The traces a person leaves behind in this world are often etched in the hearts of others.
Take, for example, that young couple named Potter who perished years ago. There are some who still cannot let go of their deaths, and others who, in the quiet of night, sometimes dream of the warm embrace hidden deep in childhood memory.
So, years later, when faced with those hauntingly familiar eyes, Snape would sometimes lose himself in a moment's daze. And just as often, he'd be driven to exasperation—because the owner of those eyes was far too much like his father. Not just in looks, but in his knack for trouble and love of the spotlight.
The events of Halloween had left Snape inwardly seething. Afterwards, he'd stormed down the corridor, confiscated that book with little ceremony, and docked five points from Gryffindor—a move that, if we're honest, came with a fair bit of personal vendetta.
As for Harry Potter, living and learning in the very place his parents once did, he often found two vague figures drifting through his mind. He imagined them everywhere at Hogwarts: classrooms, corridors, the Great Hall, the courtyard, the grassy banks of the Black Lake...
Did they love and loathe the same subjects he did? Did they get lost in the corridors or on the stairs? What did they talk about around the Great Hall table? Did they ever while away an afternoon by the lake?
These thoughts surfaced now and again, leaving him momentarily lost in reverie.
It was only natural, then, that Harry would have a special anticipation for the sport his father once played.
As someone with the "bird's-eye view" of an outsider, Qin Yu could easily understand such feelings.
And then, inevitably, his mind wandered to someone who had left a mark on his own life—Professor Stephen Swinton.
No one knew where the man had gone. Days had passed without a word. Qin Yu couldn't reach him and was stubbornly working on that alchemical longsword, hoping to find some way to establish contact.
"I swear, I worry myself sick over everyone—big and small," Qin Yu muttered, glancing at Hermione, who had just finished her little "report."
Hermione blinked up at him, her clear eyes wide and just a touch adorably bewildered.
He ruffled her hair with a smile. "Alright, I get it. Next time something like this happens, just tell me right away, okay?"
"Mm-hmm, I will!" she nodded solemnly, the very picture of obedience.
With that, the two of them headed off to the Great Hall, followed by dinner and the usual study session—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worth lingering on.
...
Whether it was the power of idle thoughts or something else, the very next morning—the day of the Quidditch match—Qin Yu had barely donned his robes and grabbed his broom when Professor Snape summoned him to his office.
No sooner had he entered than Snape handed him a thin envelope.
On the front, in handsome, familiar cursive, were two simple words:
To Qin
Seeing the "S.S." signed in the corner, Qin Yu instantly guessed the sender. His face brightened as he asked, "Is this from Professor Swinton?"
"Yes. It arrived just this morning." Snape nodded, and for once, there was a hint of relief in his voice. Even the icy lines of his face seemed to soften.
"Well, it's about time we heard from him," Qin Yu said, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
Although neither had spoken of it, both had been quietly worried during Swinton's long silence. Now, with a letter finally in hand, the weight on their hearts eased.
Qin Yu wasted no time. Right there in front of Snape, he opened the envelope and unfolded the single, slender sheet inside.
The message was as brief as the paper was thin:
"Dear Qin,
Since our last communication, I ventured into a remote and uninhabited place in search of something. Communication has been difficult, and I was unable to write sooner—I hope you haven't worried. In the coming days, I'll be focused on studying my latest discovery and may be out of touch for quite a while. I'm writing now so you won't worry.
Your teacher and friend,
Stephen Swinton"
It was so short that even after reading it twice, Qin Yu was done in moments.
He lingered for a second on that old-fashioned phrase—"do not worry"—and couldn't help but mutter, "That's it?!"
He handed the letter to Snape.
Snape scanned its contents, unsurprised, and nodded. "Almost exactly like the one he sent me."
"Honestly, could he be any lazier? His letters are getting shorter and shorter," Qin Yu complained, then added, "Still, at least we've heard from him. All that worry for nothing."
"Only you were worried." Snape flicked his robes and turned back to his desk.
"Yeah, right, only me. You didn't worry at all," Qin Yu snarked, but he didn't bother to argue with the ever-prickly Potions Master.
With news from the missing Professor Swinton, Qin Yu could finally set that worry aside—and face the upcoming Quidditch match with one less distraction.
"I still have to get ready for the match, so I'll be off. See you, Professor Snape!"
He tucked the letter away, bid Snape farewell, and left with a spring in his step.
As he walked, he mused: now that he'd finally heard from Swinton, did he really need to keep slogging away at that alchemical sword? He hadn't made much progress lately.
But then again, after putting in so much effort, giving up now would make all that work for nothing.
Ah, the sunk cost fallacy—the real reason people stick with things.
"You should keep practicing alchemical communication," Snape's voice called out just as Qin Yu was about to leave.
"Hmm?" Qin Yu paused, surprised at how in sync their thoughts were.
"I mean, if Swinton disappears again, you'll have a way to reach him," Snape said, eyes on his desk as he tidied up, voice as flat as ever.
"Good point. Why didn't I think of that?" Qin Yu nodded with mock seriousness, then grinned. "Imagine if his sword suddenly started echoing our voices—wait, my voice—wouldn't he jump out of his skin? Heh, that'd be hilarious!"
He finished with a silly chuckle, clearly picturing the scene.
Snape didn't even bother to respond to his nonsense.
Unfazed, Qin Yu hummed a tune as he left the office—a melody from some other world.
"I'll send you away, a thousand miles away..."
His voice faded down the corridor. Snape frowned, listening for a moment, but couldn't make out what on earth the boy was singing.
...
North America. New York. In an old five-story building tucked away in the bustle of downtown.
At the very moment Qin Yu was opening that letter, a middle-aged wizard, dozing in one of the bedrooms, opened his eyes.
"The letters are sent. They shouldn't come looking for that guy anymore, right?" he murmured to himself.
He'd cast a spell on the envelope—he'd know the instant it was opened.
Now, at last, he could sleep in peace.
Or so he thought.
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