"It’s hidden in a box under a cot in the cupboard,” Draco said softly. “What do you know, he really did tell me his greatest secret.”

“What are you talking about?” Severus drawled, his heart thudding painfully loud in his chest. It was somewhat obvious at least who Draco was talking about. How else could he have heard about the cupboard? The more pertinent question was why Harry – or one of his alters – would tell something like that to Draco Malfoy?

“I caught Potter out on the pitch on Friday,” Draco explained. “We played a game of seeker-Quidditch, the loser having to tell a big secret to the winner. We had a draw, so we each told a secret, but Potter’s didn’t make any sense, he just said ‘It’s hidden in a box under a cot in the cupboard’. He put the same stress on ‘It’ that you did, so I’m pretty sure that was the same ‘It’. I have no idea what cupboard, though, or why there would be a cot in it at all.”

“Quidditch?” Severus frowned in thought. “Must’ve been Danny then. I wouldn’t have thought he’d be privy to Potter’s secrets, let alone inclined to spill them, no matter any agreements.”

“Danny?” Draco asked. “No, sir, I’m sure it was Potter.” He snorted. “Like anyone could miss the scar.”

Severus cursed his own slip of the tongue, he was getting far too loose lipped around the boy, letting his thoughts run free out of his mouth without thought to possible consequences. There had been little danger when Draco found out about his position as spy, since Severus had predicted since third year that the young Malfoy would not follow in his father’s footsteps. Oh, Draco had all Lucius’ pureblood pride, but while Draco was sound in mind, Lucius had always been a few twigs short of a broom.

Brilliant, undeniably, but completely barmy when it came right down to it.

However, Potter’s secrets were an entirely different manner, and he could not just go blurting them out to someone who despised all Gryffindor heroes with a passion.

Severus shook his head dismissively and said, “In any case, I will have to talk with him on Monday. Tomorrow.” He heaved an aggravated sigh, causing Draco to smirk in amusement.

As the conversation began to drift to other points, Severus’ last thought lingered on the Potter boy.

I wonder if his alters have told Harry’s secrets to anyone else?

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Hermione watched Harry with worried eyes. He had been switching between himself and Tom ever since meeting with Snape yesterday. Whenever he was Harry, he’d act normal for a bit, but if he was left alone he’d brood and brood, over what, she didn’t know; whenever someone tried to confront Harry about his preoccupied mind, Tom would come out and brush them off.

What really scared her was the way Tom always looked scared, and walked as if paranoid, checking over his shoulder every few steps. When she and Ron had first met Tom, he’d seemed casual, confident, and, well, cool. Now, though, even that side of Harry was jumpy and brooding at times.

She wondered if something bad had happened when Harry met his alters in the pensieve.

By late Sunday afternoon, she had practically worked herself frantic over it, turning every sigh of Harry’s into a sign of depression and every twitch of Tom’s into a terror-induced flinch. Oh she knew very well she was overreacting, but awareness alone didn’t stop it from happening, and she couldn’t help but fear her suspicions were correct.

Unsure what else to do, she made her way down to Professor Snape’s office after dinner, while Ron finished his homework and Harry took a walk around the lake, to talk, hoping the man would restrain himself from his usual vitriol. Her first knock was short and timid, so it was no great surprise when he didn’t open the door right away. She knocked again, and again, each time louder than the last.

After several minutes of waiting and knocking, Hermione had to admit that Snape probably wasn’t there.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

“My lord,” Severus intoned, bowing at the feet of the disfigured snake who called himself a man.

“Severus,” Voldemort hissed languidly, “how goes it at Hogwarts?”

“Well, my lord,” Severus almost hesitated. “The old fool Dumbledore has come to the conclusion that Potter is indeed in need of psychological help and has been sending him to a councilor once a week.”

“Indeed, and who is this councilor?” Voldemort asked eagerly.

“I have not been informed, I’m sorry my lord,” Severus bowed deeper, bracing himself for the painful punishment that was certain to be inflicted. When none came, Severus wondered if he should be worried.

