E Pluribus Unum

Chapter 51 – Murder by Numbers

Severus watched patiently as the cauldron came to a slow boil. He added the next ingredient and then stepped back to observe the resulting color change. The deep azure blue shifted through the spectrum and turned a bright buttery yellow before it became perfectly clear. He allowed himself a small smile and waved away the flame, so that the now complete potion could cool.

“Beautiful.” A childlike voice whispered from out of the shadows and Severus turned, strangely unsurprised that she should be here in his lab.

“I have always thought so.” Severus replied and watched as Miss Mangle stepped out into the light. She was wearing plain Wizarding robes today, in a deep bloody red, her hair in golden ringlets around her face. Her large blue eyes were fixed on the cauldron, but they were troubled.

“You do it so effortlessly.” He wasn’t sure if she were referring to the potions making or to life in general.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He answered botssibssibilities and she gave him an appreciative smile.

“Fenchurch grows restless. Voldemort does not give him enough freedom to pursue his own goals.” Her voice had deeper resonance now, as though the adult she should have grown to be were speaking through the child’s vocal cords.

“It was obvious to anyone sane that their alliance wouldn’t last.” Severus replied and she chuckled, steeping up to peer into the cauldron.
“What is it?” She asked, her face all child’s curiosity. He smiled grimly.

“A deadly poison.” Cornflower-blue eyes gazed up at him in understanding.

“It looks quite innocent.”

“Many dangerous things look innocent, and many innocent things look dangerous.” He turned back to his papers and jotted down a few notes. The scratching of his quill was the only sound in the room for long moments.

“Why do you like me?” The wistful quality of the question caught him off-guard and he found himself answering more truthfully than he normally would have.

“Because we are so alike, I suppose.” Her surprised face made him sigh. “We have both done terrible things from a place of hurt and anger, we are both uncertain that we are doing the right thing anymore and we both are convinced that we are evil.” The demon child beside him shared his discomfited grimace.

“But I am evil, Severus. I am a demon. You can’t get much more evil than that, you know.” She was giving him an almost amused look.
“I was a Death Eater, still pretend to be one and I am a spy.” He countered. “Besides, you saved Miss Granger, helped my students and myself.” She gave him a dubious look.

“I could be pretending to be nice to lure you into a false sense of security.” She ventured and he snorted in amusement.

“The wards of Hogwarts have allowed you entrance which they would not have done had you meant any harm here.” She cocked her head to one side, still unconvinced. “Furthermore, the demon killing blade doesn’t respond to you.” He pulled the blade and she recoiled, but then paused in stunned amazement as no humming started up or celestial fire erupted to consume her.

With a tentative hand she reached out and laid a trembling finger on the blade, which remained quiescent under her touch. Her face transformed into a luminous expression of joy and then her eyes clouded and she frowned.

“If I am not a demon, then what am I?” She asked him curiously.

“I don’t know.” He replied and she looked rather lost. He put a hand under her chin and tilted it up to meet his eyes. “Does it matter? In the end definitions mean nothing. You are what you think you are, Miss Mangle.”

“Brinna.” She murmured and he nodded, releasing her.

“You are whatever you want to be, Brinna; whatever you choose to be.” He spoke from vast experience and she smiled again, if a trifle uncertainly. “Though if you chose to be useful, you could fetch that alembic from under the cupboard.” He pointed it out to her and then began clearing up the table for the next bit of work he had to do.

“Useful? I don’t think I’ve ever tried to be useful before.” Her eyes crinkled up in a very adult sort of amusement and she went to get the alembic for him.

“I think it is far past time that you tried something new then, don’t you?” He was back in teacher mode when she returned and began instructing her in the proper preparation of Wolfsbane Potion. She gave him a funny look when he handed her a Hawthorne spoon and told her to stir the potion while he added ingredients, but she obeyed and was soon equally as absorbed in the process as he was.

