Though it was not the most direct path to his office, Snape had chosen to walk past the kitchens so that he might request some temporary supplies—he would need send an owl order soon for some of his own—and some food from the elves for his new familiar. The bustle of the kitchens startled the bird, who flapped his wings and let out a scream of irritation, crest held high.
"Calm yourself," Snape said, reaching up to lightly scratch the bird's breast feathers, hardly realizing it was the first time he had voluntarily touched his new familiar. "It is loud and disorganized, but no one will harm you here." Whether it was his voice or his touch he did not know, but the bird calmed enough to fold his wings back and stop screaming. The crest stayed raised, though.
Thinking of the parrot's probable reaction to things materializing in front of him without warning, Snape addressed the elf in front of him. "It might be a good idea to bring the things to my door and knock rather than delivering them directly."
"Yes, Professor Snape, sir," the elf agreed, bowing low.
A few minutes later he was settled in his office, the parrot standing on an old owl perch the house elves had found in the attics and eating from a bowl of chopped fruits and vegetables.
"I cannot keep calling you 'the bird' or 'he' now can I? If you were a familiar, I'd wager you already had a name, did you not?" The bird looked up from the apple slice held in one foot but did not answer.
"Do you not want to go by your old name? Or can you not say it? I've only heard you say 'hello.'"
"Hello," echoed the bird, this time not in Hagrid's voice but rather the voice of a child. "Pretty bird."
"Yes, well, pretty is not exactly the adjective I would have chosen."
The bird fluffed its feathers, and then, with great care, chose a carrot out of its food bowl and flung it in Snape's general direction. The projectile vegetable landed some feet away.
Snape felt his lips twitch in amusement. Oh yes, the creature understood at least some English. "I was going to say intimidating or regal, but if you prefer pretty…"
This got no response.
"Back to the task at hand. What is your name?"
"Boy!" the bird shouted shouted, this time in a deep bass voice. "Stop that!"
The bird's vocabulary and his range of voices were beginning to impress Snape.
"I see. Well, if you will not tell me your name, perhaps you can help me choose a new one. This bears some thinking about."
There was Nyx, goddess of night. But Snape had already begun to think of the bird as a he. If he was going to have a name, Snape felt it should accurately reflect the bird's sex. If he had been paying enough attention to the diagnostic charm earlier he would already know, but at that time he had been focused on deciphering the injury. He would have to cast it again.
Raising his wand, he began the incantation and then paused, remembering the bird's sensitivity to magic. "I am going to cast a spell on you, the same one I used earlier. It won't hurt, but it might tingle a bit," he said, feeling a bit foolish. It struck him as simultaneously natural and ridiculous to speak to the parrot as though every word would be understood. Snape was not about to let himself become one of those people who held entire conversations with animals.
The charm revealed that the bird was indeed male. It, no, he, was also slightly over five years old, although that number could hardly be trusted since the spell was designed with human physiology in mind. Other values, such as weight and body composition Snape could not interpret without much greater knowledge of the species, but the creature looked healthy enough, so he shrugged that off.
The question of sex solved, he could focus on a name. Most of the night related deities he could recall were goddesses. There were a few gods associated with the moon, but he could not name the great black bird after that pale orb. Apep? No, he was not only a god of darkness but of evil as well. That might impress his Slytherins, but he had enough associations with evil already to wish for any more. Varuna was god of the sky, which would work for a parrot, but Varuna had no association with night or darkness. Morpheus, god of dreams? Or better, Phobetor, god of nightmares; he thought the black and red coloration of his familiar might inspire nightmares in some of his more sensitive students. Possibly Erebus, god of darkness, born of Chaos. Yes, he liked that one. But would the bird?
"Erebus?" he tried out loud, liking how the name sounded. The bird, who was now methodically picking pieces of tomato out of his bowl and tossing them on the floor, paused for a moment, and then dropped the tomato it had just picked up.
"I do not know if that was a yes or a no. Would you prefer Morpheus?" he paused. "No? How about Phobetor?" Another pause. "Varuna?" He watched closely, but the bird did not respond to any of the names.
"Come here, Varuna," he tried, holding out his arm. Nothing. "Morpheus, come." The parrot selected an orange slice and bit into it. "Erebus, come here." Still holding the orange, the bird jumped from its perch and landed on Snape's arm.
