A/N: Just head off the confusion. When other personalities are Out, Harry's body doesn't physically change at all. The way the other personalities are described physically in the soul room in this chapter is just how they perceive themselves.
Sorcerer's Stone
"I'm warning you, Boy." He said slowly with deliberate malice. Harry stared wide-eyed. Boy trembled deep inside and prepared to take over. Vernon put his face right into Harry's, grabbing Harry by his loose collar. "You talk about us to any of the freaks and you'll regret it. Do I make myself clear? Not one damn word, Boy. Not one."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry whispered fearfully. In his memory, he hadn't ever seen his uncle so frightening. Vernon grunted and backed off, reaching for his belt. Boy forced Harry back and took his place……
xXxXxXx
The next morning not even Boy could heal Harry of all his bruises. The eleven year old assumed he had slept poorly; he had never slept in a bed before after all. And he did remember his Uncle's warning. It still rang in his ears. Who wouldn't sleep poorly after that? Not that he would have spoken about the Dursley's at school, Harry scoffed. He'd be busy with other things. In fact, he was planning on thinking of his family as little as possible.
Harry smirked at his cousin as he stepped out of the car with all his new things. Dudley whimpered. They were going to take him to the hospital to get the tail removed after dropping Harry off. Harry hoped it was really painful. He was rather happy as he pushed his things to the right platform and followed a redheaded family onto the train.
When the youngest boy eventually found him alone in the compartment and sat down, Harry employed the same method of learning as he had with the blonde. He quickly realized that the redhead came from the opposite faction. As Ron described Hogwart's Houses and that all the Slytherins were evil, he remembered the blonde proudly saying he was going to be in Slytherin. He also remembered him calling Hagrid a servant.
After Draco barged into the compartment, Harry knew that he didn't want to be Slytherin; even though he was well aware that he had more of the traits of that house than he had of any other, though Gryffindor was a close second. He didn't want to be in the same House as the man who had murdered his parents and was the cause of him living with his Aunt and Uncle. He fell silent for the rest of the ride, listening absently as the redhead talked on.
The stress built to the breaking point as the Sorting Hat said he would do well in Slytherin. In fact, it felt like something inside him broke, like a sharp change in air pressure, and the stress was gone after a wave of vertigo. He felt confident and straightened from his slump. The Hat was eerily silent before it shouted "Gryffindor!".
Unknown to Harry, he was now missing parts of his past. All his worry on the train and his more vicious moments when he had used cunning to get revenge on his cousin and the neighborhood bullies were erased and stored in a whole new personality. He didn't even remember that the hat wanted him in Slytherin. He grinned broadly and ran over to Ron at the lion's table happily.
xXxXxXx
Silas observed his surroundings, knowing he was no longer a part of Harry. He stood in a bedroom that had an empty bookcase, a black reading chair, a bed with deep-green sheets, and a full length mirror. He stepped up to it and looked at his reflection. He looked to be two years older than Harry, about thirteen.
He wore Slytherin robes that hung open to reveal a high quality white silk shirt and perfectly tailored black slacks that hung draped over polished black dress boots. He had straight, silky, black, chin-length hair that was hooked behind his ears. A silver earring stud pierced his left ear. His face had angular features similar to Harry's, but not identical, and his eyes swirled between light blue and a pale gray hypnotically.
Satisfied, he stalked to the door and threw it open. He knew about the others and knew what they each did for Harry, and he wanted to see them for himself. He found himself stepping into what looked like a neutral sitting room; the carpet was white, the single sofa was black, and the drapes adorning the stone walls were a soft cream. There were three other doors. He went to the door closest to his own. It was a plain, white and square, where as his was a dark mahogany with a half-circle top. He opened the white door and found Rose.
The eleven year old girl was curled in her bed, smiling slightly as she dreamed. There was a large window that allowed golden sunlight into the room. Plants and herbs of all kinds sat before it, obviously lovingly tended. Cookbooks sat on a small bookcase. A full-length silver mirror stood beside it and on the other side was a white plush chair. An apron hung on a silver hook by the door. Gardening tools sat on a small table by the plants and the window.
The carpet was white, her bedspread light pink with dark red roses. The walls were tinted a light sky blue. Everything was spotlessly clean, including Rose herself. The little girl had waist length blonde hair in a loose braid. She had rose petal lips and a white frilly dress that fell to her knees. White dress shoes sat neatly on the floor by the bed. Her golden head turned to face him and kind blue eyes opened sleepily to look at him. Confusion ran across her sweet face.
