A few days later, Harry walked in between Hermione and Ron as the trio walked towards the Hogwarts Express. It was a somber event for the most part. However, every now and then the friends smiled at one another as if it wasn't.

"Has the professor said where you'll be living this summer?"

"No, he's only said that we're not going home." Harry glanced over his shoulder, suppressing his smile just barely as he caught the dark shrouded man standing off in the distance. It was nice knowing that his dad was always watching. He turned back towards his friends, lowering his voice. "He doesn't seem to like where he lives."

"Wonder where he lives then," Ron quietly said, frowning. "You don't reckon he lives in a cave or something, do you?" He instantly glanced down when Harry glared at him. "Sorry, mate, old habit," the redhead softly mumbled.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "It was nice of the professor to allow you to walk down here with us."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Are you riding the train with us when it's time to go back?"

"Maybe," Harry answered, shrugging. "I don't know." He noticed Ron's look at him before the redhead moodily kicked at the ground. "You've had a father all your life, so it doesn't mean that much to you. It's all you know. But I haven't had that luxury, Ron," he growled.

"I get it," his friend mumbled, glaring at the dirt as they continued.

"I don't think you do."

"Fine, you know what, maybe I don't," Ron snapped. His head then snapped towards where Harry's dad stood watching them. "I'm glad you've got a dad, really I am, but he's Snape, Harry. Have you forgotten how that man treated you this year? He was a total git and then some to you."

"Ronald!" shrieked Hermione.

The redhead instantly glanced at her, clenching his teeth. He then scoffed, shaking his head. His mouth opened to speak but he only stormed off towards the front of the train.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what has gotten into him lately."

"It's all right, Mione," the young Gryffindor replied. "You better go." He gave her a soft smile when she embraced him a moment later. "Thanks," he whispered near her ear. He wouldn't have admitted it, but the hug did help a bit.

"He'll come around after he's had time to process it in his big, thick skull."

"Yeah," Harry quietly said, nodding slowly. He smiled faintly when Hermione hugged him again before she pulled back. He could see that she was trying to keep his spirits up. "Mione, I'm fine. Really, I am. It's just Ron being Ron again." At the sound of the warning whistle, he flashed a smile at her, motioning for her to get on the train already. He'd be fine. He had his dad. He watched her slowly walk up the steps, disappearing a moment later.

"Potter," Draco called out, slinking towards him while glancing about.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" There was just a hint of distrust in Harry's voice, surprising even him at it just being a hint.

"You all right?" the blond Slytherin softly asked, still glancing around.

"I'm not dead if that's what you're asking."

"That's not—" Draco then sighed, shaking his head. "Forget it, Potter. Just forget it." The Slytherin glanced towards the hill, staring at the looming black robed figure for a moment before silently walking onto the train.

The train whistled once more, releasing a massive amount of steam before it slowly started to move away from the station. Harry waited, watching it as it left. He couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like had he not discovered that Severus was his dad. Would he and Ron be playing Exploding Snap right now, laughing and carrying on like a couple of idiots? He then shook his head. Hermione was right. Ron would come around . . . he hoped.

"Are you ready?" his father softly asked, joining him in staring after the departing train.

Harry glanced up at him, noticing that his father was looking on in sheer boredom it seemed. He shrugged, not feeling like answering vocally. When his dad's hand rested on his shoulder a moment later, he felt a bit better.

"If you'd rather we remain at Hogwarts-"

"No. It's all right, Dad. Ron's just being a prat like usual." Harry inhaled slowly. "So, where are we going anyway? You still haven't told me that."

"That would be because it is a surprise," his father replied coolly, already turning on his heel to head back towards the castle.

"Well, am I going to like it?"

"Likely no, but it is something that we both need."

Harry sighed. His father was deliberately not answering him. They walked side by side up to the castle, hardly saying a word to each other after that. They didn't even speak when they entered Hogwarts, heading through the entrance hall towards a large banner off to the side. Harry's eyes narrowed, wondering what his dad was doing heading straight towards the banner.

