Author's Note: Certain lines from OotP have been used for timing issues. You'll recognize them. Thanks goes to the guys at DLPirc for helping me work out how best to drive Harry insane. Yes, this story will have a disjointed timeline, now find out how Harry and Cho get pushed over the edge. 

Chapter Two

A Touch of Insanity

"Li-Li, are you coming out of your room today?" the muffled voice of her father sounded from outside the door.

Cho sat on the floor, in the corner between her bed and the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her hands were held tightly around her knees and several wet tissues littered the floor in front of her. It had been four weeks since she had returned from Hogwarts with the knowledge that Cedric had been brutally slain. Try as she might she couldn't rid herself of the image of his cold, blank eyes staring back at her from the ground below the stands as she witnessed his return with Harry. A return that the headmaster signaled as the beginning of dark times once more.

A soft knock sounded once more. "Li-Li, it is not healthy for you to stay in your room day after day."

Her father had been more than accommodating. Ever since the death of her mother almost a decade ago, giving birth to her younger sister, he had raised them alone. Quitting his job and surviving solely on his savings had been a challenge, but in two years she would be graduating Hogwarts. She planned on staying on until her sister started school so that he could go back to work and not have to worry about their finances.

"I will allow you until noon, and then you must return to us, Li-Li. It does the living no good to dwell on death. You do yourself no good, and dishonor the memory of Cedric by secluding yourself."

She listened as his footsteps carried away from the door, and then she sighed in relief. Cho loved her father, dearly, but sometimes he could be so unreasonable. The love of her life had just died and she had been left alone. What else was she supposed to do? She was a mediocre Witch with mediocre power. Her one chance at a better life had laid in the hands of her now dead boyfriend, her truest love.

The sound of breaking glass shook Cho from her self-pity. Her eyes locked onto the bedroom door as she waited.

"Chang! Take another step and you will die where you stand."

Cho's eyes went wide in fear.

"What do you want?" her father said defiantly.

"We are tired of waiting. Do you have the item?" the man's asked with a demanding voice.

"I know what you want it for," her father answered. "I will not stand by as you try to kill a schoolchild."

Concern raced through Cho's mind. What had her father gotten mixed up with?

"Potter will die before the beginning of the school year," the man threatened. "What remains to be seen is whether or not you and your children will join him or not."

"Coward, you would threaten my family?"

Laughter followed after and then the scrambling of feet. Cho's eyes went wide. She flattened herself on the floor and was just barely able to slide under her bed. The door to her room slammed open. She saw two pairs of feet enter for a moment and then leave right after heading down to her sister's room. Tears fell from her eyes. Father will stop them.

A high pitched scream sounded from down the hall and Cho watched as her sister darted into her room and try to slam the door on her pursuers. As luck would have it, a seven year old girl was no match for the strength of a fully grown man. She held the door for all of two seconds before being thrown back to the floor as it was pushed open again. Cho flinched as her sister hit the floor crying.

"Papa!"

Two more pairs of booted feet entered the room. "Prop him up and make sure he can watch."

Her sister's body was lifted up and thrown on the bed. The sound of tearing fabric sent jolts of terror through Cho's body. They wouldn't … she's only seven!  The high pitch screams only continued until Cho heard a slap of flesh against flesh and then there was silence. The bed pressed down heavily against her back pinning her securely to the floor. Then it shifted.

"Damn she's tight," the man's voice said with slight exertion. "You like watching this Chang? Too bad that other little bitch of yours isn't here. I'd bet that she'd like a real man."

The bed bounced downward digging into Cho's back again and again until an anguished groan was uttered from the rapist's lips. When the weight shifted once more she saw a booted foot step from the bed and pause as she listened to the foul and evil creature doing up his trousers.

"Goyle, you want a turn?"

Another man laughed. "She's dead, Crabbe. You know I don't like it when you choke them to death. That's why I like to go first."

"Bah," Crabbe replied. "Better than nothing at all." After a brief pause he laughed again. "Oh, look at Chang here trying his level best to throw off the body bind."

He walked over to Cho's father. "Oh, I have an idea. Go and get one of those Chin blades I saw on the mantle above the floo."

When Goyle left, Crabbe stepped up to the bed and grabbed Cho's dead sister to lay her on the floor in an abrupt manner. He spread her legs and tilted her head toward the bed. Cho froze and stared into the vacant eyes, frozen, accusing. Her breath sped up as she tried to keep absolutely silent lest she were to suffer a similar fate. Her father was next. After being dragged over, his knees were bent and he was placed between his daughter's legs, his trousers dropped, and his right hand placed on her throat.

No, no, no, no, no, no, the mantra repeated in Cho's mind.   