"I'm Silas." He told her. "I'm going to be keeping track of you and making sure Harry doesn't do anything stupid. Go back to sleep."
She nodded again and closed her eyes. He shut her door softly behind him despite knowing the girl was deaf. The next door was an exact replica of the cupboard door back at Number 4. He sneered at it and opened it, hunching over so he could get in. The inside looked just like the cupboard too and he had to crouch.
The ugly cot was pushed up against the far wall instead of to the side as it was in the real cupboard. On it lay a five year old boy. The child's eyes snapped open. The irises were black, full of tears, despair, and pain. Silas ignored his whimpered apologies and pleas not to hurt him as he looked over the starved, naked body. Very little skin was free from bruises, cuts, burns, welts, and whip lashes. Knowing Boy wouldn't understand anything he said, he backed out silently and shut the cupboard door to let him rest in peace.
There was only one more door. It was something you'd find in a castle; made of thick gray stone with black iron bands. Silas pulled the door opened. The room inside was dark, shadows clung to everything. But, at the very back, he could just make out the form of a lily-white man laying vertical at about waist height. All Silas could see were the man's white hands, which had vicious black claws, that lay folded on what Silas guessed was the man's chest, and the man's white cadaverous face.
Not even the man's lips or cheeks or eyelids had color. It took Silas a moment to realize that it was the man's black as night hair that spilled to the floor in a puddle of liquid darkness that was shimmering in the light from the doorway. Had the man been standing, Silas was his hair would reach his feet. The man didn't stir, didn't breathe. He lay as still as a corpse. Silas shut the door without ever going in.
xXxXxXx
As Harry began the school term, made his first friends, and met the teachers, he didn't notice that he was learning much slower than he was use to in muggle school, didn't notice that he wasn't cynical or bitter or cunning anymore. He definitely wasn't aware of Silas learning behind his eyes; plotting, planning, watching. Didn't know that Silas took over at night when Harry thought he was sleeping to sneak stealthily to the library to study more, or that the Slytherin's bookshelf in Silas' soul room was rapidly filling and expanding.
It was Silas who kept a watch on the others and noticed that though the corpse-like man and Boy were undisturbed by the long time without coming Out, Rose was not adapting as well. He began to hear her sleeping fitfully. So every other week, once Harry fell asleep, he crept from the dormitory and out to the green houses. There he slid back and let Rose come Out to gleefully tend to the plants under the light of the moon.
No one noticed Harry's strange behavior. Not even he was aware of his lapses since Silas carefully made sure that they only came Out while their Host slept and got him back into bed before he needed to wake. Harry was truly happy at school despite Professor Snape (who Silas found rather funny, but disapproved of the man's dark wit when it was being aimed at his Harry) and Quidditch.
At first, Harry was shocked and embarrassed to be on the team. But Ron's enthusiasm and his own quickly growing love of flying soon made him just as excited about playing. And he was even having fun trying to figure out the mystery of the vault and the three headed dog with Ron and eventually Hermione. (Silas was ever grateful to the brunette. He was heartily sick of the annoying redhead. Hermione wasn't perfect, but at least she was intelligent.)
Of course things couldn't stay wonderful forever. In February, after being caught out of bed after handing the illegal dragon to Charlie Weasley, Harry, Ron, and Draco were given a detention with Hagrid. Harry was not too disappointed. He like Hagrid and the Forbidden Forest wasn't so scary. At least, that's what he thought.
Everything changed after he came face to face with Voldemort. Seeing the dead unicorn made him realize that he wasn't in the middle of a game. This was real and serious. What if Snape really was after the Stone? What if he was working together with the Dark Lord? Why else was Voldemort near Hogwarts just when a stone that granted immortality was in residence? Harry knew Voldemort was waiting; waiting for his follower to bring the Stone to him. It was definitely not fun anymore.
Silas had been indifferent to the mystery his Host had been playing with, but he knew that they now needed to find out as much as they could about Voldemort and the Stone. If Voldemort ever came back into power, the first one on his hit list would most likely be them. And though Snape was a suspect, Silas really didn't think Harry was looking in the right direction. It just didn't feel right. And he wasn't just saying that because the man occasionally amused him.
He tried to help, giving Harry hunches and such, but the boy really was stubborn. He even tried to ease Harry's growing anxiety that Voldemort would come crashing into the school at any second to off him. But nothing was working. Rose became restless faster and Boy could sometimes be heard crying loudly within the cupboard. Silas was grim. Something had to give. And it did, but not in a way that even he expected.
xXxXxXx
It was nearing the end of May and Harry's exams were finally over. But Harry was as tense as ever. When he finally figured out what was bugging him, he ran to Hagrid's. To everyone's horror, they realized that Hagrid had given the betrayer the key to Fluffy. Ron and Hermione raced with him to tell a teacher, to get help.
