Hogwarts' school year drew to a close like the last rain before a Scottish summer, the air thick with tension and restlessness. OWLs and NEWTs examination week began first, and the older students hurried about with dark circles from sleepless nights beneath their eyes. Though the lower years—especially first-years like Lin Yanqing and Snape—had no major examinations, the professors still assigned heavy final essays and classroom tests. The atmosphere of study throughout the castle suddenly intensified.
The library became the most sought-after place. Lin Yanqing still chose his usual quiet spot near the entrance to the Restricted Section. Snape still appeared in his old corner as well, but unlike before, he seemed to have built an even thicker, colder mental barrier around himself. Ever since the note incident in History of Magic, he appeared to be doing everything he could to seal off his thoughts. Whenever Lin Yanqing inadvertently sensed him through the contract, all that came from the other end was a deliberately maintained, almost hollow calm, like the surface of a lake forcibly frozen over.
He was on guard. Guarding against that all-pervasive bond prying into his thoughts again.
Yet the contract's power was not merely a means of stealing thoughts. Under the pressure of finals, another, more difficult-to-control effect began to emerge.
It happened during the final quiz in Charms class. Professor Flitwick asked them to demonstrate, before the class, the spell they believed they had mastered best that term. When it was Lin Yanqing's turn, he chose the Mending Charm. He focused, raised his wand, and aimed it at the cracked teacup before him.
Just as the spell was about to succeed, a sudden, intense surge of anxiety pierced his consciousness like an ice pick—not his own, but clearly Snape's, transmitted through the contract from the other side of the classroom, where he was preparing for his test.
Snape seemed insufficiently confident about some detail of a Transfiguration spell—something exceedingly rare for him. Though he maintained his composure on the surface, the faint anxiety buried deep inside him, unnoticed by anyone else, was precisely caught and magnified by the contract before being passed to Lin Yanqing.
Lin Yanqing's wrist trembled almost imperceptibly, and the steady glow at his wand tip flickered. The teacup before him gave a soft sizzle. The crack healed, but a faint white mark shaped like lightning remained on its side.
"Oh... very close, Mr. Lin." Professor Flitwick pushed up his glasses with some regret. "Your magical output fluctuated slightly at the very end, affecting the perfect repair. One point from Ravenclaw, for insufficient stability."
Lin Yanqing lowered his head in silence. He could feel Snape's anxiety, and in the instant Lin Yanqing failed, it mingled with a faint, almost gloating relief—only to be replaced at once by deeper irritation. Snape had probably realized that Lin Yanqing's mistake was connected to his own emotions.
This had not been Snape's intention. He might not even have noticed that momentary leak of emotion or its effect. But the incident made one thing clear: under pressure, the bond between them had become more like a two-way conduit for emotions. A fluctuation on one side would inevitably interfere with the other.
Over the following days, similar incidents occurred from time to time. Sometimes, while writing a History of Magic essay, Lin Yanqing was interrupted by Snape's overwhelming frustration after getting stuck on a complex potion-making step; at other times, during Potions class, Snape became inexplicably more sullen because of the brief pleasure Lin Yanqing felt after completing a system task.
They were like two divers tied together. When one person's breathing became unsteady, it disrupted the other's oxygen supply.
This forced and unwelcome sharing of emotions exhausted them both. The low pressure around Snape nearly became tangible, while Lin Yanqing learned to immediately begin basic Legilimency practice whenever he sensed a strong negative emotion from Snape. He had picked up only the barest fundamentals from that dragon-hide notebook, but he still tried to build some pitiful degree of defense.
A week before the end of term, each house announced its House Cup points. Gryffindor had lost quite a few points because of a series of "great feats" by the Weasley brothers—though given the timeline, they should have been older members of the Weasley family—while Slytherin once again claimed the House Cup through its Quidditch victory and the outstanding classroom performance of Snape and the others.
At the end-of-year feast, the Slytherin table erupted in cheers amid silver and green. Snape sat among the crowd, still utterly out of place. He did not celebrate excitedly like the others, merely lowered his head slightly, with what seemed to be an almost imperceptible, mocking curve at the corner of his mouth. Lin Yanqing could sense that Snape cared little for the House Cup itself. That trace of amusement was more likely directed at Gryffindor's defeat—especially James Potter's.
After the feast, the students began packing their luggage one after another, preparing to take the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross Station the next day.
While clearing out his cabinet, Lin Yanqing found a roll of parchment in a corner where miscellaneous items were stored, pinned beneath a potion cork. It was so inconspicuous that it almost escaped notice. His heart stirred, and he picked it up and unrolled it.
There was no salutation and no signature, only a single line. The writing had been pressed harder than ever before, as though it carried some restrained resolve:
"Keep in touch. If necessary."
Lin Yanqing held the note in silence for a long time.
This was by no means an expression of friendship, nor could it even be called an invitation to cooperate. It was more like a cold notice, a statement of a summer "contingency plan" based entirely on pragmatism. "Keep in touch" meant that he might continue serving as a supplier of potion ingredients or a source of information; "if necessary" established a clear boundary—this connection would only be used when Snape considered it necessary.
Snape had acknowledged the practical value of their bond and unilaterally defined the rules for using it.
Lin Yanqing held the note to a candle and watched it turn to ash.
He understood that, for Severus Snape, this was already the closest thing he could manage to an attempt at "maintaining a relationship." He hated the bond, but he hated losing control even more. In the coming, unpredictable summer—especially when returning to the unpleasant Spinner's End—keeping a potentially useful "tool" suited his logic of survival.
The Hogwarts Express once again traveled back toward London. The carriage was filled with students noisily discussing their holiday plans. Lin Yanqing sat alone in a compartment, watching the scenery race past outside the window.
He could vaguely sense that the presence connected to the other end of the soul bond was, as the train headed south, gradually sinking into a familiar abyss of gloom and vigilance. That was the aura of Spinner's End.
The first school year came to an end amid contradictions, probing, danger, and a relationship held together by the faintest thread of cold pragmatism.
"The main storyline of the first school year has concluded. Calculating rewards..." "Contract Stability: 65%" "Bond Value: 5/100" "Title obtained: [Resilient Bond Maintainer]" "Rewards issued: System Points x1000, [Beginner Legilimency] skill book x1."
The system notification rang in his mind.
Lin Yanqing leaned against the window and closed his eyes. He knew summer would not be a rest, but another battlefield. He needed to master Legilimency, deal with possible contact from Snape based on "necessity," and also... prepare for the inevitably more complicated situation of the second school year.
The train thundered onward, carrying secrets, magic, and two souls forced together toward an unknown summer.
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