Hedwig had been gone for five days, and Harry was beginning to get seriously worried. In the nine months since Hagrid had given Harry his best birthday present yet, she had never stayed away this long before. Yes, sometimes she was gone for a day or a night, but she always came back, always made sure to find her wizard and nip his ear in a reassuring sort of way before she flew up to the owlery. She knew that he worried.

This time, though, she had not returned. Harry had looked everywhere, searched the entire owlery for a snowy-white bird among all the gray and brown specimens. They had blinked reproachfully at him as he stood there, calling for her and disturbing their rest after a long night of hunting and delivering letters for their wizards. But Hedwig had not appeared.

Accompanied by Ron and Hermione, he had even gone up to the Astronomy Tower after lunch the next day, and called for her until Professor Sinistra chased them back downstairs. No Hedwig. Harry felt a hard lump sitting in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought of her. And he couldn’t stop the images that came to his mind. She could have broken a wing. She might be lying somewhere, waiting for him to come and rescue her. She could have been attacked by some animal, or caught by a wizard. Of course she’d come back to him once the wizard sent her out to deliver letters, but what if she was locked up in a cage somewhere, unable to escape? Hermione had told him about an uncle of hers, who had once found an injured owl by the side of the road. She had quickly stopped talking when she saw the expression on Harry’s face, but it was too late: Another nightmarish scenario had joined the others – Hedwig hit by a car, lying somewhere in a ditch by the road.

He couldn’t really concentrate in class anymore. He Transfigured his paper weight into a snowball rather than a rubber ball, and had to stay after class to mop up the mess. He cast his Glowing Charm on his thumb, and had to endure Malfoy’s stupid jokes about it. And worst of all, he messed up spectacularly in Potions class, where they were supposed to be brewing a Forgetfulness Potion.

“Really, Potter,” Snape drawled as he prodded Harry’s purplish concoction with his stirrer. “This is even worse than your usual bumbling attempts. Then again, you do not seem to have any need for a draught that causes forgetfulness, as you’re doing a fine imitation of its effects even without imbibing the potion. Did you remember to add two Valerian sprigs to your cauldron?”

Harry shook his head. Usually, he would have bristled at Snape’s sarcasm, but today he was hardly listening. “No, sir. Sorry.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. He seemed to have noticed that no patented Potter glare was coming his way, and for a moment almost seemed stumped for words. “Most unfortunate. I suggest you get rid of this… mixture, and start again. I received a delivery of fresh ingredients this morning, so there should be a few extras left. Ten points from Gryffindor if the potion is not brewed correctly by the end of the lesson.”

Harry traipsed over to the store cupboard, shoulders hanging. Snape’s mention of his delivery had brought back thoughts of Hedwig, and now he did feel the usual resentment towards the Potions Master rise within him. Snape, the git, still had his owl, and all he cared about was potions and stupid House points. What did it matter if Harry messed up his assignment? It wasn’t as if people were lining up to buy Potter’s Fantastic Potions. For a second or two, he saw himself dressed in black and billowing robes, handing potion phials to his eager customers and sneering at their admiring looks. The image made him smile, but thoughts of Hedwig quickly squashed any amusement he might have felt. Did Snape even have a familiar? Now that he came to think about it, Harry remembered a huge, dark eagle owl he had seen swooping down to Snape’s place at the teacher’s table now and then. Fred had even commented on it once. “Looks almost as mean as The Git himself, and that’s saying something.”

But Snape probably wouldn’t care if his owl was gone. All he cared about was potions and torturing students. Harry couldn’t imagine the man being fond of anything, let alone an owl.

“Are you planning on joining this class today, Potter, or would you rather I graded you on standing there like a useless lump and staring at my store cupboard? Mind you, the eventual result would probably be the same.”

Harry grabbed a handful of Valerian sprigs and mistletoe berries and returned to his workstation.

“Here,” Hermione whispered, pushing her mortar towards him. “I’ve crushed more berries than I need for my potion.”

