John's mobile rang at half-past eleven that night, just as he was settling down with a whiskey and trying to process the day's developments. The caller ID showed a number he hadn't seen in months, but the name made him pause mid-sip.
Tim Hunter.
"Well, well," John muttered, glancing toward the bedroom where Harry was sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks. "Speak of the devil."
He answered on the third ring. "Tim. Been a while."
"Hello, John." The voice on the other end was older than it should be, carrying the weight of someone who'd seen too much too young. At fifteen, Tim Hunter sounded more like thirty. "Heard you've taken on another stray."
John wasn't entirely surprised. Tim had a way of knowing things, especially things that concerned the magical community. Part of being destined to become the most powerful magician who ever lived, John supposed.
"News travels fast," John said, lighting a cigarette despite the late hour.
"It does when it involves Constantine taking custody of a six-year-old with enough raw power to light up half of London," Tim replied dryly. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking the alternative was him becoming an Obscurus and taking out a few city blocks," John shot back. "Call me sentimental."
There was a pause. "That bad?"
"Worse. Kid's been systematically abused for years, told his magic was evil, locked in cupboards when it manifested. Classic conditions." John took a drag, remembering Harry's frightened face in that alley. "Ring any bells?"
Another pause, longer this time. Tim Hunter had his own history with being told his power was dangerous, with people trying to control or eliminate him rather than teach him.
"Where is he now?" Tim asked.
"Asleep. Finally. Poor kid's been having nightmares about going back to his relatives."
"And the authorities?"
"Had a visit from Dumbledore today. Turns out the old man's more reasonable than I expected. We've worked out an arrangement."
"Dumbledore?" Tim's voice sharpened with interest. "That's... unexpected. He usually prefers to work through intermediaries."
"Yeah, well, apparently this situation required a personal touch." John blew smoke toward the window. "Kid was close to becoming an Obscurus, Tim. Six months, maybe less."
"Christ." There was real concern in Tim's voice now. "You managed to stabilize him?"
"For now. Basic mental walls, containment exercises. But he's going to need more than what I can give him on my own."
"I could come down," Tim offered. "Take a look at the boy, maybe help with his training. I remember what it was like, having that much power at that age."
John considered this. Tim Hunter at fifteen was more magically accomplished than most adult wizards, but he was also still young enough to relate to Harry in ways John couldn't. And having someone who understood the burden of enormous magical potential...
"Yeah," John said finally. "That might not be a bad idea. Kid could use someone who understands what he's going through."
"I'll be there tomorrow evening. And John? Be careful. Dumbledore may be reasonable, but he's also playing a much bigger game than most people realize."
"I figured as much. Any specific warnings?"
"Just... remember that to him, we're all chess pieces. Well-cared-for chess pieces, but pieces nonetheless. The trick is making sure your interests align with his."
The line went dead, leaving John alone with his whiskey and a growing appreciation for the complexity of the situation he'd stumbled into.
The next evening, Tim Hunter knocked on the door exactly when he'd said he would. John let him in with relief—after a day of magical exercises and explaining basic supernatural concepts to a six-year-old, it would be good to talk to someone who understood the complexities of power and responsibility.
Tim looked older than his fifteen years, tall and serious with dark hair and eyes that had seen too much. But when he saw Harry peeking out from behind John, his expression softened into something approaching a smile.
"So you're the famous Harry Potter," Tim said, crouching down to Harry's level. "I'm Tim. John used to teach me magic too."
"Really?" Harry asked, suddenly interested. "Are you powerful like me?"
"More powerful, probably," Tim said honestly. "But when I was your age, I was just as scared and confused as you are."
"I'm not scared anymore," Harry said, though he moved closer to John as he said it.
"Good," Tim said. "That's the first step. Want to see something cool?"
Without waiting for an answer, Tim held out his hand. Light began to gather in his palm, swirling and condensing until it formed a perfect miniature dragon that spread its wings and flew in lazy circles around the room.
Harry's eyes went wide with wonder. "How did you do that?"
"Practice," Tim said simply. "Lots and lots of practice. And having someone who believed I could do it."
He glanced meaningfully at John, who was watching the interaction with something like pride.
"The thing about having lots of power," Tim continued, letting the light dragon dissolve, "is that everyone expects you to be either a hero or a monster. But really, you're just a person who happens to be able to do extraordinary things."