"Dad, you're going to-" His mouth dropped when his father disappeared through the banner. "What in the world?" Harry muttered. He knew all about the talking portraits, the doors that appeared and disappeared, but walking through banners was a first. Taking a deep breath, Harry did the same, walking towards it. A moment later, he felt a cool breeze, forcing him to open his eyes that had shut due to the thought of impending contact. "Whoa, that's wicked." Harry glanced towards his father, who was now staring at him in front of a black spiraled staircase. "It's like how I reached Platform Nine and three quarters last year."

"Indeed it is," his father agreed, his arms crossed as he stared at Harry. "Most students are unable to use that particular passage, so I'd appreciate it if you did not tell your friends about it."

"I understand," the young Gryffindor replied. His eyes then narrowed as he recognized the staircase. "Wait. Isn't that the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower?"

"It is." His dad whirled around, walking up the stairs.

"Are we going to see M—Professor Sinistra?"

"Yes. I need to deliver a potion to her."

"To make her better?" asked Harry, biting his lip anxiously. He hadn't seen her all week, but his dad and Professor Dumbledore had reassured him that she was fine. He knew he could believe his dad. He was still trying to figure out if he could believe Professor Dumbledore. "Can I come up there with you?" He watched his dad stop on the fourth step, whirling around.

"No, Harry, you are to stay here, out of my sight, where you could possibly cause great bodily harm to yourself." He then shook his head. "Of course you are to follow me." His dad waited until Harry reached the first step before whirling around and resuming his walk up the stairs. Before they reached the top of the tower, however, his dad turned, walking underneath the observatory towards a picture of a scantily clad witch who immediately grinned as they approached.

"Um, Dad?" the young Gryffindor softly said, doing his best to avoid looking at the woman in the portrait. However, she was clearly drawing as much attention as possible to herself.

"Circe," his dad stated firmly.

"My dearest Severus," the guardian witch purred in her canvas. The stars twinkled majestically behind her as a thin crimson cloth wrapped around her breasts and lower body to shield her nakedness from them. She wore a shimmering silver necklace with matching bracelets and anklets. Her long straight black hair shone from the serene moonlight in the background. Smiling seductively, she walked barefoot across the jagged rocks in the gentle stream to greet them with her two snakes following her close. Once she was as near to them as the portrait allowed, she slowly raised her arms, making her bracelets jingle softly. Her dark eyes were full of amusement as the two boa constrictors slowly coiled themselves around her body. "I was beginning to think thou hast lost thy way here. She will be quite glad to see thee, however." Her eyes trailed down Harry, looking him over for a moment before she smiled mischievously. "And the boy of course, too," she added, her dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight from her canvas. "Tell me, child. Does my nakedness offend thee?"

"What?" Harry replied, glancing up only to glance back down when he caught a glimpse of more skin than he had previously seen. "Um, no," he answered, wincing a moment later. She could see right through that lie. He then sighed. The witch was beautiful. He would give her that. But he really didn't need to see all that.

"Thy father lies the same, child." Her laughter was soft, almost as seductive as she was. "Alas, my dearest Severus, we reach the point of thy payment to me. Thou shall give me blood today, yes?"

"No," he flatly stated.

"Pity, thy blood would bring me great joy." She laughed again before opening her portrait to them. "Until next time, my dearest Severus and the Great Harry Potter," she proclaimed, smiling.

The young Gryffindor glanced at her for a moment, making sure to stare just at her face. She hadn't said his name before. However, his dad gently grabbed his forearm, pulling him into the room. The portrait closed behind them a moment later.

"You may stare at her another time, Harry."

"She said my name, Dad."

"Yes, it is annoying trait of hers. Just be glad that she hasn't called you her 'dearest' yet." His dad grimaced, shaking his head. "Aurora!" He raised his voice just a bit.

"Upstairs, Severus," someone offered from a nearby portrait.

"Thank you, Salazar," replied Harry's dad, not glancing at him.

"I thought he guarded our rooms, Dad?" the young Gryffindor asked, staring at the Hogwarts' Founder who was looking at them.

"And that I do, Harry, but I also have a portrait here in the tower. Slytherins tend to hang me everywhere they can in fact."

