Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Humpty Dumpty

'Stand up straight, you unworthy little bastard!'

'Don't you dare cry; you are not fit to weep in my presence!'

'If you vomit, you will eat it, I swear! Pig boy, dross, less than dirt!'

'Call yourself my Grandson? Worthless effluvium of a broken bitch, scrapings of a diseased womb!

'Faint and I will castrate you; move and you will be broken.'

"I will not break, Grandmother."

It was a mumbled reaffirmation of Professor Snape's will to survive, unconsciously promised against the tumble of memory that ran unchecked through his damaged mind.

"What did he say? Did you catch that? Merlin! Arthur, where do we start? There is so much damage, so much physical trauma. Where do we start?" Molly wailed as she looked down on the broken and bloody pile of meat that had been laid on her newly scrubbed table. That this was what was left of a human being after that monster - who bloody well shouldn't be named...ever - had finished with them, was hard to believe. Hard to believe that this scourged and mangled lump had been someone they knew and spoke to regularly. The kitchen table was no place for such a badly injured man, nor was 12 Grimmauld Place, but there was no choice. They didn't dare move him again for fear of losing him completely. And even if they did manage to transport him to St Mungo's the odds were that the Death Eaters would arrive a few minutes later and finish the job their master had started.

Molly bit her lip and picked up her wand, carefully dissolving the heavy canvas Death Eater robe's hood away from the Potions Master's face. He didn't move a muscle, not even his eyelids flickered. Emboldened, Molly touched the tip of her wand to the limp, mangled hand laying closest to her, ready to begin a simple healing spell. Despite the delicacy of her touch, the meat convulsed, the exposed tendons and sinews contracted and twitched, making broken bones grate. An artery on the back of his hand burst, the blood squirting rhythmically onto the scrubbed board of the table. Molly gasped in horror and withdrew her wand immediately.

"Oh Gods! He has suffered the Cruciatus Curse to the point of madness, every nerve and sinew scoured to a fever-pitch of tenseness! If we touch him, he is going to tear himself apart in convulsions," Roger snapped, staying Molly's hand instantly. "We have to get some muscle relaxant potion into him as fast as possible and as much as is humanly possible for him to bear, or he's going to tear himself into doll rags. Merlin knows what mental state he's going to be in, if we can keep him alive long enough for him to regain consciousness. Anyone suffering this much damage is usually reduced to a complete basket case like the Longbottoms were."

"Do you think it's truly hopeless? Do you think he has suffered that much?" Molly asked in despair, disentangling her hand carefully and stepping away. "We... we owe him so much. Personally, I mean. Arthur and I. He saved Charlie's life when he was taken in the raid on the dragon farms and... and he brought the boys home when they were killed last year. Is there nothing we can do for him, or are we just going to have to stand here and let him die?"

Roger patted her shoulder. "You know the saying, where there's life there's hope? He's still alive so we had better hope Poppy has some other secret medi-wizard magic up her sleeve."

"Arthur? Gods above!" Poppy Pomfrey arrived in a flurry of ash and exclamations a few minutes later and took a moment to clean off. Then, fully apprised of the situation, she immediately set to work on the injured man without a flinch. With wand held steady, the medi-witch began the series of spells she had learned in St Mungo's from the healers in charge of the Longbottoms and others who had resided in the special ward. She had also learned a few things herself over the years and drew on every ounce of her hard-won skills to suppress her very real upset at the condition of a valued colleague.

The charms were designed to help reduce the tremors and stop the victim's own muscles and sinews from tearing themselves free of the bones as they tightened and writhed under the residual effects of the curse. Ironically, Severus Snape had been one of the pioneers of the technique, drawing on experience he had undoubtedly picked up during the First Voldemort War, although he would not confess to such a thing. It was a very tricky spell to use, much like its maker: too little and it was as effective as pouring alcohol on a house fire; too much and the patient's involuntary muscles ceased to hold tension. Unfortunately, when a heart muscle stopped holding tension, it stopped, and so did the person.

To add even more complications, the spell was cumulative; it could not be reversed. The only way to control the dosage was by adding power to the original spell in tiny increments. Regrettably, you could not cancel the last increment on its own if you made a mistake. The whole spell had to be cancelled completely, which was usually disastrous for the sufferer as the convulsions that had been held in check hit all at once in one giant wave. So it took practice to apply the healing magic in just the right amounts and to judge when to stop administering the charm.

Roger hovered nearby, watching like a hawk as the older woman worked; she continued to cast in fractions of the spell that seemed far too small to him. Severus Snape was all of six feet six inches tall, if he was an inch, and the charm worked on body mass. Roger felt she could have started with a more significant amount, then added in much larger increments at the beginning, but Poppy never faltered in her casting, stopping far sooner than Roger thought she should.

