Harry stared at the glen in front of them. It had likely taken centuries for the river to carve its way through the solid grey rock. Each day it must have smoothed away just a little more, sanding down the rough spots and slowly cutting deeper and deeper into the earth. He could imagine it happening as the days turned to months, months to years, and years to centuries how the moss slowly overtook the smoothed away surfaces, and the rocky cracks filled with soil. Over time, the weathered surface flourished with plant life. However, the river continued to move onward, washing away more rock bit by bit. Before long, luscious trees sprang up from the rocks on either side of the river and now, fully grown, leaned yearningly towards each other.

"It's beautiful here, Dad," Harry softly said, his green eyes soaking in everything.

"It certainly is, isn't it?"

A moment later, Harry smiled as he gingerly made his way towards the water. He could feel his dad watching his every move. With one hand on the mossy rock to counter his balance, he leaned forward to touch the crystal clear water. Grinning now, he cupped his hand before he tossed the water towards his father. Within mere seconds afterward, he burst out laughing as his father roared out in surprise when he got a face full of cold water.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" his dad said with a hint of a teasing growl. A jet of water then flew up, dousing Harry completely. His dad chuckled at the mild glare Harry shot his way.

"We're not supposed to do that outside of school, Dad."

"Correction, you're not supposed to do that outside of school, Harry. I can do it any time I wish." His dad then glanced around the glen, sighing contently. "We should perhaps be on our way, Harry. I'd like to get to head to our next destination before nightfall."

Harry nodded slowly, turning to head from the river banks. However, he stopped when he heard soft crying from the other side. He glanced towards his dad, noticing that the older man seemed to have heard it also.

"Dad, what is it?"

His father, however, waved off his question, drawing his wand. His dad's black eyes darted back and forth in the tree line before he frowned. Clearly, he had found the thing making the noise. Without a word, he slowly wadded through the water towards the other side.

Harry followed him of course, not able to resist his curiosity for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he watched his father kneel down in front of a tree. However, a moment later, he could see what his father was gently picking up. There, in the palm of his father's hand, was a fairy. Harry could clearly see that one of her wings was badly damaged as if something had grabbed a hold of her wing and shook her by it. He watched his dad run his ebony wand over her as he mended the broken wing.

"Is she going to be all right?"

"Likely," his dad replied, frowning at the small creature that was whimpering in his hand. "There, try to fly now." The fairy, however, only retreated further into his palm. "I merely wish to see if your wing is repaired. I mean you no harm."

"Tis what all say," she responded in a squeaky voice.

"I am not 'all.' Now, do as I say." His voice was firm, commanding the little fairy to obey, which she did. He nodded slightly when her wings fluttered for a moment and she hovered. "Do you feel any pain? Tell me even if it is just the slightest amount."

"No." Her little blue curls bounced off her pale dress as she shook her head. "Tis fine," she said.

"Excellent. Well, go on then." He grimaced when the little fairy flew up and kissed his cheek. "Yes, yes, now go." His dad sighed, closing his eyes when she zoomed off into the forest.

"I think she liked you, Dad," Harry joked, only to laugh when his dad shot a mild glare his way.

"Let's go."

"I can't wait until Mione and Ron hear all about Severus Snape, the fairy savior."

"Harry," his father warned.

"I can see it now." Harry waved his hands emphatically in front of him. However, when his dad cuffed him upside the back of the head again, he found himself glancing down with a soft smile. He thought it was rather funny.

~FTT~

They arrived at the base of Pistyll Rhaeadr, one of the largest waterfalls in England, several hours later near dusk. Harry was still laughing about his dad saving the little fairy, which he knew was upsetting his father. He did try to stop laughing, but it was just too funny to him. Who would have thought that Severus Snape of all people would help an injured fairy? That was like seeing, well, some dark wizard cuddling a puppy.

As his father spoke with the campsite owner a few feet away, Harry decided to help set up their tent since he thought he saw lightning off in the distance. It was already rather windy, so who only knew how bad it'd be setting the tent up once it started pouring. He was quite glad that his father had already removed the tent from the bag and spelled it to its right size prior to their arrival. It would have looked odd otherwise. So, setting out with his job, he started to pitch the tent just as his father had showed him.

Harry was rather surprised at how easily it was to do. Though, he guessed that was likely due to the increase use of his muscles. After he finished placing the stakes into the ground, he threaded the pole into the little slot before lifting up the canopy.

"No, no, no, don't do that, stop," the twelve-year-old muttered to himself as the pole started to pitch backwards suddenly. His hands were slipping, but he continued holding it as best as he could.