"That settles it. Erebus it is." He stroked the bird's back, careful of the wing that his diagnostic scan suggested was still a bit sore. Erebus bit again into the orange, squirting juice into Snape's face.
"I suppose it would be too much to expect you to have some manners."
"Clean up this mess, boy!" the bird agreed in a commanding female voice, dropping the mangled remains of the orange slice onto Snape's lap.
Snape had not considered what he would do with his familiar the following day, but it seemed Erebus had decided opinions on the matter. As soon as Snape approached the door to his quarters, the great bird flew to his shoulder and clung there, refusing to remove to his perch.
The noise in the great hall at breakfast was not as cacophonous as it would be during lunch and dinner, too many students were half asleep to create the chaos typical of later in the day, yet it was still worse than the kitchens had been the previous day. Erebus reacted as badly as Snape feared he would, taking wing almost instantly to circle the room, flying high enough to bump into the enchanted ceiling at least twice, and screaming his displeasure as loudly as he could. This shocked most of the students enough that silence fell.
"That's enough, Erebus. The students are now properly in awe of you, I am sure" Snape drawled for all to hear, holding out his arm. The bird gave one last scream and then completed one more circuit of the Great Hall before landing heavily on Snape's arm.
"Hello!" the bird yelled, and then executed a little bounce, dropping his head down to the level of Snape's arm in a move that might be taken for a bow.
A few students chuckled, and gradually conversation resumed.
Meanwhile, Snape sat and went about fixing his breakfast. It was only out of long habit at concealing his thoughts from others that he was able to succeed at schooling his face not to show the amusement he felt at the reactions around him. His colleagues were more circumspect than the gaping students, but he caught the numerous glances in his direction when they thought he would not see. It was, predictably, a Gryffindor who broke the silence.
"I did not know you intended to acquire a familiar, Severus."
"I did not, Minerva. Erebus acquired me."
An expression he could not read flashed across her face—chagrin, maybe, or envy—before she graced him with a smile. "It is a great honor to be chosen."
Erebus hopped down from Snape's arm onto the staff table, knocking over an empty goblet. He then walked directly across Professor McGonagall's breakfast before jumping into the serving platter of eggs and beginning to eat.
"Yes, I can see how it would be considered an honor," Snape responded dryly. He nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the looks of horror on the faces around him. "Erebus, show some decorum, would you. Come here and let me get you your own plate." Snape matched actions to words, putting a selection of foods onto a saucer and placing it in front of his own place setting. This seemed to suit the parrot well enough, as he left off his attack on the serving platters and tucked in to the eggs and potatoes Snape had offered.
Dumbledore arrived then, customary smile in place, if looking rather fixed.
Next to him, McGonagall muttered something and the next instant he felt the somewhat confining pressure that came from being within a privacy ward. Sprout and Flitwick had noticed as well judging by their sudden attention to the transfiguration professor. "Has there been any news on Mr. Potter?" she asked.
Erebus looked up from his food and shook his head, scattering the bits of food that had clung to his beak.
Dumbledore brushed a piece potato out of his beard and sighed, his smile faltering. "I know the boy is still alive, but my location spells have continued to fail. The only recent development is the weakening of the wards. They had been stable until earlier this week, now they are near collapse."
A sharp intake of breath by Sprout echoed Snape's own sentiments. Those wards were important.
"I still think those muggles know more than they have told," Flitwick insisted.
"I never thought they would be good for the boy," McGonagall agreed.
Dumbledore shook his head, but it was Snape who spoke. "No. I questioned them myself, and they would not have been able to lie to me. They have no more idea of how he left their house than we do."
Snape recalled the night Dumbledore had discovered the Potter child's disappearance and how he had been summoned to interrogate the muggles while the headmaster began the search. He had not used enough legilimency to see the memory of the evening in question directly, feeling it beneath him to enter Petuna's mind, or the mind of any muggle for that matter unless it absolutely necessary, but just a touch of legilimency was sufficient to know that they were telling the truth. Wherever Harry Potter was now, the Dursleys did not know where that was or how he had gotten there.
