Harry Potter hadn't really spent much time in the Headmaster's office. It had just felt like he had.
He felt really, really stupid. Of course there was something deeper than just the surface meaning, and of course he'd missed it. Harry was always missing things - Hadn't he thought it was Snape who was after the Stone his first year?
Harry, when he propelled himself out of the room, left like a bullet. He was pretty sure the chair fell over too.
He didn't care.
He was upset, at himself, at Slytherins and their bloody secrets, and at being upset with people who were doing Bloody Important Business, and thus he couldn't go yell at right now.
It reminded him of being at his Uncle's house. But then he'd never gotten to yell at them, not ever. Here, he just had to wait. Harry bloody hated waiting, and by the time he was out and halfway up to the Owlry, he remembered why he shouldn't be around people right now.
Granted, that was because a horde of Hufflepuffs was attempting to bat their eyelashes at him. Uggh.
Harry plummeted his way down a spare staircase (glad that it was only missing three steps - he couldn't have jumped over four). He was rightly angry, and that wasn't a state he wanted to meet people in.
Harry wound up outside nearly before he'd known what he was doing. He'd grabbed a broom, and was up and off it, running across the pitch, before he'd really settled in. He wasn't in the mood for flying. Flying gave him time to think, and in this mood, he'd just stew over everything.
He was halfway out to the Forbidden Forest before he realized what he was doing, either. The burn in his lungs felt pleasant, even. He'd taken up a stick, near Hagrid's Hut - who'd come out to wave, and Harry saluted him, even as he ducked into the forest. At least Hagrid isn't going to tell anyone else. He's convinced the entire population of the forest is PygmyPuffs! Harry began to beat trees, slashing at them with the stick, trying to imagine it being a sword.
He'd gone in far enough that Hagrid couldn't see him, at least, and wasn't deranged enough to go farther, so he just kept on bashing things until he slumped to the ground, drained of any emotion whatsoever.
And to think, he'd wanted to ask that rotten bastard if anything was wrong with him!
Harry concluded, wryly, that it was bleedin' obvious there was a lot wrong with the Head of Slytherin House.
[a/n: Harry's annoyed. Can you guess why? At least he's not sending Hermione up to her room in tears, unlike a certain redhead. Or Malfoy, for that matter.
Harry's ... working on his temper, at least.
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By the way, I've just finished Sanctuary, a full story in less time than it's taken this one to get to Hogwarts! Have a read!]