Harry took them gratefully, keeping an eye on Snape who was inspecting Pansy Parkinson’s cauldron. If he used Hermione’s berries, he might still finish on time, and the greasy git wouldn’t take points.

Harry filled his cauldron with the river water dilution described in the textbook, and set to prepare his ingredients once more. If Hedwig didn’t come back soon, he’d have to do something. Harry wasn’t quite sure what, but he couldn’t stand the waiting any longer.

Snape passed by his desk, glancing at him out of narrowed eyes as if he suspected that Harry was up to something. But Harry didn’t care. If it meant finding Hedwig, he’d do a hundred detentions… even those where you had to clean slime-caked cauldrons with a brush and a spatula. Even if Snape had him do it with nothing but water and elbow-grease, like last time.

Unaware of the Potions Master’s gaze lingering on him, Harry went back to work.

###

That night, Harry waited until Ron and the others had fallen asleep, then slid quietly out of bed and grabbed his invisibility cloak from its peg. He had sneaked out alone before, but this time, his destination wasn’t an abandoned classroom and a mirror that showed him things best left unseen. This time, if he was caught, he would be in a world of trouble, and he didn’t want Ron or Hermione to have any part of it. It wouldn’t be fair. Besides, Hermione kept telling him to talk to a teacher, which Harry knew would be no use. Telling an adult, in his experience, only ever made matters worse.

He went down the spiral staircase to the common room and out of the portrait hole without any incidents. The Fat Lady didn’t seem to notice when he opened and closed her picture frame, although Harry would have to wake her once he was back. If he returned tonight, that was. He was determined to take as much time as he needed, even if it meant missing a day of classes. He couldn’t concentrate anyway, knowing that Hedwig might be somewhere out there, injured and alone. If she was, if there was a chance she had lost her way somewhere on Hogwarts grounds, he would find her.

He met no one on his way down the stairs, although he saw Nearly Headless Nick floating along at the other end of a corridor. Once, he thought he heard something other than a ghost move somewhere behind him, but nothing showed itself, and Harry decided that it must have been a mouse or cat, or maybe just his imagination. He loved Hogwarts, but he couldn’t deny that it was a scary place at night.

The Entrance Hall seemed even larger than it did at daytime. Darkness lurked in the corners and behind the suits of armor, ready to creep out and ensnare the ankles of anyone stupid enough to venture out after the sun had set on the castle. Harry was not generally afraid of the dark; his cupboard had cured him of that long ago. But nighttime did seem more alive at Hogwarts than it ever had at Privet Drive. More alive, and darker. There were no electric lamps here, only the occasional flickering torch which cast strange, nervous shadows on the walls.

Slowly, Harry approached the large double doors. Only now, it occurred to him that they might be locked. And even if they weren’t, the teachers might have some kind of alarm in place to alert them if anyone tried to enter – or leave – the castle at night. Did wizards have burglar alarms? Uncle Vernon had insisted on installing one, after there had been a report on the news about someone being mugged in Great Whinging. „Never know these days,“ he had said to the man who had delivered the alarm system. „What with all the young hoodlums around. Better to be safe than sorry.“

Harry closed his hand around the large, wrought-iron door handle, expecting an unholy screeching to rise up any second. Nothing happened. He pushed down the handle. The door was not locked, although it turned out to be almost too heavy for him to move. Finally, using both hands, he managed to push it open enough to squeeze through the small gap.

And then, he was standing outside.

Harry took a moment to take in his surroundings. The moon was full, its light throwing the grounds into sharp relief. Further down the hill, he could see Hagrid’s hut, and behind it, the dark silhouette of the forest. The place Dumbledore had expressly forbidden any students to enter unaccompanied.

Hedwig might be out there, Harry reminded himself sternly. Now was not the time to get cold feet. They’d never let him go out to the forest and look for her during the day, so this was the only way. If Hedwig was somewhere in the forest and needed his help, he would find her.

“Lumos!” Harry held out his wand to illuminate the path before him, aware of how strange this must look to anyone who was watching the grounds from a window: a ball of blue light, floating in mid-air. Like one of those will-o’-the-wisps Quirrel had mentioned in class – malicious spirits that lived in bogs and fens and delighted in misleading the careless wanderer.