Unbelievably, they were informed that Dumbledore was gone. So they told their Head of House. Harry could hardly believe McGonagall didn't see the same threat he did and almost fainted with shock when she brushed them off as unimportant. She was going to ignore the threat!
If no one else would, he had to protect the Stone. Even if that meant getting to it first and stopping Voldemort before it was too late. But he couldn't! He was just a kid! How could he expect himself to protect anything? Shaking, trembling, he was torn with his desire to protect the stone and his certainty of not being good enough to do anything.
xXxXxXx
Silas sighed in relief as the tension snapped and walked into the sitting room to check on the others. He was shocked to see Harry curled up on the couch, deeply asleep. He would have heard Rose or Boy leaving, so he knew it wasn't them. He looked around and stared at the new wide open door. It was solid oak. He strode over and looked inside. There was no one there, but Silas knew just by looking at the room who the new person was.
The room had a tall four poster bed with red sheets. A dueling platform with a dummy stood to the corner of the room along with a small bookshelf holding every book they knew on Defense Against the Dark Arts. Silas sighed with exasperation and went back to sit by the younger teen. His light eyes rested on Harry's face.
"You just released your Gryffindor into battle, didn't you?" He asked the small boy and sighed. "We are going to die."
xXxXxXx
The newest personality led the other two Gryffindors down the trapdoor. He used their strengths, leading them carefully. He was confident and on fire with excitement. There was no way he couldn't get to the end of this puzzle and save the Stone. With a smile of anticipation, he stepped on the chess board and followed Ron's instructions, trusting in him.
It was hard, but he made the right decision to leave Ron behind. Hermione followed him. After the puzzle was solved, he knew he couldn't risk her getting hurt. He had to protect her and this last door was far too dangerous for her to cross. Gently, he explained that she had to go back to Ron and get help. He'd go on alone.
Drinking the potion, he strode forward through the fire and entered the chamber holding the Stone. He was shocked to find the weak, stuttering Professor. Although, to give him some credit, Quirrell wasn't stuttering or weak now. He kept the man talking as he maneuvered himself slowly into the room and toward the center, where he was sure the Stone was. Quirrell eventually noticed and tied him up in magical rope.
But he wasn't discouraged. He carefully worked his wand around to the back of him and began whispering the counter spell while he kept the stupid bastard talking. Looks like he'd owe Snape an apology since he had thought it was him and all. Eventually, as Quirrell muttered over the Mirror of Erised, the ropes came undone. He maneuvered closer to the mirror, hoping to get a peek. Maybe he could use it to see where the Stone was since that was what he wanted more than anything.
"Use the boy… use him…" A voice hissed.
"Come here, Potter!" Quirrell snapped, not even caring that he wasn't tied up anymore.
Since it was his goal to look in the mirror anyway, he stepped forward and in front of the glass. Quirrell stood at his side, demanding to know what he was seeing. He saw himself holding the Stone and with a wink putting it in his front pocket. But as he was concentrating on this, he was spouting off some stuff about Quidditch captain or something. He almost grinned as he felt the weight of the Stone in his pocket for real.
Quirrell threw him away from the mirror, frustrated. He let himself be tossed aside and began creeping back toward the exit as the stupid Professor wailed over the puzzle of the mirror. But that hissing voice spoke just as he was almost free, "The boy lies. Let me speak to him."
He stood, glaring defiantly as Quirrell unwrapped his turban and revealed the face of Voldemort on the back of his naked skull. Red eyes burned at him, pushed at him to feel terror, but he didn't. He wasn't capable of fear. Instead, he smiled cockily and said, "Not too pretty, are you?"
The face smiled, but it was an expression of rage and hatred. "You see what I've become then, Harry Potter? I'm a shade, forced to possess lowly servants to survive. But no more. Not once you give me the Stone that lies in your pocket."
"I don't think so." He grinned and began stepping backward toward the exit, never taking his eyes off the foul creature before him.
"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me or you'll meet the same end as your parents. They died begging me for mercy."
"LIAR!" He spat, beginning to get very angry.
Quirrell was walking backward to stop him from putting distance between them. "How touching." Voldemort hissed. "I always value bravery. Yes, boy, your parents were brave. I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight, but your mother needn't have died. She could have walked away, but chose instead to die to protect you. Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."