"Oh," he softly said, frowning. He then glanced around, noticing that he was in the sitting area. Off to his right was a small entryway that led to a kitchenette, and to his left was an alcove with a, well, spiral staircase again. Her quarters appeared to be much smaller than his father's. At the sound of descending footsteps, he turned towards the staircase.

"You know, shouting at a woman is against the law in some countries."

Harry smiled softly, feeling familiar warmth inside his chest. However, his smile faltered when he saw her face. She had deep lacerations, one of which ran diagonally across her left eye. When she stopped in front of them, he noticed a slight shake in her hands, which made him bite his bottom lip. He watched his dad silently hand her a pale blue potion, frowning when she handed the bottle back empty.

"Your shaking hasn't subsided yet?"

"It comes and goes," she replied, smiling almost painfully. "Madam Pomfrey believes that with rest, though, I'll be back to normal in about a month." She then gently turned her head towards Harry. "So, where are you and Severus heading for the holidays?"

"I don't know," Harry quietly answered. Wasn't magic supposed to be all powerful and stuff? Shouldn't she have been healed instead of looking like she was mauled by a tiger?

"Believe me. I've looked worse, Harry," she admitted, giving a short laugh. "Your father and his friends in fact once turned my skin bright green for about two weeks."

Harry glanced at his dad, narrowing his eyes on the man.

"No, Harry, not Severus," she stated. She then closed her eyes, sighing. "I apologize. I meant James and his friends, not your father."

"Why would he do that to you?" Harry asked, staring at her.

"Well, it wasn't actually meant for me."

"Aurora," his dad quietly interrupted, shaking his head once a moment later. At the look Harry gave him, his dad sighed. "As I'm sure you've noticed, Harry, she has more Gryffindor tendencies than Slytherin. Thus, she stepped in front of me, being struck by it."

"Why'd he do that, though?" Harry asked, glancing at his dad.

"Why would you have dueled Mr. Malfoy?" his father merely replied.

"But, Severus—" Professor Sinistra interrupted.

"Aurora," his dad warned. "There is no need to dredge up the distant past."

"As you wish," she responded, inclining her head slightly. "I take it that you've already brewed the rest and given it to Madam Pomfrey?"

"I have. However, I am under the impression that you are returning to Windsor."

"I am." Her face held a grimace that looked as if she was in an extreme amount of pain, but it disappeared a moment later. She took a step towards him, resting a hand against his forearm. "Thank you, Severus." She smiled warmly towards him. "Maybe now you can get some rest tonight."

In a split second, Harry watched his father's mood drastically shift. The man's almost calm demeanor had rapidly shifted into anger for some reason. He then noticed how stiff his father looked. However, he had little time to ponder reasons why that would be since his father whirled around, briskly walking towards the now opening portrait. He wouldn't tell his father this or anyone, but it was almost as if his dad was fleeing from her. Had she done something wrong?

"Have a good summer, Harry." She appeared to be brushing off his dad's coldness expertly. "I'll see you next term."

"Thanks, M—Professor," he replied, grimacing at his near slip again.

"Come, Harry," his father hissed, clearly enraged by something the witch had done.

Not wanting to anger the man any more than he already was, Harry quickly turned around and briskly walked to catch up with his father, who was already near the base of the spiral stairs. What had she done wrong? He then frowned. Maybe his dad didn't like being touched. He shook his head. His dad never reacted that way with him. What was so different about her?

"Dad, slow down," Harry called after him, nearly running down the stairs to catch up to him. He heard soft mumbling in response from his father. He, however, couldn't understand what his dad was saying. "Dad, hold up." His father kept rushing out of the Astronomy Tower, seemingly trying to put as much distance between them and her. When he finally caught up with his father, he frowned, staring at the man. "What did she do wrong?"

"Nothing," his dad replied tersely.

"But you—"

"I merely wish for us to arrive at our destination before the sun started to set."

Harry decided to let the matter drop then. His father clearly wasn't going to tell him what she had done to upset him so much. So he quietly followed his dad towards the moving staircases. When they didn't turn to head down to the dungeons instead heading upwards, Harry's brows furrowed.

