"Things are going to plan," he said rhetorically to his lackey cloaked in darkness.
The lackey nodded firmly, wondering when he would be able to return to his duties. The Dark Lord did not take kindly to his minions skivving off work.
"You have been keeping an eye on Potter, correct," the man asked his lackey dangerously.
"Yes, my lord," the lackey told him quietly, barely loud enough to be heard. It satisfied the man, though and he walked over to his office chair.
"Keep watch over Snape and Black as well," the man said, surprising his lackey. "I don't care how you do it. They may yet be useful to me..."
The lackey gritted his teeth, knowing he was trapped and hating it. How was it always him that got stuck with these horrible jobs?
Nevertheless, he nodded and replied respectfully, "Yes, my lord." With a flourish as if to display his true independence, the lackey turned and left the man in his office to gleefully plan his slowly forming future.
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This wasn't painful nor cold nor hot. This wasn't blissful nor suffocating. This was simply existing.
Those were Sirius' thoughts as consciousness slowly wormed its way into his mind. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach, wishing he could sleep in a nice, soft, CLEAN bed just once more before he died.
Died? Didn't- Didn't You-Know-Who just catch him? Just k-kill him?
Sirius jerked up and looked about him in wide-eyed panic. His eyes met a very sullen Snape's and he stopped, if possible, even more terrified than before.
"Are we in Hell," Sirius asked breathlessly.
Snape snorted and stood from his seat one of the hall's many antique chairs lining its walls, "No, but it is close."
"What happened? What did he do to us," Sirius asked standing and facing the tall, forbidding Potions Master.
Snape snorted and moved to stand by the double doors leading to the room, "Placed us in a sort of living limbo. We can see, hear, feel and even taste all that goes on around us, but we may never interact with it. No others can see us, unless they know the proper spell for it."
Sirius' mouth hung limply open as he absorbed the information he'd just been given, "I failed...again."
Snape sighed, "We are not here to indulge in remonstrating your life's foolish actions. We'd need another lifetime to do it, if we were, and we do not have that."
Sirius glared at Snape, "So why haven't you left yet?"
Snape scowled darkly back at Sirius, "I've already tried. We seem to be connected by the spell. One can not leave the other."
Once more Sirius' jaw dropped in horror as he muttered a word that would've shocked Mrs Weasley. Snape simply cocked an eyebrow at his choice of words.
"Agreed," Snape told the distraught man. "Now, if you are finished bemoaning your fate, may we continue? I would like to find a way to break this spell and rid myself of you."
Sirius narrowed his eyes at his old school rival and nodded abruptly. He walked swiftly forward and reached for the door handles - only to fall straight through the door, through a passing House-elf, who seemed slightly startled and spooked when he couldn't find what had touched him, and hit the floor with an "Oof!"
Snape calmly stepped through the doors and brushed the little House-elf, who this time shrieked and ran for all he was worth back to the safety of the kitchen. Snape smirked at the little creature's retreating back before stalking off in the opposite direction.
"No need to worry," Sirius called after the tall dark figure. "I can get up myself!"
Snape stopped and scowled, not bothering to turn toward his companion as he snarled back, "Hurry up! We haven't all day. Or have you forgotten that not only are we in trouble, but so is YOUR godson?"
Sirius shut-up, stood and, all the while glaring, began to follow Snape, muttering some speculating words on the other man's legitimacy. The silent pair moved through the dark hallways side by side, as if afraid to be alone, but not quite comfortable with being together.
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His head hurt. It caused his eyes to hurt, his skin and teeth and lips to hurt. Even his scar and HAIR hurt. And his bed was much harder than it had been for the past week. Harry was sure of it.
Harry opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his skull and forced a gasp from his lungs. He moaned and turned over, wondering briefly when he would finally be allowed to die and escape his misery.
"Care for him," commanded a familiar voice that was also laced with pain.
Harry didn't have much time to wonder what it meant or who it was before his heard to unmistakable click of a key turning in a lock and the soft squeal of a metal door as it opened. He curled up in a tight fetal position, his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as his mind fairly exploded in white hot shards of pain.
