touchnovel Chapter 311 The Secret Visit
Chapter 311 The Secret Visit
Chapter 311 A Secret Visit (5.3K) (1/2) (Seeking monthly votes at the end of the month)
Countless dust particles, shimmering with a faint magical glow, exploded, diffused, and scattered in the air.
Only two items remained suspended in the air—the seemingly ordinary Stone Tower Merchant Guild emblem, and a magic stone that radiated an alluring yet dangerous crimson glow, like a beating heart.
The real Lynch, who had been sitting upright on the high-backed sofa by the fireplace, slowly opened his eyes.
He watched the scene of his clone disintegrating before him, his face expressionless, as if he were merely watching a leaf fall naturally.
He raised his hand and waved it casually.
An invisible force instantly enveloped all the solid dust particles in the air, forcibly gathering and compressing them into a grayish-white sphere made of real debris that was constantly rolling slightly.
The surface of the sphere also shows subtle, shimmering crystalline reflections.
With a flick of his finger, Lynch sent the solid dust ball made up of the remnants of his clone precisely into the leaping flames in the fireplace.
"laugh----"
A slight burning sound rang out, and the dust ball quickly turned black and carbonized in the flames, eventually turning into a small, inconspicuous clump of ash that merged into the embers at the bottom of the furnace and disappeared completely.
Then, Lin Qi turned his gaze to the badge and magic stone that were still floating in the air.
He gestured with his hand, and the two items obediently flew into his palm.
The badge was cold to the touch, and its tentacles felt no different from ordinary metal.
The magic stone, on the other hand, radiated a warm and powerful life force, its bright red color appearing particularly mysterious and dazzling in the dim light of the stone house.
Lynch held the Philosopher's Stone and the badge in his palm, then turned his gaze to the slightly dim corner beside the fireplace.
There, two simple yet comfortable single beds were placed side by side, where Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger lay, their breathing deep and steady, clearly in a magical sleep.
Not long ago, they arrived at this stone house using a Portkey made by Dumbledore. Before they could even breathe a sigh of relief at their safe arrival, they were stunned by the appearance of another Lynch—the original Lynch who had been sitting upright in the chair.
Lynch didn't give them much time to be surprised or ask questions.
He calmly approached them and explained, "Miss Granger should understand that using the Time-Turner is not without its costs. The greater the time span traversed, the higher the potential danger. The reason behind this is that every moment you are conscious, every thought you have, every interaction with the outside world, even within this relatively enclosed stone house, is constantly fixing tiny future nodes. The more of these fixed nodes there are, the greater the pressure on the time structure, and the easier it is to generate unpredictable paradoxical vortexes, the so-called 'time backlash'—enough to completely erase your existence or banish you to the rifts of time."
He looked at the two children, their faces growing paler, and continued, "Therefore, the best way to minimize the risk is to reduce your interactions at the wrong time as much as possible. Putting you into a state of unconscious slumber until the right time arrives is the safest option in the current situation. In this slumber, you won't be fixed on any meaningful future, and the ripples in time will be minimized."
He did not ask for their opinions because it was not an option, but a necessary protective measure.
With a flick of his finger, two single beds covered with soft blankets appeared on the warm floor beside the fireplace.
"Lie down." His tone left no room for argument.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, both seeing fear and a vague understanding of Lynch's words in each other's eyes, but even more so, an instinctive dread of the unknown "time backlash".
They did not resist and obediently lay down on their respective small beds.
Lynch walked over to them, gently touched their foreheads with both hands, and whispered a short incantation.
A soft white light flashed, and Ron and Hermione's eyelids immediately became heavy, their last vestiges of consciousness quickly enveloped by the warm darkness.
Their breathing became long and steady as they entered the deepest sleep, maintained by magic, as if time had temporarily stopped flowing through them.
At this moment, Lin Qi looked at the two sleeping children and confirmed that the magic was working steadily.
They will fall asleep like this until they are awakened by pre-set magic or taken back to the correct point in time, during which time their own influence on the timeline will be minimized.
Lynch stood up from the high-backed sofa, no longer looking at the now-extinguished flames in the fireplace.
He took the badge and the bright red magic stone and headed towards the inverted staircase.
In the center of the alchemy room, on the stone workbench, the golden metal engraved with intricate magical runes still remained.
The magical runes seemed to flow faintly in the dim light, as if they possessed a life of their own.
Lynch walked to the stone table and carefully placed the magic stone and the badge side by side in the center of the table.
The moment the two items touched the table, the metallic runes seemed to come alive, glowing briefly and emitting a low hum before quickly returning to calm. However, the bright red luster of the magic stone seemed more restrained and stable, and a barely perceptible halo swept across the surface of the badge.
He didn't linger there. After confirming that everything was settled, he turned around and went back down the inverted staircase to the first floor.
Lynch walked to the coat rack, took down the neatly pressed suit jacket, put it on smoothly, and straightened the collar.
His gaze finally settled on Ron and Hermione, who were sleeping soundly on the two small beds beside the fireplace, confirming that their breathing was steady and that the sleeping spell was still in place.
