Christmas

As Christmas approached, Hogwarts Castle was filled with a festive atmosphere, yet it also felt somewhat empty due to the holiday break. Most students had gone home for the holidays, leaving only a handful behind, including Harry Potter, and... Silas, who seemed to have nowhere else to go.

In the common room (Silas had wandered over to Gryffindor again to mooch off their warmth), Harry absently fiddled with a wizard chess piece and asked Silas, who was dozing on a sofa by the fireplace, "Silas, for the Christmas holidays... are you going back?"

Without opening his eyes, Silas replied lazily, "Does it make a difference to me whether I go back or not?" As he spoke, he casually opened a portal next to him, reached inside (it looked like some kind of snack pantry), pulled out a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, and closed the portal. "Anyway, I can go wherever I want, and take whatever I want."

Harry watched this magical display. Although he had seen it many times, he still found it incredible. He swallowed, remembered something more important, lowered his voice, and said to Silas with the excitement and nervousness of sharing a huge secret, "Silas! I have something very important to tell you! I discovered Snape—Professor Snape—he actually wants to steal that thing in the forbidden fourth-floor area! And during the last Quidditch match, he not only didn't stop it, but he and Quirrell tried to harm me! They're working together!"

Upon hearing this, Silas finally opened his eyes and looked at Harry with an extremely peculiar expression, his mind screaming internally:

(Internal monologue: This kid... does he misunderstand me? Does he really think he's so exceptionally talented that he can withstand the curses of two adult wizards simultaneously, and still hang on to a madly spinning broom without falling off? Did he borrow his confidence from a troll?)

But on his face, he showed just the right amount of surprise and agreement, playing along with Harry's words. "What? Really? That's terrible! Then what are you waiting for? Go tell Professor Dumbledore!"

With Silas's "support," Harry became even more convinced of his idea and nodded vigorously. "Yes! I'll go find Professor Dumbledore right now! We must stop Snape!"

Watching Harry's hasty retreat from the common room, Silas lay back down on the sofa, popped a Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Bean with a strange taste (like earwax, it seemed) into his mouth, shook his head helplessly, and continued his internal monologue:

(Internal monologue: Parents murdered when he was young, left a huge inheritance, lives in a place that isn't really his home, full of a sense of justice but also a bit suspicious... Tsk, this kid is practically the Bruce Wayne of the wizarding world! But then again, this isn't entirely his fault for imagining things.)

Silas's gaze sharpened as he recalled Snape's constant torment and humiliation of Harry in Potions Class.

(Internal monologue: Snape is indeed sick! Even if he has a grudge against Harry's father, he shouldn't take it out on the child! Any halfway decent professor wouldn't publicly and continuously bully their students like that! Just based on his behavior, Harry suspecting him of wanting to steal the Philosopher's Stone and harm people is completely reasonable! He deserves to be seen as the villain!)

Silas didn't have a good impression of Snape. Although he knew Snape was on Dumbledore's side, his malice towards students, especially his intimidation of Neville, made Silas very unhappy.

"Forget it," Silas mumbled, opening another portal to get a cup of pumpkin juice. "Let them fuss. Old Bee will handle it anyway. I should think about what kind of feast to have for Christmas..."

On Christmas Day, Silas eventually returned home to London through a portal. Although he didn't have high hopes for Hogwarts' Christmas dinner, the atmosphere at home was always warm.

An enticing aroma wafted from the kitchen. His mother, Pella, wearing an apron, was taking a giant turkey, roasted to a golden crisp, out of the oven and placing it in the center of the dining table covered with a white tablecloth. The table was already laden with various side dishes: roasted potatoes, cranberry sauce, Brussels sprouts, gravy, and more, looking incredibly abundant.

"Silas! Dear! The turkey is ready! Come and try it!" Pella, her face beaming with holiday joy, called to her son.

Silas walked to the dining table and looked at the giant turkey, his face contorted in extreme pain and resistance, as if he were looking at a torture device instead of a delicacy.

