Snape picked up a black bag and began filling it with various potions, bandages, and healing salves. He knew Voldemort would not approve of any measures more than what was strictly needed to keep Potter alive, but he had hopes of sneaking Potter some of the healing potions in an effort to ease his pain and ensure his continued survival.

The last thing he placed in his bag was the tubing that would act as a portkey, and several nutrient potions. When his supplies were all in order, he slipped on his Death Eater robes, slid on his mask, and stood in the center of his rooms clutching a muggle pocket watch. Within minutes, the watch grew warm and began to glow with a faint blue hue, and Snape suddenly disappeared from sight.

Meanwhile, at a large, decrepit manor, hundreds of miles away, Voldemort and several of his followers, mainly those in his inner circle, had gathered for a meeting, which was to be followed by an evening of entertainment. Voldemort would be bringing out his favorite toy for everyone to play with...Harry Potter.

Snape arrived in a large cell in the dungeons where he was greeted by two other Death Eaters he had never seen before. As he looked to his left and right, he could see that this particular cell had been set up as some type of retreat for the guards. The room had a small table set up with a few straight-backed wooden chairs around it, and a ratty looking old couch pushed up against the far wall with a couple of old wizarding magazines and yesterday's issue of the Daily Prophet sitting on one of it's faded cushions.

"You ‘ere to fix up Potter?" asked the shorter of the two, with a heavy accent.

"Of course." Snape snapped, waiting for one of them to lead the way there. After a few seconds, Snape's patience wore thin. "Well, are you going to show me which cell he's in, or would you like me to go knocking door to door?"

The short one who spoke earlier gave a little jump and scrambled out the door and into the small, dark corridor beyond. Snape followed at a brisk pace as the guide led him to the end of the corridor and then down another corridor to the right where, if possible, it was even darker, the only light coming from a small torch attached by a bracket to the wall halfway down the length of it.

The short man stopped walking abruptly, yanked a large ring of keys out of a pocket in his black robes, and then flipped through the keys one at a time until finally inserting one of them into the lock on the heavy oak door that they were standing next to.

"This ‘ere be his cell," the man stated proudly, as if he had done Snape some great service. Snape, however, was not impressed. He impatiently pushed the man aside with his shoulder and swung the door open. At once, a putrid smell hit his face as he stepped into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the heavier darkness, it became apparent what was causing most of the stench. In the far corner of the room sat a bucket which was obviously being used as some sort of toilet. From the look and smell of the thing, it had not been cleaned out in quite some time.

As Snape let his eyes wander from where the bucket sat to the opposite side of the room, he finally saw Potter. The boy was lying on a table that sat near the far wall. His wrists and ankles had thick, metal cuffs around them and each had been fastened by a short length of chain to a metal ring that protruded from each corner of the table. The dim light in the chamber wasn't sufficient enough to allow Snape to properly see the boy, but as he stepped closer and cast Lumos, he promptly stopped all movement towards the child. Potter was a mess.

Taking a moment to steady himself, Snape made his way closer, and walked all the way around him, taking in the damage to the boy, and determining what injuries were the most life-threatening. It would be good to alert Poppy so she could be prepared. But upon closer inspection of Potter's back, Snape was taken aback at the amount of damage that had been done.

The skin on the boy's back could barely be seen due to the damage he had suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord and his followers. There were whip marks, dark purple bruises, and even some wounds that looked as if he might have been stabbed. Some of the wounds were bleeding, while some were slowly oozing puss due to infection.

The boy's abused body was near skeletal from the small rations and self-induced starvation, and he even seemed to be sporting several broken bones, the most obvious being the wrists and the right leg due to the funny angles in which these limbs were laying. Snape's eyes roamed lower down the boy's body and saw the dried up, crusty looking blood that made an ominous trail from his backside, down each of his inner thighs. Snape closed his eyes in disgust; he would never be able to understand how someone could do this to a child. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the Death Eater who had followed him into the room.

"Don't take his cuffs off."

Snape remained quiet, but shot the man a questioning look.

