Resting on his side, Harry curled even more into himself. While he wasn't really cold, he wasn't exactly warm either. Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to continue sleeping, even though the sun was making that rather difficult. A twig snapped on the other side of the tent then, causing him to sit straight up. He grabbed his glasses and fumbled with them as he attempted to put them on. He noticed instantly that he was alone in the tent.

"Dad?" he softly said, hoping the noise was just his father walking around. He craned his head towards it to hear if there was a reply. He heard nothing. Swallowing slowly, he reached for his wand, pointing it at the entrance of the tent. If anyone tried coming in, that person was going to be blasted into a tree. Harry would make sure of it. Even though, he knew he wasn't necessarily allowed to use magic outside of school. Another twig snapped followed by leaves rustling. "Dad?" he repeated, raising his voice by a trace. He then heard something growl. Whatever it was, it sounded big and scary.

"Are you going to join me, Harry? Or are you just going to point your wand at me and hope for the best?" his father asked from the other side of the tent.

"Don't do that," grumbled Harry, slowly getting up and walking out. He frowned when he saw his dad stirring something in the pot over their fire. "Is that breakfast?" It looked like some sort of sludge that Harry had seen in Neville's cauldron before.

"It is." His father then grabbed a bowl, pouring a ladle-full of helping into it. "Eat up. You'll need your strength."

Harry grabbed it from him, frowning slightly. He then picked up a spoon before taking his first bite. He suppressed his grimace as the spicy food slid down his esophagus. He then glanced towards his dad when he noticed a small vial in his outstretched hand.

"What's that?"

"Nutritional supplement," his dad simply answered, taking a bite of his own breakfast.

"Yuck," Harry groaned after drinking it. He didn't care if his father was watching him. He made a face, running his teeth against the top of his tongue in a failed attempt to get rid of the nasty taste. "That was . . . wrong!" He shuddered, spitting a moment later. The taste just would not leave his mouth.

"If you spit that out again, you'll regret it. It is for your health, Harry, not for you to like."

"You could have added—I don't know—cherry flavor or something to it."

"Oh, yes, forgive me," his father drawled. "Truly, I am an idiot for forgetting that taste means more to you than your health." He then growled, shaking his head. "If it tasted wonderful, then I assure you it would not be healthy. Such things rarely are." His dad stood up then. "Eat your breakfast. We will be touring Chillingham—"

"Another castle, Dad, really?" groaned Harry. "Can't we just go somewhere fun?"

"This is what's wrong with your generation," his dad mumbled. "You have zero appreciation for architecture, folklore, defense strategies, actual historical events, hell, anything of value."

Harry just barely managed to stifle his laughter. His dad sounded so old. Who really cared about any of that stuff? Well, defense strategies were a maybe for Harry, as long as it was of the magical kind, not Muggle. Sure, that sword he saw yesterday at Bamburgh was pretty cool. Who would have thought people in the Middle Ages would know how to design such intricate patterns into swords? And, well, he'd admit that he thought it was rather funny touring Neville Tower. He then glanced at his dad. His dad's reaction to that was priceless, too. His dad nearly had a heart attack when the tour guide said that Neville Tower was up ahead. Plus, the way his dad's left eye twitched— Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, remembering that.

"And just what is so funny?" his dad growled, glaring at him.

"Not-nothing," Harry stuttered through his loud laughter.

"Then quit laughing, or I shall make sure you never laugh again." His dad ground his teeth together, clearly annoyed at Harry. "You were not uninterested when the guide informed us about Lady Armstrong ordering her subjects to move the clock bell to the other side of the castle."

The young boy smiled softly, biting his tongue. He hadn't necessarily been interested because of some lady moving a clock bell. At the time, he had been strolling down memory lane, recalling how his father had once destroyed a clock that was in his opinion 'ticking too loudly.' Maybe they were related to that Lady Armstrong.

"Wipe that smirk off your face this moment," his dad growled, clenching his jaw tightly.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, still smiling softly.

~FTT~

A half-hour later, Harry glanced at the castle in front of him. He wanted to bang his head repeatedly against the wall. Architecture: Stone Age-like, in other words, it was really, really, really old. Folklore: people died. Lots of people died horrible, gruesome deaths. Defense strategies: home to an infamous torturer, what more should be said? Actual historical events: people were tortured and killed. A boy actually was found buried in a section of the castle's walls. Yep, he appreciated all that.

