think the old man has finally gone mad. Worse yet, Moody haunts my every step & Karkarov wishes to speak to me as an old friend. Bastards, both of them.

There was no researches of the potion that year. Snape wrote in his journal with rising apprehension, then fear, of the Dark Mark becoming clearer on his skin. He wrote about Karkarov's whining urgency and the false Moody's increasing intrusions on his privacy. Then in June, the potion was mentioned.

In spidery, shaking handwriting, Snape had written:

17 June, 1995

At least I am sure of my potions efficacy now. The Dark Lord was most displeased by my tardiness. It was a long time before he allowed me to give my excuses. I truly did not believe I would live through the night. I returned here to collapse upon my bed. I was quite insensible until the old man found me this morning. When I woke, I could not think clearly and in those moments, I did not believe I would ever be free of the pain. Dumbledore was grim as he examined me. He said my magic was quite exhausted.

I had set out my potion against this circumstance, but in my state, I had not thought to take it. Dumbledore fairly tipped it down my throat. It was not the most pleasant of experiences at first, but then a deep sleep overcame me until this afternoon. I am feeling well enough to eat and to write, obviously. It is clear that I will have more opportunities to test this formula over the long term.

For two more years, Snape tested the potion strictly on his own person. Almost every meeting with Voldemort brought further need for it, as he was often displeased with Snape's messages. Many of Voldemort's supporters began to experience degradations in their magic, and certainly in their thinking according to Snape. He contemptuously observed that if there were more meetings, they could let the Dark Lord finish off his own followers.

The year Snape was made headmaster, he began to use it on the victims of the Carrows. He did not record the effects, nor even the names of the students as he did so.

Except for Neville.

18 October, 1997

I had always wondered why Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor. He seemed far too timid for that. I suppose I had assumed, like Minerva, that the family legacy had swayed the Hat. It appears that I was much mistaken. I should record here, in case this is ever read, that my potion is not to be taken lightly by one who has had serious, or long standing damage. I thought I'd killed the boy. If I'd have had any choice

Several sentences were struck out, as though Snape was having trouble organizing what he wanted to say.

It would be prudent to administer a seizure preventative and something to render the patient insensible while the potion does its work.

Harry glanced at his desk, where the small vial of memories that Neville had sent sat waiting, knowing that this was the next step.

"No, Harry," Ginny said firmly, "I've already spoken with Neville. He said he doesn't mind. Anyway, I've seen what it did to him. I was there, remember?"

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair, feeling a bit stupid, "You're right. You're right. I just..."

"Think you have to do everything yourself." She smiled at him a little and shook her head, "You get so obsessed when you have a puzzle to solve." She looked down at the letters she held in her hands, "Now, Ernie says that Snape's research will be publishable once he cleans it up." Harry had sent Ernie the edited copies of Snape's journal, removing all of the personal information, "And he thinks it will help Tim, but he wants more information on the possible side effects. He said he was going to view the copy of the memory Neville sent him, today. And then, Poppy sent over a load of records, from Neville and from other people who had the potion."

"Why won't he talk about it?" asked Harry. Generally, Neville didn't mind too much talking about the War.

"I only came in at the end." said Ginny, softly, "After he was through the worst of it. He wasn't right for a few days, but we assumed it was because of what he'd been through. Then he seemed to snap out of whatever it was. He really got into resisting the Carrows after that. And all that practice we'd done with the D.A. seemed to take hold, overnight. I thought it was a confidence thing, but looking back..."

Harry nodded, thoughtfully.

In his first six years at Hogwarts, Neville had always been a little slow with his studies. He frequently buggered up simple magics and he held the record for melting cauldrons in potions. The bane of his existence, however, was his terrible memory and the fact that he seemed to drift through life in a fog.

During that last year, Neville had become one of the leaders of the resistance at Hogwarts. He became a great hero of the Battle of Hogwarts, defying Voldemort to his face, killing Voldemort's snake. He was still a dangerous man with a wand, when he needed to be.

Neville was eighteen months old when his parents had been tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse and he had been present in the house. Bellatrix Lastrange had been more than capable of torturing a baby. According to the records Neville had retrieved, Neville had been treated for it as a toddler.

"You ready, then?" asked Harry. He wondered why Ginny felt so much trepidation, that she didn't want him to see it alone.

Ginny and Harry stood side by side, entering the Pensieve together.

Snape's office as Headmaster was much more spare than Dumbledore's had been. Gone were the silver objects and ornaments. Gone was Fawke's perch. The portraits of the former headmasters still dozed.

Neville was sitting in a high backed wooden chair, with Amicus and Alecto Carrow looming over him. Snape stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the desk looking mildly amused,. His mouth was twisted into an unpleasant smile, "So, Longbottom, what have you been up to this time?"

Harry walked around behind Snape so he could properly see Neville.

Neville's face was the color of milk. His round chin quivered, but his lips were pressed together in a thin line, "Nothing, sir." his voice shook a little. Harry was struck by how young Neville was. James was only a few years younger.

"He's lying." said Amicus flatly, "He's been sneaking around. Sending him out into the forest with Hagrid didn't do nothing."

"We need to set an example." tittered Alecto.

Snape sighed, "I suppose so. Don't permanently damage him." he waved his hand vaguely, signaling for them to get on with it.

"Crucio."

Neville contained his screams for the first two seconds.

After the first minute, Ginny grabbed Harry's hand and held it tight. Harry looked at her, wanting to look at something, anything apart from their friend writhing on the ground after pitching from the chair onto the floor. She pressed her hand over her mouth as she looked on in horrified fascination.

Four minutes in, Neville's screams stopped, to be replaced by croaks and low groans.

Alecto raised her wand, "Huh, already gone, is he?" she said mockingly, "Not very tough, is he?"

Snape bent over the boy, looking interested. Neville's eyes were open, staring vacantly ahead of him. Harry shivered, since the memory wasn't fading out, Harry could only assume Neville was still conscious. Small sounds were issuing from Neville's lips.

"Hmm," said Snape, he waved his hand in front of Neville's eyes, "I don't think he's gone." if there was a response, Harry couldn't see it, "I think he damaged his vocal cords." he straightened, "You know, I have an experimental potion I've been meaning to test." Snape turned, walked around his desk to pull a small box out of it. It was the same wooden box Harry now had in his possession. Inside it was a good sized bottle of potion.

Snape filled a wine glass with it, "Sit him up."

Amicus and Alecto sniggered as they sat the unresisting Neville up on the floor, with his back resting against the headmaster's desk. Neville stared right through Snape, as the man crouched in front of him.

Snape held the glass to Neville's lips. A small trickle of the green liquid leaked out of Neville's mouth down the side of his chin. Snape pointed his wand, "Sorbeo."

Neville swallowed.

"So what's that s'posed to do?" asked Alecto, after a few seconds passed.

Neville let out a high pitched scream that made everyone jump. Ginny clapped her hands over her ears.

"Silencio" Amicus threw the spell at Neville and quiet settled over the room.

Clearly, Neville was in agony. He continued to scream soundlessly for what seemed like forever. When he finally stopped, he fell over again, his head thrown back, his arms and legs jerking. After a minute of this, white and yellow foam started bubbling out of the boy's mouth. Neville began to turn an alarming blue color.

"Interesting." said Snape mildly, again he pointed his wand, "Vacuo respirum. Spiro adagio."

The Carrows were beside themselves with glee, "That's great, Sev!" giggled the woman.

Snape gave her a cold, hard look, "You mean 'Headmaster'." He said, with an undertone of threat.

"Oh. Yeah." her face turned red, "Sorry."

Neville's color looked better, but he was still caught in some kind of terrible paroxysms, his muscles randomly contracting and relaxing. Pensieved memories were magically enhanced, but they couldn't produce events that the person had not actually witnessed. This meant Neville was in terrible pain and distress. Harry understood why Neville wouldn't discuss it, now.

Snape stood up, looking utterly unconcerned. He walked to his desk and rang a small crystal bell.

A house elf appeared, "Yes, headmaster?" the elf said.

"Tell Madame Pomfrey we need her in my office." Snape said, easily. He looked down at Neville, whose muscles had yet to relax. "Tell her to bring a strong anti-convulsant, and probably a painkiller and a Dreamless Sleep." to the Carrows he said, "The Dark Lord has said he does not want any Pure Bloods killed unnecessarily. I seem to have miscalculated with this formula. It was far too strong, I think."

The house elf disappeared with a pop.

Snape glanced at the clock, "It seems that it's past curfew, why don't you two do your evening bed check?"

The Carrows giggled some more, "Well, we'll leave you to it, Headmaster." said Amicus, "Have fun." He and Alecto took themselves out.

As soon as they were gone, Snape dropped his pretense of unconcern. He strode quickly to a cupboard in the wall and extracted two bottles of potion. These he didn't even bother to attempt to make Neville swallow, just pointed his wand at them and they disappeared. Harry assumed he was spelling them into Neville's system.

Neville's muscles relaxed marginally. He was no longer clenching his jaw, and he began drawing deep, slow breaths.

"Finite." Snape pointed his wand at Neville, his breathing became shallower, "Bloody students." Snape muttered, clearly unaware that Neville could hear him. He put his ear close to Neville's mouth, perhaps to hear Neville's breathing. He sat up and put his fingers to the side of Neville's throat. He shined his wand light in Neville's eyes, then closed them with his hand, "Bloody Gryffindors. Just trying to get yourselves killed. Bad enough that..." His muttering trailed off as the flu activated.

"What do you need, Headmaster?" asked Madame Pomfrey, archly, coming forward.

"Mr. Longbottom has had an overreaction to a potion." replied Snape, coldly. "Static convulsions. More than ten minutes worth. I had to use 'Spiro' to support his breathing. His breathing has eased, but I believe he would benefit from those potions." he indicated the three vials she held in her hands, "He has already received a muscle relaxant and a pain reliever.

Madame Pomfrey went pale as she saw Neville lying on the floor. She took out her wand and began checking him over, "What have you done, Headmaster?" she demanded.

"Nothing that didn't need doing." he replied.

"Nothing that..? You..." she sputtered as though looking for a word bad enough. She cut herself off, at a look from him.

"Do you really want to finish that thought, Poppy?" Snape asked, evenly, "Have a care with yourself, words are dangerous, these days.

Madame Pomfrey turned her back on Snape, to attend to Neville.

She must have spelled the sleeping draft into his system, because, at last, the memory faded out.

Harry and Ginny came out of the memory, holding each other's hands very tightly.

Ginny was the first to speak, "I see why Snape suggested something to knock them out." she said, grimly.

Harry nodded, shaken, "So you said, he was better after?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, you remember. Before that, he used to say he was almost a squib. How long did it take him to learn 'expelliarmus'?" Ginny crossed over to the sideboard and poured them both some of the tea that Kreacher had left sitting for them.

"It always seemed like Neville had to work harder than anyone else, at everything." agreed Harry, taking his cup and sitting down on the settee.

"After that, he just seemed to figure everything out." said Ginny.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey agrees that the potion was really helpful to Neville's case." said Harry quietly, "And, according to his records, Neville's case was similiar to Tim's in some ways, although his magic seemed to go underground rather than become uncontrollable. I suppose it depends on the length of time and the number of times and such."

"I don't think it went underground at all." said Ginny, thoughtfully, stirring some sugar into her tea "Remember how he used to blow things up when he got stressed? I think he was rather like Tim, now that we talk about it."

"How soon until Ernie reckons the new potion will be ready?" asked Ginny as she sat down next to Harry.

"A month."

"It was good of Neville to send Ernie another copy of this."

Harry nodded, "Neville said he doesn't mind as long as he doesn't have to see it, ever." Harry couldn't blame Neville, at all.

Ginny's brows were drawn into a frown, "Could the potion cause complications?" she asked.

"Ask Ernie when we owl him, but he seemed to think that, given the ingredients, the worst that could happen would be nothing." Harry put his arm around Ginny, "He said that the potion ingredients are all pretty benign on their own. He also seemed to think that most of the sedatives they use for serious procedures were compatible.

"So, you still think this is the right thing to do?" asked Ginny, seriously.

"I think so. The healer's seem to think so too. You know better than me, anyway. What do you think?"

"I think..." Ginny took a big breath, "I think we should, but I hate that we have to make a decision like this."

Harry sighed, "Me too."

It took twenty eight days to prepare the potion for Tim, but a little more than that to get ready to administer it.

St. Mungos had to make an application to the Ministry to use an experimental potion. Fortunately, with Ernie's stature as a healer of long-term spell damage, there was really no difficulty, but it did take time. The Healer's Guild had to review the research and the animal studies (which, fortunately Snape had documented so well, they didn't have to repeat them). Snape's name helped too, he had applied for and received several patents for improvements on existing potions, during his life. The process was to be expedited, due to the continuing fear that Tim's condition could deteriorate.

