O my soul

O my soul

by

Logospilgrim

Rated PG-13.

Disclaimer: I'm only playing with J.K. Rowling's wonderful toys. I promise I won't break them, or leave them out in the rain.

O Life, how can you die?
Or abide in a grave?
For You destroy the Kingdom of death,
O Lord,
and you raise up the dead of Hades' realm.
Wherewithal shall a young man correct his way?
By keeping Your words.

~ John Taverner, Lamentations and Praises

It was finally going to happen. He was going to die. He didn't know whom to thank, but he said, "Thank you... thank you."

Severus said it anyway, his breath turned to smoke by the cold, like a spirit in a glimpse of moonlight.

He looked up at the night sky and would have smiled if he'd been able to, but his muscles were no longer responsive. It wasn't so terrible, dying. It didn't even hurt. Of course, the snow and ice had numbed his body to the extent that his Dark Mark was almost silent. It throbbed a little, but was nothing, now. Just a fading cry.

Would Dumbledore know the end had come? He always seemed to know everything... Would he sense it, somehow?

Would he grieve?

"I'm sorry, Albus. I couldn't..."

Tears, ice cold against his skin, freezing by the time they reached his temples. It was better this way. Death was the only redeemer.

He was so tired. It was becoming more and more difficult to remain conscious. Sleep...

And no more dreams.

The shivering stopped. Yes, he was almost there.

Wait.

Something was different, all of a sudden.

He tried to speak.

Then a sound, words he didn't recognize, softly spoken, and a gentle hand on his forehead.

An orange glow was spoiling the perfection of absolute darkness. And warmth, warmth... Tingling sensations, all over his body, the hint of pain. It was slowly being roused from its slumber, and riddled his limbs with growing intensity. The heat from without was feeding a corresponding fire, from within; his teeth began to chatter, and his body to quake.

"Where..." The smooth velvet of his voice was gone, replaced by a grating rasp. What had happened? Karkaroff... He'd been searching for Karkaroff, and...

The Dark Mark flared. His eyes snapped open and his back arched. He tried to scream, but all that emanated from his throat was a hiss.

The voices grew alarmed, and he felt more hands on his body, restraining him. Dark forms all around him; he couldn't focus.

"Make it... stop -stop..." he said.

"You are sick, we are helping you, please be calm," one of the black figures said, speaking in English this time. "Do not be afraid."

Soon, weakness overcame Severus's thrashing motions and he lay still, trembling with agony, and wept. Death would come, but denied the comfort of an icy tomb, he found himself lashed to a stake.

"My name is Father Nikolski. You have received injuries. Do you remember? We found you in the gardens a week ago."

Severus blinked, watched the man swim in and out of his vision like a mirage. He thought he saw a silver beard, a shiny object on his black robe...

"Burns... it... the... the Mark..." His face contorted. "Help me..."

No one could help him, though. He knew this only too well, but he begged nevertheless, for relief, for mercy, driven mad by the searing, unbearable pain.

Severus barely heard the man say, "I shall, my child. We shall free you of this evil."

There was the rustle of robes and shuffling footsteps and urgent whispers. Hands gripped his shoulders, his wrists, his ankles. The priest then spoke in that foreign tongue again, and water was poured on Severus's arm.

He drew in his breath. A sharp, violent spasm shook his body, and the burning on his arm cooled and disappeared completely, as though it had been nothing more than a spark snuffed out by the wind.

"You are awake?"

Severus stirred again, and his eyelids fluttered. He looked around. There was a fire in the hearth. The window was streaked by frost. Strange golden images on the whitewashed walls seemed to be gazing down at him, inexplicably comforting him.

A tall man dressed in black was smiling at him. He looked somehow familiar... "How are you feeling, Severus?"

"I... How do you know y name?"

"I received a message. It was addressed to me, and spoke of you."

Severus's eyes widened. "An owl... Was it brought by an owl? I must read it-"

He tried to get up, but couldn't. It was as if there was no strength left in his body.

"You must lie down, and not worry. I have sent a response for you," the man said. "To your Headmaster Dumbledore. He knows that you are being cared for, I have given him all the necessary details."

"Where am I?"

"At the monastery of St John Chrysostom. I am Father Nikolski."