Goyle's footsteps sounded his return. "This the one you talking about?"

"Yeah, give it," the excited voice answered.

"What are you doing?"

A chuckle was returned. "Well when the Auror's get here they're gonna find that Chang went a little off, and fucked his daughter to death. But at the last second she was able to kill her attacker."

Blood splattered her sister's face a second later and the body of her father was dropped across her and landed at the edge of the bed, only inches next to Cho. She could see his eyes widen in either recognition or in panic at being cut. Cho flinched when blood pooled at an alarming rate, widening out and around, closing in toward where she lay.

"There, now we won't have to worry about any inquiring minds or connections to the Dark Lord."

A soft chuckle came from Goyle's direction. "Crabbe, you are a demented genius," Goyle said with admiration. "Everyone knows how perverted these Chins are. Won't be a second thought as to what happened."

Full fledged panic set in as her father's blood had closed in and she had no more room to retreat without exposing herself to the murderers. She raised her arm and watched as it progressed, soaked into her white blouse and her lace bra underneath soiling the last remnants of Cho's innocence. Tears dropped heavily and she held the vocal cries of sorrow.

"Now, to see if there is anything in this sorry excuse of a house that is worth our time."

Cho's mouth opened in a horror-filled silent scream of terror as she listened to their boots trod all over her father's house while she lay in his rapidly cooling blood. It had seemed like hours since the two of them had walked away. Eventually the weariness in her arms and neck forced her to drop her head into the now cool blood. Her eyes stayed locked on to her father's. The smell of spent urine and feces rent the air, pushing her that much further into the now blank whiteness that was her mind until she closed her eyes and succumbed to the inevitable darkness that was escape.      

O_o

Little Whinging, Surrey

Harry stood stock still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense he was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up - he opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

It was impossible… they couldn't be here… not in Little Whinging… he strained his ears… he would hear them before he saw them…

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do-?"

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed, "I'm trying to lis-"

But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading.

There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air.

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Dudley, shut-"

WHAM.

A fist made contact with the side of Harry's head, lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. The next moment, he had landed hard on the ground and his wand had flown out of his hand.

"You moron, Dudley!" Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain as he scrambled to his hands and knees, feeling around frantically in the blackness. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling.

"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

His words fell on panicked and deaf ears for Dudley ran straight into the slimy, scab-filled arms of the Dementor. Without a second's pause the horrible creature hauled his cousin off the ground and slammed its lips onto Dudley's."

Harry stared in terror for only a few seconds before dropping to his knees and scrambling around in desperate search for his wand. Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders. "Where's - wand - come on - Lumos!"

He said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help him in his search - and to his disbelieving relief, light flared inches from his right hand - the wand tip had ignited. Harry snatched it up, scrambled to his feet and turned around.

His stomach turned over. A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.

Stumbling backwards, Harry raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery wisp of vapor shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; tripping over his own feet, Harry retreated further as the Dementor bore down upon him, panic fogging his brain - concentrate -

A pair of grey, scabbed hands slid from inside the Dementor's robes, reaching for him. A rushing noise filled Harry's ears. Its soul-sucking mouth was only a scant foot away. He jabbed his wand forward in the creature's face, noticing in some ethereal way that he had shoved his wand into its mouth.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Everything stopped for the barest breadth of a single second. White light exploded in Harry's face as his Patronus forced its way down the gullet of the hideous creature, then all went dark. The Dementor stopped short, its mouth half-closed, until it convulsed. It reached out and slammed its hands onto Harry's head with crushing force. A loud high-pitched wail was emptied into his face before a second convulsion wracked the Dementor's body.

Harry screamed in terror and tried his wand again, but knew deep inside that there was no way he would be able to produce a single happy thought. His mouth was open wide with his screams and that's when the Dementor lost control, spewing forth its innards all over Harry's face and in his mouth. The young wizard choked on the vileness of it all,  suffocating him, trying, gasping for breath, only to swallow a mouthful of whatever foul essence the Dementor was spewing.

Then it hit him; thoughts of murderous rage, despair, hate, lust, and unparalleled wrath welled up inside Harry. The memories were next: some of the most foul criminal souls ever to be captured by the Ministry and given the Dementor's Kiss were being poured into Harry's mind driving him to the edge of his sanity. He tried in vain to push them out, fighting them in every way he knew how, but in the end knowing that there was no way to fight.

His screaming tore through the night.

O_o

"There's no telling what the side-effects of such a event will have on the boy," said an unfamiliar voice in a whispered tone. "We'll have to see when he wakes."

Mr. Weasley's voice made itself known directly after. "You mean to say nothing like this has happened, ever?"