“Severus, look at me,” Voldemort commanded.

Severus obediently raised his head and locked eyes with the beast, carefully occluding his memories of Potter’s detentions from his mind, pushing to the front his hatred of the Potter name. He expected the casual perusal of his thoughts that the Dark Lord regularly performed to ensure himself of his followers’ loyalty.

He was not prepared for a full on mental assault by the powerful wizard. The gathering around him faded away as Voldemort forced his way into Severus’ mind. Almost before he could react, the Dark Lord had slipped completely into his memories. The potions master forced himself to feel nothing and to forget all about the less-than-hostile time he had spent with Potter. Voldemort could feel his resistance and pushed harder, searching thoroughly for signs of treachery, but Severus slipped through his slimy grasp each time.

Voldemort started trying to weaken him, pulling out memories of humiliation from Hogwarts, of pain and betrayal. He even brought up the memory from when Severus was eight, watching his father dragged off to get the Dementor’s kiss while his mother sobbed hysterically and pleaded with the aurors. Still, Severus suppressed his emotions, feeling nothing as he relived again the horrible moment when his father lost his soul and his mother lost her mind.

The attack seemed to last for hours. Severus’ felt like his brain had been turned into mush by the time a loud thump and a cheer pulled Voldemort from his mind.

“My lord, we apologize for interrupting,” some faceless sycophant said smugly. “Our young friend came through and we have brought you a gift.”

Voldemort’s gaze turned from Severus to something behind him. The potions master turned as well, seeing a large bundle that didn’t look like much of anything. Moments later, however, the bundle moved and a scrap of fabric fell off, revealing wild jet black hair and wire frame glasses.

“Wonderful,” Voldemort congratulated, practically salivating. “This is the perfect opportunity. Severus!”

“Yes, my lord?” Severus asked, quickly returning his view to the ground in front of him.

“I have doubts about your loyalty.”

The crowd gasped. Severus was well known, and well feared, as one of Voldemort’s most loyal, and he was doubted? That was practically a death sentence in and of itself. Severus braced himself to run if Voldemort raised his wand, knowing that if he could just get to the Idiot Boy, he could activate his emergency portkey and take them back to Hogwarts. But Voldemort did not seem inclined to strike him down just yet.

“Here we have the pathetic brat who has plagued me since the day he was born, and one who calls himself my most loyal. If you wish to prove yourself, Severus, and maintain your place within my ranks, rid me of this pest for good.” Voldemort grinned coldly. “I won’t even mind if you do it because of your hatred of the boy’s father, rather than because of your loyalty to me.”

Severus nodded and rose, drawing his wand from within the folds of his robes. The portkey amulet felt like a lead weight against his chest as he stalked slowly over to where Harry lay, moaning quietly. The stunning spell the boy was undoubtedly under was wearing off, which in and of itself confirmed Severus’ suspicions that the ‘young friend’ was a student at Hogwarts – the stunning spell of a fully trained wizard could last for weeks. Just as the professor stopped and stood over his student, Harry’s eyes opened and locked with his, brilliant green boring into onyx, before shifting quickly around, taking in the entire situation within moments as he sat up.

“You bastard,” the boy hissed, returning his gaze to Severus with a look of such hatred and betrayal that it made him pause. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted, I knew all along. Ron was right, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.” Harry drew his lips back in a grimace that was half sneer and half snarl, spitting at his feet.

“Severus, complete your task,” Voldemort demanded, his sibilant voice dangerously low.

Severus raised his right hand, holding the wand, until it pointed directly at the boy’s heart, all the while sneaking his left hand up to the chain at his throat.

“Avada –” he growled, then yanked on the chain, pulling the portkey out and into his grasp. The man lunged for Harry, trying to get skin on skin contact so he could speak the password, but a curse hit him from behind and the world went dark.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Tom sighed as he felt the professor’s weight settle completely on his arms. He’d tried, he’d done his best to keep Voldemort’s suspicions off of Snape, but apparently it hadn’t been enough. There might still be hope, though, if he played it right.

