Sending Gifts

[Emotion Points -5 (Manifestation Card) -5 (Teleport Card)]

[Emotion Points: 1440/100]

The dungeon was silent late at night, save for the faint crackling of torches on the walls.

Snape had just taken off his robe, stained with the scents of various potion ingredients, and was about to enjoy a rare moment of solitude when an extremely faint spatial fluctuation, utterly out of place, caused his muscles to tense instantly.

He spun around, wand already in hand, and demanded sharply, "Who's there?!"

From the shadows of his bedroom, a small, thin figure slowly emerged.

Skofot Leoqi stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his face devoid of expression, as if being teleported into a professor's bedroom by unknown means in the middle of the night was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Snape's pupils contracted sharply, and shock and rage surged through him like icy flames.

It was him again! That persistent little monster!

How could he have bypassed Hogwarts' defenses and his own wards to appear directly here?!

"Leoqi!" Snape's voice trembled slightly, a mix of extreme anger and a barely perceptible tremor of fear, "How dare you--!"

"Professor," Skofot interrupted him, his voice terrifyingly steady, a bizarre contrast to his act of intruding upon someone's private space.

He ignored the wand pointed at him and instead brought his hands from behind his back.

In his hand was a plain-looking, palm-sized cardboard box.

The tip of Snape's wand didn't waver. His gaze, sharp as a knife, fixed on the box as if it contained a venomous snake.

He felt that familiar, stifling sense of being manipulated, coupled with an intense, almost instinctive feeling of danger.

Every time this boy appeared, he brought inexplicable anomalies and unsettling "gifts."

Skofot gently placed the box on a nearby table cluttered with various items, his movements careful, as if handling something fragile.

He raised his eyes to look at Snape. His dark eyes held no emotion, merely stating clearly:

"Inside this box is Lily Evans' hair."

The words struck Snape like the most vicious curse, or a bolt of lightning.

The color drained from his face instantly, even his lips turned pale.

For the first time, his hollow black eyes showed a near-shattering shock and...

An undeniable, bone-deep pain.

The hand holding his wand trembled uncontrollably.

Li... Lily?

No! Impossible! How could he have... This must be a scheme! A test from Dumbledore? Or... something else?

Snape's mind was in chaos, the immense impact almost robbing him of the ability to think.

He stared intently at the box, then suddenly shifted his gaze to Skofot, his voice hoarse, "What... What did you say?"

"Lily Evans' hair,"

Skofot repeated, his tone utterly flat. "You can verify its authenticity with Polyjuice Potion."

Polyjuice Potion... verify...

Snape's heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it difficult to breathe.

Of course, he knew Polyjuice Potion could verify the origin of hair.

If... if this really was...

He dared not think further. What would that mean?

It would mean this bizarre first-year student not only knew Lily and his past with her, but could even obtain Lily's mementos!

Who was he?! Where did he get this?!

After the immense shock came a tidal wave of rage and cold killing intent.

Snape lunged forward, his wand nearly touching Skofot's nose, and gritted out, laced with a hint of bloodlust, "Who... are... you?!"

Skofot seemed oblivious to the wand inches from his face and the palpable killing intent.

He calmly met Snape's bloodshot eyes, clouded with intense emotion, and gently shook his head.

"A student at Hogwarts, don't you remember?"

He paused, then added, his voice still placid, but like a poisoned needle, "I believe you'll need it. After all, some things, once seen, are seen for the last time."

After delivering this pointed, almost cruel remark, Skofot didn't linger.

He took a step back, his form beginning to blur, like ink dissolving into shadows, clearly preparing to use his strange teleportation ability again.

"Stop!" Snape shouted, trying to bind him with magic, but the spatial fluctuation was as swift as it was sudden. His spell caught only emptiness.

Skofot vanished, as abruptly as he had appeared.

All that remained in the bedroom was Snape's heavy breathing and the box lying quietly on the table, seemingly containing an endless storm.

Snape stood frozen, and after a long while, as if drained of all strength, he staggered to the table.

His gaze was fixed on the box, his fingers trembling. He reached out several times, only to snatch them back as if burned.

Lily's... hair?

He ultimately lacked the courage to open it immediately.

He simply stood there, petrified, a tempest raging within his hollow eyes—

shock, pain, doubt, murderous intent, and a deep, almost consuming fear.

This boy named Skofot Leoqi was no longer merely a "problem student."

He had become a walking enigma, an extremely dangerous entity striking precisely at his most painful spot.

Tonight, Severus Snape was destined to have no sleep.

[Emotion Points +150] (From Snape's extreme shock, pain, murderous intent, and cognitive dissonance)

[Emotion Points: 1590/100]

The next afternoon, at the end of a disused corridor in the castle, sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting pale patches of light on the dusty stone floor.

Snape, like a condensed shadow, blocked the only exit.

His face was expressionless, but his eyes, like black holes, churned with a storm suppressed all night—

anger, suspicion, and a cold murderous intent born from having his deepest taboo touched.

Skofot stopped as soon as he reached the area, locked onto by the palpable pressure.

He halted, looked up, his face showing no surprise.

"Leoqi," Snape's voice was low and smooth, yet more chilling than any shriek. Each syllable sounded as if dredged from the depths of an ice cellar.

"We need to talk. About last night. About... the thing you sent."

He stepped forward, his tall figure almost completely engulfing Skofot, exuding a pressure mixed with aged potions and a certain sharp emotion.

"I believe you owe me an explanation. A convincing explanation about how you obtained it, and about what... exactly you are."

Though his wand was not raised, his fingertips twitched slightly, clearly ready to cast the most malicious curse at any moment.

The surrounding air seemed to freeze, dust suspended in the light beams, afraid to fall.

Skofot listened quietly, his face still expressionless. Only in the depths of his eyes did a faint, almost imperceptible calculation flicker.

He knew Snape would come for him, just not so soon, so directly.

Just as Snape waited for his answer, preparing to decide whether to use Legilimency or Cruciatus first based on his reaction, Skofot suddenly tilted his head slightly, his gaze briefly losing focus, as if listening to a sound only he could hear.

Then, he revealed an extremely slight curve of his lips to Snape, barely amounting to a smile.

There was no warmth in that smile; instead, it carried a hint of... mockery?

"Professor," he began, his voice still steady, "some answers are more painful to know than not to know."

The moment his words fell, without giving Snape time to react or comprehend their meaning, Skofot's figure suddenly twisted and blurred before his eyes, like the reflection on water disturbed by a thrown stone, instantly shattering and dissipating—

He had vanished.

Completely, silently, leaving no trace of magical fluctuation, nor any sign of the Apparition or Disapparition (forbidden within the school) that should have been present.

It was as if he had never stood there, and all the conversation and confrontation had merely been Snape's hallucination.