Death Whispers

Chapter Eight - Deaths

Auchou, 24th December 1979

Unicorn blood, Severus discovered, when mixed with furosemide produced very interesting results. He had also discovered a potion that would cure it. By administering Phoenix Tears one could easily counteract the degenerative properties of the complex potion.

Damn! It was too simple.

He mused over the desk in front of him. The last two months had been largely uneventful. His steps forward in research had been smaller due to the ongoing war. The Ministry was still powerful especially in terms of research. They had the great minds working for them for a start. After many initial successes his work had come to a stalemate. The Ministry advancements put a continued strain on Severus. If it hadn't been for Rookwood and other Ministry spies they would have fallen. The battle was becoming more urgent, more deadly, and Severus was more at a loss.

He had however developed a potion to test the purity of blood. It had been a simple enough task and was now used by Death Eaters to test the purity of their spouses before marriage. Unfortunately two of the Weasleys had died in the preliminary testing due to unforeseen (although easily counteracted) problems. Severus had recorded his research meticulously. This had earned him the needed rewards from the Dark Lord. Severus' need for respect, recognition and power almost overcome him in this time.

He used the notation of 'subjects' to take a step back from the reality of his work. The research lab after the construction of a lieu of new curses had small fatality rates. The beauty of being in research is that trapped in the lab you couldn't see the end results of your work. Severus told himself he was working for the greater good when he was really just hoping to gain favour to get some more of that power he needlessly craved after the first taste.

This desire was driving him mad. He still had haunting dreams, the same colours, same emotions, and same terror surfaced night after night. By throwing himself into his endless pursuit of knowledge he sought to drown out these emotions.

His victims' faces became nothing more that failed hypothesis. Fortunately Severus' work seemed based more on statistics, rules and numbers than on lives. He neatly recorded the death of a subject in his margin. A tally, as these deaths were rudimentary to the end results.

After unlocking Methyl Isociyonate, he was squeamish although he failed to admit it. That potion had been one of the more frightening to watch. He stood safely on his side of the glass as he watched the Muggle on the other side swallow the potion on his Imperio. The effect was immediate and unstoppable.

Firstly, there had been the body's natural response to the poison - vomiting. This did little good but burn the insides on the way up like it had on the way down. The potion had already seeped into the flesh by then. The burning throat made it difficult for the man to breathe and his fingers turned a pale blue. It still managed to keep him alive though, however he could not talk, this pleased Severus as he hated to hear them plea for their lives. It was overdone and unoriginal. The burning began outside and he could see the eyes and skin whither before him. This burning would ultimately effect a person's mental state; the man stumbled around for a minute reaching out to nothingness. Desperate in a pain that would soon overcome him. Severus gripped his wand beside him almost ready to show mercy but death was not far off. After the skin burnt, the flesh had nowhere to hide. It corroded easily without protection. He would die from his slow disintegration or from blood loss. Whatever came first. It was a long death, a slow death, a death that Dolohov would be proud of, and were he here to watch, aroused by. This particular advancement had pleased the Dark Lord to no end.

His reward left him high for three days. He thought he would never come back down. He craved more, and pushing boundaries in a lab excited Severus in a new way. It was slow now, he was facing more difficult challenges and his mind constantly sat with the reward. He was trying to unlock eternal life for Lord Voldemort. In the meantime he had developed life strengthening potions and life lengthening potions using vile methods and Dark Arts, but he was no closer to his final goal.

He threw down his lab equipment and left the building. The place still stunk of death and as he walked around the concrete compound he had fleeting thoughts of leaving. Not that he wouldn't return. He needed this. He needed him. The Dark Lord who's punishments were nothing when compared to his promises, his rewards. Severus shivered and swallowed a potion from his pocket. His eyes fluttered thankfully as if clapping for the sweet release.

He had to slow down his own potion intake lately, as each hit left him with vivid images of that woman. Lallie Dolohov had called her.

Severus soon reached the cages of magical creatures. He had been using them in potions. The animals had been better cared for than the mudbloods. They could sense the place too. The animals could sense him coming to claim them. Their fear made them mount one another at the last minute.

He turned away rubbing his temples. It was all too much for one day. He would go to sleep but those dreams haunted him as well. Seeing aqua eyes and unwavering compassion. He just retired to his chambers and sat in the dark. He let it consume him. In the end it didn't matter if he was awake or asleep, nightmares always consumed him.

******

"Make no mistake, at some point we wizards must take action in the defense of our Magical, Racial and Political beliefs. We have long known the effect of the Muggle-born, the Muggle-born is the ferment of the decomposition of people. This means that it is in the nature of the Muggle-born to contaminate and weaken, because he lacks altogether any idea of working for the common good," Voldemort was saying to a crowd of loyal Death Eaters.

Severus' position in the inner circle had him standing directly in front of the Dark Lord he could feel his power radiate off him. Severus was anxious, he was wanting.

This meeting was like the others. Voldemort would award or punish his followers. The cause was almost secondary to Severus as he waited to be acknowledged, finally he would have a dreamless sleep.

It was said that in Nazi Germany there were political and social conditions that existed which enabled its success. The German condition it was called, the social structure at the time had placed a strong importance of accepting and trusting authority. They had a well established government run education system, strong patriotism and a strong economy. When people reflected on the time and wondered how the atrocities against humanity could ever have happened, how "people" could do this they came to a small and scary conclusion. They were ready, they were ingrained, it was there, Hitler like Voldemort was an awakening.

The old bloodlines were like that, conditioned almost, Severus turned to Voldemort attentive and believing. He hadn't thought any other way. These were established traditions, educated people, wealthy people with a strong sense of duty. Of course some joined for other reasons, like a fear or a lure of the Dark Arts. But on the main these people wanted to be here.

Damn, stupid Muggles, their evils! Damn Sirius Black, damn stupid Muggleloving Albus Dumbledore, the man who didn't value his life. Damn them! Severus felt the real anger and hatred around him. It was powerful, it was sincere. These weren't the delusions of a power crazy man. These were the feelings of the people, feelings that they didn't know existed, feelings that the Dark Lord used to gain their respect and service for his ultimate goal.

Severus needed the Dark Lord, he needed that power, that thrill. He waited restlessly as the Lord walked around the circle. Blessing some and paining others. And when he stopped in front of him Severus practically fell forward.

Voldemort smiled; Severus' hands were shaking and brow moist. His mouth parched with excitement. Voldemort stepped back and Severus was frightened for a moment.

"Our youngest Death Eater," he said loud enough for the group to hear. It was true, he was the youngest of the inner circle.

"My Lord," Severus murmured, kneeling as his body started to spasm in anticipation.

"I need to thank you for your new curses, Severus, eighteen new killing curses and they said you could only brew potions," he smiled, the madhatter's grin.

"Anything for you, my lord," Severus replied, and took in a deep breath, sucking the air around him to steady his head.

Voldemort swooped down and kissed him. The fire burnt straight though. The Dark Lord's wand was held at Severus' chest as he murmured quiet Latin. Pleasure soared though his skin and flooded his being. He earned this, he needed this. He passed out for a dreamless sleep.