"Have you ever heard of a dead Dementor?" the unfamiliar voice countered. "I'm afraid we've no such record and no way of knowing if the boy lost his soul in the process. We'll-"

Harry took this moment to open his eyes and blink away the sleep crust that filled them.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said in excitement as he rushed to his side. "How are you feeling, son."

Harry sat up as the unknown man in the room added an additional pillow to help. He rubbed at his eyes and answered, his voice raw. "Like someone's shat in my mouth."

"Excellent!" the unknown man said with a happy tone.

Harry scowled at him in return.

"Sorry, I'm Healer Farrow," he explained. "We were worried that you had been kissed. Feeling anything at this moment is very good news."

"Right," said Harry doubtfully.

Mr. Weasley shifted left and then back again, impatiently. "Harry, can you tell us what happened?"

Harry looked at the Weasley patriarch. "Dementor."

o_O

Number 12 Grimmauld Place

The fetid taste in Harry's mouth had not gone away. What he assumed was the worst case of morning breath in the world could not be brushed away with the dental charms the healer's assistant provided. He kept smacking away in a vain attempt to promote saliva production. Merlin, what I wouldn't give for a stick of gum.

Mr. Weasley set his trunk on the floor and motioned up the staircase. "Second level, Harry," he whispered. "I'm sure the kids are waiting for you."

Harry's eyebrows met in confusion. "That's it? Sorry the Dementor spewed up on you – off you go – play nice," Harry whispered harshly. "I can't even talk to Sirius?"

Mr. Weasley regarded Harry with concern. "There is a meeting of the Order tonight, which has already started. We have a lot to go over concerning the attack on you and the notice for trial. You can see Sirius afterward, if it isn't too late."

The tall, balding, redhead patted him on the head and turned to make his way downstairs. Harry screwed up his face, bent over and picked up one end of his trunk.

O_o

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT -WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?"

Every bitter and resentful thought Harry had had in the past month was pouring out of him: his frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without him, his fury at being attacked by a Dementor in Little Whinging - all the feelings he was now free to vent finally burst their boundaries.

"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME! WHO HAD TO WATCH AS HIS COUSIN'S SOUL WAS SUCKED OUT, AND WHO HAS TO GO EXPLAIN WHY HE HAD TO USE THE FECKING PATRONUS CHARM TO STOP THE SAME FECKING DEMENTOR FROM SUCKING OUT HIS OWN FECKING SOUL."

Ron was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, while Hermione looked on the verge of tears.

"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING SO I COULD PROTECT MYSELF?"

"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did –" Hermione began.

"CANT'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR –"

"Well, he did –"

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON-"

"We wanted to –"

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER? GET OUT, BOTH OF YOU!"

Hermione darted toward the door, tears pooling in her eyes. Ron's face was colored in scarlet by the time he rose from the bed, where he was sitting, and roughly brushed past Harry. "Nice, mate."

Harry slammed the door closed behind Ron and stewed in his righteous, gnawing anger. "They were supposed to be my friends," he said to himself. "Always tittering around each other," he spat. Jealousy surged forward and he stewed.

Throwing himself down on the free bed he winced at a loose spring that stabbed him in the back. "Dammit," he spat.

The nagging headache Harry had been experiencing, on and off, since the night of Voldemort's resurrection had returned. After watching Cedric's murder, the foul ritual Wormtail had performed, not to mention the appearance of his parents' shades, and being held under the Cruciatus Curse were all taking its toll on him. Having that disgusting soul-sucking creature effectively kill his cousin and vomit in his face seemed to finally snap what ever reserve of control he possessed. Resentment and hate bubbled up at almost every opportunity. Thoughts of revenge against those that made his life what it was now dominated his waking mind. "Send a Dementor to kill me -- Ha!"

He now had names to assign blame, Death Eater names, as well as their leader. They would be paying the price for their complicity, for Harry Potter now had a goal set for his life, vengeance.

o_O

The day of the hearing, in front of the Wizengamot, was full of revelations. Foremost, that the Minister of Magic, and the Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge were firmly on the side of sticking their head in the sand and their asses in the air. Easier for Lucius Malfoy to lube them up with his charm and nonexistent wit and then to firmly fuck them into submission. 

As each moment of the trial went on Harry progressively became more and more irritated. Voldemort was clearly against him, his merry band of Death Eaters were against him, and now his own government that was sworn to protect him was against him. If it weren't for the even-handedness of Amelia Bones he didn't actually think he would have a chance to walk out of there. Now all there was left was a vote.

"Oh, yea," Harry cursed under his breath. "I'm innocent. Fancy that."

Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well… cleared of all charges."

"Excellent,'" said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. "Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all."

