Summer Vacation

In London, at the Kirill residence. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains onto the floor of Silas's bedroom. Silas Kirill was sprawled out on his soft, large bed, sleeping soundly and deeply, his breathing even and long, a satisfied smile even gracing his lips. His dark red Levitating Cloak lay over him like a living blanket, thoughtfully covering him, its collar gently tucked in.

His mother, Mrs. Pella Kirill, gently pushed the door open and peeked her head in. She looked at her son sleeping obliviously on the bed, a worried expression on her face. She walked to the bedside, bent down, and gently nudged Silas's shoulder, her voice soft and full of concern:

"Silas? Honey? You've been asleep for a full 17 hours... sleeping ever since you got back yesterday. Are you okay? Hey? Wake up, eat something, then go back to sleep?"

Silas showed no reaction, merely smacking his lips, turning over, burying his face deeper into the pillow, and continuing his sweet dream.

Mrs. Pella's brow furrowed even tighter. Just as she was about to call out again, suddenly—

One of the collars of the Levitating Cloak covering Silas silently and elegantly lifted, gently tapping Mrs. Pella's hand as if to reassure her.

At the same time, a gentle, calm, and slightly inhuman thought was directly transmitted into Mrs. Pella's mind:

[He is well, Madam. His magic is simply depleted, requiring deep slumber to recover. Please do not worry, let him wake naturally.]

Mrs. Pella was startled, looking at the "talking" cloak in surprise. She had known for a long time that this cloak was unusual and had a consciousness of its own, but this was the first time she had directly received its "words." She steadied herself, looking at the cloak's soothing movements and then at her son's face, which clearly showed peaceful sleep rather than pain. The weight on her heart slightly lessened.

She sighed, smiled helplessly, reached out to gently stroke the fabric of the cloak (its texture warm and strange), and said in a low voice, "Alright, then I'll trouble you to look after him. There's warm soup in the kitchen; remind him to drink it when he wakes up."

The collar of the Levitating Cloak nodded up and down again, indicating understanding.

Mrs. Pella glanced at her son one last time before quietly tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door.

Silence returned to the bedroom. The collar of the Levitating Cloak gently brushed Silas's forehead before settling back down quietly.

Silas unconsciously nuzzled the pillow in his sleep, the smile on his lips deepening. A year of "exciting" life at Hogwarts had drained his mind and magic. At this moment, nothing was more important than a long, peaceful "mana recovery" sleep in his safe home, on a comfortable bed. And the loyal Levitating Cloak would ensure his master was undisturbed.

Silas Kirill's first academic year at Hogwarts officially came to a close with this 17-hour (and likely longer) deep sleep. And new adventures and troubles would undoubtedly arrive on time next semester.

(A dividing line for word count)

On July 31st, Silas was sitting at the dining table, wolfing down the lavish breakfast his mother, Pella, had prepared (finally, no more turkey!).

His father, Mr. Anthony Kirill, said to Silas while reading the newspaper, "Silas, I have a business engagement tonight. Why don't you come with me?"

Silas, without looking up, vaguely refused, "No... business engagements are so boring. I want to catch up on sleep at home."

Anthony put down his newspaper and explained, "It's not just any business engagement. It's my partner, Mr. Mason. He's currently negotiating a large order for a drilling rig. The other party is a Mr. Dursley from Little Whinging, Surrey. Mr. Mason is a bit unsure about Mr. Dursley's character and wants me to help make contact and assess the other party's credibility."

"Surrey? Little Whinging? Dursley?" Silas's chewing abruptly stopped. He looked up, his eyes instantly lighting up, a mixed expression of surprise and "Finally caught you!" appearing on his face.

"Dursley?! The Dursley from Number 4 Privet Drive?!" Silas's voice rose an octave.

Anthony was startled by his son's reaction, "Uh... I think that's the address... How do you know?"

Silas slammed down his fork, his earlier languor vanishing, replaced by an eager excitement and a hint of... displeasure?

"Yes! We absolutely have to go!" Silas declared decisively, his tone even a bit teeth-gritting, "I was just planning to 'visit' that family!"