Harry still doubted that Tim would get worse. He took the wand's choosing Tim as a sign that he could get control of his magic. On the healer's orders, Harry had taken to teaching both the children little spells-he couldn't very well teach Tim without showing Lily. Both of them were proficient at Lumos now. It was one of the few things that brought a smile to the boy's face.

Since his mother's death, Tim had become more withdrawn than ever. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Harry found him sitting on the stairs, his chin on his fists.

"Why do you always sit here?" asked Harry, one night after Kreacher had woken him to tell him Tim was up and about (Harry and Ginny were taking turns with it, the same way they'd taken turns when the other three were babies). There was Tim, in his favorite place

"I like in-between places." said Tim, as though it were self-evident.

At least Tim hadn't been hiding in the closet lately.

Al and James came home for Easter break, bringing their energy to the house for a week. Tim was wary of Albus and downright frightened of James, but Harry had warned the boys how highly strung Tim was. Harry was worried about how Tim would adjust to them. Tim spent the first half of the week furtively watching the family again, as if James and Albus' presence would change some vital balance.

A trip to the Burrow seemed to ease whatever worries the boy had. The family spent their afternoon on broomsticks, with Ginny and Harry taking turns giving Tim rides. At the end of the day, Tim was able to take a slow lap around the orchard on Lily's broom, to Harry's utter delight

That night, Harry heard voices in the kitchen. He walked in to find all four eating all the biscuits in the house and talking animatedly. Tim sitting next to Lily and mostly listening, but looking as relaxed as he ever got.

At least until he saw Harry. He tensed, obviously expecting a row.

Harry smiled, "Budge up, you." he said to James.

James flashed him a grin and scooted over. Harry helped himself to a biscuit and listened until he noticed that Lily was starting to doze, "All right, you lot." he yawned, "Get to bed or you won't be worth anything in the morning."

"Right, Dad" yawned Albus, getting up. Lily murmured sleepy good nights, heading up the stairs too. Harry realized that Tim had fallen asleep with his head on the table.

"He's dead cute," said James, "I can take him up, if you like."

Harry smirked, "You think your Dad's too old to carry him?"

"Well, I just reckoned you needed your rest." teased James. He got serious, suddenly, "Is he going to be okay, Dad?" James wasn't serious very often.

Harry picked up the little boy, "Yes, I think so." he replied, sounding far more sure than he felt.

"And we're going to adopt him?" asked, James, still serious, "For sure?

"Yes." Harry wondered how to ask the obvious question, "You're...okay with that, are you?" they'd talked this all through with the children before they'd even applied for their foster care license, but still.

James smiled, to Harry's relief, "Yeah. It's weird, but it feels like he's always been here. If he weren't here...I dunno..." James shrugged, a little embarrassed, "It'd be like if Lily or Al went missing, you know? I mean, he hasn't been here long but..."

Harry nodded as he walked up the stairs, "I know what you mean."

It was several days after the boys went back to school that the Potters got the owl from Ernie. The potion was ready and the permissions were all in order. Ginny and Harry would need to bring Tim to St. Mungo's on the following Monday morning.

Right after they took Lily to school, on Monday, they arrived at St Mungo's. Harry and Ginny had explained as best they could what the healers were going to do and why.

"Will it hurt?" was all Tim had asked.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, honestly, "The healers are going to give you some potions to make you sleep."

"And there's no needles?" Tim asked, nervously.

Ginny jumped in, "No, lovey, no needles. We'll be there until you're asleep. And then we'll be there, when you wake up."

Tim nodded, looking frightened, "It'll fix me?" he asked.

Ginny bit her lip, but nodded, "It will help you feel better. Your joints should stop hurting and you shouldn't be so tired all the time. Controlling your magic shouldn't be so hard."

Tim nodded, unhappily, but he didn't argue. Harry found himself wishing again for a full blown temper tantrum. That would have been healthier than this false maturity.

Ernie's assistant, Miriam, met them at the door, "Hello, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Potter." she smiled, "Hello, Tim." she bent over to greet him, having met him at one of his previous appointments.

"Hi" he whispered, holding Harry's hand and pushing himself into Harry's leg.

She was an efficient young woman. She riffled through a sheaf of parchments as she walked, leading them to the lift, "We're up on the 6th floor." she said, "I've got all the consents here, for you to sign. Did you have any questions?"

"How long should this take?" asked Ginny.

"We think about an hour, but perhaps two. Healer McMillian is planning on giving Tim enough sedation to last for two hours to be safe. And then he'll be sleepy the rest of the day, I should expect. We'll keep him overnight so we can keep an eye on him." Miriam replied, "He hasn't had anything to eat or drink in the last twelve hours, has he?"

"No."

Miriam marked a little square on her parchment, "Good, we don't want him throwing up." she smiled at Tim, who hid behind Harry.

Harry could feel him trembling, he bent over to ask, "Would you like to be carried?"

Tim nodded, a testament to how frightened he was. He hardly ever let Harry carry him when he was awake. Harry picked him up and the boy hid his face in Harry's shoulder.

They got out on the sixth floor, "We're in procedure room four." Miriam said, indicating the room.

It was a bare room, with a bed, a table for instruments and potions and a set of cabinets that covered the whole back wall. From one of these cabinets, Miriam pulled a hospital gown and placed it on the bed, "Can you get into that, Tim? Just take off your trousers and shirt. You can leave your skivvies on. Hop up on the bed when you're done."

Tim nodded, looking a little relieved. Miriam pulled a curtain around the bed and left Tim to it, aware from past visits that Tim was very averse to receiving help.

"I've got forms for you to sign." said Miriam, putting them on the table and pulling out a quill.

Ginny and Harry signed their way through about twenty forms.

Miriam turned to leave, "Healer McMillian and Healer Jones will be coming to administer the potions, in a minute." she said, "Shouldn't be long, he's the first case of the day."

Harry peeked around the curtain. Tim was sitting on the side of the bed, looking very ill at ease, "Come on, Tim, you'll be better under the covers." said Harry, turning down the bed spread.

Tim crawled under the blanket and lay down. Ginny walked around to the other side and took his hand, "We'll be here when you wake up." she said gently, "And one of us will stay over night with you tonight, okay?"

Tim nodded. Harry took his other hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

A woman healer that Harry hadn't met before came in, "Tim Dawson?" she asked, addressing Tim directly, with a kind smile.

Tim nodded tensely.

"I'm Healer Riahnnon Jones." she said, looking at Harry and Ginny as well, "I'm going to assist Healer McMillian. I specialize in sedative-hypnotics." she looked at three pairs of blank eyes, "Sleeping potions. I'm here to keep you comfortable." she paused, so Tim nodded, "You look really nervous." she said gently, "Would you like an 'I-don't-care' potion? I can give you one now, if you like."

"What's that?" whispered Tim.

She smiled, "It won't put you to sleep, that one comes later. This one is a little stronger than a calming draft. It just makes you not care about anything, until we get to the part where we put you to sleep."

Harry was relieved to see that Healer Jones had worked with children before. Her manner and speech were gentle and she was giving Tim a way to feel in control.

Tim nodded and Healer Jones produced a small vial of purple potion, "It doesn't even taste that bad." she said, smiling.

Tim downed the dose. After a few seconds, he lay back with a sigh.

"Better?" she asked.

Tim nodded, his eyes half closed, "Yeah." he said a little dreamily.

Healer Jones turned to Ginny and Harry, now, "I'm going to be monitoring Tim's state while the potion does it's work." she said, "Ernie's asked me to help because he wants to use anti-convulsants as well as sleeping potions and we don't want him waking up."

Harry and Ginny both nodded, firmly in agreement with this plan.

Someone knocked on the door, "Come." called Healer Jones.

Ernie came in followed by Miriam with a tray of potions, "Hello, Tim." he said, "We met last week."

Tim smiled blearily, "I remember."

Ernie smiled broadly, "I see you've already met Healer Jones."

"Mmm." Tim replied.

"All right. Do you understand what we're doing?" Ginny had told Ernie to make sure he asked Tim this. Tim tended to get very frightened if he didn't know exactly what the healers were going to do.

"Y'r gonna give me a potion t'make me sleep. An' then another one t'fix me." Tim mumbled.

"That's right, sweety." said Healer Jones reaching for one of the potion bottles, "Can you take the first one now?"

Tim nodded, obediently swallowing the potion held to his lips. He was asleep instantly.

"Why don't you and Ginny go on out to the waiting room, now?" said Ernie, "We'll come get you when we take him down to his room."

Harry felt a terrible lurch in his stomach at having to leave Tim, but he knew Ernie was right, he really didn't want to see this next bit. Ginny walked around the bed and took Harry's hand. Before she left, she leaned down and planted a kiss on Tim's forehead.

"Let's go get a cup of tea, first." she said, shakily.

Two hours seemed like an age to Harry and Ginny. Ginny tried to knit, but couldn't keep count. Harry tried to read, but couldn't focus. Conversation seemed to fall flat between them. In the end, they took turns pacing the floor of the waiting room.

At last Miriam appeared.

"Yes?" demanded Ginny.

Miriam smiled, "It went really well. And the initial scans look good."

Harry and Ginny both let out their breath.

"They're moving him down to room 402. It's a private room. You can go down, now." Miriam said.

Harry wouldn't feel happy until he saw Tim for himself. He and Ginny nearly ran to the lift.

They got off on the floor and checked the room first. It was empty, obviously waiting for a patient, but he hadn't arrived yet.

Ginny went to the healer's assistant, stationed at the desk, "Where's Tim Dawson?" she asked.

The witch looked at her charts, "Oh, he should be here by now." she said confused, "Isn't he there?"

"Uh, no." said Harry, nervously.

"Well, that's very funny...doesn't take all that long to bring them down...let me see," she muttered, "Well, according to this, he's already here. Are you sure you've got the right room?"

Later, Harry wouldn't be able to tell what prompted his stomach to turn to ice and send him flying down the stairs, drawing his wand, cursing. Maybe it was Auror's instinct, maybe it was sheer paranoia.

He flashed on the man at the funeral. How quickly Tim's father had been able to find Mary. Tracking spells wouldn't work for either the school or Grimmauld Place, but here..! Tim had been here almost three hours...

All of this raced through his mind as he leapt down the stairs three at a time, his heart about to beat out of his chest, both frustrated by and grateful for the anti apparition wards. He couldn't apparate down to the lobby, but if someone had snatched Tim, they'd have to make it past the wards to apparate themselves away.

He reached the door at the bottom, threw himself into the door, spilling out into the crowded lobby. He took a moment to look around the lobby, for anything out of place. People close to him, looked on in startled confusion.

On the far side, Harry saw a man dressed in the robes of a Healer's assistant hurrying towards the front door. The man glanced behind him and Harry saw he carried a child in his arms. Someone had replaced Tim's hospital gown with pajamas and the boy was sleeping, still.

"Stop him!" bellowed Harry, pointing his wand, he feared to use too strong a jinx, for fear of hitting Tim, "Stupefy!" Someone had the bad fortune to, in their panic, try to run, and collided with Harry's spell.

The man was two steps nearer the door.

"Out of the way! Get down!" roared Harry, leaping over chairs. He couldn't get a good shot in, not without hitting some civilian.

The man was at the door. Harry had covered half the distance to him, "Stupefy!" he tried again, as he dodged around another stupidly staring civilian, hitting and shattering the glass of the door.

Harry put on another burst of speed, and chased the man outside.

Just in time to see him turn in place and disapparate.

Harry stared at the place where the man had been, dumbly. A burning, wrenching pain seized Harry's chest. He fell to his knees.

This was a sensation he'd always been able to sense, waiting just out of sight, from the minute James had been born. This was the feeling Molly had always warded off, every time he and Ron did something stupid. This was the pain that had nearly killed her, in the year after Fred's death.

This is what had made his father face Voldemort alone, all those years ago. This was the sensation that had thrown his mother in front of a killing curse.

Harry couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Harry!"

From the tone of Ginny's voice, she had seen the man disapparate with their son too. He turned to squint up at her, her wand drawn in her shaking hand, "I was too late...Ginny...I'm sorry..." his voice was shaking and didn't sound like his.

"Oh." That single syllable conveyed utter devastation. Ginny had her hand over her mouth, fighting back tears. She knelt down beside him, to put her arms around him, there in the street.

"We'll find him, we'll find him." said Harry in her ear. A mantra against losing his mind to the awful despair that was welling up inside him, "I swear, we'll find him."

Tim woke up, not where he expected to be. It was dark, but he knew by the feel of the blankets covering him that he was not at the Potter's. Someone had been drinking some sort of booze. Tim could smell it, stale and familiar, so it wasn't the hospital.

Keeping very still, as he always did when this sort of thing happened, he lay trying to make his mind catch up to his body. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered had been one of the healers giving him a thick potion and his parents (all right, they weren't his parents, but he liked to pretend), telling him that they'd be there when he woke up.