"NEVER!" He yelled back furiously. How dare their murderer talk of them, he thought as he threw a Stupefy toward the bastard.
Quirrell dodged and began firing back. But the new Harry was nimble and dodged them all easily. Two of his curses almost hit the bastard, but then Quirrell's spells got more powerful. The Gryffindor was sweating as he maneuvered. It was time to make a break for it. He carefully tried to get closer to the door and, in that second of distraction, Quirrell was able to get his wand. He dodged two more spells, but Quirrell hit him with a Petrificus Totalus.
"Now you will give me the Stone." Voldemort said triumphant and Quirrell's hand reached for him. He was helpless. He didn't know how to cope with being helpless and began to retreat.
xXxXxXx
Silas, of course, had seen this coming, but it was too late to back out now. Running wasn't an option. Voldemort couldn't get the Stone or their lives would be in danger. Especially because the new kid was spouting off. Boy had no magic except for healing, and he didn't even do that on purpose. Rose couldn't do magic either. Her only talent was Empathy. Harry couldn't handle the situation, and even if he could, he didn't know more than the new kid.
That left him, and though he knew a lot, probably more than the new brat, he didn't think he could get them out of this. Not with Voldemort literally breathing in their face. Decided, he ran to the heavy stone and iron door and threw it open. The corpse man lay still as death, the shadows writhed around him with dark power.
"Wake up." Silas said grimly. "You're needed."
Eyes opened. There was no iris or pupil. They were like clear glass windows into Hell, red fire burning within them. He sat up, then stood slowly. The long liquid black hair rippled like heat waves and a hungry smile twisted the man-of-death's lips before he disappeared, pushing Out. Silas shuddered.
xXxXxXx
Harry's emerald eyes widened and green fire seemed to burn behind them as the new personality took over. Magic surged through his small body and pure unfiltered rage twisted his face as he screamed and drove his hand forward. The blow struck Quirrell on the chest and the man screamed as the clothes and skin began to slowly disintegrate beneath the boy's touch.
The Professor fell back, Voldemort screaming for him to grab the Stone. The boy stood loosely and slashed out with his hand. Black hungry magic followed the gesture and Quirrell fell screaming as more of his body was eaten by death. The boy's demonic smile widened even as the anger in his eyes burned hotter. Three more swipes and Quirrell was on the ground, no longer able to scream. The boy lifted his arms and screamed. Power lashing wildly, now without a target.
Quirrell's body crumbled into ash. The dark shade of Voldemort fled. It took all his power to do so. The boy behind him was like a vacuum, trying to suck him in. But he managed to escape. The mirror shattered, the walls cracked, the floor shook. And still he wasn't satisfied. He wanted to destroy it all. The ceiling began to crumble, but before the debris could hit the floor it was shattering and dissolving into nothing.
xXxXxXx
"We have to get him up! He's the Host! He'll immediately go Out if we wake him!" Silas yelled over to the new teen. The room was quaking under the surge of power being drained from the soul they all shared. They had to act fast or they'd die. Either from magical exhaustion or from the castle collapsing on their heads.
"Hay! Wake up!" The Gryffindor yelled into Harry's ear while shaking him. Silas slapped at smaller boy's cheeks hard enough to sting the skin. Rose came tumbling fearfully from her room. She looked at them wildly and gestured around them. Silas shook his head and gestured to Harry and then pointed up. She nodded and began shaking him too. Boy began screaming hysterically from the cupboard. All of them together were enough to force Harry awake.
The boy disappeared and they heard (except for Rose) the forbidding stone door slam shut. Silence descended on the room. Rose swayed tiredly and Silas walked her to her bed, laying her down so she could go back to sleep. By the time he returned to the sitting room, Boy's crying was getting softer. He sighed and sat tiredly across from the new teen. The Gryffindor looked to be the same age as him. He had bright blue eyes and wild auburn hair. He was tall and muscular, but not bulky.
Silas sneered, "Well, whoever you are, you nearly got us killed."
"I'm Gabriel. And it worked out alright." He said haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest. "What did you expect me to do? And who are you anyway?"
"I am Silas. What you should have done was go to Professor Snape with your suspicions! Not charged in there with those brats! We could have been killed!"
"Snape was a suspect! I couldn't go to him, and those 'brats' held their own! More than you could do!"
"Oh, shut up." Silas glared and stalked into his room.
Gabriel glared at his door for a moment before stomping into his own.
xXxXxXx
Harry woke slowly. It came as a huge surprise to find himself in the infirmary with Headmaster Dumbledore sitting beside him. Late morning light flooded the windows. He thought back. The last thing he remembered was being refused by McGonagall. Dumbledore saw his confusion and laughed.
