The Hogwarts Express once again carried the students back to their respective worlds. Unlike last year, Lin Yanqing could clearly sense that the presence connected to the other end of the soul bond had not entirely sunk into cold, deathly silence as the train headed toward London. It was a more complex state, mixed with habitual gloom, disgust toward Spinner's End, and a faint... almost imperceptible sense of confidence born from possessing some constant "connection."
Back in the quiet Muggle apartment, Lin Yanqing immediately threw himself into two tasks: first, continuing to deepen his Legilimency training, striving to protect his core secrets from any deeper exploration of the contract Snape might undertake; second, using the system's functions and limited channels to more systematically gather and stockpile all kinds of magical materials, especially obscure, dangerous, or difficult-to-obtain varieties. He had a premonition that this summer, that connection would very likely be "activated" again.
For the first few days, the "signal" from Spinner's End was exceptionally faint, as though Snape were using all his strength to seal himself off in order to adapt to that suffocating environment. Yet the undertone of suppression and endurance, like an endless low growl, continued to travel through the contract.
One sweltering night in early July, a change appeared.
It was not a crisis, but a... sustained, intensely focused state of research. Snape's emotions became extraordinarily "singular" and "sharp," filled with deductions, calculations, and the occasional faint spark of inspiration. He was clearly devoting himself, body and soul, in that cramped room at Spinner's End to an in-depth study of soul contracts, or related fields of magic.
Lin Yanqing could often sense fragmented thoughts coming through—about the shaping effect of Ancient Runes on magical channels, the conversion efficiency between emotional energy and Protective Magic, and even dangerous conjectures involving forbidden realms of soul magic. Snape was like a plant madly drawing nourishment from a dark corner, taking root in the abyss of knowledge at all costs.
This state continued for nearly two weeks. Lin Yanqing did not disturb him. He merely served silently as a passive "observer" and "recorder," occasionally sending anonymous owl post to Spinner's End with relevant reference materials outside the Restricted Section, based on the direction of Snape's research. The sender information had been obscured.
However, delving too deeply into forbidden knowledge often came with risks.
On a stormy night in mid-July, Lin Yanqing was jolted awake from sleep by the system's piercing alarm and a violent spasm of magic from the other end of the contract!
This time, it was not an external attack, but research backlash!
Snape seemed to have suffered a double backlash from his own magic and the contract's power while attempting an extremely dangerous magical configuration involving the forced simulation of severing a soul link! Through the contract, Lin Yanqing felt that what came from the other side was no longer mere pain, but extreme chaos and terror on the verge of collapse, as though an invisible force were tearing Snape's soul apart while his magic rampaged through his body!
He could even vaguely "see" fragments of illusions—overturned instruments, strange flickering light, and Snape's pale, twisted face, his black eyes filled with shock and unwillingness.
"Host! The bound target's soul stability is plummeting! Magical core overloaded! (;?Д?i|!)" System Cub's voice carried unprecedented panic.
He could not send supplies remotely; that would not solve the root problem! He needed a more direct intervention!
Lin Yanqing abruptly sat up in bed, forcing himself to calm down. He recalled the research insights Snape had previously shared regarding the contract's emotional channels and the flow of magic. Among them was an extraordinarily bold hypothesis—in extreme circumstances, strengthening positive emotional connections might temporarily "reinforce" the soul bond and resist tearing forces.
It was an unproven theory, and the risks were enormous. But he had no other choice.
Lin Yanqing closed his eyes. Rather than trying to convey "calm" or "order," he began recalling, gathering, and amplifying with all his strength those... not-negative moments of connection between himself and Snape.
—That trace of cold acknowledgment after their successful cooperation in Potions class.
—The brief tacit understanding when they precisely coordinated to resolve a crisis in Care of Magical Creatures.
—The pure resonance of reason when they silently exchanged research insights in the library.
—Even that nearly imperceptible sense of relief that had passed through him when the other had put on that winter robe.
—And the complicated feelings whenever he received those cold "return gifts" and understood the meaning behind them...
He took these subtle, cold, yet undeniably real "feelings of connection," discarded all sympathy and pity, and regarded them purely as objective "facts." Then, through the contract channel, he steadily and continuously sent them toward the center of that storm of chaos and tearing, as though weaving a tough, invisible net!
This was not warm emotional support. It was cold factual anchoring based on shared experiences! It told the other person: this bond existed because of these established facts. It was resilient enough to withstand temporary tearing!
The process was far more difficult and dangerous than he had imagined. Lin Yanqing felt his mental strength pouring out like floodwaters through opened gates. The barrier of his Legilimency fluctuated violently under the pull of two forces, as though it might shatter at any moment. He could feel Snape's instinctive resistance from the other side, but the tearing pain was clearly worse. In the end, Snape, caught in the storm, struggled to accept part of that external anchoring force based on facts as though grasping at a lifeline.
The chaotic magic seemed to find a temporary, stable point of support and began slowly, painfully returning to control. The terror of having his soul torn apart gradually receded, replaced by an extreme weakness and exhaustion like that of someone who had narrowly survived disaster.
The storm subsided.
Lin Yanqing was nearly spent. Sweat had soaked through his pajamas, and he felt as though he had just run a marathon. He could sense that Snape at Spinner's End was in equally terrible condition, perhaps even worse, as though he lacked the strength to lift a finger.
For the next two days, both ends of the bond were unusually "quiet." Both of them seemed to have exhausted their minds and strength in that sudden crisis and needed time to recover.
Afterward, the state of research coming from Snape's side changed subtly. It was no longer so aggressive and risky, but became more... cautious and precise. He seemed to be reassessing and planning his research path, incorporating Lin Yanqing's successful "factual anchoring" intervention as an important data point in his considerations.
In early August, Lin Yanqing received a package from Spinner's End. This time, it had not been delivered by owl, but had appeared beneath his doormat out of thin air, just as it had last year.
There were no potions or materials in the package. There were only several sheets of parchment densely covered in complex calculations and magical structural diagrams. They were Snape's theoretical analysis and effectiveness assessment of that "factual anchoring" intervention, written in cold, objective language, as though he were drafting an academic paper. Yet at the end of the report, in handwriting slightly heavier than the rest, he had added one small line:
"Anchor effective. Response mechanism requires optimization."
Lin Yanqing stared at that line for a long time in silence.
"Anchor." He had become a confirmed, effective "anchor" for Snape as he explored the dangerous abyss of magic.
"Response mechanism requires optimization." This meant Snape had not only accepted his intervention, but had even begun considering how to make it more efficient and systematic. He had formally incorporated Lin Yanqing into his "safe research system."
This was not emotional closeness. It was an upgrade in survival strategy.
He carefully put away the parchment. The breath of summer drifted in through the window, carrying the clamor of the Muggle city. And in two corners of the magical world, two boys were continuously redefining each other's place in the other's life through crisis and exploration, in their own unique way.
That summer, the undercurrents still surged, but that distant "anchor" had already taken firm root.
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