A slight frown creased Severus's brow. "I have heard that name before."

"You had a very bad fever when I first introduced myself," Father Nikolski said.

"How long... how long have I been here?"

"Almost one month."

Severus paled. He had surely failed his mission now. And what of Voldemort -had the Dark Lord tried to summon him? Once more Severus attempted to rise, but the holy man placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"You are safe," Father Nikolski said. "Do not exert yourself needlessly."

"You don't understand, I have to..."

"Eat. That is the first thing you need to do, and perhaps after you have rested, we can answer some questions."

"But I..." Severus's voice trailed away, and he sighed. There was something so peaceful about the room, about Father Nikolski's gentle presence, that he didn't wish to argue any longer. And, the strangest feeling, a loss, an absence of the bitterness that had characterized so much of his existence... He couldn't explain it, but decided to give in to it. "Perhaps some soup... Father. I feel... very weak."

"Yes. It is natural. We must build your strength. Is it not useful to worry about anything other than that now -your Headmaster is of the same opinion."

Severus nodded. Besides, there was nothing he could do about Voldemort or Karkaroff in this condition.

I may as well... allow myself to heal. For once...

Father Nikolski patted Severus on the chest. "Very good."

****

It was evening when Severus awoke again.

A man was sitting in a chair near the sputtering fire; he was holding what looked like a rope made up of a series of knots which slid one by one between his thumb and forefinger, and his lips moved almost soundlessly.

Severus kept his eyes closed half-way and peered at the golden pictures that hung on the walls. One depicted a woman holding a child, or rather, what looked like the miniature version of a full-grown man. The one next to it was another portrait, of a man with a solemn expression, wearing a blue robe over a red tunic, and cradling a book. The same man could be seen in several other paintings. Seated on a throne, or ascending toward the sky, or nailed to a cross.

Then something caught Severus's attention, a gold spark. He glanced downwards. Where his Dark Mark was, a bandage encircled his arm; over it was a cross, held in place with a white ribbon.

"What is this?"

The man who was keeping watch over Severus rose from his chair.

"Forgive me. I did not realize you were awake. I am Brother Theodosus."

"I did not notice this before," Severus murmured. "Why is my... my arm bandaged? Was the- was it... bleeding?"

"It is because-"

Brother Theodosus was interrupted by Father Nikolski entering the room.

"The professor has just woken, Father," Brother Theodosus said.

"You are looking better, Severus," the priest said.

"Father..." His eyes darted towards his arm. "What happened on the night... you found me?"

"Why, a miracle, my child. Of course."

"A miracle."

Father Nikolski nodded.

"I don't understand," Severus said.

"Let me ask you this. That mark, you received it of your own free will, did you not?"

Severus winced and said, "Yes."

"But it was a decision you came to regret."

"Yes."

"Do not cry. Everyone has such a mark, you know, it simply has a different appearance from one person to another. All of us have made the wrong choice at some point."

A harsh laugh was torn from Severus's chest.

"A wrong... choice. You make it sound like such a small thing. You saw the mark, didn't you? Did you take a good look at it? There's... there's nothing more horrible on earth than that mark. It is the seal of absolute evil. And I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything."

"You are tired. It is not good to get upset. It is not necessary, Severus-"

"If you knew what I've done, you would throw me out of here without delay. You wouldn't even bother to dress me. I am... accursed."

"Young man, you must calm yourself, and not speak such words. Perhaps I should show how you have changed."

He touched Severus's arm, and the wizard flinched.

"It is all right," the priest said. He removed first the cross, then slowly unraveled the bandage, and the air was filled with the fragrance of a sweet smelling oil. Severus watched, suddenly unable to breathe.

"No."

"My dearest to Christ, there is nothing to fear," Father Nikolski said. "Look."

After a few moments, Severus tore his gaze from the priest's, and braced himself for the dreadful sight -that loathsome image which haunted him night and day...

It was gone.

He stared and stared at the smooth patch of skin; he shook his head and tried to speak, but no words left his lips.

"You see, now. You are no longer, as you said, a cursed one."

Severus began to shake.

"Peace be with you," the priest said, and laid his hand on Severus's head.

