Hogwarts?

That seventh birthday was a mental marathon for Silas. He had to force an age-appropriate "surprised" look onto his face for the gifts (Lego, remote control cars, new clothes), maintain a stiff smile while relatives pinched his cheeks and called him a "little gentleman," and worst of all, compel himself to swallow the traditional British birthday feast that felt like torture to his awakened taste buds.

The roast chicken breast was dry as sawdust, the boiled vegetables had lost all color and soul, and even the chocolate cake, which he'd pinned his hopes on, was so cloyingly sweet it made him question his existence. Every bite was a betrayal of his past life's memories of spicy, savory flavors. He barely made it through the entire party, relying on the constant stream of internal complaints to keep him going.

"Why... why are potatoes always either roasted or mashed..." "Are peas even worth eating when they're cooked to this grayish-green?" "God, if only they could taste braised pork belly or hot pot..."

When the last guest finally left and the house returned to its quiet state, Silas felt like he'd fought a hard battle and had his soul hollowed out. He slumped onto the wool carpet in his room, gazing at the intricate relief on the ceiling, and let out a long, deep sigh.

"Finally... it's over," he muttered to himself. Then, as if remembering something, he called out in his mind, "System, are you still there? You're not just going to send me something and then ditch me like those irresponsible delivery guys, are you?"

[Ding dong! Your attentive System is online!] a playful voice immediately responded, [Of course not, buddy! Sending equipment was just the appetizer. The real teaching and growth system starts now! Check this out!]

As the System spoke, a semi-transparent, faintly glowing interface appeared out of thin air before Silas's eyes. It was like some kind of high-tech holographic projection, yet it existed clearly within his vision, not shifting as he moved his eyes. The main body of the interface was a complex tree diagram made of countless nodes and lines, the lines flowing with a faint golden aura, full of mystery.

"This is..." Silas's eyes widened.

[Your skill tree!] the System's tone was filled with pride, [How's that, intuitive enough? A growth path tailor-made for you, the host, clear and easy to understand. Mom won't have to worry about your studies anymore!]

Silas looked closely. The skill tree was indeed divided into two main branches. One shimmered with a warm white-gold light, labeled "Vishanti Origin (Supreme Magic)." The other was deep, almost black, dark purple, appearing silent and dangerous, labeled "Dark Dimension (Dark Magic)." This entire branch was gray, clearly in an unlocked state.

The System explained in a timely manner: [As you can see, the skill tree is divided into two paths. Supreme Magic, which is the proper path of a sorcerer, relies on the power of white magic dimensions like the Vishanti. Dark Magic, as the name suggests, draws from the Dark Dimension. It's powerful and fast, but the cost... you know, it's addictive and corrupts the mind. Until you obtain the Darkhold, you won't be able to touch the Dark Magic path at all.]

Silas's gaze focused on the only lit skill tree, "Vishanti Origin." At the root of the tree, the first node was lit. The icon was a simple circle made of sparks, with the skill name below: Portal. There was also an inconspicuous mark next to it: LV1.

Looking further up, there were several nodes on the second level, but they were all gray. He could vaguely make out one icon as a circular shield (Ring of the Ragaddor), another like a golden energy missile (Claws of Denak), and a few other icons with various shapes.

Silas's face fell. He pointed at the solitary LV1 Portal icon and grumbled, "Wow, just wow. After all that, I've only unlocked this one skill, and it's level one? Is this cheat system just a trial version?"

[Hey, you can't say that!] the System immediately retorted, its tone full of encouragement, [This means you have great potential and will soon reach the second level! Look at the second level, the Ring of the Ragaddor! That's Doctor Strange's super cool magic shield! And the Claws of Denak, those swooshing golden energy missiles! Imagine how awesome it'll be in a fight! Keep it up, kid, practice more, and the experience points will skyrocket!]

Silas rolled his eyes, but he was still a little tempted by the System's promises. After all, what chuunibyou (whether actually seven or twenty-seven) could resist the allure of conjuring magic shields and energy blasts with their own hands?

He closed the skill tree interface, and a more fundamental question surfaced in his mind. "By the way, System, which world have I transmigrated to? Judging by the architecture and the English environment, it's probably Britain. But are there Avengers? Is there Kamar-Taj? What's the timeline?"

