Mrgigglegirl 14, Just Another Aceves and Mieszak, I hereby dedicate this chapter to you! You are the reason I started working on this chapter sooner that I would have otherwise! Thank you for your reviews! (Hopefully this chapter is a little more exciting for you.)

Now, let's start this baby off with something interesting!

Update 12/23/18 – A few additions to the story, but no change of the basics.

On the Wrong Side of Sanity

Chapter 7: Freedom of Thought

By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by

-Edgar Allan Poe, Dreamland

I slipped into a mind as soon as I felt the cold coming. It was a lot easier after so much time running away from my own head. I didn't even feel guilt about rooting through their heads anymore. That feeling had long passed when I decided that my health and sanity were more important than that sanctity of nameless peoples' minds. Hell, I was sure that the unwilling hosts didn't even notice me sharing a bit of head-space, especially with the vileness of the dark powers from the inhuman guards occupying them.

It was more than just escaping the mental effects of the Dementors, to be honest. I was actually able to learn from the minds that I invaded. Only that which I saw projected in their minds, which was a shame. Imagine if I could learn everything they knew! After I woke, I'd often practice wand movements with my hands, repeat the incantations aloud, or just repeat facts in my head over and over again while hoping to remember them later on. It wasn't as if I had much else to occupy my time in this little hellhole.

The memory that I intruded upon now was fuzzy, as if whoever I was with couldn't remember details well enough for the power of the Dementors to work as it should. I hadn't really encountered something like this before. It was strange. I could only compare it to what I imagined being on drugs or being drunk would feel like. Not pleasant at all, really. I couldn't make out most of what was happening, and the sound from the memory was distorted. Sometimes a scream would rip its way through the mesh of sound, before sliding back and becoming one with the rest of the indistinguishable noise. The memory became even fuzzier for a moment, making me feel dizzy, before returning to its previous slightly fuzzy condition.

This one must not be in good shape at all. I wasn't sure I wanted to stay, but I wanted to risk losing myself in my own memories even less.

The noise that surrounded me, which sounded more like the background noise that used to be common in large crowds, suddenly dimmed to a whisper and something began to form. It started as a darkening in one area of the blurry memory. Colors swirled and blended as if they were paint. Once straight lines now bent inwards towards the disturbance in a way that alarmed me.

What on Earth was happening? I was full of nervous energy, waiting for something that I felt I didn't want to encounter.

The area of darkness sharpened with a snap and the rest of the memory dimmed. What looked like a dog stood with me in the other person's mind. It seemed huge; at least three or four times my size. It was certainly big enough to be a problem. Its paws were bigger than my hands, and its fur was a dark, eerie green color that had no place being on a wolfish creature. Its eyes were bright, nearly shining in the surrounding dimness – and what the hell was this thing doing in someone's mind? It paid me no mind from where it stood, staring at something in the distance. Its body stood, tensely waiting for something, though I had no fucking clue what it was.

I wasn't sure what to do. Should I retreat? Should I wait? I studied it more, waiting for it to make a move. The beast glanced my way, and its ears went flat. Teeth poked out of its mouth as the creature's lips lifted in a snarl.

And then, rather suddenly, its ears perked up and it shifted in place. I glanced warily in the direction that it was staring somewhere to my right, too curious to keep my eyes on the intruder, no matter how nervous it made me. Another shape was forming, this time of a human. He was crumpled on the ground in dirty, ragged clothes that looked familiar. They were the very same type of robes that I had been forced to wear when I entered Azkaban. The man just lay there, shaking, but doing nothing else. His form seemed to swirl a bit at the edges, as if it was hard to keep together.

The beast moved, lifting its head until it was pointed straight up, the green fur of its chest puffing out. And then, the most awful, horrible sound emerged. The howl hit me as if it had a physical form. It tore through my ears, through my head and left a weakness that terrified me. My body, although not physical right now, ached everywhere. I could feel the pain as if I were awake, and it hurt. The howl lasted for what seemed like forever. When the sound finally, finally subsided, the beast that was nearly as big as a horse took one step forward. Another deep indrawn breath made me start.

I did not want to feel it a second time.

The second howl hit me just as before and left me defenseless. I had no time to escape and no time to cower before I was swept away in the terrible sound. My sight grew blurry, and the sound rang through my being again. When this one ended, the wolf-like creature took another step, and then swished its tail. I stared uncomprehendingly at the seemingly braided tail before coming back to myself.

I was getting the hell out of here.

The third howl hit me while I was working to escape this mind, no matter the cost. It halted most of my efforts immediately, but I struggled against it. I was not sticking around for this. When the howl had just about died, I was pulling out of the man's mind. For whatever reason, I looked back towards the beast one last time. It was already atop the man's form, tearing and beginning to drag him away. I felt the mind dying around me, and it was terrifying. The beast looked up from its catch and seemed ready to put it down to chase me. Its hind legs bent, ready to make a dash in my direction and take me down too, but I was already pulling out and returning to myself with relief.

When I finally woke up, I was shaking much more than usual. He had died. I had been there with him as he had died. In his goddamn mind with him. It was not something that I had wanted to experience. Not ever.

