1995-06-22: All Part Of The Plan


Whitmore_icon.gif Snape_icon.gif

NPC Death Eaters puppeted by Madeline_icon.gif

Scene Title All Part of the Plan
Synopsis Whitmore experiments on Muggles
Location The Riddle House
Date Jun 22, 1995
Watch For Pecking order among Death Eaters
Logger Whitmore


It's summer, about as muggy as it gets for this part of England. The Riddle House rather smells right now. More so than usual. There are a few people in it here and there, keeping watch over a small group of the Muggles from the village they raided. The others are … somewhere else, apparently. Whitmore strides in, and glances around to see who's here. He wears one of his more common 'Shadow' faces, and his expression is a feral grin.

"Well…" A tenor voice tonight, one to match the persona. "Good afternoon…" His tone is a little amused.

The shadowy corners of the Riddle House have proved exceptionally useful in recent times as they've been just where Severus Snape has decided to dwell. What he has been doing is anyone's guess. A thin sliver of his pale face is all that is visible in the gloom, his one, unconcealed eye staring solidly at his … compatriot.

Two low-ranking Death Eaters have been left by the door to stand guard: a young woman who must be descended from a hag by the look of her, and an older man who is lean and straggly like an alley cat that's too many fights. They both look up as Whitmore strides in, the woman attempting to match his grin, while the man just looks on uncertainly. They exchange a glance between themselves and then take a step forward towards the prisoners.

If Whitmore were in his real persona, this might be the point where he'd shuck traveling gloves. This Shadow doesn't wear them, though, and so, he contents himself with pulling out his wand and tapping it on his free hand. He turns toward the guards. "Have they been … more compliant? Or less so?" He walks toward the room where the prisoners are, starting to open the door. However, he stops and turns, seeming to feel the gaze on his back. Really, he's just rather paranoid. He turns toward the corner where Snape stands, and quirks a brow in his direction. "Care to observe the experiments?"

"I would not require your permission if I did," Snape answers, perhaps a fraction quicker and sharper than is usual for him, "I will see that our time is not wasted with trivialities."

A flash of pale, near-luminescent white is momentarily glimpsed as his hand does something within some hidden pocket. He turns his eyes back to Whitmore, his disregard for the lesser guards complete - he has no interest in them.

"They shouted for awhile, but they've been quiet now," the woman replies to the question, seeming the keener and quicker of the two. As Snape is brought into the conversation, the man eyes both of the other gents warily, not unlike the bedraggled alley cat he appears. The woman waits a moment for him to speak, before growing impatient and going on again herself, "Will you be requiring assistance?" she volunteers them both.

"Ahhh. Not so much permission as invitation, Professor." Whitmore chuckles, though the sound is much less pleasant in the borrowed voice. He frowns slightly, turning toward the guards. "I am not quite certain. Perhaps." He reaches into a pocket of his robes, tapping a small roll of parchment with his wand to expand it to normal size. "Hmmm. That's rather unfortunate. However, it does give me a bit of direction as to which of these to try first…" He scans the list in his hand. "Bring out the young man first, if you please." Since she's offered assistance, he'll take it. Even if it means just fetch-and-carry work.

"Perhaps these should be useful," Snape ventures, gesturing a pale hand at the two lesser Death Eaters, "Were we to need someone to conjure flowers from their ears or a font of water."

The former Potions Master quite clearly shows his opinion of them and his position on allowing them to assist. He flexes his fingers slowly, stepping out of the shadows as he does so. The darkness clings to him all the same, as though the shadows about the room may very well be part of his outfit.

Even the lesser Death Eaters have a pecking order of their own, and as Whitmore makes his request known, the woman gives the man a sharp look and he steps up to fulfill it, while she stands by to ingratiatingly reply, "Of course. Straight away." Snape's snarky comment just gets a look, and a slight set to the woman's jaw, but she opts for the wiser course of silence - for now. The man yanks the requested prisoner free with about as much roughness as is possible, frog-marching him over towards the other Death Eaters.

Whitmore finds Snape's comment funny, and chuckles again, then watches as the young man is brought forward. "Immobilous." He freezes the Muggle quickly, and pulls a chair to lay the frozen man against. He shakes his head, leaning in to look down at the man. "Well… since you have been so noisy, I do believe that we'll see if this curse does what I think it does." The incantation seems long and unwieldy, and the Latin is atrocious for its grammar, but it seems to work. A pale blue light surrounds the young man's throat, and there's a sickening sound of tearing. "Finite Incantatum." He frees the man from his bonds, and then smiles. "Now. Say something." The man tries, but nothing comes out. "Ahhhh. I was right then. Good." He nods tersely, and looks at his parchment again.

