Disclaimer: Everything here is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. I'm just having fun with the characters, particularly Snape.

With much thanks to Jean for helping me to make sense out of this chapter in the first place, and to Thirteen Ravens for input on stronger chapter endings.

The Tortured Soul

by 'purpleygirl'

… my grief lies all within;

And these external manners of laments

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief

That swells with silence in the tortured soul.

– William Shakespeare

The Tragedy of King Richard the Second (IV, i)

Chapter One

Fifteen minutes into dinner, Snape was regretting not going straight back to his office. He could be setting tomorrow's homework. He could be picking apart today's deplorable efforts to describe 100 Uses for Newts' Eyes. But instead here he was, surrounded by moronic babbling with a full plate in front of him and a blinding headache coming on.

A flash caught his eye. At the Gryffindor table, Potter's head had turned, his glasses shining. He was looking more and more like his father as the years went by. And becoming just as arrogant and complacent as he had been.

Snape had thought the boy was the only thing left of James Potter. But he had been wrong. There had been – there was – something else. And it was even worse than the boy. And Snape was carrying it. He had been carrying it all this time.

Pomona Sprout was waffling beside him about poisons. '...when he saw it wasn't working, he used the goat's stone. I think it's marvellous.'

'It does not cure everything,' he ground out.

'Well, no—'

'Some poisons run too deep for extraction.'

'Well, yes...' She started rambling again.

He went over Dumbledore's words from the previous hour. There had to be something in them he had missed, or misunderstood. He had to have been mistaken. But it was all too clear he wasn't, and Dumbledore had shown him the results of his covert test. He ought to have known better than to have let him take the signature of his magical core last month. For the school records, Dumbledore had said. He had assumed the Headmaster was protecting the school against the effects of Polyjuice or glamours, after the fake Moody last year. But he should have known Dumbledore had something else up his sleeve. Something far from straightforward.

He should have known when he had answered Dumbledore's request to see him in his office after today's classes and he had found him tense and distant, fingering a standard letter informing Summerby's parents of a minor injury incurred during Quidditch.

If Dumbledore had not wanted to tell him, then he shouldn't have. He shouldn't have pressed the burden of this knowledge upon him, when he could have continued as normal without it. Why, then, had Dumbledore insisted?

The truth, he had said. The truth was important. It would be discovered eventually, he had said, perhaps in worse circumstances. 'They,' Dumbledore had told him, '– the few others who know – said it would be better if you were not told of this. It changes nothing, you understand. I, however, believe I know you better than any of them.'

When he had said it would be a shock, Snape had thought himself prepared – he had successfully negotiated enough difficulties, of both great and little concern, over the course of his life. But he had thought wrong.

Snape had almost forgotten that the Death Eater captured by the Ministry a few months ago had been the same one who had accompanied him with the Dark Lord to Godric's Hollow. Or perhaps he hadn't wanted to remember.

But this Death Eater did. And he had been talking.

'He talked of Voldemort's loss of a loyal servant years ago. But he was not prepared to let this servant go so easily.'

Snape had listened with some disinterest to Dumbledore between his frequent pauses.

'His death occurred in Voldemort's presence, and so he carried out a powerful spell to make sure he did not lose him forever.'

This had roused Snape's interest. But it had belied what was to come.

'Voldemort must have planned for such an eventuality, because he would have had little time before his Death Eater went beyond his reach forever. The man's mind was dying, his life force – the soul – gone. That is when Lord Voldemort used his spell, before the mind was dead, because it was essential that his servant remained his servant. He would have been useless to him otherwise.'

There was another flash across the Great Hall. Potter was getting up, Miss Granger and Weasley following him like lost puppies.

'Because the Killing Curse had been used, the soul had been instantly expelled. Voldemort knew that restoration of the body would leave it alive but soulless, resembling a victim of the Dementor's Kiss. Quite worthless to Voldemort. But this is what makes his spell unique. With it he was able to quickly take the soul of a nearby living person – the very person who had killed his Death Eater – and transfer it to the deceased, thus restoring him fully, and leaving him utterly unaware of what had just transpired.'

