The Furnace

ore: [noun] 2. (Mining) A native metal or its compound with the rock in which it occurs, after it has been picked over to throw out what is worthless.

I sighed as I returned the near-potion to a boil for the thirteenth time, watching as the billowing steam from the cauldron lightened to a lavender color, but didn't turn the pure white needed to complete the brewing.

Damn. Cooling again, then, and adding another pinch of powdered Mandrake root. I really don't have time for this today...

Being one of the youngest potions masters in the country will get you a lot more work for a little more pay. I've heard it before and now I know if first-hand.

Stupid Ministry. They take a brilliant, pure-blooded wizard like me and make me work in a blasted potions shop on Diagon Alley. I swear, when I'm done playing this little bastard-with-a-heart-of-gold role, I'm packing up my things and moving my shop to Knockturn Alley instead.

Well, the Dark Lord will be finished with the fucking Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers soon. Once we've killed them all, I can stop holding up this damned facade and get to work on something challenging.

A knock on the door rouses me from my musings.

"What?"

"Let me in, Severus. I'd like to tell you about last night's festivities."

Of course. Lucius Malfoy loves to brag. He brags about killing people almost as much as he brags about how much money he has.

I reluctantly open the door and then set the cauldron to heat again, keeping it in the edge of my field of vision as I look disdainfully at Lucius.

"Did it ever occur to you that while some people can subsist on illegal activity alone, others actually need to work?"

Lucius is looking overdressed. His robes today are royal purple, with black ones underneath, and there is black and silver embroidery all over the damned things. His hair is slicked back, not a stray strand to be seen. He has a couple of rings on too.

In other words, he looks perfectly normal, for a Malfoy.

The potion starts to bubble as he begins his boastful recount of last night's murders. Three Aurors, torture, rape, Unforgivable curses... pretty boring, usual stuff. I've seen enough of these little Auror/Mudblood/Muggle exterminations. All the same. Personally, I find the rapes to be counterproductive, seeing that we are trying to exterminate the Muggles and not breed with them, but usually the victims are corpses a few hours later.

"And of course I used a bit of that poison you gave me a week ago, as well. The blue one."

Now that got my attention. Not turning from the cauldron, which is finally emitting white steam, I begin to add the final ingredients to make, of all things, a healing potion. I do, however, indulge in a nice smirk as he describes the results of what had been an experiment for me.

"...worked nicely. What was it?"

"An experimental reversal of the Skele-Gro potion, mixed with a Bleeding Draught." I turn off the heat under the finished potion and turn to look at Lucius. Oh, cool and collected I am usually, but I can't help smiling wickedly as he describes how the three people had just-

"Melted! It was truly disgusting, I must commend you for it. And of course they could have survived if you hadn't caused the internal bleeding that finished them off. I think one of them was still trying to escape as her bones started dissolving. A classmate of ours! Adelaide Butler. Its really too bad, she would have made a fine assistant to you, Severus, if she hadn't been a filthy Mudblood."

Somewhere inside I feel a pang of guilt as I hear her name. Butler had been a year below me in Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw. She had been excellent at Potions.

I push away the fleeting feeling. If you allow one in, you'll allow more in. Purity doesn't work that way. We want a pure wizarding race, not one mixed with the blood of useless Muggles.

---

It's about six o'clock and I've just stepped out of a fireplace and into a shop on Knockturn alley with Lucius.

Oh, yes. I take advantage of him. He pays for my more... illicit potions ingredients. Such as unicorn blood, which is what I'm after today.

We've walked only a few feet, however, when a pain suddenly bursts into life on my left arm. Lucius and I have stopped short and, despite being trained not to show any pain, have both grabbed our left arms with our right hands. The only other inhabitant of the shop, the owner, has done the same. Wordlessly, we take out our wands and Apparate.

---

I stop for a moment in my small house, grab my robes and mask, and disappear again.

I reappear in a what looks to be a the ballroom of a ridiculously large house. The Muggle-type lights are all on, and I take notice of what most others miss: although we Apparated here within seconds of the call, my wife has beat us to the mark again. She stands fifteen feet from the Dark Lord, facing him.

I go to stand next to her, beginning to form a circle. She nods in my direction, then turns back to the Dark Lord. Lucius stands on my left, leaving a gap for the perpetually late Crabbe and Goyle.

A few minutes later and the circle is complete. Voldemort calls a young woman named Allendale to the center of the circle. They speak for a moment in hushed tones, and she gives him a small vial with several hairs inside. She returns to the circle.

Next called is Avery. He faces Voldemort for mere seconds before the Dark Lord hisses the Cruciatus Curse at him. I cringe, remembering the last time that happened to me.

Next is Goyle, then Malfoy. Crabbe is also given a dose of the Cruciatus and I wonder what job the blockhead bungled this time.

I feel the mark on my arm burn and walk to the center of the circle. I can't help worrying when I get to the center. Everyone does, after experiencing Voldemort's wrath for the first time. I kneel in front of him, then stand up for his orders.

"Severus Snape... I have two tasks for you tonight."

"Yes, My Lord."

He hands me the vial procured by Allendale.

"You will use the hairs in this vial to make a large supply of Polyjuice Potion. I expect it soon."

I know better than to ask to whom the hairs belong. I can always find out by testing the Polyjuice.

"And MacBride will be bringing a visitor to your home tonight. Find out everything he knows about the newest wards placed on the Ministry. Then kill him."

"Yes, My Lord."

