A/N: This is set in my Parents with a Cause universe (which can be read about on my profile page), and though it can be read as a stand-alone piece, it would probably be best if you at least read "The Squib" before this one as it introduces the character of Brinley. This universe is a crossover between Harry Potter, NCIS, and House, MD, but as the majority of the characters in this particular story are from Harry Potter, I'm sorting it there. Most of my stories are one-shots, but I realized that it would take rather a lot to introduce Harry, Dudley, and Liam and actually do them justice, so this one will probably be a couple of chapters long. Please REVIEW this chapter, though, and tell me if you like it and if there are particular things that need further clarification. (And, as always, feel free to comment on which situations/characters from the PWAC Universe you'd like to see more of in general).

Saturday dawned hot and dry. The grass beneath Harry's sneakers all but crunched as he trekked across the neighborhood to the far playground. It was an old wooden playground, and had fallen mostly into disuse since the new playground had been put up six years ago. At first, Harry had gone to this one because he was mostly free from Dudley's gang there. Then, in more recent years, it became even more important that he come to this particular playground.

Harry threw himself onto the one swing that hadn't been completely destroyed, dropping his backpack lightly on the ground beside him. He used his toe to lightly nudge himself back and forth, letting the lightest breeze lick his face even as his hands were torched by the metal chain of the swing set.

There was a rustling sound, and a moment later a small, wiry boy with a narrow face and shaggy black hair darted out from the underside of the jungle gym and sprinted over to the set.

Harry smiled wanly. "Hey, Liam."

"Heya, Harry," the boy replied. He leaned against the pole of the swing set and looked very carefully everywhere but at the backpack on the ground. "How've you been? How's your week been?"

Harry smiled slightly. He grabbed the strap of his backpack, pulled it off the ground, and swung it towards Liam. "Help yourself, mate. I managed a pretty good haul this week."

Liam pulled eagerly at the zipper on the bag and peered inside. "Whoo-ee, Har. You haven't managed a haul like this since Christmas. How'd you manage?"

The smile on Harry's face fell away. "My uncle was in the hospital, actually. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were away most of the week, so it was easy enough."

Liam frowned slightly even as he dug cans of food from the bag and stuffed them into the pockets of his oversized pants. "He okay?"

"He died last night," Harry said. "Something to do with his heart."

Liam took a bite out of a roll Harry'd nicked from the fridge. "Man. That sucks."

Harry shrugged. "Well, he was mostly pants as an uncle."

"Yeah," Liam said. "I suppose that's true enough. Well, anyway, my offer to you still stands. If it all gets to be too much with them…"

Harry shrugged again. "I'm alright, I think. But thanks."

"Thank you," Liam said, raising a baggie of grapes to Harry in mock-salute.

Harry slid off of the swing he was on. "Mazal tov."

Liam gave Harry a slightly concerned look. "You're not hanging out?"

Harry sighed. "Not really in the mood today. Rain check?"

"Yeah," Liam said. "Of course."

Harry took his newly emptied backpack from Liam and swung it back over his shoulders.

Brinley lay on his stomach atop his bed and thumbed through one of Severus's potions journals. In the weeks he'd been at Severus's house, his knowledge of potions had increased tenfold. Unfortunately, Brinley thought as he cast a derisive look at the computer magazine Severus had handed him the night before, so had his knowledge of other things.

There was a light tap on his bedroom door, and Brinley looked up to see Severus standing in the doorway. He was wearing jeans and an oxford shirt, and Brinley bit back a sigh, knowing that Severus only wore Muggle clothes when they'd be seeing his relatives. Honestly, Brinley had chosen to be adopted by Severus, not by the man's entire crazy family.

"Where to this time?" Brinley asked.

Severus frowned disapprovingly. "I need to talk to DiNozzo and Gibbs. You can play with Zach."

"I don't play," Brinley said. "Can't I just stay here? The elves can look after me. I only want to read."

"What you can do," Severus said, "is grab your jacket and hold your tongue. This family gets enough impropriety with the girl Wilson and House took in."

Brinley rolled his eyes, but he did place a marker in the potions journal he was working on and grab the robe he'd flung over the back of his chair.

"I said grab a jacket, not a robe," Severus sneered.

Brinley frowned. "What's it matter? It's not like they don't know about…"

"It matters," Severus said, "because you are my ward and I said for you to grab a jacket."

Brinley sighed, but he walked across the room to his closet and pulled out the windbreaker Severus had purchased for him. He scowled as he pulled it on. The material felt all wrong, and it made too much noise for a bit of cloth.

Severus sighed at Brinley's expression. "You have to get used to it eventually, Brinley. When you go to Heigward, robes will only make you stand out."

"That's stupid," Brinley said. "I was raised in a pureblood household. Why can't I act like it? I mean, I thought the whole purpose of this was to increase the understanding between wizards and non-wizards."

"It is," Severus said. "And as your father, I have been tasked with ensuring that your understanding is increased."

Brinley sighed, but he zipped the windbreaker up a bit.