After that, Snape had spent a large part of the summer seeking information from his more disreputable contacts, talking to dealers in illegal potions and former Death Eaters alike. None had given him any reason to suspect they knew the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived, which was both a relief and worrisome. If Potter had been kidnapped by someone in the wizarding world, they would at least have a clue and a much narrower group of people to investigate, but if it were the work of muggles, the boy could be anywhere. On the other hand, a muggle could not have concealed the child so well that Albus could not locate him. It was, he supposed, possible that the child's own accidental magic was responsible for the concealment, but why would it hide him for such an extended period rather than reach out for help? It was a mystery, and Severus Snape did not like mysteries that resisted solving.
Dumbledore, looking more weary than Snape had ever seen him, canceled McGonagall's privacy wards and changed the subject, inquiring about Erebus, who had sidled over to drink from the old wizard's teacup and was now snitching a piece of fruit from the headmaster's plate. Snape answered, more out of respect for his mentor than a desire to discuss his sudden acquisition of an ill-behaved familiar. Privacy wards notwithstanding, Harry Potter's disappearance was not something that should be discussed at the breakfast table. Not if they wanted to continue hiding it from the ministry.
Months passed, and Dumbledore's attempts to locate the Boy Who Was Missing grew increasingly desperate. The other day he had attempted to use a school owl to send the boy a letter, thinking maybe an owl could do better than his own location charms. To no one's great surprise, the owl had returned the next morning, dropping the missive on the staff table nearly knocking Erebus over in the process.
Thus it happened that Snape was sent back to Privet Drive, this time with Dumbledore's explicit permission to use legilimency to whatever extent necessary to discover the full truth.
Snape decided to bring Erebus with him. The parrot's presence would annoy Petunia, he knew, and the very thought prompted his lips to twist into a vicious smirk. Of course that was the reason Erebus would accompany him, Snape firmly told himself, it wasn't at all that he had grown quite used to his familiar's company and did not wish to be parted from him.
He knocked on the door and Petunia opened it, surprise and then anger crossing her face as she took in her uninvited guest. Or guests, rather.
"Go away," Petunia said, snarling and attempting to slam the door on him. He caught it before the latch could catch and forced it back open.
"I assure you, I am quite capable of standing on your doorstep until your neighbors have enough gossip to last them until summer," he drawled, his voice low and menacing. "I think it would be best to continue this conversation indoors, do you not agree? Erebus here can get quite loud when he senses that I am displeased."
"Detention," the bird said in a passable imitation of Snape's deadly tones. Snape had to bite back a laugh.
Petunia stepped back to let them in with considerable reluctance, flicking a contemptuous glance at Erebus but making no further objection to the bird's presence.
Although she did not invite him to sit, he did so, settling onto the hideous floral-patterned sofa and forcing himself to appear at ease, knowing that his casual attitude would further annoy Petunia. Erebus stepped from his shoulder onto the back of the sofa and eyed the woman with his inscrutable gaze, wings half-spread as though ready to fly at the least provocation.
"The investigation into the disappearance of your nephew is continuing, and I have some further questions for you."
She shook her head. "We already told you everything we know. We left the house for the night, with the boy in his room, and when we returned he was gone."
"But that does not answer the question of why you left a four year-old unattended in the first place."
"He was asleep in his room, and the neighbor was keeping an eye on the house for us. What trouble could he have gotten into?"
"Quite a bit, obviously, as he was no longer here when you returned." Snape said.
Erebus hissed and then bit into the couch, his overlarge beak tearing quite a large hole in the fabric. Snape narrowed his eyes at Petunia when she began to object, and she fell silent.
"Leaving the matter of your negligence aside for the moment, we must address the matter of how he was removed from your home. No magic hostile towards Mr. Potter could have been performed on the property, so he must have been taken by mundane means. You claim there was no evidence of forced entry or of a struggle, one or both of which you would expect had he been forcibly abducted.
"Even if he had been overpowered, the child's magic would likely have risen up in an attempt to protect him, yet not a single thing was out of place, despite the tendency of defensive magic of that sort to cause a bit of a mess. You have received no ransom and nor have we. There has not been even a whisper of his disappearance in my world, and believe me, if a wizard had stolen Harry Potter away, it would be inconceivable that they could keep it quiet for this long. To put it bluntly, we believe you are still withholding information crucial to our search."
Erebus had widened his hole in the upholstery and was now pulling out pieces of foam. Petunia stared at the bird with undisguised irritation and, to Snape's practiced eye, was not paying as much attention to the conversation as she should have been.