"Will that be enough?" he was forced to ask as Poppy stood back from the bed and watched her patient intently. "I mean, he's quite a large man, you know?"

"Severus is long, that much is true, but he barely weighs in at ten stone, if he's lucky. The man doesn't eat enough to keep a very small sparrow alive, I assure you. Under that forbidding black robe and laser sharp glare there's hardly enough substance to animate a skeleton," Poppy informed him grimly. "I kept nagging him to eat more, but the man lives on his nerves, has done for years. Look, trust me on this one, Roger; he has been my patient far too frequently for me to overestimate his weight. I have been Severus' main medical practitioner for the best part of three decades, and I do know him rather well."

Shaking his head, Roger acquiesced and stood back as the final dose of spell took hold. The hand nearest him slowly uncurled from its claw-like clench, the fingers straightening then curving into a more relaxed position. Broken bone splinters slid through the mangled meat and seemed to be trying to realign of their own accord once the terrible tension in the sinews had been relieved. Obviously the man's own magic was still present and trying desperately to come to his aid even unconsciously. Poppy shot Roger a triumphant smile as she grabbed the nearest bottle of the potion that made up the second line of treatment for the Cruciatus Curse. The potion made sure that the spell's effects were prolonged as long as possible, enhancing and stabilising the fragmented spell into a more harmonious and effective whole. It was not feasible to cast the same spell over the same victim for a further forty-eight hours, so any prolonging of the effect was most necessary.

At last, having waited a full three minutes to allow the potion to do its work, Poppy began cutting away the first layers of tattered and torn robes with an efficiency that spoke of long experience and much practice. Since it was not advisable to move the victim, the heavy robe had to be carefully sliced into small pieces and magically eased away from the flesh. Molly hummed in sympathy when the drying blood made the cloth adhere and the stickiness literally tore flesh away from bone as it came free. Even Poppy winced in unison as a particularly large tear opened wider despite all her care.

As each skeletally thin limb was exposed, the extent of the damage became more apparent and edged closer to fatal. It seemed amazing to the onlookers that such a thin, yellow man could leak so much deep red blood or show so much shredded red meat. Every time they touched or moved him in any way, they caused more harm than they healed. It was absolutely daunting, but there was no choice but to continue. Severus Snape had been punished deeply, thoroughly and extensively: flesh torn apart to expose bones, bones broken and pushed up through the skin, and in the case of one forearm, the meat flayed from the bone with surgical precision. Ironically enough, the only unscratched or untorn piece of flesh Molly could see from her post by the sink was the accursed Dark Mark that stood out so black and evil against Severus' pale yellow skin. It would take a lot of Skele-Gro to put Severus back together again, not to mention muscle knitting, skin growing and blood replenishment potions which would be needed by the bucketful.

"Shall I remove his necklace?" Molly asked the two healers when the thin golden chain bearing a beautifully etched snake pendant came into sight. It was a delicate piece, beautifully made and quite ancient, but jewellery was not really something one would associate with Severus Snape.

Poppy glanced up distractedly. "Yes, that would be a good idea, I suppose."

Molly picked up the chain and tried to find a clasp but it appeared solid. Then she tried to slip it over his head without disturbing Roger's spell but the chain was too short. Finally, she tried to snap the chain but it proved too solid for that. A small crease added yet another furrow to the already impressive frown on her face. "I can't get it off," she muttered in disgust.

"Oh, just leave it," Roger dismissed absentmindedly, fully immersed in trying to contact some part of Snape's conscious mind and failing abysmally. "It's not that much in the way, just push it to one side and ignore it." All three promptly forgot about the delicate pendant almost instantly.

The more clothing they removed the more damage the three person medical team revealed. This was not the work of punishment, this was the result of a sadist running unchecked and wild. It was sickening to see how much damage had been inflicted on the man and, if Draco was to be believed, for no real reason, simply because He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named could. No inch of Snape's flesh had been spared, not even his toes, two of which were broken, the nails missing from both feet and hands. The skin of his chest and abdomen had been systematically sliced open, and only the remains of the tight undershirt he always wore stood between Snape and tipping his guts out onto the floor. A series of Acclaro spells revealed even more damage and trauma as they glowed into life. Internal organs were torn and split, crushed and bruised, one kidney mashed beyond even Poppy's most optimistic will to repair. Neither Poppy nor Roger had any idea of how Severus was still alive and breathing, but Molly thought it might have been pure stubborn contrariness on Severus' part keeping body and soul together.

