Arriving at Scarborough a bit later, Harry and his dad took in the sights. The beach was in clear walking distance of their hotel, actually just a few moments from it. Still getting their bearings so to speak, though, they remained fairly close to their hotel. His father in fact used the time to clean himself up, shaving off his unfortunate beard. As surprising as it was to learn for Harry, Professor Kettleburn informed them prior to their leaving that they had been held by Rowan for six weeks and a day.

If someone had asked them if it felt like that, though, they'd have said no. It felt as if they had been with her for a few days at most, not six weeks. Then again, the enchantment placed on the flowers by Rowan's kin was a very powerful sleeping agent, as stated by Madam Pomfrey according to his dad. Though, the fact could not be ignored that even after six weeks of being held by a dryad, they weren't any worse for wear. In fact, as his dad had said earlier, both he and Harry appeared healthier, more energetic, and livelier than before as a result of their time with her. In fact, they both seemed to have a bit of a healthy tan going. Not that they noticed it or even cared about such things. With all that, they weren't exactly signing up for another round with Rowan anytime soon, though.

In fact, it was depressing to learn, but Harry had missed his twelfth birthday thanks to Rowan. So, his dad informed him that the entire next day at Scarborough would be whatever the young boy wanted to do. Within seconds, Harry replied that they were going to spend the day at the beach. His father merely inclined his head with a bit of a sour look on his face. Clearly, he didn't like the idea.

~FTT~

Harry tried and failed to hide his smile as his father walked down the wooden stairs, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and black swim trunks. While the man was nowhere near as pale as he had been at the start of their summer or even usually, he wasn't exactly a bronze beach god either. Though, the young boy knew that he didn't have much room to talk either.

"You know, I sort of wish someone took pictures of us, Dad," Harry joked, wearing a pair of blue and white swim trunks. He silently removed his glasses, placing them next to their already laid out beach towels before running a hand through his shaggy black hair that had lengthened considerably in the six weeks time. "I mean, think about all the girls that'd be—"

"Most definitely not," his father replied sternly, removing his dark blue t-shirt and tossing it onto their towels. His tan was now quite noticeable against the pale skin of his chest and back.

"Killjoy," Harry mumbled before running towards the waves crashing against the beach. His smile widened as he hit the water, instantly cooling himself off under the scorching sun. He swam out, turning around as soon as he believed he was far enough out.

"Were you expecting me to wait on the beach all afternoon, Harry?" his father stated, treading water beside him.

"You can swim?"

"I can do many things." His dad then dove underwater, fully submerging himself before rising a moment later. He ran his left hand through his long raven hair, brushing it back from his face while also unintentionally showing his son his unmarked left forearm. "I'll admit that I rarely swim, especially in this sort of setting," his dad admitted.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my dad?" Harry asked jokingly. "I mean, first, you agree to eat at Pizza Hut and now this? What's next, Dad? A tattoo?" teased the young boy.

"How hilarious, you cheeky brat," his father replied.

"Seriously, Dad, when was the last time you swam?" Harry noticed his dad glance away for a moment before the man quietly responded.

"I'd say the last time I was in the water voluntarily for so-called fun," he sighed softly, "was with your mother, our fourth year I believe, in Black Lake. She loved the water, the feeling she'd have after emerging from it." His father shook his head. "I, on the other hand, hated it. I was uncomfortable with how I appeared like many of my peers. So, many times I regrettably excused myself from accompanying her, electing instead to study for my classes."

Harry frowned. His mum loved to swim. There was something he had never known. He then shook his head. This time with his father wasn't supposed to be sad. It was supposed to be fun and, well, informative he figured. Forcing his smile back to his face, he splashed a bit of water at his father, hoping that it'd move them onto another topic or at least distract them from the sadness.

His dad didn't disappoint. His father splashed the water back at him, causing Harry to burst out laughing instantly. Who would have thought that Severus Snape could be playful? Soon after, the two wizards engaged in a splash war, which Harry it seemed was losing horribly.

"Dad, Dad," Harry said through fits of laughter. "Dad, stop." His laughter poured out of him while he held his arms up to shield his face from the onslaught of water crashing against him. It was not lost on the boy for a second when the water suddenly stopped within mere seconds of his mirth-filled request. With a large smile still on his face, he glanced at the older man. "All right, Dad, you won," he stated happily.

