A/N: Once again, I own nothing.

Chapter 2: The Dark Lord's Servant

To say the least, Draco was shocked. His father had brought him to this meeting saying that it was time Draco became involved. Apparently the Dark Lord had an interest in him.

Black robes billowed as every person in the room dropped into a low bow. Lord Voldemort strolled casually up to his throne, followed by none other than Harry Potter.

He was beat up, covered in blood and wearing rags that probably used to be his competitors uniform. Yet, he followed the Dark Lord complacently, sitting at the foot of his throne as a pet might.

"As some of you know," Voldemort's voice boomed in the large room, "Harry Potter was not killed that night a few months ago. He was, in fact, taken and placed in our dungeons for…conditioning."

Draco stared speechlessly at the small boy. Was this really Harry Potter? He seemed much too small, too fragile. But there was that unmistakable lightning scar. This was indeed that boy that had plagued Draco at Hogwarts for nearly four years.

Harry just sat there, his eyes glazed over. He was blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. Draco knew what it was like to be under the Imperious. But he also knew that it wouldn't last very long on Potter. He shuddered at the memory of Barty Crouch Jr. turning him into a ferret.

"Father," Draco whispered, "Harry won't stay under the imperious for long. Crouch tested it on him in class. He fought it off."

Lucius nodded, acknowledging Draco's point. "My lord," he spoke, "my son, Draco, has pointed out that Potter has previously fought off control from the imperious curse. I would suggest stronger spells before he starts to rebel."

Harry, who had been gradually winning control of his body back, heard this statement and began to panic. If they placed stronger curses on him, he's never escape. Breaking through the curse, Harry began to thrash violently and tries to run off. But now, they were expecting it.

"Now, now" Voldemort hissed, "You're such a bad boy Harry. Perhaps some discipline. Crucio."

Harry's screams filled the cavernous room as the curse hit him. Why wouldn't they just kill him already?

"Why not just kill him, my lord?" a female voice echoed his thoughts.

"What better way to crush the Light than to use their own hero against them? It's almost poetic justice." Voldemort cackled at his own statement, filling the room with nervous and hearty laughter. "Bellatrix," he called, releasing the cruciatus curse, "go get that potion we've been saving."

The female voice responded and heels clacking on the wooden floor indicated her retreat.

Harry couldn't move. He was in too much pain. He was too tired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept peacefully, ate a good meal, or not been in pain. Probably before he got captured. If only he'd been able to escape.

Too quickly, Bellatrix returned. None to gently, she kicked Harry over to his back and forced him into a semi-sitting position. Tilting Harry's head, she poured the silky, blood red potion down his throat.

Harry's entire body burned. He could feel himself being burnt away. Obey Lord Voldemort the voices said. His eyes went back and forth-green, red, green, red—before settling on a dull green that look nearly black. His body began to jerk uncontrollably, and Draco began to wonder if the potion was giving him a seizure. Abruptly, he stopped moving.

Small whimpers escaped from his mouth as Harry slowly curled up into fetal position. It hurt. Memories began to slip away, a large chest, much like his Hogwarts one, was growing larger with "unwanted" memories. After what seemed like an eternity, the box locked itself and disappeared altogether from his mind.


Harry Potter sat up, blinking slowly as he gained his bearings. He must have collapsed again from the pain in his scar. Black clad feet below black robes moved closer, their faces covered by silver skull masks.

Frowning, Harry stood up and faced the front of the room. Lord Voldemort sat calmly on his throne, assessing Harry's reaction.

A pale blonde with a pinched face leaned out around the group. He looked familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place it.

Suddenly, Harry remembered where he was and who all these people were. He scowled darkly at the memories. They were blurry yes, but he could remember enough. He was in Lord Voldemort's main chambers at the recently renovated Riddle Manor, one of the most well protected Wizarding houses in the world. He had collapsed during a Death Eater meeting, explaining the masks and robes.

A worried looking Bellatrix stood a few feet away, as though hesitant to touch him. Harry understood considering everything that had happened.

Harry took a wobbly step forward before bowing lightly. The entire room was stunned, save Lord Voldemort. "I am home," he said, smirking, "Father."

Draco: Oh My Gods. You are evil.
Me: *shrugs* It comes with the territory, I guess. Survival technique.
Draco: That makes no sense...
Me: Deal with it.
Draco: Fine! Review the stupid story before she curses me. And while you're at it, please get me out of here.
Me: Ignore that last part! We're both very happy here! Imperio!

Love, Samsstars