Gripping his wand tighter, Harry decided that now was not the time to dwell on ghosts and spirits – not with the bushes and trees whispering in the night wind, and the faint eerie cries of an animal echoing in his ears. Making up ghost stories was fun when he was huddled in his safe bed and sharing chocolate frogs with Ron, but not out here. They seemed too real out here, the noises far too close. Determinedly, Harry did not turn around when he thought he heard a rustling sound behind him. If he scared himself too badly, he wouldn’t be able to go on, and Hedwig would be-

A large hand, firm and not at all ghostly, closed around his shoulder, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. “What-”

The cloak was pulled unceremoniously off his back. “That, Potter, is a very good question.”

Harry turned around. Snape was standing behind him, black robes rustling in the night wind, his expression as furious as Harry had ever seen it.

“What,” Snape continued, “was going on in that head of yours that prompted you to leave the school building at night – always assuming that you do occasionally indulge in the use of that tiny gray lump between your ears?”

Harry stood there, frozen. To be caught, by Snape of all people, and before he had even had a chance to begin searching. Snape looked ready to clout him a good one, and Harry instinctively took a step back, ducking his head.

“I’m – I’m sorry.” To his great dismay, he heard his voice crack on the last word. Snape would flay him alive, but Harry didn’t care. Now he’d never find Hedwig.

Snape did not slap him round the head, nor did he grab Harry’s ear to drag him back to the castle, the way Uncle Vernon sometimes did when Harry had earned a stint in the cupboard.

“You’re only sorry you were caught, Potter. What I want to know is why you would think it a good idea to leave the school at night! Do you have a death wish, boy?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes lowered so Snape wouldn’t see that he couldn’t quite hold back the tears any longer. A death wish. Hedwig had been out here for four nights, five counting this one. Was there even the slightest chance that she was still alive?

“A verbal answer, if you will, Potter. And look at me! I do not tolerate insolence, not even from the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry raised his head, suddenly angry. Hedwig might be lying somewhere in a bush, nothing but a still bundle of feathers, and Snape the Git only cared about Harry’s supposed ‘insolence’.

“It was important, okay! I really needed-”

“Really needed to put yourself in danger, ignoring all the efforts made to protect you? And what, pray, was so important that you needed to leave the school?”

“Hedwig!” Harry burst out despite himself. “Hedwig’s been missing for five days, and I had to go look for her!”

“And who on Merlin’s green earth is Hedwig, boy?”

“My owl,” Harry said, wiping angrily at his cheeks. “She’s never been gone for so long. Maybe – maybe something happened to her, and she’s out in the forest-”

“And you thought you’d sneak out at night and search the Forbidden Forest?” Snape seemed to swell with anger. “Are you out of your tiny mind, Potter? Do you know what lives in the forest?”

“Hedwig’s out there!” Harry shouted. He no longer cared that this was Snape, or that he’d probably lost a hundred House points already. “I couldn’t just leave her, could I?”

The muscles in Snape’s cheeks twitched, as if he was gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt. “You are unbelievable, Potter. Did it ever occur to you that you might approach a teacher about your problem?”

“As if you’d do anything to help,” Harry muttered. “You don’t care.”

“‘You don’t care, sir’,” Snape said. Then he was silent for a while – probably trying to think of the worst possible punishment, Harry thought gloomily. He didn’t care if he was locked in a dungeon with a hundred grimy cauldrons to clean. He felt kind of sorry about the House points Snape was going to take, but even that didn’t seem terribly important right now. All he could think of was Hedwig, who might be waiting for her wizard somewhere, wondering if Harry didn’t care that she was hurt and all alone.

“This owl, Potter,” Snape said, startling Harry into looking up. “It isn’t by any chance a large snowy owl?”

Harry’s eyes widened. Snape knew about Hedwig? “Yes, sir. Have you seen her?”

