Flying

Silas lay on his bed, processing the massive amount of information that his mother was a Muggle and that he was about to enter the world of Harry Potter. But soon, another, more specific, and more nagging thought occupied his mind – flying.

In Doctor Strange, the scene of the levitating cloak speeding through the skies of New York with Strange, locked in a fierce battle with Kaecilius, replayed in his mind like a carousel. That freedom, that coolness, that disregard for gravity… what boy could refuse it?

He glanced at the levitating cloak, which was currently resting innocently on the back of a chair, pretending to be just an ordinary cloak. One corner of the cloak twitched imperceptibly, as if responding to his gaze.

"Hey, buddy," Silas whispered in Chinese, "You can fly, right? Just like in the movies."

The cloak didn't make any bigger movements, but Silas could feel a faint, eager emotional link. The system was playing dead, probably thinking such a "suicidal" act wasn't part of the curriculum.

Let's do it! The adventurous spirit of Lin Yuan (or rather, the "shortcut-seeking" mindset born from Silas's laziness) began to stir within him. Theoretical knowledge? Flying manuals? Non-existent, practice makes perfect!

He tiptoed to the window and pushed it open. The cool night air rushed in, and the garden below looked serene in the moonlight… and a little high.

"Here goes nothing!" he gritted his teeth, mimicked Strange's pose from memory, turned, and flipped out the window!

A sense of weightlessness instantly seized him, and the wind howled in his ears. The ground rapidly enlarged in his vision.

"Cloak!" he yelled in his mind.

Just as he thought he was about to become "the shortest-lived transmigrator and novice Sorcerer Supreme in history," the levitating cloak on the chair back shot out like a dark red lightning bolt, precisely wrapping around his falling little body!

A powerful buoyancy suddenly surged, and the descent stopped abruptly. Silas, like a cat whose scruff was being held, hovered less than half a meter above the ground.

"Whew… that was close," he patted his chest, still shaken, then got excited, "It worked! I can really fly!"

He tried to control it with his mind: "Ascend!"

The cloak understood his intent and carried him steadily upward, over the rooftops, giving him a panoramic view of the entire community's nightscape. The lights of countless homes were like scattered stars, the evening breeze brushed his face, and the feeling of freedom made him exhilarated.

"This is amazing! A million times cooler than a broomstick!" Silas excitedly directed the cloak to weave and circle through the night sky, even attempting a few sharp turns. The cloak cooperated perfectly, as if it were an extension of his own body.

However, extreme joy can lead to sorrow. Immersed in the thrill of flight, he didn't notice that he had already flown out of the quiet villa district and approached another area with scattered lights and passing vehicles. A man returning home late was walking his dog when he happened to look up and saw a child in a strange robe, wrapped in a red cloak, flying across the moon in an extremely unscientific manner.

The dog leash dropped from the man's hand, his mouth forming an 'O' shape as he rubbed his eyes vigorously.

Silas also saw the petrified figure below and his heart sank, "Oh no! I forgot about Muggles… no, I forgot ordinary people can't see this!"

He quickly lowered his altitude, trying to hide in the shadows, but it was clearly too late. For the next half hour, he was like a headless fly, trying to avoid potential sightings, but his flight path had already exposed too much.

Finally, he decided to land and found a small, seemingly secluded and deserted park. As soon as his feet touched the ground, before he could even catch his breath, a deep, calm voice with undeniable power echoed behind him.

"Good evening, Silas. I believe you owe me an explanation."

Silas stiffly turned around. In the moonlight, a tall, imposing figure stood there, wearing a well-tailored Muggle suit, his bald head gleaming in the moonlight, a golden hoop in his ear, his expression stern. It was his cousin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who worked at the Ministry of Magic! He had met him during a family gathering before, but his past life memories hadn't awakened then, so he only felt that this cousin had a strong aura and didn't think of him as an Auror at all.

Silas's mind raced through countless excuses, finally managing a dry smile and attempting to brush it off with pleasantries: "Hi, Cousin… Good evening, have you eaten?"

Kingsley's gaze swept over the wizard robe he was wearing, finally settling on the obviously restless levitating cloak. He frowned slightly, "Silas… where did that red cloak come from? I'll assume you didn't just pick it up off the street." He sighed, rubbing his temples, his tone tinged with helplessness, "Looks like the Memory Eradication Department will be working overtime tonight."

Silas knew he was in trouble. Being caught by his Auror cousin meant he'd caused a significant mess. He was sure to get a double scolding from his parents upon returning home, and might even have his activities restricted by the Ministry. In a flash, he made a bold (or perhaps foolish) decision.

"I choose to flee from justice!" he shouted, concentrating, recalling the feeling of opening a portal that morning, and slammed his hands forward in a circle!

This time, perhaps due to a burst of potential under pressure, the fiery circle formed rapidly with a crackle. Although the edges still flickered unstably, an entrance had indeed opened. Silas plunged into it without even looking at what was on the other side!

Kingsley didn't expect the young man to be so decisive, and it was too late to stop him. He could only watch as the portal quickly closed after Silas disappeared. He strode to where Silas had vanished, only a faint, strange magical fluctuation remaining in the air. His expression grave, he took out his wand and whispered, "Accio!"

However, the tip of his wand showed no signs of pointing towards a Disillusionment Charm or an invisibility cloak. Kingsley's frown deepened. It wasn't a Disillusionment Charm, nor Apparition (which had a bang and a sense of spatial compression), nor a Portkey. This was a method of spatial movement he had never seen before.

"Red cloak… space magic… Silas…" Kingsley muttered to himself, his eyes sharpening, "Cousin Pella, your son has likely gotten himself into far more trouble than we imagined."

He had to report to the Ministry immediately, but not in the name of apprehending a rule-breaking young wizard, but rather… to report the appearance of an unknown, powerful magical phenomenon.

Meanwhile, Silas tumbled out of the other end of the portal, landing on the hard, cold ground. Gritting his teeth, he got up and looked around, instantly dumbfounded.

He was surrounded by brightly lit shops, with huge neon signs flashing the words "Piccadilly Circus." He was standing on the sidewalk of London's central Piccadilly Circus, amidst a bustling crowd, with countless eyes staring in astonishment at this child who had suddenly appeared out of thin air, wearing a strange robe and a red cloak.

"It's over…" Silas's vision went black, "Now I'm even more completely exposed…"

"System! Skill tree! Show me when the next survival skill can be unlocked!" he frantically called out in his mind, "If this keeps up, I'll be lectured to death by my mom or the Ministry before Voldemort even gets me!"

The system's voice carried a hint of amusement, as if relishing the chaos, "[Oh dear, Host, it seems your first flying practical and city navigation class didn't go too well. You did gain some experience points, though… However, to unlock the Ring of the Ragaddor, you'll need more 'stable' practice.]"

Silas: "……" All he wanted now was a place to sleep peacefully, but it seemed that wish was completely dashed for the foreseeable future.