The house was still and silent when Harry walked in through the back door. He frowned slightly. Dudley was always in and out of the house, but he'd expected Aunt Petunia to be home, making arrangements for Uncle Vernon's funeral. He might have thought that she'd left to make arrangements elsewhere, but she never would have left without ensuring there was someone to watch over Harry. She didn't trust him when she wasn't around.

Harry walked across the kitchen to the hallway with the intention of stowing his backpack in his cupboard. In the hallway, though, he paused. Aunt Petunia was lying on the couch, seemingly asleep, but something about the angle she was at seemed off. Harry's grip tightened on his backpack, and he crept into the living room.

There was an empty bottle of antidepressants lying beside Aunt Petunia's prone form. Harry took in a deep breath and forced himself to step closer to her—close enough to feel her breath on him, if she was breathing. Harry didn't feel anything. He swallowed hard, reached forward, and pressed his fingers against her wrist. She felt cold.

Harry stepped away from her. He felt shaky and slightly dizzy. He couldn't bring himself to feel sad about her death, but he felt something. Pity, at least, for his cousin. Harry didn't much like Dudley, but in the days since Uncle Vernon's death Dudley had begun to act almost like a human being, and Harry could only imagine how hard it would be for Dudley to lose his mother so shortly after.

But was she dead? Harry knew that doctors could sometimes do amazing things. There were these electric paddle things, and there was stomach pumping, and… Harry stepped towards the telephone, reaching for the receiver. He paused before his hand touched the telephone, though. If she was dead, then Harry wanted to get as far from this house as possible. He had no intention of going to an orphanage—between the fear of orphanages the Dursleys had instilled in him over the years and the conversations he'd had recently with Liam, he just knew he wouldn't make it in an orphanage—and if he called 112 he'd just be getting the cops to the house faster. On the other hand, if he didn't call and she could be saved… well, that was almost as good as killing her himself, wasn't it?

Harry grabbed the phone and dialed 112, and then he set the receiver to the side and went to the cupboard. He'd learned at school that the police could track a number somehow, and they'd send a dispatch car out the moment a number was dialed, so Aunt Petunia was taken care of, and without having to talk to the police himself, Harry had time to get his things together. He jogged over to his cupboard, wrenched the door open, and began filling his backpack with everything he owned.

The back door slammed open, and Dudley's voice called out, "Mum! I'm hungry!"

Harry rolled his eyes. Dudley was always hungry.

"Mum?" Dudley said.

Harry pulled himself out of his cupboard. Dudley was in the kitchen, and for a moment the two boys' eyes met.

"Where you going?" Dudley asked.

Harry frowned. He didn't know how to tell Dudley that his mother was… Harry shook his head. He said, "Your mum took some meds."

"What?" Dudley said, shouldering past Harry. He froze only a few steps into the living room, and when he spoke his voice was so desperate sounding that it pained Harry to hear. "Mum…"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I called 112. I'm sure they'll be here soon."

Dudley turned to Harry. "And what about you? What are you doing?"

Harry lifted his chin. "I'm getting out of here."

"What?" Dudley said.

"You heard the way that Uncle Vernon talked about orphanages," Harry said. "Canings and shitty food and no one giving a damn about you? I had it bad enough here, Dud. That's certainly not happening to me."

"Where are you gonna go?" Dudley asked.

Harry glanced toward the receiver in the living room, suddenly aware that someone was probably listening in on their conversation. He said, "Let's just say I've got friends in low places." He turned and walked out of the kitchen door.

He'd only made it half a block away when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned to see Dudley running after him, dragging a duffel bag behind him and panting heavily. Harry hesitated only a moment before stopping for Dudley to catch up. He said, "What are you doing, Dud?"

"I'm coming with you," Dudley said. "I don't want to go to an orphanage, either."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Dudley, how are you gonna survive the streets? You can't go five minutes without watching the telly."

"I'll manage," Dudley said. His piggy chin wobbled for a moment, and he sniffed heavily. "Anyway, we took care of you all this time. It's time you took care of me, isn't it?"

Harry wanted to point out that Dudley had never once taken care of Harry—that it had always been the other way around—but somehow it seemed to cruel a thing to say. Instead, he said, "I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't," Dudley said. "What's that matter? Mum and Dad didn't like you, either, but they still made sure you didn't starve to death."

That was true enough. Harry sighed and said, "Alright. Fine. You can come with me. Just don't blame me if you can't handle it."

Dudley said, "I can handle it just fine. Anyway, you haven't even seen what I brought with me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I hardly think your playstation is going to help us."

"I didn't bring that," Dudley said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. "I'm talking about this."

Harry stared at the money. "Where'd you get that?"

"Mum's purse," Dudley said. "Dad's wallet. My piggy bank. The ice cream truck money on the back of the counter."

"Dud!" Harry said.

"If she's dead, she won't be able to use it," Dudley said. "Anyway, I left all the cards."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That was smart, Dud."

Dudley shrugged. "Yeah, well… Anyway, you take it. You're a freak, but for all that, you're probably better at money than I am."

Harry took the bills from his cousin. He turned his backpack around and shoved the bills into the front pocket of his bag. Just as he was zipping the bag up, he heard sirens. Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, he grabbed Dudley roughly by the arm and shoved him behind a bush, tugging him down onto the grass.