It was the Darkest magic. Difficult to employ, and fraught with risks. The Dark Lord would have enjoyed using it.

'Have there been any adverse effects?' he had asked Dumbledore, intrigued to know which Death Eater the Dark Lord had thought worthy of the dangers.

'None at all.' Dumbledore had paused, and Snape should have known then, when the blue eyes were piercing into him. 'But the soul retains only echoes of the person. And they are unreachable, I think. It is the mind that makes the person. The soul is simply the life force through which the mind is able to work. As you know, the soul serves a greater purpose to the wizarding world as it is the seat of the magical core.'

'So who was it? When did it occur?'

Dumbledore's pause had been slight but significant. 'It occurred at Godric's Hollow.'

Snape had stared while he fought the compulsion to search his memories. 'You mean he – Flintoff – he has another's soul in place of his own?' Snape had never really known the man now telling all to the Ministry – as an overzealous and careless Death Eater, for the last decade Flintoff had been circling Europe away from the Ministry's clutches, and now he had a long stay ahead of him in Azkaban. But the greatest shock came from Dumbledore's reply. Because he and Flintoff had been the only Death Eaters present with the Dark Lord that night.

'No, Severus.'

Potter was edging through a small gathering at the door. The short, scruffy black hair soon disappeared. The chattering in the Great Hall was rising to unbearable levels. Empty plates had been pushed aside and goblets were being refilled while the sound of childish laughter echoed around the tables.

'But I remember that night. Don't you think I remember it?'

'Do you? All of it? Have you seen – have you used a Pensieve?'

'I said I remember it. I have no wish to relive it.'

'But, I think, your memories are not as seamless as you believe.'

'Very well. As you seem to insist on this. Even supposing... Whose soul did the Dark Lord take?'

'Of course,' Professor Sprout said next to Snape, 'I always favour Glumbumble treacle to counteract the effects of Alihotsy leaves, but some people—'

Snape rose, leaving her gaping up at him, a mouthful of food on display. He marched along the staff table.

'I saw him dead on the floor. I watched James Potter die.'

'Did you, Severus? Is that what you remember?'

He passed behind Dumbledore, now engrossed in animated conversation with Minerva. Yes, everything was simply as normal.

'Perhaps my Pensieve—'

'No.' Snape had pushed back the chair as he got to his feet, unhearing its deafening scrape and Fawkes's squawked protest. 'You have shown me the results of your little test.'

'Severus, you understand—'

'If that is all you wished to tell me, Dumbledore?'

He had noticed that Dumbledore's tension had gone. He had seemed quite serene as his gaze searched him. 'He couldn't lose you, Severus,' he had said quietly. 'Not then.'

Snape pushed his way through the giggling Ravenclaws blocking the Great Hall door.

Dumbledore had insisted it meant nothing. Snape had been living for fourteen years with another's soul without his knowledge. His brain and memories told him he was still himself, and there was no reason for that to change.

But of course it meant everything. Because only yesterday Snape had believed that there was nothing left of James Potter but the boy. And he had been wrong. The soul he'd unknowingly had all these years instead of his own just happened to be James Potter's.

-x-

At first, Harry thought the uncharacteristic silence was a distinct improvement on the usual Potions lessons. And the rest of the class, with the obvious exception of the Slytherins, also seemed to think so. He for one could certainly live with Snape's apparent lack of interest in his typical zest for criticism.

Twenty minutes in, however, as Harry watched the rapidly thickening goo consume his table, he discovered how short-lived it had been.

'What is this, Potter?' Snape bellowed. 'How do you imagine this resembles the Befuddlement Draught? How can anyone manage to obtain this mess from the directions on the board?' Ignoring Harry's attempts to get a word in, Snape bent down until his hooked nose was inches from his flushed face. His black eyes were blazing in fury as though Harry had just blown up the entire classroom. 'But of course you are a Potter, and it does require more than an ounce of intelligence.' He straightened and turned without even savouring Harry's reaction. 'Ten points from Gryffindor. And you can clean it up without your wand.'

