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Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, never will. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Update 12/23/18 – Changes added for continuity with the changes added to the previous chapter.

On the Wrong Side of Sanity

Chapter 5: Small Comfort

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

-Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

People were everywhere. Behind me were those powerful witches and wizards that had sentenced me to hell. In front of me were reporters scribbling over their pads of paper and photographers brandishing their cameras, flashing again and again and again until I felt blinded. The calls of reporters all around me, asking as many questions as they could come up with at the moment, was deafening. Each reporter was trying their best to be heard over the others until they were almost screaming their questions. Every single question hurt. Each time they mentioned the trial, it was as if sharps claws were shredding my soul, tearing every last bit of comfort away from me and forcing me to remember that terrible word over and over again.

"Guilty!"

I couldn't stop cringing, from both the lights and the pain that I felt in my chest. It didn't matter that they had ruled the death self defense after heavy arguing from Dumbledore supporters; they still decided to stick it to me for the Unforgivable.

I felt so lost.

"What was the evidence gathered from Mr. Potter's wand?"

"It showed the use of the Killing Curse, sir."

My heart pounded away in panic, a sharp, jarring staccato that was trying to break out of my chest. The sounds around me seemed to turn into a loud buzz, nothing was making any sense. The Aurors beside me did nearly nothing to stop the insanity that raged around me, simply marching me to whatever place it was that would transport me to Azkaban. They were marching me stoically to my death, I was sure. I only finally saw an Auror react as one brave reporter tried to grab me in order to get my attention. He was quickly cast back out into the crowd without pause.

The one failed attempt by the reporter didn't deter any of the others from trying to get a response from me. It was impossible, though. There was no way I could possibly talk to any of them. I had no energy to even try to open my mouth at this moment. Even without that, all of the shouted questions being thrown both at me and at the surrounded Aurors only meshed together into unintelligible noise. I almost wished to be back in the somewhat less hectic courtroom with that hated chair.

When we reached the room and the door closed behind us, the noise stopped so suddenly that it was obvious a silencing spell had been used on the area. I opened my mouth to say something, but what, I wasn't sure. Nothing came out, and no one bothered to glance in my direction anyway as matters were settled about my transportation. Finally one Auror turned to look at me. He was the one that had gotten rid of the persistent reporter earlier. There was a grim look in his brown eyes. I felt that he was a man that lived for his job, and nothing else. He pushed something into the hands of the Auror beside me. A heavy, terrifying weight settled on my shoulder, and with a word, my world was sent spinning.

When the world righted itself, I was struck by a chill breeze. The sound of water was the second thing to register in my mind, and I looked on with growing dread.

The icy water of what had to be the North Sea lapped at the sand not far from me. A small wooden boat that looked like it had seen better days sat half in the water unmoving despite the pull of the waves. Nothing else caught my attention, although I looked all around trying to find the hell that I was being brought to.

The Auror with me, one which had short brown hair speckled with grey and a face beginning to show wrinkles, waved his wand over the boat. With a softly spoken spell that I didn't catch, the boat hovered just off the ground. I was rather roughly hustled onto the boat and forced to sit down, after which the Auror with me stepped in. A tap of his wand sent us off into the briny water. The trip was nearly silent. The boat made no noise as we skimmed the water, and there were no animals around that I could see. It was creepy in its stillness. Sitting in the boat, I was no longer able to keep in a daze. Before, I had simply been on autopilot. All I had to do was walk in the direction I was pushed, trying to ignore the noise all around me. Now, with absolutely nothing to do and no noises to use as distraction, I began to shake in fear. Every minute, every second, I was getting closer and closer to the one place I thought I would never have to experience.

Who would have thought the Boy-Who-Live, Chosen one of the wizarding world, Golden Boy of Gryffindor, would find himself facing Azkaban. I shouldn't be surprised, though. People changed their opinion of me on the drop of a hat. One second loved and the next feared; my life was one hell of a roller coaster. I probably should have seen this coming, but how could I? Denouncing me in the papers was one thing, but this was a completely new level. The worst part was, in some way I deserved this. I had killed the witch; I had earned my spot here. My shaking got worse as time passed in that small boat gliding over the water. As more minutes passed the air got even colder. I didn't even try to delude myself into believing it was the weather. It seemed that the effects of the Dementors couldn't be contained even by the many wards surrounding Azkaban. A tear finally escaped and slid wetly down my cheek, leaving behind a cold track of skin as it passed. I didn't know how close we were, but I couldn't yet see the prison and already I was close to breaking.

After half an hour more of allowing my mind to wander all over the place and staring out into the water, I felt magic tingle over me. It was unpleasant, oppressive even, nothing like the warm wash of comfort that came from Hogwarts. I nearly jumped in fright as the looming tower of Azkaban simply appeared out of thin air in front of me. My mouth went dry and my heart picked up speed once more.

