Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and nobody pays me to write this.

Me and Him and Them

"We need to start thinking long term, Harry."

I glanced over at Him and wondered how long he'd been there. "Long term?" I questioned.

"Yes," he nodded gravely. "I promise you that they are thinking long term."

"About what?" I wondered.

"About you. The students will be back soon. You can't stay here at Hogwarts if you might be a danger to the students. They've mentioned the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's."

I blinked as I considered that. "I am crazy then."

"Yeah. Honestly though, I think we've always been crazy. We're just a bit less functional now, so they're paying attention."

"Everyone always pays attention to me."

"No," He corrected with a grimace. "They stare. They gossip. They make up stories that they find entertaining. No one's ever really seen us." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "The Dursleys saw a monster representing everything they hated in the world. The Magical community sees an icon representing everything 'right' in the world. Or they see a celebrity, there for their amusement, and they treat us like a toy and discard us just as easily. A few of them look at us and see our parents. No one sees us."

"You're me," I realized. So I was definitely crazy, then.

"No," He corrected. "You're You. I'm Me. Together, we're Him."

"Oh." That did make more sense. It would have been really weird were there two of me. "Am I the crazy part of Him then?"

"You're the part that makes friends. You're the part that's still brave enough to care."

"Then what part are you?" I wondered.

An empty smile turned his lips. "I'm the part that forgot how to feel."

"Are there other parts?"

"He's broken. There're a lot of pieces."

"If we find them all… can we put Him back together?" I asked hopefully.

The other part shrugged, "If we don't, I don't see how we'll defeat Voldemort."

"Potter," the cool drawn drew my attention to the other side of my bed.

I looked up at the tall, familiar man. "You haven't seen any of them, have you?" I asked hopefully.

"It's time to take your potion," he replied quietly, and now I knew why he was so familiar. He was the potion man. He always gave me the potions that made me sleep.

"Putting us to sleep isn't helping anything."

I clapped both palms over my mouth when I heard His words come out of my mouth and I spun to look at him, my eyes wide. "I didn't know you could do that!"

"Why wouldn't I be able to? It's my mouth as well," he shrugged.

I blinked, then slowly lowered my hands as I nodded. Silly of me, really, to not think of that myself.

"You can't send us to St. Mungo's," my mouth said. I frowned curiously at the statement and glanced up at the potion man.

"Why not?" he asked.

My eyes widened when I realized he was talking to me and I quickly pointed at the culprit. "Hey, he said it, not me! Well, I mean… he used my lips, but I didn't."

The potion man just stared at me.

"No strangers," my lips whispered. "Can't trust them. They're not like us. They don't see us. We'll break them like they broke us."

My lips curled distastefully as soon as I could control them again. Nothing against Him, but he was a bit creepy, especially because he said all of that in a perfectly calm monotone. "I'm not going to break anybody," I defended myself. "But I can't speak for him."

The potion man ran a hand over his face, then waved his pretty stick and I belched loudly.

"Oh, excuse me," I muttered.

"Go to sleep, Potter," the potion man sighed.

He grumbled something, but I didn't pay enough attention to hear what it was. I was tired and this bed was really comfortable.