Interesting.
Douglas stared straight at him.
For a moment, Voldemort wondered whether he had given himself away.
"Severus Snape, former Death Eater, master of Dark Magic, a man with blood all over his hands. And now you're telling me souls are sacred?"
Snape's expression instantly darkened further.
It was an act, of course.
Voldemort had to admit that Douglas had a terrifying grasp of human nature. Even wearing Snape's appearance, he felt almost persuaded.
"That was all in the past," Snape said through gritted teeth, his tone carrying the anger of someone whose sore spot had been struck. "Dumbledore gave me a second chance-"
"Oh, please." Douglas scoffed. "Dumbledore didn't give you a second chance. He gave you a position where you could atone. But you know better than anyone that your knowledge of Dark Magic and your obsession with souls have never diminished..."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like a devil whispering in someone's ear.
"Aren't you curious, professor? What exactly is a soul? What is it made of? Why are some souls as fragile as a sheet of paper, while others are so resilient that they can be torn seven times without dissipating?"
"You've spent your whole life studying Potions and Dark Magic. Have you really never thought about taking one step deeper? What if you could bring someone back to life?"
Snape said nothing.
He stared fixedly at Douglas, his chest heaving as though he were struggling to suppress something.
Act. Keep acting.
Voldemort sneered inwardly.
Oh, Douglas. You think you're tempting Snape? You think you've seized on Snape's obsession with Dark Magic?
You're wrong.
You're speaking to the Dark Lord himself.
The bait you're offering is a thousand times more tempting to the real Dark Lord than the sweetest honey.
Clearly, this matter would