Chapter 75: Puts a BIG, BOLDED MESSAGE that the story gets very dark and weird for the next 45 chapters, so fluff readers should turn back now.
Chapters 83-85: Puts lots of CWs for reader discretion.
New Reviewer at 86: This is too angsty and dark! I feel like I was lied to! I'm leaving!
Me: …Is there even a point to leaving warnings if people aren't going to read them?

Rant over

I wonder if it's Winter?

That doesn't make sense, Melissa thought sluggishly. Three months in Azkaban, that's her punishment. She remembers that. Yet it's cold here. So cold. Have they forgotten her?

No, don't be silly. There are things to warm her here. Songs warm her. Letters warm her. Stories, too, but briefly. Yet, still, it's so cold.

Her mind, though, yes! That's her best escape from the cold. She can go there. A hundred years could pass, yet she wouldn't notice. I'd also likely freeze or starve to death, she scoffed. Better stick with songs. That's a saner way to survive.

Melissa released a breath of frozen air. A memory of plucked guitar strings filled the ears of her mind. Though cracked and weary, her voice drew in the lonely ears of the prison wing.

"I guess I have to face

That in this awful place

I shouldn't show a trace of doubt

But pulled against the grain

I feel a little pain

That I would rather do without

I'd rather be

Free, free, free

I'd rather be

Free, free, free

Free, free, free

From here"

…I'm still cold. The thought released another breath into the ether. Tendrils of white frost swirling in the darkness. Despair began to seep in.

"That song's beautiful," a voice spoke from the opposing cell. "Can…" a rustle of metal fell louder than the soft, earnest voice. "Can you teach it to us?"

His pained voice awakened pity in her, briefly banishing the despair. "Sure, I can do that."

Slowly, she recited the phrases for him to repeat. Other voices muttered along with what could be heard, bolstering some level of energy in her, despite the unending cold. It's not helping me, but at least it's helping them.

Inside her mind, a part of her sighed. I'll help them… with music and jokes, the way I always do. As much as I can, anyways. As for myself…

A new, desperate thought emerged.

Maybe it's time to try something new.

Melissa sat crossed-legged on her cot. Eyes closed, meditative, and arms pushed out so that her palms layered with the left palm facing the wall. Immersed in her thoughts, emotions bubbled before they surged forwards. With it she cried out two words. "Expecto patronum!"

The cell stayed dark.

In the cell next door, her new neighbour called out. "The hell do you think you're doing?"

Squirting an eye open, she answered. "I'm trying to do the patronus charm wandlessly."

"Wandlessly?" The incredulous tone rose. "A patronus?! You're an idiot."

"Hey, I gotta do something with my time, don't I?"

"So you're trying to cast a ridiculously hard charm in the hardest way possible."

"Not the hardest way possible. I'm saying it out loud. Plus, I've drawn a few algiz on my body to help me out."

"You drew what?"

The soft-spoken man across the lane answered. "Algiz is a rune. They're used to protect homes."

"The rune for warding off evil," Melissa added. "It's also known as the Guardian rune. Since patronuses are guardians and dementors are evil, it's the perfect rune to amplify the spell."

The new neighbour mulled over the explanation. "And it works?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on it."

The opposing lane prisoner hummed at that. "If it does, would you mind sharing it around, Bennett?"

"Sure thing." She adjusted her position, moving back into her meditative pose.

Before she could try again, the new neighbour hummed loudly. "There's one thing I don't get."

"Hmm?"

"You say you've drawn runes, right?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you use to draw them?"

On reflex, her eyes opened and looked down at her palm. The red lines of algiz displayed like an angular triton. The same could be said for the ones cut along her heart and forehead; not that anyone here would notice the colour in the darkness.

"Oh, you know, dirt and stuff."

"To battle darkness, I await a guardian, Born of joyous light!"

With another round, Darkness wins again.

"You know," her neighbour spoke, "if the actual incantation isn't working there's no way a random sentence would work."

"Technically it's a haiku, not a random sentence," Melissa answered. "But I guess you have a point."

"That spell needs a strong memory, right? Maybe you just need a different one?" The suggestion was met with silence. "Bennett?"

"Would you believe me if I said that I don't have one?"

"A cheery kid like you? Seems doubtful."

"Mmm. Guess it's just too hard a spell to work out," she muttered.

"Guess so."

Melissa sat with her back against the wall. Defeat and frustration seeping in. Adding in the suggestion, was also a shudder of fear. There are options, of course, of better memories to use. Better, and yet… is it worth the risk of losing them?

When the week's mail arrived, Melissa curled up near the hall's torchlight and ripped open the latest letter from Harry.

Dear Melly,

I hope you're doing well. I'm sending you love from Italy! Mister Salvatore's family isn't at all what I expected. They're very loud but friendly and wild but close together. It's a weird way to describe them, but it's the best I can come up with. There's also so many people in the family!

The letter went on, naming a bunch of relatives and anecdotes about them that caught Harry's fancy. Each one brought a gentle smile to her face. His excitement bounced off the page as he described various games and places they went to together. Then the letter turned curious.

