Everyone else is studying or watching a game of Wizard Chess between two fifth years. Harrison has already completed most of their homework, and Harry has no interest in Wizard Chess. He's sitting on the rug near the fire and trying to convince himself not to retreat upstairs. Every so often, one of his classmates will shoot him a look before quickly going back to what they were doing before. No one brings up yesterday, and Harry is glad. He notices that the other Quidditch players, when he sees them, won't meet his eyes. They don't seem angry at him anymore, though, and for that, he's glad. He wonders if they believe the rumors flying around. Apparently, some of the children are convinced that Madam Pomfrey found some sort of bogus problem so that Dumbledore could take the opportunity to chew out Harry for being in Slytherin. Draco, in particular, is unafraid to vocally claim that Dumbledore called Harry a disgrace to the Potter name. Harry didn't miss that some of the responses hoped that was true; it turns out that the pure bloods aren't fond of the Potters.

Harry doesn't plan on correcting anyone. Until someone asks him point blank what happened, he will say nothing, and if they do ask, he'll probably lie. He doesn't need to explain himself to any of these people. Really, who would even believe it? Who would believe that the boy who defeated Voldemort was destroyed by his muggle relatives? Who would believe that the Boy Who Lived couldn't survive the muggle world without his mind shattering? Harry doubts that wizards would even understand Multiple Personality Disorder. They're far behind regular people when it comes to technology, and it's not like even most normal people have heard of it to begin with. Harry would never have known about it, either, if Harrison hadn't found a book on it when he was spending yet another lunch in the library.

Harry can still remember the doubt he felt upon reading about the disorder. It was apparently hotly debated with psychologists, something that no one could seem to agree on. The main problem was that some people thought that therapists were just encouraging false memories of abuse so that they could make more money off of their distraught patients. Harry, who had never been in therapy, found that incredibly silly. He'd still been worried. While he knew well that he was being abused, the abuse was the only thing he forgot. He didn't lose time, not really. That had torn him up for years, much as it annoyed his other alters. And now, Dumbledore was saying the same thing. Harry didn't lose time, so it wasn't real MPD, was it?

Stop being so stupid, Potter mutters. What else could it be? Do you think you're possessed by something? His voice turns mocking. You better not tell me we're the Dark Lord back to haunt you.

Despite himself, Harry laughs. A second year girl shoots him a look, and he smiles apologetically. The nagging idea doesn't leave his head, though, and Potter leaves in frustration. Harry gets up to return to his room when he notices that Draco has drifted away from the crowd. "Potter," he nods, and Harry nods in return. Draco follows him up to his room, and Harry wonders what he wants. He's not going to ask about last night, is he?

No. Draco strikes up a conversation about Quidditch, and when Harry doesn't react negatively, seems content to tell Harry all about his favorite teams. Harry contents himself with listening and soaking in the information. He feels Snake move up behind him and mentally steps back. To his surprise, after Snake adjusts to the situation, he actually begins contributing to the conversation. Harry watches as the two Slytherins grow more comfortable talking and the subject grows beyond just Quidditch teams. Unexpectedly, Harry feels a stab of jealousy.

Why can't I do that with anyone? Why is there nothing that I can do better than my alters? Why am I even here, if they're so much better than me at everything? Snake doesn't seem inclined to reply, for which Harry is thankful. Potter would be inclined to put up a fight, and who knows how James would react. None of his alters would be happy about the idea of him leaving. Of course they wouldn't; they're his alters. Aren't they?

Cores aren't supposed to be host. That's what all the books on MPD said. Cores are hidden in the back of the mind, and the system always obeys them. Who's to say that Harry isn't just a hollow replacement, just a conduit for the other alters to act through? The books said that people with MPD are supposed to black out, though. So he's not doing MPD right either way. A freak, even compared to others with the same problem.

"Are you alright?" Draco asks. He's not talking to Harry, of course. Snake had frozen up mid-speech. He's fine now, and the two are chatting again, but shame blankets Harry. There he goes again, screwing up his alters' lives. Some host he is.

Snake and Draco set off for dinner, still talking.

"Oh, Pansy!" Draco breaks off mid speech, "I need to talk to her for a moment." Draco dashes off, and Snake stares after him. Then he snorts and continues on to dinner by himself. He's not paying attention to where he's going. Before he can walk right into a suit of armor, someone grabs his arm.

"Distracted, I see?" Dumbledore asks with a smile. Snake jerks his arm back and glares. Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "I assume you're not Harry?" He whispers.

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" Snake sputters, face turning a bit purple. "Of course I'm Harry!" Honest confusion leaks to Harry, and Harry feels his stomach drop. Snake doesn't remember them…?

Dumbledore seems just as off put by the situation. "I see." His eyebrows draw together and he tries not to stare. "May I see you in my office, Harry?"

"I'm going to eat dinner," Snake refuses. Now Dumbledore is definitely caught off guard. Harry can feel his gaze on their back as they walk to the Great Hall. When Dumbledore enters a few minutes later, he won't stop glancing at them. Snake is sitting with Draco and Pansy, the three of them griping about McGonagall's obvious preference for Gryffindor's. A couple of upper classmen join in with their own stories, and though no one comments on it, Harry can tell that they're surprised that he's involved. But it isn't him, and he's once again rendered a bystander in his own life.

Dinner ends, and Snake is still the one fronting. Potter joins Harry as he always does in the evenings, but Snake acknowledges neither of them. What did you do? Potter asks, and Harry can only shake his head.

I think Dumbledore wants to see us again, he says quietly.

Potter's face screws up in anger. Interfering b-stard. They watch as Snake gets ready for bed without a touch of fear or the usual panicked rituals. Should we tell him about us?

Harry shakes his head. Why not allow a part of themselves to be normal? It doesn't seem to be hurting Snake any. They can handle Dumbledore tomorrow.

A/N:

Special thanks to Amethyst Violet Serenity for the review.

Narutard180: I'm glad you like it! That's one thing I've always wanted to see more of in MPD stories, alters having their own stories and lives. I guess I eventually just decided to write my own.

Ebony: I'm sorry to hear that you find them confusing. Most people with MPD do have at least 10-15 alters, but I can post a list of all of them, if it would help?

Lillielle: I'm evil, yes. You already knew this.

Also, for those who didn't know, Lillielle is writing a HP MPD story, as well. You should check it out! She's my motivation to stop being lazy and update already. :P