A light, cold hand softly tugged Harry's poor head up off the unforgiving ground and gently pried his head loose. Harry tightened his muscles, but the pain quickly drained his energy away and the hands won out. With nothing left in him to fight with, Harry let the hands open his mouth and drain in some foul tasting liquid, hoping only for a quick death.
Almost immediately after the liquid was introduced to his system, Harry's pain began to ebb and soon it was little more than a lingering nuisance. Harry opened his eyes and stared uncomprehending at Himitsu's own dark orbs, which flashed momentarily with worry.
"Finally," said the voice again, now free of pain and recognizable as the infamous Dark Lord's. "You certainly took your time, didn't you."
"I apologize, my Master," replied Himitsu gravely. "I moved slowly only to bar myself from causing anymore pain to interrupt your illustrious thought processes." His eyes still held Harry's and Harry felt distinctly comforted by this, though the man's words were less than comforting.
Voldemort snorted, "Be quicker next time. And cushion Potter's cell. We must keep our guest comfortable while he is yet needed."
"As you wish," Himitsu said, finally breaking eye contact and raising his head to give Voldemort a slight bow.
Harry turned his head to view Voldemort from behind a curtain of bars and black veils. It was as though Voldemort wished to forget he existed, but knew it was foolish to believe he ever could. Harry sighed and looked down to the hard metal floor of the cave, eyes widening as he noticed the color of his robes.
"Didn't this used to be white," he asked, running his hands over the green and brown colors that lightly colored his garment.
"Yes," Himitsu answered. "It has been magically enhanced to display the power transfer that will be occurring over the next month. The largest transfer occurred last night and there will not be another until the last few days of the transfer. This will indicate to us if the transfer is proceeding on schedule or if it has for some reason been delayed, stopped or accelerated.
Anger surged briefly in Harry as he finally recalled the hazy events of the previous night, but he quelled it quickly. Anger would only get him killed at this stage.
"Himitsu," growled the Dark Lord. "I do believe I gave you an order. Or have you deluded yourself into believing yourself my master?"
"No, my master," Himitsu called back, hurriedly scrambling to his feet. "No one may master you, my master!"
Himitsu quickly leapt from the cage and walked quickly to the door. His back was stiff and Harry thought he heard it crack as it crumpled beneath the weight of Voldemort's Crutacious curse. Screams flew into every corner of the room as the proud man writhed on the floor.
"Remember that," Lord Voldemort told him in a low, dangerous voice. He watched coldly as the smaller man picked himself up off the floor, bowed deeply to his master and scampered as quickly as he could from the room. Voldemort laughed at his retreating back as a wave of nausea overtook Harry.
"Don't like that, Harry," Voldemort said with a grin, striding over. "You should get used to it. I enjoy doing that."
With a sickening feeling, Harry realized that he could feel the pleasure of the evil creature before him. It seeped through his insides and into his heart, where Harry was sure he could feel it tainting his very soul. Suddenly more terrified than he had ever been, Harry scrambled quickly backward until the cage's other side's bars cut painfully into his thin back.
Voldemort's smile grew, "You could join me. It's not too late. You may not remember the dream I sent you the night after you were sorted, but I have always wanted you on my side. You are powerful and almost like a son to me. I did leave some of my power in you that night your mother's sacrifice defeated me, so you are the closest thing I have to a son."
Harry shivered and shook his head.
"I could grant you power," Voldemort continued as though scenting Harry's resolve might not be a firm as either had thought. "I could grant you the family you never had. You'd be my son, my heir, though I shall of course never suffer at death's hands. With you by my side, the entire world would fall to its knees before us by this time next year. And then you would be my second, as powerful as I and answerable only to me."
Temptation swirled though Harry, tugging at his heart, telling him that this was the only way to survive. His want of a family made it all the stronger until he was unsure if the feelings were his own or those of Lord Voldemort's, sent to sway him quickly. Bile rose in his throat along with contradicting words that Harry bit back as he lowered his gaze and attempted to hide himself from the red eyes he knew he would never escape.
"Think about it Harry," Voldemort told him cajolingly. "You could even keep your friends around as pets. I do believe Lucius mentioning something about one of them being a mudblood."
A weak spark of anger flared in Harry's mind, but was swept away by nausea. "You'd never allow me my friends," he replied thickly. "You'd kill Hermione immediately for being Muggle-born."
