Harry fought to regain consciousness. He heard voices. "Three crushed ribs, two others cracked, one broken wrist, several internal injuries, heavy concussion, broken check bone, severe bruising almost everywhere. He's lucky to be alive, my Lord."
"How long is recovery?" Harry knew that voice. He just couldn't place it at the moment.
"Three, four days in bed, a few weeks of rest. Then he'll be up and around as though he had never been injured." His eyes opened briefly and fluttered shut again. "Looks like he is awake. That's a good sign." Harry felt one of his eyes opened with a hand and a light was brought into view. "Master Potter, can you hear me?"
"Ugh." He said, not able to say more.
"I know it hurts. How about this? On your right hand, tap once for yes and twice for no." Harry tapped once. "Good. Are you in any pain?" Harry tapped once. "No small wonder. It looked like you were hit by the Knight Bus when you were brought in." Harry tapped once, in agreement. He knew that he looked like he had been run over. He had been run over by Dudley. "I'll get you something for the pain in a minute. Do you know who did this to you?" He tapped once. "Someone in your family?" He tapped once. "Would you like someone to go and do something about that?" He tapped twice. Voldemort nodded. He would respect the boy's wishes on that. "Are you hungry?" He tapped twice. "All right. If you will hold still, I'll give you something for the pain, and I'll let you get some more rest." Harry tapped once. He felt someone guide a cup to his lips. He drank the liquid, noticing a potion on his tongue. St. Mungo's? He found he didn't care as his pain disappeared. "I'll be here when you wake up." He heard the comforting voice say. He tapped once and allowed sleep to take him.
"Well done, Dr. Crabbe." The Death Eater nodded.
"Thank you, Master. As I said, he will be up and about soon. We'll just have to keep him comfortable until then." Crabbe packed away his supplies and left the room, leaving Voldemort alone with the boy. Who knew why he wanted the boy? He just did as he was told.
Harry woke again. This time, he could keep his eyes open. He looked around, completely bewildered. Where was he? He noticed that he had several bandages about him, so the doctor hadn't been a dream. He looked about the room, noticing that it looked like a guest bedroom of some old manor house. He was reminded of Victorian times with the tapestries and heavy wood. He sat up slowly. He jumped when the door opened. "Ah, you're up. You've been asleep for two days. How are you feeling?"
"A little sore." He admitted.
"Forgive me. I'm the doctor that you talked with before. Do you remember?" Harry nodded.
"Only a little." He said, not recalling much of the conversation.
"Any pain?" Harry shook his head. "Hungry?" Now that it had been mentioned, he was starving.
"Yes." He answered.
"I'll get a tray sent up. Anything you allergic to?" Harry grinned.
"My cousin's fists." The doctor, for his credit, laughed at the joke. Even in strange places, Potter could have humor. "Am I in a wing of St. Mungo's?" Harry asked.
"No, but you are safe from your relations here. They cannot reach you. They do not even know what happened. Trust me on that." Harry nodded. Dumbledore had probably stepped in and sent him here.
"Is Professor Dumbledore here?" Harry asked as the doctor removed a bandage.
"No, he's not." The man answered. He checked all the others and told Harry where the bathroom was. "Can you make it on your own?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm just sore. I can do it."
"Someone will bring you a tray in just a few minutes. Just take it easy. I'll be back to check on you later." Harry nodded and threw the covers off. He crossed to the bathroom and found all of the modern conveniences there. He even found towels. He longed to take a shower, but decided against it until the doctor said he could. He brushed his teeth and combed his hair.
"It will never lie flat, dear!" the mirror said merrily. Harry smiled and returned to his bed. He said his trunk in the corner of the room, and Hedwig's cage. He figured Hedwig was flying about somewhere. A house elf entered the room, carrying a tray.
"Hello, sir." The elf said, coming forward and setting the tray on Harry's lap. The elf secured a napkin in front of Harry. "Should you need anything, you just call for Nellie, sir. I'll come to you." Harry thanked her, which caused her eyes to tear up. She disappeared and Harry started eating. Soup, some hot sandwiches, juice, milk, and fruit. It rivaled Hogwart's food. After Harry had finished eating and had set the tray aside, he got up and opened his trunk. He was never allowed to complete holiday homework with the Dursley's, but nothing could stop him now. He gathered quill, ink, parchment, and books and took them back to his bed. He started in on the History of Magic essay about the wars between the giants and the centaurs. He hoped that his essay wouldn't be as boring as the lectures.