Harry nodded solemnly, as if this was the most important thing anyone had ever told him.
"John's teaching me to build walls in my head," Harry said. "To keep the bad thing quiet."
Tim's expression grew more serious. "That's very important. Can you show me?"
For the next hour, Tim worked with Harry on the mental exercises John had taught him, offering refinements and improvements born of his own experience with controlling vast amounts of power. Harry proved to be a remarkably quick study, his natural sensitivity making up for his lack of formal training.
"He's good," Tim said quietly to John while Harry practiced. "Natural talent, strong will, and the kind of focus you usually don't see in kids his age."
"Trauma will do that," John replied grimly. "Kid's had to learn self-control the hard way."
"Still. He's got potential beyond anything I've seen." Tim watched Harry work, his expression thoughtful. "John, have you considered what happens when he gets older? When all that power fully manifests?"
"One crisis at a time," John said. "Right now, I'm just trying to keep him stable and happy."
"Fair enough. But you should know—Dumbledore's going to want to get involved in his training eventually. Properly involved, not just this informal arrangement you've worked out."
John raised an eyebrow. "You know about our arrangement?"
"I know about most things that affect the magical community," Tim said. "And I know that Dumbledore doesn't make political compromises unless he sees a larger advantage."
"Such as?"
"Such as having the most powerful wizard of his generation trained by someone who teaches practical survival rather than theoretical ethics." Tim's smile was sharp. "Think about it, John. Harry's going to be a force in the magical world whether he wants to be or not. Dumbledore would rather have that force shaped by someone who thinks outside traditional wizarding education."
Before John could respond, Harry called out from across the room: "Tim? John? I think I did something."
Both men turned to see Harry standing in the middle of what looked like a perfect ward circle, glowing softly with contained energy. It was basic work, but impressively stable for someone who'd been learning magic for exactly one week.
"Bloody hell," John muttered.
"Yeah," Tim agreed. "That's what I was talking about."
Harry looked between them nervously. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, kid," John said, moving carefully around the ward circle. "You did something very, very right. But maybe we should work on controlling your power output. Don't want to light up the neighborhood."
As the evening progressed, Tim and John worked together to give Harry a broader foundation in magical theory and practice. Tim's light-weaving exercises were particularly effective—giving Harry a way to channel his power into something beautiful rather than destructive.
"It's like painting with starlight," Harry said in wonder, watching the miniature constellations Tim helped him create dance around the room.
"Exactly," Tim said. "Magic should be beautiful, Harry. Don't let anyone tell you it's just a tool or just a weapon. It's art, and science, and music all rolled into one."
Later, after Harry had gone to bed clutching his teddy bear and babbling excitedly about light dragons and star painting, John and Tim sat in the living room sharing a bottle of whiskey.
"He reminds me of myself at that age," Tim said quietly. "All that power, all that potential, and no idea what to do with it."
"You turned out alright," John pointed out.
"Eventually. With a lot of help and more than a few near-disasters." Tim took a sip of whiskey. "The difference is, Harry's got you from the beginning. Someone who understands that power without context is dangerous, but power with the right guidance can change the world."
"No pressure or anything," John said dryly.
"None at all," Tim grinned. "Just the future of magical Britain riding on whether you can turn an abused kid into a stable, ethical, incredibly powerful wizard."
"When you put it like that, it sounds almost impossible."
"Good thing we both specialize in impossible things."
They drank in comfortable silence for a while, watching the London lights twinkle through the grimy windows. Finally, Tim spoke up again.
"He reminds me of myself when you first found me," Tim said quietly. "Scared, confused, everyone telling me my power was either a blessing or a curse, but no one explaining what it actually meant."
"You weren't quite as traumatized," John pointed out.
"No, but close enough." Tim took another sip. "I'm glad he's got you from the start, John. Makes all the difference, having someone who understands that we're people first, magicians second."
"Yeah, well," John said gruffly, "someone's got to look out for kids like you two."
"Exactly." Tim smiled slightly. "That's what he needs to know—that there are others like him. That having this much power doesn't make you a freak or a weapon. Just... different."
"I'll make sure he knows that. And Tim? Thanks for coming down. Kid could use an older brother figure who's been through similar."
"Happy to help. Besides," Tim's grin turned mischievous, "wait until he's a teenager. You're going to need all the backup you can get."