He heard a light click on. Not a wizard lamp, but an electric light, with a switch. For one mad moment, Tim wondered if he could have dreamed the whole Wizarding World. Perhaps his mum wasn't really dead and she was going to come in and tell him to go to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time his mum had taken him to one of her friend's places and stuck him asleep in the bedroom.

Or even better, perhaps Nana was going to come in and tell him the same thing, but more gently. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep at one of her friend's while they played whist?

No, if it were Nana, he wouldn't be smelling booze. At most, it would be wine or sherry.

The light came in through the half open door of the bedroom he was in, yellow and sickly. He heard the noise of the television. The bed he lay on was wide enough for two, with a few thin blankets. At the bottom of the bed was an old wardrobe. Threadbare brown curtains hung from the windows. The room smelled musty, as if the carpets had gotten wet and not dried out properly.

He could see the loo was through the other door.

He suddenly needed to use it very badly. Stealthily, he slipped off the bed to make use of the toilet.

Whoever was in the next room must have heard him when he flushed, "Boy?" a familiar voice called from the other room.

Tim's blood turned to ice water.

"That you creeping around in there, boy?" The man demanded.

"Y-yes." Tim whispered, deciding it was safest to jump back into bed.

The man opened the door, "Well, 'bout time you woke up." he said heartily, his smile wide, false, and oily. The man dressed like a muggle, but Tim knew, now, that the stick he carried was a wand, and meant he was a wizard.

He was taller than Mr. Potter and Tim knew that his mum had thought the man's blue eyes and dark hair handsome. His dirty jeans and shirt were what he normally wore he came to visit Tim and his mum. Tim used to wonder why the man didn't have more clothes, but Tim now wondered if the rest of his clothes were wizard robes that would stick out too much.

"Took them a while to find me after your mum's accident." he continued cheerfully, "I was away. But they said they told you all about wizards because you had magic. It must have just showed up, then. I thought sure you were a squib."

Tim nodded cautiously, the man seemed happy with the prospect that Tim had magic.

"Well, good. They said it would be best if I picked you up straight from the hospital. Your foster family didn't want a scene, you see." The man went on.

Tim's breath caught in his chest. So, the Potters had gotten tired of him, after all. They had sent a message to his father to come get him. Tim would have preferred an orphanage. Or a squat. Or the street. But no one had ever asked what he'd wanted. Ever.

Tim could feel his breathing speeding up in that alarming way that left him giddy and nauseous. Auntie Ginny wouldn't be coming to rub his back and tell him to slow down. Mr. Potter wouldn't come and wrap him in his arms and sing to him as if he were still little. He should have known better. They had gotten him to trust them, just a little and...

He is lying.

The voice, low, dark and silky, cut through his panic. Slowed Tim's thoughts and his heartbeat. It was a voice Tim had heard many times before. It was this voice that told him when and where to hide. This was the voice that told him to walk (not run) past a vicious dog and what to do when his mum had gotten sick with the booze or the smack. It was the voice that told him to hide his magic from this man and it was the voice that had helped Tim get his wild, uncooperative magic to turn his mother's boyfriend into a cockroach when the man got grabby.

Tim had heard the voice for as long as he could remember. He'd once told Mr Clark about it, who'd told Tim it was only the voice of his own good sense.

Tim's Nana had told him it was his guardian angel, "When you're just little, you can hear it clear. And then it comes clear again, when you're old like me." she'd said, "But it's always there, if you listen hard enough. And it won't ever steer you wrong." she'd said.

Tim liked to picture the angel that went with the voice. He thought that angels were always in white, but he could never picture this voice that way. His angel was tall and thin and dark, dressed in robes of black. He almost always crossed his arms and frowned fiercely. When he told Nana this, she'd laughed and told him she supposed that angels could look like anything they wanted to, "Maybe your angel needs to be fierce." she'd said after a moment of thought.

He is lying , the voice repeated, And he has stolen you

Tim thought of Auntie Ginny. How she was like Nana; easy to predict and gentle. How she already knew what his favorite foods were and she was teaching him to knit. How she showed him how witches and wizards really did ride on brooms, like in stories. How she made sure he understood what the healers were going to do before they did it. How she'd held his hand through his mum's funeral. How she didn't seem to mind if he woke her up at night with his bad dreams.

Tim thought of Lily. How she still liked him even when he shouted at her. How she ate her lunch with him at school, without ever complaining that he was a tagalong. How she made him laugh even when he didn't think he ever could again.

Tim though of Al and James who were so big, but who wanted to teach him to play Quidditch. Al was teaching him wizard chess and James had talked him into taking a ride by himself on Lily's broom.

Tim thought of Mr. Potter, who was a little scary at first (although the voice had told him there was, really, nothing to fear). Mr. Potter was different from most of the men Tim had ever known and he was some sort of cop. Tim had tiptoed around, waiting for an explosion that never came.

Mr. Potter liked chase around on a broomstick with the kids in the orchard, when he got the chance, and had taken Tim on rides on his broomstick. When he drank booze, it seemed like he could stop at one and it never made him mean. He seldom got more than annoyed, so far as Tim could see. He never raised hand or wand to Tim, Auntie Ginny, Lily or even Al and James who were as big as their father. He never teased Tim for being afraid of things and he had never lied to Tim, as far as Tim knew.

Yes, the voice was right. This man, this...what had Mum called the man that made him use his wand on her?...this sperm donor had stolen Tim from the family that wanted him.

Do not give him reason to harm you.

That made sense. He would find out where he was first, then make a plan. Tim plastered on a smile. The smarmy one, that had fooled so many teachers, cops and social workers, "Oh, Father!" he gushed (his mother had taught him to call the man this. She said he was "old fashioned"), "I'm so glad you came for me."

"So, you're glad to see me, then? Not happy with those posh buggers?" Tim thought the man looked a little suspicious as he said this.

Tim hastened to put him at ease, "Oh no, Father. It's not like they were really my family." Tim took a breath, "And it's not like they were all that good to me either." he said, allowing his face to fall.

That made the smile reach the man's eyes and the hand on his wand relax fractionally, "Oh, yeah?"

Tim nodded soberly, "I had to help the house elf, in the kitchen." this was true, Tim had spent several happy hours learning to make scones with Kreacher. "And they made me sleep in a cupboard. U-under the stairs." Tim hesitated over that detail. He'd read it in that book Mr. Potter had left lying around. Most of it hadn't been very interesting, but the bits about "The Boy" had caught Tim's attention, "Mr. Potter's ever so strict."

The man didn't notice Tim's hesitation. He was pleased that Tim was talking badly about the Potters, Tim could tell, "Well, that's over now. We'll stay here for a few days, just till you get your strength, then we'll move on." the man stopped for a moment, "What were you in hospital for, anyway? They-ah-forgot to tell me."

"Tonsils." said Tim, quickly. He didn't want to talk about the potion to the man who'd made him need it. He knew that several of his classmates in muggle school had had to go to hospital for tonsils (whatever they were).

The man nodded, seemingly satisfied, "Go on, back to sleep, then."

Tim hesitated. It was dark, he must have been here for hours. He hadn't eaten since the night before St. Mungo's "Um. I'm hungry." he said softly. He couldn't help but wonder why the man wanted him around, since he didn't seem interested in looking after him.

He sees you as his property. As he saw your mother.

The man rolled his eyes, as if he hadn't considered that, "I dunno what we got...Go look in the box." Tim remembered that the man often seemed to call things by odd names, as if he didn't know what they were really called. It made sense, now that Tim knew what he really was.

Tim got off the bed, walked into the other room, taking in the flat. It was just two rooms with a little tiny kitchenette. The fridge held sour milk, and not much else. He looked in the cupboard, there was a box of cereal.

"Not much here." Tim told the man quietly, he took a glass off the draining board, dragged a chair over to the sink and filled the glass up with water from the tap. He was very thirsty.

"You know how to do the thing with the phone your Mum did?" asked the man.

Thing with the phone?

"You mean order a pizza?" asked Tim, as he drained his glass.

The man nodded, "I got some muggle money. This enough?" he held out a fifty pound note.

Tim nodded. A pizza was about ten pounds. Maybe he could pocket the change. It seemed like money would help him get home once he escaped from here. Maybe he could pay some poor jonesing junkie to take him to take him somewhere.

"Go on then." said the man.

Tim stared at the phone, wishing the Potters had one. It was an old fashioned phone, with a cord connecting it to its' cradle. Tim wondered where they were. The phone and electric was on, so it wasn't a squat. The man seemed ill at ease here though, and there was nothing to indicate the man actually lived here. Perhaps it was one of those flats people rented by the week? Tim and his mum had stayed in one of those a couple of times.

"Where should I tell them to bring it?" asked Tim.

The man rattled off an address.

Tim found a phone book on a shelf under the table the phone was on. It was a London phone book. Tim considered dialing 999. He'd done that once when one of his mum's friends had gotten too sick. They'd taken him back to Nana's that night because they were taking his mum to jail. Tim didn't put much trust in the cops after that (he didn't mind going back to Nana's, but they didn't need to put his mum in jail. She'd gone up for a couple months that time). But he could get them to call Mr. Barton. He could tell them that Mr. Barton was his case worker.

Another thing to consider; the man was a wizard. He'd probably kill all the cops and then Tim would never get another chance to escape him. The man wasn't like Tim's mum's boyfriends. Tim couldn't just hide until he went off on a nod.

We need to call for help, the voice whispered in Tim's head, Wizard help

Tim thought about that as he searched through the phone book for the phone number of the pizza place. He ordered a pizza and a bottle of lemonade. Two of the few things he missed from the muggle world. He ordered the largest one they had, reckoning he'd want breakfast.

Tim remembered one morning at the school with Lily. It had been a chaotic morning and Tim had forgotten his lunch. He was most upset with himself and he didn't like to ask Miss Clearwater to call the Potters for it. "Just call Kreacher." Lily had said, when he'd explained it, "He'll hear you wherever you are."

It had worked, that day. Kreacher had popped in, bringing the forgotten lunch and being gone before Tim had to tell anyone at school, other than Lily, that he'd forgotten it.

Softly, he used the sound of putting down the phone to cover his whisper, "Kreacher? I need some help."

Within five minutes of summoning him, Ron appeared at Harry and Ginny's side. Within ten minutes, the hospital was locked down and crawling with Aurors. Within fifteen minutes, Ron was reading several someones the riot act regarding security. Within thirty minutes, they'd found two staff that had been positively identified as the last to see Tim.

It appeared that once Tim had been pronounced stable by Ernie and Rhiannon, they had gone on to their next case, leaving the boy with the assistants. The assistants had gotten ready to move him down to his room; it was in the hallway that everyone had lost track of him. His paperwork was taken to the floor by one of the assistants and the other believed that the man who'd offered to take Tim was one of the staff assigned to patient transport. After some questioning, she admitted that he had assured her that she didn't need to accompany him, given that she must be very busy.

"So, did you look at his identification?" demanded Ron, sharply.

"No...I-I" the assistant was an apprentice healer, perhaps twenty years old. Usually, she was a pretty young woman, but now her her eyes were swollen with crying, "I just assumed...he was in a uniform...I just...he seemed to know what he was doing." she stopped and gave a little sob, mopping her streaming eyes, "He was wearing a nametag, but I-I didn't read the name."

Ordinarily, Harry might have told Ron to ease up on his hostile questioning. Now, he found himself just listening, intently.

They sat in Ernie's office, which he had turned over to the Aurors as soon as Ron had asked. Several other Auror's were rounding up witnesses and bringing them to be questioned.

"So, you hand an unconscious child over to someone unfamiliar to you? Without even looking at him properly? Is this what you normally do?" Ron went on.

"I-I...Well...Yes. I suppose I thought I'd seen him before...I can't spend all day checking the credentials of the transport staff." she said, suddenly indignant, through her tears, "What am I supposed to do, ask for everyone, down to thecleaning staff's identification?"

"Maybe, you're supposed to see that your patient actually gets to where he's supposed to go!" shouted Ernie at her, "Not hand him off, so you can take an early break!" Ernie had finished up with his next case, as soon as he was safely able and come out to join Ron in questioning the witnesses.

"I never did! Miriam..." the apprentice started.

"Was speaking to the Potters, as I'd told her to." Ernie said in a hard tone of voice, "Perhaps you need to decide whether you have the commitment to this profession that you need, Susan."

"Ernie." said Harry dully, "It's not her fault. I should have..."

Ron gave Harry a sharp look, "Don't be daft, you shouldn't have to supply security for your own sick child."

"Yes, but I knew..." Harry trailed off bleakly. He knew he shouldn't have left. They'd been bringing Tim back and forth from here for weeks. The man had every chance to plan. He could have snagged a uniform from the laundry. He could have read the child's chart, standing behind one of the assistants or apprentices. He could have walked about the place freely, carrying a mop. Harry knew better. He should have stood outside the door with his wand drawn. He should have...

