You knew touching the artifact had been a mistake the moment your fingertips brushed the cold, carved surface but you didn’t expect it to bind you to Professor Snape like an invisible rope. Now you sat in his office as he paced furiously, and each sharp turn sent a wave of dizzy fatigue through your body “Professor, could you please stop moving?” you gasped.

Snape halted mid-stride, shooting you a venomously irritated look. “Your nerves are giving me a headache.”

“Well, your headache is giving me one!”

His eyelid twitched, a sign he was dangerously close to snapping. “Synchronized suffering,” he muttered. “How delightful.” He stalked toward the desk, making your legs ache with each step and he opened a thick tome. Pages flipped with aggressive precision.

“This curse,” he said, scanning the text, “creates a reciprocal sensory link. Whatever one of us feels, the other experiences. Pain, discomfort, fatigue…” His voice dropped. “And potentially more.”

Your cheeks burned. “More?”

“Do not make me elaborate.”