Christmas

As Christmas approached, Hogwarts Castle was filled with festive cheer, though it also felt somewhat empty because of the holiday. Most students had gone home to celebrate, leaving only a handful behind, including Harry Potter and... Silas, who seemingly had nowhere to go.

In the common room (Silas had wandered over to Gryffindor again to mooch off their heating), Harry absently fiddled with a wizard chess piece as he asked Silas, who was dozing on the sofa by the fireplace:

"Silas, during the Christmas holiday... are you going home?"

Silas did not even open his eyes as he lazily replied, "Would it make any difference whether I went back or not?" As he spoke, he casually opened a portal beside him, reached through it into what looked like some sort of snack storeroom, fished out a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and closed the portal again. "Anyway, I can go wherever I want and take whatever I want."

Harry watched this magical scene. Even though he had seen it many times already, he still found it unbelievable. He swallowed, then remembered something more important. Lowering his voice, filled with the excitement and nervousness of sharing a huge secret, he said to Silas:

"Silas! I need to tell you something really important! I found out that Snape—Professor Snape—actually wants to steal that thing in the restricted area on the fourth floor! And during the last Quidditch match, not only did he not stop it, he and Quirrell tried to hurt me! They're in this together!"

At last, Silas opened his eyes. He looked at Harry with an extremely strange expression, inwardly ranting like mad:

Did this kid... have some kind of misunderstanding about himself? Did he really think he was so gifted that he could withstand the curses of two adult wizards at once, then stay on a crazed broomstick for that long without falling off? Did he borrow that confidence from a troll?

Yet his face showed just the right amount of surprise and agreement as he went along with Harry's words. "What? Really? That's terrifying! Then what are you waiting for? Go tell Professor Dumbledore!"

With Silas's "support," Harry became even more convinced. He nodded firmly. "Right! I'll go find Professor Dumbledore right now! We have to stop Snape!"

Watching Harry hurry out of the common room, Silas lay back down on the sofa, tossed a strangely flavored—possibly earwax-flavored—Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into his mouth, shook his head helplessly, and continued his inner monologue:

His parents were murdered when he was little, leaving him a huge inheritance. He lives somewhere that isn't really his home, and he's full of justice but also a little suspicious... Heh, this kid is practically the wizarding world's Bruce Wayne! Though, come to think of it, it's not entirely his fault for imagining things.

Silas's gaze sharpened slightly as he recalled Snape's constant bullying and humiliation of Harry during Potions Class.

Snape really does have issues! Even if he had a grudge against Harry's father, he shouldn't take it out on a child! No remotely qualified professor should openly and continuously bully his own students like that! Given his behavior, it makes perfect sense for Harry to suspect that he wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone and hurt people! He deserves to be treated like a villain!

Silas had never liked Snape. Although he knew Snape was Dumbledore's man, Snape's malice toward students—especially the way he terrorized Neville—made Silas deeply unhappy.

"Forget it," Silas muttered, opening another portal to fetch himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Let them mess around. The Old Bee will cover things anyway. I should think about what kind of feast I want for Christmas..."

On Christmas Day, Silas ultimately returned home to London through a portal. Though he did not have much hope for Hogwarts's Christmas feast, the atmosphere at home was warm in its own way.

Tempting aromas drifted from the kitchen. His mother, Pella, was wearing an apron as she took a huge turkey, roasted golden and crisp, from the oven and placed it in the center of the dining table covered with a pristine white tablecloth. The table was already laden with side dishes: roast potatoes, cranberry sauce, cabbage, gravy, and more. It looked incredibly lavish.

"Silas! Darling! The turkey's ready! Come and have a taste!" Pella called to her son, her face overflowing with holiday joy.

Silas walked over to the table and looked at the enormous turkey. An expression of extreme pain and resistance appeared on his face, as though he were looking not at food, but at some instrument of torture.

"Turkey? Save me, Mum!" Silas wailed. "Turkey is dry and stringy. Eating it is no different from chewing roasted wood! Why do we have to eat this every year?"

