Oh Goodness! The third chapter! It only took…quite a while, actually. To learn more, check out the Author's note at the bottom. Sorry!

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter and make no money. It belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Update 12/23/18 – Only a couple changes to the wording. No big changes.

On the Wrong Side of Sanity

Chapter 3: Dreams Would Be Kinder

Living is strife and torment,

disappointment and love and sacrifice,

golden sunsets and black storms.
-Laurence Olivier

"This is preposterous. It was obviously all in self-defense!"

"We're looking into it, Miss. Rest assured that we will give this case the full attention that it deserves. Aurors, seat him over there."

"It's okay, honey. We'll have this all worked out in no time at all. You just sit there like he said, and we'll get things settled. No worries, now. Where's his wand?"

"Harry! Harry, it's me. Harry, please say something! Why isn't he saying anything? Mum! What's going on?"

"Mrs. Weasley, we have his wand for inspection. Aurors, make sure he doesn't try to go anywhere. Keep him in sight at all times. No, Miss. You'll have to stay out of here. You are no blood-relative. I don't care if you've been his secret lover for years, this is for security."

"Mum! What happened?"

"Miss, I told you that you can't stay in here."

The words all flew around me, past me, through me. All I could do was stare into space. I was in what looked like a room, a white one, I think. I couldn't really concentrate enough to know where I really was. All I knew was that there were a lot of people, all yelling, or at least talking fast. I was quite sure I could even hear someone crying. But I could not pay attention to any of it. Only to Lestrange. The woman that was now dead.

I had seen death before. I had just never truly directly, inexplicably, and maybe even purposefully caused it. But things were different now. And the dull eyes of a dead woman had stared at me for what seemed like an eternity; they had stared accusingly. They knew what I had done. Now everyone else would, too. And they would accuse me, just like her eyes had.

"Where are you taking him? Just look at all the blood on his face and shirt! He needs to see a Mediwitch!"

"His wounds will be taken care of as soon as we can document them."

"Document? You are going to take him to trial?"

"It is the law."

"Oh, poor dear. It will all be alright. We'll take care of everything, ok? Harry? Look at me, please. It's Mrs. Weasley. Everything is going to be fine."

It was like waking into a dream; nothing seemed real enough. I was in a white room, sitting on a small white cot. I didn't have the energy or the will power to move my head much, so I simply moved my eyes alone, slowly taking in my surroundings. It took me even longer to comprehend them. This wasn't a room, I finally understood.

This was a cell.

I opened my mouth, intending to draw someone's attention, but my throat was dry, and the only thing that emerged was a low croak. I coughed from the discomfort and then cleared my throat to try once more.

"H-hello? Wha-where am I? What is going on? Anyone?" My voice was terrible. It must be easy to hear how terrified and confused I was.

It took what felt like hours for anyone to come to my room. My cell. My white, bare, tiny little cell with a small, white cot. And a door with a lock on the other side. They opened the door briskly and stepped inside, deliberately closing the door behind them. It was as if they were afraid that I would try something stupid; that I would try to escape. But how could I, locked in my guilt and disbelief as I was?

"Mr. Potter…" The man, no, the Auror paused as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. Who could blame him? How many wizards not even out of school had killed someone during his years as an Auror. And how many of them were famous for being the 'Golden Boy' or the 'Chosen One'?

"What is going on? Why am I here? Where is here?" I asked in quick succession, the words seeming to fall from my mouth before I could halt the flow. The Auror, whoever he was, took a deep breath as if to steady himself for a difficult conversation. I mimicked him.

"Mr. Potter," he finally began, "you are being tried for murder and the use of an unforgivable curse."

I thought I stopped breathing for a bit after his announcement. There was no need to ask again where I was, that was obvious. The Auror studied me, seeming unable to say any more. Although, what more needed to be said after that? How did you tell someone that they had screwed up so badly?

"When?" It was the only thing I could think of to ask at the moment. The man raised an eyebrow at me. I must have looked or sounded much calmer that I actually was. I hoped that was all.

"It may take some time. There is no date currently set for the hearing."

I nodded. What else was there to say now? I felt like I couldn't dispute anything. Not really. They were right; I had done both of those things. Maybe I should be raging against all of this. Maybe I would have, not even one full year ago. But now, all I could do was sit there and nod.

Maybe it was a dream.

I could hope, right?

The Auror left me alone once more, and I decided to lie down. Maybe the room would stop spinning around me then.

The next time that the door opened, it was for someone that I had definitely not expected to see. Not expected, although dearly wished to. Albus Dumbledore calmly stepped through the door and sat upon my small, white cot. He looked at me a bit before turning his head to regard the door that he had just come through. He seemed rather tired. For all that I had held against him for so long, it didn't matter anymore. I needed him. He could help me, like he had done before.

"I have talked to them, my boy. They insist that a trial needs to be held. 'The sooner, the better' is what they said. I'm afraid that I'm not sure if I can get you out of this."

He looked at me again, and it was easy to see the way his face seemed to droop a bit. There was no hint of the usual good humor in his eyes. None of the sparkle. He only seemed tired and sad.

"I didn't do it on purpose. You know that, right? It wasn't on purpose." My voice sounded sadly pleading, even to myself, but I wanted to make sure he understood. I never truly wanted this to happen, not any of it. Dumbledore just nodded. I had to turn away from him. I couldn't stand to see him look like that.

"What will happen?" I asked, still staring almost blindly at the wall behind him.

"It will be quite similar to the trial you had earlier this year, I'm afraid." I felt like I wanted to cry. The last time, I was full of righteous anger. I knew how to fight, and I trusted Dumbledore to help me do it. This time felt different. Horribly different. I wasn't sure that anyone would be able to get me out of this. I had used an unforgivable curse. I had killed someone, and her eyes had accused me. I felt my breath hitch.

The saddest part was that I didn't even feel triumph. There was no victory over the woman who had killed Sirius and stolen away a chance at happiness. No feeling of vindication. There was simply disbelief. What had happened? How had the day gone so terribly wrong?

I hadn't even gotten the chance to see a movie with my friends.

It wasn't much longer until Dumbledore left, and I was alone again in that little white room: my cell.

Maybe this was all just a dream.

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Alright everyone! Two chapters updates relatively quick, although this chapter is a bit shorter. Please note that I am not abandoning any of my fics at this time. Not even Barbed Roses. It has just been a rather long break that I've taken due to my personal and professional life. After losing chapters due to computer malfunction, as well as excursions out of the country in order to attend some schools, things have been hectic. While I am not abandoning any of my fics, I will be focusing more on Otwsos instead of the other two ongoing fics.

Now that I'm done with that, you may certainly proceed to give me reviews.