*He regresado! JKR still owns HP…last time I checked.

Chapter Five

Severus Snape swept through the manor hallways quickly. He had stayed with Potter longer than he initially planned on. Just as he was about to enter his quarters his Dark Mark flared briefly—the Dark Lord wanted an audience. Holding back the sigh he desperately wanted to let out, Snape back pedaled and headed to his Master's study. Having just left the Dark Lord's audience two hours before he wasn't quite sure what the man wanted to talk about. Surely it wouldn't be a social call at this time of night. He knocked lightly when he arrived.

"Enter."

Pushing the door open, Snape found the Dark Lord situated behind his desk leafing through a few parchments. The Potions Master recognized them immediately as his own recommendations of which Death Eaters Potter would be most responsive to as instructors.

"Please sit down, Severus. I'm sorry to trouble you, it is late after all, but I wanted to finish this before we begin tomorrow."

Snape brows knit together, "I thought you wanted to give the boy a day of acclimation."

"Yes, that was my original idea, but I decided that it might not be for the best. A day of no activity would give Harry the opportunity to set himself against being here and learning. Maybe if we jump right in we can nip his rebelliousness in the bud."

Snape nodded; all that the Dark Lord said was probably true.

"I'm glad you think so as well. Now about your proposals…I agree with your suggestion that Harry should have only a handful of teachers. Naturally I want you to be the boy's main focus. Would it be too much for you, to handle the core of Harry's magical studies?"

"I do not believe so, my Lord. I received top NEWT scores in every subject."

"Good. Moving on, I was surprised by your strong feelings of exposing Harry to a feminine influence, but after some thought I found your reasoning to be sound. So I think Victoria Lochrin would work well for swordsmanship and dueling lessons, with your assistance in the latter of course."

Snape looked over the parchment and nodded briefly, "Madam Lochrin is quite formidable with a sword, and Potter will surely underestimate her while dueling. No don't his chivalry will come into untimely play. "

"Excellent, those were my thoughts exactly. That is a good start. When Harry feels up to it we can begin some Wizarding Culture lessons. I'm sure Lucius would be more than happy to lend a hand."

"I'm sure he would," Snape muttered.

"After he has had a few months to adjust, I will take over the bulk of Harry's lessons while you and Madam Lochrin will provide supplemental learning. Finally, I should like to meet with Harry every evening after supper starting tomorrow."

"To what purpose, my Lord?"

"Simply to get to know the boy more. I believe a lesser man would call it familial bonding."

*******

Harry watched the fire until the wood had completely broken up and all that was left was shimmering embers and sighed—nothing would be accomplished by staring into a fire. He placed his half-filled mug back on the little table—where it popped out of existence—and got up. His eyes flickered back and forth between the bed (which look incredibly inviting) and the door (which looked locked…if he knew Voldemort). Feeling that, on principle, he just couldn't accept his imprisonment lying down, Harry walked over to the door. He tugged on the handle, but sure enough the door did not budge. Not surprised, but feeling slightly more satisfied that he at least thought about escaping, Harry moved towards the bed.

As he pulled off the robe Voldemort had conjured up, Harry spotted the potion vial Snape had left on the table. He grabbed it and brought it over to the bed. The liquid was a lilac color and shimmered in the fate light emitting from the fireplace. With a jolt Harry realized he knew this potion! Taking the stopper out and sniffing it confirmed this. Dreamless Sleep, Snape had given him a vial of Dreamless Sleep. That didn't make sense; why would Snape want to do something nice for him?

Harry didn't understand it. Ever since he had arrived at this place, Snape had been acting like the same snarky git he always was. Yet the conversation they just had was the most civil interaction the two had ever had, and it was so unexpected Harry didn't hold out hope for a repeat. Despite all his appearances, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Snape actually wanted to help him. In full reflection mode, Harry realized this wasn't the first time the professor would be lending him aid. Snape had saved his life in his first quidditch match; maybe he was still trying to make up the life debt he owed his father. Nonetheless, Harry refused to believe Snape's motives could be explained that easily.

