This chapter's suggestion: Enslavement of a Hero by Lorteck. This is a wonderful story with Snape accidentally becoming enslaved to Harry, and both being required to adjust to this change and the strange new balance of power.

The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make absolutely no money from these stories.

For those who pay closer attention, I've left hints. Also, I'm going to torture you with this chapter… enjoy!

On the Wrong Side of Sanity

Chapter 16: Back Again?

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life:

it goes on.

-Robert Frost

"Oh, Harry! Why…why on Earth did you come back? It's not safe here! Haven't you heard?" She looked terrified for a moment, but she had experienced my luck a lot during the course of our friendship, and her look turned exasperated. "Oh, the things you get yourself into…" She trailed off with a faraway look for a moment, before once more getting worried. Her vacillating emotions threw me for a bit of a loop.

I stared at the panicking friend in front of me with little comprehension, but a growing sense of worry and irritation.

"What's happened now?" I asked, already very sure that I wouldn't like the answer.

"Harry, you ran away! The Ministry took it as a confession of guilt, and sent out orders for your capture." Her tone was angry, accusing, and also scared. "What you need to understand is that the population assumes you've lost your mind. Either that, or that you did deserve to be thrown in Azkaban in order to keep the public safe from your dark tendencies." The last bit Hermione spat out in disgust.

I couldn't help but stare. "Dark tendencies? Dark tendencies?! How stupid are these people?"

Hermione sighed, starting to get a hold on her emotions so that she could explain things. "Harry, they've lost all faith in you. It's not entirely your fault, I know, but using such a dark curse when defending yourself against that…that bitch just destroyed their already shaky belief in you as a Hero." Hermione sighed again and sat down at her desk once more while gazing out of the window and out into the gloom of the darkening sky. "Harry, they think you let them down as an idol. As a hero. The public is a lot less forgiving of those that are put upon a pedestal."

"I never wanted to be on their stupid pedestal!" I responded, admittedly louder than necessary. Some glass on the desk fell off and shattered on the floor, but I paid it no mind. Wind seemed to play with the window curtain, setting it to dance. Somehow, for no reason, it only encouraged my anger and my frustration with people who wanted me to be someone I was not.

Hermione gave me a strange look that I could not decipher. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't have the courage. The waiting got to me rather quickly.

"What!?" It was probably more snappish than she deserved, but I was on edge.

"Harry, that…man that looks like you has been sighted some more. Along with more attacks." She looked at me more closely for a moment. "He really looks a lot like you. Even sounds like you…"

"You…you can't honestly believe that it's me?" I was absolutely flabbergasted. Hermione sat back, her seemingly relaxed posture concealing her stress over the whole situation. Her hand running through her hair and mussing it gave her away easily.

"Of course not. I know you wouldn't go around like that creating such chaos and pain. It's just…I've seen him; he looks, and even honestly sounds like you. He's mocked us, me and Ron. Like he knew us. We actually ended up putting some intent-based wards up to make sure that someone wishing us harm can't easily get through. I just don't know how he's doing it. Or who it actually is."

"No ideas?"

"Not yet. But Harry, that's not your biggest problem. You shouldn't be here. Really shouldn't be here. I can't even be sure that the house isn't being watched for the simple reason that I'm your friend." Hermione said with a worried glance outside.

"I'll be fine." It wasn't me being arrogant that made me say it. What else would I tell her? That I'm staving off a panic attack simply because I don't want look weak in front of her? I was good with dealing with fast-paced things, like being surrounded by giant spiders in a dark forest. This political crap that could get my friends taken down felt out of my league. Everything seemed surprisingly easier when I could still hide away in Hogwarts and stay mostly protected from the actions of the Ministry.

"Harry! You don't understand! It's like it was with Sirius; they have a Kiss-On-Sight order! Dementors, Harry! Even though the Order keeps trying to tell them that the Dementors can't be trusted." Hermione got up and made her way back to the kitchen that I had walked through earlier and I followed behind her. She started readying a pot of tea and placed two cups on the counter.

"Harry, the Order never expected this from Scrimgeour, but he seems to be actively working against the Order. He's handling the Aurors well enough, but he keeps rebuffing attempts from the Order to help the war effort. He's been saying that it's not an officially accepted group, and thus has no authority. We weren't expecting this from the new Minister of Magic. It's like he can't stand sharing authority over different groups with Albus. We don't even know why he actually decided to go after you, even though you did use an Unforgivable. It's like having Barty Crouch as the Minister." Hermione shook her head. The tea was finally ready, so she went ahead and poured the tea for us. It was a nice, calming blend, and I couldn't help but feel how nice it was to be back having some tea with an old friend. Still, I had an inquiry to make.