"Yes, so I see, Harry," his father replied, smiling faintly.

The young Gryffindor then inhaled slowly before diving underwater to cool himself off. His shoulders and back felt horribly burnt, which he wouldn't be surprised if they were. When he reemerged, he opened his eyes, watering dripping into them a moment and forcing him to close them.

"Dad!" cried Harry, pressing his palms into his eyes as the stabbing pain in them became nearly intolerable. His eyes felt as if they were on fire, being stabbed, and any other horrifying thing imaginable all at the same time.

"What's wrong?"

"My eyes!" exclaimed Harry. He then felt his father grab his hands, trying to pull them back. "No! Don't!" The young boy could feel the tears, or at least he hoped they were tears, sliding down his cheeks. Something was wrong, very wrong.

"Keep calm," his dad commanded, gently tugging on his arm to head back to their hotel. It would not have been wise to have magically appeared in their hotel room with all the Muggles around.

Harry followed, not having any other option. Why did his eyes hurt so badly? He had expected some irritation, some stinging at the very least, but this was torture. The pain was nearly unbearable, causing him to bite his bottom lip to keep from screaming. What was happening to him?

The young boy stumbled as he approached the beach. His father's strong arms kept him upright. They stopped only once, likely to grab their shirts, shoes, towels, and Harry's glasses before continuing up the wooden stairs leading to their hotel. Behind them, the waves crashing against the beach faded.

"Is he—?" someone started to say.

"We do not require your assistance," hissed Harry's father, keeping his hand on Harry's elbow as he steered the young boy through the hotel.

After a short walk, Harry heard the familiar beep from the keycard his father had to unlock their room. He kept his eyes closed, fearing the worst. He was already blind as it was, even though he wore glasses. If he was fully blind now, well, he didn't know what he'd do then.

"Sit," his dad softly instructed, gently pushing him down on the edge of the bed to sit. "You might feel a tingle in your eyes."

Sure enough, the young boy felt the tingle in both of his eyes. It was an extremely odd sensation, luckily not hurting him. It took a moment to think clearly, but he guessed his father was cleaning his eyes out with a spell. He then felt his glasses as his dad gently placed them on his nose.

"Open your eyes now."

Harry did, frowning immediately. Everything was horribly blurry. He glanced towards his fuzzy father, well, indistinct at the very least.

"I-I can't see, Dad," he whispered, his stomach knotting. He couldn't be blind. He just couldn't be blind, not now, not on top over everything that had happened so far. "Everything's cloudy." Two long shapes then moved towards his face, causing him to wrench back on instinct.

"Easy, Harry," his father tenderly spoke. "I merely wish to try something. May I?" When Harry nodded, he gently removed the young boy's glasses. "How is your sight now?" he asked softly.

Harry blinked a few times, staring at his dad. He then blinked a few more times just to confirm what he was seeing was in fact true. Licking his lips slowly, he inhaled.

"I-I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"I can see you, but I shouldn't be able to. Even with my glasses, I, well, you were just a little blurry with it. I mean, not just a little bit ago, but before we went into the water. Dad, why can I see you without my glasses?" With clarity that he had never experienced before, he watched his father stare at him for a few moments before he finally sighed. "You thought this would happen, didn't you?" Harry's stomach clenched even tighter. He hated secrets. Well, unless they were his secrets that was. "It's why you brought us here."

"I had suspicions, yes," his father admitted quietly. "But I had no definitive proof, Harry."

"Until now," the young boy replied with betrayal and hurt underlying his words.

"Yes, until now," his dad agreed. His dad slowly inhaled, likely about to enter lecture mode. "The water here is considered by many to have healing powers. I was unsure how it would 'heal' you, but it appears that we have our answer now." His father frowned, sighing. "It appears that it removed your glamour your mother placed on you."

"So, I look like a completely different person, don't I?" The young boy then shook his head angrily, not really knowing why. "Great, like I didn't have enough to get used to," he mumbled.

"If I were you, I'd look in the mirror before I passed judgment over my appearance."

Harry frowned, standing up before he walked into their loo. He really didn't know why he was so angry about it. Didn't he want to be more like his real dad than look like someone he wasn't related to? He then kicked towards the floor grumpily. He didn't want to be a totally different person, though. He did have a great many other things he had to get used to that didn't involve that.