"What are you doing?" Dudley asked, pulling his arm away from Harry.

"Do you want to get caught before we even get anywhere?" Harry snapped. "Stay down until they pass." With any luck, the police, knowing they had come from this direction, would start their search for Harry and Dudley elsewhere once they realized they boys were missing.

When Harry was sure that the police were gone, he stood up and held a hand out to Dudley. Dudley stood up, scowling as he brushed the mud from the back of his pants.

"Come on," Harry said. "It's not far from here."

Just outside the door to the Gibbs-Dinozzo household, Severus stopped and turned to Brinley. He said, "Mind your manners while we're in there."

"Yes, sir," Brinley said.

"And be nice to your cousin," Severus pressed.

Brinley thought about mentioning the fact that he and Zach weren't cousins—wouldn't be, really, even if the adoption went through—but he didn't figure that Severus would take it well. He was tetchy about those sorts of things. So Brinley simply nodded. "I'll behave, sir."

Severus nodded curtly before rapping smartly on the front door.

A moment later, the door opened and Zach's round face poked around it. He smiled at them. "Hey, Uncle Sev! And Brinners—nice to see you again."

Brinley grimaced at the nickname.

Zach said, "You know, Uncle Sev, there's a reason Dad keeps this door unlocked. You are allowed to walk in."

"Your father's tendencies aside," Severus said, "I will retain my propriety, and I would be remiss if I taught Brinley anything less."

"Right," Zach said, rolling his eyes. "Sure. Come on, Brin. Papa got my a new video game that I'm dying to try. I'll let you have a go."

"Video game?" Brinley said. He looked at Severus for clarification.

"You'll have to experience that one for yourself," Severus said. "My words would be insufficient to that task."

Brinley sighed, but allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs to Zach's room.

"This is your plan," Dudley asked dubiously. "We're gonna hide out in a broken-down old playground?"

"Just shut up a moment, Dudley," Harry said. He looked around the playground, trying to spot a shoelace or the corner of a t-shirt, but as far as he could tell, Liam wasn't around. Harry sighed and dropped tiredly onto the swing. "Look, I told you I had a friend, didn't I? He tends to hang around here, that's all."

"Well, what are we gonna do until he gets back?" Dudley asked.

"Dunno," Harry said. "Hang out, I guess."

"For how long?" Dudley said. "I mean, for Christ's sakes, how long do you think it'll be before the cops find us? We're not all that far from the house."

"We have to wait for my friend," Harry said, his voice sounding more sure than he really felt. "Trust me."

"Why should I trust you, Freak?" Dudley asked, but he sat down on the ground at the base of the swing set.

A few minutes later, there was a set of footsteps on the roadside, and then a voice shouted, "Harry? Back already?"

Harry managed the weakest of smiles for Liam as the younger boy jogged across the wood chips. He said, "I've come to take you up on your offer, Liam."

Liam stilled. "Have you now?"

"We ran into a bit of trouble at home," Harry said, gesturing towards Dudley. "My cousin and I. We haven't anywhere else to go."

"Well," Liam said, flashing a cheeky grin at Harry, "Mi casa, su casa. Although of course in this case 'casa' is a bit of a loose term."

Harry swallowed, looking around the playground where Liam tended to live. It was the place where Harry and Liam had first met, and where they'd met each subsequent time. As far as Harry knew, it was the only place Liam really called home. And yet Dudley, for all his idiocy, had struck upon one salient fact: they really weren't very far from home, and it would really be far too easy for the police to find them here.

Harry said, "Do you have any place else you go, Liam? The playground is… well, it's a bit too close to where we come from."

Liam frowned slightly, but then he nodded. "I'm not tied to here, Harry. I didn't even stay here more'n any place else, really, until I met you. I mean, it's just a playground—not a real shelter by any means. There's an abandoned sub shop a few blocks over that's a lot better for a permanent residence. C'mon, I'll show you guys the way."

Gibbs poured Severus a cup of coffee and slid it across the table to him. He said, "How's Brinley adjusting to your home?"

"He's exceedingly polite," Severus said. "Though I'd expect no less, considering his raise. The Grishams were always…extreme."

"Purebloods," Tony added by way of explanation. He grabbed a piece of pizza from the fridge and pushed half of it down his mouth.

Severus sneered at him. "You know, the wolf might well be the least disgusting member of your family tree."

"Dunno about that," Tony said around a mouthful of pizza. "Jimmy might have him beat."

Gibbs shook his head at Tony. "You realize you're supposed to be a mentor for our son?"

Tony swallowed his mouthful. "Oh, relax. Zach's still upstairs showing Brinley the finer points of Skyrim."

Gibbs said, "You'd think a fantasy game would lose its appeal to someone who knows about real magic."

"Why would it?" Tony asked. "Real magic's real, after all. Fantasy is still fantasy."

"And to think," Severus said, "I brought Brinley here under the delusional thought that you might be able to teach him something I could not. How remiss of me. I should have known he'd get a better education talking to a flobberworm."

"We're not teaching him anything," Tony said. "Zach is."

"Yes," Severus said coolly. "And who, exactly, is teaching Zach?"