The Halloween feast was so lively it seemed ready to blow the roof off Hogwarts. Thousands of bats fluttered along the walls and ceiling of the Great Hall, while low-hanging clouds drifted between the tables, flashing like lightning-lit jack-o'-lanterns. The long tables were piled high with an array of food, and the air was thick with the cloying sweetness of roasted pumpkin, honey pies, and candy.
Laughter and chatter filled the Ravenclaw table. Lin Yanqing sat among them, his golden plate laden with food, but he ate very little. The emotions coming through the other end of the bond were like a string drawn taut, utterly out of place amid the surrounding cheer. Snape sat alone at the far end of the Slytherin table, his back ramrod straight, with only a glass of water before him. He seemed surrounded by an invisible barrier that shut out all noise and merriment. Occasionally, a Slytherin student tried to speak to him, only to be driven back by a cold look.
Lin Yanqing could sense that it was more than Snape's usual gloom. It was a state of complete vigilance, like a predator lying dormant in the shadows of the jungle, waiting for an attack that could come at any moment.
Sure enough, halfway through the feast, just as headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet and cheerfully announced that everyone could begin enjoying the specially prepared "screaming" skull-shaped pudding, something happened.
A deliberately subdued snicker, loud enough for several nearby tables to hear, came from the Gryffindor table. It was Sirius Black, lounging lazily against the back of his chair, turning a goblet in his hand as his gaze flicked meaningfully toward the far end of the Slytherin table.
"I hear some people," he said, his voice not particularly loud amid the din but unmistakably malicious, "can only spend Halloween with cauldrons and certain... things that prefer to stay out of sight. Fitting for the occasion, isn't it?"
James Potter immediately burst into exaggerated laughter and played along. "Exactly! After all, bats and creatures from the gutter love dark holidays like this most."
They did not name anyone, but everyone who knew the situation instinctively turned to look at Snape.
Lin Yanqing felt the emotions from the other end of the bond instantly freeze into ice. The sharp fury beneath nearly pierced through that cold disguise. He saw Snape's fingers tighten abruptly around his glass, his knuckles turning white, yet Snape did not turn around. Even the angle of his shoulders did not shift in the slightest. He merely straightened his back further, like an aristocrat who would refuse to bow even on the way to the executioner's block.
That dismissive attitude clearly angered the Marauders. A flash of offended irritation crossed James's eyes, and the hand beneath the table seemed to move almost imperceptibly.
The next second, the glass of water before Snape began boiling without warning. Scalding steam hissed as water splashed out, nearly burning his hand.
A petty, hard-to-prove, yet deeply insulting little hex.
The entire Slytherin table fell silent for a moment, then several muffled, gleeful snickers broke out. No one stepped forward to speak for Snape.
Snape slowly, agonizingly slowly, set down his glass. He still did not look toward the Gryffindor table, but the chill radiating from him made the nearest few first-year Slytherins instinctively shrink back.
At that tense moment, Lin Yanqing rose with his pumpkin juice in hand and casually headed toward the other end of the Ravenclaw table, as though he were going to speak with friends. Yet as he passed near the teachers' table, his steps paused almost imperceptibly. His arm seemed to be accidentally bumped by a passing Hufflepuff student, and his full cup of pumpkin juice "accidentally" spilled directly over the corner of the Invisibility Cloak James Potter had placed at the edge of the bench.
The deep orange juice quickly spread across the seemingly empty bench, outlining the shape of a transparent object as it dripped steadily onto the floor.
"Oh! Merlin's beard! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Lin Yanqing immediately said in a tone mixing panic and apology, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, just enough to draw the attention of several nearby professors and students.
Professor McGonagall frowned and looked over. James and Sirius's expressions immediately turned ugly. They had clearly not expected the Invisibility Cloak they had carefully prepared for later mischief to be exposed this way, much less drenched in sticky pumpkin juice.