The Potions Master relaxed under Father Nikolski's touch, and closed his eyes. "How... What sort of magic is it you possess? Not even Albus could remove the mark. What you've done is impossible."

"Magic, hm. That is man's dominion. Here we rely on the power of God, but combined with the will of man. Yes? There was much repentance in you. It makes everything possible with God."

"Repentance," Severus said. "That particular concept... I am most familiar with. But I don't know the God of whom you speak."

"It explains much. But enough talking for now; all in good time." He covered Severus with the sheet and gently squeezed his shoulder. "You are comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I shall see you in the morning, Severus, and we will continue our talk. Sleep well. Brother Theodosius will watch over you."

"Good night, Father."

****

For as long as he could remember, the rays of dawn had been detestable to Severus. He'd preferred by far the comforting embrace of twilight and its ever lengthening shadows, where he could disappear, at one with the darkness. But the morning after he discovered that he'd been freed from Voldemort's clutches, he found himself entranced by the pale blue of the morning sky, by its luminescent yellows, almost like a breath of light. It made those golden paintings on the walls glimmer softly, and made him yearn for something he could not name.

Then Brother Theodosius came into the room, carrying a tray.

"You must be hungry," he said. "I have brought your breakfast."

Severus eyed the bacon, eggs, buttered toast, fresh jam, oatmeal and tea with surprise and said, "I don't know if I can eat all this." Then his stomach growled.

"Eat what you can," the monk said, smiling. "I think it will be most of it."

It soon turned out that Brother Theodosius was correct; Severus left little on his plate. The food was delicious, but he was also anxious to regain his strength and get out of bed.

"Thank you," he said when he could eat no more. "I can't recall the last time I had such an excellent breakfast." In truth, he'd rarely eaten breakfast; rarely eaten much of anything, actually. Between teaching potions and his duties as a spy, his appetite had usually been one of the first things to suffer.

The monk bowed and said, "Would you like a hot bath?"

Severus almost groaned with pleasure at the thought. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"I will have some of the brothers prepare one for you."

A few minutes later, returned with a couple of monks and a large copper tub, which they filled with steaming water.

Brother Theodosius then helped Severus to undress and sit into the tub.

"Do you need help to bathe?" the monk asked Severus.

"I will be all right."

"Call me if you require assistance. I will be near the door."

Severus leaned back against the tub and exhaled. He imagined that most of his students would be shocked to know how much he was enjoying this. Probably most of the teachers as well. But he'd kept so many things hidden, could he blame them for assuming whatever they wished, especially since he encouraged it by his unapproachable behavior?

He sighed and reached for the bar of soap. He'd been hurt too often to be approachable. At least, that had always been his reasoning.

The Dark Mark, his past as a Death Eater, his demeanor, everything: it had all served to shield him from others.

Except that now, he didn't have the mark anymore.

He looked at his forearm again. Not a trace remained of Voldemort's insignia; not even a vague outline. It didn't feel so much as though it'd been removed. His skin didn't burn, or sting, or ache. It was more like the mark had somehow been... washed off.

He nodded to himself. Yes. That's exactly what it felt like.

Severus finished bathing and immersed his body in the warm water. Then he stepped out, grabbed the towel that lay folded by the tub and began drying himself.

There was a knock at the door.

"Severus? May I come in?"

It was Father Nikolski.

"Yes, Father," Severus said, wrapping the towel around his waist.

"I have some clothes for you," the priest said. He indicated the long black tunic draped over his arm. "I am afraid that your robes were damaged beyond repair, but as you can see, we have something similar."

Severus was about to reply when he was abruptly seized by a wave of dizziness. Father Nikolski was at his side in an instant.

"Are you all right? Perhaps you have moved too quickly. You have been in bed for quite a long time."

"I'm fine," Severus said.

"Let us get you dressed." The priest slipped the tunic over Severus's head and helped him ease into the sleeves. "There. How is that?"

"I feel a bit more like myself," Severus said. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome. Now, sit. I have some coverings for your feet."

He guided Severus to the bed, knelt down, and the Potions Master was shod with black felt slippers.

"We don't want you to catch cold. You are sufficiently warm?"

"Yes. This is all very kind of you. I'm not- I'm not used to this sort of thing."