A strange expression crossed Snape’s face, almost as if he were… embarrassed? No, Harry decided. Snape would never be embarrassed, not even if he had to teach Potions in nothing but his underpants.

“I – might have,” Snape said, and Harry forgot all about possible situations that might embarrass the Potions Master. Snape had seen Hedwig!

“Where is she? Is she – is she alright?”

“I believe so,” Snape said, still in that strange tone.

“Can I see her, sir? Please, can you show me – please?” Harry didn’t care that he was begging Snape, of all people. He needed to be sure that it was really Hedwig, that she was not lying somewhere, hurting and waiting for him to rescue her.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Potter. You’ve already broken curfew-”

“Please, sir!” Harry interrupted desperately. “I’ll – I’ll clean your classroom and all of your cauldrons-”

“Indeed?” Snape’s eyebrow climbed a few more fractions towards his hairline. “Well, Potter, you may be assured that I’ll think of something useful for you to do. Follow me.”

He turned around swiftly, black robes whipping behind him, and began to stride towards the castle. Harry followed him as quickly as he could. He didn’t dare ask if Snape was taking him to Hedwig, just in case the man found his questions annoying and sent him off to bed. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. It had to be Hedwig. Harry didn’t think he could stand it if it were another snowy owl… but then again, Hedwig was the only white owl he had seen at Hogwarts.

Snape crossed the Entrance Hall and began to climb the marble staircase, never turning around to check if Harry was still following. Careful not to step on the Professor’s billowing robes (he was sure he’d be killed outright if he did), Harry tried to keep up with Snape’s long strides. They were not going to the dungeons, that much was clear. What if Snape had decided not to show him, to simply return Harry to Gryffindor Tower?

At the top of the stairs, however, Snape started down a corridor that led them away from the Gryffindor section of the castle. The portraits along the walls glared sleepily out of their frames, and a few of them muttered about being disturbed in the middle of the night. Snape didn’t spare them a single glance. He continued down the corridor, then took a sharp right into another, smaller hallway that was lit by a single, flickering torch. At the end of the hallway, Harry saw a wooden door with a tiny window set into it, through which a single beam of moonlight shone onto the floor.

Snape came to a halt in front of the door. He pulled his wand and waved it in a complicated pattern, muttering what sounded like a Latin incantation. The door in front of him gave an ominous creak, followed by a screech as if a rusty bolt had been drawn back on the other side. And then, the door swung open.

Harry followed Snape down a few stone steps that led into… a garden? Glancing around, Harry decided that it must be. One of Hogwarts’ many small outdoor enclosures, although Harry had never come across this particular one before. Even in the pale moonlight, he could see that it did not contain roses and other ornamental shrubs like the other courtyards. It was sectioned into beds, with narrow paths in between to allow the gardener easy access. Little signs had been stuck into the earth, and although Harry couldn’t quite read them in the dark, he was sure that they labeled the individual specimens of plants. At the back of the garden, a few trees and bushes grew on a small stretch of grass.

“Sir?” he asked hesitantly. “Where are we?”

“My potions garden,” Snape said curtly. “You didn’t assume all those ingredients you and your dunderheaded classmates waste in my lessons appeared out of thin air?”

He strode down the middle path in between the beds, and Harry hurried to follow. At a closer look, he saw that one of the beds contained basil, the next one asphodel, dittany, nasturtiums, and even the Valerian sprigs Harry had used in his Forgetfulness Potion. It was strange to think of Snape having a garden. Did he wear his black robes when he watered his plants and weeded the beds? For a moment, Harry imagined the Potions Master in shorts and a straw hat, pushing a wheelbarrow and whistling, much like next-door Mr. Thomas back in Privet Drive. He bit back a smile, glad that the Professor could not read his mind.

Snape led him to the grassy stretch at the back of the garden, where he came to a halt, holding up a hand. “Now, be very quiet, Potter.”

