Here is the sixth chapter of On the Wrong Side of Sanity. I'm not sure how much interest this story is generating in readers out there, but at least it's fun to write.
Update 12/23/18 – Mostly just made some grammar fixes.
On the Wrong Side of Sanity
Chapter 6: A Saving Grace
Although men are accused of not knowing their own weakness, yet perhaps few know their own strength.
It is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not of.
-Jonathan Swift
I woke up with a gasp. I was not lying in the bed, so I knew that I was not waking up from sleep. My hands trembled, and my stomach twisted in complaint. I dragged my uncooperative body to lean against the dirty cot, trying to get my mind to remember everything against the horrible images that still lingered in my mind.
I was in Azkaban. How long had I been here? What day was it?
A glance to the window only told me that it wasn't night yet as the window showed some light shining in through the grey clouds. With a bit more time to get my thoughts together, I started to remember bits and pieces, as I had hoped would happen. I pushed myself up and onto the bed in order to get a look at the wall beside it. Fifteen scratches on the wall from a small rock that had chipped off the wall told me what I wanted to know. I had been in Azkaban for little over a week.
But what if I had missed some days? Did I mark the wall this morning when I woke up?
I grabbed the stone and held it to the wall, still debating. After a second or two, I put the rock back down without scratching the wall. I probably had marked it earlier today. Maybe.
Near the door to the cell sat my meal, a tasteless soup that was probably made to fit the caloric requirements of a body perfectly, without a thought to its taste. I walked over to the bowl and began eating the soup against the will of my stomach. It was hard to keep an appetite with the Dementors around, although for now, they were not roaming the halls. I didn't know how much time I had before they came back though. I couldn't tell how long I had been out of it since their last visit.
As I finished my meal, the other prisoners began getting louder, some dragging themselves to their bowl of awful slop. From the very beginning I noticed how I recovered from the presence of the Dementors faster than those around me. I was overall healthier, though; quite different from those who, after all their time here, could not even remember their own name. I probably would start to get slower too, with time.
I put the bowl back on the floor as I finished, and it disappeared without a sound. Even the prison had House Elves to keep things working well. I had no idea what magic kept the simple toilet, which was really only a small hole in the corner of the cell, mostly clean. I hadn't even noticed the thing when I had first arrived, but the call of nature was a good motivator to look the small space over with more attention.
I laid down on the uncomfortable bed and just stared at the ceiling. I wondered about what my friends were doing now.
Where they trying to get me out of here? I could just imagine Hermione searching through book after book on wizarding law while Ron sat by her trying to understand her constant babble about what she should look up next. It brought a smile to my face, which felt absolutely wonderful after the horrors of my mind. Sounds picked up again down the hall, and my heart sped up.
"Not Harry!"
'Oh please, not again so soon.' I needed more time to pull myself together. This was too soon. Much too soon. I hadn't had nearly enough time to calm down yet. I was still sluggish from the previous round. 'Please, let them pass this hall.'
"Take me instead! Take me and leave him be!"
.
"Kill the spare."
.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given…"
I turned over and pushed my head into the ratty pillow, seeking any comfort I could from it. The voices from my past pushed and pulled, warring for dominance over each other. The screams and moans from the other inmates faded. The noises of reality could not compete with those in my mind.
I opened my eyes and turned my head to the side, looking for what, I did not know. The cell seemed even darker now, and thicker darkness crept around the border of my sight. Soon I was pulled under once again, a prisoner in my mind.
I saw Ginny lying on the ground, cold and very still. Was she dead? Was I too late to save her?
A blink later
A gigantic basilisk was lunging toward me. I held up the sword in my hand, heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Pain blossomed in my arm, so agonizing that all I could do was drop the sword and fall to the ground. My worst enemy slowly walked over as my vision blurred.
Blink
I was standing in the graveyard just staring at the body of my Tri-Wizard Tournament 'rival', Cedric, unable to do or say anything. I could still hear the haunting words ringing in my ears.
"Kill the spare."
Blink
I was tied to the headstone once more. Wormtail was walking towards me with a knife, his stump of an arm still bleeding everywhere, wrapped as it was in a robe but dripping grotesquely on the ground at his feet in fat droplets. The ropes that bound me had no give to them, and I couldn't fight as my arm was sliced open to collect blood.
Blink
A red jet of light hit Sirius as he was laughing. He barely had enough time to register what had happened before he was falling through the veil. His face was set in surprise as he glanced my way before disappearing forever.
Blink
The worst pain I could have ever imagined. I could not ignore it. I could not escape it. It was everywhere and everything. The voice that was coming through my mouth was not my own but I couldn't focus on that; only the overwhelming pain.
"Kill me."