Anthony and Pella exchanged glances, not understanding why their son was suddenly so interested in a routine business meeting, and why his tone sounded unfriendly.

Silas stood up and began pacing the living room, muttering, "Harry Potter! That kid! It's been a whole month of holiday! I wrote him seven letters! He didn't reply to a single one! I thought he'd been taken by Dementors, or cornered by Voldemort at home again!"

He grew increasingly angry, "No! I have to go ask him in person! What's going on! Did the owl get lost? Or did his fat cousin intercept the letters again? Or... he's just too lazy to bother with me... Uh... definitely not... (OS: Let me think about the original plot...)"

Silas turned to his father, putting on a "friendly" smile, "Dad, I'll go to the business engagement with you tonight! I absolutely must meet that Mr. Dursley... and his family's 'guest'!"

Anthony looked at his son's "accusatory" demeanor, feeling a bit uneasy, sensing that tonight's "business meeting" might become... very unusual. But he still nodded, "Alright, then get ready. We'll drive over tonight."

Silas rubbed his hands together, eager for the evening to come so he could "visit" his "good friend" Harry Potter at Number 4 Privet Drive. A month of "no contact" absolutely required an explanation!

In the evening, a discreet but expensive black car stopped in front of the meticulously manicured house at Number 4 Privet Drive. Mr. Anthony Kirill, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, got out of the driver's seat, looking composed and capable. Silas, dressed in ordinary casual wear, reluctantly followed behind.

Before leaving, Silas had wanted to put on his signature Levitating Cloak, but Anthony sternly stopped him.

"Why can't I wear my cloak?" Silas grumbled discontentedly.

Anthony sighed and explained in a "you have to face reality" tone, "Silas, listen, we're visiting a normal Muggle family. In the eyes of Muggles—of course, I'm just a Muggle who knows about the wizarding world—wearing such an exaggerated cloak, like something out of a stage play, would just make people think you've escaped from a mental hospital! We need to maintain a low profile and... decorum."

Silas pouted. Though unwilling, he knew his father had a point and reluctantly left the cloak at home.

They walked to the door and rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately, as if the Dursley family had been waiting right behind it.

The person who opened the door was a boy so fat he almost filled the doorframe—Dudley Dursley. His face was plastered with a deliberately ingratiating but very stiff smile.

"Oh, good evening, gentlemen! Welcome, welcome!" Dudley said with exaggerated enthusiasm, extending his chubby hand. "Let me take your coats!"

Silas looked at Dudley's demeanor, feeling a surge of revulsion. He expressionlessly sidestepped Dudley's hand and said coldly, "No need."

Dudley's smile froze slightly, and he awkwardly retracted his hand.

Just then, Vernon Dursley's massive frame also appeared at the doorway. He too had a face full of smiles, but those smiles were filled with crassness and hypocrisy. He enthusiastically extended his hand to shake Anthony's, "Mr. Kirill! Welcome! Please come in! This is my wife, Petunia."

Petunia Dursley stood behind Vernon, a stiff smile squeezed onto her thin face, and said in a shrill voice, "Welcome! Please sit down! I'll get you some drinks!"

Anthony maintained a professional smile, shook Vernon's hand, and uttered polite phrases like "Sorry to bother you" and "Thank you." But Silas keenly noticed that his father's molars were clenched tightly, and a muscle in his temple twitched slightly.

(Anthony's inner monologue: God! This family! Their smiles are so fake, they're giving me goosebumps! And this house is so... so 'tidy,' suffocatingly tidy! It feels like walking into a wax museum!)

Silas watched his father struggling to maintain his composure and "decorum," finding it a bit amusing and a bit sympathetic. (Silas's inner monologue: Hang in there, Dad! You're a social elite! A business magnate! Bring out that persuasive aura you use at the negotiation table! Decorum! Decorum is most important!)

Under the overly enthusiastic escort of the Dursley family, the father and son walked into the meticulously decorated but lifeless living room. The air was filled with an uncomfortable, deliberately created atmosphere of a "perfect family."