"As of late, every time we un-cuff him to move him ‘round a bit, he starts hurtin' himself. It was right funny at first, watchin' him claw at his skin or bash his head on the wall, but the last time he did it, he busted his head up so bad he would have died if a healin' spell hadn't been cast on him." Then, the man added with a chuckle, "The Dark Lord wants to keep his new plaything around as long as possible, you know."

Snape strode forward and crouched at the side of the table to get a good look at Potter's face. Although it was hard to see well due to the angle at which it was turned, Snape was still able to see that one of Potter's eyes was dark and purple, swollen almost completely shut. The other was clenched shut of its own accord, and Potter's jaw was clenched, in what Snape thought to be, preparation for another torture session. There was a large, bloody gash along the hairline that left half of the boy's scalp caked over in dried blood. That must be were he smashed his head, Snape deduced. He leaned over to Potter's bloody ear and tried to get his attention.

"Potter."  No response.

"Potter!" Still no response.

Snape lightly touched the boy's shoulder and that most assuredly got a response. The battered child opened his mouth and began screaming. It might have been quite loud if he hadn't already screamed his throat completely raw weeks ago. Snape tuned out the hoarse screams, but the look of pure terror and anguish that the boy's face held was heartbreaking for Snape to witness.

Knowing he had a job to do, he enlisted the help of the other man in order to position Potter's body in such a way as to allow Snape to insert the feeding tube. Together, they released the cuffs and rolled his patient's weakened body over before reattaching the restraints.

"Hold his head straight and still," Snape instructed his unwilling assistant. Begrudgingly, the other fellow grabbed Potter's face with both of his meaty hands and waited for Snape to finish. Snape pulled out the feeding tube, and with quiet proficiency, started guiding the thin rubber tube up the boy's nose and down his throat. He gagged and sputtered for a few seconds at one point, but went back to screaming and struggling seconds later. Snape quickly attached a bag filled with a nutrient mix and, after a quick spell, the bag was left floating in the air above the table, allowing gravity to force the contents of the bag through the tube.

With that messy chore finished, Snape followed his guide out of the dungeons, up several sets of stairs, and through a set of large ornately carved doors that led into a cavernous room where many Death Eaters were milling about, having just finished up their meeting. The room was decorated mostly in a deep, rich red, with large tapestries hanging on almost every available wall surface. There was a large dais on the right of the room with nothing upon it but a grand throne-like chair that looked as if it was carved out of a single large section of a tree. The carved snakes wound their way over nearly the entire surface of the chair's legs and back, and there was a plush, silky black cushion on the seat of the chair. As Snape stood at the back of the room observing his surroundings, a smooth hissing voice grabbed his attention as it began speaking from close behind him.

"Severusss"

Snape whipped around and quickly lowered himself to the floor, kissing the hem of Voldemort's flowing black robe. He held his position for a few seconds, until that same voice commanded him, "Up."

Snape rose, keeping a stoic look on his face, and looked to the Dark Lord before speaking, "My Lord, ask what you will of me."

Voldemort raked over Snape's body as if measuring him up, "Tell me my servant, did you attend to our young guest?"

Swallowing back his feelings of hatred and disgust for the creature before him, Snape answered, "Of course, my Lord. You must be proud of owning such a fine new toy."

"That I am, Severus. And he makes such delicious noises every time he is taken...He has become quite a favorite among most of the inner circle. Would you like a turn as well?"

"You are too generous my Lord, but I cannot. That bumbling old fool Dumbledore will notice my absence if I am gone much longer, and I am expected to attend a meeting with several of the other professors in less than an hours time."

"Then you are free to leave, but I expect you back soon with news on the Order's activities or you might outlive your usefulness. Now be gone." And with this, Voldemort waved his hand at Snape as one might when shooing off a stray dog. Not being one to over stay his welcome when it comes to the Dark Lord, Snape swiftly made his exit, sweeping through the main doors of the manor and out into the stillness of the night. As soon as he crossed the anti-apparition barriers, he transported himself to Hogwarts to help ready the hospital wing for the arrival of The-boy -who-lived-and-was-broken.