"I understand. I can see that you have been much harmed."

Severus's throat clenched, and a tight smile stretched his lips. "Not as much as I've harmed others."

"There is no one on this earth who has not harmed another in some way. But there are few who feel as sorrowful as you do because of past errors."

"It doesn't change anything."

"You cannot change the past, but you can change your ways, and transform the future."

"I don't know, Father. It may be too late."

The priest held out his arm and said, "Come, Severus. Let us go for a short stroll. It will be good for you."

Severus slowly rose, and held on to Father Nikolski for support. He'd never been one for physical contact, but it seemed natural to rely on the priest's gentle assistance.

"All right?" Father Nikolski said.

"Yes. Thank you."

They walked down the large hallway silently. After a while, the priest put an arm around Severus's shoulders and said, "Something is on your mind."

"I was just thinking how beautiful it is here," Severus said. He looked at the large icons that lined the walls. "These images are intriguing. All of those people they depict are so... peaceful."

"I hear longing in your voice."

"It isn't a state I will ever be able to attain."

Father Nikolski said nothing, and Severus went on. "I have committed unspeakable acts. I've tried to atone for them, but it's never enough. Suffering is not enough. Death is the only perfection of which I am capable."

"You are becoming tired. Come, let us sit in the chapel. It is right around the corner."

Soon, Severus found himself entering a place unlike any he'd ever seen. He felt as though he were stepping into another world.

Everywhere he looked, tall, thin candles burned, islands of light in the semi-obscurity of the room. There were chairs along the walls, and except for the ornate carpets on the floor, the center of the chapel was empty space. But most arresting of all was the wall of icons that stood before him; in the middle of it were two golden doors, beyond which was an altar.

"What is this place?" Severus said. The darkness would have reminded him of his dungeons, were it not for those brass candle holders and their innumerable, glimmering lights...

Father Nikolski helped him sit down and said, "This is where we worship God."

"I see," Severus said, his dark eyes wandering across the room. On the left side, in front of the iconostasis, was a large cross. Upon it, the painted image of that man, that crucified man Severus had seen before.

Suddenly, the name came to him. Jesus Christ.

Severus's knowledge of the Muggle world was minimal. He knew even less about Muggle religions. What use could such information possibly have been to him? Besides, he belonged to an ancient wizarding family. Anything that had to do with Muggles was either suspicious or farcical or at the very most, odd.

St. Mungo had been a Christian, of course. A rather eccentric wizard in life, he was still widely regarded as a kook by the magical community. It no doubt explained the sheer number of lunatics residing on a permanent basis at the hospital that bore the saint's name.

But now, Severus wanted to know more about the Muggle God.

Why did he endure such a terrible death?

Blood flowed from Christ's side, and his palms were raised, as though offering a prayer... as though offering himself. There was something so virtuous, so exalted, and so painful about the sight of him, with his head bowed and his pierced body, that Severus felt his throat tighten. "I... I should not be here."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. There are too many... lights."

"You were contemplating the cross."

"It's just... He doesn't look like he's done anything wrong. Certainly nothing that would justify such a violent end." Severus lowered his gaze. "I would deserve it."

"You sound like the one who was crucified next to him."

"Really."

"And he said as well, remember me, when you come into your Kingdom."

"What did the Christ reply?"

Father Nikolski's eyebrows shot up. "You know his name. That is excellent, Severus."

"I know almost nothing about your world, Father. But I've heard the name. It came to me moments ago."

"Ah."

"Well, Father? What did he tell this man?"

"He said, today, you will be with me in paradise."

Severus's vision blurred. This is ridiculous... Why am I listening to this nonsense? Paradise... indeed...

But his heart was thudding inside his chest. Hope, insidious, futile hope, filled him despite his best efforts at squelching it. No, no, no. I have to leave this place, now.

"Severus, I am speaking the truth."

"The criminal is forgiven, then. Just like that. It is a fairy tale," Severus said with a hoarse voice. "I don't believe it." He glanced at the cross, then squeezed his eyes shut. This was sentimental hogwash. He was in a vulnerable state, weakened by his treatment at the hands of Death Eaters.

You will be with me in paradise.

Severus drew in a trembling breath. It was a deception. Like everything else.

