Spinner's End Natsuhi Echoes

The air in London during summer was vastly different from the coolness of Hogwarts Castle, carrying a sticky scent mixed with car exhaust and city dust. Lin Yanqing was settled into an apartment left vacant by a distant relative (a background identity arranged by the System); it was quiet, tidy, and... incredibly lonely.

He used this place as a temporary base, dedicating most of his time to two things: one, delving deep into the study of the [Beginner Legilimency] skill book, and two, cautiously gathering basic potion ingredients through limited channels, just in case of "emergencies." The magic power within him felt dormant in the Muggle world, but the soul bond connecting him to a distant place was like a constantly charged circuit, reminding him of the existence of another world.

For the first few weeks, the end of Spinner's End was unusually "quiet." It wasn't that no emotions were being transmitted, but rather those emotions... were like a stagnant pool, deliberately muddied and then forcefully suppressed. Through the Contract, Lin Yanqing could continuously sense a low, almost background-noise level of gloom and oppression, occasionally interrupted by sharp fluctuations filled with hatred, but quickly pushed down again by an even stronger will.

Snape was enduring. Enduring everything that came with the place he called "home."

One late night in mid-July, Lin Yanqing was attempting to construct a mental barrier for Legilimency during meditation when an unprecedented, violent emotional surge slammed into him through the Contract like a tsunami!

It wasn't simple anger or gloom, but... fear. The genuine fear of a twelve-year-old boy, a mixture of physical pain, extreme humiliation, and rage on the verge of losing control!

Immediately following, a powerful, uncontrolled surge of magic power followed, as if a storm was brewing at its center!

Lin Yanqing jolted awake from his meditation, his heart pounding. He understood almost instantly—something had happened at Spinner's End! Snape was in real trouble, likely related to his Muggle father, and his magic power was on the verge of going berserk!

"Host! Detected drastic fluctuations in bound target's vital signs! High risk of magic power loss of control! (;?Д?i|!)" System Cub issued a sharp alarm.

Almost simultaneously with the System's alarm, Lin Yanqing felt the hand holding his wand being "guided" again by that familiar, cold, and precise power! But unlike the clear single-word commands in the Forbidden Forest last time, this time it was a stream of extremely chaotic, yet strongly directional, thought fragments—"Book... Potion... Sedative..."

In his confused state, Snape instinctively sent a distress signal through the Contract to the only "resource" he could possibly rely on and the only one who would know what to do—he needed the Potions Book, or directly, a sedative potion!

Lin Yanqing didn't hesitate for a moment. He rushed to his desk, where a small cloth bag, expanded with the Undetectable Extension Charm, lay. He had prepared it before the holiday break, containing some basic, durable potion ingredients and some of his hastily copied common potion recipes. He quickly found a few sprigs of dried lavender with calming effects, a small piece of valerian root, and the page of his notes detailing the simplest sedative potion recipe.

But how could he send it over?

Just as he was in despair, the force guiding his hand reappeared, this time pointing to the empty ceramic vase on his desk, used for practicing Transfiguration. At the same time, a fainter thought, as if squeezed out with all his remaining strength, came through: "...Accio... mark..."

Accio? Mark?

Lin Yanqing's heart leaped with inspiration. He immediately picked up the recipe page and ingredients, stuffing them into a small cloth bag. Then, he raised his wand, pointed it at the ceramic vase, concentrated all his will, imagining Snape's location and the "mark" he needed to send to—

"Accio!"

He didn't know if he could succeed. This was a variant application of a summoning spell over a long distance with an unclear target, completely beyond the capabilities of a first-year student. But the moment he uttered the spell, he felt his magic power wasn't being emitted in isolation; it was greatly amplified and guided by the Contractual bond! His own magic power and Snape's chaotic but powerful magic resonated strangely in the void!

"Whoosh—"

The small cloth bag in his hand vanished instantly.

Almost at the same time, the magic power fluctuations from Spinner's End, which had been on the verge of exploding, seemed to have a hole poked in them. They began to slowly, laboriously subside. The intense fear and humiliation hadn't disappeared, but the destructive rage mixed within them was gradually replaced by a deep, cold stillness.

He had received it. And, using what was sent, he had temporarily stabilized the situation.

Lin Yanqing collapsed onto the floor, utterly drained, cold sweat soaking his back. In that moment, he felt as if his magic power had been completely drained. Long-distance magical transmission, especially forced transmission through a Contractual channel, consumed a massive amount of energy.

In the following days, Spinner's End fell into an unsettling silence. It was no longer oppression, but a void that seemed to have had all life force drained from it. Lin Yanqing could feel Snape was still "there," but his emotional signals were as weak as a candle flame in the wind.

Until a week later, an extremely faint, probing magical fluctuation gently touched the Contractual bond, like a tentative test.

Lin Yanqing sensed it immediately. He didn't respond with emotions, but instead attempted to calmly transmit the "feeling" of having just successfully constructed a thin mental barrier.

This was a silent communication. He was telling the other party: I have mastered defense, and I will not pry carelessly.

The magical fluctuation on the other side paused for a moment, then slowly withdrew, returning to silence.

But this brief contact was profoundly significant. It was Snape's first "test" of this channel after the crisis. He hadn't sent a note or issued a command, merely confirmed that the connection still existed and... confirmed that Lin Yanqing seemed to possess a basic sense of "boundaries."

The days of August flowed by in a cautious, mutually undisturbed tranquility. Lin Yanqing's Legilimency grew more proficient daily. Although far from reaching an advanced level, it was enough to ensure his core thoughts wouldn't be easily perceived. He also began to preview the second-year Charms textbook and continued to use the System's limited functions to gather information.

A week before the end of the summer holidays, while cleaning the apartment, Lin Yanqing found a small package inexplicably placed under the doormat—there was no sign of an owl delivery; it seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

The package was wrapped in ordinary brown paper. There were no written words inside, only a small bottle of... extremely high-quality Bezoar. It was precisely the best-quality one that had been missing from the material pack he had prepared earlier.

Lin Yanqing picked up the bottle of Bezoar. The glass still carried a faint, chilling scent of an underground cellar. He understood immediately.

This wasn't gratitude. The word "gratitude" would never appear in Severus Snape's vocabulary.

This was a "settlement." A cold, equivalent exchange for the "necessary" assistance during the summer holiday. He had received the recipe and materials (albeit basic ones) from Lin Yanqing, and now, he was reciprocating with a finished product of higher value.

In this way, he maintained the "transactional" relationship that he unilaterally defined, owing nothing.

Lin Yanqing silently put away the bottle of Bezoar.

He knew that when the Hogwarts Express set off again, their relationship would enter a new academic year, carrying the complex and cold imprint left by this summer. The boy hiding in the shadows of Spinner's End might have become more withdrawn, but he also understood more clearly that this bond he detested might, in desperate times... truly become a lifeline.

No matter how unwilling he was to admit it.