'But it was—' Harry began, turning his angry gaze on Malfoy. He could have sworn he'd seen Malfoy flick his wand in his direction just before his potion had started to bubble over.

'Another ten points,' Snape cut in. 'And you will continue to have points deducted until you learn to stop taking after your father by persistently acting the arrogant, spoilt, useless, trouble-making brat.' He spat out each insult with venom. A hush fell over the room. 'I do not want to hear another word from you, Potter,' Snape said in a low, threatening voice. He turned to his desk.

'Git,' muttered Ron.

Snape spun around. 'What was that, Weasley?'

Ron seemed dumbfounded that Snape could have heard his carefully whispered gibe. 'I ... didn't—'

'OUT!'

Ron was rooted to the spot in fear, and Harry could only watch in apprehension as Snape strode over and wrenched Ron away. 'Thirty points from Gryffindor for insolence! You and your poor excuses for friends clearly have no place in my class.' He shoved a protesting Ron out the door and slammed it shut on him.

As Snape turned back to the class, everyone fell at once to chopping and stirring in trepid silence. Even Malfoy was mixing his potion with an unusual level of attentiveness as Snape resumed his seat. Hermione exchanged a look of bewilderment and anxiety with Harry across Ron's empty chair.

With a stifled sigh, Harry set to cleaning his desk, a task that took up the remainder of the lesson because of the stickiness of the mess; to relieve the monotony, he sent the occasional glare in Malfoy's direction while he scrubbed.

Afterwards, Harry and Hermione found a bemused-looking Ron in the corridor. 'What the hell was all that about?' he asked them. 'That greasy git got out of the wrong side of his bed this morning – and there was me thinking he didn't have a right side to get out of.' He shook his head. 'Did you hear the stuff he said?'

'Course I did,' said Harry. 'But he said a lot worse after you'd left.'

Hermione nodded. 'It was awful. Gryffindor lost so many points just because Snape decided Harry was too slow getting off all the mess Malfoy made. I don't think we've lost that many points so soon in the year before.'

'Never mind the points,' said Harry. 'What about all the horrible things he kept saying in front of the entire class about me and my dad?'

She looked mortified. 'Well, of course that was awful. I meant that too. But … well, he's never taken so many points from Gryffindor before in just one class. And never been so mean to Harry, either,' she hastily appended.

'Or me,' declared Ron. 'I bet I get a beauty there tomorrow,' he said, rubbing his arm where Snape had grabbed him.

-x-

Snape turned over and kicked the bedcovers down. He knew what was coming. Even Occluding his mind would not stop it. But he hadn't had one decent night's sleep since Dumbledore's foolish disclosure.

After giving up on trying to pummel his pillow into submission, he finally felt himself drift off. And then his mind turned again, inexorably, to the object of his recent nightmares.

His gaze fell on the body of James Potter in front of him in the sparse hallway.

Potter's glasses lay broken on the floor, his naked eyes staring up at the low-beamed ceiling. Smiling grimly at his now fallen tormentor, Snape heard the Dark Lord give the order to search the rest of the house for the boy he had come for. Snape stepped over Potter's body to reach the staircase.

He had barely placed one foot on the narrow wooden steps before he felt the hand grab him from behind.

It dragged him off the stairs, and he was twisted around. 'THIEF!' Potter shrieked in his face, hazel eyes wild without his glasses, hands moving to grasp Snape's neck. 'Give me back my soul! Thief! THIEF!' His fingers tightened around his throat; he shook him sharply back and forth as though trying to loosen and release from him what was rightfully his.

It was then, as Snape struggled to find his breath and stem his rising horror, that he noticed that the Dark Lord had returned from his search to watch. His laughter was echoing around the small house and growing in volume and depravity as Potter's anger and grip intensified, the constant shaking finally forcing Snape to stumble back against the hard stairs.

He woke with a jolt. Sitting up in bed, his hands moved reflexively toward his neck, his breathing laboured. But while the horror gradually subsided as the threatening dark shapes surrounding him took on the more familiar forms of his bedposts, wardrobe and dresser, the tightness around his neck lingered.

He could not take one more year with the boy who had his father's face.