"Stop, Harry. That won't help." Ron said, wearily, "Listen, I reckon you and Ginny should go home. We'll finish the investigation here and start the search. Hermione's over at the Muggle Liason Office, pulling every record of where Tim's ever been found with his mum and starting a search with the Muggle law enforcement. We've put it out that he's armed. They're to contact us if they're seen. You go on and I'll call you as soon as we hear..."

Harry started shaking his head, standing up, "No, Ron, I'll come with..."

Ron stood to, put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "No, mate." he said, firmly, catching Harry's eyes, "You need to stay with Ginny. She needs you. And so will the children, later."

Harry opened his mouth to object.

"Harry. I swear we'll call you, as soon as we catch the bastard." Ron said, never taking his eyes away from Harry's, "But you're no good in this state." he said honestly, "I wouldn't be either, if it were my kid."

Harry realized Ron was right. He had no business in this search. He'd only be a loose wand.

"When we find him, I'll call you. Right? I know you'll want to come get Tim yourself, but let us handle the wizard."

Harry closed his eyes, sat down with his face in his hands.

Ron dismissed the apprentice, telling her to give her information to the Auror outside, and make sure she was available for further questioning. Harry heard Ron mutter something to Ernie. Harry heard Ernie's footsteps leave the room and then the door shut.

"You tried your tracking spells?" asked Ron into the quiet room.

Harry nodded without lifting his head, "Yeah. I've got nothing."

"Shit. How do you suppose he cancelled them?"

Harry sat up, leaned against the wall, "The adoption's not final. Won't be, for months. His father's" Harry lingered bitterly over the word, "Magic is going to trump mine, isn't it?"

Ron let out a long sigh, "That's why the hospital wards didn't stop him leaving, then."

The door opened. Ginny came in. Her face was dry of tears and there were two angry spots of color on her cheeks.

"I slapped that stupid little cow." Ginny said flatly "She was out there whinging that you were nasty to her."

Ron reached out and hugged his sister.

She hugged him back briefly, before pushing him away, "I'm all right, Ron." she said, in an emotionless voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ron said softly, "Listen, I want you two to head home. Hermione will meet you there."

Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged, took her hand.

"All right, then." Ginny said.

The three of them left the office together. The hospital's regular business had been suspended for the day. This was the first breach in hospital security they'd had in twenty years. Many of the staff were too young to really remember the War.

"I'm walking the Potters out to the apparition point." Ron told one of the Aurors who was guarding the now-repaired front door.

The man nodded, "We'll find your boy, Mr. Potter. Don't worry." he said to Harry.

Harry nodded, thinking distantly that the young man could do with some more training. One just didn't give guarantees like that to the victim's family.

Nothing felt very real to Harry; arriving home, walking through the door, explaining to the distraught house elf what had happened. He moved through a thick fog of shock. Automatically he walked up the stairs to the drawing room and sat down. Ginny followed him.

"What are we going to tell the children?" asked Ginny quietly.

"I-I don't know." admitted Harry, "I suppose we don't need to tell them anything for a bit. Lily's already headed to the Burrow for the night..."

"It'll be in the Prophet by tomorrow." said Ginny softly, "We can't let them find out that way."

Harry sighed, "All right, but, let's leave it until tonight...I can't...not right now."

The door opened and shut, "Harry? Ginny?" called Hermione from downstairs.

"Up here." called Ginny.

Hermione came into the room, breathing hard, from running up the stairs, "We've started looking ...The muggle police have put out a Child Alert. We've put it out that's its a custodial kidnapping."

Harry just nodded. Ginny and Hermione talked to each other, but Harry let his attention wander. He wanted something to do. He wanted to be out there looking for the boy, not trapped here. He started pacing again.

He kept coming back to the profound sense of betrayal the child would feel when he woke. Harry's stomach twisted into a hot knot of pain. He'd just sensed Tim starting to trust them, wholeheartedly and now...

A knock at the front door startled all of them. After a moment, Dudley came into the room, following Kreacher who was eyeing him suspiciously.

"Dudley?" said Harry blankly.

"I came as soon as I heard, Harry." Dudley said worriedly.

"How did you hear..?"

Hermione said, "I told you Harry, we've got the muggle police involved. Dudley is listed as Tim's case worker, so they'll call him if-when they find him."

Dudley pulled out his mobile, "It'll work here, will it?"

Hermione took it, tapped it with her wand, "Now it will, I've shielded it against magic. The charm won't last, but it'll keep it from blowing up today."

"Thank you."

Dudley nodded, sat himself down near Hermione, "The police have been told that it's a custodial kidnapping. Which it is I suppose, and that the father's off his nut. They won't approach him themselves, they're to wait for backup. But," Dudley looked uncomfortable, "How do we know they're still in the country? COuldn't he have just," Dudley snapped his fingers, "Disappeared himself and the boy?"

Hermione shook her head, "Apparition is only good for short distances. And there hasn't been any unregistered port key activity since the boy disappeared. We've looked. The only other way he could have taken the boy would be flight or floo. We're monitoring the Floo Network and Tim's in no condition to ride a broom or anything like that. OUr guess is that he's gone to ground, hoping he can slip out through muggle London.

Harry heard all this, through the thick fog of emotion surrounding him. He couldn't settle down. The three others carried on their conversation, but his pacing continued, until Ginny snapped, "Harry, for god's sake, stop."

"What else am I supposed to do?" he demanded, flaring up.

"Just-just stop. Please. For five minutes." Ginny sounded close to tears.

Harry expelled all the breath from his lungs as though he'd been punched in the stomach, "Ginny..." he sat down next to her. He went to put his arms around her, but she waved him off, her mouth twisted. Harry understood, if she let him hug her, she'd cry. If she cried, she might not stop. Instead he patted her hand and left it at that.

"Why do you suppose he wants Tim?" asked Ginny after taking a few deep breaths.

Dudley sighed, "If this were a normal custodial thing, I'd tell you it was because the father thinks the boy is his property. People like this are often very keen on their rights and privilidges but not so eager about their responsibilities. They don't see their families as people, but as so much chattel. I don't know if it works the same with wizards."

"It more or less does." sighed Hermione.

The afternoon wore away with no word. Ron popped in for a moment to tell them that there was nothing to tell, yet. Harry didn't have much to say and it felt surreal to have Dudley there, offering consolation. Dudley treaded very carefully, Harry noticed.

Harry tried to activate his tracking spells on Tim, several times, but no joy.

Sometime past dinner time, Kreacher came into the room, his eyes gleaming, "Master Harry?" he said in his bull-frog croak, "Little Master Tim has called for Kreacher."

Harry and Ginny both started to their feet, "Oh, clever boy!" exclaimed Ginny, "I didn't think he'd know to do that!"

"Shall Kreacher go fetch Little Master Tim?"

"No, Kreacher." replied Harry firmly, "It might be dangerous." At last, at last he had some way of finding his son. He raised his wand and summoned his invisibility cloak "You take me there and then you come back here and lead Ron and whatever others he got with them there." Harry summoned a Patronus, sending him out to find Ron and pass on the message.

"Harry. Be careful." Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him for luck, "Come home safe."

"I'll get him, Ginny." Harry assured her, "Kreacher, take me just outside of the place, I don't want to be dueling over Tim's head. And if something happens to me..." Harry hesitated over the stricken look in Dudley's face, but it didn't matter, "Stay with Tim, don't lose where he is, not matter where his father takes him." Harry had spent the day kicking himself that he'd not asked Kreacher to keep track of Tim like that before.

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak over himself, "All right Kreacher, let's go."

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.

Cold, dark water had closed over Harry's head and the Horcrux around his neck dragged him down further. The gillyweed had worn off, his gills disappearing at the end of an hour, to be replaced by lungs that were useless at the bottom of the lake.

He couldn't remember who he was looking for, but he had the idea that they were already safe, so it didn't matter, after all. If his chest would stop its' stupid demands for oxygen, he'd be fine.

Was he in the lake? Or was it a forest pool?

"Harry?" someone was talking to him. Ron, maybe? "If you can hear me, you'll probably feel some discomfort."

Fuck, yes. He heard himself coughing and the coughing caused blue sparks to explode into pain behind his eyes. Thick fluid, tasting of blood, was in his mouth, but then it went away. More coughing.

"Damn it, keep his airway clear." No, that wasn't Ron's voice, but Harry's head hurt too much to for him to consider opening his eyes "What a mess." someone was saying.

"He's got a collapsed lung. Can we decompress it?"

"No, because someone vanished bloody great chunks of it. Shit, we're going to have to regrow it. Fortunately, the other one's intact." Harry was reassured by that voice, he sounded competent. Or perhaps Harry only chose to be reassured.

"What should I tell the wife? She's out there, doing her nut." Hopefully, Ginny wasn't alone as she waited.

The competent voice replied, "It's a nasty repair job, but he's not in too much danger. I'll talk to her when I'm done with this."

Wonderful. He'd been doing something stupid again. Harry hoped Ginny wasn't going to be too angry with him.

"Let's get some..." the voices faded away as the dark water closed over Harry's head again.

Some time later, Harry felt someone take something flexible out of his mouth.

"Harry, if you can hear me, I need you to take a deep breath."

Doing as he was told, Harry was strangely surprised that it was so effortless. It felt so good, he took another one.

"That's great, Harry. I'm going to put you back to sleep now, but the worst is over. Right?"

Harry thought he grunted acknowledgment, but he couldn't be sure.

Uneasy dreams half woke him, later. He tried to turn over to go back to sleep, discovered he couldn't move. He started to panic, thrashing as much as he was able against the spell holding him still.

"Calm down. It's okay." A warm hand on his arm, "The healers don't want you moving about."

That was Ron's voice for sure this time. Harry dragged his eyes open, but the room was dim and fuzzy, "Ron?" no sound was forthcoming.

"You can't talk for a bit." the fuzzy figure raised his wand, "Finite."

With gratitude Harry clenched his fists, released them. "Thanks." he mouthed.

"Just don't fall out of bed and get me in trouble." Ron grumbled.

Nodding, Harry closed his eyes.

Voices were talking near his head.

"...not happy with you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't reckon a panic attack would be much good for his breathing, either."

Someone chuckled, "No, certainly not."

The door opened and shut. Harry slowly opened his eyes. Brought up one hand to rub them, grateful that he could still move.

"You want these?" Ron asked, handing him his glasses.

"Thanks." this time the sound was audible. Now with his glasses on he could see that he was in one of St. Mungo's private rooms. Ron had his chair pulled up next to the bed and apparetnly been there for some time, going by the stack of magazines sitting beside him.

"Is Tim all right?" Harry asked, the phrase coming out as a croak. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, mate, he's fine. Ginny's got him. Healer's let him go home last night." Ron smiled at him.

That was all right, then. Everything else was a mere item, "So, are you to stop me getting out, or them getting in?" asked Harry, hoarsely.

Ron looked at him gravely, "What do you mean?"

Harry looked over to the bedside table, relaxing when he saw his wand, "Not under arrest, then?"

Ron shook his head, "There's an enquirey, but you slept through most of it. Roz'll be in in a bit. The healer's just gone to tell her you're waking up." Ron shook his head, "You were lucky, again. I expect Smith bought that shit about you being immune to the killing curse. Course, if he'd hit you directly, you'd be just as dead."

"What'd he hit me with?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Vanished half of one of your lungs. The rest of it collapsed. They've been regrowing it for the past three days. If you hadn't've dodged when you did..." Ron shuddered.

"Oh." Harry sort of remembered Ron dosing him with some painkillers, after Ginny had taken Tim away. And then some medi-wizards apparating in. A lot of things were pretty fuzzy from the moment Smith hit him with a curse. It had gotten hard to breathe about then. Losing half a lung would explain why.

Hitting Smith with the killing curse was absolutely crystal clear, though. In Harry's memory, it happened so slowly and Tim was so fast. Tim was as far from Smith as the room allowed and Harry had pointed his wand; it took forever. Harry had fallen to the ground with the incantation, laying on the floor trying to recover his breath.

Tim's little voice had been hysterical with fear and grief, "Ohnononono! Dad! Don'tbedeaddon'tbedeadpleasenoplease!" the words had run together, as all of Tim's speech had, when he'd first come to the Potter's.

Harry had pulled himself up, to look into the child's eyes and beg his forgiveness. In that moment, Harry had wondered if he could talk the Ministry into finding some Dementors just to guard Harry's cell. He had killed the only father the child had known, never mind that the man had tried to kill Harry. A moment of pain, of panic, of anger, and Tim's father lay dead on the floor.

"Tim..." Harry remembered pulling himself up, "I'm sorry."

Tim had thrown himself into Harry's arms, completely surprising him, with a long string of invective that the boy must have learned god-knows-where, ending rather amazingly with, "Oh fuck, Dad, I thought you were dead."

"So, I'm not under arrest?" asked Harry again, stupidly, coming back to the present.

Ron chuckled, grimly "I knew you'd be like that. No, Tim's testimony was pretty coherent. Roz questioned him herself. Ginny insisted. I have to say, that potion did him good. I haven't seen him so talkative before."

