Harry soared through the air, relishing in the wind blowing against him, feelings of freedom and elation coursing through him as he preformed a few loops in the air. He pulled up and went higher, leisurely flying a few laps round the Quidditch Pitch, gradually increasing his speed until the wind was roaring in his ears, whipping his hair back in a black curtain of silk. A sudden dip at the tip of the broom turn it sharply downwards and Harry flattened himself against the back of the broom, making a streamline shape as it cuts through the air, closing his eyes even as the ground rushed up the meet him.

His relaxed demeanor did not change, and the slight tightening of his knees was the only indicator of his awareness of the rapidly decreasing distance from the ground before the broom was pulled horizontally with the ground. Harry remained still as the broom floated above the ground, enjoying the warmth of the sun and his hand absently twirling a strand of freshly-pluck grass.

"One of these days, you're going to break your neck."

Harry started at that unexpected comment and almost fell off his broom, but managed to right himself and sit up before he embarrassed himself. A smile spread across his face when he saw the figure standing by one of the Quidditch stands and he quickly dismounted to greet him.

"Severus! When did you get back? You didn't mention you were coming back today."

His uncle had allowed him to call him Severus, saying it was far safer than 'uncle' if Harry slipped up in public in future. The address 'uncle' established blood relations between them, while 'Severus' only meant familiarity, and the latter was easier to explain away than the former if overheard by others. Harry felt that it was disrespectful but gradually got used to it. He supposed if the one being disrespected doesn't mind, then he shouldn't either.

Harry was glad to see Severus as he was always away for long periods of time, teaching during school term at some wizarding school up north of Scotland or something. The abundant books and knowledge in the library and manor itself kept him occupied, and he could always turn to flying if he got bored, but he couldn't help feeling lonely sometimes, even with Sandy and the portraits around talking to him. It's been three years since he first came here, and he had grown quite attached to this place and his only living relative, despite his occasional snarky and cutting remarks.

Severus had started to tutor him in various subjects after he came back from the first school term. Somehow his uncle had found out about his attempt to self-study and read up on all the books in the library, and felt it would be safer if he had some guidance instead of just rushing headlong into the unknown. Well, maybe the little accident with the vase and feather had something to do with it. Harry really didn't mean to break the vase or create a fire. He thought it would be safe since it was only Wingardium Leviosa!

After that alarming incident, Harry spent most of the time doing theory, venturing into practical spell-casting only when a supervising adult was present, meaning Severus since he's the only adult around if he's around. That might be another reason why he was glad to see Severus, if he had not stumbled across Lady Amelia a few weeks ago on one of his exploratory hunts around the manor. After all, there was no condition that the supervising adult had to be alive.

---ooOoo---

There was a strange feeling in his chest at the obvious delight on the boy's face as he saw him, and it was rather comforting, the thought and realization that there was at least one person who was delighted to see him besides the house elves. He didn't expect that, unlike the constant feeling of welcome he got from the manor each time he came home. The boy's spirit and green eyes reminded him of Lily, but there was no longer any bitterness towards him for the memory he evoked. It would be a miserable life indeed if he still could not get over it. Harry was the only living remainder of Lily now, and Severus would cherish and protect him as best as he could, just like what Lily would have wanted him to do.

"It was a last minute decision." Severus started walking back to the manor by one of the side staircases and Harry fell into step beside him.

"I thought you would be busy at school until the holidays."

Severus made a non-committal sound then asked, "How's your work coming along?"

Harry brightened and said, "It's great! Those books you've recommended are really helpful and so interesting. I didn't know there were so many guidelines about the preparation, mixing, stirring and addition of ingredients with regards to their properties and how much to add is crucial, like too much fire-based with water-based ingredients would detract from the effectiveness of the resulting potion because the interaction is not complete and does not provide an optimum-"

"Please remember to breathe," Severus said, amused at the boy's determination to rattle off everything he'd learnt as if he himself, being a Potions Master, would not know what was exactly in the book that he had given the boy.