He watched her work and it occurred to him to wonder what her future might have been had Fenchurch never come whispering to her.
“Brinna?” He asked another question rising in his mind.

“Mm?” She asked from her stirring.

“Most people who come into contact with demons like Fenchurch are consumed by the evil, eaten up from the inside out.” She looked up at him, those sky-blue eyes intent. A small, very adult and terribly weary smile crossed her lips.

“Why wasn’t I consumed? Why did I become the darkness instead of being destroyed by it?” She asked the question that was in his mind and he nodded.

“Yes, I suppose that was the question.”

“Fenchurch says it’s because I had a seed of evil in me already, but I never believed him.” She shook her head slowly and that look of terrible sadness had returned. “I always supposed it was because for all I had seen, experienced and done, I still loved my father stilstill wanted to be his little girl again.” Tears of clear crystal rolled down her cheeks and Severus gently spelled the spoon to stir on its own before he took the demon child in his arms and soothed away her grief.

He thought of his own parents and knew in his heart that he would have fallen prey to the darkness because he hated them still. It was not a comforting thought.

He dropped a kiss on Kathryn’s lips and then headed off into the fading light, the Dark Mark burning urgently on his arm. They were getting close to the end of everything; he could feel it in the leaden depths of his soul. Kathryn was growing pale and nervous, though she thought that she hid it well. Orion had been surprisingly fussy over the last week and the castle had been filled with jumpy, on-edge students.

It was like a storm building on the horizon, the crackle of energy running along your skin as the tension of it built. Potter was suffering most of all. He was quiet in class, but growing rather strangely composed, as though he were so long in waiting that now that it was nearly here, he was almost relieved. He behaved as one already dead and gone and that was more alarming then all the rest.

The Forbidden Forest was dark and cool as he stepped into its shadow and the short trek to his apparition point was actually pleasant. Flowers bloomed pale and luminous in the indigo twilight, nestled at the base of the tall trees and he dreamed of walking here with Kathryn and Orion, free from fear or worry.

The sharp pain of the Mark recalled him to his task and he pulled his mask and cloak on, covering himself with their deception and the remembered violence permeating the folds and materials. Plunging his mind into icy indifference, he popped out of existence in one place and found himself somewhere else.

Tonight it was an old inn with wooden half-timbers and a cheery fire crackling in the hearth. It was meant to be cozy and comforting, to lull the mind and dull alertness. Severus shifted uneasily, disliking the chintzes and warm glowing woods of the e, ne, not for themselves, but for what it indicated of Voldemort’s state of mind. When the Dark Lord was feeling cheerful, it was always a bad sign.

“Ah, Severus, dear boy.” Voldemort greeted him with an avuncular smile and Severus could feel his face freezing behind the mask. Worse and worse, he thought to himself, hiding his true feelings under a mental running patter of loyalty and anticipation.

“My Master.” He replied and dropped to his knees, feigning an awe and humility he was far from feeling. “How may I serve you?” Had there really been a time when he had willingly followed this madman?

“The time is near, Severus. My full strength is returning to me and my allies assure me that I am now stronger than that fool, Dumbledore.” Fenchurch hovered nearby with Miss Mangle standing near to him, with a look of gleeful evil on her porcelain doll’s face.

“Tis eis excellent news, my master.” Severus put enthusiasm and anticipation into his voice and filled his mind with the image of Dumbledore lying broken and frail at Voldemort’s feet. He buried his dread and concern deep down and sealed the door behind it.

Fenchurch moved away towards the back of the inn, Brinna trailing him. There was a sluggish shifting of limbar tar the fireplace and Severus assumed that the night’s ‘entertainment’ was being kept there.

“Yes, yes, I have waited so very long to have the power to crush the last resistance to our new and glorious future. Finally to have that future unfolding before me is almost intoxicating.” Voldemort paused, eyes unfocused as he stared off into a potentiality only he could see. “Still, now is the time for the utmost caution, Severus.” A quick change of mood and Voldemort’s focus was once more in the here and now.

