The Hogwarts Express steamed through September once more, carrying excited students toward that dreamlike castle. Lin Yanqing sat in his compartment, watching the increasingly desolate yet magnificent landscape outside. His state of mind was completely different from a year ago. He was no longer a bewildered transmigrator; he had a clear goal—survive, and handle his complicated relationship with that Slytherin.
He could clearly sense that the presence at the other end of the soul bond carried a deeper, colder emotional undercurrent than it had at the end of term, as though the shadows of Spinner's End had thoroughly seeped into his bones. Yet beneath that frigid stagnant water, there seemed to be something exceedingly subtle... something unlike pure rejection. Perhaps it was an unwilling acknowledgment of the "practicality" that bond had displayed in desperate circumstances.
Returning to the castle, everything felt both familiar and fresh. The Great Hall ceiling still changed with the weather, and the four long tables were packed with chattering students. At the Sorting Ceremony, another group of nervous first-years put on the battered Sorting Hat.
Lin Yanqing spotted familiar classmates at the Ravenclaw table, and they greeted one another amicably. His gaze happened to sweep across the Slytherin table. Snape still sat at the most inconspicuous end, head lowered, a cup of water before him, deaf to the surrounding clamor like a black reef that automatically shut out every sound wave.
The new school year's classes began. Second-year Charms was noticeably more advanced, and Professor Flitwick began teaching them more aggressive and practical spells, such as the Leg-Locker Curse and the Fire-Making Spell. In Potions class, Professor Slughorn enthusiastically announced that they would begin learning to brew several common antidotes that term.
"Of course, children," he said with a beaming smile, his large belly thrust forward, "to deal with more complex toxins, we need more precise cutting and steadier heat. Take Billywig Worm stingers, for example—the fineness of the powder directly affects..."
Just then, Lin Yanqing felt an exceptionally fleeting gaze settle on him. He looked up and caught Snape quickly looking away. Snape was lowering his head over some roots he was grinding, every movement meticulous.
Something stirred in Lin Yanqing's heart. He was almost certain that Snape's glance had been connected to the high-quality essence of dittany Snape had given him in return. He had not used the essence yet and had kept it safely stored away. Was Snape checking whether the "goods" had been properly kept? Or was it... an unconscious, implicit concern over the completion of that "transaction"?
That attention was not goodwill. It was more like confirmation of an "ownership" or a "completed matter."
A few days later, on a cool morning, Lin Yanqing habitually went to the library before breakfast in the Great Hall to return a copy of Intermediate Potion Theory he had borrowed the previous night. The early-morning library was empty and quiet, with only the faint sounds of Madam Pince arranging bookshelves.
At his usual seat near the Restricted Section, he saw something that should not have been there.
A palm-sized parcel, simply wrapped in clean brown paper, lay quietly in the middle of the tabletop.
There was no signature and no note.
Lin Yanqing's heart gave a small jump. He stepped forward but did not touch it immediately. Instead, he first examined it with Magical Perception—there were no curses or dangerous magical traces on the parcel, only an extremely faint, cold residue of Snape's magic, as though it had accidentally rubbed off while he was handling it.
He carefully opened the brown paper.
Inside were two oatcakes that looked exceedingly plain, even somewhat dry and hard. Completely unlike the soft honey cake he had once tried to share, these oatcakes looked... ordinary, easy to store, and more like emergency rations.
Lin Yanqing froze.
This was not a return gift. The return gift had already been completed through the essence of dittany during the summer holiday.
It was even less likely to be a gesture of friendship.
Then what was it?
He picked up one oatcake and examined it carefully. Apart from the grainy scent of oats, there was nothing unusual. After a moment's hesitation, he gently broke off a small piece and put it into his mouth.
The taste... was mediocre, even somewhat rough. It carried the pure, minimally processed flavor of grain, along with an extremely faint, chilly scent reminiscent of a basement and old parchment, perhaps picked up during storage.
The scent of Spinner's End.
In an instant, Lin Yanqing understood.
This was not sharing. Perhaps it was a... test. A more covert probe based on the successful transfer of supplies during the summer holiday.
Snape was using his own method to confirm the stability and "logistical" capacity of this connected channel under ordinary conditions. He had chosen the most inconspicuous item, the least likely to invite associations, and one that best suited his own circumstances—cheap, readily available, and easy to store. He was confirming whether this "exchange" could still be carried out silently even outside of a crisis.
He was expanding the possible uses of this "utilitarian" bond.
Lin Yanqing silently wrapped the remaining oatcakes back up and slipped them into his robe pocket. He neither ate them nor threw them away. He regarded them as a "signal," a cold milestone marking the entry of their twisted relationship into a new stage.
Later that day, before Potions class began, Lin Yanqing arrived early. He saw that Snape was already seated in his usual place. As Lin Yanqing passed him, there was no exchange of glances and no pause. He simply let a small cloth pouch he had prepared earlier, containing several basic potion ingredients Snape commonly used—including Dried Billywig Worm Stinger Powder—slip from his sleeve and drop precisely beneath Snape's workbench, into an easily overlooked shadowed corner.
It was a response. It indicated that he had received the "signal" and was willing to continue this "transaction" within the rules the other had established.
After doing all that, he went to his own workbench and began preparing.
A few minutes later, he heard an almost imperceptible sound of cloth brushing against the floor behind him. Snape bent down and picked up the little pouch, moving so quickly it was like an illusion, drawing no one's attention.
Throughout the entire process, neither of them looked at the other or spoke a word.
Yet a new, stranger kind of "understanding" took shape amid the cold silence.
It had nothing to do with feelings, or even trust.
It concerned only utility—a twisted yet genuinely workable way of coexistence that two boys forcibly bound together by fate had found for themselves in a world full of thorns.
Lin Yanqing knew that the story of second year would slowly unfold through these silent "exchanges of supplies" and deeper emotional entanglements. And the increasingly undisguised scrutinizing looks cast by the Marauders served as a reminder that this cold "peace" might be shattered at any moment.
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