"I didn't just stop by to visit."

"Well? What do you need?" she asked as she took a seat at the tiny oval kitchen table, looking to have finally calmed down from her slight paranoia that Aurors or Dementors would burst through the door to grab me.

I had to smile as I saw her interest take over.

"Well, years ago, I found out that I could give Kreacher an order and he had to listen –."

"You were able to give orders to a Black Family Elf?!" she interrupted in surprise.

"Yeah, that's why they were still able to use Grimmauld Place as the Headquarters, I thought I would have told you back then." I can't say that I cared about the ugly building too much, or what it was used for.

"That makes sense," Hermione nodded. "Otherwise it would have gone to…oh, go on Harry." She smiled sheepishly for interrupting again.

"Well, when I went to America," her eyes widened in surprise, but she kept herself from interjecting again, "I had a House Elf, erm…Dippy. Yeah, a House Elf called Dippy appeared and said I was a Black heir or something. He even showed me a house that was in Salem." I paused in order to try to get my thoughts back on what I wanted to ask, but I wasn't quite fast enough.

"Well, of course! You'd only be able to give orders to a Family Elf if you had authority given to you. There are no more paternal line Blacks heirs left, so it must be down to you. I wonder if Sirius had something to do with that…" Hermione trailed off to see if I had anything else to say. I smiled fondly before continuing.

"Well, I know Sirius did something. Dumbledore let me know that a while ago. Before…everything. Anyway, the elf said that all Ancient and Noble Houses have a ton of properties. I figured to ask about the House of Potter. Well, in short, Potter is a Noble House, but not an Ancient and Noble House. I guess I just don't know what that means…" I finished rather lamely.

"Oh! That's easy! A Noble House has to do with money and stature, while an Ancient House needs to have all that for a number of generations. I don't know if there can be a house that is only ancient, I'd have to look that up. I could –."

"Hermione!" I decided to interrupt her before she got too far off-topic. "I just really need to find out if I have properties, as well as duties that I don't know of…" I trailed off when her eyes shot open in surprise again. "Hermione?"

"No one told you?" she asked. I raised my eyebrow at her. "Oh, wow. Um, well you were supposed to have contact with Gringots back in fifth year to start planning for your financial future. It was mostly by owl, but…that's when I first opened my own Gringotts account. I heard some older families taught their heirs about family investments and such. I didn't have any, obviously." She gave me an uncomfortable look. "I'm not sure about anything specific about your family…families. You'd have to speak to Gringotts about that."

"How did you find out about all of this?"

Hermione stared into her cup trying to reclaim the memories from years ago. "It had to have been Professor McGonagall; she acted as my guardian in the magical world."

"Do you know who should have told me about it?" I prodded, feeling the absolute need to know the answer. Who else could be hiding things from me?

"It depends, Harry. Do you know who your magical sponsor is? It's usually the one who first introduced you to the magical word…"

"That was Hagrid, Hermione…" I replied with skepticism.

"Oh, right." Hermione blushed for a moment, most likely in embarrassment for not remembering. Not that she was required to, since it was such a small bit of information, but that was just her. She always had expected herself to have and remember all of the information that she had ever learned. "Well, I doubt it's him, then. Not that he's a bad type…"

"I know, Hermione. He'd probably not be allowed, anyway. He never completed his OWLs."

"Well," she started in an upbeat voice, obviously trying to cheer me up, "you could check with Gringotts for that, too. They tend to stay neutral in politics, so they would likely not report you, but…" she trailed off, clearly rethinking the idea. I decided to butt in before she tried forbidding me.

"I can disguise myself. Besides, that's already a couple of things that I need to ask them about. And, while I'm there, I can take the opportunity of filling my coin pouch up again. I've spent quite a bit in my, uh, travels." Honestly, I was most interested in whatever answers I could get from them. "Portkeys are more expensive than you could ever imagine."

"Portkeys? Why are you taking…Oh! You never got to learn to apparate! No wonder!" she exclaimed. "Well," she paused, unsure about whatever she was going to say next. With a deep breath, she pulled herself together and simply asked "Do you want me to make one for you, then? It's really best if you don't stay in the country."

I raised my eyebrows at her in surprise.

"When did you learn to make Portkeys? Also, you know that would be against the law, right?" She had certainly changed quite a bit from the girl that had been more afraid of getting expelled than of getting killed.

"Harry, simply talking to you is just about illegal now," she replied with a small glare. "Besides, the Order taught me. It's dead useful when you're part of an illegal 'vigilante group'." I laughed at that, mostly because it was true.

"Well, that would work, then. As long as it doesn't get you in trouble." She rolled her eyes, but I was serious. I wouldn't have her getting in any more trouble than she might be for helping me.