“Absolutely Master, now is not the time for carelessness.” Severus agreed, nodding and ardent. It always amazed him how good he was at this strange game. He noted Brinna gazing idly out of a window while Fenchurch bent over the bundle of clothing on the floor. The shadowy figure twitched and Fenchurch chuckled.

“Precisely, Severus.” Voldemort agreed enthusiastically. “I am so glad that at least one of my Death Eaters understands how important this moment is.” A glare cast over his shoulder towards where Lucius stood, black robes falling in perfect pleats to the ground, mask held carelessly in one hand. His eyes were hard blue stones that told Severus that Lucius was in Voldemort’s black books.

“I am merely concerned that your ‘allies’ are in this for their own good and not yours.” Lucius’ once well-modulated voice now held a deep bitterness that startled Severus. Had his madness really claimed him that he would speak so to the Dark Lord? His own startlement must have been apparent because Lucius sneered at him and Voldemort nodded sagely at his reaction.

“You see, even Severus is shocked by your doubt in me.” Voldemort commented, with a misinterpretation that Severus gladly embraced.

“In truth Master, it is obvious that your allies have their own agenda, but I cannot believe you have not taken that into account.” Severus kept his voice earnest as he spoke, gently luring his old master towards the sharp precipice of overconfidence. He did not dare risk a look in the direction of Fenchurch and Brinna; he doubted that he could have kept from betraying some thought or emotion if he did. Fenchurch was still occupied with tormenting whatever poor Muggle the Death Eaters had chosen for the night’s fun.

“Of course I have, Severus.” That avuncular tone was back and Voldemort was kindly and beaming again. Lucius frowned at Severus and he cocked his head at his old friend in return, wondering what he was up to.

“What plans do you think our Master could have made?” Lucius asked and suddenly Severus realized his danger. In his madness Lucius was becoming suspicious of everyone and it was now Severus’ task to navigate between two shoals. He would have to balance his answers between Lucius’ paranoia and Voldemort’s.

“I am not a fraction of the wizard that our Master is, so I would not presume to guess what actions he has taken.” Severus bowed a head at Voldemort who nodded, pleased by the praise. A thought occurred to Severus then, that he could play one card against another here. “I would guess that he has seen to it that his allies could be disposed of should they become… untrustworthy.” Severus dropped his voice, making sure that the two demons could not overhear. Lucius gave him a thoughtful look now, the suspicion fading from his eyes.

“Indeed.” Lucius’ eyes drifted past Fenchurch and Brinna with a predatory look that made Severusher her nervous. He wouldn’t mind if Fenchurch were disposed of, but Brinna was another matter.

“I hear that there are poisons fatal even to their kind.” Voldemort murmured and Severus nodded.

“Holy Wrath.” Severus whispered, hardly even breathing the name. The other two gave him a satisfied look and Severus nodded, understanding his orders. “How soon?” He fished.

“Before the week is out.” Voldemort replied in a more normal tone. “I move on Dumbledore and Potter in two weeks, then it begins.” Severus bowed his head and knelt to kiss Voldemort’s hem.

Two weeks. He prayed there would be enough time to do all he had to do.

“My Master, it shall be done,” he assured the redd mod monster that sat crouched in his armchair like a loathsome reptile.

“But now, Lucius has brought us a special present.” Voldemort cackled and Severus felt a welling of dread in his heart. Gesturing to the bundle of rags before the fireplace, the bloody orbs narrowed in glee and their Dark Lord rose to observe Fenchurch at his work.

Wishing that he was anywhere but there, Severus followed Voldemort. Brinna glanced at him and there was something in her eyes that made him stiffen his spine. Her brief look of compassion warned him that he would not like whatever was going to happen next.