I didn't even have time to come to terms with what had happened nor time to acknowledge the traces of blood left on my pillow when the screams rose in my head. The Dementors weren't quite done with their fun yet, and I was dragged forcefully back into my worst memories. Memories to which I had just made at least a few new entries. I shuddered as the echo of the howl raced through my head. My state of semi-consciousness didn't last, and I was finally tugged under.

…

I woke slowly, exhaustion seeping into every part of my being. A glance at the wall to the side of the bed was only out of habit. I didn't bother to count the many marks scratched into the wall, nor did I take the time to make another. I had given up on that some time ago. It didn't matter anyways. I stopped to begin with because it was impossible to know how long had passed each time I woke up. I had very likely made multiple marks when it was unnecessary or skipped other days altogether. It wasn't accurate enough to continue.

My exhaustion confused me. This was quite different than usual. It wasn't until I heard the whistle of the wind outside, something which approximated the sound of a distant howl, that I remembered what had happened. My mind replayed the event in appalling detail, although the memory of that sound couldn't possibly reach the level of horror of the real thing.

What had happened? Why was that beast inside that man's mind?

I shuddered, and vowed to try to forget it. I would almost rather not find out. The bit of blood on my pillow mocked my efforts.

During the next few times that I had to contend with the Dementors, I spent time focusing on more than just the memories that I was viewing. Every time, there was something there, just out of reach. It was like I could still sense other people, even while in a mind that was not my own. They were there, but faintly. I felt obsessed with finding a way to slip from mind to mind, especially after once again coming across a mind that seemed on the verge of giving up.

That time, I pulled back well before I could come face to face with that unknown thing which dragged the previous man away. I wanted nothing to do with that.

The first time I succeeded in slipping seamlessly from one mind to another, I was almost forced out from inattention. The feeling of victory surged through me. It wasn't a happy victory, no. I felt a cold, furious victory against the creatures that tried so hard to spread fear and despair. I had won.

Never again would I be unwillingly dragged away to face things I would rather forget. It would happen no more because-

I...Had…Won!

…

I slipped into the nearest mind as soon as I felt the first chill come over me. This one was being affected by the evil power as well, so I flitted from mind to mind easily to find someone not yet immersed in their own horrors. I had developed my ability further after trying so many times to escape experiencing another mind death or a memory that happened to affect me more than usual. While the prisoners were, well, a little saner, I could actually slip deeper into their mind and learn things as I pleased. It was much more efficient than being caught in their semi-conscious fears and awful memories because I could manipulate the mind a bit more to show me what I wanted to see.

I had even discovered some branches of Magic that I had never known about before. I was even able to learn some of the basics of some of these branches. What better way to learn what not to do than watching from the sidelines as someone literally blew their head off? From these deeper and usually less emotion-ridden memories, I could pick up more information. It was a cure to the tedium that was a part of life locked away from the rest of society. What I was doing could almost be considered independent study, if classes at Hogwarts were more simple observation and information gathering rather than constant bookwork and if the classes were more…darkly oriented.

Every once in a while I wondered what happened to my body when I left it for the comfort of other minds. Did it just sit there as if I was dead? Did it seem like it was an empty house? Like an abandoned place with the lights left on but nobody home? I had never really taken the time to consider the possible consequences of what I was doing. The unknown consequences couldn't hold a candle to the benefit of just the possibility of keeping my sanity in the face of the Dementors. Although, wonder every once in a while, I did take the time to if my adventures outside of my own head had affected my mind or personality at all. Would it even matter at this point?

During my time in Hogwarts, I had certainly known of the existence of the Dark Arts, but I had never had any idea of how many different branches of magic fell under that category. Necromancy was an obvious one, and something that I still wanted nothing to do with. Some others, such as Ritual Magic and what seemed to be a magic that dealt with Parseltongue, looked like they could really be of use to me. I had tried to absorb as much as I could of any memory that related to those. I had to get out of here eventually, and when I did, I would not be taken lightly.

I'm sure the ministry would rue the day they decided that it was ok to treat me like a child or an adult depending on what suited them at the time.

I woke up from what could be called a trance and grinned. It was time for food, and I was hungry. I crawled out of the pathetic bed and over to the bowl that was just waiting for me. I finished eating in less time than it took to move over there. I was hungry, dammit. No need to worry about manners here. I laughed at that.

I dropped the bowl without a care and crawled back to the bed. The wall next to it was completely covered in scratches. There were too many to count, I didn't bother to try. Nor did I pick up the stone and make a new mark. I had given that up ages ago. There were no days or nights here. Only periods of light and periods without. It no longer mattered.

Screams woke me from my serious contemplation of the window and the wall surrounding it. I had no idea how long I had been staring, but that wasn't important.

They were coming again, and I grinned.

Let them.

.

.

.

I'm wondering if anyone can guess what the beast at the beginning of the chapter is based on!

Finally done with the Third chapter of Azkaban! Third! How will Harry ever get out of this place?! I know this one isn't quite the length of previous chapters, but this is just the note that I wanted to end it on, so it will have to do. On to the next one!