"That is all. Return to your place."

Thank the gods. The last potion he told me to brew was so difficult I couldn't finish it on time. He'd cursed me long and hard for that.

I could brew Polyjuice in my sleep.

---

The meeting ends at eight and the majority of the circle begin Apparating home. Lucius asks if I'd like to go out Muggle-terrorizing. But I've got an assignment.

I Apparate home and take off my mask. Juliette isn't back, which means I can steal a few moments of true relaxation before I have to kill whomever she brings back. I go to the tiny study near the kitchen and pull out the book I've been reading, called "Poisons Without Antidotes: A Guide to the Silent Deaths." It's not large, due to the small number of incurable poisons, and the recipes are hideously difficult.

I love it. It was one of Lucius's more thoughtful gifts.

I've just settled down to read my book when I hear a noise in the basement. Damn, she's got him already.

I walk down the stairs quite casually, only to be snapped at by my wife:

"Go get your cauldron and supplies! And bring a sharp knife!"

Oh. So she wanted me to make another of the Blood Poisons.

I go back up the stairs and retrieve what I need, as well as a vial of antidote in case she wants to keep him alive longer. Upon returning downstairs, I see that she's disarmed the man and tied him to a chair. The man is well built and probably as tall as I am. He's got a sack over his head as well, which is what he usually agree on for torture victims. It means I can take off my mask to brew the potions we use, and it's also more intimidating to the victim.

I levitate the cauldron and set up a blue flame underneath, then begin adding ingredients, mostly illegal. I hate to waste things, so I've brought down the smallest one I have, which I can hold in one hand. Hard to stir, but oh well.

It takes about twenty minutes to make the base for the potion, during which the man, undoubtedly another Auror, makes no sound at all. It becomes a bit unnerving after a while.

My wife is used to watching me, and a moment before I say it's ready, she speaks. "Give me the knife," she says. I hand it to her and watch as she delicately places the tip of the blade on the Auror's left wrist. She's waiting for him to beg, I know it, and I watch with some interest. He says nothing.

"Well, it looks like we have the upper hand, Muggle-lover. Aren't you going to beg me for your life?"

Nothing.

"Say something!"

Nothing.

"Fine then." In two swift motions she slits the man's wrists, and his blood begins to pool on the stone floor.

He remains silent. She remains still. We wait, and wait, until the man's head begins to droop backward from the blood loss. She then collects the blood she needs and stops the bleeding.

I finish the potion and carry a cup of it to the man. Juliette holds her hand up to stop me and says to the man quite clearly, "If you cooperate, we will Obliviate you and give you the antidote. Otherwise, you will die." She steps out of the way and I wave my wand at the man.

"Imperio."

Juliette lifts the bottom of the sack on his head and holds the cup to his lips. I make him swallow it, and then release the curse.

Juliette then removes the sack from his head.

Oh, dear, merciful gods.

The man has very short, red hair and a red moustache. His eyes are dark brown, and he has a birthmark on the left side of his face. He stares directly at me with a look of the purest surprise, betrayal and disappointment that I've ever seen.

His name is Soren Anderson. A former Slytherin. Now an Auror.

I know him.

My name is the first thing he speaks. His voice is already laced with pain.

I know I'm standing with my mouth open, being useless. But somehow I can't bring myself to begin asking questions. Why would a pure-blooded wizard become a Muggle-lover?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, another voice asks, "Why would a pure-blooded wizard kill another?"

I'm useless. Juliette pushes me aside and begins her interrogation. I watch from a few feet away as he fights the pain and loses, screaming as the poison starts to break down muscle, bone, nerve, and connective tissue.

She gets her answers by dangling the vial of phosphorescent antidote in front of him. He gasps as he tells her the spells used to protect the Ministry buildings in London, the spells used to protect the Aurors in their homes, and even some of the wards used on Hogwarts to prevent Death Eaters from entering. Juliette's overachieving.

Satisfied, she walks over to where I stand.

"You've done well. Your antidote." Juliette hurls the bottle at the floor, leaving a glowing splatter on the stone.

"No," Soren gasps, his voice spluttering. I know this stage. He's bleeding from his nose now, and I can see red streaks coming from his ears as well. His eyes seem to have lost the ability to move and stare relentlessly at me.

Juliette is watching his suffering with interest.

I'm trying desperately to regain the cold, unfeeling facade that I usually show to our victims, but as I open my mouth to say something cutting, the vision of this man as a boy comes to mind. He is cheering for Slytherin at a Quidditch match, and I am sitting two rows behind him. It had been my first time to a school game.

Soren's coughing violently, and his lips are stained red. He's dying. I feel paralyzed.

"Severus... how could you? You took-" He's interrupted by a fit of bloody coughs. "The wrong path." His head falls forward in exhaustion: he lost the strength to scream ten minutes ago.

I would have been more puzzled by his cryptic remark if Juliette hadn't spoken up at that moment.

"You know this bastard, Severus?"

I gather my wits. "He's just someone who went to school with me. I'm surprised he remembered my name." The end of my sentence is punctuated by silence. Soren's stopped breathing.

Juliette places a finger on his bloodied neck. I suppose she finds what she wants, for she reaches into a pocket and removes an object wrapped in cloth. Carefully, she opens the cloth, not touching the pebble inside, and presses Soren's finger to the Portkey. He's gone, presumably to the Ministry.

I'm not feeling well. I mutter an excuse to my wife and start up the basement stairs.