Questioning

At the dinner table, the atmosphere looked harmonious on the surface, but undercurrents churned beneath. The Dursleys went all out to display their "respectable" life. Vernon kept boasting about Grunnings and its drill orders, while Petunia showed off her spotless house and exquisite food. Mr. Anthony Kirill wore a fake business smile, barely enduring it, wanting only for this ordeal to end quickly.

To curry favor with this "important guest," Dudley pulled out all the stops. He swallowed a huge mouthful of roast meat and said to Anthony with his greasy mouth, "Mr. Kirill, did you know? Once, our teacher asked us to write an essay called 'The Person I Admire Most,' and I wrote about you! I said you started from nothing and were a role model in the business world!"

Anthony's mouth twitched, and he forced out a faint smile. "Uh... thank you, kid..." But what he was really thinking was, Do I even know you? You probably don't even know what my company does.

Just as this false harmony reached its peak, something changed abruptly!

Near the grand crystal chandelier on the dining room ceiling, the air suddenly warped! Then a large plate of wobbling pink pudding topped with a dollop of cream seemed to appear out of nowhere and came crashing straight toward Anthony Kirill's head!

"Watch out!" Silas reacted with incredible speed. He did not even look up. Relying solely on his awareness of magical fluctuations, he instantly reached out and caught the plate steadily and precisely when it was only inches above his father's head! The cream wobbled, but not a single drop spilled.

The entire thing happened in a flash!

Startled, Anthony jerked backward and nearly fell off his chair. "Fuck!" he blurted out. Still shaken, he stared blankly at the pudding in his son's hand, then at the ceiling.

Silas's expression darkened at once. He stared coldly at the patch of air where the pudding had appeared and growled, each word deliberate:

"Dobby..."

He understood immediately! This was the House-elf Dobby's doing! It wanted to stop Harry from returning to Hogwarts, but it had nearly injured Mr. Anthony!

"You dared throw pudding at my dad?" Silas's voice brimmed with dangerous fury. "Are you fucking tired of living?"

The Dursleys were stunned by this sudden "falling object from the sky" incident. Vernon's face turned liver-colored, Petunia let out a sharp scream, and Dudley stood there gaping. Seeing Anthony's frightened expression and Silas's murderous look, Vernon's heart sank. It's over! This deal... is probably ruined!

Silas paid no attention to the flustered Dursleys. He shot to his feet and strode out of the dining room, charging straight for the second floor! Instinctively, he knew where Harry would be locked up—the smallest spare bedroom!

Bang!!

He kicked open the thin, locked door with all his strength!

The room was small and dark. Harry Potter was sitting on the bed, wearing an expression of helpless resignation, as though he had expected this all along.

"Silas," Harry sighed, "I heard your voice..."

Silas had no time to catch up. He pointed downstairs and demanded furiously:

"Potter! What the fuck is going on?! First, you didn't reply to my letters for a month—I'll settle that score with you later! Second, right now! Immediately! Tell me where that bastard House-elf who threw pudding at my dad is!"

Harry was startled by Silas's accusatory manner and hurriedly explained, "Wait! Silas! Your letters! It wasn't that I didn't reply to the letters you sent me—they never reached me at all! That House-elf named Dobby intercepted them! It stole every letter sent to me!"

Silas froze for a moment, and his anger eased slightly. He stared into Harry's eyes, confirming that he was not lying. If Dobby had intercepted the letters, then Harry's "disappearance" was indeed understandable. His main target immediately shifted from Harry to that troublemaking little elf.

"All right," Silas said, his tone softening somewhat. "That explanation convinces me. Looks like that little bastard Dobby is the culprit... He's gone now, but he'll definitely show himself again."

He glanced at the cramped, shabby room, which was not even as good as the Dursleys' cupboard, then thought of the hypocritical family downstairs and immediately made a decision.

"Don't stay in this dump," Silas said decisively. "Go to Ron's house. Judging by my dad's expression, this deal with the Dursleys is definitely dead. Once we leave, you won't have it easy staying here. You'll suffer plenty from the Dursleys' anger."

Without giving Harry time to hesitate, he raised his hand and drew a circle in the air! Golden sparks burst forth, and a stable portal instantly opened in Harry's room! On the other side appeared the distinctive kitchen of The Burrow, crooked and ramshackle yet full of life. They could even hear Mrs. Weasley's nagging and the clatter of pots and pans!

"There. Go straight through." Silas pointed at the portal.

Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of the portal leading to The Burrow! The temptation to leave the Dursleys at once and go to his real "home" was simply too great!

But he glanced at the trunk by the foot of his bed and Hedwig's empty cage—Hedwig had gone out hunting—and hesitated. "But my things..."

"Stop whining!" Silas cut him off impatiently. "I'll carry your luggage! You go through first! Move!"

Harry hesitated no longer. He gave Silas a grateful look, took a deep breath, and stepped into the golden portal! His figure instantly vanished into The Burrow's kitchen.

After watching Harry leave safely, Silas casually closed the portal. He easily picked up Harry's battered old trunk, then took Hedwig's empty cage in his other hand.

"Done." He nodded in satisfaction, then turned and headed downstairs, preparing to have a "proper talk" with the Dursleys about that House-elf throwing pudding around. And while he was at it... he would completely wreck his father's already doomed business deal.

For Silas, the way to solve a problem had always been the most direct and effective one. Harry's summer misery ended early because of this friend who never played by the rules.