"Now, as I've been stating—"

Harry inwardly groaned. He wished their guide would just shut up. All the man did was state this and that. A heavy hand on his shoulder made Harry sigh. Yes, Dad, thought Harry, picking up his pace. His eyes darted to the numerous windows. While it was tragic—really the entire castle's history was—Harry would have killed for one of the rumored ghosts jumping out of a window or something. Oh, how he missed Hogwarts.

"It's the home of torturers," the guide stated, pointing towards the large castle they approached. "Ninety-seven percent of everybody who went into that castle didn't come out."

Funny, that happens at Hogwarts too sometimes, Harry mused. He then groaned loudly when the guide smiled widely. The man was going to say something really cheesy now.

"It's said to be a horrible killing machine."

"Yeah, so are you," the young boy mumbled, yelping when a hand suddenly cuffed the back of his head. He whirled around, glaring at his father.

"Keep moving."

Yeah, because we don't want to miss any of the wicked architecture, do we, Dad? Harry grumbled in his head. This had to be one of the most boring things he had ever done. And that was saying something since he had Binns for History of Magic. No one could make a person fall asleep like Binns. Harry then snorted. He had gotten his best sleep in History of Magic last term.

When a lady wearing a long dress walked past, Harry thought for a split second about shouting 'Look! It's Lady Berkeley.' However, he wasn't willing to be hit again. On the other hand, it would at least add some adventure to this drag. The guide then led them through the doors, allowing them to enter the castle for the second time.

"Keep up. Keep up," the guide said, walking faster towards the stairs.

Harry laughed softly. The guide now sounded like Ron's brother Percy. For that matter, the guide probably was Percy. That was if one just ignored the fact the guy had blond hair instead of red. When they stopped in front of one of the rooms, Harry sighed.

Oh, a bedroom, how intriguing, he thought sarcastically. His brows then furrowed. He had sounded just like his dad. He suppressed a shudder. Any minute now he was going to call the guide a dunderhead and take points. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea.

"Two hundred points from, um, Hufflepuff," Harry uttered softly. That was pretty awesome.

"Why Hufflepuff?" his dad asked in hushed tones next to him, a moment later.

"Well, I'm not taking points from Gryffindor, Dad." The young boy heard his dad snort as they continued. It was about five minutes afterwards that his dad walked towards one of the displays on Muggle apothecary. Harry glanced around for a second, sighing. Well, he might as well act like he was looking at stuff before he was in trouble again. He walked off towards the display of Muggle weapons. Most of the weapons he noticed were badly rusted and in need of a good cleaning spell. Harry smiled. He sounded as if he had grown up around magic all his life now.

"Harry Potter!" something to his left squeaked.

The young boy's eyes instantly narrowed on the house elf. Where had that came from? He then glanced around. No one appeared to have noticed it yet. This one didn't look at all like his dad's elf.

"So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir. Such an honor it is."

"Uh, thank you," replied Harry. "Um, who are you?"

"Dobby, sir," the small creature answered, "just Dobby."

"Well, um, can I help you, Dobby?" Harry glanced around, hoping his dad or even the Muggles didn't see him talking to the little elf. He couldn't only imagine what his father would do then.

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby." The house elf's green eyes widened saucer size. "Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . . ."

"Why are you here?" This elf was starting to get on his nerves. Okay, so maybe that was because he was talking to a magical creature with a castle full of Muggles around, but still.

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he doesn't have to shut his ears in the oven door later." The house elf then grabbed at his trousers. "Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

"What? Why?" Harry demanded. The house elf glanced towards the group of Muggles just a few feet from them mischievously. "Please don't!" Harry whispered harshly, not liking for a moment the look in the elf's eyes.

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts," the house elf reiterated firmly prior to snapping his fingers. The elf then vanished, but the damage was already done.

"AH!" their fellow tour guests screamed as several of the suits of armor came alive.

Harry gulped when his dad glared at him. He so did not do that. He then watched his dad barely move his finger resting beside his leg, casting a spell it seemed that froze the attacking suits in place. Well, at least the Muggles weren't screaming anymore.

"What did you do?" his dad growled, grabbing his shoulder roughly.

"Mummy," a little girl softly said near them, tugging on her mum's dress.

"Not now," the girl's mother said, clutching her chest.

"I didn't do anything, Dad," Harry answered.

"But, Mummy," the little girl whined a little louder than Harry and his dad.

"Do you understand the seriousness of your—?" Harry's dad growled.

"But, Mummy," the little girl cried, "I did magic."

Snape and Harry's heads instantly snapped towards the little girl. They both watched the young mother instantly become flustered, hushing her child while laughing it off as her daughter joking. The others on the tour seemed to be still trying to slow their hearts down, not hearing the mother and child.

"Did you see it, Mummy? I did magic."

"Shh, sweetheart, magic isn't real," the young mother said, smiling nervous at Harry's dad and Harry. "You know that." A moment later, she turned around and briskly walked towards the exit.

"I think you owe me an apology, Dad," Harry grumbled.

"You are staying by my side every second of the day from now on," his dad stated, frowning as he watched the young mother leave with her daughter.

"Fine," the young boy mumbled. Considering that he wasn't really convinced that it was the little girl's fault, he wasn't going to argue. Harry was only half listening when he heard the tour guide say that the tour was over, along with the foolish explanation that the animated suits were planned. The magical display clearly flustered the tour guide, which Harry could understand. Magic wasn't supposed to be real for Muggles. It was like discovering that there were such things as ghosts. Frowning, Harry followed his dad out of the castle. He stopped immediately when he watched his dad open a car door.

"Come, Harry. That is unless you plan on walking to our next destination."

The young boy shook his head, though, sliding into the backseat of the taxi next to his dad. He hoped and prayed it wasn't another castle. After that one, he hoped never to see another castle again. In Harry's mind, Hogwarts didn't count. That was home for him.

~FTT~

A day later, Harry walked through the lush gardens that surrounded Cragside House. The actual house tour wasn't too long for him. In fact, he could have been seeing things, but it seemed as if his dad was actually walking rather quickly through it in order to reach the gardens. They, the gardens, were extremely beautiful. He'd give it that.

Everywhere he looked, there were either natural or manmade waterfalls. Fresh flowers lined the paths, intoxicating the guests as they continued. It smelled heavenly in Harry's opinion, and he never wanted to go back. This he could get used to. Even his dad seemed to enjoy it immensely.

They continued down the walkway, his dad pointing out every now and then what genus a certain flower was. Harry of course thought the man was just showing off how smart he was again. They walked into the woods, following the gently flowing stream. Birds chirped happily all round them. And every now and then, Harry pointed out a butterfly, smiling widely as he did.

"Does the Forbidden Forest have anything like this?" Harry suddenly asked after they had been walking in silence for five minutes.

"It has a lush area, yes, but not nearly as wondrous as this is," his dad answered quietly. "However, as you know, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to students."

"Unless someone informs your Head of House that you and your friends are breaking curfew," the young boy mumbled, remembering Professor McGonagall catching him and his friends.

"Punishment or not, those woods are not something students should be in without an adult." His dad frowned. "For that matter, students shouldn't even be in there with an adult. It is the Forbidden Forest for a reason. Honestly, I do not know what they were thinking by sending you four in there."

"You and Mum never went off by yourselves, exploring the forest?"

"She would have had my head if I had even suggested it." His dad then sighed. "However, I'll admit that I did go into the Forbidden Forest numerous times as a student without her knowledge."

"Why?"

"For various reasons," his father answered. "Most of the time, however, it was to visit Paradise."

"Paradise?" repeated Harry, narrowing his eyes.

"A place in the forest that Aurora showed me long ago," his dad replied quietly.

"Oh," Harry said, hanging his head. His unintentional slips of the tongue were starting to get confusing. He had meant Professor Sinistra when he had said 'Mum' earlier. To his dad, however, she was always Aurora, not Mum like Harry thought. Mum stood for Harry's real mum, and only her. "She didn't like you breaking rules?"

"Your mother was always one for following the rules, no matter what they were. If she learned that I had been caught breaking curfew, she'd lecture me until dinner about it. And if she learned I had been caught with Aurora, oh, I'd hear about it for days."

"She didn't like her?"

"Your mother believed Aurora was the reason I joined the ranks. No matter how many times I stated otherwise, she'd always refute it."

"Why'd she think that?"

"It's very rare to have a Slytherin, especially a pureblood one as Aurora is, not have some sort of prejudice or blood lust towards Muggles," his father explained, glancing at him. "Your mother knew that, as did many others. So, unfortunately, your mother believed her to be too good to be true, causing a tremendous amount of distrust between the two."

Harry glanced to the stream bank, frowning. He wasn't really surprised to learn that she didn't get along with his mother. He wasn't sure if he could get along with his mother for that matter. He then looked at his dad before sighing.