Without further hesitation, Lin Qi turned around and pushed open the heavy wooden door of the stone house without a second thought. His figure disappeared into the deeper darkness of the night outside. The door closed gently behind him, leaving behind the silence of the room and the two children who had transcended time.
The cold, damp air of the cellar, carrying the lingering scent of potions, enveloped us as if it were a tangible presence.
Snape pushed open the door to his office, the heavy wooden door closing behind him with a dull thud, completely shutting out the outside world's disturbances.
He leaned against the cold wooden door, and the last bit of strength that had been holding him up and supporting his movements vanished suddenly, like a rope being cut.
His tall frame slid slowly down the rough wood grain, finally collapsing completely onto the cold ground. His black robes billowed out around him, like a bat with broken wings, no longer able to provide any semblance of majesty.
He didn't even have the strength to walk a few steps to the chair.
The black robe was still wrapped around his body, but it no longer resembled the majestic armor it usually wore. Instead, it seemed to be soaked in cold sweat and despair, pressing heavily on his shoulders.
He had just returned from St. Mungo's, and the therapist's final diagnosis echoed in his weary mind: Harry Potter's vital signs were stable, and he might even wake up soon, but he had suffered severe soul chill and dark magic damage, requiring long-term observation and treatment. Thanks to his timely and costless potion treatment, and Lynch's damn protective magic, the boy's life was saved at the last moment.
But these rational and hopeful words seem so pale and powerless at this moment.
They couldn't penetrate that thick, icy shell of pure fear. In those few short minutes, they touched the cold skin, sensed no pulse, and saw those lifeless green eyes that resembled Lily's—the realization that "he's dead" had left an indelible mark on his soul like a red-hot branding iron.
The cold touch on Harry's skin still felt like it was clinging to his fingertips, causing a physiological spasm and nausea in his stomach.
At this moment, the crisis was temporarily averted, and the branding iron was removed, leaving behind a deeper, emptier burning pain and a kind of exhaustion that almost drained his marrow.
He leaned back against the door, his neck drooping limply, revealing his pale throat.
His eye sockets were sunken, filled only with the numbness of someone who had been completely hollowed out.
His chest rose and fell slowly and heavily, each breath carrying an indescribable feeling of stagnation.
He didn't even try to stand up or light a lamp; he simply let himself sink into the thick darkness and silence inherent in the cellar, letting the cold stone bricks seep through his thin black robe into his already stiff limbs.
The office was deathly silent, with only his suppressed and slow breathing as evidence that a barely cobbled-together soul, on the verge of collapse, still existed in the darkness.
Suddenly, a slightly concerned voice rang out from the deepest darkness of the office without warning: "Would you like a drink?"
!!!
Like a startled snake, Snape sprang up from the ground!
His movements were so fast they almost left afterimages. His long-standing combat instincts instantly put him on alert, his wand already gripped tightly in his hand, pointed directly at the source of the sound—the direction of his desk!
Almost as soon as he stood up, "Pfft!"
In the office fireplace, the once cold embers suddenly burst into a blazing, leaping flame, instantly illuminating the entire room and dispelling the shadows in the corners.
Under the light, Lin Qi was seen sitting comfortably in his high-backed office chair, leaning back slightly.
He took off his coat, revealing a well-tailored waistcoat and a slightly loosened tie. One hand rested casually on the armrest, while the other toyed with a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. He seemed out of place in this potion cellar, as if he had just returned from some upscale club rather than having just experienced a chaotic night of werewolves, Dementors, and explosions.
He met Snape's wary and shocked gaze, shook the glass in his hand, and the ice cubes made a crisp clinking sound.
"It seems necessary," Lynch replied with a smile.
The flickering firelight from the fireplace clearly illuminated the lingering fear and sudden surge of rage on Snape's face.
He stared intently at the man who had taken his seat and was acting as if he were in his own living room. His chest heaved violently, and all the emotions he had forcibly suppressed—fear, despair, shame, and especially the rage of being caught witnessing his most shameful act—erupted like lava.
"You—" Snape's voice was horribly hoarse, filled with unbelievable violence, "How dare you—?!"
Get out of my office, Lynch!
The tip of the wand flashed an unstable light dangerously, pointing directly at Lynch's brow.
Lin Qi merely raised an eyebrow slightly, took a sip of his drink, and seemed oblivious to the deadly magic wand.
Snape's rationality completely crumbled under that indifferent gaze.
He took a sudden step forward, no longer the gloomy and restrained potion master, but like a wounded beast that had been thoroughly enraged.
"Who do you think you are?! To barge into my place as you please?! To watch me like a spectator—like a pathetic insect struggling in a trap?!" He practically roared, every word dripping with venom and humiliation. "You saw everything, didn't you?! You were right there, watching me because—watching me—"
He could no longer utter that word; it would evoke that overwhelming despair once more.
The feeling of being stared at nakedly, of having all his vulnerability and wretchedness exposed to the other person, drove him more insane than any excruciating pain.
"You damned, self-important bastard—!" A string of extremely vicious curses, mixed with various rare dark magic words, were squeezed out of Snape's teeth, even including a few Muggle swear words, showing how out of control he had become.