“Gee, Riddle,” said Tom blithely, “I’d say thank you, but I doubt you had saving my life in mind there.”

“You will not refer to me by that name, if you know what is good for you,” Voldemort growled. Tom shrugged. “And do not act as if you don’t know where Severus Snape’s loyalties lie. He has been lying to me, he said he didn’t know who you went to for weekly counseling, but my informant within the student body told me that the only weekly appointment you have kept is Monday detentions with Severus himself.”

Well, Tom thought, this is just great. Stupid git just had to get himself found out.

“Yes, well, aren’t you the smart one, Voldie,” he sneered, watching with no small delight as the fearsome dark wizard bristled and glared at the childish insult. “So what now, another duel? Or are you going to fail to possess me again?”

“Hardly, I have something more planned for you,” said Voldemort, nodding at someone behind Tom. The youth spun around just in time to see the wand pointed at him and hear the word Stupefy, before he fell unconscious beside his professor.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

The dark, dank smell of the cell was what Harry first noticed as he regained consciousness. It was oppressive, filling his nose and mouth, filling his lungs like thick fog. Eventually his eyes adjusted to the almost nonexistent light and he noticed other things as well – the thick door with one small, barred window, the faint signs of starlight filtering in through the mouse-sized hole near the ceiling, and the hunched figure of his potions professor watching him from the other side of the tiny room.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, sounding, of all things, relieved to see Harry awake.

“Professor Snape,” Harry blinked and shook his head to clear it. “What’s going on, where are we?”

“What is the last thing you remember, Potter?” Snape asked gruffly, but without his usual sneer.

“I was…taking a walk around the lake,” Harry said, frowning as he tried to recall what had happened. “I stopped on the far side to skip rocks so I could think about…stuff, then everything is blank.”

Snape sighed heavily. “It seems one, or many, of the students stunned you and dragged you off the grounds where a group of Death Eaters was waiting. They apparated you to a meeting with the Dark Lord. To make a long story short, he knows I’m a spy and we’re both in his dungeons, awaiting whatever nefarious fate he has in store.”

“Oh,” Harry said succinctly. “Well, that’s not good.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Your power for understating the situation astounds me, Potter.”

Harry stifled a maniacal grin that threatened to break out on his face, and wondered idly if he was finally going insane or if the situation just hadn’t sunk in yet. The latter would probably be more useful to the situation, but he had a feeling the former would be more fun.

While he waited for the inevitable realization that the situation was hopeless, Harry sat up and looked around some more. He had been laying on cot made of thick wooden boards supported by two chains hooked to the wall. Odd; Harry doubted the Death Eaters had placed him there, which meant Snape had to have done it himself. It was almost impossible to imagine the austere, sneering, bitter potions master carrying Harry, unconscious, to the only seat/bedding available.

Maybe he has hemorrhoids and can’t sit on something hard, Harry thought, then sighed. His flippant attitude was starting to get on his own nerves. But he just had to face it: he didn’t think he could even begin to comprehend this new disaster until he understood the first. After all, finding out he had MPD had taken up the majority of his cognitive abilities.

“Sir?” Harry asked. Snape’s head shot up from where he’d been studying the dirt on the floor. “How many of my, er…personalities have you met?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow at the topic of conversation. “Most of them. Some more extensively than others. I haven’t had any interaction with Potter beyond what you saw in my memory, and there is one more personality that the others have been hiding from us, but I do not know what It is.”

Harry got a chill up his spine at the word It, and suddenly felt the familiar sensation of something rising within him, for a moment he felt as if he were drowning and panic made him push it back down.

“Sir…Professor,” he gasped. “Something’s coming…I can’t…I can’t breathe!”

In an instant, Snape was there in front of him, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and locking eyes with him.

“Let it come, Potter,” he said softly. “Whoever it is, they are there to help you. Let it come.”