"Shouldn't we get our trunks, Dad?"

"We will not need them," his father answered. He then sighed a moment later, likely noticing how harsh he was sounding. "I have the necessary items already, Harry." His dad sounded tired now, almost completely worn out. His dark eyes darted towards him before he closed his eyes, shaking his head. "You asked before where we are headed." He said nothing when Harry nodded in response. "We both need to remove ourselves from this place leaving behind our troubles, and go somewhere in essence to refresh ourselves for the upcoming term."

"Okay," Harry quietly replied, slowly nodding not understanding.

"Tell me. Did your aunt and uncle ever take you and your cousin camping?"

"Like with a tent and that?" the young Gryffindor asked. He then shook his head. "No. We didn't do anything like that. Why? Is that what we're doing?"

"It is. I thought perhaps you'd enjoy a sightseeing tour of the countryside."

Harry softly smiled, staring at his father in disbelief. He wasn't against it by any means. Spending more time with his father, especially alone was, well, nice in his opinion. However, he'd never in a million years expect his dad to do something like that.

"Why?"

"As I stated before, we need to remove ourselves from everything." His father softly exhaled. "I've missed numerous events in your life. Perhaps this . . . break of ours will allow us to bond more closely with one another." He then frowned, exhaling again. "And, I admit, it perhaps might be easier if we were elsewhere to deal with . . . the nearly disastrous events in the chamber."

"You mean that it might be easier for me to open up more, don't you?" Harry quietly mentioned.

"We do have numerous issues we must deal with prior to the new term."

"Yeah," the eleven-year-old mumbled, kicking at the ground. "Are we doing this all summer?"

"Not all summer, no," he answered. "It will, however, be the majority of our vacation."

Harry nodded slowly, not knowing what else to do. A thought then crossed his mind, causing him to look at his father. He wasn't saying that they were . . .

"Dad, are we, well, roughing it?" He noticed his father stare at him for a moment before crossing his arms. "There was a boy in my class that talked to me. He was from across the pond and used the term once." He watched his father nod slowly.

"For the most part, yes, we are. I see no reason to spend an exorbitant amount of money on accommodations when we sleep in a tent."

"Yeah, but, well, are we driving to all these places?"

"No. We are wizards, remember?"

Harry smiled in response, nodding softly. Yeah, they were wizards, weren't they? Even after all this time, their being wizards still sounded so strange to him. When his father turned around to continue heading wherever they were going, the young Gryffindor resumed following close beside his dad. It took him a few moments before he realized their destination.

"I have something for the headmaster," his dad merely explained, stopping in front of a gargoyle statue that likely guarded Professor Dumbledore's office. "Skittles," his father announced, causing the gargoyle to slide to the side and allow them inside. Father and son were very quiet as the spiral staircase spun them upwards.

A moment later, after the staircase had fully extended itself, Harry watched his father tap the brass knocker against the sturdy oak door. Professor Dumbledore's voice quietly filtered through the crack under the door, permitting them to enter. Instead of glancing around, the young Gryffindor stayed very close to his father's side, knowing that this wouldn't take too long.

"Ah, Severus, I was beginning to think you had left already," Professor Dumbledore cheerfully stated, standing as he greeted them. His twinkling blue eyes glanced over his spectacles, smiling at Harry. "It was a shame about the House Cup this year. Gryffindor clearly deserved it. Do you not agree, Severus?" the elderly wizard asked.

"Gryffindor always has next year, Headmaster," Harry's dad quietly replied.

"That it does, that it does, Severus." Professor Dumbledore then held out his hand.

Harry glanced towards his father, watching the older man pull five pages of parchment out of his robes. His eyes narrowed as his dad then handed the pages over to Professor Dumbledore without a word. He then frowned, noticing the headmaster take a quick glance at it before nodding at Harry's dad.

"Thank you, Severus," Professor Dumbledore stated softly, placing the pages on top of his desk near the edge close to the rubbish bin. "I shall consider your request carefully."