The System answered crisply, [Current world: Harry Potter Magical World. Time point: November 1989 AD. Whether Kamar-Taj exists is uncertain, but Hogwarts definitely does.]

Silas blinked, then showed an "as expected" expression and nodded calmly, "Okay, I'm not surprised."

Indeed, with wizards and magic, it made perfect sense to think of the Harry Potter world. And compared to the Marvel universe, where aliens invaded and dimensions collapsed at the drop of a hat, Hogwarts sounded... safer? At least the daily staple wasn't hero sandwiches and shawarma.

Just then, his bedroom door was gently pushed open. His mother, Pella, walked in with a glass of milk, her face filled with gentle concern.

"Silas, what are you thinking about? Sitting on the floor spacing out." Pella placed the milk on the small table beside him and crouched down, tidying his curly bangs. "You're only seven, child. Why do you seem so glum every day? Didn't you enjoy your birthday?"

"No, Mom, it was great." Silas quickly forced a smile. "I'm just a little tired, resting by spacing out."

Pella looked unconvinced, but her gaze was soon drawn to something else. At Silas's feet, the dark red floating cloak had somehow slipped out from a gap in the wardrobe and was gently rubbing against Silas's calf with a corner, like a puppy seeking affection.

Pella reacted quickly, snatching the cloak.

"What is this?" she asked, holding the cloak, her face showing surprise and curiosity. The cloak writhed restlessly in her hand, trying to break free.

Silas's heart skipped a beat. "Huh?" His mind raced, trying to figure out how to explain this creation that clearly didn't belong in this world. Say he found it? Bought it? Neither seemed plausible.

However, Pella's reaction was beyond his expectations. She didn't show the fear or disbelief a normal person would have upon seeing a "magical item." Instead, she carefully felt the cloak's material, her eyes showing more curiosity and a kind of understanding.

"A very peculiar craftsmanship... containing a magical fluctuation I've never felt before," Pella said thoughtfully, then looked at her bewildered son. "An alchemical item? Quite advanced, and... it seems to have a simple consciousness?"

Silas was even more surprised. "Mom... you... don't you think this is strange? This thing... it's moving!" He pointed at the cloak, which was still trying to curl up.

Pella smiled and handed the cloak back to Silas (the cloak immediately quieted down upon returning to his hands, affectionately wrapping around his shoulders), her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather. "Well, of course, I was surprised to see this thing suddenly appear in our house. But I'm not surprised at all that things like this that move on their own and have magic exist in this world."

She paused, looking into her son's confused eyes, and said gently, "As for why... I think it's time I told you some stories about the other side of our world."

And so, Pella Kirill, formerly Pella Shackel before marriage, born into one of the renowned "Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-blood Families" of the magical world, but a squib who was naturally unable to cast magic freely, began to reveal a corner of the magical world to her seven-year-old son. She spoke of Hogwarts, wizards, wands, Quidditch, and why she chose to leave that world and start a new life in Muggle London.

As Silas listened to his mother's story, his mind suddenly became clear. So that's it! His mother was a squib, which explained her high acceptance of magical phenomena and even her ability to sense the cloak's "magical fluctuations." This perfectly explained her calmness and provided an excellent "cover" for his future use of arcane magic – in his mother's eyes, he was likely just a descendant of wizards with extraordinary talent and a unique awakening method!

"So, Mom," Silas asked cautiously after his mother finished, "you mean... I might... also be a wizard?"

"It's very possible, dear." Pella stroked his hair, her eyes holding both relief and a complex worry. "Although your way of manifesting... is very unusual. But undoubtedly, you've inherited magic. This cloak might be what your magic attracted. However, Silas, remember, in the magical world, ability also means responsibility, and... potential danger. Until you are strong enough, you must learn to be cautious and protect yourself."

Silas nodded solemnly. He looked at his mother, then felt the floating cloak rubbing against his shoulders, and thought of the unreliable System in his mind and the incomplete skill tree.

Hogwarts was still a few years away. Perhaps he could spend these years properly studying this "Vishanti Origin" skill tree.