The building was large, much larger than I had expected. The only reason I had any idea of what to expect to begin with was due to the newspapers in third year reporting Sirius' escape. I looked up at the building looming over me, and had to crane my neck to do so. It looked like a cold, forbidding place, which rightly presented it, I guess. The sides were dark, and in some places slightly worn away by weather. I could see a lot of tiny holes in the side, all situated evenly spaced from one another. Likely windows, I guessed.

I didn't want to be here. I shouldn't be here.

As the boat reached the rocky ground of the shore, the Auror behind me stood and stepped off the boat.

"Stand slowly."

Quite direct and to the point. I had to wonder if he had been told to avoid talking to me or if was just how he was. I did as instructed, and couldn't help but shiver as the cold wind blew off the North Sea. The walk to the entrance was not far, and we walked in silence that was only broken by the wind in my ears. My arms ached from being chained behind me for so long. They chained me up as if I was likely to go on a killing spree. As we got closer to the entrance of the horrible prison, I slowed down. I could already hear the faint screams of prisoners inside. I nearly forgot myself until I was prodded by the Auror to keep moving. When we passed the dark, heavy doors of the prison, I realized that I wasn't hearing the prisoners. I wasn't hearing anything at all. It was all in my head.

Why was I here? I had only defended myself.

Every awful dream I had ever had, any time my friends had been seriously hurt, every second that I had been held under the Cruciatus. It was all there, playing faintly in my memory just for my enjoyment. I wasn't even in the main part of the prison and the evil, terrifying powers of the Dementors were affecting me. I sniffed, and half-heartedly convinced myself it was the cold weather.

When we got inside, it was a little warmer, though most likely only because the wind could no longer reach us. I was escorted to a small office, which was well-lit and cozy, with a desk taking up a good portion of the room. The man sitting behind the desk was older, hair neatly combed and small mustache trimmed. He looked up as we entered the room, then immediately handed over some paperwork and stood up to go through a drawer.

"This him?" he asked, making a bit of noise as he searched through the drawer.

"Harry Potter, yes. You have the robes ready?" the Auror behind me replied.

"Yes, yes, in a second. Anything on him that we need to hold?"

"Nothing. Underclothes and glasses will stay with him."

I felt odd standing there beside the Auror and being talked about as if I wasn't. It was unreal. It wasn't fair to me, it wasn't right. I didn't bother to open my mouth to protest, though. At this point, did it matter? I felt defeated.

"Here we go," said the man while turning away from the drawer with a plain black robe in his hands. "One quick switching spell and we'll be ready. You finished with the paperwork already?"

"Five minutes ago" was his terse reply. It was the closest thing to emotion that I had heard from him so far.

"Alright then. I have some men waiting nearby to escort. Let me go ahead with that switching charm and I'll let you get on with it." The switching spell left me wearing the robe he had been holding. It was slightly too large and a little itchy. I couldn't even scratch at the annoying cloth with my hands bound behind me.

Once that was finished I was escorted out of the tiny office with the Auror's hand heavy on my shoulder. The other man, who I assumed was like the warden of Azkaban, exited with us and strode to another nearby door. He popped his head inside and called some names that I didn't quite catch. Two men quickly came out after the warden left and then we were on our way down the dark hallways of Azkaban.

Walking down those dark, echoing hallways surrounded by grim-faced guards was as nerve-wracking as the wait for the Wizengamot's decision. To be honest, it was worse because there wasn't any hope of this all going away anymore. I was here, and couldn't be sure if I would get out any time soon. Some of the cells we passed were empty. The ones that contained prisoners were hard to look at. Their rumpled, dirty forms were a clue towards what I might look like soon. I was nearly paralyzed by the moans and the child-like crying of some of the prisoners. The Aurors behind me nearly tripped over me, and I was forced to walk again with some rough prodding. None of this was right; I shouldn't be here at all, but I kept walking. Others prisoners that we passed were laughing hysterically, pointing at us when we got close enough. Those were the worst. It took a long time, but eventually the group around me slowed and came to a stop.

The cell I was brought to was dark, like the rest of Azkaban. The bars screeched as they were opened, and I winced at the sound. It went right through me, like the screech of an angry bird. It was the screech of madness; the noises of the other prisoners nearby rose in reply. I was pushed towards the cell as soon as the bars were open far enough. I resisted, though.

"No!" I was standing in front of the cell, shaking my head repeatedly. "No! This isn't…I shouldn't – this isn't right!"

I heard some uncomfortable noises made by the people around me, but I was still pushed into the cell. None of them said a thing. The Aurors did not close and lock them behind me as I had expected them to. Instead, one followed me in and released the binds from my wrists. Apparently everyone figured that taking away wands and having Dementors as guards was enough to keep criminals trapped. They were likely right, for the most part. Not many magicals could focus enough of their magic in order to save themselves without a wand, even if they did have an animagus form.