I woke up, shaking like crazy. I was on my bed, but I couldn't remember going to sleep. My pillow was wet with tears, and my eyes stung horribly. I spent maybe five minutes recovering before everything began flooding back to me. I almost felt like crying some more, but I was simply too exhausted. I stayed on the bed longer, wishing for the coldness to go away.
Eventually, I felt well enough to sit up; checking the wall again just to make sure that my memory was working. There were still fifteen marks on the wall, and dim light still shone through my little window. The other prisoners must have still been out of it, because the only sound I could hear besides the quiet cries in my head was the light whistling of wind against the prison. If I tried real hard, I could also barely make out the sound of water.
No bowl of swill was sitting near the bars this time, so I couldn't have been out too long. I was too exhausted to do much of anything, so I simply tried to relax and fell into a troubled, uncomfortable sleep.
…
It was a colder day than normal. There wasn't much wind outside, but the chill permeated everything. I spent what felt like the entire morning just staring at the ceiling above me. I studied every crack, every dark spot, every cobweb that shuddered in the slightest of breezes.
Everything seemed pointless to me at the moment. I almost wished that I could sleep the entire day away. There was nothing that I could do to amuse myself during the long hours that I was awake. I wasn't even sure that I would try to even if there was something to do. I just wanted to immerse myself into the self-pity and resentment that I was feeling.
I was trapped here with the most awful creatures that seemed as if they affected me more than most anyone else. I was a savior, then a villain, then a savior, then a villain once more. I could never win in anything, it seemed. Not the important things, at least.
If only things would get better. Even if it was only some small sign that my time here would soon be coming to an end. Anything.
I woke with a suddenness that just about had my head spinning, the loud noise coming from outside pulling me into unwelcome consciousness. The entire façade of the prison had changed during the time that I had been asleep. Instead of projecting a quiet, menacing feeling, the whole building exuded something that was more likely to be found in a horror movie. Even without the immediate presence of the Dementors, Azkaban was a place of fear. The walls shook with the force of clashing winds and water. The wind sometimes reached a high, ear-splitting pitch as it rushed through the windows and hallways. The beating of rain against the outer walls could be heard clearly over everything. A flash of lightning tore violently through the sky, lighting my cell so brightly that I had to squint. I immediately felt the beginning of a headache throb behind my eyes. A sudden crash of thunder only served to make things worse.
I was not the only one awake to witness the fury of the storm raging outside. Several prisoners near me began crying, while some even screamed at every crash of thunder, as if they wanted to shout their fury as loud as the storm did. I turned in my ratty little bed and tried to muffle the noise by crushing the pillow over my ears. It wasn't nearly as effective as I had hoped. I laid there for what seemed like hours before things began to calm down and I was able to drift off once more.
The sleep that I slipped into was anything but comforting, and nowhere near peaceful. My uncle stared at me in anger, his eyes bleeding into red. His hair fell out one clump at a time while he stalked toward me with his mustache quivering angrily. After he reached me and pulled me forward by the shirt with a rough jerk, the last of his hair had fallen to the floor. I watched in horror as his nose sloughed off of his face before turning to try to get away. I only tripped over his feet and sprawled on the floor. A yell from Dursley made me jump to my feet and take a step away. He was holding his wand up menacingly, so I raised mine in a hurry and tried to fire a spell at him. Nothing happened. My uncle smirked at me and then raised his wand, firing some red curse at me. I couldn't do anything as it hit me and I fell.
I woke abruptly once more as my face hit the ground. My head felt like it wanted to split open, so I stayed where I was while hoping that the pain would pass quickly. When I had finally gotten it under control, I pulled myself back to the bed to check the wall like I did every time after waking. The counting of the scratches took longer this time.
Thirty-two.
I looked at the window to try to see if it was day or night, something that had become as much of a ritual as checking the wall. No light came through, and I was disappointed. I noticed the usual bowl of awful food sitting on the floor only as a darker shape against the lighter color of the floor. I had to force myself up from the bed to go over to it. It was more difficult than usual, but it seemed that no matter how much I slept, I was just getting more and more exhausted.
When I reached the bowl, I nearly knocked it over when I took a step too close. A little of the slop spilled over the edges and on to my foot, but I paid it no mind, instead bending over to pick it up and bring it to my mouth. I had to swallow a few times before I thought I was ready to eat the stuff because my stomach seemed like it was constantly complaining about the awful food put into it. I ignored my distaste like I had every other time, and drank the cold soup. As soon as I dropped the bowl to the ground, it disappeared like usual.
I continued to stand near the entrance of the cell, trying to look down the hallways of the large prison. I eventually slumped to my knees out of exhaustion, but I still wasn't ready to go back to the cot. Here, at least, I could dream about how it felt to be on the other side of these bars.
