Chapter Text
The Breaking Point
Harry Potter stood in the center of the room with his hands clenched into fists, breathing heavily. He felt hot and his body trembled with the force of his rage. This time they have gone to damn far! Harry glared from one Order member to another as the argument flowed around him. Dumbledore, sitting calmly at the head of the table sucking on a lemon drop, was not spared any more than those standing and shouting at one another.
You would think that by now, Harry would be used to these people feeling entitled to deciding the course of his life for him. You would think, by now, Harry was used to being manipulated and “guided.” For his own good, of course. You would think, he would be resigned by now to having his fate decided for him, sometimes even right in front of him. Like now. And to an extent, you’d be right. There was a madman trying to kill him, there was a war going on and people were dying. He understood the Order was trying to win a war. He accepted that this meant he was at times viewed and treated like a chess pawn. Didn’t mean he liked it, but he accepted it. He even accepted being ignored on the occasions he tried to make a decision, because he realized he didn’t always have all of the information available to the other members. (Another of the many examples of others controlling his life. If he was supposed to defeat Voldemort, shouldn’t he have all the information available?)
This, however, was different. This time, these bastards have crossed the line. As far as Harry is concerned, once he defeats Voldemort his life is his own. His to do whatever he wants with. And these people had the nerve to think they can continue to run his life for him after Voldemort was gone. Well no fucking way! I don’t give a FUCK what people need from the “Boy-Who-Lived” after I save the entire fucking wizarding world. I don’t give a fuck what kind of symbol people want me to be after Voldemort’s gone. After I get rid of Voldemort I have done my fucking duty! I will NOT live my entire fucking life to please the rest of the fucking wizarding world!
While Harry stood there, gritting his teeth to prevent from screaming and muscles locked to keep from attacking someone, the Order members ignored him. Even Dumbledore didn’t so much as glance at Harry as he occasionally interjected a comment into the discussion. Which was probably for the best as, given a target, Harry might have just let go and expressed his extreme displeasure for the way this meeting was proceeding. Harry’s rage grew as he thought back to all of his previous, unsuccessful, attempts to control his own life. His jaw ached from keeping his internal diatribe behind his teeth.
Harry’s roving glare caught on the one member who seemed to have no interest in the discussion at all. As Harry stood there staring at Severus Snape, a idea began to form. It was a strange idea, but Harry felt this definitely qualified as desperate times. The idea continued to grow as Harry examined the bored expression on Snape’s face.
None of Harry’s previous attempts to take back control of his life had been successful. But then, all of his previous attempts were rather - Gryffindor - in their rather straight forward approach. Harry wondered if a more - Slytherin - method might be the answer to his problem. The more he considered it, the more he rather liked the idea.
Of course, Harry wasn’t a Slytherin and he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without a little help, but he must have at least the seeds of a Slytherin in him or the sorting hat would not have wanted to put him in Slytherin. And since that was the hat’s first choice for him, Harry figured, with a little effort on his part he might even make a pretty decent Slytherin.
Suddenly, Snape turned his head and looked at Harry, raising one eyebrow. Harry just smiled and watched as Snape’s eyes narrowed. Harry just smiled wider. Yes, the Slytherin method might be just what he needs.