The Auror left the cell after freeing my wrists. The clang of the bars as they shut sent shivers through me. These men were followers, not the kind to question orders and always doing things exactly as specified. They didn't care that someone not even out of school yet was being held in the absolute worst prison in existence. It certainly didn't matter to them that I was the famous Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, and all that rubbish. It probably actually turned them off of me even more.

"She was a Death Eater, dammit." It came out as only a whisper, the bit of strength from the adrenaline that had been released in me when I saw my cell now failing to keep me from feeling despair. It didn't matter, and I knew it. It wasn't the witch's death, after all, that they had so disapproved of. It was the use of the Unforgivable that was, well, unforgivable. I couldn't really fight that. It didn't matter what other reasons they had for deciding to throw the book at me because they had at least one legitimate one that was upheld by the law.

I turned after hearing footsteps walking away and was surprised to see one Auror, or maybe he was just called a guard, still standing outside of my cell, simply studying me. He was a younger man, probably still in his twenties. His face was a little scruffy from at least a few days without shaving. His eyes were dark and somewhat difficult to see in the dim hallway under his sandy hair. He reached into a pocket of his robes and I tensed. People weren't happy with me right now. Who knows what others would try to get away with in regards to me. I was thus surprised when a piece of chocolate was thrust through the bars of my cell. I took it automatically, still staring at the man in surprise.

After the man had turned and briskly began to walk away, I thought that maybe I should have thanked him. As sad as it was, that was the nicest thing that someone had done for me for a few days. I looked down at the chocolate in my hand and decided to stuff it in a pocket that my prison-issued robes had, glad that the sweet was wrapped up.

When I looked back up, the man was making his way quickly down the hall back towards the entrance, likely returning to the guards' rooms. As the man left, no matter how little I knew him, I felt like I was being deserted. The only truly sane human contact I had here was briskly walking towards freedom, and I was trapped here with the soft cries of other prisoners. My hands were fisted in my robes in fear. I refused to acknowledge their shaking as I lost sight of the guard.

Now that I was alone, I took a closer look at my cell. In the corner on one side was my…bed. It was a little ratty looking thing. I'm sure that at one time, the sheets on it were white, but years had yellowed the cloth until it looked like something that had been dragged through the dirt. When I sat down on the bed, it didn't give much and it squeaked in protest. The blanket wasn't much to look at either. It was also an ugly yellow color, with a bit of wear along the edges. A bit of dull light shone on the floor near to where I was sitting. The air that flowed in from the tiny window was chill and had a fishy smell to it. I couldn't see anything but a small bit of sky from the window, which was quite depressing. I wanted to be able to go flying again, or even just sit around and joke with my friends on the field outside the burrow. I missed them, and I hadn't even been here that long. A scraping sound across the floor near to my cell pulled me from my inner sorrows.

"H-Hello?"

My voice sounded weak and fearful, but that reflected my feelings quite accurately, no matter how I wanted to deny it. It was creepy in that cell with only the dim light from my tiny little window. The only sound that greeted my inquiry was broken mumbling. It made me shiver. Would that be me in the future? Would I be like the broken bodies that I saw on the way to this little hell?

Would I lose my mind here?

Across from me, I could see the rumpled form of another prisoner. They were on the floor near the wall, nearly hidden by the shadows and completely still. Dark hair and the standard Azkaban robes helped them blend into the shadows even more.

Farther down the hall, I heard the noises from the prisoners increase. It echoed all through the long halls, getting louder and louder. Screams and cries got even louder, blending together in a cacophony of hair-raising noise that made me want to cover my ears, although even that couldn't block it all out. The cries just kept getting louder; closer. Soon, I was even able to make out some of what was being howled by the prisoners. I could not stop the shivers that made my entire body tremble.

"NO! ….NOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT! MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOOOOP!"

"OH GOD HE'S HERE! NononononoNO! He won't….HE WON'T! HOW COULD HE?"

"Badbadbad, nonono…bad woman. Dead woman! DiediedieDIEDIE!"

Screams soon broke out, although some of them were different than the rest. They came from inside me, mixing with the yells and pleading of the prisoners around me, making it difficult to tell reality from the memories that were dragged to the forefront of my mind. My sight started to dim, and I realized just how cold I was; unbearably cold and shaking. It wasn't until I put my hands to my face in order to warm them that I realized that I was crying.

The Dementors were coming.

How had Sirius survived this place? How could I?

My knees buckled, failing as I tried to take a step towards the bed that I had left in order to inspect the other cells nearby. Weakness stole through all of my limbs, until all I could do was lie there as my vision narrowed down to a circle.

I wished my friends to get me out of here once more and then I was gone, dragged down and down and down into horrors that I wanted to forget.

I was gone.

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Here we are: another chapter. I know it came out slower than the previous, but that's because for some reason, every time I got close I was never happy enough with it. As always, please submit your thoughts, feelings and etcetera.