Voldemort laughed shrilly and walked into an adjacent room, his admonishment for Harry to think about it unspoken. It was unnecessary. He could feel the hope that had burrowed deeply into Harry's heart and knew now how he could sway the Boy-Who-Lived.
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Shinpi moved slowly down the hall, wondering who had charmed it to become ever longer. Finally he reached the kitchen and knocked a table clean of dishes and settled atop it.
"Sir would like a massage," asked a hesitant House-elf in a high voice.
"No," Shinpi sarcastically, "I just thought a hard, wooden table might be comfortable to lay on."
The House-elf blinked and Shinpi sighed, "Yes, now hurry up!"
"Right away, sir," the House-elf cried and hopped up onto the table and began massaging the soreness from the man's tight muscles.
The massage was heavenly and Shinpi had almost fallen asleep when another House-elf came screaming into the kitchen, his little feet moving little more than blurs and his face screwed up in a look of utmost terror. Shinpi jerked off the table in surprise and winced as he hit the floor hard, cracking his skull.
He rubbed his throbbing head as the scared elf cried loud tears of terror and was surrounded by its fellows who tired unsuccessfully to quiet him as they threw looks of fear over at Shinpi. Shinpi sighed and, standing, slowly made his way over to the little elf. Quickly he covered the creature's mouth, effectively silencing and gaining his attention at the same time.
"What happened," Shinpi asked the House-elf who now watched him with large watering eyes.
"S-sir, Binky was only doing the laundry when two g-g-GHOSTS walked through Binky! Binky couldn't see them, so Binky got scared and ran away," the House-elf told Shinpi as he looked down at his feet, ashamed.
"Good work, Binky," Shinpi told the nervous little fellow jovially. "You've helped me a great deal."
Binky blinked quickly before grinning happily at Shinpi, "Binky happy to be of service to Sir!"
Shinpi chuckled and nodded, "Let me know if you find those... 'ghosts' again, will you Binky? Or if any of the others do."
Binky blinked, a slight amount of fear showing in his saucer-like eyes before he nodded and smiled at Shinpi again. "Binky will, Sir!"
"So you've found them," said a voice from behind Shinpi.
Shinpi sighed and turned to face his round master. He almost grinned at the thought having a skinny master and a fat master, but he kept his face carefully neutral and nodded.
"Good," the short fat man said. He glanced at the House-elves who quickly scrambled back to their chores. "I want this room cleared of all you house-elves," he bellowed.
The house-elves jumped and fairly disappeared from the room. Once they were gone, the fat man held out a flask of potion to Shinpi.
"Use this to poison Potter."
Shinpi took the flask from his master and glanced at it before hiding it in his robes.
"The Dark Lord is too volatile to allow to rule us," the fat master continued. "He must be destroyed and this is the perfect way to do it. Just make sure it's gradual. We wouldn't want any revenge attacks, though I can't see how anyone would actually want to avenge him, except possibly as a political move."
The fat man looked thoughtful at his own words as Shinpi felt a shiver of warning slide up his back.
"It shall be done, Master," Shinpi replied to halt the man's thought processes. It worked and the man glanced at him, startled from his thoughts. "Everything will go as you say."
The ponderous man grinned and left the room with a nod. Shinpi sighed, felt the vile in his pocket and sat down for a moment.
He disliked the idea of killing a child. But then, he hated being someone's slave even more. Neither really felt right to him, even after having grown up with it. He guessed that it had something to do with having lived in England as long as he had. The English were almost like the Americans with their ideas of freedom and Shinpi had heard that England had been where America had gotten its own ideas.
He glanced at the date and wondered how long after the Dark Lord's death it would be that his fat master killed him and came to power saying he had destroyed the Dark Lord's killer to one people and that he himself had done the deed to the other. Shinpi idly wondered how the man was going to keep the two stories from counteracting each other when the two sides of the war finally heard the other side's story.
Finally he stood, putting the questions up to be thought about later. After all, no matter what happened, Shinpi himself was sure to not be a part of it. He strode quickly from the room, determined to finally start the job he had been sent to do when he came to the kitchens.
Next Chapter: ????