"What'd he say?" asked Harry. "I'm fuzzy on everything after I lost a lung."

"He said that, after Smith finished you, he took a bite out of him and ran when Smith let go of him. Clever move." Ron said approvingly. He went on, "Tim said he got as far as the wall and turned around to see Smith raising his wand, starting an incantation. Then you hit Smith. End of story."

Had Smith raised his wand to the boy? Harry couldn't quite remember. He supposed hypoxia would do that to a person, "They don't want pensieved memories or anything?" A pensieve would enhance memories to show the finer details, missed by simple recollection.

"No," Ron shook his head dismissively, "It's pretty obvious from your state that Smith was out to kill. And Tim said that he believed from things Smith said, before you got there, that he was in mortal peril. So, it's being ruled a lawful killing."

"Oh." Harry sat with that, for a moment. It sat uneasily.

"Phoebe's handled the debriefing of everyone else there." Ron continued, more softly, "Roz wants you to talk to her as soon as you feel able." Ron shifted uncomfortably, "Roz. She's...ah...she's extended your leave indefinitely."

Erica Roslyn was the current head of the Auror's Department, commonly referred to by her nickname, Roz. She was about ten years older than Ron and Harry. She'd been a bright young Auror before the War and had been on the run during, being a muggle-born.

During the War and for about three years afterwards, she'd worked as an Auror in a country that had much closer ties between muggle and wizard. When she'd returned to the UK, she'd risen rapidly through the decimated ranks and brought a host of new ideas to the department. One of those ideas was that they should look after their people mentally. One of the reasons Harry had started seeing Phoebe, in the first place.

Harry nodded, "That's fine." it was, really. Harry hadn't felt so wrung out in years.

"Hey, Harry." the door opened, Roz came in, "How're you feeling?" she asked. She was a tall woman, who often accentuated her height with high heeled boots since she was promoted from field duty. She liked to wear dramatic, long cloaks over trousers. Today she was in a grey cloak, with matching boots. Her hair was grey streaked brown, cut short and stylishly. With her strong jaw, when she had been younger, she was a woman one would have called handsome, rather than pretty. She sometimes reminded Harry of a young Minerva McGonagol (not that he'd tell either of them that).

"Hi, Roz." Harry said tiredly, "I feel like I just regrew half a lung."

Ron got up and offered his chair to Roz, "I'll go find Ginny, shall I?"

"Yes, that's fine. I won't take long." replied Roz, sounding a bit grim. She declined to take the seat, making Harry wonder how bad it could be. She turned to Harry as Ron left, "Well, Harry, I have to say, this could have gone better." she looked at him sternly, increasing her resembelance to Minerva, "I'm not thrilled you decided to freelance."

Harry sighed, "I wasn't freelancing. Kreacher had to bring the information to me directly. I notified the head of the investigation and I went to stake the place out. I only intervened when it started to..." he swallowed, "Get ugly."

"So you did not go to the scene with the intention of taking care of things yourself?" she asked, archly. Harry wished she'd take the seat Ron had vacated, he didn't appreciate her looming over him like that, while he was flat on his back.

"I acted according to procedure." replied Harry, stiffly.

"And in your professional opinion, you intervened appropriately?"

"God, Roz. I don't know...Tim's safe, and that's all that matters. I just...Smith's dead..." Harry coughed, looked away from Roz's sharp eyes, "I wish I could change that...But I thought...I thought he was going to kill the child."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." said Roz dryly, "Fortunately for you, Tim was able to give evidence that he was in danger before you even arrived. Also, given that Smith matches the description of Mary Dawson's murderer, it's fair to say that he was correct."

"Smith didn't hurt him, did he?" asked Harry anxiously.

Roz shook her head, "He's fine." she said. "Now, we can do a disciplinary hearing before the Wizengamot if you like, or you can waive it and I can take care of this tonight. If you do a hearing, the press will get involved, though."

Harry closed his eyes, "What are the complaints?"

"Well, since you were hurt first, and the witness has testified that the other wizard raised his wand again, the use of the killing curse was ruled lawful. But you are on administrative leave until Phoebe clears you for field duty. And you're going to need some retraining, but that's procedure. The actual complaint is going to a crime scene where you have a clear conflict of interest."

"There wasn't time." replied Harry opening his eyes, "What was I supposed to do, send my house elf?" he said scornfully, "I sent Ron a Patronus, as soon as I knew."

Roz's mouth might have twitched at the house elf comment, "So, you're waiving your right to hearing?"

"Yeah, go on." Harry said irritably. Chances were he was going to regret it but he was too tired and stressed to care.

"Hold out your wand hand." Said Roz, solemnly.

Confused, Harry did so. Roz tapped the back of his hand with her wand.

Absolutely nothing happened.

"What the hell, Roz?" asked Harry, mystified.

"That, my friend, is what they call in the business, 'a slap on the wrist'." She looked less stern, now. "I just needed to have your testimony to corroborate reasonable use of force." She leaned forward to squeeze his shoulder. Harry remembered that she had killed someone in the course of her duties, years ago.

Finally, she took the empty chair "I also have a suggestion for you. I got an owl a couple of days ago, there's some call for an Auror consultant at my old office."

"South America?" the topic change was a little fast

"The Caribbean. How's your French?"

"Not too bad. Why?"

"Well you remember that dark wizard, Duvalier? The Haitians finally put the bastard away for good, but their magical law enforcement is where we were after the War. How about I lend you to them for a bit?"

"Instead of administrative leave?"

Roz nodded, "Think about it. It'll take you out of the line of fire for a while. That'll make Ginny happy. No rush, you can finish out your original leave, if you like."

"What if I just want to retire altogether, and write my memoirs?"

"Then I want an autographed copy.

Another knock at the door, "You done with him, Roz?" asked Ginny, opening the door.

"I am." she smiled, "And there's my sweet lad," she said fondly to the little boy who was clinging to Ginny's hand.

Tim smiled shyly at Roz, "Hello, Miss Roz." he said.

Roz crouched on the floor to give him a hug, "Told you he'd be fine, didn't I?" Harry heard her whisper.

"You bring him round the office," Roz said to Harry, when she stood up, "He said he wanted to see where you work."

"Still have a job then?" asked Harry.

"When you're ready to have it back." nodded Roz. She hugged Ginny, then Harry and left, closing the door behind her.

"Harry? How're you feeling?" Ginny said, softly. Her eyes were misty and the hand that reached out to him was cold, "I was worried."

"I'm all right. But more importantly, How're you lot?" Harry asked, his eyes settling on Tim.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that something had changed with the child. He was standing differently, and his blue eyes were somehow more present. He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes though. When he saw that Harry was looking at him, he wiped his nose on his sleeve and hid behind Ginny's hip.

Ginny put her hand on the boy's head, "It's been a difficult couple of days." she admitted, tears starting to fall.

"Aw, Ginny." Harry drew her to him and hugged her hard. He felt her shaking, as she got his shoulder all wet. Typical Ginny, she kept everything together until the crisis was over. When it was safe she let it out.

"Where's Lily?" asked Harry, after a minute when Ginny's tremors stilled.

"Eleanor's" said Tim. Even his voice was stronger, more certain.

Harry had no idea how Tim might be reacting. Harry wasn't sure what was normal or anything.

Ginny gave another sniff, pulling herself together, "Sorry. I've just been worried. Lily will be back after dinner. She wants to see you as soon as she can. And the boys are coming down tomorrow."

Harry looked at her blankly, "It's Saturday, tomorrow." said Ginny, "I didn't think it made any sense for them to come down when you were out of it."

Ginny sat down on the bed, "Move over."

Harry did, happy that she was here at last.

Ginny patted the bed next to her. Tim tentatively climbed up. Still not looking at Harry.

Looking significantly at Harry, Ginny said, "I need to ask the healers when you can come home. Tim, can you stay here for a moment?"

Tim really didn't want to. Everything about him tensed, reminding Harry sharply of when Hermione had brought the child to the house. But he nodded, "All right, Auntie Ginny."

It was an awkward moment, "How are you doing?" asked Harry softly, as soon as Ginny was gone.

Tim shrugged, "Better, I think."

Harry took a deep breath, into his new lung, "Tim, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" asked Tim, looking at him, at last. His eyes were alarmed.

"I'm sorry that...that you had to go through all that." Harry winced, at his own words. Coward. Try again, "I'm sorry I didn't protect you well enough. That he was able..."

Tim shrugged, again, as he always did to cover what he was feeling, "He's gone now, isn't he?" Tim's eyes settled on his hands again, "You killed him."

There was no accusation in the boy's voice. No horror, or grief, just a flat acceptance.

Harry's eyes began to prickle, "I'm sorry."

The boy's eyes were bright as they came back to look into Harry's, "Did you mean it?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"Mean...what?"

"Did-did you mean that I was y-your son?" Tim demanded, "When you got there...y-you said..." his voice was shaking.

An ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury stopped Harry's voice for a second. He coughed, "Listen to me," he said, thickly, when he could speak around the lump in his throat, "There are a lot of things in this world I'd die for." Harry would tell him about that, maybe, one day, "But you, your sister and your brothers are the only thing I'd kill for."

Tim stared at Harry, looking a little frightened, perhaps because of the ferocity in Harry's tone. After a moment in which he seemed to take in the words, he leaned his head into Harry's shoulder and cried.

It wasn't too long before Ginny came back, smiling as she found Harry and Tim, both asleep.

Golden sunlight reflected off the surface of the lake, warm on Harry's face. The black marble was also warmed by the sunlight. It was very comfortable to lean his back against the warmth as he sat on the green grass. In his lap, a cloak wrapped around him securely, a little blond boy breathed lightly in his sleep. Dozily, Harry wondered if it was worth the effort to call on Kreacher to bring him a butterbeer.

Ginny, James, Lily and Al were playing a game of two-a-side Quidditch, in the clear spot on the edge of the lake. They were keeping closer to the ground than they usually did, probably because Ginny knew that he was watching. Kindly avoiding giving Harry (with his new lung) heart failure.

Harry closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. He felt a shadow fall across him, "Don't wake him." Harry said softly to whoever, "He needs the sleep."

"Given the amount of sleeping draft the healers have spelled into both of you, I doubt a nuclear blast would wake either." replied a voice sarcastically.

Harry opened his eyes. Severus Snape's unmistakable sillouette occluded the light. "May I join you?" the man asked with remarkable civility.

"Uh, I suppose," Harry squinted up at him.

"This is rather idyllic." Snape remarked, sitting on the ground next to Harry, careful to not disturb the sleeping child. Like the last time Harry had seen him, this was a younger version of Snape than Harry had ever met in life. The hooked nose and black hair were the same, but the face less sallow, healthier, less lined and careworn.

"If I'm dead, don't mention it to me for a couple thousand years, right?" Harry remarked lazily, he assumed he was sleeping if Snape was here, but it could be that he had died.

"Is this Heaven to you then, Potter?" asked Snape, seriously.

Harry turned his head. As he had in other encounters, he examined the Potion Master's face for mockery. Finding none, he replied, "Probably." he said slowly, considering, "I wouldn't mind finding my parents here, if that were the case."

Snape shrugged. He looked very comfortable as he sat with arms resting on bent knees, hands clasped in front of him, in his usual robes of black. With his habitual white shirt that he wore under his robe, he looked a bit like someone mourning their wife. The effect was subtle, a shirt collar was not the same as a white cravat, but it was similiar to what a widowed wizard might wear in the years after his spouses death if he'd never married. Harry wondered if it was Snape's way of continuing to mourn Lily.

The tall wizard pointed his chin towards the little Quidditch game, "There are James Potter and Lily Evans. Right there."

Harry smiled, "Yeah. And Fred. Molly says that, too. She says that she can see her brothers or her parents, in the children sometimes, as well. And Teddy's the dead spit of Remus, some days."

"Indeed." Snape replied with his mouth quirking up.

"What do you want?" asked Harry, after they'd sat in the sun for a long time, "Unless, it's just to enjoy the day I've dreamed up." The boy in Harry's lap moved a little in his sleep. Harry rubbed the boy's shoulder and he sighed, drifting more deeply asleep.

It was very difficult to be worried about anything at the moment.

"It is a lovely day." agreed Snape.

"What the hell are the healers giving me that I'm dreaming about discussing the weather with you?" asked Harry, idly, not really sure if he wanted an answer.

Snape smirked, "Sleeping draft with something for anxiety, given how relaxed you are. They can't keep giving you Dreamless Sleep, but I'm sure the healers don't want you injuring that new lung tissue with reacting to nightmares."

That made sense. Probably the healer had explained all of this to him.

"How are you feeling?" asked Snape solicitously.

"They appear to be keeping me very comfortable if you're asking me that." Harry quipped, "I supposed you'll turn into a Cheshire cat any second."

"In your state, it would be a hookah-smoking-caterpillar." snorted the man.

"Did you just make a joke?" asked Harry, "I'll have to ask them to decrease the dosage."