"What on Earth are you doing?" His father quickly grabbed it, frowning as he magically pitched the tent a moment later.

"I was trying to help."

"Yes, so I see," his dad replied quietly. "While I appreciate your attempt, I would appreciate it more if you had waited for me. I do not wish any harm to come to you, Harry. Do you understand this?"

"Yeah," Harry softly said, glancing down at the ground. When he felt his dad's hand rest on his shoulder a moment later, he glanced up at him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just wanted to help."

"You get that particular trait from your mother," his father responded, motioning with his head that they were to go inside the newly constructed tent. The flaps on either side then fell down, blocking view of the inside from any passerby.

Harry gently placed his dad's bag down in the middle, waiting as his dad searched through it for their sleeping bags. He took his crimson bag a moment later, laying it down and sitting on top of it. He watched his dad do the same.

"I thought it was against the law or something to use magic around Muggles."

"It is. However, this particular campground is reserved specifically for magical people."

"Oh." He glanced down immediately, frowning again.

"Harry, it's all right. I understand. The Dursleys—"

"But you don't, though, Dad. I've only told you a bit of it." Harry chewed on his lower lip before he glanced up. "I was expected to do everything. I assembled, buried, cleaned, cooked, gardened, mowed, and everything else they could think of making me do." He glanced down again, feeling unsettled with his dad's eyes on him. "If they thought I hadn't done a good job or just felt like it, they punished me." He wet his lips, frowning. "Most times, it'd just be a day or two without food. Other times, Uncle Vernon would smack me around. And every now and then, it was worse."

"Worse how?" his father asked softly.

Harry shrugged. He felt . . . odd telling the man the truth, baring his soul so to speak, but it was needed. He didn't know why, but it felt like it was time to get it all out there.

"Please, Harry." His dad gently reached across, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Please tell me what you mean that sometimes it'd be worse."

"He took his belt to me once because I had an accident in front of his boss. I made the piano start playing by itself." Harry could still remember the thwacks as the belt came down across his back. "And another time, I walked in on him and some woman." He swallowed back the bile in the back of his throat as that particular memory flashed before his eyes.

"Did he touch you?" his dad growled, his eyes darkening and his face whitening in pure fury.

Harry instantly shook his head no. Physical contact was one of the things the Dursleys avoided at all cost. Well, unless they were punishing him by smacking him for burning the toast or something.

"Good," stated his dad, nodding slowly before relaxing slightly.

"What would you have done if he did?" Harry asked quietly.

"I would have dealt with him swiftly," his dad answered darkly.

"But then you'd like go away, Dad." He watched his father's eyes widen ever so slightly before the man nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, likely I would have." His dad then looked him straight in the eye. "But you're my son, Harry. Any father would feel the same desire to exact revenge on the ones responsible for hurting you as I would. It is a natural instinct in any parent. An instinct, in fact, that is tough to go against." His dad drew in a slow, long breath. "Harry, I want you to have a better childhood than I ever did. I want you to experience the happiness, the joy of being with your friends, flying, laughing, loving, everything that comes with growing up." Gently, he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will never harm you. And I mean every word of it, Harry. I will not be like the Dursleys." His dad inhaled again. "Do you know why?" He paused for a moment before he continued. "You are my son, my heir, my child with Lily . . . my second chance. These sorts of events don't happen often to me, Harry. So I will do everything in my power to make sure that I don't mess this up."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling the hidden emotion underneath each word. He could feel his father's love surround and encase him. Therefore, he couldn't help it when he moved forward and wrapped his arms around his dad's neck as he embraced his father.

"Love you, Dad," he whispered quietly. He smiled softly at the awkward pats on the back from his dad a second later. The man clearly hadn't been hugged enough in his life, but then again neither had Harry. He then pulled back and sighed. His father hadn't said the words, but Harry knew his dad loved him. "So . . . um, we're hiking up beside the falls tomorrow?"

"If you'd like," his father replied.

"Actually, I'd rather go onto the next spot if that's okay. It's beautiful and all, but I'll just get a postcard or something to enjoy it. I mean, knowing my luck, I'd probably hurt myself or something." He watched his dad nod slowly. "Night, Dad." He then settled into his sleeping bag for the night to rest.

"Good night, son."

~FTT~

Harry glanced at his dad as they touched down on the outskirts near Birmingham. His father had stated that they were headed to Bodmin Moor, a place Harry was most ecstatic to visit. He had read all about the famous Quidditch match that had occurred in the moor where a Snitch had been lost. It was one of the longest matches ever, finally called off by the officials after six months of finding nothing.