Shaking his head Harry downed the potion in one swallow. He put the empty vial on a bedside table and slipped between the cream colored sheets. They were soft, better than what he had at the Dursleys but still didn't compare to Hogwarts. Finding a comfortable spot, Harry gave into the drowsiness wishing he were back in his tower.

*******

Ron was shaking him awake again. Two days in a row; what an awful way to start the year! But when did Ron's hands become so small? Harry came around to find himself looking into two very large eyes.

"Whoa!" He jumped to the other side of bed. The house elf, obviously in charge of getting him up, squeaked and immediately ducked down out of sight.

"Bizzy is sorry Master Harry Potter! Bizzy is to wake youse up. Master Harry Potter is to be ready for eating."

Identifying his alarm clock and realizing there was no danger at all, Harry leaned over to take in the cowering creature. Bizzy was about the same size as Dobby and dressed in an immaculate Slytherin green pillowcase. Harry could make out a silver crest on one side, but the house elf stood too far away to confirm what it was. He had his suspicions though knowing who Voldemort was.

"If sir wants to take a shower, Bizzy can set clothes out for Master Harry Potter."

Harry frowned and asked, "What clothes?" He was almost positive Voldemort hadn't transported his truck here as well. Perhaps something had been arranged. Sure enough the house elf walked to the wardrobe and opened it to reveal several robes. Harry got out of bed to survey them. Just like the room, the robes were plain. Mostly black, Harry also made out a few green as well as one red robe—much to Harry's surprise. He rubbed the nearest sleeve between his thumb and finger finding the material silky and probably well made (he, unlike Malfoy, wasn't an expert in these matters).

"Is that the robe youse be wanting to be wearing, Master Harry?" The house elf was nervously wringing her hands, perhaps thinking Harry might be upset.

"Sure, why not? You said something about a shower?"

Bizzy jumped up and down, "Oh yes Master Sir! That room there be the shower! Go Master and Bizzy be getting everythings ready."

At Bizzy's insistence, Harry found himself in the bathroom holding a fluffy towel and dressing gown. He closed the door and looked around. It was a nice room, not too spacious, but more than adequate for one teenage wizard. The color scheme stayed true to the bedroom although in here they were muted as if the room carried a permanent fog. Harry stepped up to the mirror and took a moment to take in his appearance. Nothing had really changed; he looked tired, but that was to be expected after the events of last night. He pulled his pajama shirt off to take a look at the necklace Voldemort had spelled on him last night.

It was made out of bright gold. While it didn't choke him, the necklace fit snugly around his neck, and even though it could be taken for jewelry, Harry firmly believed it was fashioned more as a collar than anything. The chain was thick and with its tightly interlocked links, the necklace's overall appearance was snakelike. Harry gave an uncomfortable shudder at the thought that he really had a golden snake coiled around his neck.

He pealed off the rest of his pajamas and turned on the shower, relishing in the warm temperature of the water. As he soaped up, his thoughts turned to all the vents that had transpired so far. Voldemort had certainly been much nicer than on their previous encounters. Of course, even a slap to the face—literally—was better than the way Voldemort had treated him the last time they were together. How was this going to work? Voldemort teaching him magic. Would he be forced to learn illegal curses? Would Voldemort make him use Dark Magic against his friends? Harry sighed. He found that while he was uncomfortable with Voldemort as a teacher, he was actually more uncomfortable with not knowing what his future looked like. At least at Hogwarts every year thus far had had a rather predictable schedule.

Done washing, he turned off the water, dried off, and donned the dressing gown. In the bedroom, Bizzy had disappeared, but his clothes for the day were laid out on top of the recently made bed. Harry quickly changed, a little disconcerted that the robes fit him perfectly.