Snape looked at him a bit sourly. That was better.

The child with his head in Harry's lap shifted a little restlessly, again, before opening his eyes, "Hello." he whispered, rubbing one of them with his hand.

"Hello." replied Harry, smiling down at him, "Have a good sleep?"

Tim nodded, yawned, sat up.

Snape stared at the child with the oddest expression on his face.

The child looked back at the professor with an expression that seemed to precisely mirror the man's, "Hello," he said.

To Harry's surprise, Snape smiled at the boy, curiously gentle, "Hello, little one. How are you feeling?"

The dream Tim showed none of the reticence the real Tim showed around men he didn't know. Rather he looked delighted to be in the presence of the man who was known to make even third years cry. He touched Snape's hand as if to reassure himself. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yes." Snape replied, in a kinder voice than any Harry had ever heard him use.

"So, am I dreaming you or are you dreaming me?" Harry asked Dream-Tim, amused.

Snape turned his gaze back to Harry's face. It was he who answered, "Perhaps a little of both." he said seriously.

"Do you know him, Mr. Potter?" asked Tim, "I thought he was just mine."

"I am yours, child. I just wanted a word with Mr. Potter." Snape's baritone was soft, "You should go back to sleep. It's very late."

"But, it's afternoon." replied the boy, looking around.

"Only in Mr. Potter's mind."

"Oh." replied Tim, as though the conversation made sense..

"Come here, child." Snape held out his arms.

Tim held out his own arms and was curled up on the man's shoulder before Harry could stop him, Tim's blonde hair mingling with Snape's black

Definitely, Harry needed to talk to the healers about reducing the dosage of whatever they were giving him.

"You used the killing curse, Mr. Potter." said Snape flatly, now that he had the sleeping Tim nestled firmly against him.

Harry looked away, "Yeah. Surprised that you're not Smith coming to haunt me. Although, I suppose that's why they're worried about me having nightmares."

"Mm." agreed Snape, "Curious that you never used that against the Dark Lord."

"I was seventeen. There are loads of things I couldn't imagine myself doing at seventeen that I find myself quite capable of doing now. I suppose everyone's like that." replied Harry. Although the sleeping draft prevented him from getting too upset, he felt a distant ache.

"Some of us are quite the opposite." Snape stroked the head of the child, "I suppose it's the old adage about one only being able to understand one's life in hindsight."

There was a little silence between them. Harry watched Ginny and the children play their game some more.

"Have you spoken to Molly about it?" Snape said suddenly, "I imagine she might have something to say. Perhaps, her grief after the War had as much to do with the blood on her hands as it did with her son."

"I'd thought about it."

"I notice Miss Roslyn was very helpful to you." Snape observed, "She was one of my favorite students, you know, when I was her head of house. Intelligent. Patient. Skilled at potions. The only muggle-born sorted into Slytherin that year. She was determined that she would be the best witch in her year. She was very quiet about it though. She didn't have Miss Granger's irritating habit of flaunting her intelligence and seeking approval from all and sundry."

Harry nodded, "Roz is really good. She does the politics thing really well, too. I didn't know she'd been a Slytherin until I started working on your journals." Harry smiled wryly, "She told how much help you'd given her in learning how to navigate Wizard society. She said that she never, ever believed you betrayed Dumbledore, you know. She couldn't reconcile the idea of you killing the headmaster, so she assumed there was something wrong with the information they were getting. She said it was one of the things that made her think she needed to flee the country." Fleeing when Dumbledore had been killed had been the main reason Roz hadn't wound up in Azkaban, like so many of her fellow Aurors who had the bad fortune to be muggle-born.

"I am glad that there are some few who remember me fondly." another long silence.

"Ernie McMillon is getting your potion patented. Under your name. He's already got an article for publication in 'The Cauldron'. Someone in America wants to replicate the studies for their use. It's commonly being called the Snape potion." Harry reached over to rub the blond boy's back. "I have to tell you, thank you. He's so much better."

Snape huffed to himself, "Do not let them call it the 'Snape potion.' That's just embarassing. It's proper name is 'Tears' " I am very glad the child is better, but make no mistake, he will still have a long road ahead of him to really heal." Then abruptly. "Do you love the boy, Potter?"

Harry turned to say something harsh or sarcastic to the man, irritated that Snape was questioning him like this.

The man's expression stopped him. He looked only a very little older than James. Barely old enough to have left school, if that. He looked like the Snape who, in memory, had begged for Lily Evan's forgiveness. He looked like the man who, only a few years later, had begged Dumbledore to protect Lily Potter and had vowed to give anything Dumbledore wanted in return.

The curious thing was that the boy had woken and was now staring at Harry, with the exact same expression of hope, desperation and fear.

"Yes." Harry said firmly, "I'm not sure what it will take for you believe me."

Snape relaxed, sighed, "Just time, I suppose."

Tim appeared to go back to sleep.

"So, tell me, Professor," Harry asked, "What's your idea of Heaven?" He was honestly curious.

The corner of Snape's mouth quirked up, "Oddly enough, it's not dissimilar to this."

That was interesting.

"Do you like wherever-you-are now?" asked Harry, forgetting that the man was merely in his head.

Snape gave Harry a long, measuring look, "I think I do."

Suddenly, the taller man moved awkwardly, getting his feet under him to stand with the child in his arms. Harry scrambled up too,

"Where are you going?" Harry said, sharply.

Snape smiled at Harry, as he'd smiled at Tim earlier.  The expression reaching his dark eyes, warming and softening them, "Won't let the child out of your sight, even in your dreams?"

"No. If it's all the same to you." Harry replied, stiffly. He gently took the sleeping boy back from Snape.

The steps to the kitchen seemed rather longer than he remembered them. Harry gripped the banister and took each step carefully. Once he had to stop and catch his breath. Ginny was going to have his hide for wandering around, but she wasn't here to stop him, at the moment.

Voices from the kitchen. Molly was here today, to keep an eye on Harry and Tim.

"...talking to my angel." Tim was saying, "It was nice."

"Your angel, dear?" asked Molly, gently "You have an angel?"

"Nana said everyone does, its just that not everyone can hear them, 'cause they don't listen well enough. She said that your angel would always tell you the right thing to do."

If anyone noticed Harry on the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, he'd deny he needed to catch his breath a second time. He'd tell them he was enjoying the sound of enthusiastic childhood chatter.

It was even mostly true.

"She said that you can't hear them with just your ears, you have to listen with your heart and your gut too." Tim went on. He was speaking very seriously, but somehow he sounded more childlike than he ever had before.

"Your Nana was a very wise woman. I know exactly what you mean." said Molly, encouragingly "So, you were dreaming about talking to your angel?"

"Yeah. He was talking to Mr. Potter. He's never talked to anyone else, even when I was dreaming. I think maybe Auntie Ginny was in it too, but I don't remember what she was doing. Anyway, he said something, but I don't remember what and then I woke up, but it was a nice dream. " Tim finished.

Harry sighed. The child deserved to have all the nice dreams he could get.

Molly's sharp ears caught the sound, "Harry James Potter! Are you out of bed?" she called out.

Harry had hoped that perhaps Ginny might not have mentioned to her that he wasn't supposed to get up today.

As if that was bloody likely.

"Uh, yeah. Just thought I'd get some tea." Harry replied, trying not to sound sheepish. He staggered down the remaining three steps.

"If Master had wanted tea, Master should have called Kreacher." the house elf said, turning from the stove, to fix Harry with a reproachful expression, as he came in through the door, "Mistress Ginny said Master was not to leave his bedroom today."

Molly shook her head, "Well, sit down. Have some tea and its straight back up with you. I'll help you back up. I doubt you'd make it upstairs yourself at the moment." she poured a cup of tea and added liberal amounts of milk and sugar to it, Harry noticed, "You look like death warmed over."

Harry couldn't dispute Molly's assessment. He'd only been allowed to leave St. Mungo's yesterday. He just couldn't stay in bed staring at the wall for one more minute. Ginny always complained that he was the world's worst patient.

"How about I just go sit in the drawing room and read?" wheedled Harry, Drinking his tea.

Molly huffed, "All right, but don't come crying to me, when your wife goes mad. I'm not taking any responsibility for it."

Harry winked at Tim who was sitting next to him. Like Harry, he was still in his pajamas. The boy covered his own smile with his hand,

"Have a good sleep?" Harry asked. For a moment a sense of deja vu drifted on the edge of his awareness, then it was gone.

Tim nodded, shyly.

"He was just telling me what he was dreaming about." put in Molly fondly.

"I had some peculiar dreams." said Harry, "I think the stuff the healers have me on make my dreams weird."

"It can do." agreed Molly, "Now, come on, at least put your feet up, Harry."

Harry sighed, there was no arguing with Molly when she went into full on caretaker mode. With her help, he staggered up the short flight of stairs to the drawing room. There was a bathroom on the same level that he didn't have to brave steps to get to. Molly got him situated on the couch, summoned pillow and blankets.

"Now you stay put." she said. She put a stack of books beside the setee, "Do you mind if I put Tim in here with you?" she asked quietly, "He's supposed to be resting too, but he really doesn't want to be alone."

"I can't blame him." Harry wondered just how long it would be until Tim could cope with being alone. It didn't matter, really, "Bring him in here and we'll keep each other company."

Molly smiled at him. Looked critically at the settee before widening it enough so both Harry and Tim could fit on it. She summoned some more pillows and blankets, "I used to do this when the boys got sick." she said, "Put them down in the living room where I could see them. If I left them to their own devices, they'd have the whole house down around my ears the minute they were feeling better."

She tucked Harry in firmly, "Tim, lovey." she called down the stairs, "Why don't you come sit with Harry? Your supposed to be resting too."

Once Tim was firmly settled, Molly said, "Now, if you need anything, just let me know. I'm just sending Kreacher out for a few things."

"Thank you, Molly." said Harry, gratefully, surprised at how tired out he felt after just walking up and down stairs. The healers had warned him that he wold be a few weeks getting his strength back; regrowing lung tissue wasn't like mending broken bones. He had strict orders to stay in bed for two days before a healer would come by to check on him. He really wasn't supposed to be going any further than the bathroom, just a few steps from his bed.

He lay back after a minute, idly watching Tim draw, until the boy felt his gaze and looked up,

"Mr. Potter?" asked the boy.

Harry sighed to himself, it was back to "Mr. Potter", hopefully that would change soon, "Nothing. Just wondering what you're drawing."

Tim's cheeks colored, making him look more cherub-like than usual. Harry realized that, in the week since he'd seen him properly, the boy had put on weight. That was good to see.

"If you don't want to show me, I understand." Harry used to be very reluctant to show adults anything he was doing. If the teachers liked something and praised it where any of the Dursleys could hear, Aunt Petunia would berate him for "showing off". He hadn't been stupid enough to show his "family" anything he was proud of. One of his more unpleasant memories was when his teacher had sent a story Harry had written, in his last year of primary school, home. The accompanying note had told the Dursleys how much she enjoyed Harry's presence in class and praised his "imaginative nature". That was one of the episodes that Dudley's account and Harry's really agreed.

Tim gave his trade mark shrug, "I was just drawing what I was dreaming about last night." he said quietly. After a moment of thought, he turned the drawing around. It had a happy sun in the sky, Harry was pleased to see. A yellow ball, high in the blue sky, with a smiling face.

Three figures stood on the ground. One larger figure, smiling, with black hair, green eyes and glasses, smaller figure with blond hair and blue eyes. Incongruously, A black figure stood next to the other two, huge black wings reaching around what Harry took to be the Tim figure. Harry was glad the creature had a face, otherwise it would look like a Dementor. It smiled benignly, but it was so very black.

"Can you tell me about it?" That was Harry's standard question, since the time Al had become distraught when Harry had innocently asked him what one of his drawings was.

Tim pointed, "That's me."

Harry nodded seriously.

"That's you." Tim looked up to see if Harry was following, "And that's my angel." last, he pointed at the black figure, "He's got black wings and robes 'cause he's fierce. He takes care of me when things are bad and there's no one else."

Harry nodded. That made sense that the boy would create a protector for himself. Both Lily and Albus had had their share of imaginary friends, without nearly as much reason as Tim, "So, what's happening?"

"We're just being together."

"Me too?" Asked Harry smiling,

Smiling shyly, the boy nodded.

After a moment more of admiring the drawing, Tim put it aside to start on another picture.

Harry wished he had taken up knitting. It would be be easier to ask Tim about the other thing Harry had on his mind, if he didn't have to meet the boy's eyes, "Um, TIm..."

"Yeah." the child kept drawing, that was helpful.

"The other day, when I uh...came to get you. I heard you tell Smith something about us keeping you in a cupboard?"

Tim looked at him, horrified, "When did you get there?"

"Uh, when the pizza arrived. I have an invisibility cloak I use for work." Harry replied. He wouldn't even have brought it up, except it was such a peculiar thing to say, that Harry had to know why he said it.