"Turkey? Help me, Mom!" Silas wailed. "Turkey meat is dry and tough, it's no different from gnawing on roasted wood! Why do we have to eat this every year?"

Pella looked at her son's expression, both amused and exasperated. She gently patted his head with an oven-mitted hand. "It's a Christmas tradition, darling! A Christmas feast isn't complete without turkey! And I roasted this one for a long time, I promise it's juicy. Just try it!"

Just then, his father, Anthony, came over, drawn by the commotion. He saw the giant turkey in the center of the table and then looked at his son's scrunched-up face, immediately showing a look of shared suffering. He cleared his throat, attempting to advocate for his son (and himself).

"Ahem... Pella, dear, since our son really dislikes turkey... maybe we could... have something else? Like roast lamb? I remember Silas always talking about that..."

Before Anthony could finish, Pella shot him a look, her smile gentle yet unyielding.

"Mr. Anthony Kirill, and you, Mr. Silas Kirill," her gaze swept over father and son, "Today is Christmas. The turkey on the table is tradition. Neither of you is allowed to run away! You must sit down and finish the turkey on your plates!"

Her tone carried the authority of the head of the household, leaving no room for negotiation.

Silas and his father Anthony exchanged glances, seeing the despair of "doomed" in each other's eyes. Anthony shrugged helplessly and mouthed to Silas, "Resign yourself, son."

Silas, with a crestfallen face, reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat down, watching his mother Pella skillfully carve the enormous "roasted wood" with a knife and fork. He was already mentally planning how to secretly feed the turkey meat on his plate to the family cat later, or... perhaps open another portal and toss the meat into the Hogwarts kitchen?

This Christmas, Silas's "greatest challenge" might not be the Dark Lord, but the "roasted wood" turkey symbolizing "tradition" on the table, which he found indigestible. The "oppressive feeling" of family "warmth" was sometimes harder to resist than magic.

After a few days at home, "forced" to enjoy family warmth and "roasted wood" turkey, Silas finally found an excuse and used a portal to slip back to the relatively "free" Hogwarts Castle. The castle was exceptionally quiet during the Christmas break, with very few students remaining.

As soon as he arrived, Harry Potter rushed in, looking mysterious and unable to contain his excitement.

"Silas! You're back! That's great!" Harry whispered, but his excitement was palpable. "I found a very magical mirror! It's in an empty classroom!"

Silas lazily raised an eyelid. "A mirror? What kind of mirror? Can 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 the mirror! They were right beside me!"

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

What you desire most in your heart?

This description, like a key, instantly unlocked a corner of his heart that he hadn't even deeply considered. He came from another world, possessed memories of two vastly different lives, and wielded powerful abilities that didn't belong in this world... What did he truly desire deep down? Was it to return to his stable research life in the past? To fully master the ultimate power of Vishanti? Or... to find true belonging and meaning in this magical world?

Even he felt vague and curious about the answer to this question.

"Take me there," Silas's voice carried an undeniable urgency. He stood up and patted his robes. "Now."

Harry was startled by Silas's sudden change in attitude, but seeing his interest, he was also happy. "Okay! Follow me!"

Under the cover of night, the two of them quietly slipped out of the common room and traversed the empty castle corridors. Harry led Silas to the door of a disused classroom.

"It's inside," Harry pushed the door open.

The classroom was empty, except for a very grand mirror with an ornate golden frame, leaning against the wall at the far end. Above the mirror was an inscription: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. (Rearranging the words spells: I show not your face, but your heart's desire.)

Silas took a deep breath and slowly walked directly in front of the mirror. He looked up at the mirror surface, a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

In the mirror, his current appearance was reflected first: wearing a dark blue mage robe, a crimson cloak, and slightly messy light brown hair.

But in the next second, the image in the mirror began to distort, to change...

Silas held his breath, his eyes fixed on the mirror surface, waiting for the answer to be revealed. The Mirror of Erised would show him the truest desire of his soul.