-x-

Harry wandered down the corridor. Divination had finished early after Trelawney ('due to unforeseen circumstances,' Ron had joked) had failed to turn up and the much more level-headed Madam Hooch had tried valiantly, but ultimately in vain, to fill in for the eccentric witch.

He turned a corner. To the left led to the Headmaster's office; as he passed he glanced up. Underneath a torch stood Dumbledore, with Remus Lupin. The two were deep in conversation.

Harry deliberated. He had some unexpected free time on his hands before Transfiguration class, and he hadn't seen Lupin for ages. He watched them talking and edged back. Maybe it was something to do with the Order?

'...and so perhaps you could talk to him, Remus,' he heard Dumbledore say. 'He's not thinking rationally. Tom would be very angry with him if he did indeed leave the school now. I seriously doubt he could justify it to him...'

Were they talking about Snape? A rumour had started going around the school that he was planning on leaving – and for good – but Harry had thought it was just a few desperate people fanning the flames of wild hope. Everyone wanted to believe it, but no one did. Snape seemed to be as much a part of Hogwarts as Peeves and his annoying pranks. It was just something you had to grit your teeth over and put up with.

But wouldn't he have something fantastic to report in Transfiguration, if it were true?

His curiosity finally got the better of him.

'I'll speak to him after dinner tonight,' Lupin replied in a weary voice.

'Good. Thank you, Remus. I do realise that all this must be hard for you to take in also. Ah, Harry,' said Dumbledore on noticing his approach. 'Good afternoon. Remus is kindly visiting us as he passes through.'

'Professor,' greeted Harry; he grinned at Lupin, and Harry noticed that despite his returned smile Lupin seemed tired and anxious.

'How are you feeling today?' asked Dumbledore.

Harry knew he was referring specifically to his scar, which had been hurting more and with greater frequency recently. Dumbledore had voiced his concern about the link he had with Voldemort, but had been unable to offer any solution to its regular painful twinges. 'Not too bad, sir.'

Although Dumbledore gave him a smile of reassurance, Harry couldn't help but notice the hint of concern in the blue eyes that twinkled as his face creased around them.

'Well, I will leave you two to it,' said Dumbledore. 'Harry, Remus.' He nodded to Lupin and wandered off down the corridor.

Harry turned to Lupin. 'How long are you here for, Professor?'

'Oh, not long. I'm just passing through,' he said, repeating Dumbledore's explanation. 'And anyway, Harry, call me Remus, seeing as I'm not your professor any more.'

Lupin's smile was warm, and Harry couldn't help feeling sorry for the man who'd lost the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship just over a year ago because of Snape. He felt a sudden need for it to be true that Snape was leaving Hogwarts. He wondered whether to ask Lupin if he knew anything about the rumour, but while he considered how to put it, Lupin asked, 'So, how are things?'

'Oh. You know. The usual. Keeping away from trouble – so far.' Lupin gave him a knowing smile, and Harry added, 'Potions classes are really bad recently, though.' He watched Lupin to see if this might provoke good news. But to Harry's dismay, the weary expression that Lupin had worn earlier returned, making the already thin man appear to have aged several years in the space of a few seconds.

'In what way?'

'Sna— Professor Snape is ... well, he's even nastier to me lately, if you can believe it. He just never seems to stop going on ... especially about my dad. I mean, I could just about take it before. He hated my dad when they were kids, fine. But now ... I don't know ... it's just a lot worse. And Draco Malfoy's having a field day. He really looks forward to Potions now – I can see it on his face when I get to class.' His earlier intention of trying to get Lupin to confirm or deny the rumour surrounding Snape forgotten, Harry's mind instead went over again all the horrid stuff Snape was now doling out without fail in each class while Malfoy grinned across the room. The funny thing was, Malfoy seemed to be the only one enjoying it. Snape simply became more and more crazed as he went on one of his tirades.

'Oh, no.' Lupin sighed. 'I'll tell you what. I'll have a word with Professor Snape, but I won't mention names or specifics. All right?' He put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry nodded glumly; he knew it probably wouldn't change anything anyway, given that Snape and Lupin didn't get along all that well – even before Snape had succeeded in getting him sacked from Hogwarts.

