Claws of Denak

Dumbledore disappeared into the emerald green flames of the Floo Network, and the office instantly fell silent, leaving only the faint snores of the portraits (difficult to tell if they were real or fake) and the occasional rustle of Fawkes preening its feathers. Silas was left alone in the vast Headmaster's office, feeling both novel and a little out of sorts.

He waited for a few minutes, confirming that Dumbledore wouldn't be back anytime soon. The excitement and nervousness from arriving at Hogwarts gradually subsided, replaced by an urge to "do something." The encounter tonight had repeatedly reminded him how much trouble a lack of control could cause.

"Alright, when in Rome, do as the Romans do," he said. He jumped down from the comfortable chair and found a relatively open corner, away from the seemingly precious silverware and trinkets. "Let's practice!"

He took a deep breath, concentrated, and recalled the feeling of opening a portal. He raised his hands, his fingertips tracing patterns in the air, guiding the arcane energy originating from the Vishanti.

"Crackle... Sizzle..."

Golden sparks burst forth again, but this time they were a bit more stable than before. A portal about a meter in diameter slowly took shape before him. Although the edges still flickered, the scene within was much clearer—it was the office he had just seen, just from a slightly different angle. He had successfully opened a "door-to-door" portal within the room.

"Hmm, progress," Silas nodded, closing the portal, which had little practical use. He tried again, this time concentrating on imagining the scene outside the Hogwarts gates.

Sparks leaped, and the portal opened again. Opposite him was the dark night sky and the blurry outline of the distant castle, but the position seemed a bit too high, and it was extremely unstable, only lasting two or three seconds before dissipating.

"No, the accuracy and stability are too poor," Silas frowned, critiquing his performance like a strict coach. He practiced over and over, opening and closing it, adjusting the energy output, the precision of his hand gestures, and the focus of his mental energy each time.

After an unknown amount of time, he felt a mental exhaustion, like running a marathon. He slumped to the floor, looking at his fingertips, which were slightly warm from continuously channeling energy, and couldn't help but wail in his mind:

"System, oh system, are there really no Time Stones or anything like that for me to cheat and level up? Like, a time loop I could practice in until I'm sick of it!" He deeply missed the move Doctor Strange used against Dormammu.

[No! Don't even think about it!] the system's reply was decisive, [The laws of time are not something you can touch right now. Be careful not to destroy yourself! Taking it step by step is the way to go!]

Silas pouted, "I'm going to be the Sorcerer Supreme in the future! This progress is too slow?"

[That's why you're already very fast, young man!] the system's tone shifted to encouragement, [Look at your results! Portal proficiency has greatly increased, and it has stably risen to LV2! And due to the overall experience increase, congratulations, you have successfully unlocked two basic skills on the second level of Vishanti Origin!]

As the system spoke, the semi-transparent skill tree interface in front of Silas automatically expanded. Indeed, above "Portal (LV2)," two new nodes were lit up: one was a circular shield pattern made of golden light—the Ring of the Ragaddor; the other was a pattern of several missile-like shapes—the Claws of Denak.

"Oh? A shield and energy blasts!" Silas's spirits lifted. "Looks like you're too lazy to even say the full names of these two skills yourself..." He quipped, eager to try out the new skills.

He first focused his attention on the "Ring of the Ragaddor." Following the vague feeling transmitted from the skill tree and his memories from watching movies in his previous life, he clasped his hands together in front of his chest, then slowly pulled them apart, imagining energy forming a ring shape between his hands.

Hum--

A faint hum sounded, and golden light spread from his palms, quickly outlining a constantly rotating energy ring of complex geometric runes in front of his chest. The ring emitted a soft and stable glow.

However, Silas couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth as he looked at the formed magic shield.

This Ring of the Ragaddor... was only about thirty centimeters in diameter, like a delicate little magic plate. It was far from covering his whole body, and barely covered his chest.

"So tiny..." Silas's face was covered in black lines. The gap between this and the cool, large round shield that could block ferocious attacks, as he had imagined, was too vast. "What can this thing block? An attack from a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean?"

[Be content!] the system said irritably, [The beginner version you just unlocked is like this! Energy control, shield strength, and size all need practice and improvement! So, quickly practice this Ring of the Ragaddor! Once it's strong enough and big enough, the next one to unlock, 'Shield of Seraphim,' will be a large one! Like a wall! That's the true defensive spell!]

Silas sighed, but he also understood the system's point. He dispersed the mini ring and began to try condensing it again. This time, he tried to inject more energy, attempting to enlarge it.

The ring trembled, expanding to forty centimeters in diameter, but its light became uneven, and its edges began to blur, clearly unstable.

"Alright, the road ahead is long and arduous..." Silas resignedly began to repeatedly practice condensing, maintaining, expanding, and dissipating the Ring of the Ragaddor. In the office, the mini golden shield lit up and extinguished again and again, reflecting the curious (and perhaps amused) gazes of the portraits on the wall.

He occasionally tried the "Claws of Denak," but could only manage to shoot a few dim, slow-moving golden particles from his fingertips, with power comparable to a child throwing pebbles.

