Molly Weasley studied the pale face of the boy that had been left in her care a week ago. She had encouraged him to eat as much as he liked, but he couldn't manage large meals. She had encouraged him to feel free to ask for anything he needed, but it was clear he didn't dare do that.

"Timothy?"

He looked up from his breakfast. "Yes, Aunt Molly?"

On their first day, Arthur and Molly had proposed that the boy call them 'aunt' and 'uncle'. Up to date the boy had been the perfect house-guest, albeit timid and withdrawn. The only time they had heard him laugh was when he had been helping Arthur with one of his Muggle projects. Arthur still continued his quest for knowledge on the use of rubber ducks, something Harry delighted in keeping from him.

"Headmaster Potter asked that you spend today with him. I believe he wishes to take you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies himself, and he also wants to talk to you."

Tim felt his heart skip a beat. "Why, Aunt Molly?"

He cringed. Asking a question like that would certainly have earned him at least a slap from his father, and although neither Aunt Molly nor Uncle Arthur had shown any interest in hitting him, he wasn't about to take chances with that.

Molly sighed. "It's alright to ask questions, Tim. You are the closest thing he has to blood relatives. That makes you special to him. I believe he recognizes a bit of himself in you."

"He does?" Tim asked in suprise, "I thought that as the Headmaster, he'd be far to busy to talk to me."

"Harry makes time to do fun things," Molly smiled.

Tim was perplexed. Headmaster Potter considered spending the day with him, fun? With him?

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Harry arrived at about ten.

"Where's Tim?" he asked Molly.

"In his room. He'll be down in a moment."

"How is he?"

Molly turned and ran her hand through Harry's hair. "It's like having you in the house all over again," she admitted, "I just can't believe parents can do this to their own child!"

"Wizarding families have been known to throw out or abuse their Squib offspring," Harry reminded her, "what's the difference?"

"You know very well I hate it when that happens as well," Molly said angrily, "a child is a child, magic or not, and should be loved, not abused."

Harry laughed and kissed her cheek. "You are absolutely right, Mum," he said, "and I do believe that you could have loved the evil out of Tom Riddle even, had you gotten him in time."

"Harry dear, I'm younger than Tom Riddle," Molly pointed out, immensely pleased none the less.

"Oh, you get my point."

Molly grinned. "Would you like some tea and cake before you go, dear? And I've been meaning to ask you…" she continued, "how come Timothy resembles you?"

"He doesn't resemble me," Harry said, "He looks like Sirius. It's the hair. You'll see, if he lets it grow, it'll be just like Siri's."

Baffled, Molly opened and closed her mouth, with no sound coming out.

"I did some research," Harry continued, ignoring his adoptive mother's fish impersonations, "and I discovered that Siri's brother Regulus fathered a child before he died. That girl was about the same age as Dudley and myself, perhaps a bit older. She was Martin's mother. The black hair, his features, he gets most of them from the Blacks."

"I never heard Regulus was married," Molly said softly.

Harry lifted his head but didn't quite meet her eyes. "Muggle baiting," he managed, barely above a whisper.

"She…she was raped?" Molly breathed.

"As was her daughter after her," Harry said coldly, "by Dudley. He got her drunk that night on purpose."

"So…Timothy's grandmother was Sirius's niece?"

"Indeed. It's a good thing Siri never knew; he would've killed Dudley."

Molly shook her head. "What a lineage that poor boy comes from," she muttered, "such a sweet child. I hope you won't tell him all this too soon, Harry."

Her darkhaired son sighed. "When is too soon, Mum? Albus made that same mistake, waiting too long because he feared it was too soon. And now I'm in his shoes. I'll tell him what I found out, but I'll leave out those details until he is older."

"I guess," Molly sighed, "but just like with you back then, I'd so much want for him to be a child. I'll go fetch him."

She found Tim in the upstairs drawing room, staring at family pictures. She slowly stood next to him.

"They're our family," she said, "Here's Ron, you've seen him briefly last week. That is his wife. Over there is Bill and his wife Fleur. They have two very beautiful children and five grandchildren."

She pointed at the pictures.

"Who is this?" Tim asked, carefully picking up an old photograph of a young girl, "she is very pretty."

Molly smiled sadly. "She is, isn't she? That is our daughter Ginny. She died when she was eighteen. It devastated us, but it completely destroyed Harry for a while."

She kissed her index finger and pressed it to the glass.

"Why did it hurt Professor Potter so much?" Tim softly asked.

"They were engaged," Molly replied, smiling a bit as she remembered the happy young couple, "and then she was killed. Purposely, to make his life miserable. I like to think," she nodded firmly, "that she is somewhere, now, pranking her brother Percy – our third son, who died a year after she did."