Harry frowned. Something in Professor Dumbledore's voice sounded, well, off. It was almost as if this was some sort of tradition for them both. He then glanced at his father, watching him incline his head respectfully in response. What were those papers?

"Enjoy your break, gentlemen," Headmaster Dumbledore said with a soft smile.

When Harry's dad whirled around then to walk out of the office, the young Gryffindor followed instantly. A moment later, near the door, Harry heard something fall. He turned around, glancing at the headmaster.

"Yes, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked, staring at him.

"Did something fall, sir?"

"I don't believe so, but at my age, my hearing, I'm afraid, is not all there anymore, my boy." His eyes then glanced over Harry's left shoulder, likely towards Harry's dad.

"Come, Harry," his father gently said, resting a hand on his shoulder to steer him out. The door quietly closed behind them on its own.

"What were the papers that you handed him, Dad?"

"An inquiry about next year's staffing issue, nothing for you to worry about," his dad answered, heading down the staircase.

Harry nodded, deciding that answer was good enough for now. He remained silent as they headed down the moving staircases and later through the entrance hall towards the massive front doors. Chewing on his bottom lip, he wondered what sorts of places his father had picked out. To be honest, he didn't really know the man that well. And what he did know, well, he wasn't sure if that was his father's teaching persona or his real one. The man had a habit of keeping himself well guarded it seemed.

"Dad, could you at least tell me where we're going first?"

"Edinburgh," his father answered, walking through the now opened doors that lead outside.

"Edinburgh?" repeated Harry. "What's in Edinburgh?"

"Quite a number of things actually," his dad replied. "However, we are heading there to go to Princes Street." His father glanced at him. "I might be mistaken, but I believe that you are in need of a new wardrobe, correct?"

"We're going shopping?"

"Among other things, yes," his father responded, stopping for a moment. "If you wish to carry on wearing your cousin's rags, though, you may do so by all means."

Harry could hear the sarcasm laced in his dad's words. He did need new clothes, but he didn't want his father to think that he was a burden like the Dursleys did.

"However, I merely assumed that you'd wish to wear more suitable clothes, ones that don't make me look as if I'm a drunkard who doesn't care a lick about my son."

"So, we're going shopping just for me then?" Harry softly laughed when his words echoed back to him. "I mean, Dad, don't take this the wrong way, but you're going to stick out like a sore thumb around Muggles." When his father merely waved his hand a moment later, Harry's laughter ceased on the tip of his tongue.

"You didn't expect me to go gallivanting about the countryside wearing my robes, did you?" he replied, his lips quirking ever so slightly upwards. His dad's robes had been transformed for a plain black shirt that was over a white long sleeved shirt, and his black trousers were now blue jeans. He then whirled around, briskly walking across the grounds towards the front gates.

"You still haven't explained where you've kept the tent and everything," Harry said. He sighed a moment later when his father reached into his pocket, pulling a tiny object out. "You shrunk it?"

"I'm hardly in the mood to carry a tent and our other supplies any other way."

"All right then," Harry challenged, smiling softly. "Where's your wand, Dad?"

"Most definitely not in the back pocket of my trousers where your wand is," he replied, not glancing at the young Gryffindor.

"What's wrong with putting it there?"

"Your wand funnels your magic, Harry, in effort to control it. If you had an outburst of magic, you'd likely end up with sores on your arse, possibly even lose a chuck of it." He snorted when Harry quickly removed his wand from his back pocket. "That is rare, however," he admitted softly. "Most wizards just break their wands if they have it back there."

"All right, so where is yours?" Harry asked again. When his dad didn't respond, he looked the man over, trying to find an outline of a wand. He didn't see one anywhere. "Wait, it's in that tiny bag you have there?" he asked in disbelief.

"Most definitely not," his father answered. "I keep my wand near me at all times." He then inhaled slowly. "Since the purpose of this excursion is to bond, I'll inform you something about myself." He remained staring ahead, walking towards the gates. "I have long since believed that without my wand, I am powerless. While I always can rely on my wandless magic, it at times would slow me down, make me more vulnerable. A wizard's true wand is the key to success in any duel, Harry. So ensure that you never lose your wand, by theft or else."

