Canon: He specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things, was sold out by Karkaroff but was already in custody at the time.
Post:
Mulciber was not an idiot.
Nor was he a fool.
Nor was he so completely out of his skull that he had lost track of
the days, the years, and the time it took him to drag himself out of
his warm bed, into his gray robes and mask, and come over to Hogwarts
to scour amoung bushes.
Mulciber believed in order, so long as that order did not impede on
his priorities of doing what he thought he should be doing.
He knew he had to serve the Dark Lord. So he had come to Hogwarts. He
had scoured, he had attacked a few wild animals, he had eaten a few
leaves, he had been utterly bored.
And now he was here, in Hogwarts, and there were no leaves to eat nor
wild animals to kill.
So now Mulciber was bored.
He surveyed his surroundings through quick, darting eyes, taking in the other Death Eaters and their stances. He looked for weakness. He looked for injury. He looked for entertainment.
Mulciber had mellowed over the years. He had learned that not
everything existed for him to mutilate or murder. He had learned that
control was not everything. He had learned that there was no such
thing as a snipe.
But there was a Snape.
The thought made him laugh and that made him lose his train of
thought.
He saw the others move away from him at that point. Not that he could
blame them really.
Macnair had been the last to enter and Mulciber observed him
carefully. He had been talking to Malfoy. Of them all, he was closest
to Malfoy. Macnair had to have some idea of what was going on.
But Macnair stayed silent. As silent as Crabbe and Goyle.
"Take off your hoods and masks."
Mulciber did not want to obey. Who was Macnair to tell him what to
do? But the mask meant sweat and sweat impeded his sense of smell, so
off went the mask. His hood fell away to let loose a shock of wild
red hair that hung down his shoulders in an unkempt ponytail.
Brushing it, to Mulciber, meant busy work. So long as it was kept
away from his mouth, he did not see much of a point in dealing with
it.
During the times when he had to be respectable, he washed it, combed
it out, and flung it back. No one had ever seen him with his hair
down.
Mulciber wore clothes of the upper classes. He was a well-respected
member of society, after all. And since he had been classified as an
animal and a psychotic, that should give one pause when considering
the society.
This was enough to make him want to laugh again.
Mulciber had been born to fairly normal parents. They were clean,
trim, and proper in all matters. They were civil.
Macnair had once concluded that Mulciber had been dropped on his head
several times when he was a baby and that was why he turned out how
he did.
Mulciber did not like Macnair at times.
Whatever the reason, Mulciber was a few fries short of a Happy Meal,
and he liked being that way. No one interfered with him. No one
taunted him. No one came too close.
Save for his wife.
But that is another story.
He did not go crazy after her death. He had been crazy before, her
death just enraged him. Left to bleed in a bathtub at home while the
Aurors searched the house for anything incriminating.
It had been a pack of unruly Aurors, the judges had ruled. Ones who
side-stepped the rules and took the law into their own hands.
Mulciber did not agree. He may have been insane, but even he had seen
the order sent to his house to burn it down.
Let alone the fact that the Aurors in question had gotten off only by
paying a small fine.
He wondered sometimes, in the back of his mind, if he had been the
one to let her bleed and then burn down his own house. And everything
was just one big hallucinatory dream.
And then he blinked and his world came back into focus again and he
was standing in front of a house and he was pressing his nails into
the chest of one of the Aurors and he was ripping through skin,
tendons, and muscle and bone, and he was wrapping his hand around a
beating organ, now pumping furiously to get the blood flowing to the
wound, and there was lots of screaming.
Screaming that even the Imperius Curse could not eliminate.
Mulciber loved the screaming as much as he loved the Imperius. He
loved being able to see what he could get these people to do. He
loved putting them in odd positions. He loved letting them craft
their own demise.
He loved his victims.
His favorite game was seeing how they could contort their bodies on
their own. The snapping of bones occasionally gave him an erection.
A noise resounded in the room and Mulciber looked over to see Snape.
He sniffed the air and tasted blood. Not that dry. Not that wet. He
had just come back from a shower.
Whose blood?
Another sniff.
Zabini. The little boy who needed someone to play bongos with his
head.
Apparently Snape had already taken care of that. Mulciber took a step
forward, wanting to taste that blood, run it through his fingers, but
he was blocked by the large imposing figures of Crabbe and Goyle.
Well, curse it all. And just when he was getting through them, Snape
left. He had a mind to follow but Macnair shook his head.
"Malfoy will be here soon."
So Mulciber stayed still. Very still. Malfoy. The one whose aura was
tinged with blacks and silvers.
Malfoy knew a lot. Malfoy knew everything.
Malfoy would make a killing on jeopardy and Mulciber would dearly
love feasting on the man's entrails as soon as Malfoy fell. He would
fasten his mouth on the man's heart first. Take a bite out of it and
then offer it to him.
He had the strongest feeling that Malfoy would accept it.
Mulciber waited. He waited for what seemed like forever. And then Malfoy came in and Mulciber's world became more violent and more controlled. He watched with steady eyes as the normally talkative man silently handed Macnair his axe. He eyed the man as Lucius eyed him and the others.
Lucius. Yes, he became Lucius when he walked in the door. He stayed
Malfoy when he wasn't there. Lucius. To the devil he went. The devil
he listened to.
The devil who betrayed his Lord.
Mulciber snickered and was ignored.
He listened attentively as Lucius told them what was going on in
detail. He was explaining and that was enough to give Mulciber pause.
Lucius never explained a damn thing to him. It was always, 'Get rid
of this one, Mulciber, and don't leave stains on the carpet.'
Or 'you're an animal, Mulciber.'
Animal.
He knew that was Lucius' private nickname for him and it had caught
on with the others. But the others knew not to say it in front of
him. They all knew. Except Lucius. Lucius with the biting tongue. The
one serpent that Mulciber alternately wanted to catch between his
teeth and shake and, at the same time, wanted to listen to forever.
He hated Malfoy. Malfoy was a bastard.
But he kept the larders well stocked with bodies and he knew how to
please. Mulciber liked being pleased.
Mulciber liked bodies.
"Dumbledore is around here somewhere. No doubt he, and the others, will soon find us and have a nice little chat as soon as Hogwarts is secure. In the meantime, I want all of you to stay in here."
Mulciber was sure it was Lucius who was talking. He'd know that voice
anywhere. Sometimes he had difficulty knowing who was speaking.
Sometimes he could not tell because the redness would blind him and
there was nothing more awe-inspiring than the redness. He nodded with
the others, knowing on instinct when it was best to agree.
They would have to stay here.
Stay.
No fun.
But Voldemort was out there. Voldemort and his long fangs that could
crush even Lucius.
That could crush even him.
Primal instincts took over and he stayed right where he was, vowing
not to move from his private lair until he had been given the right
to do so.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go seek out Potter."
And then Lucius was gone and Mulciber felt alone. He was surrounded
by Death Eaters but he still felt alone.
That was okay. He enjoyed being alone. He enjoyed being able to study
those around him without letting them in.
He tilted his head back and laughed and laughed.
The world seemed so funny right then.
All I want is some special care
I'm on the run from some institution
All I want's a little consolation
And I can tell by your face
I'm a total disgrace
Let me inside your place
Move over for a Damage Case
Hey babe wait a minute stop
Don't run away don't call the cops
I ain't looking to victimise you
All I want to do is tantalise you
And I can tell by your state
I'm all over the place
I can tell by your face
Got no time for a Damage Case
Hey babe don't turn away
I'm here tomorrow I'm gone today
I don't even care what you think your game is
I don't care even what your name is
And I can tell by your face
You're all over the place
Let me inside your place
Move over for a Damage Case