The mansion that Tom brought him to was gorgeous, with beauty only paralleled by Hogwarts itself. However, it had a different sort of beauty than the castle. It was decorated lavishly but tastefully in the colors of silver and green, with serpentine themes throughout (one of Harry's favorite details). The doorknobs were all serpents' head, with glittering jewels for eyes. It especially put Harry at ease; this was a place he was not expected to be anyone but himself. Even his 'freakish' ability to talk to snakes was revered there.
Glowing with something akin to pride and contentment, Harry strolled through the house, taking it all in. Though he had been given the grand tour the night before, everywhere he looked he noticed things he had never seen before. A certain rug, an old tapestry, a cabinet of different jewels and other momentos. Tom claimed they were all from past accomplishments, and Harry was not curious enough to push too far into how on earth a pair of witch's glasses was a momento of an accomplishment.
He had yet to meet any Death Eaters; Tom had assured him that they were not going to be in the mansion for at least another day. So he had all of that time to get accustomed to the house, something he was thankful of. Though he had (somewhat officially) rennounced his position as the Light's scapegoat, he was still unsure of how to act to the people that pledged their lives to Tom. A few of them especially; Bellatrix, Snape, Malfoy.
He simply wasn't sure what to think of all of it. After all, Tom had explained to him that he was not a Death Eater, nothing like them. You are above them... was the words he had used, while rubbing Harry's back the night before. Above the Death Eaters? Even the Inner Circle? But... no one is higher than that... Except, well, Tom. He wasn't quite sure what to think of it, of being... equal? to Tom. It seemed like a lot to live up to, like people were putting their expectations upon him again.
Something he did not want.
Tom wasn't there at the moment; claimed he had business to attend to. He had left after claiming the boy's very soul in a searing kiss, disappearing into thin air as he tended to do. Running his fingers through his hair, he glanced around the empty mansion. Though he very much so enjoyed being there, it was odd to so alone. Never had he ever been in such a large place, completely alone, with no connection to the outside world. Reaching up, he gently ran his fingers over the mark on his neck, still unsure of what it meant, but soothed by the connection it gave him to Tom.
The man had explained to him the mark-somewhat. He informed him that it enabled them to communicate mentally; while their previous connection of souls enabled them to feel each others' emotions and give them a connection when they were sleeping, this gave each direct access to the other. They could hear word for word thoughts from the other, not just vague ideas of emotions. It would not diminish over distance, either; they could communicate as easily 3 continents away as three feet away.
Harry wasn't stupid, and Tom knew that. So, Tom knew that Harry knew that he wasn't telling the complete truth. The boy knew there was more to the mark than what he was being told, but he wasn't pushing it. It would all come out in due time, and he honestly wasn't afraid of being used, abused, or killed by the Dark Lord. It wasn't that he didn't think the man would do it, it was just the fact that he no longer cared. It was as simple as that.
Rubbing his stomach gently, he made his way into the kitchens, greeting the house elves with a smile. They all greeted him with vigor, pleased by the kindness of their new master. It wasn't often that they were treated so much as fairly, much less kindly. They all very much so loved him, though they had only met him the night before. Glancing around the clean, granite countertops, he grinned sheepishly. "I'm hungry," he said, lamely, giving no offer as to what he was hungry for.
All of the house elves nodded, their ears flapping wildly while they did. One of them, the closest to the stove, said to Harry, "This is good! The Master Voldemort is always telling of how Master Harry doesn't eat!" Chuckling a little to himself, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling up a stool to the island. Within minutes, a hot plate of food was set before him, steaming and beckoning for him to eat.