"Then perhaps he was not taken," she suggested, managing to imply that Snape was an idiot for not reaching that conclusion himself.
"You suggest the child ran away?" He had considered the notion several times, but never seriously. The child was four, well five now, as his birthday had passed since his disappearance. How could a child of that age survive alone and undiscovered for so long? More importantly why would Potter have run from his home? He addressed this last question to Petunia.
Petuna shrugged, though to Snape's practiced eye the tension of the gesture belied its implications of nonchalance. "You expect a normal person to be able to fathom the way your kind thinks? We took him in, fed him, clothed him, and cared for him, and not once was he anything but ungrateful."
Erebus left off his destruction of the sofa. "Shut up!" he yelled, followed by a wordless scream at the horse-faced woman. Then he jumped off the couch and ran towards the hall in the waddling way parrots have moving on the ground.
Snape felt a surge of anger and it took him a moment to realize that the emotion was not solely his own. He probed at that corner of his mind, eyes widening when he realized that the surge of emotion had come from his familiar. Had they bonded so extensively as to permit empathy? It was a rare occurrence, and unheard of in the first few months of being bonded.
He stood, putting off contemplation of this development until another time. For now it was more important to acknowledge the familiar's feelings and instincts. Without a word, Snape followed and saw the bird standing in front of the door to a cupboard set under the stairs, crest fully raised and attempting to chew the door to splinters. Erebus looked at him and then in a movement too deliberate for a normal parrot, one not attuned to and enhanced by association with magic, leaned forward and screamed at the door repeatedly.
Anger. Fear. Hatred. Hopelessness. Snape fairly reeled at the swirl of emotions coming through the bond now. He was forced to occlude before he could take another step lest he risk his knees buckling beneath him.
Sympathetic magic, it must be. The parrot must have some sensitivity to the residual emotions of the home.
"Shut up!" Petunia screamed, making Snape aware that he had not moved for several seconds. "Control that bloody nuisance."
Snape glared at her, and Erebus ignored the woman completely. He only stopped screaming when Snape set his hand on the latch to the cupboard.
"What are you doing?" Petuna said. Snape heard the anger in her voice, but also the fear beneath it.
"I am opening the cupboard." Why did people make a habit of asking questions with obvious answers? Why did he bother answering?
"I did not give you permission to poke about my home."
"No, and I do not intend to ask for it. Do not even think of interfering." The coldness of his tone froze Petunia in place, and he smirked at her before returning his attention to the door.
It opened to reveal…
A storage cupboard. He crouched down to inspect it, but saw only brooms, cleaning products, dust rags, a bucket, and the usual detritus of maintaining a clean house.
He made to close the door when Erebus hopped forward into the tiny room and picked something up out of the dusty corner. A muggle toy, he saw, when Erebus hopped back and dropped it into his outstretched hand. A cheap plastic toy solder missing an arm. Not something that belonged in a cleaning cupboard, certainly, but a discarded toy of this size might wind up anywhere. He shot a curious glance at his familiar, and then focused on the space again. Something had led the bird here.
Stretching his senses to their fullest, he felt it, there at the edge of his awareness there was the sense of magic. Magic had been performed in this space, often enough to leave a faint trace months after the only magical resident of the house had left. Had the Potter boy spent time in here amid the dust and harsh-smelling chemicals?
He lit his wand and peered closer. Yes, there was something. There in the back corner where the one bare bulb cast only shadows, were several childish crayon drawings and above them, in very shaky letters, "Harrys Room."
No. Not even Petunia would…
He stopped that thought right there. The time he had spent in service to the Dark Lord had taught him not to underestimate the depths one could sink to in the name of hatred, power, or fear.
"Thank you, Erebus," he said, stroking the bird's back before offering his arm as a perch. With practiced grace he stood, fixing his dark eyes on Petunia. "Tell me, Tuney, did you give the child cause to wish to leave your…care?"
"No. We gave him food and clothing and a space in our home, as I said earlier."
A lie, followed by half-truths. Likely not the first she had told today; he ought to have been paying better attention. Snape sighed; he had not wanted to enter Petunia's mind, but there was nothing for it. He stepped closer and casst legilimens wordlessly, soon immersed in memory images and the emotions attached to them.