"Where would you want to go?" she asked in curiosity. I shrugged a bit, not having a clear idea.

"Somewhere warm, I guess," I replied. She smiled.

"I can do that. I'll look into some places that have some magical areas and are far from Britain. You won't be able to take it from here, though. You'll want to be outside. And make sure you're not somewhere that the muggles, or really anyone, can see you." She was obviously worried about me, but she hid it quite well. "Also, it'll be a timed one. I'm not as good with the password Portkeys: the farther away they go, the less reliable they are."

"Alright, so I'll go check out Gringotts and then come back here for the Portkey."

"Harry, Gringotts isn't such a great idea, there are—"

"Hermione, I'll be disguised, and—"

"Harry! Glamours won't work well there! They might not work at all!" she finally exclaimed in order to get me to stop and listen.

"Alright. I'll go disguised the muggle way. It worked last time." I reasoned. She still looked uncomfortable with the idea. "I do need these answers. Someone is keeping me from the answers to so many questions. From my heritage, even." I could see as she gave up the argument.

"Just please be careful, okay? I'll leave the Portkey in the mailbox in case I'm not here or asleep when you get back. Here's the key, just leave it in the box when you're done. Ron's going to be upset that he missed you." She paused, seeming to be trying to remember anything else that she needed to tell me. "I'll set the time for midnight, so make sure you're back before then. Gringotts doesn't ever close, so you'll need to keep an eye on the time yourself. Please just be careful."

I nodded, hoping that my agreement actually set her mind at ease. I wasn't allowed to leave until I had accepted some more muggle clothing and suffered through her applying light makeup on me to try to disguise the telltale scar. And then, finally, I was off, once more using the Floo system.

…

I tripped this time, but still stayed on my feet. Just like the last time, I had to wait a moment for the dizziness to dissipate before continuing on my way. It was truly dark by now, but I still had hours before I needed to get back for the Portkey.

The streets still had some business going on, but it had certainly thinned out. I made my way over to the stately building housing the British Wizarding Bank, glad to see that there weren't any lines to wait in. I approached a teller, taking a second to take in the general emotion that they exuded. It was hard to clearly tell, but they all seemed both impatient and irritated. It was impossible to figure out why with the short bit of time I had to myself to consider it.

"Business?"

"I need to withdraw money from my vault, and I have some questions concerning a magical sponsor and my heir duties," I spat out quickly, hoping not to forget anything.

"Key."

I handed it over quickly, quite glad that it had been returned to me after being released from the prison. The wait as the goblin inspected the key and called over another to help out with something was awful. My forehead itched something horrible as whatever cream Hermione had applied dried, and I had to wonder why any girl would suffer through this on a regular basis as I attempted to ease the itch. Also, I was feeling jumpy by being forced to wait in the lobby, even with only a sparse flow of other customers.

Soon enough, the goblin was back with my key. He gave me something like a considering look that made me feel even more uncomfortable, and then finally escorted me to a private room with an older-looking goblin sitting behind a desk.

"So, Mr. Potter. You have questions."

…

I walked out into the lobby doing my best not to let the stride turn into more of a childish stomp. I was upset, angry, pissed-off, furious, and any other related adjective that I couldn't think of at the moment. I already had the money that I needed in my ever-light money pouch, so I simply headed for the large doors to the Alley. I had to talk to Hermione again to try to work through some of it. I didn't care if she was awake or not, I couldn't handle this all on my own.

I went once more through the Floo, and for once the dizziness really didn't bother me. I shouldn't have worried about whether or not Hermione was awake or not. Of course she would have stayed up for this; she probably knew that I'd need to talk to her. She was sitting in the kitchen still, with her hair flying around her face in a dance all its own and a slightly concerned look on her face.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fucking pissed is what I am. It was Dumbledore, of course. I really should have known, seeing the kind of history that he has with this kind of thing, and of course since it was all related to me, that probably makes it all ok for him. I mean it's like—"

"Harry! What is it?" Hermione finally interjected. Something had been knocked over, and I couldn't remember doing it. I took a deep breath in an attempt to wrestle back some semblance of emotional control.

"Dumbledore was my sponsor. He not only never told me about any of my responsibilities to my own house, or that I even had duties for the House of Black, but he lied about it to the goblins! He told them that I was fully informed about everything and had decided to allow him to handle things for now. That's why they never contacted me! He encouraged them to go to him with any and all concerns." I threw myself into the chair left out for me.

Hermione was simply staring at me with a look that was a combination of worry and sorrow. She opened her mouth to say something, but I wasn't ready to let her. I had more to share, first.