"I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean to lie, but he didn't want to know anything good..." Tim's face turned white, then red, then white again.

"It's, okay." Harry was quick to reassure him. "I thought it was clever, honestly, for you to tell him what he wanted to hear, right then." Harry dared to slip an arm around Tim's back and was rewarded by the boy scooting closer to him, "I just wondered how you made that up?"

"It was in that book you were reading." said Tim, nodding at the coffee table, where Dudley's book rested.

"You read that?" asked Harry surprised. He wouldn't have thought it would interest a seven year old boy.

Tim nodded, matter of factly, "I like the bits about 'The Boy'."

Half facetiously, Harry asked, "So have you read all the books we have?"

Tim nodded, "All the ones I could reach. Some of them weren't that good, but I liked a lot of them."

Harry remembered what Penny had said about Tim's reading level being quite a bit above average, but this surprised him, "So you read a lot, then?"

"I don't play football well, and my Nana wouldn't let me watch telly most days. Mum didn't care how much I watched though. Sometimes she took me to the library."

"Oh." Tim's life came into sharper focus, again. Small, uncoordinated, and often sickly, Tim would have no interest in outdoor games. After his grandmother's death, reading was probably a welcome haven. Certainly, now that Harry thought of it, Tim always had a book in his hand.

"Why did you like the bits about 'The Boy'?" asked Harry curiously.

"Because..." Tim had to think about it apparently, "Because it's nice to know that he got better, I guess." Tim's cheeks colored again, "I read the last part first. I don't like stories with sad endings."

Harry had to agree with that.

Harry kept dozing off all day, but that seemed to be fine, so did Tim. The healers had told Ginny for the next week or so, it was likely that Tim would keep dropping off. When Snape had used it on the students of Hogwarts, he'd suggested to Poppy that the tired students needed Pepper-up potion. Ernie didn't like to use that, preferring to allow Tim's body to find it's own balance.

It was only when Lily looked in on them, after getting back from school, that Harry wondered where Ginny could have gotten too.

Really, he needed to ask the healers to reduce the dosage of whatever they were giving him. It made him calm to the point of apathy.

"Molly?" he asked her when she came to check on all of them. Lily and Tim were engrossed in a game of wizard chess, "When's Ginny due home?"

Molly glanced nervously at the clock, and then the children. She gave a sharp jerk of her head towards the hallway. Harry took her meaning, "Would you help me up, Molly? Uh, bathroom."

Harry staggered into the hallway and they half closed the door. Molly used her wand to cast a Silencio, "They're at the Ministry. I thought they'd be back by now." Molly was actually wringing her hands a bit, "Oh, I was hoping we could tell you when you felt better."

Harry really hated it when people kept things from him, "What, Molly?"

"Smith's parents. You know they're still alive? Well, when they were notified about what happened, the Ministry had to tell them the circumstances. When they found out Tim was their grandson by blood, they...filed for custody of Tim." she said the last in a rush.

Even through the calming potion, Harry's stomach dropped. He sucked in his breath with an alarming wheeze, "You were going to tell me this, when?" he demanded.

"Harry!" she hissed, "Sit down," she conjured a chair and pushed him down onto it, "They have every right to. They're his last living relatives. The hearing's today."

"We didn't tell you, because there's nothing you could have done." she went on.

Really there wasn't. Harry was having a hard time right now, not giving in to a wave of blackness. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe steadily.

"Harry, slow down." Molly was saying encouragingly. she waved her wand, "Vernum".

Suddenly there was more air in Harry's immediate vicinity and the spots cleared from his eyes.

Just that moment, Molly and Harry both heard the sound of happy voices from the front door.

Someone was singing at the top of his voice,

"We're off to see the Wizard!

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"

A voice that Harry recognized as Dudley's, laughed, "Do you think you could manage to be more of a stereotype?."

Ginny's giggle, "I need to see this film!"

Ron and Hermione's laughter, behind them.

Molly and Harry looked at each other,

"It sounds like it went well." Molly said tentatively, a slow smile blooming on her face.

The door slammed open, "OI! Harry! You alive?" called Ron.

"Here." he called, from where he sat on the stairs.

"Told you he wouldn't stay in bed. You owe me a Galleon." Ron said To Phillip, who started digging around in his pocket.

Ginny stood at the bottom of the stairs looking happier than she had all week, "Do you want the good news or the better news?"

Good news. Thank Merlin, and anyone else who might be listening, it was good news

Harry sat wheezing, in the chair Molly had conjured. He was giddy with relief and shortness of breath. Ginny ran up the stairs to come to stand by him, "I told you to stay in bed." she said, reprovingly. She didn't seem that upset, just exasperated.

"Mum?" Lily called. "We were in the drawing room. Dad's been lying down all afternoon, honest."

Molly must have cancelled the silence charm on the door.

"So why...didn't you...tell me..?" Harry gasped between each couple of words.

Ginny made an impatient noise in her throat, "Because you spent most of last week unconscious, if you remember. They filed the request on Wednesday. You didn't wake up properly until Friday morning."

"But.." Harry had to stop for a breath. His breathing got harder as he became more agitated. He suddenly saw the point of the calming potions. His lung was too new and too tender to withstand emotional shocks that made his heart race. "What" gasp, "happened?" another gasp.

"Only when you're lying down." Ron said, firmly, "C'mon, one of you." Ron pulled one of Harry's arms around him, Dudley grabbed the other side and they lifted Harry up easily, depositing him on the drawing room settee.

Ginny fussed with covering him up, calling "Kreacher! Bring whatever potions Harry was supposed to take."

Irritably, Harry wanted to tell her to leave him alone. Unfortunately he had no breath to tell her to leave him alone. Kreacher appeared with a pop.

"Oh, don't worry about it." Harry heard Lily whisper to Tim, "He's always like this when he gets hurt. Mum can hardly ever get him to look after himself." She said it in the exact same tone of exasperation that Ginny used.

Harry internally threw up his hands and just took the potions Ginny handed to him. His breathing grew easier and the alarming wheeze stopped. The false calm of the potion settled around him.

"You skipped your evening dose, didn't you?" Ginny said accusingly, as she looked at the empty vials.

Sheepishly, Harry nodded. "Don't like feeling stupid." he mumbled.

"We'll talk about it, later." Ginny promised, darkly, "Now if you'll stay still, we'll tell you what happened." she turned to Phillip, "I must say, I don't think I would have made it through this week without you and Dudley."

There was a sentence Harry never expected to be spoken in his house. Ever.

Dudley and Phillip had taken seats together on the short love seat. Hermione sat at the end of the widened setee, Ron pulled up one of the chairs and Molly the other one. Ginny was sat down next to Harry. Lily and Tim seemed content on the floor.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Ginny." said Phillip, modestly, "It's what I do."

"Well, I say you were bloody brilliant." Ron said enthusiastically, "I've never heard anyone talk in front of the Wizengamot like that. And bringing in what Tim said to Roz...There wasn't a dry eye in the house."

Phillip shrugged, "I thought his own words would be most effective. I'm just glad it was recorded. The rest of it; that was just the truth."

The children were looking curiously at the adults. Tim slipped his hand into Lily's, "So...what happened?" he asked. He seemed to be bracing himself for something.

Ginny pulled a sheaf of parchment out of her bag, "Well, good news is that the Smiths withdrew their petition without needing a judgment, so they can't appeal. The really good news is that we finished the guardianship paperwork." she smiled at him, "That means we've been named your undisputed, permanent guardians."

Tim's eyebrows came together in a frown, "I get to stay forever?" sounding as though he wanted to make it quite clear.

Ginny nodded enthusiastically, "And, on July 31, the permanent guardianship is eligible to become adoption." she looked at the boy questioningly, "Do you understand what that means, lovey?"

Slowly, Tim nodded, "It means that you and Mr. Potter...you'd be sort of...sort of my parents." he swallowed, hard.

"Only if you want it." Harry had caught his breath enough to say, "If it bothers you, we could just stay your guardians. If you want some time, it doesn't matter to us."

Lily looked from her parents to Tim.

Tim's face was closed, and frighteningly impassive for a boy his age.

Lily leaned over and whispered in his ear. He whispered back. Whatever he said made her eyes shine with tears. The tears didn't fall and she smiled. She shoved his shoulder as Harry had seen her shove her other brothers, "Don't be stupid. I don't care." she said, sounding a bit hoarse, "I already share them with James and Al."

Tim nodded, but still he had that closed expression.

"What Tim?" asked Ginny, a little anxious.

Tim's eyes dropped and he started fiddling with his hands, "Would that mean I'd call you 'Mum'?" he asked in a neutral voice

"Tim...I..." it was clear to Harry that Ginny would like that very much, but she didn't want to press him, "I wouldn't want to make you think I wanted you to forget about...I mean I...I'd be very pleased...as long as you thought..."

"Um...loads of kids in my old schools had two mums." the boy said, glancing up furtively to look at Ginny.

Ginny looked a little confused, "Sorry?".

"Divorce not that common in the magical world?" asked Dudley.

"I should think not," exclaimed Molly, sounding a little scandalized.

Phillip snorted, "So, that's why they're so befuddled over a custodial dispute."

Hermione shrugged, "I think we're about fifty years behind in social norms."

"And yet you don't have any trouble with same gender marriages?" asked Dudley.

Ron looked confused now, "Why would we?"

Dudley and Phillip glanced at each other and chuckled, "Another day, we'll explain it." said Dudley, with a little smile, "Tim, I daresay that Ginny won't mind whatever you call her." he paused, "And we already know what you said to Miss Roz." he said gently.

Tim bit his lip, "Oh. Yeah." his impassive expression slipped. Beneath it was a frightened little boy, "So...so you wouldn't...mind?"

Ginny swept the child up into a hug, unable to speak.

"Not a dry eye in the house." muttered Ron thickly, catching Harry's eye. Hermione had already handed Molly a handkerchief.

Tim whispered in Ginny's ear and she sobbed once, but took a deep breath. She pulled back to look at the boy. Her eyes were very red, "I think you and your sister need to have your dinner, am I right?" she said hoarsely.

Tim, nodded, "Yes, Mum." he whispered. And then the boy smiled, his rare delighted smile, that Harry had only ever seen the boy use when working with his wand.

"Come on, you two." Ginny wiped her eyes, "This lot can look after your father, for five minutes." She extended her hand to each of the smiling children, "Let's see what there is in the kitchen. Maybe Kreacher's worked out how to make pizza."

When Ginny had shut the door behind her and the children, Harry said hoarsely (obviously his chest was still a bit tight), "So are you going to tell me..."

"What happened?" put in Ron, brightly.

"Yeah."

Everyone looked at Hermione, "Well, the Smiths decided to ask for custody of Tim." she said, "I'm not sure what they were thinking. Maybe it was simple grief over their son. Plus he'd never told them about Mary and Tim. I'm sure they wouldn't have liked that he'd had a bastard child with a Muggle, but as it is, they decided they wanted to raise the boy as a Smith. We received the notification Wednesday about the hearing, and you know how Wizarding law works-blood relatives always get preference."

"Not that different in the rest of the world, either." put in Dudley with a sigh, "All you need is some bastard judge to decide that 'the Family' must be upheld and the poor kid's living with the dad she hasn't seen in two years..."

Harry noticed Phillip take Dudley's hand and squeeze it. He would have to ask Dudley about that, later.

"So, I looked it up, since Tim's a half blood, he had a right to Muggle representation as well as Wizard." said Hermione, "And we pulled all of Tim's records to show how coming to live with you and Ginny was in his best interests. Phillip was amazing."

"We kept getting stuck on the blood issue though-you know how the Smith's are an old Pure Blood family." Ron said, "They kept saying how it was only right that the boy be with the grandparents. That no matter what the son had done, Tim needed to be with his 'natural relations'. They were very grateful for the Potter's help, of course...blah,blah,blah..."

"It was like our Brianna all over again." growled Dudley.

"Brianna?"

"We fostered her for about two years," said Phillip, bitterly, "Similiar story, single mum with problems. No dad in the picture. Until he demanded her back after she turned two. Never mind that he hadn't seen her the whole time we had her. Never mind that he'd never looked to find out if she was all right. The judge said she 'deserved' to be with her family."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear." said Molly, sympathetically.

"Well, finally Phillip brought out Roz's Pensieved memories of her interview with Tim." Ron picked up the story, "Tim told her about how Smith Cruciated him again and how you came in. He said, 'My dad came in to save me.' and Roz asked him who he meant and Tim looked at her like she'd grown another head and said, 'Mr. Potter. The other man was only a sperm donor.' "

Molly gasped, "He never did!" sounding utterly shocked.

Hermione and Ron snickered at Molly's consternation, "He really did." said Ron

Harry was having a problem making that add up in his head. He remembered Smith grabbing Tim, not using an Unforgivable on him, "What-what have the healers said about that?" he asked. Could he have the episode that confused?

