"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.