"Even his heart is bruised and ready to burst at any second. If he does survive this, Arthur, he will never be as strong or robust as he was, possibly a complete physical invalid. If he survives, that is - and I don't guarantee his survival at this point. Gods above, I can't even guarantee he will still be breathing an hour from now, not with all this damage. He looks as if a crew of hit wizards with bludgers had worked on him for a few weeks," Poppy sighed and cast yet another spell over her fellow teacher's liver to reveal the extent of the damage and what needed to be done before they could restart function.

One step at a time, she built a picture of the splintered bones so that all the observers could see what was needed to fit them back together, besides infinite patience. Most of the larger bones looked like some three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, and many of the smaller bones were in no better condition.

"His brain is badly injured, too," Roger confessed heavily. "He has suffered a very hard blow to his skull, a physical blow, not a magical blow I think, whose impact shattered the bone in a star pattern from the point of contact outward. Where his skull has been fractured, there is extensive bruising on the brain itself, which is causing pressure to build up. If we can't let out the pressure, then the resulting bleeding will destroy the tissue it is pressing on. Just to complicate matters, he has surrounded his consciousness with Occlumency to hide his secrets, in effect becoming his own Secret Keeper. I have to admit that I am impressed by his sheer strength of mind. Unfortunately, that strength of mind is working against him in this case, and he has slipped into a loop of Occlumency which he doesn't seem to be able to step out of. Even if we can heal his body, I don't know if we can reach his mind. What I wouldn't give for Albus Dumbledore right now! Although not my favourite person, he was the only one I knew of who had either the skill or the ability at the level Severus Snape had reached, apart from perhaps Voldemort himself. Without a true master of the art I'm afraid no one can reach him."

The admission almost made Molly cry out rather than containing her tears to a silent rain down her face. The overall picture was so disheartening, just another blow to add to the many they had suffered over the past year since the Headmaster had been killed. Severus was not her favourite human being, but she had great respect for him as a person. The job he did was highly dangerous, but it had kept so many of their people alive and free. When Fred had been taken six months ago, George had literally felt his pain and mounted a wild, impossible rescue mission which had been doomed to failure even before he had been captured, too. Both boys had been terribly tortured and killed by the hungry pack of Death Eaters before any of the Order could even discover where they were being held. Severus had found out where they had been kept, but the information had been a fraction too late to save their lives. However, he had rescued their bodies and brought them home for burial in the Weasley plot, which had given both she and Arthur a measure of closure over the tragedy.

The shock of the twins' deaths had been so great that Molly had not questioned anything until much later and then, having seen first-hand what a pack of Death Eaters could do to a human being, she began to suspect Severus had done some impressive post mortem reconstruction of her boys. She could still remember the apology he had given her, as if he was personally responsible for their deaths. It had been the first real conversation they had ever had, and she had been struck by the deeply seated loneliness in the Potions Master's eyes that even he had possibly been unaware of.

Almost to compensate for his failure to bring the twins back alive, Snape had managed to get Charlie free when he had been captured by Mulciber during a raid on the dragon farms in Romania, the purpose of which they had never really discovered. There was no doubt Charlie had been tortured severely, his flesh mangled and torn. They had had to spend many days putting him back together again, but at least Charlie was still alive and as safe in Romania with his beloved dragons again as anywhere in their very troubled world. Sometimes Molly wished she could send Ron and Ginny off to Romania to stay with Charlie but they had to go to school especially when the future of Hogwarts was so precarious in these troubled times. A lot of people thought the place should be closed down and the children sent home to their families. Another faction was convinced that a central concentration of magic such as Hogwarts represented should not be left unattended and stagnant. The Wizarding World needed such strongholds alive and available to be sued in the Good fight against the evil the Death Eaters represented. And besides, Charlie wouldn't be able to cope with his two younger siblings, who would be equally unhappy if she tried to uproot them and separate them from Harry and the rest of their friends. Nor, she admitted to herself, would she be able to sleep if all of her babies were so far away from her, even if they would be safer. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, Molly turned back to her patient.

Poppy had finished the initial survey of the damage before they could start the serious work of repairing the internal injuries. Each organ had to be repaired and virtually renewed, so extensive was the damage. It was going to take every erg of magic they could scrape up between them and even then, it would be a close run thing. At a word from the medi-witch Molly turned her experience with so many boys' childhood mishaps on the broken and damaged limbs, supporting and conserving the medi-witch's energy by taking over the monitoring and renewing of the spells Poppy had already cast. Roger, muttering charms interspersed with the occasional tsk or soft curse, fought to save what was left, if anything, of Snape's brain and mind, which was his speciality.