Harry snapped out of his train of speech and, as if realizing what his uncle was saying, flushed red and immediately stopped, giving a sheepish 'Oops?' as an apology.

He mentally shook his head at the boy; some things never change. "I supposed you're getting along with Lady Amelia?" he inquired casually.

"Well enough, though she-" Harry suddenly stopped and stared at him. "How do you-"

"I have my ways." Indeed, the magical link that exists between manor and master is very useful sometimes. "I know you've been keeping up with your lessons and Lady Amelia has been helping you with it, but practical spell-casting is still- difficult. There is something that can help."

He had led them to one of the rooms in the lower level, one that had not been used for quite sometime, as apparent by the dusky smell and thin layer of undisturbed dust. Severus muttered a cleaning and lighting charm in quick succession and indicated for Harry to step in. The room was rather plain, no portraits adorned the walls, nor did ornaments litter the sides. The floor was different, made up of a sort of black spongy material that was softer than the normal stone flooring of rooms in the lower level, but not so soft that it would visibly sink when pressure was applied. A life-sized figure stood in the middle, rather like half-made doll with no face, hair and discernable sex. Harry supposed 'mannequin' covered it nicely.

"If you have quite finished staring," Severus said impatiently, and Harry turned his attention to him. "You may practise any spells, charms, jinxes, hexes or curses on this simulated model. The spells will take effect as if they were cast on a real person. There are a few levels to this mechanism: one, it stands still throughout; two, it can move around and duck your spells; three, it can duel you. The levels have sub-levels, with the option of its ability to counter or end the spells, whether it exhibits human reactions to the spells, and limiting the level and type of spells it uses in retaliation."

"Wow."

Yes, well, wow, Severus thought dryly. It was one of the more ingenious inventions of his ancestor, an Octavian Slvius Snape who wanted to perfect his dueling skills and invented a model dueler that could push his limits. Over the years, easier levels were added to allow his children to use it for practise dueling and practical spell-casting. Severus himself had started out with this simulated model and he found that, at its higher levels, it was not that different from dueling a real person, except that it does not sustain permanent damages, simply reconstructing itself after the duel or practice session was concluded. The model could even take on the appearance of a real person if a bodily sample of the person could be obtained, like a strand of hair, fingernail, blood etc.

Severus could see the boy was excited at the prospect of practicing the spells and curses which he had only read in books so far, because theory, while easy to understand, was quite useless on its own as one has to be able to put the knowledge into use. Harry could not keep using Lily's wand either; he'll have to bring him to Diagon Alley soon.

"For specific instructions and incantations to make use of the model, read this. I'll be staying for a few days so you can clear your doubts with me." Severus produced a small book from his robe pocket and handed it to Harry. "We be going to get your wand tomorrow. Be ready at 8 am sharp."

"Yes, sir," Harry said cheekily, grinning at him.

"Brat," Severus muttered, but it was without the usual sting and glare that he directed at those imbeciles he had the misfortune of teaching, if you could call it such, at Hogwarts.

--ooOoo--

They were standing in front of the main fireplace in the parlour, and Severus was giving last minute instructions, "Keep your hood up at all times and do not, I repeat, do not leave my side and wander off by yourself or with strangers. Should you get lost or get into trouble, here," he handed Harry a Chocolate Frog, who looked at it curiously, "is a Portkey. Just hold it and say transportus, and it'll transport you back to the manor. However try to make sure no one else undesirable is holding onto you when the Portkey activates. I trust I need not stress that this particular chocolate frog is not for eating?" Severus glared at Harry when he laughed at the comment.

"Think it's funny, do you? It happened to some first-year dunderhead I had to pick up last year. Needless to say, the magic infused in the Portkey reacted unfavourably in his system and he had to be rushed to St Mungo's for treatment before he permanently became a human Portkey," he said, disgusted.