"Well, they say it doesn't seem to have hurt him any worse. That potion is amazing, apparently. The bruise on his face was pretty bad when he first came back too and Phillip showed the photos of those to the Wizengamot." replied Ron.

Was it possible the child had lied? No, there was no way a child of that age, and a Muggle born child to boot, could understand the rules on using the killing curse. Harry had assumed that Roz was using the threat of Smith's likely use of deadly force as the mitigating factor, a much narrower defense to be sure, but often ruled valid.

Perhaps he'd simply gotten the events confused. He had been missing half a lung, after all.

But the healers had said that Tim was very vulnerable to magic in his state...

"Harry?" said Hermione, "You okay? You drifted off."

He shook his head, "Sorry. Tired."

"Well, to cut a long story short, Phillip went for the throat after that." said Dudley, "He asked the Smiths if they realized what they were getting into taking on a special needs child. He brought out all Tim's behaviors. His night terrors and his self injury; the accidental magic. Then he asked them very sweetly and compassionately if they really were ready for that. Mr Smith blustered about how he thought that the potion had cured him." Dudley snorted, "The-Wizengamot you call it? The whole room went quiet, as though they had stopped breathing. Phillip told him very nicely that the potion was experimental and might not last. He said it was also possible that the worst case was that Tim could become completely autistic and then told them what autism was in very small words."

Hermione nodded, "By that time the Smith's looked like they were ready to be sick."

"I also told them that even if Tim's condition didn't change one iota or even if he was cured of the physical damage, he was still in need of intensive mental healing." Phillip said, "They asked for a recess and then they came to speak to me in the hallway. In fifteen minutes they'd withdrawn their request and Hermione had the proper papers drawn up for you to be permanent guardians."

"What would you have done if you're lost?" asked Harry, croakily.

"What any good solicitor does." smirked Phillip, "Stalled, appealed. Ernie said he could get Tim readmitted to St Mungo's as a last resort."

"Oh, that would have been a good idea." muttered Harry.

"Well, it didn't come to that." said Hermione firmly, "Well, I can see you're tired, Harry. Ron and I need to go pick up Hugo, anyway, so we'll leave you." she gave him a hug and Ron clasped his hand, "See you."

Dudley and Phillip stood too, "Eleanor's at Phillip's mum's, so we should go too." both men gave Harry a hug, as did Molly.

After a moment, Ginny came up the stairs, "You want help getting up to bed, or are you happy there?"

"I'll stay here, for now."

Ginny smiled happily before calling for Kreacher to bring Harry something to eat.

Tim came in shyly, and crawled up on the setee with him again. He didn't say anything, but snuggled himself in beside Harry, in the position they'd enjoyed earlier.

"Tim?" asked Harry after a moment, "Uh, when you talked to Miss Roz...they said that you said he used the Crucio Curse on you again...I think my memory must be muddled..."

Tim pulled back to look at Harry. His blue eyes were oddly flat, "That's how I remember it, Mr. Potter." he said solemnly.

That reminded Harry of something else, more pressing, "You know Tim," Harry said very quietly, "If you're going to call Auntie Ginny 'Mum', you could call me 'Dad'. If you wanted to."

The flatness left the boy's eyes to be replaced by bright depths. He nodded, clearly unable to speak. Harry pulled his youngest son into a tight embrace.

The leaves of the Forbidden Forest were just starting to fall and the air was crisp with the scent of frost. A mist lay over the lake that the sun would likely burn off by when it rose, but in the predawn grey light, it gave an otherworldly character to the shoreline, the matched black and white tombs and the small monument.

Harry drew his cloak more tightly around himself against the early morning chill. He watched a snowy white owl fly from one tree to another, wondered who it belonged to.

"Hello, Mr. Potter."

Harry started, looking around. The voice was one that he felt he should have known. However, he couldn't think who it belonged to.

It was the voice of a teenage boy. Not an unpleasant voice, but, like all teenage boy's voices, it had an unfinished, unpolished sound. Harry couldn't place it, it sounded so familiar; perhaps a friend of James or Al?

"Up here." The voice came from somewhere above him.

Harry looked up to the top of the black tomb. A boy of about thirteen or fourteen lounged up there. He sat up and grinned at Harry. If it hadn't been for the black eyes and distinctive nose, Harry might not have recognized him. However, those were unmistakable.

There sat Severus Snape. But, this was not Snape the Headmaster, nor was he Snape, the Hogwart's Professor, former Death Eater and Spy for the Order of the Phoenix. This was the Severus that Harry had glimpsed in the Pensieve, walking around this very lake with Lily Evans, so many years ago. No older than Harry's own sons.

The teenager hopped off the tomb carelessly. He moved like a boy who had not yet grown into his body, all lanky awkwardness. No hint yet, of the graceful Potions Master, so deadly in a duel. He was, perhaps, tall for a fourteen year old, but much shorter than he had been (would become?). He was still able to look Harry in the eye, though.

Those eyes were not the ones Harry remembered at all.

"Snape?" Harry asked in atonishment. The boy wore Hogwart's school robes, with a Slytherin tie and badge. The robes weren't second hand, like the ones Harry had seen in his memory and, once again, he looked better groomed and better rested than in life.

The boy smiled, hesitantly, "Yeah." His black eyes were not flat or guarded. They contained merely the shyness of a boy who was rather sensitive and was unsure of his welcome.

Harry stared at him for a long moment. This was the boy his mother had befriended. This was the boy one could imagine calling "Sev" without fearing a hex.

"Why do you keep getting younger?" asked Harry, when he couldn't think of anything else to say, and the boy had started to bite his lip anxiously.

"Why do you keep getting older?" the boy countered.

The older wizard smirked a little, "Because it's better than the alternative."

"Well, there you are, then." replied the boy. He smiled impishly as if that answered everything.

Harry shook his head mentally, at the notion that Snape could ever have been 'impish'.

They stared at each other, for a long awkward moment.

Not sure what else to do, Harry began to walk along the lake. He didn't like standing in the shadow of Snape's tomb, having a conversation with the younger version of the man, "Coming?" he asked Snape, not sure if he'd follow otherwise.

The boy grinned at the invitation.

Snape trotted along beside him the same way one of his children would. Snape was much quieter than any of Harry's children, except for Tim. Like the youngest, this Snape seemed perfectly easy with silences. They must have gotten halfway around the lake before Snape spoke again.

"I understand Lily got sorted into Hufflepuff." He didn't say it disdainfully, he just said it. An observation.

Harry nodded, "She's got ambitions to be a healer. Ernie McMillan was at great pains to tell me that all the best healers come from Hufflepuff. And Eleanor got sorted into Ravenclaw."

"Does it bother you?" Snape sounded a little anxious. It was strange to hear that voice sound so young and unsure.

"No. Why should it?" Harry had said the same thing to anyone who asked since last week, when the children had gone off to school, "Lily's always so concerned with things being fair and just. It makes sense when you think about it."

"What if..." the younger wizard hesitated, "What if the little one got sorted into Slythrin?"

"Then Professor Bulstrode will have her hands full." chuckled Harry, "Although she might be glad of a new Seeker. And Roz'll be over the moon. She'll drown him in silver and green, like Luna drowns Al in blue and bronze."

"It really wouldn't upset you?" Snape asked quietly, "I've heard of students who've had real trouble at home if they were sorted into the 'wrong' house. My own mother told me not to bother to come home if I went anywhere but Slytherin. And Regulus told me that his father beat the hell out of his brother for getting into Gryffindor."

Harry made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, "Some parents need to grow up, before they have kids." he said, "It never fails to amaze me, you need a license to apparate, you need a Mastery to teach, but any idiot can go and have a child..." he trailed off, "It's not right." he fell silent for a moment.

"Anyway, I had this conversation with Al when he was sorted into Ravenclaw and with Lily when she got sorted into Hufflepuff. I think it's fine."

"Yes, but Al and Lily are really your children. I'm n-I-I mean-the boy isn't." Snape said.

Harry caught the stumble. Hair rose on the back of his neck. He shook his head, dismissing the impression. Dreams were funny things.

"Tim is as much my son as the rest of them. I keep going over this with him, and I'll just keep going over this. I know it's going to take time." Harry shrugged, "Anyway, it'd be nice to have the set, you know?" he finished with a little smile.

Teenage-Dream-Snape contemplated that for a few minutes.

As they walked the sun rose, the mist over the lake turning gold as the sun warmed it.

"You always come back here." remarked Snape, "More often than you go anywhere else, in your dreams."

Harry nodded, "I know. It was my first home."

"That's sort of sad, you know." the teenager, observed, in a teasing tone.

"Pathetic, really," agreed Harry, with a snort. "Of course, I wouldn't react well to finding myself a teenager again, I must say."

"Oh, you have no idea." Snape returned, "Of course, it's certainly better than being middle aged."

"I like being middle aged." Harry replied, with mock seriousness.

"Hm, I can see that." the boy gave him a little half smile.

By the time they got halfway around the lake, most of the mist had disappeared and left the sky a brilliant blue. Just in front of them, though, was a stubborn patch of golden fog, glittering as though magically charged.

"You always dream nice weather, too." Snape said, "Are you planning on taking Roz up on her offer? It's warm there, all year."

Harry nodded, absently, "Ginny and I have been talking about it. My chest's just gotten so I feel normal again. Bloody annoying to be laid up all summer. The healers reckon giving the winter in England a miss would be a good idea."

"And the three of u-er-you would go?" Snape asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes. Ginny's quite looking forward to it. They're restarting their Quidditch team and they haven't had a proper coach, so they'v asked Ginny, just a temporary thing, but we'll only be there a year or two. They've got a wizard school for Tim, so no trouble there. And we can have the three at school portkey, out for the holidays."

Harry glanced at the boy walking beside him, who seemed to relax as Harry spoke. His shoulder's dropped from where he'd been holding them tensely

Inexplicably, the boy also seemed shorter than he was when they started their walk.

He stopped, turned to face Harry, "This is as far as we're allowed to go together. Like this." he said. His young face was solemn, "There are rules, after all. Even a Master of Death cannot circumvent them."

"I thought that was the point." said Harry.

The boy smiled, "I suppose it is."

"Listen," Harry knew, with the absolute certainty of the dreamer, that this would be his last dream of this type, "Before you go, thank you. For what you did for the students. I never was able to thank you for that. And for what you did for Ginny. And well...everyone. Especially my son."

The boy grinned brightly at him, an expression that Harry had never seen on that face, "Don't worry about it, Mr. Potter." he said, pleased, "And...and the boy will be fine. That potion was my life's work, after all."

Harry nodded, leaned against a tree, "I think, I might miss these weird little meetings." he said.

"You don't need to worry about that." Snape said, enigmatically.

He started to walk away.

"Sev?" called Harry, not sure what prompted him to use the name, just realizing he was unwilling to let the boy go.

Snape turned around, clearly startled, "Yeah?"

"Are you...are you all right? Where you are?" for some reason, this seemed very important to Harry.

"Yes." the boy smiled, "Yes, I am. I'm very much 'all right'." he turned and walked off into toward the bank of mist.

Harry watched him go, feeling oddly bereft.

The light reflected strangely off boy's hair as he disappeared into the bank of golden fog. It seemed to Harry, for a moment as though the boy's hair was yellow rather than its customary black.

Harry woke up rather suddenly. He was tempted to roll over and try to return to the dream he'd been having. Some deep contentment followed him from slumber and he had no desire to lose the feeling. He closed his eyes for a moment, but it was no good. It was morning and the sun was bright in his room. And the dream was lost like a morning mist.

Harry smiled at himself, that was almost lyrical. People like him shouldn't write poetry, he decided.

Ginny was already up, but laying sound asleep at his side, was Tim. His blonde hair was mussed and in need of a cut.

Since the beginning of summer he'd grown. Not catching up to his peers, yet, but enough so that the healers had stopped being so concerned about it. He would probably never be a tall man, but his growth was not permanently stunted.

Even better, his coordination had increased to the point where the healers had recommended he get his own broom, to motivate him to continue to work on his agility. Harry was quick to point out that Tim's slight build was a real advantage if he wanted to play Seeker on a Quidditch team. Catching snitches was much more fun than physical therapy exercises

He still slept badly, but the mindhealers had said that his new habit of crawling into Harry and Ginny's bed when he had nightmares, was a sign of increased security and trust. It was hard on him that Lily wasn't home anymore, but he was able to talk about it, rather than have it come out in fits of accidental magic. Dudley had suggested Harry and Ginny use the phrase "Use your words." to encourage Tim to do just that, rather than send teacups flying.

For a while, Harry watched the boy sleeping peacefully. It was Saturday, and they had no reason to rush. Harry liked to look at his children as they slept, a habit he'd had since they were infants and he used to get up to make sure they were still breathing.

Tim felt the scrutiny and opened his eyes, "Hey, Dad." he mumbled.

"Hey, lovey. All right?" asked Harry.

The boy nodded sleepily and smiled, "Yeah, I'm really all right."

That reminded Harry of something, but he couldn't think what.