Snape still had his back to it all, but Lin Yanqing clearly felt the icebound rage at the other end of the bond stir ever so slightly, like a small stone dropped into a frozen lake. Its sharp edges seemed, briefly, to have been worn down a little. Snape gave no sign of it and did not even turn around to glance at the accidental commotion, but the crushing sense of isolation that had nearly swallowed him weakened.
The latter half of the feast passed in a delicate balance. Because of the unexpected exposure of the Invisibility Cloak and the professors' watchful eyes, the Marauders temporarily reined themselves in. Snape maintained his frozen posture until the feast ended.
The crowd began to disperse, streaming noisily toward the doors of the Great Hall. Lin Yanqing blended into the flow of Ravenclaws and moved with the crowd. As he passed the troll statue in the entrance hall, he felt his sleeve yanked sharply and forcefully.
The pull was strong and carried an unmistakable command, then it released him at once.
Lin Yanqing did not stop walking, nor did he turn to search for the owner of that hand. Using the crowd as cover, he subtly changed direction. Rather than heading straight back to Ravenclaw Tower, he circled toward another corridor leading to the library.
At the corner of a deserted corridor, Snape waited in the shadows like a statue carved from stone.
There was no eye contact, no conversation.
When Lin Yanqing approached, Snape turned directly and strode forward. Lin Yanqing followed in silent understanding, half a step behind him.
They walked one before the other through the silent castle and returned once more to the tapestry on the Seventh Floor. The Room of Requirement appeared as promised.
Tonight's laboratory was even messier than before, yet it also felt more lived-in. Apart from the dangerous instruments and materials, there was now a small table in the corner with several open, heavily worn ancient books and two clean cups on it.
Snape went straight to the workbench and began inspecting the potion sealed away the previous night. Lin Yanqing naturally walked over to the small table and discovered that one of the cups still held a little warm, dark brown liquid—black tea. He picked up the cup, felt the lingering warmth beneath his fingertips, and paused slightly.
With his back to him, Snape spoke in a stiff voice, as though explaining himself or talking to no one in particular. "For staying alert. We need to complete the 'Moonlight Extraction' tonight."
Lin Yanqing gave a quiet hum, asked no questions, set down the cup, and went to his usual supporting position to begin preparing the materials needed for the night.
Work began again. There was still silence, broken only by the sounds of instruments running and ingredients being processed. Yet the atmosphere was utterly different from the night before. The caution and tension of their first collaboration were gone, replaced by a... nearly stifling tacit understanding. It was as though the silent confrontation in the Great Hall, along with this lingering cup of tea—whether deliberately prepared or carelessly left behind—had already completed an exchange that required no words.
They were the only allies on a battlefield shrouded in gunpowder smoke. In the cold laboratory, that realization felt more real than any Halloween candy.
It was not until late at night that their work paused for the time being. When they left the Room of Requirement, Snape still walked ahead. At a fork in the corridor, he stopped. This time, he did not leave immediately. Instead, he turned half his face, his features appearing especially sharp in the dim torchlight.
"Lupin," he suddenly said, his voice low and certain. "He has looked terrible lately."
Lin Yanqing's heart skipped a beat. Remus Lupin, one of the Marauders, was also the one who needed the Wolfsbane Potion. Snape had clearly expanded his target of observation from a mere enemy to a "case" directly related to his research. This was not only about revenge; it was driven by a researcher's instinct.
"The full moon is close," Lin Yanqing replied softly. It was a statement.
The corner of Snape's mouth curved into a nearly cruel arc without a trace of warmth.
"Good," he murmured, as though speaking to Lin Yanqing and to himself at once. "The time to test the results is almost here."
With that, his figure disappeared once more into the shadows of the dungeons.
Lin Yanqing remained where he was, turning Snape's final words over in his mind. They contained not merely academic anticipation, but also the cold excitement of someone about to seize an opponent's fatal weakness.
Halloween's sugar coating had long since faded. Within the castle's cold stone walls, the scent of real gunpowder smoke was growing ever stronger.
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