My mind once again drew me to wonder about my friends. Would they get me out of here? Where they still working on helping me, or had they already forgotten me? It was harder to remember all the times that we had shared together. I couldn't imagine their voices or even their faces as I once could, and that truly bothered me.
A chill running down my spine made me abandon thoughts of my friends in order to listen closely to the sounds of the prison. Were the prisoners getting louder, or was that just the constant wails of my mind? The floor of the cell was always cold, so I ignored it as evidence of approaching Dementors.
Rubbing my hands over my arms did nothing to make me feel any warmer, but I had constantly felt cold since being imprisoned in this awful place. The cold and the screams inside my head were enough to make me feel as if I was going crazy. Mad. Insane. I wanted to wake up from this awful dream, but each time I had to realize that this was the awful reality.
A scream that was louder than the rest sounded from down the hallway, and my heart nearly beat its way out of my chest. They were coming. I wasn't ready. I was never ready.
I grabbed the bars in an attempt to pull myself up off of the floor and over to the bed, but I couldn't. My arms refused to support my weight enough to get me to my feet. Soon, they simply fell to my side as my vision became slightly blurry due to the usual tears. I fell facing the cold metal bars, slowly sliding down until I settled on the floor. I was close enough to press my forehead against them, close enough to smell the sharp odor of the metal. From the other thumps that I heard, I wasn't the only one to lose strength at the creature's presence.
I looked out through the bars as the usual screams began to wreck my mind. Every time, every single time, it was awful. It felt as if entire chunks of my mind were being ravaged and ripped away. My mind cowered from the physical and emotional pain. I just couldn't become used to the mental agony their dark powers inflicted. In fact, it felt like it was only getting worse each time, scraping away more and more of what made me, well, me. Knowing I was slowly, inescapably losing myself was an awful, terrible thing. It was knowledge that I did not want.
The cold of the floor added to the heinous cold that was invading my mind from the power of the Dementors. I was shivering again, and no amount of effort could stop it.
"No. No, please no."
I looked out of my cell towards the scratchy voice. She was across the hall, next to the cell immediately across from mine. Like me, she had also fallen near the bars of her cell, her dirty brown hair spilling out of the little room and into the hallway. Her eyes were sunken and she had dark smudges easily visible under them. Her skin was dirty from being on the floor. I kept starring at her even as my vision began to darken. Her head rocked side to side in denial against the oncoming horror. Suddenly the woman looked up with a snap of her head that almost looked painful. Our eyes met; my green ones with her soft brown ones. With a sharp movement, she might have bared her teeth at me, but I couldn't quite tell. I could not pull my eyes from hers. My vision narrowed further, until all I could see were her brown eyes. The screams that always seemed to be running through my mind quieted. For the first time since I had arrived, the screams from my past were gone. Silent.
The silence didn't last long.
"You worthless bitch! Don't turn away from me! Come here!"
"We're done, Cormick. If you weren't such an asshole, we'd have been fine. Just let me get my things and you can get back to your drinking."
"The hell we're done!"
"You get away from me you bastard! Stop! I said STOP!"
The blackness in my head receded, and I got a picture of what was going on and what the voices connected to.
A young woman and a man were obviously fighting in a small living area. The woman was strong-looking; her eyes glared her hate and anger at the man before her. The man, on the other hand, was rather unkempt. He had a wobble in his step which bespoke of indulgence in alcohol. His face was a red hue, either from drinking too many spirits or his anger.
The two were struggling against each other near the door of the room. The man obviously had the advantage of bulk against the woman, especially in a physical fight. However, this advantage didn't last long.
"Rumpere nasum!" The woman's hair flared around her face as she spun out of the grip and brought up her wand.
The effect was immediate, and soon the drunken man was holding his nose and cursing. Instead of stopping him, the curse enraged him further and he took out his own wand.
"Cado. Coquam sanguis! Obturatio cor!" she screamed as she saw his wand. The man was able to avoid the first, but the next two spells hit him. With no shield to dampen the effects, he fell to the ground, unmoving.
The woman stood for a moment, simply staring at the body lying in front of her on the floor. Slowly shakes began, starting in her hands and then crawling up her arms until she was shaking everywhere. She fell to the floor with a sob, but continued staring at the body of the man she once knew with anger in her eyes.
"Never again." She pointed her wand at the body and set it aflame with tears still on her cheeks, but triumph in her eyes.
I came back to myself with a lurch. It felt as if my head was spinning where I lie and I nearly vomited at the discomfort. I saw a black cloaked thing roaming the hall. It radiated everything that I could possibly relate to horror, and the screams in my mind returned with a vengeance. This time, they were screams that I was quite familiar with. I was pulled under by the thing's power still trying to figure out what had happened.
What had I just seen?
.
.
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Okay now. We've gotten somewhere, and had at least a bit of fun.
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