Hogwarts?

That seventh birthday had been a mental marathon for Silas. He had to plaster on age-appropriate "surprised" expressions for the gifts—Lego, a remote-controlled car, new clothes—maintain a stiff smile while relatives pinched his cheeks and praised him as a "little gentleman," and, worst of all, force himself to swallow a traditional British birthday dinner that his newly awakened taste buds regarded as torture.

The roast chicken breast was as dry as sawdust, the boiled vegetables had lost every trace of color and soul, and even the much-anticipated chocolate cake was so cloyingly sweet it made him question his life. Every bite was a betrayal of his memories of spicy, savory food from his previous life. He had barely survived the entire party by constantly roasting everything in his head.

"Why... why are potatoes either roasted or mashed..." "Do peas really still need to be eaten after being boiled this grayish green?" "God, if they'd ever tasted braised pork or hot pot..."

When the last guest finally left and the house returned to peace and quiet, Silas felt as though he had fought a brutal battle and had his soul hollowed out. He collapsed onto the wool carpet in his room, stared at the elaborate ceiling molding, and let out a long, deep breath.

"Finally... it's over." He muttered to himself, then seemed to recall something and called out in his mind, System, are you still there? Don't tell me you just gave me something and then ran off after dropping the package like one of those irresponsible delivery guys?

[Ding-dong! Your thoughtful system is online!] The teasing voice immediately replied. [Of course not, buddy. Handing out equipment was just the appetizer. The real lessons and growth system are only getting started! Check this out!]

As the system spoke, a translucent, faintly glowing interface materialized before Silas's eyes. It resembled some kind of high-tech holographic projection, yet it existed clearly within his field of vision and did not shift when he moved his eyes. The main body of the interface was a complex tree diagram made of countless nodes and lines. Faint golden halos flowed through the lines, giving it an air of mystery.

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

[Your skill tree!] The system's tone was proud. [What do you think? Pretty intuitive, right? A customized growth path designed specifically for you, host—clear and easy to understand. Mom never has to worry about your studies again!]

Silas looked closely. The skill tree was indeed divided into two main branches. One shimmered with a warm platinum glow and was labeled "Vishanti Origin (Supreme Magic)." The other was a deep, nearly black dark purple, silent and dangerous-looking, labeled "Dark Dimension (Dark Magic)." That entire branch was gray, clearly still locked.

The system explained at just the right moment: [As you can see, the skill tree has two paths. Supreme Magic is the proper route of a mystic arts sorcerer, drawing on the power of white magic dimensions such as the Vishanti. Dark Magic, as the name suggests, draws from the Dark Dimension. It's powerful and quick to master, but the price... you know. It's addictive and corrupts the mind. Until you obtain the Darkhold, don't even think about touching the Dark Magic branch.]

Silas focused on the only lit skill tree, "Vishanti Origin." At its roots, the first node had been activated. Its icon was a simple circle formed from sparks, with the skill name beneath it: Portal. Beside it was an unremarkable label: LV1.

Looking higher up, there were several second-tier nodes, but all of them were gray. He could just make out one icon shaped like a round shield, the Ring of the Ragaddor, another resembling golden energy bolts, the Claws of Denak, and several other symbols in different forms.

Silas's face fell. Pointing at the lone LV1 Portal icon, he complained, "Well, damn. So after all that, I've only unlocked one skill, and it's fucking level one? Is this cheat ability of mine just a trial version or something?"

[Hey, don't put it like that!] The system immediately retorted in an encouraging tone. [It means you have enormous potential and will soon reach the second tier! Look at it—the Ring of the Ragaddor! That super-cool magic shield Doctor Strange uses! And the Claws of Denak, those whooshing golden energy bolts! Just imagine how awesome you'll look in a fight! Come on, kid, practice more, and your experience points will shoot right up!]

Silas rolled his eyes, but he was still somewhat tempted by the system's sales pitch. After all, what edgy teenage boy—whether he was actually seven or twenty-seven—could resist the temptation of crafting magical shields and energy bolts with his own hands?

