Thank you for your reviews, etc. To the commenter who reviewed about them getting up at dawn: when you're going somewhere inportant, sometimes you have to get up at 04:00 in the blessed A.M. I'm sorry you found it unrealistic. Also, I am not intimately familiar with the times of sunrise in the Highlands, however, I did not explicitly mention the actual time or date in relation to dawn.

Snape, true to his word, knocked on his guest's door just a bit before dawn, the seal on the ring he had put on just a few minutes before causing a clattering sound when his knuckles hit the cheap board. He stepped through, to find the boy standing in the middle of the room, his arms full of his personal items, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Severus silently handed the boy a waterproof backpack, half filled with supplies. The child messily shoved his things into the bag and slung it onto his back, stumbling slightly. Snape reached out a hand to steady Harry, then abruptly stepped back as if he had been burned. He turned, and strode out the door, his short black travelling coat swirling around him. "Time to go," he intoned.

They apparated to a windswept hillside. The land sloped and rolled out ahead, growing more imposing farther away. A small stone lychgate stood between them and the vast landscape before them, eerie in the twilight of summer nights in the Highlands.

"We cannot apparate directly to the sacred groves. They are unreachable if you do not pass through the gate, and continue on foot down the right path. Thus, why we brought supplies for multiple days," Snape explained. He seemed to be making an extra effort to be . . . Kind. The Snape-ish version of kind anyway.

He pulled a bag out of his pockets and returned it to it's normal size with a snap of his fingers. He then pulled child sized robes of a brown color, with gold trim, and a pair of worn leather boots. He handed them to Harry.

"These are robes that bear the colors of the Potter House. You can change behind the cairn over there. I will wait for you, but do not take forever. Muggle clothes are not suitable for our destination."

Shocked, Harry murmured his thanks.

. . .

Though they spoke little, the hours passed by quickly for Harry. The path grew smaller and more treacherous as they headed into the hills, and once Snape had to save him from falling. He still felt a bit lightheaded when he thought about it. Though dangerous and frightening, he could still appreciate the beauty of the place. The mist caressed the mountains before them, and the foliage occasionally rustled with small creatures, including a pretty fox Harry was sure was following them.

They stopped that night in the lee of a hill, the last bit of true day making it glow with an ethereal light. Snape pulled a bed roll out of his pack, and gestured for Harry to do the same. He left for a few moments to gather peat for a fire, dried it with a gesture, and set it alight in between their two sleeping mats.

Harry yawned, and rubbed his eyes. His belly growled loudly, but he could barely remain upright. He had never walked so far on foot before. The Dursleys had never taken him anywhere, and while he was used to hard work, he never got to leave the house, much.

Snape tossed him a canteen of water and some dried meat.

"I know you are tired, but if you do not eat more now, you will be weak in the morning." Snape murmured. "If you think I will carry you there, you are sorely mistaken. You must make the trip under your own power, or you cannot go at all."

The man stood and began to circle the camp.

Harry nibbled on the meat he'd been given, considering the statement, watching his professor as he set wards around them as night fell. His eyes widened when he realized the man was casting the magic with strange twitches from his fingers and movements of his hands, as if he we were physically weaving his spells. His wand was not in sight.

Dumbledore and Voldemort were famous for their unparalleled abilities, especially their wandless magic. Apparently, they had a rival.

Harry watched in fascination.

Snape whispered one last word and clenched his fists in a a ritualistic movement. He sat down, his dark hair hiding his eyes, the wind whipping it about his face.

Harry studied him thoughtfully as the older man dug around in his small pack, withdrawing some preserved meat.

"Sir. . . At school, they say you can read minds. Is that true?" Harry queried.

Snape stopped eating and looked up, his eyes narrowed, the firelight playing off his cheekbones. "Why? Do you have something to hide, boy?"

"I was just curious," Harry shrugged.

Snape studied him for a moment.

"Yes. I have some ability in the art of Legillimancy, which the uneducated call mind reading. . . Though. . . Legillimens, when affected by emotion have a more difficult time seeing the truth in their subject's mind. Clearing your thoughts and reaching a meditative state is essential for legillimancy and occlumency alike. However, such a state is not always achievable."

"Occlumens?"

"Those who can close their minds to legillimens." Snape responded.

"Do you know anyone who can do that sir?"

"Yes. Dumbledore. Voldemort. Myself. Among others. Most purebloods have at least rudimentary shields." Snape murmured.

"Could I learn, sir?"

"Possibly. Your mother was quite skilled."

"How would I start?" Harry queried, eagerly.

Snape huffed a laugh. "Start by clearing your mind. Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth. Feel your lungs expanding and collapsing. Focus on that. Think of nothing but breathing. To progress, you must first be able to calm your mind this way. It is the first, most essential step."

"What do I do next?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Next, you stop asking questions and go to sleep," Snape answered firmly, and flopped down on his bed roll with his back facing the boy.

Harry sighed.

...

The boy woke a few hours later. The fire had burned down to a few embers, and the night was chilly. He looked across it to his professor, hoping he was awake to fix it. The man was still asleep. His blanket was kicked down at his feet, and he was twisting around uncomfortably, his face scrunched in discomfort and bathed in sweat as he muttered incomprehensibly to himself.

"Sir?" Harry whispered, worried.

The man didn't respond.

"SIR!"

Snape jolted awake with a gasp, and in a split second had his wand in his hand, pointed between the boy's eyes, his chest heaving.

Harry yelped in surprise.

Snape blinked and shook his head as if to rid it of his fog, and lowered his wand.

"It. Is not wise. . . To wake me from a dead sleep, for a multitude of reasons." Snape ground out, a scowl on his face.

"I'm sorry sir, but the fire went out and I was cold, and you looked like you were having a nightmare," Harry mumbled.

Snape sighed and added more fuel and relit the fire, then got up and stumbled into the bushes beyond the ring of light. Harry could hear what sounded like someone vomiting, and after a few minutes the man came back a grimace on his face. He cast a freshening charm on his bedroll, and threw himself into it, groaning as he pulled his blanket over his head.

"Are you alright sir? Harry asked, worried.

"I'm FINE. Go to sleep, boy." Snape growled from under his blanket.

Harry frowned, but snuggled back under his covers and tried to go back to sleep