Snape's expression does not betray what he is feeling, although the slight crook of an eyebrow suggests he only hopes one of the guards decides they could do him some damage. But he keeps his silence, watching Whitmore's experiment with the impassive features of one entirely use to far greater depths of degradation and depravity.

As Whitmore performs his experiment, the man actually smirks just a little. It's a quiet and subdued thing, and rather subtle, but there for any who watch minions all that closely. The woman actually makes a bit of a face at the tearing sound, and steps back, worried that there might be some blood or other bits flying about, and not wanting to ruin her robes. Of course, neither show any sympathy for the poor mute.

"Oh, I have a list." And Whitmore continues to cast. The syntax of each would probably make a small Roman child wince, but there seems to be a natural effectiveness to the curses, as well as a progression of pain. The young man would be screaming if Whit hadn't cast the first curse, and indeed looks to be screaming silently. At this point, there is blood and other fluids around. "Would you like to try anything?" The question is directed to Snape. "I can take a few moments' rest…" He chuckles, as though it's clear this hasn't been hard work. "Hmmm." Now he turns to the man, bypassing the woman entirely, since it seems the man is the lower ranked of the two. "I shall need one of the others soon. I do not believe…" There is a slight shrug. He's not gonna last much longer.

"These are your experiments," Snape answers plainly, eyes turning to the silent screamer with no ounce of pity. All the same, he takes a step forward and at last seems entirely detached from the darkness. He regards the test subject with what could be called detached curiosity, wand drawn slowly from his sleeve.

A wave of it and an incantation of his own causes the subject's eyes to bulge before he slumps to one side. Somewhere within, his heart has quite literally wrestled itself free of the veins and muscles holding it in place. A quick death, certainly, and not nearly as showy.

He quirks an eyebrow at the fresh corpse, his words apologetic even if his tone shows none of it, "Hmm. Perhaps I do not know my own strength."

The man has been watching avidly, but wrests his gaze away when the woman nudges him, going back to a more stoic expression as he steps away to start fetching the next test subject. Of course, having seen what's been happening to the first victim, he has a harder time wresting the next away from the group. Meanwhile, the woman continues to observe these experiments. "I'd say that's successful," she compliments the handiwork of both the men.

There's a momentary wildness in Whitmore's eyes, a near-madness that threatens to escape. It just flashes through, however, and he pulls control back in. "You could say that, yes." He comments, with a mild sulk to his tone. "Well. Thank you." He rolls his eyes. "And you." This is directed at the woman. "Take this one and prepare him. You do remember the plan, do you not?" If not, he'll reiterate it to her later. He quickly casts a cleaning charm on the floor, and then steps toward the woman, immobilizing her in much the same manner. He casts the same curse first, and then looks down at his list. "Some of these are quite interesting," he comments, attempting an offhandedness.

No further words from Snape. He simply watches the corpse for a moment before turning his attention to the guards. His wand returns to its place in his sleeve as he himself returns to the shadows to watch.

The woman snaps to attention as she is addressed, quickly reaching out to take the body, trying in vain to keep from getting its messiness all over her robes. Oh well. She'd sooner make a mess of herself than defy a direct order. "Of course," she replies hastily, as to the plan. She begins to struggle off with the body, just as the male Death Eater steps forward with the woman, handing her off and then stepping back to watch again.

Whitmore begins his 'experiments' again. This time, there are spells to blind and something that doesn't seem to be directed at any particular part of the body, but still makes the woman scream silently. "Ohhhh. Nightmare. Right. That author really had no grasp of…" He shakes his head, frustrated at the lack of clarity in some of the incantations, and scowls at the parchment. "What does this one do? I can't tell." He whispers it, and then a small smile crosses his face. "I think I shall save that one for another time. It doesn't suit our purposes today." He mutters to himself, though it's clear he's allowing them to hear a portion of his thought processes. For unknown reasons. Again, the curses increase in severity, and he continues to cast until the woman, too is nearly dead. This time, he turns to the higher ranked of the guards. "Do you have any particular favorite spell that you would wish to cast upon her?" He's done with this one, he thinks.

