Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The sky churned with an unnatural, swirling mist, a foreboding sign of impending doom. Loose stones rolled across the ground, and heavy clouds shrouded the moon, leaving not a trace of light or hope.

Professor Olsivia, the Transfiguration teacher, stumbled toward the Hogwarts castle, clutching her arm. Cold sweat drenched her forehead, her arm bent grotesquely into three sections, and her left calf was fractured.

As she approached the hunting grounds, she collapsed to the ground. The searing pain in her body made it nearly impossible to move, yet her mind was uncharacteristically clear.

For some reason, she thought of her father, imagining how he must have looked when fleeing across the icy Siberian tundra.

This was perhaps the lowest point of her life, yet also the moment she felt she truly understood the essence of life.

For so long, she had been consumed by the suffering her family endured, unable to escape the shadow of that pain. She had tried to imagine bearing their burdens herself, fantasizing that she could shoulder their agony.

But now, as she experienced her own torment, she realized something far more important than pain.

Purpose.

She thought of her father, Konstantin, and how he had pursued his purpose until his dying breath.

Compared to a life with purpose, external suffering seemed almost trivial.

A life with purpose does not fear pain. Staring at the illuminated castle in the distance, she suddenly felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The ghosts of her family, long haunting her, burned away in her heart, transforming into strength that propelled her forward.

She had to deliver the message about the resurrection of the first headmaster.

Inside Hogwarts, Miranda and Aglaea were hauling heavy trunks as they followed a group of students out of the castle. Stepping outside, they were greeted by a swirling, debris-filled sky.

Miranda halted abruptly, grabbing Aglaea and narrowing her eyes. "Do you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Aglaea asked.

Miranda slowly removed her glasses, her soft features hardening like a blade.

"The same as the day school started—a suffocating, terrifying, chaotic madness. Something is here, trying to break free. Something unspeakably dreadful."

Aglaea quickly caught on. "The Half-King? Or you?"

"I'm not joking," Miranda said coldly, turning to face her. "Do you have any mana-replenishing potions?"

"No, I forgot to bring any," Aglaea admitted.

"None at all?"

Miranda's arm trembled slightly as she suppressed her anxiety. "You don't understand—Hoffa with mana is like a dragon, but without it, he's as useless as a Muggle!"

Aglaea stomped her foot. "How was I supposed to know he'd suddenly get up after lying in bed for a month and go chasing after the Half-King? There was no warning at all!"

"Damn it," Miranda cursed, stopping in her tracks at the doorway.

After a moment's thought, Aglaea asked, "What now? Should we go help him?"

"How? We don't even know where he is!"

Miranda's expression darkened further.

Suddenly, Aglaea froze, then pushed Miranda urgently. "Look!"

Following Aglaea's gaze, Miranda lifted her head and saw a figure stumbling out of the black mist. It was the Transfiguration teacher, wearing a tattered green robe and dragging her injured leg.

"Professor Romanoff?"

Miranda frowned, pulling Aglaea along as they hurried forward.

"Are you Hoffa's friends? What are you doing here?" Olsivia asked.

Aglaea replied, "We're helping the school move things. Everyone's evacuating tomorrow."

Her eyes fell on Olsivia's injured arm and leg, and she gasped. "Professor, what happened to you?"

Miranda crouched down without a word, her fingers pressing gently against Olsivia's fractured calf as she chanted a healing spell under her breath.

Olsivia winced from the pain, her face twitching, but her voice remained steady.

"Quickly, find Dumbledore and send him to the Black Lake immediately."

"What happened?" Miranda asked.

"Hoffa is in danger," Olsivia said firmly. "The true Half-King is beneath the Black Lake."

Miranda's hand froze mid-motion.

Aglaea sucked in a sharp breath. "What did you say? Are you serious?"

"Enough," Miranda interrupted. "Where is Dumbledore?"

Aglaea hesitated. "I don't know. I heard the headmasters and the Ministry have a meeting tonight. Maybe we should find the Minister of Magic."

"No, we need to find Dumbledore," Miranda rejected the suggestion.

Aglaea grew agitated. "Miranda, this is about Hoffa's life! The school is barely functioning. We need someone who can take charge!"

"Hey, the school hasn't collapsed yet!" Miranda snapped, gripping Aglaea's shoulder. "Do you really think the Ministry will believe you? They'll do nothing, and they might even hope to see the school destroyed!"

"Stop arguing," Olsivia said weakly.

"This is too urgent for any one person to handle. You two, split up and gather everyone you can find. Don't let the crowd scatter."

"And you?" Miranda asked.

"I'll notify the Aurors to protect the students and move them to safety."

"Got it."