Severus threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace and stepped in, saying clearly, "Diagon Alley," and disappeared in a whirl of green flames. Harry stared uncertainly at the now orange flames, and then at the green powder in his hand. He had read about traveling by Floo but had never attempted it before. What if he ended up somewhere strange?

Severus must be getting impatient. Harry threw the powder into the fireplace and the flames turned green like before. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the fireplace and said loudly, "Diagon Alley!" tucking in his elbows and closing his eyes as a dizzying rush propelled him forward, executing an occasional sharp turn- splat! - and he tumbled ungracefully out of the fireplace, landing on his bottom in front of a pair of black boots. Harry quickly got up and dusted himself, trying to hide his embarrassment at the clumsy landing and cursing Floo travel. No, flying was infinitely more pleasant.

Severus didn't say anything but Harry still scowled at him, as though he knew his uncle was smirking at him under his hood. Harry looked around Diagon Alley, his curiosity aroused as it was his first time here, and didn't think it very different from the streets of Minturi where the nearest shops from the orphanage were located. But the shops and their wares were of great interest to him and he longed to explore, but a tug at his cloak warned him of wandering off. The day was still early and not many people were here; those that walked the streets didn't even give them more than a cursory glance. Harry sighed, and followed Severus down the street, stopping at a narrow and shabby little shop, with a sign 'Ollivander's -Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

There was a tinkling bell sound as they stepped into the shop and Harry didn't think he'd seen so many narrow boxes lined side by side each other, stacked from floor to ceiling. He wondered how one could find one's chosen wand among the many thousands in here without making a right mess but his musings were cut short by the appearance of an old man with eerie, moon-like eyes.

"Severus Snape," he said thoughtfully, "willow, 13 inches, pleasantly springy, nice wand for dueling. I trust it serves you well?"

"Yes," Severus said evenly. "I'm here to get a wand for him."

Mr Ollivander moved forward. "Ah, Harry Potter. I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. Very well, on with business. Which is your wand arm?"

"Right?" Harry was disconcerted by the strange old man and those eyes that seemed to see right through him. Magical measuring tapes were already sliding along his arm and body and he suddenly found himself holding a wand Mr Ollivander thrust at him. Gingerly, he waved the wand, only to have it snatched out of his hand and replaced with another. The second one obviously didn't work either and a third was given to him.

Harry wasn't sure what it was that Mr Ollivander looked for before knowing the wand was suitable or not, but he was getting tired of waving each and every wand. Occasionally the monotonous routine was broken by an explosion or shattering of glass which only caused Mr Ollivander to be more excited at having this 'tricky customer but we'll find you a wand soon!' Honestly, he doesn't seem to be quite in his right mind.

"Try this one," Mr Ollivander said, for what seemed to be the thousandth time, but there was something different in his tone, a slight expectancy as Harry brought his arm down in a swish. A warmth rushed through him and the wand, emitting silver and blue sparks like a firework, and he could hear a melodious song that touched his core and spread a sense of peace through him.

"You've found your wand," Ollivander said with an odd smile. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

He put Harry's wand back into the box and wrapped it in brown paper, muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Excuse me, but what is so curious?" Harry asked.

Mr Ollivander stared at him unnervingly and said, "The phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather- just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. I think we must expect great- "

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander," Severus interrupted smoothly, "We need to go."

"Yes, indeed," he looked at Severus piercingly, "Indeed. That would be seven Galleons. Thank you."

Severus paid and exchanged some words with the man, but Harry could not hear what was said. He didn't think he liked the old man; he was too creepy by far.  They left, watched by a pair of wide, pale eyes.

Yes, I will keep the secret for you until he turns eleven.

Good luck, Harry Potter.

---ooOoo---

Thanks to all reviewers. I really appreciate the comments and encouragements; they keep me going. Hope you like the new chapter, and sorry it took so long. I seem to be forever apologizing for the period of waiting, but I guess it really was my fault for posting a WIP. Thanks for reading, and for your patience.