“Why-”

“Shhh!” Snape pointed. Harry followed his outstretched finger, and suddenly saw what Snape meant. There was an old apple tree, its blossoms looking pale and almost transparent in the cold light of the moon. A faint screeching could be heard from a hole in its trunk, and there, on a branch right next to the hole-

“Hedwig!” Harry breathed. The owl turned her head, looking surprised at his sudden appearance. She clacked her beak in greeting, but then another screech from the hole distracted her. Harry could see that she was holding something in her talons, from which she tore little bits with her beak. Suddenly a tiny head came popping out of the hole, followed by another, and another. The heads seemed to consist of nothing but wide-open beaks, and they screeched impatiently, vying for Hedwig’s attention. She fed the bits of meat into the beaks one by one, tearing off more as the screeching continued.

“Hooooh!” A deep, ominous-sounding call came from a tree closer to Harry. He turned his head and saw a huge black silhouette perched on one of the branches, its eyes glinting as it stared down at them. “Hoooooh!”

To Harry’s surprise, Snape held out his arm. “Don’t worry, old fellow. He’s safe. You know I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise.”

The owl in the tree spread its wings and came fluttering down onto Snape’s arm. It was a huge bird, the same eagle owl Harry had seen in the Great Hall. From up close, he looked even more intimidating - almost as dark as his wizard, with a large hooked beak and orange eyes that gave Harry an unblinking stare.

“Er, hello,” Harry said, feeling that some kind of greeting was in order. “Are you Hedwig’s, er, boyfriend?”

He felt his cheeks grow warm when the eagle owl continued to stare at him. “Hoooooh!”

“Er, I mean-”

“This is Diomedes,” Snape said gravely. “He and your owl seem to have decided to start a family together.”

“But he’s not a snowy…”

Both Snape and Diomedes gave him a Look. “That much is obvious, Potter. However, magical owls are perfectly capable of cross-breeding, and it seems that your Hedwig decided he was best-suited to keep her offspring safe and well-fed.”

Diomedes fluffed his feathers at that, turning his head to look at Hedwig, who was still feeding her babies. “Hooooh!”

She turned and clacked her beak at him, much like she did when she greeted Harry. If an owl could smile proudly, Harry was sure Diomedes would have sported a huge grin.

“So this is why she didn’t show up…”

Snape nodded. “As you can see, the owlets require round-the-clock care. She and Diomedes take turns in guarding the nest and hunting for food. I don’t suppose she has had much time for social calls in between.”

Harry looked at the little heads bobbing inside the hole. “Can I – can I see them?”

Snape and Diomedes shared a look, as if debating the matter between them. “I think so,” Snape said finally. “Be careful, though. Hedwig may trust you, but her instincts tell her to defend her young against any intruder.”

“I’ll be careful,” Harry said, his eyes on Hedwig as he slowly approached the tree. She turned and stared at him, then blinked once as if to tell him that it was okay to come closer. He took another few steps towards the tree. He didn’t quite reach up to look into the hole, and was looking for a branch to climb onto when he heard a spell muttered behind him. A moment later, a small stepladder had appeared at the foot of the tree.

“Hurry up, Potter, I don’t have all night.”

Harry climbed the ladder and stood on tiptoes, peering into the hole. Inside, he could see three dark balls of fluff and feathers, staring at him out of round, surprised eyes. The largest one clacked its beak and spread its tiny wings, as if to show him that he was dealing with a formidable owl-to-be. The other two, which looked more like Hedwig, sat nestled against each other, blinking up at the strange mammal that had appeared above their home place.

“Wow… you’ve had babies, Hedwig.” Very carefully, Harry stretched out a finger and petted the head of the smallest owlet. It closed its eyes and ruffled its fluffy plumage.

“Hooooh!”

At Diomedes’ warning cry, Harry pulled back his hand, petting Hedwig instead. “I’m glad you’re alright, girl. I was worried...”

She nipped his fingers affectionately, as if telling him not to be so silly. Then the screeching heads appeared in the hole again, and Hedwig began to tear off more meaty chunks to feed to her hungry offspring.

Harry climbed down the ladder, not sure whether he should feel happy or embarrassed. Hedwig was okay, and she’d had babies, with Snape’s owl, of all things! Three fluffy owlets that looked like old couch cushions with the stuffing hanging out. He looked at the Potions Master.