A child in a basket on the front steps, accompanied by nothing more than a letter insisting that he be cared for. Who did that sort of thing? To just expect her to take in the child of those, those, good for nothing freaks! But then that letter suggested she would be in danger if they didn't. It was too much! She knew Lily ought never have listened to that Snape boy and gone to that crazy school.
The scene shifted
Harry Potter standing up in his crib and screaming. Would the boy never stop screaming? Dudley never screamed like this, as soon as Dudly had a sucker he would be quiet. Harry didn't want a sucker and had thrown it down. Fine, she needent waste her money on treats for the child. He wasn't hers, after all.
"Be quiet, boy!" a fat man yelled over his shoulder, not bothering to stand up or even avert his eyes from the telly. Petunia, her arms occupied with her own son, joined her husband on the couch, raising the volume to drown out the cries of "Mama! Wan' Mama! Wan' Dada!" coming from the corner.
Another shift.
Harry was older now, maybe three or four, and his green eyes were filled with wonder as his cousin opened present after present. Vernon was wholly engaged in watching his son, but Petunia kept half an eye on Harry, lest the boy be allowed to spoil the family's Christmas. Dudley threw away shred of red paper covered with smiling snowmen as he tore at the wrapping around a new toy truck, complete with flashing lights and sirens. Harry picked up the paper, staring at it with undisguised longing for a moment. And then he giggled. Petunia looked more closely and gasped. The snowmen on the paper were dancing and waving.
"Vernon," she called, a tremor in her voice as she snatched the paper away and showed it to her husband.
The man growled and threw the paper into the fireplace, ignoring Harry's cry. "I'll have none of this…this funny business in my home, do you hear me. None." He grabbed Harry by the arm and half walked, half dragged the confused child to the hall, all but throwing him onto the small mattress on the cupboard floor. "No supper for you, and you're to stay in there for the next week unless you're doing chores."
Scarcely willing to believe what he was seeing, Snape grabbed for another memory.
Petunia carried the vase of flowers into the parlor, placing it just so on the mantle. One of Vernon's more important clients was coming to dinner tonight, and everything needed to be perfect. As she walked back down the hall to the kitchen to check on the roast, she heard a quiet whimper from under the stairs. "Hush now," she scolded. "You're to be absolutely silent when our guests are here, and you might as well begin practicing now." With that, she slid the ventilation grate closed, muffling the cries that had only intensified at her harsh words. He would settle down by the time Vernon arrived home. He always did.
Snape broke the connection. There were more memories, he was sure, but he had seen enough to ascertain the likely truth. Harry Potter had more than sufficient incentive to flee Privet Drive accounting for much of the lack of evidence. Furthermore, their inability to find him could be explained by accidental magic. If the child feared being found and forced back into this house, his magic could have chosen to make him impossible to find. Until the spell dissipated, if it ever did, their efforts would be in vain.
Troublesome child. This was a stunt worthy of James Potter…
No, that wasn't true. James Potter had been a spoiled brat of the first order. From what he had seen, Harry's upbringing was more similar to Snape's own than to the elder Potter's. Absentmindedly, he stroked Erebus, who was still perched on his arm. Never would he have believed himself capable of feeling empathy for James Potter's son. But the boy was only James's son in blood, not in upbringing or in manner. When the child was found, he vowed he would not forget that.
Until then, he could only offer his support to the headmaster's efforts to locate the boy and secure his safety.
"What…what did you do to me?" Petunia asked, snapping him out of his musings.
"Nothing compared to what will soon happen, I assure you." He felt his magic surging within him, begging for release. And something more as well. With a start, he realized that once again the something more was coming from Erebus. Now the bond was sending magic as well as emotions! He could feel the bird's energy brushing up against his own, sharing in his eagerness for retribution. Nothing had prepared him, though, for the sheer amount of power he felt from the creature. It was unfocused power, but power all the same. With this much magic at his disposal, the Dursley's could be left as little more than a pile of ashes scattering to the four winds. And it was tempting, oh, so very tempting to deliver vengeance for Lily's son.
A deep breath. Then another. And another. Finally Snape felt his magic come back under his control. "I was sent here to collect information, not as an instrument of justice. But I assure you, justice will come." Not trusting his control any further, he spun on his heel and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts. Dumbledore would need his report.