The Christmas holiday at Hogwarts had officially begun, and the castle was nearly half empty. The noisy Great Hall had fallen quiet, and the long tables had been merged into just a few. Few students remained for the holidays. Lin Yanqing spotted several familiar Ravenclaw faces among them. By the Gryffindor table, the two red-haired Weasley boys, Charlie and Bill, were excitedly discussing the gifts they had received, while at the end of the Slytherin table, that black, solitary figure appeared as punctually as ever—then quickly vanished.
On Christmas morning, Lin Yanqing found a small pile of gifts at the foot of his bed. There were sweets from Ravenclaw classmates, a small pouch of Gold Galleons "gifted" by System Cub ("Host, you've worked hard! Happy holidays! (^▽^)"), and even a handmade card from Lily Evans. It depicted a smiling snowman and thanked him for his help in the corridor.
He hesitated for a long time before finally taking out a small box carefully wrapped in dark blue paper. Inside were some high-quality but not particularly rare potion ingredients he had ordered by owl post with Gold Galleons from an earlier quest reward—a packet of evenly sliced Moonpetal root and several well-preserved Drowsy Bean husks. He did not sign his name. He only placed a blank card inside.
He knew it was risky. Snape might throw it away outright, or worse, take it as an insulting act of charity. But he did it anyway. When the house-elves began delivering gifts to the students staying at school, he quietly slipped the little box among the one or two lonely parcels addressed to Snape at the entrance to the Slytherin boys' dormitory.
At breakfast, Snape appeared in the Great Hall looking even more sullen than usual. Before him, aside from breakfast, sat an unopened thin parcel from Spinner's End and Lin Yanqing's dark blue box. He first stared at the parcel from home with something close to hatred before shifting his gaze to the unfamiliar blue box.
Lin Yanqing lowered his head and ate his pudding, watching from the corner of his eye. He saw Snape cautiously tap the blue box with his wand and cast several simple detection spells. Only after confirming there were no curses or pranks did he unwrap it with his long, thin fingers, handling it with a care far beyond his years.
When he saw the Moonpetal root and Drowsy Bean husks inside, he visibly froze. His eyebrows rose slightly, and a spark of pure delight flashed in his black eyes—the look of a scholar encountering fine materials. But it was immediately swallowed by deeper suspicion. He picked up the blank card, turned it over and over, then looked back at the ingredients, his brow deeply furrowed.
He did not put the gift away at once, nor did he look toward the Ravenclaw table. He simply sat there, facing the anonymous present as though solving a complicated potion equation. Through the contract, Lin Yanqing could feel a powerful confusion and deliberation—the value of the gift, practical and suited to his needs, clashing violently with its unknown source, whose most obvious suspect was clear enough.
In the end, when breakfast was over and he rose to leave, he stuffed the dark blue box and its contents into his robe pocket. He did not touch the parcel from home.
That afternoon, fine snow drifted from the sky. Lin Yanqing wrapped his robe more tightly around himself and prepared to return several books to the library. As he crossed the snow-covered grounds behind the castle, he saw a black figure standing alone on the shore of the frozen Black Lake. It was Snape, whom he had seen in the Great Hall not long before.
He faced the gray lake without moving, like a frozen statue. Snow settled on his greasy black hair and thin robes, yet he seemed wholly unaware of it. Through the soul bond, a crushing emotion spread over Lin Yanqing like icy water, so heavy it nearly robbed him of breath—a mixture of sorrow, rage, and some cold, resolute finality.
Those were emotions from Spinner's End. They were the things contained within that thin parcel, the things Snape refused to face.
Lin Yanqing stopped. He neither approached nor left. He simply stood beneath the shadow of a nearby colonnade, silently watching the lonely figure by the lake. The system had issued no quest, and he had no planned course of action. Perhaps he simply felt that on such a cold day, no one should have to bear such emotions alone, even if that person was Severus Snape.
Time passed in silence, broken only by the low howl of wind and snow.
After an unknown length of time, Snape seemed to finally awaken from that frozen state. He suddenly moved, brusquely brushing the snow from his shoulders before turning to leave. Then he saw Lin Yanqing standing beneath the colonnade.
This time, his eyes did not immediately fill with their usual wariness or anger. There was still a deep exhaustion that had not fully faded, along with something akin to... emptiness. His gaze lingered on Lin Yanqing's face a second longer than usual, as if trying to discern something from his calm expression.
Lin Yanqing did not avoid his gaze, nor did he attempt any gesture of friendliness. He merely stood there, as silent as the colonnade behind him.
Snape's lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing. He looked away, pulled his robes tighter, lowered his head, and hurried past Lin Yanqing, bringing a gust of cold air with him.
But in the instant they passed each other, Lin Yanqing did not feel any new ice spikes form. The emotion flowing through the soul bond remained heavy and cold, yet no new hostility had been added.
That night, when Lin Yanqing returned to the Ravenclaw common room, he found a small roll of parchment on his bedside table. There was neither salutation nor signature, only a single line in familiar, elegant handwriting listing several more obscure book titles concerning soul magic and bloodline contracts.
It was still a demand. Still exploitation.
Yet when Lin Yanqing picked up the roll of parchment, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. This had not been thrown at him. It had been "placed" here.
That tiny change was like a faint warm current beneath the ice-covered lake, almost impossible to notice. It could not melt the solid ice, but it foretold that some absolute state of frozen stillness had already passed.
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