Then he remembered what he'd wanted to ask about Snape earlier, and he wondered why, in that case, Dumbledore had invited Lupin of all people to try to talk Snape out of leaving the school.

'Keep out of trouble, then?' Lupin was smiling again, though it didn't reach his eyes.

On the verge of mentioning the rumour, Harry instead decided against it for now; Lupin looked like he needed a rest. Harry nodded and returned his smile as Lupin left. He looked like he'd had a really long journey, Harry thought as he watched Lupin trudge away.

Later, in an empty Gryffindor common room, he told Hermione what he'd overheard.

'It does sound like there might be something to the gossip there's been about Snape,' she said. 'But why get Lupin here to talk to him?'

'That's what I can't understand either.'

Hermione still had a thoughtful expression when Ron came through the door. 'Harry's just told me Lupin's here,' she told him.

'Oh, yeah? What for?' he asked Harry as he plonked himself down in a chair.

'I don't know,' Harry admitted. 'He said something about being in the area, but I don't think that's all there is to it, especially after what I heard Dumbledore say to him.'

Before he could answer Ron's questioning look, Hermione cut in. 'Dumbledore told Lupin that Snape wants to leave Hogwarts.'

Ron sat up. 'So it's true?' he asked, wide-eyed and gaping at the two of them. 'The greasy git's really off?'

'Well, I think it was Snape they were talking about,' Harry said. 'I mean, Dumbledore did mention Voldemort, and Snape's the only one people are saying—'

'WOW! We should throw a party!'

'Ron, you can't tell anyone about this.' Harry gave him an insistent look. 'I overheard it, remember? We're not supposed to know Snape's leaving. And besides, Lupin's here to talk him out of it.'

Ron looked like he'd just swallowed a snitch. 'To talk him out of it? Why the hell would Lupin do that to us?' He fidgeted on the edge of his chair. 'We've got to do something,' he said in a rush. 'He's gonna ruin everything.'

'Honestly, calm down,' said Hermione. 'Harry's right – we can't go around confirming this rumour now Lupin's here. We'll just have to wait and see what happens.'

Ron sat back and stared at the floor, too stunned to speak after having his hopes raised only for them to be cruelly dashed in such a short space of time.

'It doesn't make any sense,' said Harry, frowning in thought. 'Why does Snape want to leave – why now? And why get Lupin here to talk to him about it?' He shook his head. 'There's something going on. Maybe that's why he's been blowing up recently.'

'Who cares why?' Ron still looked glum. 'If Lupin wasn't your friend, I'd have him Stupefied until Snape had packed his things, got on his broomstick and gone.'

'Ron!' scolded Hermione. 'If Professor Dumbledore's worried enough about this to bring someone else in ... and, well, Professor Snape works for the Order as well, doesn't he?'

'You think he's planning on becoming a Death Eater?' Ron recoiled in mock horror with his fingers at his mouth.

'Really, Ron,' said Hermione, 'I don't know why you're always so suspicious of Professor Snape.' She sighed in exasperation. 'But it is a bit strange,' she said. 'Lupin's a member of the Order and so is Snape...'

'...and Snape wants to leave Hogwarts, where he's meant to be pretending to spy for Voldemort...' finished Harry, meeting her gaze. 'I don't like it. He's up to something.'

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but he ignored her. Snape was always up to something.

'You could just ask Lupin,' Ron said with a shrug.

Harry shook his head. 'He won't tell me. Neither will Dumbledore. Not everything, anyway.' They'd already made it clear he wasn't wanted in the Order, so there was only one way to know what was really going on. 'No, I'll just have to find out for myself. Lupin said he'd see Snape tonight after dinner. If I wait in the dungeons under my Invisibility Cloak, maybe I can find something out.'

Hermione tutted. 'Well, if you're going to do it, you'd better be careful. If this is about the Order, don't get caught – or you might end up having a Memory Charm put on you.'

'Oh, Merlin.' Ron's eyes were wide, this time with genuine horror. 'By Snape!'