Chapter Two:
Voldemort turned towards Severus at his gasp. What could rattle the stoic man so much to make him lose his control, even slightly? Seeing the look of shock mingled with horror on his servant's face, the Dark Lord quickly took the few steps back toward the pair at the question, and followed the Potion Master's gaze. Seeing the bruise on the boy's throat only served to increase his rage. Then, recalling the boy's silence since his arrival, and noting the location of the injury, an unexpected sense of dread sunk into his mind.
"Potter, can you speak?" he asked, in a voice wrought with barely controlled fury. Harry, having forced his head out of Snape's grasp, just looked dismally down at the floor once again, giving no indication of an answer. Shame burned deeply within him.
Finally losing control of his temper, the Dark Lord pounced. Gripping the boy's chin harshly, he forced his head back up with a quick jerk. Angrily flashing ruby red eyes met shattered emerald. Leaning forward until he was mere inches from the boy's face, the Dark Lord spoke again, this time in an angry growl.
"Potter, I don't appreciate being ignored. Now, I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Can you speak?" The last was spoken in a series of hisses, which only two people in the world could understand.
Harry made no attempt to escape Voldemort's grasp, not wishing to truly have the older wizard's anger directed towards him. He simply directed his eyes back down toward the floor, escaping that penetrating crimson gaze. He then gave a small shake of his head, the best he could do with his chin still held in a vice-like grip.
The Dark Lord, having received his answer, immediately turned his piercing glare onto Severus, who had been watching the entire scene in no small amount of shock. There were two questions running constantly through Severus Snape's mind. How could he not have known? And, why on Earth wasn't Potter dead, rather than resting on the sofa of his mortal enemy?
"Severus," the Dark Lord's commanding tone quickly snapped him back to attention. "See to the boy's throat. Immediately." With that, the Dark Lord finally released his grip on Potter's chin, taking a few steps back but maintaining a constant watch on the events currently unfolding in his sitting room.
"Yes, of course, My Lord." With a quick, respectful bow of his head to the Dark Lord, Severus immediately returned his full attention back to Harry Potter. Following his Master's orders, he waved his wand over the boy's throat, soundlessly casting several diagnostic spells. It was never wise to attempt to heal an injury as serious as this without first knowing its exact nature. He would not risk Potter's ability to speak, or most especially the Dark Lord's wrath, by being hasty.
After a few minutes of casting diagnostic spells and reading the results, Severus turned his attention back to his Master behind him. "My Lord, Potter's final injury will require a more specialized potion, which I will need to custom brew."
The Dark Lord's eyes flashed, "And exactly how long will this 'specialized potion' take to make Severus?" he demanded.
"Three days, My Lord."
"Very well. Return to Hogwarts and begin. At once." There was such a tone of command to the words that Severus immediately banished everything he had used to treat the boy. He bowed low to the Dark Lord and with a "Yes, My Lord." quickly returned through the floo to his dungeon quarters at Hogwarts, without risking so much as a final glance at Potter.
After Severus was gone, Voldemort was able to turn his thoughts and attentions fully to the boy before him. After a few minutes of thinking, he made a decision. If he wanted the boy on his side, some risks would need to be taken. After all, he couldn't very well lock the boy up, or he would lose him.
Harry raised his head and watched Voldemort somewhat apprehensively. It was desperation that brought him here, but now that the pain and injuries were gone, he could admit he was actually somewhat wishing that Snape hadn't left. Sure, so far Voldemort hadn't harmed him, but the man was nothing if not unpredictable. His mood swings were well-known to anyone who had any type of contact with him. But, he had already made a decision, and he'd rather be here than back with the Dursley's.
The Dark Lord was curious. How badly scarred was the boy? He had cursed the boy numerous times in the past, and never before had he refused to meet his eyes. Even now, when Potter was finally looking at him of his own free will, his eyes seemed to be aimed somewhere around his chin. The Dark Lord couldn't help the small smirk; his decision was definitely the correct one.
"Well boy, it seems that at least until Severus completes the potion, you will be my guest." There, did the boy's eyes widen a bit? "After you can speak again, we will talk about your position here. In the mean time, there will be some rules. So long as you do not attempt to leave this place, harm myself or any of my followers, and you obey any instructions I give, you have my word you will not be harmed. If you fail to obey any of these rules- well, your status as a guest can always be changed. Is that understood?"
Harry was in a fair bit of shock by now. He had been expecting to be either killed or locked away in some kind of cell. Now, he was being told he was a guest. Granted, a guest that wasn't allowed to leave, but a guest just the same. Plus, while Voldemort wasn't exactly being friendly, he did seem a great deal calmer than earlier. This was actually the most civil the man had ever been towards him. Besides, what did he really have to lose that he hadn't been prepared to lose already? With that thought, he gave a decisive nod of his head to the Dark Lord, who had been waiting for his answer.
While the boy was thinking, the Dark Lord regarded him closely once again. The one thing he noted above all others was exhaustion, it practically oozed off the boy. He didn't know when Potter had last rested, but it was clearly too long ago to be healthy. Seeing the boy's nod, his smirk grew, and he silently summoned a vial of potion from another room. This would be amusing. "Alright then, my first instruction for you, drink this." He handed the vial to the boy.
Harry regarded it doubtfully for a moment, and then shifted his attention to Voldemort, who was watching closely with a smirk that clearly indicated the bastard was enjoying his indecision. Every instinct he had screamed that he couldn't trust anything this man gave him, but his mind reminded him of the deal they had just made, and that refusing could therefore be just as potentially dangerous as doing what he was told. What could he do but hold Voldemort to his word? Decision made, he popped the cork out of the vial and downed it quickly. A moment later, everything went black.
