Okay, I suppose this more a pilot than anything else...I wasn't planing on putting this up on just yet, but timydamonkey made me--so blame her...this is as the summery explained a fic where Harry is Salazar Slytherin's reincarnation...kinda...I also screwed up the basic character of Slytherin just to get away from the normally bad cliches of this plot...I also hope this is one of the few Harry is Slytherin fics because there certainly aren't enough...

So here it is...enjoy...or not, whatever, but review and tell me what you think...


Yes, in retrospect, Harry Potter had to concede that jumping off the Astronomy Tower just to see if he'd survive was probably not the best idea.

But sometimes being Harry Potter got so boring he felt like he had to do something drastic just to escape the monotony. This was really the best explanation as to why he'd landed himself in the Hospital Wing…pun intended.

On suicide watch…

The worst part about the whole thing was that he couldn't blame it on Voldemort because apparently while he had the sense knocked out of him from the fall, he'd raved about air resistance and how he had to be immortal because nothing would kill him…

Harry had also decided it would be best not to tell the glaring potions master, currently suicide watching, that it was simply a statement of fact.

At least it got Harry out of his boring as sin classes…not that sin was boring. Sinning could be a lot of fun in certain situations, not that Harry was going to mention that either…it simply wouldn't go over well.

Harry sighed in utter boredom and turned to look at Snape, who glared murderous death at him, and Harry sighed.

No, jumping off the astronomy tower had not been a good idea.

Harry Potter was so, so, so, so, so bored…there was nothing to do in the Infirmary. Being in the infirmary was enough to drive someone to suicide.

Harry wondered if it would be too much to ask for a little intervention.

…yeah, god hated him, no intervention for Harry tonight.

"You know Potter, I honestly have better things to do on Thursday night," Snape muttered, nastily.

"And you think I don't?" Harry retorted. He was going to go a bit further and tell Snape exactly what he could be doing, but Harry knew, from experience, that was not a very Harry Potter-ish thing to be doing. And doing non Harry Potter-like things ended up getting one in trouble, especially if one's name was Harry Potter.

"Yes, Potter, but I'm afraid that your idea of fun isn't exactly one that can be supported," Snape retorted, he must be feeling particularly malicious today.

"You mean slitting your wrists isn't the most fun you've ever had?" Harry demanded, and winced at the sarcasm in his tone. That comment was so far from being correct Harry Potter it wasn't even funny…he probably earned himself a place in St. Mungo's for that one. Instead, Snape sighed and turned, suddenly serious, rather than angry and said:

"Look Potter you like being here as much as I do, just tell me or someone why you did it and then we could probably let you out of here...because I personally find it hard to believe the boy who lived would take a dive off the highest tower in Hogwarts for no reason."

Harry wasn't quite sure what a proper Harry Potter response to that would be, and he settled for firmly laying back into the pillow and staring pointedly at the ceiling.

He really, really needed an intervention.

This time there was a slight twinge in the magical force around him, god this would take forever—he would be here until he died.

Even Snape startled straight up in his seat at the intense glee that pervaded the air with that thought. Absolutely disgusting, Harry could not believe that.

The silence stretched for at least an hour, and just as Snape began to grown antsy because his shift would be ending soon, so that a morose-eyed Dumbledore could stare at him pensively for four hours—that was when Harry turned to the man and asked:

"What would you think…if I told you that I was bored?"

Harry lathered his body up, carefully thumbing each rune that remained upon his stomach, feeling the magic stir beneath his fingers telling him their intent. Each rune would never be removed; they precisely stained his skin like freckles, an ancient language no one could understand.

A language driven by intent.

And it was not the runes that blemished his skin, it was the intent. The intent of a spell that should never be created, especially not with a magical language scarcely understood by the castor…

They were from a language driven by intent, an intent the castor was not strong enough to create on his own.

In fact, this intent so frightened the castor of the spell that Harry was being actively sought out in an attempt to be destroyed. For in the eyes of the man who had created this mess, Harry was a monster. A perverted twist of magics that weren't always as reliable as they should be.

At least not anymore, there had once been a time when magic driven by the faintest whim of the strongest intent could change the course of the planets…even to this day Pluto still ran before Neptune at certain times of the year. Harry could still recall the faint blush of the child, who could never get the order of those two planets correct, when she'd discovered they'd realigned themselves.

All these runes meant, all the orbits of Pluto and Neptune meant, all anything meant was simply this.

Magic was intent.

"You jumped off the astronomy tower because you were bored?"

"Well, when you say it like that…"

"Harry, I can't believe you would do that!" Hermione demanded, "You could have died! You quite possibly could have killed yourself because you were bored!"

"Miss Granger makes a good point, Harry, my dear boy."

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed vaguely realizing that this was some strange form of an intervention or something. He wondered if they worked the same way, that way he could admit he had a problem and be allowed out of the hospital wing.

"Yeah, there's definitely something not right about all this," Harry declared with a bored sigh, "I don't really know why I threw myself into danger like that…pun intended. I must definitely have a problem."

Harry fought back the urge to laugh at the surprised, pleased look on everyone's face. Boy, did he have them pegged this time…intervention indeed.

"I don't want any of you to worry about me or anything, there's nothing wrong with me, well there is, but I'm fine now, and I'm sure it wasn't Voldemort, I just…" Harry gave a very put-upon sigh that he was sure sounded just as fake as it felt. "Need some time or something, it's just so soon after…" Harry inhaled a little and shook his head closing his eyes, this time it was not fake, "Sirius died…I just need some time."

It definitely could have been a bit worse, Harry would give himself that. And the last bit, would definitely gain him a bit more patience, though he hated using Sirius, or even his grief for Sirius, like that. It was just horribly wrong, but what with the complete lack of control he had over his life there was just no way around it. Harry hoped Sirius would understand.

At least he hadn't used Sirius' name in vain, it appeared to be working. He would probably be out of this damn place in a few hours at most.

"If that's the case, my dear boy," Dumbledore said slowly, "I would like for you to find someone you could talk to."

Great, now he got to see a psychologist or whatever they called them in that magical world.

"I don't see why I would need to," Harry huffed, "but I guess I could do that."

"Then I guess, you're free to go—"

A stunning rendition of "We Are the Champions" began playing in Harry's head, and he did a mental victory dance.

"But first let Poppy check you over once more," Dumbledore requested, and Harry complied, only because he knew he would be able to remove the behavior checks they placed on him later. This one would no doubt be to encourage Harry to not jump off the astronomy tower, and just because of that Harry was tempted to do it again, just to spite them.

But Harry would refrain, because he was not dumb…often.