He waved his wand, and the glass bottles and jars around him vibrated and hummed under his out-of-control magic, as if they were about to shatter at any moment.
He didn't care how strong Lin Qi was, nor did he care about the consequences of taking action. At this moment, he only wanted to tear apart this man who had seen through all his pretenses and trampled on his last shred of dignity.
Lynch finally put down his wine glass, the crystal glass striking the table with a crisp sound that was exceptionally clear amidst the frenzied roar.
He raised his eyes and calmly met Snape's eyes, which burned with hellfire: "Don't worry, I was careful when I came in. No one or anything knows I'm here."
Lynch's words were like the coldest mockery, precisely piercing the core of Snape's boiling rage. This was not appeasement; it was a further provocation, a blatant declaration that he possessed the absolute power to intrude and witness Snape's collapse at will, and that he cared nothing for it.
Snape's roar came to an abrupt halt.
His facial muscles contorted and twitched with extreme rage, his hand gripping the wand trembled violently from excessive force, his knuckles making a cracking sound as he strained against the weight. The magical light gathered at the tip of the wand flickered erratically, almost bursting out uncontrollably—the volcano of emotion, suppressed to its limit, was about to erupt!
However, just as the devastating curse was about to be uttered, a sliver of cold rationality belonging to the double agent, like the hardest crust of the earth, forcefully and even brutally suppressed the erupting magma.
He stared intently into Lynch's calm, even slightly amused eyes, and clearly recognized a cruel truth: the attack was futile, and might even bring him humiliation.
He couldn't kill Lynch, or even hurt him, and the other man was clearly aware of this and didn't care at all.
This realization was like a bucket of ice water mixed with shame, poured over his burning soul.
The external volcanic eruption was forcibly shut down, but the internal magma continued to surge and transform wildly.
The burning anger did not disappear, but under extreme repression, it quickly transformed into a bone-chilling coldness, mixed with a sharp self-mockery of one's own powerlessness, and a deeper sorrow about one's own situation and fate.
Look at yourself, Severus Snape.
Like a snake whose fangs have been pulled out, it can only pathetically inflate its neck and bluff.
Your anger and your pain are nothing but an ugly spectacle for others to watch in the face of true power.
He sat there like he was watching a poorly written play, and you were the only actor on stage who was fully engaged but utterly ridiculous.
The violent aura surrounding Snape receded like a tide, replaced by a deeper sorrow that almost overwhelmed him.
It wasn't for his current predicament, but for his life trajectory, which was destined to be filled with powerlessness and humiliation.
Protect Lily's son?
He couldn't even protect his own emotions and dignity, revealing his most vulnerable side nakedly in front of an intruder, and then he didn't even have the ability to retaliate.
This realization hurt him more deeply than any curse.
All the sharp lines on Snape's face relaxed, but not in a relaxed way; rather, like a mask that had lost its support, they revealed a complete emptiness. His black eyes, which always burned with some emotion—whether hatred or mockery—now seemed to have been emptied of all light, becoming two bottomless pools of stagnant water that reflected nothing.
The violent aura emanating from him dissipated, replaced by an absolute coldness that could freeze the air itself.
His movement of lowering his wand was extremely slow, with an almost deliberate stiffness, as if he were resisting some enormous resistance. His fingers loosened and tightened one by one, until finally the wand fell limply to his side, like an abandoned toy.
Snape no longer looked at Lynch, as if there was nothing in that direction.
His gaze shifted to the darkest shadow on the cellar wall, as if he wanted to immerse himself completely in it, merge with the darkness, and shut himself off from all external prying eyes and his own disheveled state.
The office was so quiet you could hear dust falling to the ground.
After a long silence, Snape's lips moved slightly, his voice hoarse and dry, devoid of any intonation, as if he had completely banished himself to the edge of consciousness, leaving only an empty shell performing the bare minimum of communication: "...What brings you here?"
However, Lynch did not answer his question immediately.
Instead, he stood up from the high-backed chair with unhurried movements, his leather shoes making clear and steady sounds on the cellar stone slabs, which were particularly abrupt in the deathly silence.
He didn't linger behind the desk, but walked straight to Snape, who was standing frozen in place, until the two were so close they could almost feel each other's breath.
This distance carried an undeniable sense of intrusion, forcing Snape's unfocused, escaping gaze to refocus and involuntarily fall on Lynch's face, which was so close to his.
Their eyes met in mid-air.
Lynch's gaze remained calm, yet it possessed a sharpness that pierced through all pretense, locking firmly into Snape's stagnant eyes, which were trying to conceal all emotions.
He ignored the icy barrier emanating from Snape that rejected everything, and looked directly into the core of Snape's eyes, which tried to hide everything but still retained a trace of embers.
"I'm here," Lynch said in a steady voice, each word clear, "for something very important."
He paused slightly, as if to make sure that every word he said next was imprinted in the other person's mind.
"For that," his gaze remained unwavering, "something we both care about—Lily's child."
The name "Lily" was like a sealed taboo spell, which Lin Qi suddenly unveiled at this moment in a calm and almost cruel way.