He ran the towel through his hair one more time and spotted a pair of shoes at the foot of the bed. He slipped them on and tried to open the door, much like he did the night before. This time, however, the door gave to reveal a masked Death Eater. The black robed man (or woman Harry couldn't tell) nodded at him and started walking down the corridor. Before he could think of traveling in the opposite direction, Harry felt a pulling sensation and couldn't resist following. After several hallways he did find if he kept only a few steps in between him and the Death Eater he felt less like a dog on a leash.

He played with the idea engaging the Death Eater into conversation but thought better of it. To pass the growing silence Harry took in the corridors they were walking through. This part of building had very few decorations. A few tapestries, some statues, and vases broke up the sections of empty wall. Harry was surprised to see absolutely no portraits whatsoever and found their absence almost startling. It had taken him more than a month his first year to comfortably walk alone down the hallways of Hogwarts and not jump every time a throat cleared off to his left or someone greeted him on his right. Once he got used to it, though, he rather liked the company the portraits gave.

As the two walked the tapestries became vibrant and more majestic; the statues taller and more awe-inspiring; the vases larger and more detailed. Harry deduced his quarters were located in some guest wing; this was where the real action took place.

Their walk continued and Harry found himself surprised at how large the place was. Surely it hadn't taken this long to get to his room last night? Maybe they weren't going back to that study at all. In answer to his current musings, the Death Eater stopped in front of a pair of doors and opened the right hand one. His tour guide motioned for Harry to enter. It was a dining room—perhaps the dining room for the space was quite large. Death Eaters sans masks and hoods sat along the long table in clusters of fours or fives with several chairs in between each group. Harry was just able to spot Voldemort at the head of the table engaged in a serious looking conversation with a handful of men and women. There was a relaxed atmosphere to the room, and Harry felt himself on edge because this was not how he would picture meal times with Voldemort, the man who fashioned himself a lord.

A slight nudge in his back reminded Harry that he still had company. The Death Eater prompted Harry farther up the table to an open seat across from Severus Snape. Harry felt his face flush with anger at seeing the man and remembering his part in why Harry was even here in the first place. Yet their private conversation last night made him pause. Snape had been surprisingly candid, almost decent to Harry the night before. Maybe, just maybe, he would see how this all played out before he started yelling. Therefore, feeling rather Slytherin, Harry allowed himself to be seated—without a fuss. Snape raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Sleep well?" It wasn't a sincere inquiry, and Harry half suspected it was meant to goad him; he answered anyway.

"I did. Thanks for asking, Professor."

"I like to maintain a passing interest in your welfare. Feel free to help yourself, provided you eat with some decorum." Snape waved a hand over the various food items within reach. Just like at Hogwarts there were steaming dishes of eggs and potatoes; piles of perfectly browned toast and bacon; bowls of porridge and yogurt. Harry filled up his plate and tucked in hungrily.

"You will be happy to note that your education will commence this morning, Mr. Potter," Snape said while surveying Harry over his teacup. "Can't have you lazing about when we put so much effort into getting you here."

Harry paused in between bites, "Will I get my wand back for the lessons?" He wondered if he could figure a way out of this bonding business.

"No, I am afraid this is not possible at the moment."

"Why not?" Harry demanded, his Slytherin coolness was rapidly fading away. He noticed several Death Eaters turn in their direction to listen in.

"Because, Mr. Potter," Snape began with a strange smile on his face, "The nature of your studies today does not require a wand."

"And what will I be learning?" Honestly, trying to get information out of the man was like trying to get a fully-grown mandrake out of the ground.

"What else would you be learning? Magic of course! Do you even use your brain, boy? No wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor; Ravenclaw would have had to drop her standards completely."

Harry dropped his fork. A few Death Eaters listening began to chuckle, and he felt a familiar resentment rising towards Snape. It was just like Potions all over again. Tightening his jaw, Harry looked up at the black robed man. "How do I learn magic without a wand, sir?"

