Snape's Patronage

The Quidditch Match victory was like a potent stimulant, plunging all of Gryffindor Tower into a sea of celebration.

The Weasley Twins hoisted Harry high above their heads, singing and dancing around him as if he were a hero. Ron, meanwhile, acted like the most devoted knight imaginable, vividly recounting to anyone who would listen how Harry had "swallowed" the Golden Snitch. Even Hermione, who was usually so composed, wore a radiant, heartfelt smile.

The excitement lasted all day, only gradually dying down the next morning under Professor McGonagall's stern gaze and the pressure of a heavy workload.

As for Lin Yuan, the clamor outside was no more than a gust of wind occasionally sweeping past his window.

His world was always that silent ocean surrounded by towering bookshelves and the scent of ancient ink—the library.

At that moment, he was sitting in a forgotten corner of the Forbidden Section.

It was an excellent spot, just out of the way of Madam Pince's ghostlike patrol route, while also allowing him to take in the energy fluctuations throughout the entire area.

Spread open before him was an evil tome whose cover was made from some kind of dried human skin, with a dim, lifelike eyeball set into its spine—Howl of the Soul and Blood Pact.

The book itself was a collection of malicious curses.

Ordinary wizards would be consumed by the lingering resentment within it just by touching it. At best, they would lose their minds; at worst, their magic would run wild. The pages turned of their own accord, whispering in a voice only souls could hear, full of pain and despair, trying to tempt and corrupt the minds of all who read them.

Yet this mental contamination, fatal to ordinary wizards, stirred not the slightest ripple in Lin Yuan's resilient soul.

The moment those malicious whispers came within three feet of him, an invisible field of will instantly purified and annihilated them, leaving not even a ripple behind.

He calmly turned the pages, his gaze passing over the twisted, evil Ancient Runes written in blood. His expression was as indifferent as if he were reading a grocery list.

"[Bloodline Curse]: A sustained, malignant curse that can be passed down through generations, cast using the target's blood or hair as a medium. At its core, it exploits the law of 'Causal Connection.' Hmm... this approach resembles the 'Bloodline Curse Killing Technique' of the cultivation world by about seventy percent, but its energy structure is far too unstable and easily backfires. An immature spell, high risk and low reward."

"[Soul Sacrifice Array]: By sacrificing the souls of numerous living beings, one can briefly communicate with an 'Otherworldly Being.' A crude lever meant to pry at power from a higher dimension. Unfortunately, they don't even know what they're communicating with. This isn't a transaction; it's inviting a wolf into the house."

Lin Yuan's fingertip glided lightly over a passage about "how to extend the duration of a curse."

His mind—or rather, his vast sea of consciousness—was reverse-engineering the underlying logic of these Dark Magic spells at a terrifying speed, breaking them down one by one, sorting them, and converting them into individual data points within his own system of knowledge.

Just then.

A cold, sinister presence, silent as a snake, appeared at the entrance to the Forbidden Section.

Lin Yuan didn't even look up. His soul had already sensed who had arrived.

Severus Snape.

The Potions Master moved among the shelves like a real ghost, dressed in a black robe that seemed to absorb all light.

His footsteps were too soft to hear, but each one seemed to lower the temperature of the surrounding air.

He didn't head straight for Lin Yuan. Instead, he first circled the Forbidden Section, his obsidian eyes sweeping over every shadow like searchlights, as though checking that no other rats had invaded his territory.

At last, he stopped behind Lin Yuan.

He said nothing, simply standing there as his gaze fell on the open, ominous tome before Lin Yuan: Howl of the Soul and Blood Pact.

The instant he read the title, even Snape's unfathomable eyes flashed with unconcealable shock.

This book...

Of course he knew it.

It was one of the most dangerous tomes in the Forbidden Section. Even as a student, he hadn't dared touch it lightly.

The curses attached to it were powerful enough to drive an adult wizard mad.

And this boy... this eleven-year-old first-year Gryffindor was reading it with as much relish as if it were The Tales of Beedle the Bard?

Snape's gaze locked firmly onto Lin Yuan's face.

He saw a face utterly calm, without the slightest disturbance, and clear eyes that seemed to reflect the stars.

There was no fear, no confusion, no madness born of Dark Magic's allure.

Only a kind of pure focus and composure that he couldn't understand.

Snape felt his throat grow dry.

This boy... was he truly immune to these curses?

How was that possible?!

"Your points for Gryffindor must have made you bold enough to dabble in knowledge that even the dead fear." Snape finally spoke, his distinctive oily, icy voice breaking the silence.

Lin Yuan slowly raised his head and met Snape's scrutinizing, suspicious gaze.

"Professor." He closed the book, his tone as calm as ever. "Knowledge itself has no good or evil. Good and evil lie only in the user's heart."

The words, full of philosophical meaning, sounded like something Dumbledore might say. Coming from an eleven-year-old boy, they were not remotely laughable. Instead, Lin Yuan's detached bearing gave them an undeniable weight.

"Hmph. Smooth words." Snape gave a cold snort, but didn't pursue the matter. He changed the subject, his voice full of scorn. "Potter nearly broke his foolish neck on the Quidditch Pitch yesterday. You were there. What did you think? Did you think your Gryffindor 'Chosen One' looked like a ridiculous puppet dangling from a string?"

Lin Yuan knew it was a test.

Snape was testing how much he had seen.

"What I saw was a professor doing everything he could to cast a 'Counter-Curse' and save a student attacked by Dark Magic," Lin Yuan calmly stated.

Snape's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"Professor, your 'Counter-Curse' yesterday was remarkably precise. The energy output was stable, and its focus was exceptionally strong. You maintained your balance for several minutes under those complicated conditions. It was admirable." Lin Yuan's tone was like that of someone offering an objective academic assessment. "Unfortunately, those children took it for the source of the malice."

He paused and looked at Snape's shadow-hidden face, then added, almost kindly, "I think they misunderstood you."

"Misunderstood?" Snape's lips twisted into an exceedingly contemptuous curve. His voice was full of deliberately exaggerated, icy loathing. "What do I care if Potter lives or dies? I'd be delighted to watch him fall off his broom and splatter into a puddle of arrogant, self-important mud, just like his father."

He spoke with such venom and cruelty that it seemed Harry Potter was his sworn enemy.

Yet Lin Yuan simply watched him in silence.

Through the all-seeing vision of his soul, he could clearly "see" the true emotions hidden deep within Snape's wounded heart—the heart of the Half-Blood Prince, beneath its black, thorn-covered shell.

It wasn't hatred.

It was a mixture of guilt, pain, longing, and a clumsy protectiveness he wouldn't even admit to himself.

The one he protected wasn't the boy named "Harry Potter."

He protected the only blood Lily Evans had left in this world.

He protected those emerald-green eyes, identical to hers.