Harry nodded, and stopped struggling. In the moment before he was overcome, something touched his awareness and a name filtered into his head…

James.

8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

Severus watched Harry’s consciousness submerge with interest, and waited eagerly for the new personality. However, the moment the change was complete, he was forcefully pushed away.

“What do you think you’re doing, Snape,” the boy growled. “You think you can just barge into our mind and find out all our secrets. Maybe we don’t want you to know our secrets! Maybe we don’t want your help, alright? Like a greasy git such as yourself could help us anyway.”

“James, I presume?” Severus asked, ignoring the vicious words. The boy nodded curtly, glaring at him. “Out of exile already?”

“Look, I made one mistake, one. We all knew you had to be…disillusioned eventually as far as our childhood goes.” James shrugged. “We’re not stupid, we knew you thought we were faking, that Harry just wanted attention. Tom wanted to show you some of the memories we had locked away, but I think you did enough damage during Occlumency lessons last year, frankly. Maybe my idea wasn’t the best one, and maybe it did get Harry hurt, but he’s had worse, his body will heal.”

“And his mind?”

“There’s nothing wrong with his mind, we made sure of that!” James shouted. “We took the bad away, and Harry’s happy now! Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how much it would hurt him to know what they did?”

“Harry is not happy,” Severus insisted quietly. “He is terrified of you and the other alters, and he hates not having control of his own body.” James flushed and pursed his lips. “Besides, if Harry is able to take those memories, deal with them and put them behind him, he will be that much stronger. Don’t you want him to have that strength?”

James looked at the ground, his shoulders hunched stubbornly. “Harry needs us,” he insisted. “We’re the only ones who’ve ever looked out for him. If we go away, who will be there the next time He comes home drunk? Who’ll heal him afterwards? Who’ll take away the hurt of having his only living relatives hurt him?”

Severus sighed, mournful that anyone should ask such questions, and placed a hand on James’ back. “First of all, Harry will never go back to the Dursleys. I have informed Dumbledore that he shall lose both my services as potions master and professor, as well as knowledge of your whereabouts should he attempt to send you back. Secondly, Harry will be there for himself, he will have all of your strengths. And his friends will be there for him. And, much though I would rather wash my hands of the whole Potter line,” he teased, “I will be there for him. Harry is not alone outside anymore, James. You can let go.”

“I don’t want Harry hurt,” James whispered.

“I know,” said Severus. “And I know it will hurt, when he remembers what has happened, but he will survive, and he will be stronger.”

A door clanged open some distance away and footsteps were heard descending stairs toward them. The boy shifted slightly, his posture relaxing, his eyes drooping slightly, as if bored.

“This is hardly the time or place for this conversation, professor,” Tom drawled quietly. Severus nodded his agreement and moved back to his former place along the wall. The footsteps drew nearer, finally stopping in front of the door. Neither Severus nor Tom could see who was there from their vantage points, so they simply had to sit and listen as the lock clicked and the door creaked open, spilling in a cruel amount of light. The silhouette of two people could be seen, entering the cell and closing the door behind them.

In the dimmer light, both were easily distinguishable. Voldemort’s boney body, hidden within his opulent robes, was no more discernable than Bellatrix’s long, scraggly hair and wide, insane smile.

“Look at them, Bellatrix,” Voldemort boasted. “The traitor and the pest, both locked safely away for us to play with.”

“Oh, Master!” Bellatrix crowed. “They’re such delightful toys! I bet I can make Severus scream. May I try, Master, please?”

“You won’t lay a finger or a wand on him, Bellatrix Black Lestrange.”

Severus looked over to see Potter rising to his feet. Not Harry Potter, but Potter, the hero, the boy wonder. And a wonder he was. It was one thing to see his mental projection in Harry’s subconscious, but quite another to meet him face to face. Or rather, face to back-of-the-head, as Potter had moved to stand protectively in front of him.

“If you want to try, you have to go through me, first.”