"So, where do I put my wand? I mean, I don't want to lose a chunk of anything." Harry instantly stopped when his dad did.

"Put it in your shirt sleeve, wand hand shirt sleeve, Harry." As soon as the young Gryffindor did, his dad waved his hand towards the sleeve, making the end encircle snugly against Harry's wrist to ensure that the wand wouldn't fall out. "Now, move your hand back like this, slowly."

Harry did as his father asked, his eyes widening as his wand effortlessly slid into his hand. "Whoa. How did I do that?"

"You didn't," his father corrected. "Flick your hand back towards yourself now."

Harry's wand instantly slid back into his sleeve, the end closing once more. He glanced at his father, smiling. That was rather wicked if he said so himself.

"Once we arrive at Princes Street, we'll purchase a holster for you. I clearly cannot keep spelling your sleeve closed."

"So Princes Street is a bit like Diagon Alley then?"

"Hardly," his father answered, turning away to walk towards the gates again. "There, however, is one merchant who sells wares to wizards." He then closed his hand into a fist, opening it a moment later palm downwards.

Harry watched the gates creak open, permitting them to continue. The moment they were on the other side, his father turned towards him, removing the bag from his pocket again. The bag enlarged then, allowing his father to search through it. When the familiar mahogany handle peeked out of the bag a few seconds later, Harry's green eyes widened. That couldn't be . . .

"My broom!" the young Gryffindor cried, his mouth dropping as the rest of it appeared. He immediately grabbed it from his father's hand, holding it possessively. He had thought it was still in the dungeons with his trunk.

"I had thought it might be nice if we flew to our destinations," his father paused before adding, "at least part of the time." He then pulled out another broom. It had a few deep scratches in its wood, but for the most part it was well taken care of.

"You played Quidditch?"

"I would not be a reserve referee for it if I didn't, now would I?" he replied.

Harry's eyes trailed over the wood, chewing on his bottom lip. It was a Nimbus like his broom, but the exact model name was faded on the handle. From what he could tell, though, it didn't seem to have a number.

"Were you a Seeker like me, Dad?"

"No. I was a Chaser. Mind you, my Quidditch career was very short." He shrunk the bag once more, returning the tiny-sized bag to his pocket.

"Why?"

"I had an unfortunate incident with a Bludger," his father replied, grimacing slightly. "Are you ready, Harry?" he asked, staring at him for a moment.

"Yeah," Harry replied, mounting his broom. He kicked off then, smiling widely as he hovered. There was nothing in the world that could compare to flying. When he felt a tingle a couple seconds later, he glanced towards his dad.

"Disillusionment charm, to ensure that Muggles don't see wizards flying," his dad explained, hovering beside him.

"You know, Dad, someone could say that you're carrying a, well, a purse or something."

"And that 'someone' would be dead before he even thought of mentioning it," his father replied. "It is a bag, not a purse. Nowhere is a 'purse' synonymous with a 'bag." He then released a loud exhale, frowning. "Honestly, a purse, as if I'd be caught dead holding a purse," he muttered. "Or even putting one in my pocket," he added a moment later. With another forced breath, he shook his head. "You are to stay close to me, Harry. I am aware that you would like to fly in your usual way, but I will have no—"

"I know, Dad. I got it. No crazy stunts," the eleven-year-old interrupted. "I won't." He watched his father start to speed off towards Edinburgh then. He quickly caught up to him. Together, they flew, side by side, to the capital of Scotland, just a few hundred kilometers south of them.

~FTT~

It was the tenth store they had been to so far. They already bought Harry an entire new wardrobe of everyday clothes to wear under his robes, but they continued shopping anyway in the majority of Muggle department stores. Harry's father showed no signs of fatigue, and neither did Harry.

"What do you think? These ones?" he asked, holding up a pair of pure white trainers. "Or these ones?" he asked, holding up a black and white pair.

"The ones on your left," his father replied.

"Really?" said Harry, staring at the black and white trainers in his hand. "Why?"

"They'll be easier to keep clean, or at the very least they'll make it appear that way."

