Hermione Granger had never been one for friends.

In primary school, she'd been isolated. Her books kept her company. Her mum and dad were always prodding her to go and talk to people, trying to arrange play dates all the time, but they were awkward and nearly silent. She would end up bursting out with odd tidbits of information gleaned from her newest pile of library books, and that would usually be that. Oh, she had a few friends, carefully acquired from the scant handful of others who liked learning as much as she did. But until Hogwarts, Hermione had always been more than content to spend life tucked away in a library or a classroom, learning as much as she could, and always by herself. When she'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw, she'd almost been assured the trend would continue.

And then Harry Potter had come along while she was sniffling into a library book, and that assurance shattered.

She'd never had a friend like that before. A friend who challenged her. Harry was smart. He could have passed for a Ravenclaw at times. But it was more than that. None of her primary school friends would have sat there and hugged her while she cried and given her their own handkerchief when hers was soggy and joked about what could be done with Weasley or the other Gryffindor bullies who tended to plague her because she was smart and liked giving the answers. None of her primary school friends would have cajoled her into eating proper meals because they cared, or actually helped her with her homework, because they would have assumed she already knew the answers, and never realized that sometimes, Hermione hadn't the faintest.

Until Harry came along, Hermione had never had a friend, and she didn't take that lightly. When Harry had been attacked in the corridor and stuck in the hospital wing for days, Hermione had cried herself to sleep every night until he was safe in the Slytherin dormitory. She'd also visited him every day, although she didn't always stick around until he was awake. She felt too embarrassed.

But regardless of transient feelings of embarrassment, Hermione had a fierce loyalty toward her first real friend and that is why, the morning after Halloween, she resolved to find out what was wrong with him at all costs.

Because something had to be wrong.

He was too...different. His voice, his eyes, his mannerisms, they would all change in the blink of an eye. And they were subtle changes, was the thing. Hermione had pushed them away for ages, convinced that they could be merely chalked up to the differences inherent in an eleven-year-old's growing up process. But then last night happened.

The way he'd taken charge like that, leading the troll down the hallway, then barking out orders about the barricade-he'd been a Harry Hermione had never known. Almost like a bloody Gryffindor, to be honest, dashing about like that, never caring what might happen next. But then, he'd changed utterly. His face had looked cold, remote. The anger on it had cooled, solidifying into a sheer, icy sort of rage that made Hermione quiver in her shoes. And Stunning the troll? Harry might be damned good at Defense, but he wasn't that good. Both he and Hermione had already studied the theory, but they weren't up to practising it yet, even if they could finagle a professor into assisting them. ...Again.

But if Harry hadn't learnt Stupefy with her, where had he learned it? A prickle of hurt lined her throat at the thought of him going off and learning spells without her. That wasn't what friends did, was it? Not proper friends at any rate. Blaise wouldn't do that to Harry. Or Theo. She didn't know either of them very well yet, but she knew that. Did that mean he didn't want to be her friend anymore?

He'd been friendly enough at breakfast, though. Giving her an enthusiastic wave and a beaming smile, wriggling about on the bench like a half-mad eel. That didn't seem to be the actions of someone who didn't want to be friends. No, there had to be something wrong with him, and Hermione was determined to find out what it was. With that in mind, she headed straight to the library. The other day, she was sure she'd seen a muggle Psychology section. Perhaps that would be a good place to start. One way or the other, she was going to figure out what was going on with Harry Potter and help him if it killed her.

The library had precious little on Muggle Psychology, and most of it had to do with mood disorders or ADHD. Still, there were a few books on more than simple mood disturbances, and it was on these that Hermione focused most of her time. Schizophrenia? But Harry didn't seem psychotic. He didn't hear voices or see things, did he? He'd never mentioned anything of the sort to her at least. OCD was right out, that sounded nothing like Harry.

It was only a footnote, really, that Hermione spotted and that was more a bit of luck than anything else, as her patience was growing thin, and she'd been skimming the last few chapters. Just a footnote on the bottom of the page.

A footnote about a mental condition known as Dissociative Identity Disorder.