Glancing up, his eyes slowly widened. He wasn't really all that different from how he had appeared before. Well, that was if one ignored the hair lying flat for once. His hand rose to touch the glass, noticing that he seemed a bit taller than from that morning.

"An inch and a half," his dad stated, appearing in the doorway. "Your fingers have lengthened somewhat also, about a quarter of an inch I'd estimate." He said nothing as Harry inspected his fingers before moving onto his face. "You appear to have inherited my cheekbones, but the rest it would seem is from Lily."

"My hair's different, too, Dad," the young boy pointed out.

"Yes, the nest of pygmy puffs that normally reside in your hair appears to have retreated in favor of a more suitable habitat. In fact, I believe this is the first time I've ever seen your hair lie flat for once." He then snorted. "However, it does appear to be a bit unruly in spots still."

Frowning, Harry stared at his new self in the mirror. He couldn't see James in his face anymore. No, now he saw his dad. Well, actually, it was a bit tanner version of his dad. He then laughed softly, shaking his head.

"What amuses you?"

"I didn't really change all that much," the young boy replied, glancing at his dad. "I mean, my hair was already this long before we arrived." He crinkled his nose up slightly. "My eyes are the same color and shape they were before. I just don't need to wear my glasses anymore." Harry chewed on his bottom lip, thinking how the others would react. "I suppose I could say that I'm wearing contacts now if someone asks." He exhaled slowly, scrutinizing his appearance even more. "My cheekbones are a bit sharper, I suppose, but mine aren't as noticeable as yours are."

"Since living with me, your body likely has been correcting the deficiencies that resulted from the Dursleys' gross mistreatment of you," his father explained. "You are also still at the age where your body is able to correct itself rather quickly, whereas I am unable to do so."

"So, you're saying that if you had eaten better when you were my age, you'd be even more like me?" asked Harry.

"Most likely, yes," his dad answered quietly.

"That's why I had to drink those nasty potions for awhile, right? So my body would start to correct itself?" Harry watched his dad incline his head slowly. His green eyes glanced back to his appearance. "If I look like this with just a bit of you . . ." The young boy's voice trailed off. "Wow," he whispered. "I'm going to look good when I'm your age." He heard his father snort in response. "You're like what? Thirty-some?" guessed Harry.

"Thirty-two," his father responded.

"See, you're not that old." Harry then tilted his head left and right, frowning as he stared at his dad in the mirror. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look thirty-two, Dad."

"I'm aware. However, I've seen a great deal in my life, Harry."

"Oh," the young boy replied softly, lowering his gaze. He had forgotten, likely intentionally so, that his father had been on the dark side. His dad probably saw lots of horrible things that had caused him to look older than he was.

The young boy supposed he could relate, well, not truly, but he could at least understand it. Growing up in the Dursley household was the equivalent of an inmate in a prison. He was nearly used as a chew toy for a three-headed dog. He was almost decapitated by a troll's club in the girl's lavatory. He was brutally attacked in the Forbidden Forest, nearly dying as a result of his injuries. Then there was the face to face encounter with his parents'—James would always be considered his parent even if the man really wasn't—murderer. Lastly, they were held by Rowan for six weeks. After his short eleven years, he guessed that he'd likely look older too as a result of all those horrific events. He then sighed. If he had experienced all that, then just what horrors had his dad suffered?

"I look pretty good, don't I?"

"For a twelve year old boy," his father drawled, smiling faintly. He then turned on his heel, walking back into their main area.

Harry silently followed, narrowing his eyes when he saw the envelopes on his bed. He glanced towards his dad, noticing that his father was pointedly ignoring his own stack of letters. The young boy grabbed the top letter and instantly smiled when he recognized Hermione's handwriting. His green eyes then darted to his remaining letters. He had a letter from Ron, his family, and another from-well, he wasn't really sure who that one was from. Frowning, he picked it up, opening it. He scanned the letter, well, more of a note really, briefly, not recognizing the sloppy, almost kid-like handwriting.

Don't return to Hogwarts next term. It's not safe.