The practice was tedious and draining, but Silas could clearly feel his control over this energy strengthening bit by bit. This tangible sense of progress diluted the tedium and fatigue.

Just as he successfully stabilized the Ring of the Ragaddor at forty centimeters in diameter for nearly ten seconds again, the flames in the office fireplace flared up once more, turning emerald green.

Dumbledore stepped out of the flames, a gentle smile on his face as always. He glanced at Silas, who had a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead but bright eyes, then at the faint residual golden energy in the air that hadn't completely dissipated. He smiled and asked, "It seems our little guest hasn't wasted any time. Has your practice gone smoothly, Mr. Kirill?"

"Headmaster, you're back just in time!" Silas said excitedly, like a child eager to show off a new toy. "Take a look at this, how is it?"

Before he finished speaking, he raised his hand, pointed at a sturdy-looking low stone pedestal in a corner of the office, which seemed to be used for holding heavy books, concentrated, and recalled the feeling from his recent practice.

"Claws of Denak!"

A golden particle, only the size of a glass marble, with a slightly flickering light, slowly flew out from his fingertip, tracing a somewhat weak arc towards the stone pedestal. It finally landed softly on the surface of the pedestal with a faint "poof," like a weak little bubble popping, dissipating into the air without leaving a trace.

Silas: "..."

Dumbledore: "..."

A subtle silence fell over the office. Even the Headmaster portraits on the wall, who had been pretending to snore, couldn't help but secretly open their eyes.

Silas's face instantly fell, and he awkwardly scratched his head. "Uh... it seems... the power needs further improvement."

Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly, as if he struggled to suppress a chuckle. He cleared his throat and said in the most gentle, un-discouraging tone possible, "A very... interesting magical effect, Mr. Kirill. It is full of... well... potential."

He walked over to Silas, looked at the unharmed stone pedestal, and changed the subject, with the patience of an elder guiding a junior. "However, from my personal humble opinion—of course, I have limited understanding of your unique Vishanti magic system—but I think you might have been a little... jumpy in your learning order?"

He pointed at the faint traces of spatial fluctuations remaining in the air from frequent portal practice. "Portals, magic involving spatial folding and positioning, are clearly more complex and profound than this... 'shooting sparks.' And you can already use it unstably. That's remarkable, but it might also mean your foundation needs to be more solid."

Silas listened, with a helpless expression of "you ask me, who do I ask?" He shrugged. "Then I don't know how Master Ancient One's mind works... When she taught Strange, it seemed to be in a similar order?" He was purely bluffing based on movie memories.

"Ancient One?" Dumbledore keenly caught the unfamiliar name, a flicker of intense curiosity in his blue eyes. "Who is this 'Master Ancient One'?"

Silas's heart skipped a beat. He realized he'd made a mistake! The Ancient One didn't exist in this world. Just as he was about to make up an excuse, he suddenly felt that familiar, gentle probing sensation sweep across the surface of his mind again, more pronounced and deeper than before!

Dumbledore, clearly intrigued by the mysterious mentor who could teach Silas (and the "Doctor Strange" he mentioned), instinctively wanted to know more.

"Hey!" Silas yelped, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and clutched his head with both hands. Although this action was useless against Legilimency, it fully expressed his protest and dissatisfaction. "No looking! We agreed not to pry into people's memories! This is an invasion of privacy! You old cheater!"

In his panic, he even blurted out the nickname he had given Dumbledore in his mind.

"Insolent!" A sharp reprimand suddenly came from the wall. Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, wearing his curly silver wig and with his usual stern expression, sat up straighter in his portrait. He glared at Silas through his monocle. "What is the meaning of this, you rude boy? How dare you shout at Albus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office? Where is your upbringing?!"

Silas was already angry, and being yelled at by this meddling portrait, he retorted without thinking, "Black, you dead man, shut up! What kind of skill is it to sit in a frame and boss people around? If you've got the guts, come out and hit me!"

His tone was extremely impolite.

Phineas Black was so choked he turned green, pointing at Silas and stuttering "You... you... you..." for a long time, so angry he almost fainted from his frame. A few suppressed chuckles came from the other portraits; clearly, Phineas wasn't very popular, alive or painted.

Dumbledore finally couldn't help himself this time, letting out a low chuckle. He raised his hand, signaling for both sides to calm down. "Alright, Phineas, thank you for your defense. And Mr. Kirill, I sincerely apologize for my momentary curiosity." He indeed withdrew that probing sensation, his eyes returning to a peaceful state. "I promise I won't try to sense your thoughts again. As for Master Ancient One, if you're unwilling to speak, I naturally won't force you."

Silas then slowly lowered the hand holding his head, but still looked at Dumbledore with wary eyes, muttering softly, "That's more like it..."

Dumbledore looked at the huffing Silas, then at Phineas still fuming on the wall, a knowing smile appearing on his face. This child was far more interesting than he had imagined. The secrets he held were likely more than just a different magical system.

"So," Dumbledore skillfully changed the subject, as if the small conflict had never happened, "let's talk business. I've already reached an agreement with your parents..."