Disclaimer: Though it would help pay for my tuition if I owned the rights to Harry Potter, alas, I am but a poor college student and all I own are my copies of the books (and, as I'm sure you've guessed by now, lots of volumes of poetry).

so many selves(so many fiends and gods

so many selves(so many fiends and gods
each greedier than every)is a man
(so easily one in another hides;
yet man can,being all,escape from none)

so huge a tumult is the simplest wish:
so pitiless a massacre the hope
most innocent(so deep's the mind of flesh
and so awake what waking calls sleep)

so never is most lonely man alone
(his briefest breathing lives some planet's year,
his longest life's a heartbeat of some sun;
his least unmotion roams the youngest star)

--how should a fool that calls him "I" presume
to comprehend not numerable whom?

-e.e. cummings

The Atrocity of Sunsets
Part IV

Some time later, in the Room of Requirement, Eric looked upon his canvas with a sigh. This latest painting of his looked like it would be a proud accomplishment; the lines were smooth and graceful, and the myriad of colors on the canvas added to this grace with their constant transition, but at the same time suggested a muted, controlled chaos. Yes, when it was finished, Eric was going to be satisfied, but at the current time, his sojourn to what Dobby called 'The Come-And-Go Room' was leaving him completely unfulfilled.

After he had agreed with Snape's proposal, they had talked a bit more about making arrangements— though they didn't really get far, as the Potion's Master was adamant in speaking to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin before making any concrete plans—and then, reminding him snidely that this was, in fact, a detention, Eric was put to work scrubbing cauldrons for two-and a half hours. When the detention was finally over, he had made his escape and headed directly to the Room of Requirement, in order to see if his anxiety could be quelled by working on his latest piece.

Unfortunately, it was now apparent that Eric's hope was in vain. He'd been steadfastly working on this painting for forty-five minutes, and he still felt apprehensive in the aftermath of the meeting with Snape. Upon their return to Hogwarts, everyone agreed that Harry needed helping. However, it had taken quite a long time to agree on whom was reliable and intelligent enough to help them, and they had finally made their decision last week. But with Snape's suggestion… even Daniel, who had the most trust in the Head of Slytherin, had taken a bit of convincing to open up to it. And now, it was up to Eric to tell everyone else about the plan.

Eric himself was cautiously optimistic about what would come from informing three more people of their situation. Snape had stated Harry trusted them more, and not only was this true, but the three people that had been suggested were almost universally trusted by the others. Overall, Eric felt it was a good step; they would be good support, and sympathetic… and there would be less of a risk of others stumbling across their secret with four Order members guarding it. And though he very much trusted his own thoughts on the matter, being as he was the most knowledgeable about Harry's life, and how all the others came to be here, he really was not looking forward to sharing these thoughts with everyone else.

And there was no doubt that Daniel, the git, was probably going to be smirking the whole time.

As his painting and supplies would be unmoved the next time he visited the Room of Requirement to paint, Eric didn't bother setting aside his easel. However, he did hurriedly slam lids on containers of paint he'd been using, resulting in a small splatter of blue paint on his shirt that Eric didn't notice and that Harry would later assume came from his detention.

Albus Dumbledore stared at Severus Snape with a carefully placed neutral expression on his face. When the volatile Potions Master strode into his office, with a very determined air about him, the Headmaster had not expected him to calmly request a meeting with himself, Minerva, and Remus Lupin.

"May I ask, Severus, what the subject of this meeting will be?"

There was very little change in Severus' expression, except for a very slight augmentation of his omnipresent sneer. Over the years, Albus had learned to interpret this as a sign of nervousness in the spy. Though he made sure to make no sign of it to the man before him—Severus never liked how easily the Headmaster could read him—Albus was growing concerned.

After a few moments, the Potions Master finally replied, "I believe it would be best if I withheld the subject until we discuss it. It will keep you from worrying over it, and it will be easier if I only have to make the explanation once."

"Very well," Albus replied after a beat. "I will arrange the meeting for tomorrow at eleven o' clock."

Severus thanked him and left the office, leaving Albus to his thoughts. The very fact that the Slytherin professor avoided disclosing the theme of the matter in order to keep him from worrying set off warning bells in the Headmaster's mind. The insistence upon Remus Lupin's presence also puzzled him; Severus was usually openly antagonistic towards the werewolf, working with him only when he was forced to by Albus' command. On the whole, the spy's request was mystifying and worrying.

Fawkes gave a concerned warble from his perch, and Albus rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I don't know, my old friend. We shall have to wait and see."

SMASH!

Really, Eric knew that some of the others—and Tristan in particular—would definitely not be happy with the new development. But even as he knew that, he for some reason hadn't actually thought over what the volatile alter's reaction would be. Luckily, Eric had waited until the rest of Gryffindor had gone to sleep to apprise the others of the situation, and so was able to quickly secret the other down to the Room of Requirement without undo notice.

That was where they were now. Eric watched as Tristan mercilessly destroyed all the fragile objects that appeared in the room as he walked in. Many of the objects looked like the instruments Dumbledore kept in his office; Eric didn't think this was a coincidence. Tristan had a very short list of people he wasn't angry with, and the Headmaster most assuredly wasn't on it.

It had been going on like this for at least twenty minutes. Tristan had started out with angry exclamations accompanying his rampage, shouts about "manipulative bastard Headmasters" and"sadistic interfering death eaters" among many others, but eventually he devolved into simply screaming in rage as he destroyed everything in his line of sight.

