Dumbledore's office was arguably the most overwhelming room they could have possibly taken Severus to. He had no idea where to look; the towering bookshelves, the spiraling staircases, the dangling trinkets and artifacts, artifacts on spindly tables blowing smoke, the cabinets filled with bits and baubles. But, finally, he decided to focus on the food. There was already a spread of food set up on a conjured table, and it was more food than he had ever seen in his entire life; a roast, pasties, pies, mash, vegetables, and desserts all piled on beautiful plates. And, of course, the requested goblet of juice. It was more food than three adults could eat, let alone two adults and a very small child.

"Help yourself to anything you'd like," the old man said. Severus knew this was a Trick, though. But knowing that did not make it any easier.

"No, thank you." He whispered, although everything about him indicated he wanted to do just that. Severus sat with his hands firmly in his lap but his eyes followed every movement of the old wizard; every time he added something else to his plate, dark eyes were focused intensely on him. He appeared simultaneously fascinated and terrified; more than once, Albus or Minerva moved too quickly and Severus's dark eyes went wide with panic.

When it was clear that Severus wouldn't serve himself, Albus placed three angel slices — a treat no mortal child could possibly resist — on a plate and placed it directly in front of Severus.

"Have you tried these before?" Albus asked conversationally. Severus gulped and shook his head. His parents were not the type to buy cakes. "You really should. I have always been fond of that little pink design on top. Will you let me know if you like it?"

Hesitantly, Severus reached for one slice.

"He shouldn't start with cake," Minerva said primly. Severus retracted his hands immediately and set them back in his lap.

"I think it's perfectly acceptable to sometimes start with cake," Dumbledore replied with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Because it was clear that the boy would not take initiative, Albus pushed the plate a little closer. "I might just do the same."

It was that moment that the boy's hunger overtook his concern about taking food from strangers. Severus ate with his hands and barely chewed the food before swallowing. It was like watching a stray dog who had been transfigured into a little boy and finally enjoyed the thrill of using opposable thumbs. It was almost like he wasn't tasting it and simply trying to get as much into his stomach as possible all at once.

"Slow down, boy," Albus chucked but Severus dropped a handful of food and sat back, his dark eyes wide in panic. He gulped and the food stuck in his throat, making him choke.

"I'm sorry."

"I just don't want you to feel sick," Albus soothed. "Why don't you take a moment, and then we'll eat some more. You're still hungry, aren't you?"

Severus nodded meekly.

"Then this is a good time to switch to vegetables," Minerva said, filling a second plate for the boy, "but the food is hot, and you'll need to use a fork. Can you do that?"

Sometimes, Severus had to feed himself. And he was pretty good at that. But sometimes, when his mother was particularly sad or when Tobias had been particularly violent and Severus was anxious and fussy, Eileen would sit the boy into her lap and feed him herself. This might have been seen as babyish by other toddlers, but Severus liked it. It was something that felt special and, perhaps more importantly, it was something that didn't happen when his father was around.

After a long moment of regarding the fork, he stabbed it into a roasted carrot. His grip wasn't very strong, so his hand was clutching right where the handle met the tines. This meant his hands were getting into the food anyway.

Severus licked the plate, quite literally licked it clean. This did nothing to soften the comparison to a dog in a human body comparison. Albus and Minerva exchanged glances but both politely declined to comment.

When the food was gone (Severus, despite his size, managed to put away several plates full) the witch and wizard expected him to barrage them with questions. Severus, though, was not focused on his parents' whereabouts at that moment. Because in order to send the plates away, Dumbledore had pulled out his wand. And that was perhaps the most amazing thing Severus had seen.

"You have a wand," he said, immediately lifting his head from his arms, which he had been using as a pillow.

Albus smiled at him. "Yes. All wizards do. You may look at it if you would like, once we retire to the sitting room."

"We're sitting now."

"You are correct. But, a sitting room is much more comfortable than my study."

A room just for sitting? They were very rich.

Although the headmaster's office was impressive, it was not very comfortable. But beyond the study were several private chambers, such as a small room reserved for personal meetings that had a cozy vibe rather than the whimsical, studious quality of the main study. Beyond that he had rooms with various half-finished experiments, plus a private bed chamber. They landed in the smaller study where a large plush couch and overstuffed chairs awaited them. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which gave the entire room a subtle papery smell. Severus had never seen so many books in one place. He was not very great at numbers yet, but he had to assume there were at least twenty in the whole place; in reality, Dumbledore's collection of books was in the thousands.

Albus had taken Snape's wand, a beautiful, powerful thing, from his robes after the transformation. He planned to store it with all of the other things the man had insisted on keeping, which ironically were just in the next room, condensed into several magically expanding trunks. A small part of him worried that, if the young Snaps held his own wand, some sort of unexpected magical outburst might happen.

So Albus Dumbledore handed him the Elder Wand. It was flowing with magic, more so than his mother's wand. It was almost electric, the feeling spreading from his fingertips all the way into his core.

Dumbledore almost expected Severus to start waving it around, but he only held the stick and stared at it with his dark eyes wide and clearly thrilled. Eileen had always been very clear that Severus should never wave her wand around, on the rare occasion that she allowed him to see it. Severus, being a remarkably talented wizard, had shown signs of early magic at an incredibly young age; and because Tobias Snape hated magic, Eileen did everything in her power to dissuade Severus from acting magically unless she was absolutely sure Tobias would not find out.

He still suspected that his son was a wizard, even when Eileen would take the blame for any unexpected underage magic in the house. Tobias simply believed he could physically persuade his son from choosing to be normal.

It had not worked.

"It's tingly," Severus informed him. Albus raised his brows.

"Is it? That's interesting."

Severus did not want to give the wand back. He turned it around in his hands, staring intently at it. Albus gently placed two fingers on the end of the wand.

"Would you like to see me perform a spell?"

"Yes," answered the boy instantly, letting the wizard take the wand from his grip.

Apparently, nobody had ever told the boy that he shouldn't put his feet on furniture; he was sitting in perhaps the most abnormal way possible, with both feet on the couch cushion and his hands braced between his legs. Like a frog.

It looked incredibly uncomfortable to both Dumbledore and McGonagall, who had long since passed the age where you could sit in odd positions without hurting your hips or back. But it was the perfect position for Severus to lean forward as Albus performed a very simple spell to change the color of a vase on one of the many spindly side tables.

There were no diminishing returns; each time he performed the exact same spell, Severus was thrilled just the same. Minerva could not decide if Severus was just very easily amused, if he was feigning interest after the first few times just to be polite, or if his mother had somehow just never performed the very simple spell in his presence.

But Severus Snape had never seemed the type to do anything just to seem polite.

The only reprieve Dumbledore received was when Severus hit a wall and was suddenly unable to remain half-leaned out from the sofa. He readjusted his position a few times before laying on the sofa, feet still pressed into the cushions and his head uncomfortably against the arm rest. And that did him in; within minutes of laying down, Severus fell asleep.

"He is rather cute," said Minerva, once the adults were certain they could hold a conversation without him waking again.

"And easily entertained," Dumbledore added as he slipped his wand back into his sleeve. "I will confess, I wasn't sure what we would do if he had our Severus' usual aire."

"Speaking of what to do," the witch frowned, "where is he going to sleep?"

Albus hummed. "I suppose he can't stay in the dormitories."

"I should say not! Albus, did you plan anything?"

As if sensing an argument, although they had both been speaking softly, Severus stirred and sat up, looking incredibly confused at his current location. Before he could ask for his mother, again, Minerva swooped in.

"Professor Dumbledore has been kind enough to offer you his bed to sleep in tonight."

"Have I?" The wizard laughed, "and where will I sleep?"

"Transfigure a bed," she suggested, meeting the man's amused gaze with one of her own. "Or sleep in the dormitories."

Dumbledore's bed chambers were as chaotic as his office; the walls were covered in a bold, celestial wallpaper and moved all on its own, creating new constellations every few minutes. There were strange mechanisms on the walls and on various tables that might have been intended to be side tables, if they were against the enormous bed in the center of the room. But they weren't. They were against nearly every wall and some were standing on their own in the center of the room, untethered to the structure of the room. There was one small, circular table against one side of the bed that contained one very large book and a spare pair of spectacles.

Minerva placed the boy in the center of the bed and he looked even smaller, more frail than before. He was almost asleep, with his long, greasy hair spread out like a dark halo on the pillow and his thick eye flashes fluttering as he tried, and failed, to keep his eyes open.

He looked both incredibly foreign to her and so very much like Severus Snape. If she could remove the association with Severus Snape, thought Minerva, this would be a much easier task.

"Do you have a nickname?" She asked, because there was no better time to bring it up than when Severus looked about ready to fall asleep again.

Because, really, she can't keep calling him Severus.

He blinked at her.

"What's that?"

"A shorter version of your name. My name is Minerva, and when I was young people wanted to call me something shorter." And she had hated it; it was Minerva or nothing, thank you very much. She was never Minnie or Mina. "Are you always called by your full name?"

Severus considered the question with as much focus as a tired toddler could. Tobias usually called him Boy, or sometimes Freak. But, when he did use a name...

"Da calls me Toby."

That was unexpected. Minerva wracked her brain for how anyone could get Toby from Severus. There wasn't a single letter in common between the two. And then it hit her.

"Because that's your middle name, isn't it? Tobias?"

Severus nodded sleepily.

"Do you like that name?"

He shook his head.

"What does your mum call you?"

Did Ma use his name at all? Severus cannot remember and that was all at once very terrifying. His throat felt hot and tight.

"I forget," Severus said, sounding absolutely miserable.

"That's alright, don't fret about it." Minerva said kindly, "I was only curious. Go to sleep."

Severus did eventually go to sleep, but he spent several long minutes trying to recall if his mother had spoken to him at all recently.