Seeing her son's expression, Pella was both annoyed and amused. She lightly patted his head with her grease-stained oven mitt. "It's a Christmas tradition, child! A Christmas feast without turkey is incomplete! Besides, I roasted it for a long time this time. I guarantee it's nice and juicy. Just try it!"

At that moment, his father Anthony also came over after hearing the commotion. He looked at the turkey in the center of the table, then at his son's tightly scrunched face, and immediately wore an expression of deep sympathy. Clearing his throat, he tried to plead on behalf of his son—and himself:

"Ahem... Pella, darling, since our son really doesn't like turkey... do you think we could... have something else? Like roasted lamb chops? I remember Silas has always been going on about those..."

Before Anthony could finish, Pella shot him a sharp look, wearing a gentle yet unquestionable smile:

"Mr. Anthony Kirill, and Mr. Silas Cyril," she said, her gaze sweeping over father and son, "today is Christmas. The turkey on this table is tradition. Neither of you is allowed to run away! You will both sit down and finish the turkey on your plates!"

Her tone carried the authority of the head of the household. There was clearly no room for negotiation.

Silas and his father Anthony exchanged glances, and both saw the despair of inevitable doom in the other's eyes. Anthony shrugged helplessly and mouthed to Silas, "Accept your fate, son."

With a miserable face, Silas reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat down, watching his mother Pella skillfully carve the enormous "roasted wood" with knife and fork. He was already wondering how he could secretly feed the turkey on his plate to the family cat later, or... perhaps simply open another portal and throw the meat into the Hogwarts kitchens?

This Christmas, Silas's "greatest challenge" might not have been the Dark Lord, but the roasted turkey on the table, which symbolized "tradition" and was, in his eyes, nearly impossible to swallow. Sometimes, the oppressive "warmth" of family was even harder to resist than magic.

After spending several days at home being "forced" to enjoy familial warmth and "roasted wood" turkey, Silas finally found an excuse and slipped back through a portal to the relatively "free" Hogwarts Castle. The castle was especially quiet during the Christmas holiday, with only a handful of students remaining.

He had barely arrived at the castle when Harry Potter rushed in, looking mysterious and unable to contain his excitement.

"Silas! You're back! That's great!" Harry lowered his voice, but he could not hide the excitement in his tone. "I found an incredibly magical mirror! It's in an empty classroom!"

Silas lazily raised his eyelids. "A mirror? What kind of mirror? Does it show how excited you are right now?"

"It's not an ordinary mirror!" Harry explained eagerly. "It's called the Mirror of Erised! It can show you what you desire most in your heart! I saw my parents in it! They were right beside me!"

Silas's previously indifferent expression froze the instant he heard the words "what you desire most in your heart." He abruptly sat upright, a sharp glint of curiosity and inquiry flashing through his eyes.

What he desired most in his heart?

That description was like a key, instantly unlocking a corner of his heart that even he had never seriously considered. He came from another world, possessed memories of two utterly different lives, and wielded immense power that did not belong to this world... What did he truly desire most, deep down? To return to the peaceful research life of the past? To completely master Vishanti's ultimate power? Or... to find a true sense of belonging and meaning in this magical world?

Even he found the answer to that question vague and intriguing.

"Take me there." Silas's voice held an unquestionable urgency. He stood up and brushed off his robes. "Right now."

Harry was startled by Silas's sudden change in attitude, but he was delighted to see him so interested. "All right! Follow me!"

Under cover of night, the two quietly slipped out of the common room and made their way through the empty castle corridors. Harry led Silas to the door of an abandoned classroom.

"It's in there." Harry pushed open the door.

The classroom was empty. Only a grand mirror with an ornate golden frame leaned against the farthest wall. A line was carved above it: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. (If the words are rearranged backwards, they read: I show not your face but your heart's desire.)

Silas took a deep breath and slowly walked to stand directly before the mirror. Somewhat nervous yet expectant, he raised his head and looked into the glass.

At first, the mirror reflected his present appearance: dressed in deep blue mage robes, draped in a dark red cloak, with slightly messy light brown hair.

But in the next instant, the image in the mirror began to twist and change...

Silas held his breath, staring unblinkingly at the mirror as he waited for the answer to be revealed. The Mirror of Erised would show him the truest desire buried in the depths of his soul.