Undercurrents Under New Rules

The days after the Stabilization Ritual felt like a newly thrown pair of dice; the rules remained the same, but the outcome was different.

The most noticeable change occurred in Potions class. When Professor Slughorn assigned the creation of a "Calming Potion," which required a high degree of emotional stability, Snape's movements were as fluid as ever. However, through the now more "open" bond, Lin Yanqing could clearly sense that Snape wasn't entirely unaffected. The moment any negative emotion surfaced, a gentle restraint originating from the contract itself would subtly intervene, like an invisible buffer, quietly smoothing away the irritation or anxiety that could have impacted the potion. Snape's potion was flawless, earning Professor Slughorn's praise once again. Yet, Snape's expression as he stared at the crystal-clear potion was even more somber than usual.

He seemed to view this as a form of deprivation—a stripping away of his right to "real" emotions, even negative ones.

In Charms class, the situation was more nuanced when learning a "Cheering Charm," which required summoning a touch of exhilaration. James Potter successfully made his quill flutter like a small flag, drawing admiration. When it was Snape's turn, he pursed his lips, struggling to stir up the "exhilaration" that felt so foreign to him, with little success. However, just as he was about to give up, a faint but definite emotional fluctuation of "steadfastness" and "focus" traveled through the bond from Lin Yanqing (who was trying to recall the sense of accomplishment from completing his first major project before transmigrating).

Snape's quill gave a sudden twitch. While it didn't wave like James's, it emitted a brief, steady golden light.

Professor Flitwick adjusted his glasses in surprise. "Oh! Mr. Snape! A very good attempt! It seems you've found your own way! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Snape froze. He looked at his quill, which had returned to its original state, in disbelief. Then, he abruptly turned to look at Lin Yanqing, his dark eyes filled with shock and an offended anger. He had succeeded, but it felt like "that person's" power was mixed into this success? This was even harder for him to accept than outright failure.

Lin Yanqing met his gaze calmly, his face expressionless. He hadn't intended to help; his emotions had simply flowed over naturally as he focused on himself. But this accidental event revealed a possibility under the new rules—they might be able to subtly influence each other's magical performance without realizing it.

For Snape, this was nothing short of a nightmare.

"Host, host! Detected intense emotional fluctuations from bonded target! (⊙﹏⊙) Stability is decreasing!" System Cub's urgent alert chimed.

Indeed, over the next few days, Snape began a new, more covert round of resistance. He stopped attempting dangerous magical experiments and instead tried to use Legilimency techniques to forcibly seal his emotional outlets. Lin Yanqing could feel the emotions coming from the other end of the soul bond becoming increasingly vague and intermittent, like a radio station with poor reception. But whenever Snape's emotions became too intense, the barrier he was trying to erect would fluctuate violently, even backlashing with a severe headache.

He was using mental anguish to achieve emotional "privacy."

This almost self-abusive behavior made Lin Yanqing feel a sense of helplessness. He knew that forceful intervention would only be counterproductive.

A turning point came one Friday afternoon. While searching for reference books on Ancient Runes translation in the library, Lin Yanqing stumbled upon a thin, dragon-hide-bound notebook on the highest shelf of an obscure aisle. The notebook was unsigned, and it contained scattered observations and speculations about "Symbiotic Magic Contracts" written in an extremely ancient variant of runes. It happened to mention the cause of "emotional channels" and the theoretical possibility of "limited shielding."

This wasn't a method to break the contract, but more like a guide to managing it.

Lin Yanqing's heart stirred. He didn't take the notebook immediately but memorized its location. The next day, when Snape reappeared at his usual spot in the library, Lin Yanqing casually sat at a table near that obscure bookshelf and placed the dragon-hide notebook in a conspicuous spot.

He didn't need to hand it directly to Snape; that would only arouse deeper suspicion. He just needed to provide an opportunity for "discovery."

As expected, while Lin Yanqing pretended to leave to return other books, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye as Snape's gaze swept over the dragon-hide notebook several times. When he returned, the notebook was still in its place, but the tense, all-encompassing blockade that Snape had projected seemed to have loosened slightly.

A few days later, Lin Yanqing "passed by" that bookshelf again and found that the dragon-hide notebook was gone.

He didn't ask, and Snape made no comment. However, from then on, Lin Yanqing noticed that the feeling of forceful blockage had disappeared. Snape's emotions could once again be transmitted relatively clearly. But when he didn't want his emotions to be revealed, they became extremely "calm," like a windless lake—this was conscious control, not crude suppression.

He had learned to "manage," not "resist."

This was a small but significant improvement. He had accepted the fact that the contract couldn't be easily broken and had begun to try to coexist with it within his own boundaries.

However, just as Lin Yanqing thought the situation would slowly improve, the System issued a new task, one that was almost destined to shatter this hard-won, fragile peace.

[Ding! Long-term main quest issued: [The Beginning of Bonds]]

[Quest Description: Establish an initial, non-contractually enforced interactive relationship with Severus Snape. Current progress: 0/100.]

[Phase One Quest: [The Meaning of Sharing]]

[Quest Requirements: Successfully share a meal or drink with the bonded target, and ensure its acceptance.]

[Quest Reward: Bond Value +10, Special Reward [Memory Crystal (Blank)] x1.]

[Failure Penalty: None. (But Bond Value growth will stagnate) (????)]

Sharing... food?

Lin Yanqing looked at the quest requirements and felt a sense of absurdity. Snape, who was suspicious of even the potion ingredients provided by others, accepting food shared by him? The difficulty was comparable to making a troll do ballet.

But he had no choice. The System's quests were clearly directed, and if he wanted to advance their relationship, this seemingly childish interaction seemed to be a necessary step.

He began observing Snape's eating habits. He noticed that Snape always arrived at the Great Hall either earliest or latest, chose the most inconspicuous seat, quickly finished his food, and rarely touched desserts. He seemed to tolerate mashed potatoes with gravy.

The spring sunlight gradually warmed, and students began to bask in the sun in Hogwarts' courtyards. One noon, Lin Yanqing sat under a beech tree in the courtyard with a History of Magic textbook. He saw Snape sitting alone on a stone bench not far away, a thick Potions book open before him, with a dry-looking sandwich wrapped in parchment by a house-elf beside him.

This was an opportunity.

Lin Yanqing took a deep breath, took out a piece of soft, delicious-looking oat cake wrapped in honey and nuts from his lunch basket (which contained some pastries and fruits he had exchanged from the kitchens with System gold coins that suited his taste better), and walked towards Snape.

He could feel Snape's emotions instantly shift from concentration to complete vigilance as he approached, like a startled hedgehog bristling with its quills.

Lin Yanqing stopped a few steps away, not getting too close. He held up the oat cake and said in as neutral a tone as possible, as if stating an objective fact:

"The kitchen just made it, it tastes pretty good. I got too much, do you want to try some?"

Snape looked up sharply, his dark eyes filled with undisguised astonishment and suspicion. He looked at the cake in Lin Yanqing's hand, then at Lin Yanqing's face, as if deciphering an extremely complex dark magic symbol. His lips were pressed tightly together, showing no intention of taking it, and the aura of rejection emanating from him was almost tangible.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows between them. The air was filled with the scent of grass and a silent standoff.

Sharing, this most basic of childhood behaviors, seemed to possess an insurmountable chasm between them.