She shook herself. "Ah, here I am, talking about deaths that occured long before you were even born. Come, Headmaster Potter is waiting for you."

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Harry introduced Timothy to Diagon Alley, and discovered that the boy liked to ride the Gringotts carts as much as he did. So much, in fact, that he begged the goblin on the way back to make just a little detour.

Griphook, now one of the managers of Gringotts, and always the one to assist Harry, grinned.

"Would you like a really steep dive?" he asked, pointed teeth glistening in the semi dark.

After a wild ride, they were back up with very messy hair and a big smile on their faces.

"That was fun!"

Harry and Griphook exchanged an amused glance.

After making sure Tim's tuition would be paid to the Hogwarts vault annually, Harry got some cash, and they bought Tim's school supplies.

"Can I get a few extra books?" Tim asked shyly, expecting the professor to get angry.

"Of course. Wait, let's sort out your allowance straight away."

Harry handed him some money.

"I'll pay for your school things. This is money for the holidays. You can buy books or some other things you like. When term begins, I will give you spending money for when you're at school."

Tim thanked him, and quickly returned to the counter with Hogwarts: A History and some potions books.

"Looks like Professor Snape influenced you already," the Headmaster grinned.

"And would that be a bad thing, Professor Potter?" they heard a silky voice behind them.

"Merlin Severus! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Harry clutched his chest in mock-fright, "to make it up to me, YOU can take Tim here to the apothecary for his potions kit!"

Tim watched as the professor raised one eyebrow. He loved that move. It looked cool. He'd have to practice on it.

"Very well," the man drawled, "at least I can make sure he gets quality supplies. Come, Timothy. I'll show you what Potions are REALLY like."

Robes billowing, and Tim breaking into a run to keep up, they left, leaving a puzzled Harry to pay for the books.

"Drat. Greasy git tricked me into paying for the extra books too," Harry grumbled, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

They met up a while later at Florean's.

"Can I read my new Hogwarts book?" Tim asked, his mouth full of strawberry icecream.

"Not yet," Harry said, "there are somethings you need to know first. Things you need to hear from us."

Tim looked up in surprise. "Is that why you asked for a private booth?" he asked.

"Yes," the Headmaster replied, "Tim…when you go to Hogwarts you will hear much about the war with an evil wizard named Voldemort. A war that Molly and Arthur, and Professor Snape and I were heavily involved in."

Tim listened wide-eyed.

"The Headmaster defeated Voldemort, Timothy," Professor Snape looked paler than usual, he saw, and to his surprise, Professor Potter put a hand on the older man's arm and squeezed it support.

"That war has been over for thirty years now, but the Wizarding World still feels it's effects…the lives lost…"

"Aunt Molly told me about her son and daughter," Tim said uncomfortably.

Harry sighed. "Let me start at the beginning," he said.

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An hour later, Tim was staring at the two men with disbelief in his eyes.

"Prophesy? And…and…" he stuttered, turning to Professor Snape, "you killed…"

Severus Snape's face changed into an emotionless mask.

"You were both really, really brave," Tim said in awe.

The other two were too surprised to react. Tim continued. "Are prophesies…really real, then?"

Professor Potter considered his answer. "A very wise man once told me that prophesies only work when the people involved want it to be true. He said that if Voldemort and I both had chosen to ignore the prophesy about the two of us, we would never have been destined to fight each other. He said, a few years before that, that it is our choices, not our abilities, that shows who we truly are. And no matter what, there is usually a choice."

Tim got a very eery feeling of foreboding when the Headmaster looked at him again.

"Tim, I…I find myself on Headmaster Dumbledore's side of the table this time. There is…is a prophesy made that might apply to you. Note I said 'might'. We are still investigating it with the help of the Unspeakables. And remember what I just told you. You don't have to let it dictate your life."

Going pale, Timothy stared at the two men for long minutes.

"Then what does it say?" he finally asked.

"Tim…"

"What does it say? I don't have to know how to interpret it. I just want to know."

Hesitatingly, the Headmaster repeated the prophesy.

"Pretty vague, eh?" Tim commented.

Professor Snape snorted. "Indeed. You would do well to work hard at school, knowing this. But working hard in school would have been advisable anyway. Other than that, you are a child. We do not expect you to do what Headmaster Potter had to do. We did learn from the mistakes made thirty years ago. We will keep you informed, but we also want you to enjoy your time at Hogwarts."

Tim nodded. "I'll train, anyway. Maybe you are right, Headmaster, and this will never come to pass. Maybe it doesn't even apply to me. There are loads of possibilities. I'll just do my best at Hogwarts."

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A few weeks later, another child with messy black hair stepped through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ with the Weasleys to begin his first journey to Hogwarts.