"I think you believe, Severus," Father Nikolski said. "Only you are afraid."

"Father, that's enough. I'm grateful for all you've done, but I can't continue this discussion."

The priest pulled a small leather book from his robes. "Severus, I would like you to do one thing for me before we go back to your room."

After a moment of silence, Severus said, "Very well."

"Read this passage, here."

Out of consideration for the priest's kindness, Severus complied. "Thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it Thee: but Thou delightest not in burnt offerings."

"Go on, dearest to Christ."

"The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit."

You will be with me in paradise.

"One more line," Father Nikolski said.

"I can't. Please, Father... I know you're trying to help, but..."

"One more line."

"A broken and contrite heart, O God... shalt Thou not despise." Severus choked out the last words, unable now to suppress the tears that had threatened to spill since he'd begun reading.

"It is all right," Father Nikolski said, embracing the grief-stricken man. "You realize that you have exactly what God wants. A broken heart. That is all God desires."

"It doesn't make sense," Severus said against the priest's shoulder. "Why did the Christ die if all God wants is broken hearts? Don't Christians believe he is... the Son of God?"

"There are many things I would like to tell you about, Severus, but you are exhausted. So for now I will say this. Only Life itself could destroy death. Our Lord Jesus Christ died the way he did to show us exactly how far perfect love is willing to go. But, I am overwhelming you."

"No, Father. I do want to hear more, though I need to rest... just a little."

"Yes, of course you do. Come. I will help you to bed now."

Before they left, Severus looked back at the cross one more time.

If you are real, come to me.

****

Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and upon those in the tombs bestowing life.

~ from the Paschal Service

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door,
I will come in and eat with him,
and he with me.

~ Apocalypse 3:20

Come and do Your will in me.
Come when You wish and as You see fit.
Come like a breeze, like a blessing, if You think it right.
Come like a thunderbolt to test me and burn up my being,
If You think that is how it should be.

~John Taverner, from Darkness into Light (the Hymn of Entry and Orthodox Liturgy)

The Headmaster rose from his chair.

"Severus, my dear boy... is that really you?"

"Yes, Albus. I'm sorry I was away for so long."

Dumbledore went to Severus and stared at him.

"You needed the rest. I've never seen you looking so well. My dear Severus!" The Headmaster could no longer contain himself and hugged the Potions Master. A few seconds later, Dumbledore became aware of the fact that Severus had not grown tense. More than that -he was returning the embrace.

"I have missed you, Albus."

"Why, that's... very kind of you to say," Dumbledore said. "We have all missed you here. Sit, sit, dear lad."

The Headmaster returned to his own chair and rummaged through a large bowl of candy. "Lemon drop?"

"Thank you," Severus said.

Dumbledore did a double-take. "Um... Yes. Here you are. So. I understand the Orthodox priests treated you most well."

There was a hint of sorrow in Severus's face. "They did. They saved my life, and they helped me to recover. In more ways than one."

"I received many positive letters from your Father Nikolski. He seemed like a very pleasant man."

Snape nodded.

"Would you have liked to remain with them a little longer? I hope I didn't-"

"No, Albus, it was time for me to return to Hogwarts. You needed me, and I came. The school year is about to begin, and... My place is here."

"Perhaps you can visit them next summer," Dumbledore said.

"That is a good idea." But Severus's voice was laced with sadness.

"I am so glad to see you," Dumbledore said. "When I found out what had happened... That we'd nearly lost you..."

"The Death Eaters thought it would be more amusing to leave me to die than to finish me off quickly. I can only imagine they have paid dearly for that mistake. However, I do know that Voldemort intends to kill me. I regret to say I am no longer useful as a spy, Albus, but you already know this."

"It doesn't matter. You have done everything you could, and much, much more. You will now be in the position to help students who may be tempted to join the Dark Lord's ranks. I cannot think of a more important duty."

"Neither can I."

****

The Slytherins and Gryffindors ran into the Potions classroom -late, due to a particularly ferocious Quidditch practice.

"Oh, crud, crud, crud!" Ron said right before he, Harry and Hermione entered the class. "Snape is going to kill us."