He closed the skill tree interface, but another, more fundamental question rose in his mind. "Say, System, what world did I transmigrate into, exactly? Judging by the architecture and the English-speaking environment, it's probably Britain. But are there Avengers? Is there Kamar-Taj? What year is this?"

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

Silas froze for a moment, then showed an expression of just as I thought and nodded calmly. "Okay. I'm not surprised."

Really, with wizards and magic everywhere, it made perfect sense to connect this place to the Harry Potter world. Besides, compared to the Marvel universe, where aliens invaded and dimensions collapsed at the drop of a hat, Hogwarts sounded... somewhat 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 carrying a glass of milk, her face filled with gentle concern.

"Silas, what are you thinking about? Sitting on the floor spacing out all by yourself." Pella set the milk on the small table beside him, crouched down, and smoothed the curls over his forehead. "You're only seven, sweetheart. Why do you look so gloomy every day? Didn't you enjoy your birthday?"

"No, Mom, I had a great time." Silas hurriedly forced out a smile. "I'm just a little tired. I was resting for a bit."

Pella was not entirely convinced, but her attention was soon drawn elsewhere. At some point, the dark red Levitating Cloak had slipped out through a gap in the wardrobe and was brushing one corner against Silas's calf like a puppy asking to be petted.

Pella reacted quickly and grabbed the cloak in one hand.

"What is this?" She held up the cloak, her expression full of surprise and curiosity. The cloak squirmed restlessly in her grasp, trying to break free.

Silas's heart skipped a beat. "Huh?" His mind raced as he considered how to explain this creation that clearly did not belong in this world. Say he had found it? Bought it? Neither explanation made any sense.

Yet Pella's reaction took him by surprise. She did not display the terror or disbelief an ordinary person should have shown upon seeing a magical object. Instead, she carefully ran her fingers over the cloak's material, her eyes holding more curiosity and a kind of understanding.

"Very unusual craftsmanship... It contains a magical fluctuation I've never felt before." Pella spoke thoughtfully, then looked at her bewildered son. "An alchemical item? A very advanced one, and... it seems to possess a simple self-awareness?"

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

Pella smiled and handed the cloak back to Silas. The instant it returned to his hands, it settled down and wrapped itself around his shoulders ingratiatingly. Her tone was as calm as if they were discussing the weather. "Well, of course I'm surprised to see something like this suddenly appear in our home. But the fact that things like this—magical things that move on their own—exist in this world doesn't surprise me at all."

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

Thus, Pella Kirill, née Pella Shackel, who had been born into one of the famous Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-blood Families of the magical world but was a Squib unable to freely perform magic from birth, unveiled a corner of the magical world to her seven-year-old son. She told him about Hogwarts, wizards, wands, Quidditch, and why she had chosen to leave that world behind and start a new life in Muggle London.

As Silas listened to his mother, everything suddenly became clear. So that was it! His mother was a Squib, which was why she was so accepting of magical phenomena and could even sense the "magical fluctuations" on the cloak. It perfectly explained why she was so calm and gave him excellent cover for using mystic arts magic in the future—his mother would probably think he was simply a magically gifted descendant of wizards whose powers had awakened in an unusual way!

"So, Mom," Silas carefully confirmed after she finished, "does that mean I might... be a wizard too?"

"Very likely, darling." Pella stroked his hair, her eyes holding both relief and a trace of complicated worry. "Though the way your abilities manifest... is very unusual. But there's no doubt that you inherited magic. Perhaps this cloak was drawn to you by it. Still, Silas, remember this: in the magical world, power also means responsibility, and... potential danger. Before you are strong enough, you must learn to be cautious and protect yourself."

Silas nodded solemnly. He looked at his mother, felt the Levitating Cloak rubbing against his shoulders, and thought of the unreliable system and incomplete skill tree in his mind.

Hogwarts was still years away from opening. During those years, perhaps he could properly study this "Vishanti Origin" skill tree.