"How is he?" Voldemort asked the doctor as the man came in to report.
"Recovering well. He'll still be a little weak, but it appears that he does not want anyone to know the extent of his injuries. He's had a meal already." Voldemort decided that was good news. "He will be little tired now and then, as his body is still mending, but he should be able to resume almost normal activities within the next few days." Voldemort nodded.
"May I see him?" he asked.
"Of course, my Lord. He is certainly strong enough for that." Voldemort rose and went down the hallway, stopping outside the door. He steeled himself for the boy's predictable reaction. Most likely threats with a wand, a flung curse or so, and then questions. He opened the door and entered.
Harry looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin. Voldemort. The man stood there, not advancing or retreating. Just standing there. No sign of a wand, but then that didn't mean much. "Hello, Harry." Harry froze. "I'm glad to see that you're feeling better." The boy was just staring at him, not really moving. "I had you brought here when it became apparent that your relatives were doing more than just misusing you. It appears that my servant got you out just in time, considering the amount of damage you sustained under their care."
"What do you want?" Harry finally managed in a low hiss.
"Nothing at all. I'm told that you will be up and about in just a few days. I'll leave you to rest now. Listen to your doctor. I'll see you in a few days." And with that comment, Voldemort left the room. Harry stayed still for all of two seconds after the Dark Lord left the room.
He threw back his covers, gathered his schoolbooks, and carried them back to his trunk. He settled them back into their resting place and pulled out some clothes and his Hogwart's robe. No way was he staying here. He was leaving while he had the chance. Perhaps Voldemort had hit his head or something, but Harry was taking advantage of the fact that he was still alive. He wanted to maintain that fact. He pulled on the clothes and some shoes and pulled out his wand. He thought better on it and pulled on his dad's invisibility cloak. He raised the hood and put his wand away. He opened the door and wandered down the hallway. He found the stairs easily and went down them. A few minutes of searching produced a door to the outside. He ran down the drive, ignoring the pain. He put out his wand and waited for the Knight Bus to show. It shouldn't take long.
Voldemort watched from his study window as Harry tore down the drive. He was amazed to find that the boy had an Invisibility cloak. The boy held out his wand, obviously waiting for something. Five minutes passed and the boy was still standing there, waiting for whatever he thought was coming. Voldemort motioned one of his Death Eaters over to the window. "Do you see the boy?"
"No, my Lord." Voldemort remembered the cloak then.
"He's under an Invisibility Cloak. He is just standing there, holding his wand out, waiting for something. Any idea what that might be?" The Death Eater considered it.
"Either something Dumbledore set up to call for help, or the Knight Bus, the latter being the more likely, my Lord." Voldemort wondered about that. If Dumbledore had set up some kind of signal for help on the boy's wand, the old wizard would have been here by now. Voldemort went downstairs and onto the front porch. He stood there as the boy turned around, eyed the Dark Lord, and turned back around.
"I can see you, Harry." Harry stiffened and turned. "If you're waiting for the Knight Bus or some other transportation like that, they can't find you. I have wards set up for that sort of thing so no one will accidentally get off here." The look of disbelief crossed the boy's face. "Since the gates are locked and only open for certain people, I suggest you just come back inside, for you are wasting your time." And with that, the most feared wizard turned around and went back in the house.
Harry couldn't believe his ears. What was that all about? No curses, no hexes, no Unforgivable spells. Nothing. Just a warning to come back in the house because the Knight Bus wouldn't be coming. He shook his head and looked at the fence. It looked almost impossible to climb without injuries. As for the top, well, that looked sharp and a good way to impale him. Done in by a fence after facing the Dark Lord just did not seem a good way to end his life. He walked the perimeter of the fence, trying each gate. None of them would open. He was in a prison. That's what it was, a prison. Well, he wouldn't go back indoors, that was one thing for certain. Death Eaters were in there, and they all wished for his demise. Harry wanted to keep his life as long as possible. He took off the Invisibility Cloak, considering it almost useless, for if Voldemort could see him, others would be able to, too. Must be the Dark Mark thing. He found a bench and settled onto it. He stared at the fence and wondered how much of an injury he risked if he tried to climb it. Voldemort watched the boy the while, afraid that he might try something stupid and climb the fence or try to force a gate. When he settled down on a bench, the Dark Lord turned back to his book. Let the child pout for a while. He would come back to his senses and come in when it grew cold and dark.