Harry shrugged. He could learn to like them. After all, with the amount of money his father was spending on him, he knew he had better. So, once more, they made their way to the checkouts.

"Find everything you need, gentlemen?" the Muggle woman asked as she rang up their items.

"We did, thank you," his father replied, holding out a fancy-looking credit card. He said nothing as she slid it down through the machine, merely typing a number in a moment later. "In addition, I would appreciate it if you delivered our remaining items to this address." He handed her a business card, just as he had done at the previous nine stores.

"All right, dear, I'll see to it personally," the cashier responded, smiling widely at him.

He then grabbed the boxed-up trainers from the countertop, handing it to Harry. He watched the cashier like a hawk as she placed the remaining items into a bag, putting it in a bin under the register a moment later. Turning, he and Harry then headed towards the doors, leaving that store.

"Could we go shopping for you now, Dad? I think I'm pretty well set." When his father simply pointed towards a grungy storefront, Harry turned and headed inside the little shop. He was greeted immediately by a big beefy man.

"We're closed today."

"Are you now?" Harry's dad silkily drawled, taking a step closer to Harry. "I was informed by Albus Dumbledore—"

"Dumbledore, oh good heavens," the beefy man said, withdrawing his wand and flicking it towards the door. The sign instantly flipped over to say 'closed,' and the shades quickly covered the storefront from curious pedestrians. Flames magically appeared in candles, lighting up the store. "Well then, gentlemen, how may I help you today?"

"My son needs a wand holster, preferably for his right forearm. I'd appreciate it if you made this quickly as possible. We do have other places to be," Harry's dad briskly stated. He watched the man take precise measurements of Harry's wrist and elbow before the man quickly walked into the back. He then turned towards Harry, gently combing his son's fringe so that it covered more of his scar. "Do not touch your hair as long as we are in here, understood?" he quietly spoke in a near whisper.

"Yes, sir," replied the eleven-year-old, just as soft.

The store owner returned with a black wand holder, smiling softly as he held it out. "It'll cost you about twenty Galleons."

"Very well," Harry's dad replied, producing the card again. Once it was purchased, he hand it to Harry. "Thank you." Harry said the same, turning to head out. He stopped at the door and turned back when his father's hand landed on his shoulder. "Sir?" his dad quietly said.

"Yes?"

"Obliviate," his father replied, his ebony wand in hand. He then urged Harry onward, silently walking out of the shop with his wand slipping back into his sleeve.

"Where are we going now, Dad?" quietly asked Harry, doing his best to ignore his stomach clenching painfully. He had thought about asking what that spell was, but assumed his father wouldn't inform him. His dad did seem to keep an awful lot of secrets.

"It was to make him forget seeing us," his father softly explained, likely noticing Harry's unsettlement. "There were a number of followers who escaped imprisonment, who now walk about freely. I apologize for unsettling you, though. It was merely to keep you safe, not meant to harm."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a bit better. His father hadn't cast that spell (whatever it was) out of malice or anything, just to keep him safe. How could he not find that heartwarming? He then smiled as his father motioned for him to walk across the street to the gardens.

"It's sort of pretty here, Dad." Harry looked around at the lush vegetation, all of the bloomed flowers, and the people lounging on the grounds. He then looked a further up the hill towards the towering black monument. "Dad?" he softly asked. "Is that a, well, um, a rocket ship?"

"It's the Scott Monument, erected in 1844 to memorialize Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish author," his father answered, joining him. "It is not by any means a 'rocket ship.' It's of Victorian Gothic design, something of which I doubt any of your previous so-called educators discussed."

"It's really old. What's not to understand?" Harry said, shrugging before he glanced towards the imposing castle atop of the hill. "Our castle looks better," he mumbled.

His dad snorted softly. "Come, Harry, or we will miss our train."

Harry sighed, not really wanting to move onto the next town. Edinburgh was fun in a sort of odd way. Maybe it was because they had only shopped and later ate at, strangely enough, Pizza Hut. It was Harry's idea, just to see if his dad would go for it. Imagine the shock when his father did. He hoped the rest of their journey was as fun as this part was. Together, they headed towards Waverly Station.