Thanks to those who reviewed on the last chapter. As you've probably noticed I changed my username to The Flaming Albino. Seems like a strange name, I know, but its sort of a joke my friends made up about me. I'm pale, and a red-head, thus The Flaming Albino was born! Yes, I'm aware the last chapter was painfully short, and I'm sorry to say that the next few may be just as short, mostly because I'm a spur-of-the-moment writer. Once again, thanks to those who are so enthusiastic about this story.

Disclaimer: Not mine.


Voldemort was usually a very patient man, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get to where he is today. However, today there were special circumstances, because today the boy he'd been trying to kill for 15 years was in his home, and he couldn't do anything about it. The simple fact that Harry was too injured to pry information out of agitated him beyond belief.

He stood up, pacing back and forth in large room, his bloody eyes narrowed into slits. "Wormtail." He snarled out, watching the stubby man run from the doorway and cower before him, kissing the hem of his robes. "What is the status on the Potter boy? Has Severus finished with him yet?"

"M-my Lord, I d-don't know" Wormtail stuttered out, his eyes on the floor. He had been around Voldemort long enough to know that it was never a good idea to make eye contact. That sort of thing got you killed with no questions asked.

"What do you mean you don't know?! Did I not assign you to keep track of matters that occur when I'm not around? Tell me Wormtail, you pathetic excuse for servant, what purpose do you even serve here?!"

"I-I'm sorry m-my lord! Its j-just that I w-wasn't expecting such a p-pre-predicament at this time!" he quickly bowed down low to the ground, attempting to make himself as small as possible.

Now thoroughly enraged, Voldemort raised his hand and snarled out "Crucio!" he watched with mild satisfaction as Wormtail screamed and writhed in pain on the cold floor. He released the curse at the sound of the door opening. "Ah Severus…what news?"

Snape walked over, his robes discoloured from the potions Harry had spit up at him, and his hands stained pink from the blood he had yet to wash off. His hair was dishevelled from practically running up the dungeon stairs, having no desire to remain anywhere near the menace know as Harry Potter. "My Lord, the boy will be asleep for at least another few hours. I have healed his minor injuries, though some of the deeper cuts, mostly those on his back, will take a short time to heal. However, even when he's physically ready for questioning, I don't believe he'll be mentally stable. Unfortunately, I have no potions prepared that could speed up the process of healing his mind." He bowed once again.

Voldemort stopped to think. "How long will these potions take to brew? I need him ready as soon as possible for my plans to be set into action." He only then seemed to notice Wormtail had scampered off somewhere, no doubt he was running around in his rat form, finding a place to hide.

"The potions could take up to a month to make…on top of that I have classes to teach in order to keep up my appearance as a spy for the Light. What information should I feed to Dumbledore this time? He is getting restless and suspicious of where my loyalties lie."

"Ah yes…Dumbledore, no doubt he's found out that his golden boy is missing. He must be in a right panic. Well, just tell him that I intend on raiding somewhere in Diagon Alley. That's not very specific, and who knows, maybe I actually will raid it." He waved his hand, signalling that he wanted Snape out of his presence. "Oh, and do start brewing those potions immediately. Why not recruit Malfoy's son to help you? I need the potions as soon as possible. You're dismissed." He turned on his heel and walked towards the head of the table.

Snape turned around, mulling over the instructions he was given. 'Get Draco Malfoy to help me? The boy has a shorter attention span than his father, which truly is astounding.' Apparated out of the room, and just outside of the Hogwarts grounds, stealthily sneaking back to his quarters without being caught. It wouldn't do for any students to catch him with blood all over his hands. That could start some nasty rumours.

Voldemort sat at the head of the large dining table, his head resting in his palm. "A month…what should I do with the damned boy until then? I can't very well leave him in the dungeon, that certainly won't help me gain his trust. But I also can't leave him without supervision of some sort, the foolish brat will no doubt try to escape or contact his little friends. Perhaps for now, the dungeon is best. I'll worry about gaining his trust later on." He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the brilliance of his plan.


Well, that's all for now. But at least I updated again, and its slightly longer than the last one. This was more of a filler chapter, though it does serve a bit of a plot or at least gives you a bit of insight on the characters. I'll try to update again soon.