Sending Out Flowers

Snape's arm clamped down on his wrist like a vice, the force so great it felt like his bones were cracking.

Snape yanked him back forcefully, his hollow black eyes glinting with extreme danger in the dim light, staring intently at him, his voice low and oppressive:

"Leoqi... what are you doing here? Following me?"

Skofot could feel the anger and icy scrutiny radiating from Snape, almost freezing him solid.

He struggled, but couldn't break free, only causing Snape to grip him tighter.

[Emotion Points +40] (From Snape's anger, vigilance, and sense of being offended)

[Emotion Points: 635/100]

Skofot stopped struggling, raised his head, the embarrassment on his face quickly fading, replaced by an almost childlike innocent expression.

With his free hand, he slowly reached into an inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a small white flower, carefully wrapped in silver-green satin.

The flower looked exceptionally delicate and pure white in the dim light, completely out of sync with the tense atmosphere.

He held up the flower, offering it to Snape, his voice calm, even with a strange seriousness, "Professor, this... is for you."

Snape: "..."

He looked down at the small flower, meticulously (though clumsily) wrapped, then looked up at Skofot's face, whose true emotions were hidden in the shadows, his brows furrowed tightly.

Absurd, bizarre, incomprehensible!

This kid followed him in the middle of the night just to give him a flower?!

A surge of anger at being toyed with, mixed with intense wariness, churned in his chest.

He released the hand gripping Skofot's wrist (which already bore a clear red mark), as if touching something dirty, his tone chilling to the extreme: "Take away your... pointless trick."

He didn't even glance at the flower, turning to leave, his black robe sweeping in a decisive arc at the hem.

However, the moment he turned, a glint of triumph flashed in Skofot's eyes, and he gave his wrist a sharp flick!

The cursed little flower, as if imbued with life, drew a precise arc and whoosh, slipped through the slightly open collar of Snape's black robe from the back!

The cool flower, with its fresh botanical touch, instantly pressed against the skin of Snape's nape.

Snape's departing steps abruptly halted, his entire body stiffening instantly!

He could clearly feel the sensation of the foreign object caught between his robe and his neck!

He spun around sharply, his pale face contorted slightly with extreme anger and disbelief, looking at the black-haired boy who was now shrugging with a look of "innocence."

Skofot took a step back and said quickly, "Goodnight, Professor!"

Then, before Snape could react, he turned and fled at top speed, his figure quickly disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.

Snape stood frozen, his chest heaving a few times.

He reached behind his neck and roughly pulled out the cursed little flower, pinching it between his fingers.

The white petals looked exceptionally glaring against his pale fingertips and the black fabric.

He stared at the flower, then at the direction Skofot had disappeared, his hollow black eyes churning with icy, bone-chilling rage and a deeper, more profound inquiry.

[Emotion Points +60] (From Snape's fury, extreme discomfort, and strong sense of provocation)

[Emotion Points: 695/100]

In the end, he didn't throw the flower away. Instead, he clutched it tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

He turned and strode towards the dungeon office, the oppressive aura radiating from him almost enough to freeze the surrounding air.

Meanwhile, Skofot, having successfully executed his plan, returned to his dormitory in high spirits.

He closed the door, felt the clear positioning of the little flower in his mind, located within Snape's office, and contentedly lay down on his bed.

Tonight, the harvest was plentiful. He closed his eyes, anticipating what he might "see" through the little flower tomorrow.

In the dungeon office, the light was dim. Snape leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping absently on the desk.

Insomnia, like a clinging maggot, had long been his norm, but tonight was even worse.

That little monster named Leoqi, and his extremely uncomfortable "gift," hung over him like a dark cloud.

His gaze fell upon the small, somewhat misshapen white flower at the corner of the desk, still stubbornly wrapped in silver-green satin.

In the dim light, it looked so fragile, so... out of place.

He didn't believe it.

He didn't believe that Leoqi, who the Sorting Hat had shouted "Azkaban" for, who carried a colder aura than some Dark Wizards, and whose behavior was erratic and unpredictable, would suddenly have a whim to follow him in the middle of the night, merely to give him an ordinary flower symbolizing "purity" or "friendship."

That was absolutely impossible.

Time passed in silence, the shadows of large creatures occasionally swimming through the depths of the Black Lake outside the window.

Snape maintained the same posture for an unknown duration, so long that the flames in the fireplace were almost extinguished.

He felt a flicker of annoyance, mixed with the torment of curiosity and wariness sparked by the boy's strange behavior.

He couldn't just stare at the ceiling until dawn again.

He needed to do something.

He reached out, with a caution bordering on disgust, and picked up the flower with two fingers.

The petals felt soft, with the characteristic coolness of a plant.

He examined it casually, trying to find any visible abnormalities.

Soaked in poison?

Subtle magical runes?

Nothing.

This looked like an ordinary flower, plucked casually from a greenhouse.

...Wait!

Snape's body, which had been lazily leaning back in his chair, suddenly tensed, like a startled snake.

A sharp glint flashed across his ashen face.

Too ordinary... abnormally ordinary!

Given the strangeness and potential danger displayed by Leoqi, how could anything he sent be without a trick?

A strong intuition seized him.

He suddenly sat up, holding the flower before his eyes, his previously vacant black eyes instantly bursting with astonishing focus and sharpness.

He no longer held back, and powerful magic surged from him like an invisible tide, enveloping the small white flower without reservation!

Magic meticulously scanned every petal, every delicate vein, the silk wrapping the stem, and even the extremely faint magical traces lingering in the air...

Found it!

At the junction where the seemingly harmless silk met the flower stem, He detected an extremely hidden magical residue, as fine as a spider's silk, yet with a certain ominous stickiness!

This was definitely not the trace of a Protective Charm or Transfiguration taught at Hogwarts.

This aura... was cold, bizarre, and carried a clinging, bone-deep sense of entanglement.

It was the trace of a Curse!

Although he couldn't immediately determine the specific effect of this curse.

Was it surveillance? Weakening?

Or something more malicious...

But without a doubt, this was a curse cast using this flower as a medium!