Nobody ever asked my birthday

A Hired Wand

Harry wasn't the first into the Order meeting. When he walked in, nobody noticed.

All the attention was on Snape and Moody, facing off in the center of the room.

Snape had his hands on the table, leaning over it. Moody leaned over, as well, but wasn't bracing himself like Snape was.

"You'll use your own bare hands to dig them out!" Moody snarled.

"Nonsense. You might as well say that you would, under the influence, and thinking it would be a bloody good prank."

"I've never drank on duty!"

"Rubbish Auror business, that," Snape said, "Stick out something fierce in a pub, don't ya?"

"We have sobering charms!" Moody said.

"And there's no way a fingernail could dig through five feet of solid stone. No matter how much time you gave me!"

"Then how could they escape?" Moody said.

Snape smirked back, "Magic."

"You are a filthy traitor, and a disgrace to this Organization!"

"You are a ruddy liar -"

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore's voice boomed, so Harry never got to hear the end of Snape's venom. "This is an order meeting, not a time to squabble."

Harry felt that with reprimands like that, neither man was likely to give an inch. This would just happen the next time you put them in a room together. Snape and Moody's glares did nothing to dissuade Harry from that notion, neither.

Order Meetings were the boringest things! Harry still showed up - he was a member, he had to. But they were really boring.

Particularly when the subject was Finding the Chosen One.

Not even Dorcas Meadowes could summon up much enthusiasm. They'd been looking for a child Harry's age. Dorcas had been to The Americas, and in the middle of her report had even gone off on a tangent about sports...

Harry didn't care about any of it. Even Moody looked fretful.

And Snape? The less said about that man, the better. His dark anger seemed perilously close to boiling over.

Then they had to listen to Fletcher, who'd 'had a look about' for illicit children.

Harry felt his heart squeeze, when he realized they meant literal bastards. That Wizarding folk might just throw them over the wall into the Muggle world, rather than take care of a natural child. It wasn't right, Harry thought, it was despicable. At that moment, Harry kinda just wanted to punch Draco Malfoy in the face.

Traditionalists.

Sirius had never had any problem breaking traditions, and he'd had a hell of a life, Harry thought. Some part of him was wistful for more time with Sirius - but, Harry was startled to realize, he hadn't thought all that much about his godfather in quite some time...

Snape stood up, his tall form casting a long shadow on the table, "Nothing of significance to report. The Dark Lord attended the Annual Malfoy Christmas Ball. It was enjoyable to all." his wooden voice put the lie to the last bit.

At times, Harry had to wonder if Snape was at all capable of enjoying anything.

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