Nobody ever asked my birthday

Chapter 107

Harry Potter rapidly discovered, as the meeting turned more intricate and delicate, that he was honestly getting angry that Snape wasn't here. True, these were the Order's plans, or scant shadows of Voldemort's cast on the wall... things that Dumbledore would rather Voldemort not know about, at nearly any cost.

But still, it felt wrong to him. Like the sound of a snake slithering through grass - almost unnoticeable and completely spine-tingling.

Snape, of course, was a top-drawer actor. He'd had to be to survive being a spy (and, perhaps, Harry contemplated, being a teacher as well. He couldn't have started as that dark bastard of the classroom, could he have? At some point, he'd have stood up there, just as nervous as Harry or Hermione'd been the first DA meeting...).

But, it seemed like Dumbledore was actively forgetting a far more integral part of Snape - his insight. Unlike Hermione's, it was tuned to people, not magic or things. He'd known it was Quirrel, after all. And even in fourth year, when they'd all been jumping at shadows, while the real danger lurked below...

And it wasn't like they were really planning anything amazing. The biggest plans they had were to send the Open Order Members (a contradiction in terms for a vigilante organization, but Voldemort knew about some of them - and not always through Snape) scanning the Continent for birth certificates. Testing the children.

Harry shuddered. It had been hard enough coming to terms with being Britain's Saviour at the tender age of eleven. How much worse would it be, at the age of sixteen, and when you didn't even live there? "Oh, excuse me, good chap, would you mind popping over and saving our bonnie wee land?" Harry really hoped that Hagrid wouldn't be breaking the news. Hagrid was a good friend, and all, but he wasn't really the type. McGonagall would be a better choice.

As the meeting continued, Harry slipped more into the doldrums of his mind. What if this Saviour was some sort of genius? Nothing like Harry Potter at all... something like Hermione, or Dumbledore (ak! thinking of him at age sixteen was actively horrifying!). Would they all clap Harry Potter on the shoulder, saying "we're sorry, old boy, for putting all our cares and hopes on you. Obviously there was a better choice, right there all along."

Even Hermione, who'd been scribbling notes most of the meeting, was starting to flag. Neville and Ron were being inattentive, but that wasn't unusual. The weasley twins had their heads together, in a look that Harry'd recognize any day of the week, it was so familiar.

As the meeting ended, Harry Potter stood up, his friends exiting with him - as he slowly started to work on controlling his anger. He was not going to storm up and yell at Albus Dumbledore! He ... wasn't.

"I'm going flying." He said curtly, and said no more, though he was aware of Ron and Hermione's eyes on his back, watching him worriedly.

[a/n: Harry's characterization of Snape has little to do with personal feelings. Just understanding.

Of course, it's rather a little disturbing to think that Harry knows Snape better than Dumbledore does, isn't it?

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