"Dad, is something wrong?" The sun was high in the cloudless sky, and the breeze was light.

"No. However, our trip to Bodmin will take several days."

"Oh," Harry replied, nodding slowly. He guessed they could use a break from flying. He watched his father shrink their brooms and place them gently into the black bag again before they walked into the city. "I've never been to Birmingham before, but I remember Uncle Vernon saying that it's as dirty as Manchester is."

"Your Uncle Vernon is an idiot, Harry."

"Well, yeah," Harry said, laughing as he felt in good spirits. "That's sort of a given, Dad. He said that about Liverpool, too, come to think about it."

"I take it back. He's not an idiot. He's a complete and utter moron." His dad then muttered under his breath, "As if he didn't enjoy the Beatles."

"The who?"

"No, they were from London," his dad replied offhandedly.

Harry's eyes narrowed on his dad. What? He then shook his head. Maybe they misunderstood each other or something.

"No, Dad. I meant who are the Beatles?" He flinched when his dad's head snapped towards him.

"Tuney never played their albums for you?"

"Not that I know of," Harry said, shrugging. The way his dad was carrying on one would think these Beatles were gods or something.

"I see," his dad quietly replied, frowning. "The Beatles was a British Muggle rock group back in the 60s. Tuney and your mother practically grew up listening to them. Your grandparents were quite the fans back in the day. They used to drive my father up the wall with it playing. Your mother's favorite song, if I remember correctly, was 'Yesterday.' Then again, I did enjoy it also."

"You liked the Beatles?"

"As I said, Harry, your mother practically was raised on it." His dad's brows then furrowed as his finger traced his lip. "I believe I still have an album or two, if you'd like to listen to their songs."

"Album?" he repeated. "You mean like records?"

"Yes, Harry, I mean records. They were the latest Muggle recording technology at the time. Well, actually, now that I think of it, I believe the latest were forty-nines." His dad then shook his head when he noticed Harry's look. "Don't even try to say that I'm old. I'm thirty-two." Once again, he shook his head. "Hell, Harry, your Head of House still listens to a gramophone for Merlin's sake."

"Okay, Dad, whatever you say," Harry said, laughing softly. His green eyes then noticed loads of bright shiny storefronts on either side of them. He glanced from left to right into each shop, smiling.

"I'd imagine you'd like to pick something out for Miss Granger while we're here, yes?"

"Yeah, I mean, wait, would that be odd to do?" Harry glanced up at his father. "I mean, she wouldn't take it the wrong way, would she?"

"I believe Miss Granger is intelligent enough to understand your meaning of it being a token of your friendship rather than affection." His dad then motioned with his head to a store on Harry's right. They walked in a moment later.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you today?" asked the young shopkeeper from behind the counter. He reminded Harry a bit of Ollivander.

"Um, well, do you have necklaces?" Harry then glanced up at his dad. "Girls like that stuff, right, Dad?" He felt awkward asking that question, but he hadn't had any girl friends before. Then again, he hadn't really had any guy friends either.

"Ah, a cupid has struck you, yes? I know just the item for this lucky girl," announced the shopkeeper, chuckling softly before he turned and headed into the back.

Harry winced. He didn't like Hermione like that. At least he didn't think he did. When the owner returned a moment later with a sparkling necklace with a ruby heart, Harry's eyes widened. It looked like something Uncle Vernon would buy for one of his little tramps as Aunt Petunia would put it.

"No, no, sir, I-I-I don't, well, I don't like her like that." Harry grabbed at his shirt collar and tugged on it. Was it getting hot in here? Or was that just him?

"I believe my son would rather see your collection of charm bracelets instead, sir," his dad quietly said with a forced polite smile.

"Ah, yes, she perhaps is a bit young for this, judging by the youth in him." The old man then turned and headed into back before reappearing a moment later, holding a black velvet display with numerous charm bracelets attached. "Might one of these speak to your lady friend?"

Harry's eyes moved over every single bracelet. Nothing spoke to him, but he kept looking. He then stopped when he saw a bracelet with ten owl charms. He smiled softly. Hermione would love that. He just knew it.

"That one, the one with the owls," he said, grinning as he pointed at it.

"So, your lady friend is wise in your opinion? Hmm, interesting," the shopkeeper replied before gently removing the silver charm bracelet from the velvet. He silently held it out to Harry to look at. "If you'd like, I could perhaps engrave a message into it for her?"