"Do not waste them," Snape chides his fellow Death Eater, frowning as he looks at the guards, "There are lesser forms of vermin in the garden for them to practice on." He then moves towards the parchment, peering at it, "What is this?"

"Oi," the woman mutters in protest as Snape denies her the chance to play with one of the victims. She certainly seems to have more to say, but the man stays her with a sharp, "Ogden." She goes quiet, but mutters, shaking her head to herself.

"I don't feel it's a waste if they're more prepared for … certain situations. But, as you wish." There are a hundred and fifty muggles all told, and Whit considers them cheap currency. He glances over to Ogden, and frowns, giving her an appraising look before merely walking up to the woman and snapping her neck. "Right." He casts one more curse, then holds out the parchment to show the professor. "It's a list of curses I found in an old book. I've been able to decipher most of their general usage, but I figured I'd test them on this lot." The feral gleam in his eye passes soon. His fingers cover the one he said he'd save for later.

"Muggles don't grow on trees," Snape says flatly, shrugging his shoulders. The argument from the woman scores her only a sharp look.

The female Death Eater looks rather disappointed as the Muggle is killed before Ogden gets a chance to prove herself capable of this small challenge. But the man seems a bit more relieved, returning once more to a complacent expression. Ogden does quail a little under Snape's sharp look, and perhaps trying to make up for it, turns up the obsequious behaviour. "You'll be wanting another one then?" she offers politely.

"No, they sprout in hovels." Whitmore shudders, and nods. "One more, I think should do the trick…" He pulls the list back, glancing down at it. "Yes. Just the one." He gives a small smile, not a very comforting one indeed, and rolls his shoulders. "I haven't done this much practical work since the last good raid." He gives Snape a significant look.

Snape does not appear to have much to say in regards to that, simply letting it all happen in silence. He does not seem to be inclined to do much torturing but nor is he trying to save everyone.

Ogden relaxes a bit as the attention moves off of her. As Whitmore gears up to perform his final experiment, the man's interest piques and his bland expression takes on just a little more keenness. Up until Ogden nudges him, sending him off to go fetch the final victim, which he returns with promptly after the delay.

After silencing the last victim, a young teenaged girl, Whitmore looks down his list again, and repeats the process, starting with lighter curses and moving on. This 'subject' becomes covered in green, oddly shaped pustules, and her face changes shape rather painfully. That curse gets an uplifted eyebrow and a detached "hmmmm." He frowns, and leans back, surveying the girl. "Ogden. Since I deprived you of the pleasure last time, you may finish this one off." It's an appeasement to the lesser beings, but he has finished his list, and his interest has begun to wane.

"Wasteful," Snape announces at Whitmore's decision, but he makes no move to counteract it. He gives a look to Ogden for the briefest of moments, suggesting that this be done quickly and efficiently lest he step in.

"Thank you," Ogden speaks up, stepping forward quickly. Her companion doesn't seem too certain about this turn of events, but otherwise just hangs back to continue watching. Ogden gives it a quick bit of thought, hasty as she can sense Snape's impatience. With a wave of her wand, she enchants the young woman's hair, causing it to wrap itself several times around the girl's neck, growing ever tighter. It is perhaps not the most efficient manner, but at least she's trying to think outside the box.

Whitmore watches the hair wrap around the girl's neck, and tilts his head, listening to her breathing. "Interesting choice." It surely wasn't the simple Avada Kedavra he was expecting. "We need the bodies for the rest of the plan." His voice turns brittle as he glances toward Snape's corner. "I was allowed to experiment on them beforehand." There is a little bit of method among the madness. Not much, though. He pockets his wand after shrinking the list, and the list goes in the other pocket again. "You." He gestures to the male guard. "Put this one with the others. We'll take care of them in due time. And, for Merlin's sake, cast preserving charms on them." His look says that if they don't know how to do that simple task, they should find someone who can do it for them.

"Of course," the man finally speaks, his voice lacking in expression every bit as much as his actual expression is lacking. He takes the body, jerking the poor girl's corpse rather roughly, and starts to head off with her. Ogden hesitates just a moment, perhaps in the hope that she might be included with the 'big kids' here, but then scurries off after him, to help figure out this preserving charm business.

This is a prelude to other things. Stay tuned!

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