“Have you picked names for them yet?”

Again, that strange expression crossed Snape’s face, and Harry realized that he’d been wrong about many things where the Potions Master was concerned. “As it so happens, I have come up with a few. It should be up to the parents to make the final decision, however.”

Harry nodded, for once in complete agreement with his most hated teacher… although he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Snape in full nasty classroom mode was one thing, but who would have thought that The Git had a garden, and an owl he clearly cared about? And last but not least, three fluffy baby owls in an old apple tree.

“Diomedes seems to appreciate ‘Cassiopeia’ for the largest owlet,” Snape said, and the eagle owl on his arm clacked his beak in agreement.

“So she’s a girl?” Harry asked.

Snape nodded. “The other two are males, it seems.”

“Maybe one of them could be ‘Merlin’,” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. The sneer he had expected didn’t come, however.

“That would be an acceptable choice,” Snape said, and Diomedes clacked his beak.

Harry nodded, his mind whirling with possible names for the third owlet and the astonishing discovery that Snape, under that patented sneer and those intimidating black robes, seemed to be an actual human being.

“Can I come back to visit the babies, sir?” he ventured, hoping against hope that Snape would let him. “I’ll be real quiet, I promise.”

“Well,” Snape drawled, “I suppose there is still the matter of your punishment for tonight’s transgressions, Potter.”

Harry’s heart sank. Even Snape couldn’t be that mean, could he? Keeping him away from Hedwig and her babies… maybe he’d been right about the man after all, and Snape had only showed him the nest to make the following punishment that much worse.

“They’re my owls, too,” he said, trying to sound determined rather than whiny. “You can’t-”

“Can’t I?” Snape’s eyebrow had climbed into dangerous heights. “I should hope, Potter, that you are not trying to tell me what I can’t and cannot do, in my own garden no less. However, it would behoove you to keep you mouth shut and let me finish speaking.”

Without waiting for Harry’s answer, he continued. “As I said earlier, I think you should do something useful for your detention, rather than scrub cauldrons I could clean with a single sweep of my wand.”

He paused to smirk, and Harry glared. He had suspected for a while that wizards had ways of cleaning that did not involve wire brushes and sore, reddened hands.

“Now, as you can see, it is a lot of work to grow all the ingredients that are so thoughtlessly wasted every day by dunderheads such as yourself. To make sure you understand just how much work, you will report here on Friday afternoon after classes, and be sure to wear work clothes. The herb beds want weeding, and the Snakeweed seedlings I’ve acquired need to be planted.”

Harry could barely contain his grin. Snape might think that he was punishing him, but this was so much better than scrubbing dirty cauldrons. Even back at the Dursleys, he had liked gardening much more than all of his other chores – unlike his classmates, he could understand Neville’s obsession with plants, even if he wasn’t as brilliant at Herbology. And to spend time in Snape’s garden, where Hedwig and Diomedes were raising their family…

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, trying very hard not to sound excited. “I’ll be there.”

“I should think so,” was Snape’s caustic reply. “Fail to be on time, and I will detract a lot more points than the twenty-five I’m taking for your late-night wanderings.”

Well. Harry had not expected to get away without losing any points, and twenty-five was… not too bad. McGonagall might have taken even more.

“Yes, sir,” he said, and then, before he could stop himself: “Thanks for showing me the owlets, Professor.”

“Hmph,” Snape said, tossing him the invisibility cloak. “Off to bed with you, Potter, and no more detours, or gardening chores will be the least of your worries.”

With one final glance back at Hedwig and her chicks, Harry left, his cloak stuffed into the pocket of his robe. Strange, that Snape had given it back to him, but then, it wasn’t the strangest thing the Potions Master had done tonight.

As he climbed the stairs to the wooden door, he thought he heard Diomedes clacking his beak again, and his master’s quiet voice: “You’re a good father, aren’t you, looking out for your little ones. Yes, yes, you’re a good owl.”

But then, Harry might have just imagined it. This was Snape, after all.