And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.

Great, Harry thought. Now Dumbledore thinks I'm a leper.

He turned back around in the chain-laden chair hoping to get the attention of Fudge one last time. Instead he was met with toad-like gaze of Dolores Umbridge. She took his measure, and her face squinched up in what Harry thought was her idea of an intimidating leer. He leaned to the side on the arm of his chair and rubbed his nose with two fingers. Harry saw her reaction at his insult and he smiled back.

Getting up from the chair his look turned hateful and hard. Then he spun on his heel and made his way out the door. Mr. Weasley, who was outside the courtroom waiting, looked pale and apprehensive.

"Dumbledore didn't say – "

"Cleared," Harry said as he undid the top button on his shirt. "Of all charges."

"I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news," he said, beckoning Harry forward. Mr. Weasley paused for a moment and patted the pockets of his robes. "One quick stop to make at my office. I've forgotten the directions to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on."

They had just reached the ninth-level corridor and Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face.

The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He, too, broke off in mid-conversation, his cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry's face.

"Well, well, well… Patronus Potter," said Lucius Malfoy coolly.

Harry cocked his head and smirked. "Malfoy, slumming again I see." He was doubly sure Fudge knew his opinion of him now. "Come to get your gold back? Fudge wasn't able to deliver the verdict you paid him for."

The Minister huffed and took a step forward but was held back by Malfoy and his cane/sword/wand/vibrating phallic symbol, whatever it was, guessed Harry. "Best to watch the mouth on this one Weasley. Nothing that a good caning wouldn't cure, I'm sure."

"You want to keep your sexual perversions to yourself, Malfoy?" snarled Harry.

Mr. Weasley set his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Harry has a mind of his own."

They continued on down the hallway when Harry turned. "Oh and Fudge? You might want to wash your cloak after Malfoy touched you with that cane of his." Harry gave him his best wary look. "I've heard that he like to use it as a sexual aide with his Death Eater buddies."

Mr. Weasley spun Harry around and hurried him to the lift.  "You really ought to curb that temper of yours, Harry. The Minister and Lucius Malfoy are powerful men; they can make your life very difficult."

Harry stopped as they reached the lift and Mr. Weasley pressed the call button. "You're joking, right? My life – difficult?"

The ride back up to the second level was quiet as Mr. Weasley pondered the inner workings of the modern day English sewage system, and Harry brooded over how best to seek his revenge on the Ministry, Voldemort, and the large group of Death Eaters. He knew that no matter how he worked out the scenarios he always wound up dead in the end. There was only so much a angry fifteen year old wizard could do without the use of his magic beyond school grounds. Even if he could survive actually destroying the lives of those involved, with magic, Harry knew a simple check of his wand would result in his arrest. No, I couldn't be the one to do the actual magic. 

As they exited the lift, Mr. Weasley pointed out a row of chairs along several cubicles where Harry could wait while he retrieved his directions.  Harry sat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

"Never seen anything like it," a basso voice sounded over his shoulder behind one of the cubicles. "Who'd believe Chang had it in him to rape his own kid."

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he held himself back from spinning around to find out the details of what the Auror was talking about.

"Which one was it," a female voice asked.

"The youngest. Barely seven years old."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," the female said in revulsion.

There were a few moment of silence, apparently until the female could get herself under control. "Does the older girl know?"

The basso voice answered in regret. "She witnessed the entire thing."

"Oh, Merlin."

"We found her underneath the bed nearly catatonic. She was laying in a pool of her father's blood."

Harry heard a loud swallow. "Merlin, now I think I really am going to be sick."

"You can't let it get to you, Tonks. You're going to see awful things on this job." The basso voice continued. "Anyway, they have her at St. Mungo's now. It's in their hands."

Harry's eyes darted back toward Mr. Weasley's office and without thinking further Harry checked to make sure nobody was watching and made his way, quickly, to the lift.

O_o

Harry was able to lose himself fairly easy in the coming and going of Ministry workers as he made his way to the row of fireplaces lining one wall of the Atrium level. He noted the tray of floo powder to one side and kept his head down while he waited his turn. It wouldn't do to be captured making his first escape from his Order guard. He kept looking back, over his shoulder, waiting for someone to spot him or yell across the atrium –

"Harry!"

He spotted Mr. Weasley exiting the lift and running in his direction. Harry couldn't wait any longer and rushed forward at the tray of floo powder. He grabbed a handful and shouldered a middle-aged wizard aside.

"Hey!"

Harry didn't bother apologizing. Instead he ran into the green flame and tossed the powder down to his feet. "St. Mungo's," he said as loud as he dared without announcing his destination to everyone within hearing distance.