The Potions Master hadn't been seen since last winter. The usual rumours, that he was sick, dead, or sacked, circulated for at least a month, and then the Headmaster had made the announcement that their most feared teacher had been injured and was being treated at an undisclosed location.

The majority of students had hoped he would stay there. No such luck.

After his prolonged absence, he was likely to be very irritable indeed, denied the right to yell at students for more than six months...

He was standing at the board, writing down lecture notes, and did not even turn around when the students rushed in.

"We are so, so dead," Ron said. In his hurry to get to his seat, he dropped his books and notes on the floor. "Crap! Is he looking?" he asked Hermione.

"No," she whispered, and helped Ron gather his scattered belongings. "Just stop panicking and sit down."

At last, the students settled down, and looked at their Potions Master with a combination of curiosity and dread.

Then, he faced the class. The Gryffindors and Slytherins alike held their breaths.

"Children," he said.

Their mouths dropped open. He had never, ever spoken to them with such a patient tone. He only seemed mildly annoyed.

"I know how much you enjoy your Quidditch practices, and how distracting they can be. But please try to remember that you have double Potions after, and that it isn't polite to keep your Potions Master waiting. Am I understood?"

At last Hermione said, "Yes -yes sir, uh, Professor Snape, sir."

"Well then, get your cauldrons ready. We are- yes, Miss Granger?"

"It's good to, um, to have you back, sir."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Now. We are going to brew a simple healing potion. I want you all to get reacquainted with your potions ingredients before we move on to something more complex. Unless, of course, you have all been studying this summer, not just Miss Granger? No? Well, we shall stick with something safe for the time being."

When the students got over their shock, they began to follow the instructions the Potions Master had written on the board.

"Somebody replaced Snape with some benevolent doppelganger," Ron said, mangling his nightshade roots and gaping at Severus at the same time.

"Or the Death Eaters took his brain out and put a nicer one in by mistake," Harry said.

"He certainly seems... different. What could have happened to him? I mean, really happened," Hermione said before either Harry or Ron could suggest more outrageous scenarios.

"I bet you whatever you want that this is temporary insanity," Ron said.

"What else could it be?" Harry said.

The Potions Master rose from his seat; everyone stopped what they were doing, and waited to see the familiar swoop and stalk. But it didn't come.

Instead, he... wandered. He ambled between the rows of desks, peering at one cauldron, and another.

"Mister Malfoy, you need to add your wolfsbane now."

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Mister Weasley, the color is not quite right. Can you tell me why?"

"Uh... Uh..."

"I take it that would be no. Miss Granger, perhaps you can point out Mister Weasley's error to him?"

"I... well, he... um..."

"I know you know the answer, Miss Granger. Try again."

"He forgot the dried leech, Professor Snape," Hermione said, looking like she was going to faint.

"Very good. Five points to Gryffindor."

Hermione's complexion went from white to beet red.

Then, their teacher, or whoever this unknown man was, bent over Harry's cauldron. As he did so, something fell from his collar, a shiny, golden pendant hanging from a chain, but he failed to notice.

Hermione and Harry recognized it immediately. A cross.

"Mister Potter, this is slightly off," the Potions Master said. "It should be a shade lighter."

"Uh, Professor Snape, you, uh, your..."

"Mister Potter?"

Harry pointed at the object dangling from Severus's neck. "Your cross-"

For a fraction of a second, anger flashed in the Potions Master's eyes; his hand flew upwards and his fingers closed around the cross, as if to shield it. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, the anger was gone, replaced with something like regret.

"Thank you, Mister Potter. I should not want to lose it," he said quietly.

He was about to tuck it back inside his shirt, but Hermione said, "It's... very beautiful, sir. I've never seen one like it."

Severus hesitated, then held it out for her. "It is Orthodox, Miss Granger."

"You mean, Eastern Orthodox?"

"Yes. Russian Orthodox, to be more precise. A gift."

"Oh. Thank you," Hermione said, admiring it. "I had no idea that- I'm sorry, sir. It's really none of my business, um..."

He leaned closer to her, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "You don't have to apologize," he said so softly, she had to strain to hear him. "It is... a recent development."

She blinked and nodded.

He straightened and slipped the cross down his collar. "Well then, children. Back to work with you."

----

End of part one