"Dad?" he quietly said. "If she was so against breaking rules, well, why'd she be with you when she was already married?" He saw no visible reaction from his dad at his words.

"As you no doubt read in her letter, she believed that her child with me would be special."

"Because I somehow beat that dark wizard?" the young boy asked in disbelief. "But I didn't even really beat him until a few weeks ago."

"I won't even begin to understand how she knew, but the fact remains that she was correct. You will be an extremely powerful wizard once you master your magic."

"How do you know that, though? I mean, Ron and Mione were with me down in the chamber. They could have helped me or something." He knew he was grasping at straws, but he didn't want to be some powerful wizard, though. He just wanted to be a normal boy who had a family that loved him.

"What occurred when you touched Professor Quirrell?" his father asked quietly, staring straight ahead as they continued their walk.

"I killed him."

"No, specifically, Harry, what happened when you touched him?"

"I burned him."

"And . . .?" his father prodded, still refusing to look towards him.

"He turned him into a pile of ash, but Professor Dumbledore said that was because of my mother sacrificing herself for me." The young boy watched his dad nod once.

"I believe Miss Granger informed you of the legend surrounding your defeat of the Dark Lord when you were a toddler, yes?"

"I was the one who survived," Harry said. "It's why everyone calls me the Boy-Who-Lived."

"True," his dad replied, nodding thoughtfully.

"You think she knew that'd happen?"

"I am unaware what she knew and what she didn't know, but she appears to have been correct. You have thus far been special, doing things that grown wizards have been unable to do."

"Maybe I'm just lucky."

"Perhaps that is all it is," his father agreed.

Harry wasn't convinced that his dad really agreed with that, but his dad seemed to want to let the matter drop for now. They continued down the path, heading deeper into the woods. Around them were the sounds of nature hard at work. Bees buzzed around them, pollinating the numerous bloomed flowers. Birds chirped, flying from tree to tree. Every now and then, Harry caught a glimpse of a forest animal, darting between bushes in search of food.

"What the—?" his dad murmured suddenly, touching the back of his head before removing a thin stick from his hair. His dad glanced towards him for a moment prior to drawing his wand.

"Dad, is something wrong?" Harry then noticed several quivering bushes.

"We mean you no harm," his dad spoke loudly. "We are merely passing through your woods." Another stick flew through the hair, striking Harry's dad in the chest. "We are of no harm to you."

Harry's mouth opened when he watched several hundred stick-like creatures emerge from the bushes, chattering loudly amongst them. They seemed really angry. The young boy stepped closer to his father as the creatures slowly encircled them. He had never seen anything like them before.

"What are they?" Harry whispered.

"Bowtruckles," his dad answered, frowning. His dark eyes darted between the creatures, likely attempting to find the leader of the large group. "Your home tree is safe. We require no wood from your trees. We are merely walking through your forest to reach Hexham. I give you my oath that we mean you no harm." His dad's voice was calm and very soothing as he spoke.

Harry tilted his head when he noticed a tiny Bowtruckle approach them. He'd guess it was a baby one. He then heard his dad mumble something under his breath, but he didn't catch what his dad had said. Watching the baby Bowtruckle very carefully, the young boy noticed it favoring its arm.

"Dad, I think it might be hurt."

"So I see." His dad then slowly inhaled, lowering his wand in a sort of nonthreatening way. "May I examine it? I perhaps might be able to assist you."

The tiny creature instantly rushed back towards the group, hiding behind a larger one. A few moments later, another Bowtruckle approached slowly, one who appeared to be the eldest. The gathering appeared to watch it very carefully. When it stopped in front of Harry's dad, the creature made a gentle motion with its hand.

Slowly inhaling, the young boy watched his dad run his wand down its small body. He could tell that the group seemed very nervous by this action, but stayed back for some reason. He then heard his dad incant something very softly. Chewed on his bottom lip, Harry tried his best to ignore the creaking and popping as a bluish shimmer passed down the Bowtruckle. He hoped his dad knew what he was doing. To him, these creatures didn't seem to be all that nice. Then again, that might have been because Harry was focusing primarily on their long sharp fingers that made them look like Edward Scissorhands, a character in a movie that Harry had found Uncle Vernon crying to while he watched it once.

"Is it all right?" asked Harry after the Bowtruckle stopped shimmering.

"It will be." His dad then glanced at the rest of the fearful faction. However, when the now healed Bowtruckle raised his long razor-like fingers in a threatening way, likely to motion them onwards, Harry and his dad continued on their way, leaving them behind.