"Hermione, he's been paying the Dursleys, from my account, to get them to take care of me. Merlin, if he had at least told me that much, I could have maybe gotten the stupid family to back off of being such assholes with the threat of losing an easy source of income!" That about finished off the list of wrongs I'd been compiling.

"Harry, everyone makes mistakes," Hermione replied, obviously trying to absorb all of this and still not lose the nearly perfect image she had of the venerable Headmaster. It was easy to see, however, that she was bothered by it. To her, withholding so much important information, especially that which was so closely related to me, was the worst sin of all.

"Being the apparent heir of two families, both of which have at least some standing in the world, means that I have responsibilities that I just can't ignore. As it is, according to the goblins, I've already fucked up and started losing the respect of some of the other families. It's not that I care so much about the respect itself, but that could mean the end of family alliances that I never even knew about. I need all of the support I can fucking get, and he's been letting me squander opportunities for years! I could have had support from outside of Hogwarts to help me through some of the stupid political shit!" It was liberating, being able to rant about it all. I felt that I needed it, and I was glad that my friend hadn't tried to stop me. I was finally winding down now. "This is more than a mistake. It's like he doesn't care if I ruin my family name, or if I have any support outside of the Order."

Hermione might have had something else to say on the matter, but we were interrupted. The sound of the Floo had us both jumping up in fright. It was seemingly unwarranted, however, when only a scrap of paper with slightly smoldering edges fluttered through and floated to the floor. Hermione dashed over and picked up the note, eyes wide. After a second, she shoved it at me before abruptly apparating out of the room and leaving me awkwardly standing alone in her kitchen. I looked down at the note and then closed my eyes.

…

~Harry seen at Gringotts. Aurors sent out. Kwic response.

…

I didn't understand it all, but I certainly understood enough. A second later, Hermione was back and pushing a baseball cap at me.

"You need to run, now!" she said with authority.

"What's kwic?" I asked, assuming that the cap was my Portkey and putting it snugly on my head.

"They're going to use deadly force. No attempt at all to capture you. Ron can try to help since he'll be part of the force, but you know that they likely won't be placing him in the group most likely to cross you. You need to get out of here, and stay unseen. There's still nearly half an hour until that Portkey activates, and I don't think you should stay here and try to wait for me to be able to finish another one. Now go! They'll be here soon to check out this apartment. Get away from the Floo afterwards. They'll be able to track it." After a quick, desperate hug, I was pushed towards the fireplace.

I came out in Knockturn Alley, not quite willing to trust that the Aurors weren't already all over the main Floo in Diagon Alley. I took off at a fair pace in the opposite direction of the main alley, weaving through foot traffic that was surprisingly thick for this time of night. Every face that I saw, each person that I passed, looked like a threat. My hand was gripped tightly around my wand. I was trying my best to be ready for what my luck would turn up. With a glance behind me to see if I was being followed, I turned down the first available side alley, which was extremely dark and twisted. Soon there were lights shining down on the path that surprisingly led to some kind of park. It couldn't be much longer until the Portkey activated, took a moment to consider the rather pleasant space and wonder whether or not I was in the muggle section again. I wrapped my arms around me to attempt to keep me warm, but it didn't work. I considered casting a warming charm but didn't want to let myself be distracted while I should be keeping myself ready for defense.

It took a moment to realize that the warming charm wouldn't have helped me anyway.

They were coming for me, but I could do this. I could do this, just as I had before. The chill crept through me as I fumbled to put my mind in the right mindset to produce my patronus.

And then I was back in Azkaban, on the cold floor of my dingy little cell; the shakes preventing me from crawling to the bed. My fears and weakness getting to me and making me lose all hope.

It couldn't have all been a dream, could it? How long have I been here, fantasizing about being out in the world and exploring places that I had never seen before? I never thought I could feel as low as I did right then. It had all been so real, so real and so wonderfully freeing. And that must be it. I was trapped in my own little slice of Hell that was so awful, with such a strong wish to be free that my brain finally complied.

It was all made up.

All a fantasy of my muddled, abused, dying brain. Was I going insane just like all of the others in this awful prison? I could hear them screaming away in their cells right next to mine as if they had never stopped. I was crying. Crying and laughing hysterically all at once. I bet I screamed just like them.

Did any of them enter my mind to escape the torment of the Dementors? Was it even possible, or did I make that up too?

What of my friends? Did they just forget my existence the second I was thrown in Azkaban? I wished I was back out again, exploring those amazing countries. If that was insanity, then let it come. Please.

It was so much better than this awful reality.

I was going to die here, and there was nothing I could do about it. I just wanted to slip back into my insanity, to enjoy what time I had left with memories or fantasies about being free, and with my friends who still cared about me. Just let me die with that.

Just that, it's all I asked as I screamed and cried and laughed and died.

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So, what do you think of it?