"No, that's all right, sir. She'll love it just the way it is." He couldn't wait to give it to her. Harry's smile grew even more as he watched his father swipe his card to pay for the bracelet while the shopkeeper gently placed it in a red medium sized jewelry box. It looked so beautiful in it. He nodded his thanks after grabbing the now closed box from the owner. She was going to love it. He knew it. He then headed out with his dad into the street again.

"Do you wish to shop for anyone else while we are here?"

"Um, well, I sort of want to get something for Mrs. Weasley. You know," he started to say before pausing, "just to say thanks or something. I mean, I'll pay—"

"Absolutely not," his dad said sharply, frowning. "If it is guilt you feel for my paying whatever you wish to procure for your friends, Harry, cease in that thought at once. I do not consider any of this generosity of yours to be a burden. It is quite the opposite in fact. It displays yet another trait of your mother's exhibiting itself." He then inhaled slowly, morphing his features back into their usual neutral. "Now, what are you thinking about purchasing for Molly?"

"Something simple, I guess," Harry replied, shrugging. He wasn't quite convinced that his dad didn't see him as a burden for buying everything in sight, but he wasn't going to argue with him.

"Hmm, yes," his dad said, pursing his lips slightly. "Perhaps something to do with her family would be best."

"Like maybe one of those bracelets that shows the birthstones of everyone in her family? Aunt Marge bought one for Aunt Petunia last year. She liked it, even though it only had Dudley on it." He then frowned, shaking his head. "Well, she probably loved it because it didn't have me."

"All the more reason to say that Petunia Dursley is a bitch," his dad grumbled. His dad then inhaled slowly. "I believe that Molly, however, will enjoy such a gift." With a motion of his head, they walked towards another jewelry store. His dad, however, grabbed his shoulder gently, handing him the card before walking in.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, glancing up as he held the silver card in his hand. His gut then clenched. "Dad, aren't you coming with me?"

"No," his dad replied with a mere whisper, glancing towards a nearby window as if to look at something behind them in the reflection. "I have something that I must attend to. Remain in the store until I return."

"Dad!" cried the young boy. What was going on?

"Do as I say, Harry," his father replied gruffly. He waited until Harry had walked into the shop before whirling around and heading further down the street.

Harry watched from inside as two men quickly rushed past the window. He grabbed the door handle to head out, only to stop a moment later when a hand heavily landed on his shoulder. He didn't care if it was against the rules. He was not going to let anything keep him from his father. Rotating his wrist, he drew his wand from the holster and whirled around.

"Put that away, boy. I'm not going to hurt you," a gruff man said, frowning. "Bout time your dad decided to do something about them. They've only been following you since you came into town."

"You're a . . . a wizard?" Harry asked quietly, glancing around the empty shop nervously.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," drawled the man. "It's nice to know that old Moldy didn't mess you up in the head when he gave you that scar."

Harry's eyes narrowed on the man. He knew that his long raven hair covered his scar. Hell, he had to keep brushing it out of his eyes. So, how in the world did this man know who he was?

"It's not your scar, boy. It's the eyes. Now, stop drawing so much attention to yourself."

"You knew my mum?"

"No," he replied flatly. "But I knew your grandmum. She had those same green eyes."

"You knew my grandmum? What was she like? I mean, how did you know her?" So many questions flooded through Harry's mind. He could barely get his questions out.

The man, however, looked at him before scoffing and shaking his head. He then pointed towards a display case towards the back.

"Go do what you came in here for before your dad returns."

"But—"

"Is there something wrong with your ears, Potter? Go!"

Harry sighed before he headed towards the case. This man, whoever he was, was extremely moody. He was just asking a question. Did he need to get his head bit off for it?

"Quit moping, Potter." The man then grumbled something under his breath. "I would have thought that he'd have raised you better."

"Well, sorry," Harry yelled back, turning around glaring at the man. "He's only been my dad for the past two, well, three months."

"Yell at me like that again, Potter, and you'll lose your tongue. Got it?" the man growled. His blue eyes then narrowed on him before he frowned. "What do you mean he's only been your dad for three months?"

"My mum was a . . . witch and waited until my first day at Hogwarts before telling him."

"What does her being a witch have to do with her waiting to tell Severus?"

"What?" Harry then shook his head, sighing. "No. She's a, well, a bitch." His eyes then widened when the man rushed towards him, grabbing his shirt collar and lifting him up off the floor.

"Listen here, you little bastard," growled the man, sending spittle onto Harry. "She's your mum. She deserves respect, not to be called such a name by you, who knows nothing about her."

"Let go!" Harry yelled, struggling against the man's grip.

"Not until you apologize for using such foul language about your mother."