“My dearest, greet Severus properly.” Lucius murmured and the bundle shifted, revealing the ravaged face of the once beautiful Narcissa Malfoy. Severus held back a gasp by sheer force of will.

“Hello, Severus.” The raspy voice was blank and empty and the eyes, a weary faded blue were completely devoid of sanity. The blond hair hung in unwashed matted clumps around her head and her face was one large bruise. Severus dropped down beside her and took her hand in his with a feeling of exhaustion. He was so tired of the endless horrors that paraded through his life.

“Oh Narcissa,” he sighed out. “Couldn’t you have just obeyed?” There was compassion in his voice, but also a weary sort of irritation. How stupid could someone be, after all?

“My wife felt that her figure and looks were more important than obedience to our Lord and Master.” Lucius was gazing at his prostrate wife with a detached expression that cut at Severus. He was cast back through time to a wedding many years back, to a smiling and triumphant pair, both getting what they wanted and yet also very much in love. What had happened to that warmth and caring? Had it been eaten by their mutual ambition? Was it merely that two spoiled greedy children couldn’t hold onto something as selfless as love for more than a few moments in time?

What on Earth would he tell Draco?

“Severus.” Narcissa’s voice wafted up to him and he looked down to see that she had curled her fingers around his with a childlike grasp. “You always thought me pretty, didn’t you?”

“Everyone does,” he answered truthfully and gently extracted his fingers from her grasp. “Why couldn’t you just do as you were told?” He asked again, shaking his head. Severus rose and stepped back from the broken doll that had once been the elegant and sparkling Narcissa.
“A question I have often asked myself.” Voldemort was watching him with a sharp gaze and Severus knew that his one-time master could see his pity for Narcissa as a weakness.

“It was such a simple request.” Severus put bafflement and regret into his voice and shook his head again.

“Indeed. I thought it not at all unreasonable.” Voldemort agreed and the avuncular tone was back. Severus knew that his danger was not past, but that suspicion had been allayed for the moment.

“A wife should be glad to do this for a husband.” Lucius’ tone was still detached and unemotional and Severus wondered just how deep the breakage went. Whatever had happened to him in Azkaban must have been terrible, for Lucius was not the man that Severus had once liked and respected.

“Lucius hates me.” Narcissa’s blunt statement was delivered in a singsong voice with a silly smile. “Marcus was better in bed anyway.” The laughing spite in that voice finally moved Lucius to an emotion. He kicked her savagely, his face contorted in rage. She contracted around his booted foot, laughing through her pain and Severus winced behind his mask.

“Stupid cow.” Lucius’ anger had vanished, his emotions turned off again as though they had never been there at all. His voice was dead again and Severus knew that the next two weeks could be the hardest test of his acting abilities yet. No one in Voldemort’s camp had been particularly sane to begin with and now they were all dangerous lunatics who had the run of the asylum.

“She is all yours, Fenchurch.” Voldemort waved the demon forward and it required every ounce of willpower Severus had not to step between the doomed woman and her fate. Whatever he had thought of her, she didn’t deserve this. She had been selfish andty, ty, playing at being bad rather than really being evil.

“No, please. I’ll be good. I promise.” Narcissa eyed the demon with real terror and her small whimpering voice tugged at Severus’ heart.
Fenchurch smiled and stepped forward. He stooped down and lifted the trembling Narcissa in his arms as though she were weightless. There was a strange heat shimmer and the pair were gone.

He wondered if he would ever see her again and if he did, if she would be at all human.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Lucius smiled and wandered off to get himself something to drink.

“I am interested to see what Fenchurch will make of her.” Voldemort commented with the quiet interest of an artist contemplating a new piece of canvas.

Severus was dreading the unveiling.

Many hours later he lay in bed, wrapped around Kathryn, wondering if he would be sane when this was all done. Perhaps he was mad already and just hadn’t noticed. He stayed awake long into the night scaring himself with thoughts of the future d.
d.

A/N - I hope it was worth the wait.