Snape's lips quirked at Harry's obvious frustration, "Manners, Mr. Potter. It is simple really, but if I told you how that would be giving away the lesson, wouldn't it? Now finish your meal, like a good lad."

Harry viciously grabbed his fork and speared some egg pretending it was one of Snape's dark eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a woman lean over to speak. She was pretty, beautiful too, even if it made him blush a little to admit it. Her curly hair was golden colored and fashionably pulled back, giving Harry a clear view of her elegant features and striking silver-blue eyes. When she spoke it was with confidence that she needn't raise her voice to be heard.

"Honestly Severus, there is no sport in provoking Gryffindors. They are simply too dull-minded to pick up on the subtleties of conversation and merely take every comment as an insult." Her eyes flickered over to Harry who bristled at her words. He straightened in his chair and opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind. Then, with uncharacteristic insight, Harry realized any verbal retaliation would be playing right into her hand. Instead, like a small child, he settled for leveling a fierce glare at the interloper and continued eating. She laughed briefly; it was a bright laugher and did not belong to a follower of Voldemort. "The Golden Boy is capable of restraint. You painted such a bleak picture of him, Severus."

Snape shook his head, "Forgive me, Madam Lochrin, but I must differ with your assessment. Potter is merely trying to prove a point at the moment. The true test will come when he is angry. I suspect we will not need to wait for long."

The woman, this Madam Lochrin, nodded in agreement, "I shall have to see what I can do with him then."

Done with his meal, Harry pushed his plate away and decided to break his brief silence. "I am right here, you know."

The two exchanged a look before the blonde woman said, "Hush child, the adults are talking."

Before anything else could be said silence descended in the room. Harry looked around before he followed everyone else's gaze to the head of the table where Voldemort stood, observing those at the long table.

"My trusted Death Eaters," he began, "I am sure by this point you have noticed a new addition to our group." Voldemort paused and seemed to allow himself a smile. Snickers and not a few whispers broke out but were stifled quickly. "Harry Potter arrived last night and will be spending the next two years under our tutelage. To that effect, know that he is under my protection until he does come of age. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the Death Eaters answered in chorus.

"Good. Carry on." Voldemort sat back down and addressed the man to his right. Conversations began again as some Death Eaters finished eating. Others pushed away from the table and made off to start their various duties as servants to a dark lord. Harry looked back across the table and was surprised to find Snape's chair empty.

"Shall we, Mr. Potter?" The Potions Master as well as the blonde haired woman stood behind him.

It was a simple question, but it felt like a crossroads. Every fiber of Harry's body told him to fight, to not give in, and to not make it easy for them. By being complacent he felt like he was giving them his permission to mold him into a soldier for the Dark forces. But he couldn't forget Snape's words from the night before. Back at Hogwarts he could never get away from being The-Boy-Who-Lived. Anytime he walked down a corridor people would whisper or point, obviously talking about him. While it pained him to admit it (and oh how it pained him) Snape had a point. No one had so much as glanced his way at breakfast until Voldemort had made his announcement. Despite being Voldemort's most hated enemy he hadn't even gotten so much as a glare yet. Maybe he could do this. He rather liked the idea of not playing Atlas for a while.

Harry stood up and faced his professor. He met the man's eyes squarely and nodded.

"Good," said Snape obviously pleased, "As Dumbledore is prone to say, 'Education waits for no wizard.'"

Author's note: So not much happened, but it is a chapter. Thanks for sticking around. As a peace offering of sorts for not updating in forever I complied a list of stories I've read and liked in my profile. Check it out, and do let me know if you have any you think I should add/read.

To answer a question posed by Godwolf Fenrir (if you even remember asking it): I meant for the idea of wards around Gryffindor Tower to be a possibility. Harry was hoping Dumbledore had placed them so Pettigrew would get caught, and Harry could potentially be saved. I agree though, Peter does not seem like the type to break through any wards, much less ones put up by Dumbledore.