No explanation was given why the letter's writer thought it was unsafe. Then again, that crazy house elf hadn't explained either. Just those two lines were on the note, nothing more. Harry glanced towards his dad, sighing softly. No, he wouldn't tell the man about that warning or even about the crazy elf. Knowing his father, the man would likely overreact. Crumpling the note up in his hand, he tossed it into the rubbish bin. Someone was probably just trying to scare him. Nothing bad would happen. Doing his best to ignore the events in the chamber with Professor Quirrell, he thought to himself how nothing bad could ever happen at Hogwarts. At least, Harry was pretty sure that nothing would happen this year.

"Ron, his family, and Mione wrote me," the young boy quietly said, trying to brush off his slight uneasiness at reading the note. "What about you? Did any of your, um, did anyone write you?" He grimaced when his dad glanced at him. "Okay, fine, I see that you have letters. Who are yours from, Dad?" he asked, hoping the man would just answer the question and stop staring at him.

"No doubt, Madam Pomfrey has provided a list of potions she would appreciate me brewing for her to restock the hospital wing for the upcoming term. The headmaster likely sent me an updated version of my contract this term, along with the name of the new Defense professor. The rest concern Potions journals, likely wishing to know why I've canceled my subscriptions with them."

"You canceled all of them. Why?"

"Their idiotic editors appear to have decided that we Potions aficionados wish to turn a page to find a topless witch stirring a potion rather than to read what used to be informative articles."

"They seriously had that?"

"Among other things," his father replied, banishing the letters effortlessly. "What do Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley say other than the obvious of their worry for you being missing that long?"

Harry grabbed Hermione's letter and skimmed it. "Um, it's mostly about what she's been doing this summer. She's asking if I've finished my schoolwork, but she figures that I have." The young boy glanced towards his dad when he heard the man snort. "Want me to tell her that you've made me leave my schoolwork behind?" Harry laughed when his dad mildly glared at him.

"You will finish all of your schoolwork before we meet with the Weasleys and Grangers in Diagon Alley," his dad stated firmly. "We are merely partaking in a familial tradition."

"The Dursleys never-"

"I am aware of what they did and what they did not do, Harry. I was not speaking about them, however." His dad then sighed, releasing most of the tension that had suddenly entered his body at the mentioning of Harry's worthless guardians. "Most families, if they can afford it or have the patience and willpower, will take long vacations during their holidays. It typically brings families closer, which I believe you'll agree that we need." His black eyes then glanced towards Harry's small collection of letters, frowning. "I'll admit that this is the first time that I've ever gone on a vacation like this."

"Your parents didn't take you anywhere?"

"I went to the pub once with my father, but that was hardly a place one would wish to take a child." His dad's frown deepened. "To put it mildly, my father was a drunkard. Every pound he had went to the pubs, causing my mother to scrounge for food anywhere she could for us."

"I'm sorry," the young child quietly said, hanging his head.

Harry remembered scavenging for food, any sort of food scraps the Dursleys or others threw out. He couldn't believe that his father—well, his father's mother—had to do the same thing as he himself had to do in order to survive. It certainly explained a bit more about his father's bony appearance, though. He wondered if his dad was sick the first month of being at Hogwarts like he had been. He guessed that his dad probably was. Had his father hid it from his friends, too? Harry then frowned. Did his father have any friends? Sure, his dad and Professor Sinistra were close, hopefully closer if Harry had anything to say about it, but he wasn't sure if his dad considered her a friend or just his colleague now after the events with Rowan. Though, that went the same for most of the professors it seemed.

"Harry, I did not inform you of that to receive some form of sympathy." His dad shook his head slowly. "I merely stated that so you'd learn a bit about my family. I did not mean for you, however, to sympathize with me." His dad stared at him, drawing in a slow, even breath. "Events happen that we are not always in control of. As of now, though, I am able to provide for you, whether that is basic necessities like food and shelter or luxury items such as this vacation. I am merely attempting to provide you with all of the things you should have received from the Dursleys and deserved to have."

"I understand, Dad." Harry smiled faintly at him. "I think I'm going to reply to my letters now." He watched his dad nod slowly before grabbing the complimentary pen to write his replies. He had a lot to tell them since the last time he wrote. He then laughed as a crazy idea hit him. Reacting first, he asked, "Dad, can I send a picture of," he swallowed, his bravery rapidly dissipating, "um, well, a picture of us together?"