Creature Comfort

He was tall for a first-year. Lanky, but very swift in his movements. And always pale. Being far from handsome his face promised to be either interesting or just ugly. It was not yet decided.

Slytherin, of course.

Not the Malfoy type, but the one whose ambitions were rooted deeper, combined with a craving for power that went beyond the usual arrogant rich-boy attitude. Very intelligent, but too brooding, too bottled up.

Recently he'd started fighting with two of her own students, but she hadn't been bothered by that. She'd put it down to the usual inter-house rivalry. But well, she was most certainly bothered now.

"Explain this immediately, Master Snape!"

He stood rooted to the spot in the middle of what had been her Transfiguration classroom - until it had turned into this mess. The boy was covered from head to toe in dust and feathers. Tiny bits of parchment drifted lazily through the air, books lay everywhere on the ground between pieces of broken glass. He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles stuck out white.

"I said explain ... this!"

He bit his lips but still didn't answer.

"Well? Perhaps you would rather like to speak to the headmaster then? I'm sure he's -"

A horrible screech drowned the rest of her sentence and a huge grey owl sweapt over the boy's head. It tried to land on his shoulder but he ducked away under its wings.

"Get off me!" he cried out.

The owl tried again and the boy pushed it away. Not too hard but strong enough to throw it off course. Obviously not very happy with this treatment, the owl fluttered dizzily to the next shelf, where it caught itself and started hacking away at everything systematically.

She dashed over and snatched the last unharmed book from under the furious beak in a brave attempt to save at least - "How to Make Usefulle Thinges out of Your Catte" - she snorted and shoved it right back.

"Heavens! What ...? Is this your -" She paused. She'd never seen such a weird-looking "-owl?"

The boy nodded, still biting his lips.

"Then make it stop. Call it back at once."

"I ..."

"What are you waiting for, Master Snape?"

He let out a growl and turned to the owl. "Edgar, come down here."

It paused to cock its head ... and then turned back to complete its wreckage.

"Edgar!" He fumbled in the pockets of his trousers but didn't come up with anything useful. "Stop it! You stupid ... Get down here! Do what I say!"

Edgar ignored him and the boy's face turned red with embarrassment and anger. He glared death at the owl, then at her, then back at the owl and finally he dropped his gaze and stared at his boots.

Edgar clawed at something that started smoking, before it hooted smugly and placed itself on top of the shelf. It looked around with an expression that strangely reminded her of some scruffy old pirate captain. She blinked.

"Is that a scar across its beak? Are you sure your owl is ... healthy?"

"Of course he's healthy. I'm feeding him alright. Edgar's just not .... he doesn't like the owlery so I thought ..."

"You thought what?"

"He's totally useless," he suddenly spat out, waving a slightly trembling hand at Edgar. "He doesn't even deliver one bloody letter for me, let alone bring me some."

"Mind your words, Master Snape. You've lost enough points as it is."

"But I need to ... I thought I could train him." He made a somewhat surprised face and fell silent. He obviously hadn't want to say that much.

She eyed him over the rim of her spectacles. "You can't train a wizard's owl, boy. You either have a bond with it or -"

He cut her with a scowl and kicked at the remains of another poor book. She took a deep breath. Of course she'd noticed the boy's difficulties with living objects. Although Snape usually showed an extraordinary deftness in handling all kind of things, he seemed to lack that talent when it came to animals. His Transfiguration marks had been top rated, until the class had started to change objects into small animals. It wasn't much more complicated than the other way round, but it required a certain feeling for the essence of life. Snape's results had been ... unusual in the least.

"Hold out your arm."

"What?"

"Hold out your arm," she repeated.

"But ..."

"You aren't afraid of an owl, Master Snape, are you?"

"Of course I'm not afraid," he gritted out.

"Well?"

"No."

"Ten points from Slytherin then."

"What? That's not ... "

He looked as if he was going to say more but she knew he'd given up already. And after a few more moments of angry silence he hesitantly stretched out his arm. Instantly the owl took flight and landed neatly without fuzzing around. He swayed a bit under the weight.

She was surprised. She hadn't expected the owl to respond that quickly. Perhaps ...

"And now, stroke it."

He stiffened. "What? Why? He's calm now. I can take him to the owlery like that. I don't need to - "

"Perhaps he just likes it."

"But I don't."

"You want your owl to follow your orders?"

"Yes," he hissed.

"So?"

He started stroking the owl's feathers with a stone-faced expression, but carefully, and with what seemed quite a sure hand. Because the owl bent its head quickly and started rubbing its beak against his nose. He froze. For four or five seconds nothing happened and then - he jerked his arm back, panting.

"Alright. That's enough for now." She held out her own arm and Edgar took the offer with an disapproving hoot.

"Not bad for a start, young man."

"Will he deliver my mail now?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "No. But you will clean up my classroom now. And I will reconsider taking those points - and you and Edgar will be fifteen minutes early for Transfiguration class tomorrow. That is, if you don't need a written invitation."