"Sir… What happened?"
"Not to worry, Harry. Quirrell doesn't have the Stone." The ancient wizard assured him. Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he stayed quiet. Dumbledore went on complimenting him, Ron, and Hermione on their success past each one of the teacher's defenses. He gave enough details for Harry to vaguely understand what each obstacle had been. "I think the last was rather brilliant. One of my better ideas."
Harry stared into the pleased twinkling eyes and frowned, "I don't understand."
"I used the Mirror of Erised." He explained. "Only someone who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it could get it."
Harry nodded absently, suddenly he felt lightheaded. Dumbledore's eyes sharpened as Harry's head tilted forward as if he were about to faint, but then he was sitting up again and holding his head gingerly. "Sorry, Sir." Silas said meekly, trying to act like Harry. "I have a bit of a headache."
And it was true. It was impossible for him or any of the others to force themselves Out. Only Harry voluntarily retreating allowed them Out, but Silas' need was great and gave him strength. Even so, had Harry not been so confused, disorientated, and uncomfortable under Dumbledore's gaze, he wouldn't have been able to do it.
"That is to be expected." Dumbledore smiled, relaxing. "You've been through a grave ordeal."
"How long was I asleep?"
"Three days. All these tokens around you are from your friends. They will be most pleased to see you again."
"But what about the Stone?"
"Ah, the Stone. I must apologize to you, Harry. I should never have left. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time too."
Silas let that slide, though he felt a sneer trying to twist his lips. Damn manipulative bastard. Silas bet the old man had done it on purpose to test them, had risked their lives to see how they would fair against Voldemort. He quickly changed the subject. "So you have the Stone?" He tried to sound glad.
"It was decided that it would be best to destroy the Stone. So that it could never be used for the purpose it had almost been put to. Had you not been there, of course."
Silas smiled tightly, "I have a question."
"I shall answer your questions, unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
There's no of course about it, Silas thought, but asked anyway. "Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"
Dumbledore sighed very deeply, "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day… put it from you mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… When you are ready, you will know."
Okay. Silas definitely hated this man. Without a doubt. He had only one more thing he wanted to do. "Sir. About Professor Snape… I must admit I had thought it was him." And he faded back.
Harry came awake hearing, "Ah… Professor Snape. I believe you felt it was he who was cursing your broom during that one Quidditch game, yes? In truth, it was Quirrell, as you realize I'm sure. Professor Snape was trying to save you by saying the counter curse. And he had been suspicious of Quirrell all along. That was why your Professor kept such a close eye on him. I give you my word, Harry. I trust Professor Snape implicitly. Never doubt him."
"Oh… ummm… I'm sorry, sir." Harry tried. He realized he must have blacked out for a bit. He was feeling tired.
"And for me, I beg you to forgive his harsh attitude. It stems from the feelings of dislike between him and your father, James. Not very much unlike how you and Mr. Malfoy feel for one another. There were always hurtful pranks and insults between them. Then one day your father did something Severus could never forgive."
"What?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.
"James saved his life." Dumbledore smiled as Harry blinked in surprise. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt… I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace."
Harry tried to understand this, but it made his head pound so he stopped. Dumbledore left soon after that. Thankfully, most of Harry's questions were later answered by Ron and Hermione. They told him all about their adventure. Hermione told him not to fret about the memory loss (though they were both a little disappointed not to know what happened in the chamber with the Stone). It was no surprise really considering the trauma he went through. She said that Madam Pomfrey told them he had suffered severe magical drain from his confrontation with Quirrell. And it was from her that he learned of the Stone's destruction and Nicolas' upcoming and accepted death.
Overall, he wasn't too disappointed he couldn't remember. What he remembered of Voldemort from their confrontation in the woods was plenty for him. He slept deeply that night and on into the middle of the next day. When he woke up, he was feeling much better and talked Madam Pomfrey into letting him go to the leaving feast.
He was glad he did even though he did blush hotly under all the cheers when the Slytherin banners turned into Gryffindor red and gold after Dumbledore handed out the year's last points. In fact, surrounded by cheering friends (the first he had ever had), it was the best night of his life. It was better than winning at Quidditch or Christmas, and he would never forget that moment.
End Year One.
A/N: Next chapter will cover Harry's second year at Hogwarts.
A/N: Just head off the confusion. When other personalities are Out, Harry's body doesn't physically change at all. The way the other personalities are described physically in the soul room in this chapter is just how they perceive themselves.