Resonating Ripples

After Sirius's warning, Lin Yanqing could more clearly feel the subtle, scrutinizing gazes from the direction of the Marauders whenever he moved around the castle. James Potter's eyes held a more undisguised curiosity and a hint of offended displeasure—as if Lin Yanqing approaching Snape was an invasion of some intangible territory of their Gryffindor clique. As for Snape, he seemed to have completely shut off his external senses, becoming even more gloomy and silent not just towards Lin Yanqing, but seemingly towards everyone, like a bottomless pool of black water that refused any light.

However, the existence of the soul contract greatly diminished the effect of this deliberate "isolation" in front of Lin Yanqing. He could clearly sense the restless undercurrent beneath Snape's calm surface. This restlessness wasn't due to the Marauders' attention, but more like... a stifled frustration from an inability to satisfy his desire to study and control an unknown power. He was like a child who had received a novel toy but couldn't find the instruction manual, except this "toy" was an ancient contract connecting two souls.

This state lasted for about a week. During this time, there were no more instances of needing "supplies" in Potions class, and Snape didn't leave any new notes. The two seemed to have returned to the pure, hostile stalemate from the beginning of the semester, yet it was different—the bond had now become more flexible and... sensitive.

The change occurred on a Wednesday afternoon, during History of Magic class.

Professor Binns droned on in his hypnotic tone about the tedious history of witch hunts in the Middle Ages. The warm spring sunlight outside and the stuffy air in the classroom made most students drowsy. Lin Yanqing forced himself to stay alert and take notes, trying to extract fragments of information from Professor Binns's monotonous narration that might be useful for understanding the history of magical contracts.

Suddenly, an extremely faint but exceptionally clear desire for knowledge, like a small pebble dropped into still water, traveled through the soul bond from the other end.

It wasn't about the content of History of Magic, but a more specific doubt regarding the magical structure of Ancient Runes syllables.

Lin Yanqing's pen paused, and he subconsciously looked up towards the area where the Slytherin students sat. Snape wasn't paying attention to the lecture. He had his head down, and in front of him was not a History of Magic textbook, but a thick, black leather notebook with heavily worn edges (likely contraband he'd gotten from the Restricted Section). His quill was rapidly scribbling calculations in the corner of the notebook, his brow furrowed.

That clear desire for knowledge originated from a bottleneck he encountered in his calculations.

Lin Yanqing himself only had a superficial understanding of Ancient Runes, far from mastery. But by coincidence, just a few days prior, while working on a paper about ancient magical rituals, he had happened to read a notebook left by a Ravenclaw senior, which coincidentally mentioned a similar, obscure theory about how specific syllable combinations could slightly influence the flow of magic.

It felt very strange. He wasn't actively prying, but Snape's overly focused and intense mental activity, like an over-amplified broadcast signal, was clearly captured and transmitted by the contract.

Lin Yanqing hesitated. Offer help proactively? That would definitely provoke a strong backlash. But... what if he just...

He lowered his head, picked up his quill again, and without looking in Snape's direction, simply wrote the name and key points of that obscure theory in extremely small font in the blank space of his own History of Magic notes. Then, he gently tore off that small corner of paper.

Next, he needed to wait for an opportunity.

The chance came during the break. Professor Binns had, unusually, stopped, allowing the students a brief respite. Students began to move around, and low conversations filled the classroom. Snape remained buried in his notebook, oblivious to the surrounding noise.

Lin Yanqing stood up, pretending to go to the bookshelf to consult some references (there was a row of reference books behind the History of Magic classroom). He casually walked past Snape's seat, and in the moment their figures crossed, momentarily obscuring most of the view, he flicked the small piece of paper, folded to be almost invisible, from his fingertips. It landed precisely next to Snape's open black notebook, blending in with the wooden grain of the desk.

His movements were natural and fluid, without any pause. He walked directly towards the bookshelf.

He could feel that after he passed, Snape's focused thinking abruptly stopped, replaced by a moment of alertness, followed by astonishment at discovering the foreign object on his desk.

Lin Yanqing casually picked a book from the bookshelf and pretended to read it, but observed with his peripheral vision. He saw Snape suddenly look up and scan his surroundings, his eyes sharp as a hawk, then fixate on the small piece of paper on the desk. He hesitated for a few seconds before picking it up with his fingertips, with extreme disgust, as if it were something dirty. He quickly unfolded it.

The next moment, a much more intense emotional wave washed over him—first disbelief and shock, followed by a sudden, clear realization, but all of it was ultimately drowned out by a surging, almost uncontrollable rage!

He knew! He knew who this information came from! The feeling of being seen through, of being "fed," especially when it happened while he was immersed in his most private research, made him feel unprecedented humiliation and loss of control!

Snape clenched his fist violently, the small note crumpling into a ball in his palm. His chest heaved, his face turned terrifyingly grim, and he abruptly turned his head, his gaze like icy arrows, shooting towards Lin Yanqing, who stood by the bookshelf.

Lin Yanqing calmly met his gaze, his face devoid of any expression, neither triumphant nor apologetic, as if the whole incident had nothing to do with him.

Their eyes met, and invisible sparks seemed to crackle in the air. Professor Binns's monotonous voice resuming the lecture couldn't dispel the frozen, volatile tension between them.

Snape glared at Lin Yanqing for a full ten seconds, the anger in his eyes almost spewing forth. Finally, as if expending all his strength to restrain himself, he abruptly turned his head, pouring all his fury onto the notebook before him. He forcefully crossed out the previous calculations and began to rewrite them with even greater speed and heavier strokes.

But Lin Yanqing could feel that the doubt that had been hindering him for so long had dissipated. He had obtained the "key" he needed, even though the method of delivery had sent him into a rage.

This incident brought no exchange of supplies, no direct dialogue, and was even filled with negative emotions. Yet, it revealed a deeper truth: the stabilized contract not only shared emotions but had also begun to vaguely share the focus of their thoughts.

For Snape, this was undoubtedly another heavy blow. His mind, his pride, his intellectual world, which he considered his last bastion, was also being slowly infiltrated by this invisible bond.

And for Lin Yanqing, it was also a warning. He had to control his thoughts more carefully, avoiding the accidental leakage of secrets that shouldn't be perceived by the other party (like the existence of the System).

The dismissal bell rang, and Snape was the first to rush out of the classroom, leaving behind a retreating figure shrouded in a low-pressure aura.

Lin Yanqing slowly closed the book in his hands and returned it to the bookshelf.

He knew that the silent war between them had spread to a new, more clandestine battlefield—the realm of thought. And next time, when Snape's mind encountered difficulties again, would he rather remain stuck, or would he... be forced to accept this unwelcome "revelation"?

"Detected a slight increase in contract connection depth. (⊙?⊙) Host, it seems like... you're starting to synchronize on a mental level too?" System Cub analyzed with a hint of confusion.

Lin Yanqing didn't answer. He just felt that the path to Severus Snape's inner solitary island was proving to be more bizarre and... omnipresent than he had imagined.