"Fine, I'm sorry!" Merlin, this man was a completely mental. He didn't even really think that about her anymore. Well, he didn't think it that much anymore at least. He exhaled when the man released him gently onto the floor. "What do you care anyway?"

"I care because he clearly loved her if he decided to keep you around." The man's eyes then darted towards the back door before he looked back at Harry. "Well, Potter, are you just going to stand around? Buy something."

Harry glared, but slowly walked towards the bracelets. He was so telling his dad about this psychopath. There in the back of a case, however, something silver caught his eye. He leaned over it, pressing his face almost against the glass.

"You smudge that glass, Potter, you're cleaning it."

"I can't do magic outside of Hogwarts, though."

"With a toothbrush and water," the man replied, crossing his arms.

"Oh." Harry glanced down, frowning. "Do you know how much the ring costs?"

"What do you want it for?"

"It's pretty." Honestly, why did this man care?

"Then it's not for sale."

"What if I said that I want to give it to Dad's girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend . . . ? Severus has a girlfriend?" The man then snorted. "He's a bit old to have a girlfriend, don't you think, Potter?"

"So? He loves her." Harry felt slightly guilty for lying, but that ring was too gorgeous to pass up. So what if it wasn't from his dad. It was semantics after all.

"What's she like? This girlfriend of Severus's?" asked the man, narrowing his eyes on Harry.

"Um, well, she has dark brown hair with tons of curls, sort of ashen, um, nice. You know, pretty much like the perfect woman. At least that's what Dad says." Oh, Merlin, he was so going to die for that comment. Why had he said that?

"I see." The man then glanced towards the ring before walking behind the case and sliding the door over. He pulled the silver ring out, handing out to Harry. "Free of charge. Need anything else?"

"Um, well, do you have any bracelets with like people's kids birthstones in it?"

"Mother bracelets, you mean?" the man asked, staring at Harry suspiciously. When Harry nodded, the man raised a hand, summoning a silver bracelet from a nearby case. "What stones?"

"Um . . . well, I don't actually know." Harry sighed. He thought his dad would.

"Fine," the man said with a sigh. "Just tell me how many children she has."

"Seven," Harry answered instantly.

"Seven! Sweet Merlin!" the man exclaimed. "And Severus is dating her with that many kids?"

"No! No! That's my best mate's mum. She has seven kids, including my friend. Dad's girlfriend doesn't have any children." Harry then added, "At least none that we know about."

"I see. Well, thank Merlin for that." He frowned as he withdrew a light brown wand, tapping it against the silver bracelet once. Seven stones appeared a moment later set in the band. "Severus should be able to alter the stones easy enough later."

"Thank you, sir." Harry then walked towards the door, only to wince when the man grabbed his arm. "Hey!" What now?

"I believe you need to pay for that, Potter."

"But—"

"I didn't say that was free of charge. Now, give me the card."

"No."

"Accio Gringotts' card!" the man said, easily summoning it a moment later. He released Harry, heading towards the counter before he rung it up and charged it to the card. He then tossed the card back at Harry with a scowl. "There. Now, you're not a thief, Potter."

"Why, thank you, sir," he snottily replied. This man was as crazy as Trelawney was.

"Watch yourself, Potter," the man growled. He then glanced towards the window, scoffing. "Sorry about this, Harry, but it needs to be done."

"What needs to be done?" Before it even registered in his mind, a jet of light slammed hard into Harry's chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The young boy groaned, attempting to lift his head. He couldn't, however. It seemed like forever before the door opened, a bell ringing out to signal it.

"Harry!" Boots clopping against the wooden floor headed towards him before his father gently kneeled beside him, picking him up. "Finite," his dad whispered, staring at him. "What the hell happened to you? Who did this?"

"Some . . . some psycho, Dad," Harry groaned, feeling extremely groggy. He glanced towards the counter then, shaking his head. "He was back there."

"Breathe in deeply for a few moments. I'll return shortly."

Harry watched his dad stand, ebony wand in hand with a determined look on his face. He headed towards the counter, only to stop and glance back at Harry.

"What is it?"

"We need to get out of here . . . now." His dad strode back, gently lifting Harry up to his feet. Together, they headed towards the back exit, not caring as the alarm sounded instantly.

Harry felt the Disillusionment charm a moment later and watched as his dad pulled out their brooms. Without a word, they took off, flying far from Birmingham. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what. He glanced towards his dad who was flying beside him. The man seemed in thought about something, but he didn't look at all in the mood to share. Could it be that the bad wizard had returned? Harry didn't know. For now, he'd just wait. It was all he could do.