June, 1993

"Arabian NIIIIIIIIIIGHTS,

like Arabian DAYYYYYYYS,

more often than not,

are hotter than hot,

in a lot of good WAYYYYYS!"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" A voice bellowed from one of the nearby cells.

Standing as she was, leg skyward half-into a prance, Melissa gasped with a hand slammed to heart as she exclaimed. "Vernon Dursley! Aladdin is going to be a classic of massive proportions! Film, Broadway, one of the two highest grossing Disney franchises of all time! You should feel privileged to hear this performance years before you'll get a chance to see it yourselves."

"I'd be privileged to not be trapped in this hellhole with the mad bitch that PUT US IN HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"Now, now, Vernon," She chastised gently. "You and I both know that you're in here due to your own actions. Now, did I accidentally tip off the press about your rampant child abuse? Sure; but that hardly warrants this freakish vitriol. Don't you think so?"

Hands shook the other cell as a roar of anger ripped out of the hateful walrus. Melissa smirked at the sound. Such delightful music! The hatred gives it a unique timbre, like drops of snake venom or acid sizzling on the skin.

Huh. That's a weirdly morbid image. Where did that come from?

Distracted by her thoughts, she failed to notice a guard approach until he was right beside her cell. "Getting into trouble a little early today, aren't you, Bennett?"

Oh Universe, you serve me comedy on a platter!

"You're only in trouble if you get caught."

The guard, Eaton Miller, raised his brows, unimpressed. "What do you call this, then?"

"Mmm… I'm in trouble?"

The man looked her over, then gave a defeated sigh. "Just… stop antagonizing the muggle, alright? Don't give me that look! I know you two have history, but inmates here scream enough as it is."

"Well," She extended the word dramatically, "it's really just him. I never hear his wife screaming."

Miller looked at her strangely. "Bennett… the muggle woman left months ago."

"Wait, what?!" She straightened, all humour gone. "How could you let that woman out after what she did?!"

"It's not like that," he said with a headshake. "Muggles can only manage so long here. You can always tell when an inmate is about to…" He coughed. "Anyways, the DMLE has a policy that when muggles reach… that point, we obliviate their memories of magic and, depending on the length of the sentence, either let them go or drop them off at a muggle asylum."

"Wait… so the DMLE has an actual policy about locking up muggles? I thought the Dursleys were a special case!"

"They are. There've probably only been ten muggles in history to get locked up here. Maybe less," he said with a shrug. "To be honest, if it wasn't for the public outcry and it being The Boy Who Lived, they probably would have just faced muggle justice instead of ending up here."

Well that's… a whole lot of horrifying to consider. "Right. Got it. So, no more taunting Dursley?"

"Please."

"Alright. …Can I go after Pettigrew, instead?" Miller levelled a hard look at her. At once she raised placating hands. "Right, no screaming down to the other side of the prison. Got it."

"Good."


Melissa pulled out of the orb, gasping. The force of the motion had her falling into the abandoned chair. Her body shook. Shuddering breaths worked to subside it; though what truly anchored her was an arrowed glare of burning rage.

"YOU LYING SON OF A BITCH!"

Lucifer sat there, barely fazed. "I don't lie." The audacity!

"YOU TOLD ME HARRY WOULD DIE!"

"He does."

"HE GETS BETTER!"

"It doesn't change the fact that he does," he answered casually. "Honestly, I don't see why you're so upset. You should be relieved."

"I'm upset because you tricked me into thinking he'd be dead forever!"

His face twisted. "This from the woman who tricked me into thinking that I'm the actual Devil?"

"I only did that to make sure I wouldn't get Life in Azkaban!"

He swept an open palm from one end to the other, in a gesture of Stating the Obvious. "As did I. You're welcome."

"I-!" Her mouth fell, breath paused as the statement hit home. It finally released with a "son of a bitch" caught in the groan. Her arms raised and dropped dramatically. "Guess we're even, then?"

"Yes. Though you still have more memories to look through."

"Joy." She pushed out of the chair, eyeing the various forgotten memories on display. It's a lot to go through, but better to be in here than out with the dementors. "Once more unto the breach."


*CLANG!*

"Front against the wall, inmate! Arms behind you!"

Confused, yet obedient, she spoke with her cheek against the wall. "What's going on?"

Binds went tight around her wrist. After which the guard, Simon Pritchard, answered. "You've got a visitor."

The announcement caught Melissa by surprise. A visitor? She didn't think anyone would bother. After all, it's not like she'll be here for a long time. That, and her parents have no way of getting here (not that she'd allow it). She decided to ask who, only for Pritchard to shove her head-first out of the cell. She walked at a fast pace, keeping two steps ahead of the violent guard for safety's sake. Her eyes glanced occasionally at the cells on either side. This being the low-security area, there weren't any faces she recognized. Still, it made a fair distraction from wondering over who was here to see her.

They reached the ground floor. The guard muttered various threats and rules for how she is to conduct herself during the visit. Melissa nodded, uttering the proper "Yes, sirs" with each order. Finally satisfied, he led her into the visitation room. Then it took all of one look for her to lose any sense of decorum.

"Professor Lockhart?!"

The professor broadly grinned his pearly whites. "Miss Bennett! Marvellous to see you again. Come in, come in."

The guard shoved her forward and into a chair. Her mind buzzed as the restraints shifted to the armrests. "Do you have your wand on you, by any chance?"

Her only answer came as a sharp stinging hex from the guard. "No funny business, inmate!" Pritchard glared at her, then looked over at Lockhart. "I'll need to keep your wand while you're here. She can use wandless magic. I'm not taking any chances."

"Oh," Lockhart paled slightly, and his smile turned nervous, "there's no reason to worry about me. I'm an expert in handling wayward-"

"That isn't a request," Pritchard growled. His arms outstretched, his presence commanding. The effect worked as Lockhart, to his chagrin, handed over the wand. "Knock on the door when you're done. If either of you cause trouble, there'll be hell to pay." The guard left swiftly, slamming the door behind them.

"Charming fellow."

"You get used to it. Not all of them are bad. This place is just bad on the mind."

"Of course," he smiled amicably, "and how fair's your mind, Miss Bennett?"

"It's well, thanks to you." She gave a grateful smile. "Plus I have ways of handling my stay."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Nothing major. Dementors feed on happy memories, so I just focus on fun stories and songs."

"Ah! Of course, of course. …Do remind me, how does that help?"

"Well, if they eat memories of movies, all I have to do is watch them again at a muggle theatre; or listen to the wireless to hear those songs. Whatever I lose, I'll gain them again. At the end of the day, there's nothing lost."

"Fascinating! Oh! Before we continue, do you mind if I use a quick-quotes quill?" He pulled out said device, a bright lavender feather, along with ink and a roll of parchment.

Fascinating, indeed. "You're writing a book about what happened."

"I am!" He answered the non-question. "Such a tale deserves to be told, don't you think?"

She nodded, but made an effort to shrink her body and voice. "It's a little embarrassing, having been taken advantage of by that awful creature, but I do owe you for saving me, Sir."

The man positively preened at the praise. "All in a day's work, my dear." He activated the quill with a stroke, the feather coming to life. "Now, tell me, how much do you remember of the brute?"

"Nothing, fortunately. You were very thorough in your work," they both chuckled at that, "but I've been using what people said at the trial to put the pieces together."

"Clever girl." The quill scribbled along, adding extra praises to Lockhart's abilities. "And what of the Morningstar, himself? Is he still here?"

"He is. Would you like to speak with him, too, when we're done?"

The wizard vibrated with excitement, or perhaps fear. "He'd answer my questions?"

"Likely." Though some re-twisting will be needed to keep the story on track. "I'm sure you'll get along. He's something of a storyteller, himself. Plus he's been able to read your books through my memories of them. He found them entertaining."

"Oh my!" His eyes practically glowed at the statement, "Well, this is shaping up to be quite the interview! Let's begin, shall we?"


"We're back in your cell," Lucifer announced.

"Glad to hear it. Have a drink." With amusement, Melissa watched as Lucifer grabbed the shot glass- and paused as the object reactivated his 'original self' to the fold.