One day Marcello played us something with a weird melody. I'll play the melody for you when you get out since I doubt it's one you know. It started off very happy. I liked it a lot. Though when Sirius listened to it he got really upset. I don't know why, but the way he reacted afterwards caused a few problems. Actually, you'll probably find it funny, but it caused a HUGE fight! Basically, while he was upset he went out for some drinks with the other adults and drank a lot. Too much. Don't ask me how it happened, but somehow he and the others got so drunk that he kind of, (for a little while) married Chiara.

-"Wait! WHAT?"-

Apparently both were complaining that their families are pushing each of them to get married one day, and figured marrying each other would make the perfect revenge. (I'm never getting drunk. Mark my words! It makes you act like an idiot!)

I'm surprised Rosa's family didn't kill him. She hexed him into oblivion, and their dad tried to beat him up. Even Marcello was angry at him. Luckily they got married by a muggle priest so it didn't take much to annul it. It was crazy, though! But here's the kicker, Sirius and Chiara are dating now! Don't ask me how that works. I know they get along, and something must have happened that night to think that marriage was a good idea (drunk or not). Still, it's really weird to want to date someone after a fiasco like that. Isn't it? I don't get how adults work.

Anyways, things have gotten so awkward that we've decided to cut the visit short so we're leaving tomorrow. Chiara's coming with us to Rome. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. On one hand, she's been there a lot and can show us around. On the other hand, the families are still angry with them, and I have a feeling that those two are going to be out a lot at night and sleeping in. Luckily it will just be for a while since she lives here and has a job to go back to. Hopefully the rest of the trip will be fun. I'll write and let you know how it goes.

With love,

Harry

The letter dropped to her lap, as did her face to her hand. The smile threatened to break into snickers. It took far too much willpower to force it down. Oh my god, Harry, what the hell?! The drama is too hilarious to dismiss! And yet, I must.

When Eaton Miller finished his round of letter delivery, he headed back down towards the staff room. Walking through the minimum security wing, however, he slowed to a stop on seeing an odd sight. At the edge of her cell, Bennett sat quietly with eyes closed, legs forward with one arm lying parallel on top of it, and a fingernail dragging long, slow curls down that arm. For the first time in a week, her hair was pushed away from her face, revealing scabs of odd scratch marks on her forehead. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Eaton stepped closer and spoke in the loud-quiet one would use when cautiously calling a toddler or a wild animal. "Hey, Bennett! How are you feeling?"

"Fine," the answer came with closed eyes. In small loops, the scratching continued downwards.

It's like she's writing something, he thought. Looking around, Eaton spotted an open letter on the girl's lap. "I take it the letter wasn't something good?"

"Oh, it's really funny," she said dismissively. "Too funny. I'm just trying not to think about it."

The answer made him frown, even if the logic makes sense. "So what are you thinking about, instead?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Lestrange? Why?"

"She's pretty evil, isn't she?" The girl answered. "Also loud. Makes it easier on the imagination."

Confused, Eaton tried to change her train of thought. "You can think of better people, you know." Someone not evil and every other horrible thing under the sun.

"Well, sure," Bennett shrugged, "I could always think of Dolores Umbridge, instead, but that would just make me angry."

"Umbridge?" The name is vaguely familiar. Isn't that someone in the Ministry? "How come?"

"She's the worst kind of evil." Huh?! "For me, at least. Lawful Evil, the antithesis of Chaotic Good. That makes us enemies. Even more, since I'm muggleborn. She'll put all of us in here once she gets the chance."

Eaton stood shock-still. His mind screamed confusion, trying to understand what the kid was going on about. She is a kid, though. The thought grounded him. A kid thrown into the worst kind of Hell. …and it's breaking her.

In the silence, her eyes snapped open. "Oh! Don't worry about it! Nothing like that's going to happen," the girl rambled, offering him a bright smile. "Just my imagination making up stupid things. Like I said, I've been distracting myself with weird thoughts, you know?"

Eaton felt his heart break. Completely unable to match her in a fake smile. No, if anything, a part of him wanted to rage! What kind of heartless idiots thought leaving a kid here is a good idea?!

Swallowing hard, he twisted his face in a vague approximation of something positive. "Can I let you in on something?" On seeing her nod, he continued. "Next week, you're going on the boat back home. You're nearly done your sentence."

Bennett's eyes went wide. Her voice came in an awed whisper. "I'm going home?"

"In a few more days," Eaton promised. Risking a shakedown from his boss, he knelt down and slipped a hand through the bars, resting it on the hand that had stopped writing on her arm. Giving it a small squeeze, he spoke again. "So just hold on a little longer, okay?"

Her head jittered nervously, as though nervous of making too much movement. "Okay."

"Good." He stood up, still speaking quietly. "You've made it this far. You'll be okay."

"Right… I'll be okay."

"I'll be okay." The guard walked off, leaving Melissa with that thought on repeat.

I've made it this far. I'll be okay.

I'll be okay.

I'm okay.

I'm going home.

Home!

Hands scraped across the floor. Scabs broke and bled anew onto the cold stone. With shaking hands, Melissa raised her arms forward. Thoughts focusing, focusing, on five words-

I'm going home! "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

-and the hall filled with light!