There was a last crash as Tristan forcefully threw a mirror against the wall, causing it to shatter violently. For the first time since he entered the room, he paused, staring at the broken glass as if mesmerized. After a few moments, he strode purposefully over to the broken mirror and picked up a shard, turning it in his hands.

Eric sadly looked on as Tristan, apparently feeling the need to turn his violence and frustration on himself, began making shallow cuts on his left forearm. Tristan was only allowed to do so for about two minutes, however, as Eric managed to put a stop to the cutting by forcing himself out. Immediately, he asked the room to take away all the destroyed objects, and then took out his wand to heal the cuts, using a spell he'd picked up from Madam Pomfrey during one of the instances where Harry was ensconced in the hospital wing.

The cuts healed quickly and left no scars, which Eric was grateful for. It would not be good if anyone saw strange scars on Harry's arm, least of all Harry himself.

That done, Eric wasted no time in returning to Gryffindor Tower; if he was lucky, they might be able to get in a good six hours of sleep tonight.

Minerva McGonagall wasn't quite sure what to expect when Albus had told her that Severus had requested a meeting with the two of them and, of all people, Remus Lupin. Perhaps it is Order business, she thought, that is too crucial to be shared with the entirety of the Order. But whatever she had expected, it was nowhere close to this.

Evidently, Harry had approached the Potions Master to draft his help in dealing with a rather serious mental disorder.

"When Potter first approached me, I was skeptical. As you well know, there is no love lost between us, and I thought what he told me was some kind of prank—"

The Transfiguration professor frowned slightly at this. Despite her suspicion of Harry's involvement in the recent shampoo prank, he'd never really been much of a prankster. But of course that wouldn't stop Severus from suspecting the boy; he never had learned to differentiate Harry from his father.

In the back of her mind, Minerva knew that the only reason she was focusing on that thought was to distract and distance herself from the rest of what her colleague was saying.

"—but then I took it upon myself to do research of my own, to see if his claims of alternate personalities had any validity." He paused very briefly, and then continued on in an odd tone of voice. "Suffice to say, there is precedent. That, combined with the two… alters I met, give me reason to believe that Potter has Dissociative Identity Disorder."

"You're sure, Severus?" Albus asked, any hint of a twinkle gone from his eyes.

Minerva glanced at Remus, whom was sitting beside her. He seemed to be struck mute by what Severus had disclosed, and a breath away from breaking apart.

"As sure as is possible, at this point. Each alter had distinct mannerisms and ways of speaking, which I was able to notice in the brief time I spoke with them. Potter is not that good an actor."

"How long do you suppose he's…" Minerva trailed off, not quite sure how to finish her question.

Regardless, Severus knew what she was asking. "I do not know. From what I've been able to glean, however, it is not a recent development."

There was silence in the office as the occupants let this information sink in, as well as its implications.

"What can we do to help?" whispered Remus, eyes staring hard at a point on the Headmaster's desk.

"Assist me in Potter's healing process. Initially, I was the only person involved, but I convinced one of his alters that it would be beneficial if you three were involved as well."

"I believe I speak for all of us," Albus said solemnly, "when I say I will do all I can to help Harry."

Minerva nodded her agreement, but couldn't bring herself to respond in any other way. She was still in too deep a shock from the conversation. Harry Potter had some kind of mental disorder, which Severus had informed them at the outset of the meeting, apparently stemmed from deep-seated trauma. If she had missed this in one of her most conspicuous students, she wondered just how many similar cases she might have overlooked in others.

Regardless, the Transfiguration professor was determined to right this wrong and give all she could to help Harry recover.

Thoroughly shaken, Remus was only half-aware of his surroundings as he walked away from Dumbledore's office and out of Hogwarts. It took all his energy to keep his emotions at bay, so as to not break down before he reached the borders of the school so he could apparate back to Grimmauld Place. As it was, there seemed to be a heavy fog surrounding him, temporarily numbing him, but still filling him with a deep sense of shame and sadness.

He felt the tingle of wards as passed out of the boundaries of the school, and immediately apparated into his bedroom.

As soon as he felt the hard wood under his feet, he let the fog in his mind dissipate, and he immediately sank onto his bed, holding his face in his hands.

How could something like that happen to Harry? How could he let something like that happen to Harry? He had failed Lily and James. He had failed Harry.

It made no difference to him at that moment that there was probably nothing he could have done to prevent Harry's situation, that he was never able to take Harry in when he was still a child because of ministry legislation forbidding a werewolf from raising children. Neither did it matter that apparently everyone had been fooled into thinking there was nothing wrong with the black-haired adolescent; the mistakes of others did not justify his own.

All that mattered was that he himself had not noticed anything amiss, and he hadn't taken action to prevent the trauma that apparently caused the disorder affecting Harry.

He let thoughts of sorrow and self-recrimination overtake him for a few minutes while his body shook with the weight of his emotions. Eventually, though, he began to collect himself, and reassembled a calm outward appearance. Remus was far from all right, and the same thoughts of shame raced under his constructed façade, but he would get through this. He would be strong for Harry, ensuring that he made it through whatever trials were to come in the healing process that Severus spoke of.

Remus knew that, despite his thoughts at the moment, he would survive this, as he seemed to keep on surviving his entire life. And he'd do his damnedest to ensure that Harry survived as well.

Oblivious to the distress of the four adults, Harry Potter slept peacefully through the night.
Author Notes:

I'm SO sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out—writers block is evil, and school work (especially poetry explications) sucked up the rest of my time... and even now, I'm not completely satisfied with it. I really will try to get the next chapter out much sooner.

I'm also sorry this chapter is so short, but really, all that I had planned for this chapter is included, so… shrugs

Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter!