Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Just a little ficlet that was determined to be written. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense...but I think that was sort of the point. To be honest, I'm not sure. Maybe you can make heads or tails of it.

My mind is safe.

This I know above all else.

My body – this empty, useless shell that I have been cursed with – will crumble. It will not last.

First they will take their wands. They will curse me until I am an inch from death. Then they will stop, and let me heal. This will last for a few days, but they will soon grow tired of it, and will resort to more primitive measures. They will say that if the worthless muggles were good at anything, it was making torture more pleasurable. They will bleed me dry.

They will not kill me.

No, they are far too sadistic to bestow such a mercy. Once they believe my body has been sufficiently weakened, they will begin on my mind.

But they will not reach it.

My mind is safe.

I know it is, but not for the reasons you imagine. I have just received a letter from the Order. They have a special owl they use. A very small one that can fit through the bars to my cell. My interrogators say that the rest of the Order is dead, but I don't believe them.

I know better.

Every night I receive a letter. I put each one in my pocket, so that I might hold on to it during my interrogation and be comforted.They take them away in my sleep, but they always miss my secret pocket. The one that only I know about.

It is their that I place my most recent letter. They say they know all my secrets, but they are wrong.

They don't know about my secret pocket.

My mind is safe.

In the dirt and dark that was Harry Potter's prison cell, he drew his last breath.

Later, his clothes were removed, searched, and burned.

Nothing was found.