It was when Hermione was busy hustling out of the library, intent on actually making it to dinner on time for once, that she ran smack into Professor Snape, tumbling backward and smacking her head on the wall with a dull thump. Her vision swam and for a moment, it seemed like two stern-faced professors were leaning down to ensure that she was all right.

"Miss Granger?" the professor's voice broke through the fog that had infiltrated her senses as she felt her head gently tugged forward and his hand cup the back of her skull, checking for bumps and bruises. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured, slightly breathless. Her cheeks flushed brilliantly in embarassment. Even moreso when she realised her stack of library books had also tumbled around his feet. Including the books on muggle mental disorders. Great. Now her Potions professor was likely to think her barmy.

He said nothing, however, merely inclined his head in a way that told her to stay put for a moment, and gathered together her books for her, piling them in a neat stack and placing them on the floor next to her.

"You've a nasty bump on the back of your head, Miss Granger," Snape informed her. "I'd prefer you go to the Hospital Wing for it. Either before or after dinner, but before bed tonight. I'll inform your Head of House as well to keep an eye on you overnight. Concussions can be unpleasant things, and Madam Pomfrey cannot heal one in the snap of her fingers."

"Yes, sir," Hermione mumbled, struggling to her feet despite his squinted glare. He hesitated before standing as well.

"You don't need to answer, Miss Granger, you are not in trouble but I was curious-why so many Muggle psychology books? On mental disorders, no less?"

She bit her lip, indecisive. It's not like she knew, after all. She wasn't a psychologist. Or any kind of doctor at all! But he was Harry's Head of House. And she could tell sometimes that he cared about Harry, even if he didn't seem to want to admit it. He didn't like admitting he cared about any student, Hermione thought. And maybe he could help Harry when she couldn't. That thought more than anything else swayed her as she carefully plumped back down, pulling her robes tight around her knees.

"It's Harry, sir," she began softly, and it all came spilling out. The gestures, the vocal changes, the Stupefy! In particular, she kept coming back to Harry stunning the troll, Harry using a far-too-advanced-for-his-year defense spell. The way his personality changed in an instant. Her research, tentative and scanty though it was. The condition known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, or "multiple personalities."

"I don't know, sir, but I thought you should know," she finally finished, twisting her hands anxiously in her lap. She had almost entirely missed dinner now, and she knew Harry would be worried, but this was important. "I'm really worried about Harry and I don't want anything bad to happen to him, and if he does have that, that means his family might be the ones who hurt him, and..." Tears bubbled to the surface as she voiced the thing that concerned her above all others. If he did have this condition, this DID, how did he get it?

"Thank you for telling me your concerns, Miss Granger," Snape noted. His hand patted her shoulder in a clumsy gesture of comfort. "I had noted some peculiarities but chalked them up to normal adolescence. I will keep an eye on Mister Potter, you can be assured of that! Now, go down to dinner and then to the Hospital Wing. That's an order," he said, but the lines crinkled around his eyes belied it. A shaky smile spread across Hermione's lips as she rose again to her feet, slightly unsteady, but manageable.

"And five points to Ravenclaw for helping a friend," she thought she heard him say, but when she turned around, he was gone.

Harry, or rather, Raven, had indeed noted Hermione's absence but at the moment, they had their own problems. A chance argument Harry had stumbled on in the courtyard had set off a rather nasty chain reaction inside and it was all anyone could do to stop Freak from fronting. As it was, Tom's hands kept trembling and his shoulders hunched every time someone raised their voice or made the slightest movement toward him.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, we should be above this! He couldn't help but think. This was Hogwarts, not Privet Drive. There were no Dursleys here. No Uncle Vernon with his blustering tomato-red face and well-worn belt, no Aunt Petunia to aim a soapy frying pan. No Dudley, all bluster and swinging fists. The professors might be strict, some to the point of irritation, but so far, not even Snape had truly, properly yelled at them.

Nor did it help to hear Raven's constant anxious queries inside about where Hermione was. Tom ended up snapping he hadn't the faintest and felt a moment's abashment when Raven cringed back inside, looking chastened.

I'm sorry, Raven, Tom instantly apologized. It's just...it's getting to me. I'm sorry.

It's all right, she accepted, but she still looked terrified and he knew it wasn't. Shit. At the moment, he was nearly ready to say fuck it and let Freak front anyway, but just then, Hermione hurried into the room, looking none the worse for wear, save the way her hand kept stealing up to rub at the back of her head.

Still, the smile she flashed their way was bright enough. It certainly cheered Raven, and prevented her incessant worrying, a fact that pleased Tom to no end, no matter how the guilt bit at him. It was good for them to have a friend. A proper friend. And at least she never looked at them in that particular searching way Blaise had, or cornered them in the dorm to probe about their home life. A true friend, Tom thought in blissful ignorance of the conversation that Hermione and their Head of House had held not ten minutes before. Knows to keep her nose out of our business! It didn't help much, but it quelled the perpetual panic attack they had going on, pushing it aside for a later time, a safer time.

When lights-out took place and Tom sat cross-legged in the bed, silencing spells up and multi-layered, locking spell on the curtains firmly in place, the system fell apart.