An odd mixture of irritation and resignation fit his features. "Under better circumstances, I'd be incredibly annoyed with you for tampering with my Being again."

Under better circumstances, of course. She gave a knowing smirk. "But under this circumstance it was necessary."

He rolled his eyes. "Half his questions were about God, Heaven, and Hell."

"How did that go?"

"I don't think 'God's an egomaniacal bastard' was an answer he expected." They both snickered at that. "He believes the whole 'this imprint doesn't have most plans and memories' story you cooked up. Though I did hint to my 'intentions' with you," he said before taking a shot of firewhiskey.

"Really? What did you tell him?"

Glass rolling between his fingers, he gave a mischievous smirk. "That your visions show the 2020s will be a very interesting decade."

Melissa snorted, then fell into a groan. "Ugh. I keep forgetting about that! …Whatever. That's, like, 30 years away. I'll burn that bridge when I get there."

"...Isn't it cross that bridge when-"

"Purposeful malaphor is purposeful," she muttered with a dismissing wave. "I'm more worried that he'll somehow put that in the book. He's a sensationalist that'll probably write about him thwarting you over here in Azkaban, or something."

"Don't worry. I'm sure Lockhart will do what's best for him."

Hearing that, Melissa furrowed her brows. "What do you mean by that?" Silence filled the void, Lucifer occupying himself with another drink. Hers went untouched. "Lucifer, what did you do?!"


*One hour ago*

Shifting nervously in his seat, Lockhart pressed forward with his questions. "But surely you know if someone is destined for Heaven or Hell, yes?"

"My charming fellow, if I could see into the future I'd have no need for the girl." He paused for a beat. "Though your true question is less general and more for yourself, correct?"

The wizard paled somewhat. "I- I don't know what you're talking about," he swallowed roughly. "I'm a beloved hero. An Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League-"

"An Honorary Member," Lucifer repeated in a mocking purr. "With an Order of Merlin, Third Class. A title awarded to wizards who 'have made a contribution to the store of knowledge or entertainment'- entertainment specifically, on your part."

The man blustered at the barb. "I'll have you know-" His voice caught as the parchment yanked out of the air and into Lucifer's hand, the quill and ink following after it. "What are you doing?!"

A pause came as Lucifer read over the words. "You are a talented wordsmith, I'll give you that. Your way of capturing scenery and emotional detail has a brilliant way of complimenting your grandiose narcissism instead of the latter bogging down the rest." He released the paper, allowing it to float away with a wave of his hand. "It's one of your few talents. If nothing else, you deserve your pride in it."

Lockhart appeared to be shaking. Half-out of his seat, frozen between wanting to take his parchment back and nervous about what could happen if he tried. On seeing the paper fly free, he slowly sat down. "What are you saying?"

"That you're useful," his smile came wicked sharp, "at least when it comes to this and memory charms."

Lockhart sucked in a breath. "You know that I- but how?!"

A dark chuckle silenced him. "Gilderoy, Gilderoy, haven't you wondered why the girl was so sure you could expel Cipher from her mind? Why she trusted you over the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape?" On seeing panic in the wizard's eye, Lucifer smoothed into a charming smile. "Now, now, don't fret. The girl is happy to keep things between the three of us. You did save her, after all."

"...Then, where does that leave us?"

"If you're willing to take my advice…" He continued on before Lockhart could do more than nod. "You understand, now, the basic arrangements that can come after death. Should you find yourself at my gates, I offer you leniency with your punishments. Should, instead, you enter Heaven but Fall, I will give you a place in my court. I offer both these options to you, if your work unsullies the girl's reputation, and you thereafter swear off using your magic against others."


"And he agreed?"

"Damn nearly ripped my hand off to seal it," Lucifer laughed. "Though he panicked and bashed back into the table when he realized what he was doing. How that man's gone years without being found out is a mystery in itself."

Melissa laughed loudly. "You're diabolical, Luc!"

"It's in my nature," the Devil grinned, offering a toast. "Would you have me any other way?"

Melissa matched him, in look and glass alike. "Not a chance!"