Miranda nodded at Aglaea, and the two ran off in opposite directions.

However, they hadn't gone far when a sudden flash of light illuminated their faces. They froze, looking toward the Black Lake. A towering orange-red mushroom cloud rose into the sky.

Two seconds later, a deafening explosion followed, shaking the ground violently. Glass shattered from the castle's towers, and the two girls instinctively crouched.

"What the hell is going on?" Aglaea asked.

Olsivia's face turned pale. "Quick, find cover."

In the tenth-floor headmaster's meeting room, high above Hogwarts, the air shimmered faintly with silver frost. A gleaming, magical phoenix rested on the conference table, seemingly dozing.

The four house heads sat on one side of the table, their expressions grave.

At the head of the table sat a bald, sharp-featured man in a black robe with a red scarf. Holding a parchment, he signed document after document with a swift hand.

This was Leonard Spencer-Moon, who had been Minister of Magic for roughly six months.

Behind him stood two towering Aurors, each over two meters tall. Behind them loomed three dark, cloaked figures, their heads nearly brushing the ceiling.

The cloaked figures floated silently, their tattered robes swaying despite the still air. Beneath the fabric, decayed, pale arms occasionally became visible.

Here and there, faint wisps of ethereal matter drifted toward the cloaks.

They were Dementors.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was icy and oppressive.

The red-scarfed, sharp-featured middle-aged man finished signing the documents with swift strokes, then pushed the parchment across the polished table. Interlocking his fingers, he glanced across the table and said calmly, "Sign it, Albus. Once you're done, we can proceed with the student evacuation plan."

Albus Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and replied softly, "Leonard, I think we should wait for now."

"What's there to wait for?" Leonard Spencer-Moon, dressed in black robes and seated as the Minister of Magic, frowned. "The war in Europe is intensifying. I don't have time for unnecessary delays."

Dumbledore looked at the stack of papers and said, "The designated evacuation is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

Leonard responded impatiently, "Wouldn't sooner be better? Or are you still hoping for a miracle to happen?"

As he spoke, the three towering Dementors standing behind him seemed to stiffen, their skeletal chests rising as if to draw something in. But at the table, the silver Phoenix perched on the surface merely lifted its head slightly. Immediately, the Dementors sank back into themselves, subdued.

Coughing lightly, Dumbledore remarked, "The law grants me a certain amount of time for consideration. I would like to use that time... to hope for a miracle."

Leonard took a sip of coffee and leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Albus, we've known each other for many years, so I won't mince words. This is meaningless. The Education Decree has already been signed. The fate of this school is no longer in your hands."

"Rules are made by people, and this world, after all, is a world of people," Dumbledore replied, gazing out the window. "If I can, I prefer to hold on to hope."

"Enough!" Leonard slammed his hands on the table and stood abruptly. "Life is not a philosophical debate, Albus—"

A sudden flash of light interrupted him mid-sentence.

Turning his head sharply toward the window, Leonard's eyes widened as a fiery glow lit up the distant horizon. Albus Dumbledore also stood up abruptly, his expression grave. Even the silver Phoenix on the table raised its head sharply, as if sensing the urgency.

The glassware on the table began to vibrate ominously.

Dumbledore wasted no time issuing orders:

"Horace, head to the Great Hall immediately and evacuate the students to the deepest Slytherin dungeon.

"Melis, gather all the prefects and come with me. Activate the school's emergency shield."

The Minister of Magic's voice rose in alarm: "What's going on!?"

Even as he spoke, the booming roar of explosions echoed from the distance. Flames fully illuminated the meeting room, and the three Dementors recoiled slightly, drifting further back into the shadows.

Dumbledore pushed the door open, turning his head briefly to say with urgency, "If you don't want to die at Hogwarts, bring your Aurors and come with me!"

In the Mirror World.

Waves churned violently on the surface of the water as an eruption of fire lit up the sky. Hoffa was sprawled on the lake's surface, gripping Sylby tightly by the collar as he roared, "What have you done!?"

"You should ask yourself what you've chosen," Sylby laughed maniacally. "First this world, then the other. You, me, Hogwarts' teachers, students—none of us will escape."

Hoffa's grip tightened around Sylby's neck, his heart pounding like a war drum.

"Are you planning to drag the entire school down with you!?"

Sylby shook his head. "Life isn't just about calculations, my boy; it's also about luck. I've done everything I could. If I must die, I'll die in my role. This is the rule I created—"

Hoffa's trembling fingers loosened their grip. Forcing himself to calm down, he realized he couldn't leave Sylby behind. He still needed him to clear Armando's name. But staying here was equally unthinkable; if Hogwarts was destroyed, everything Hoffa had worked for would be meaningless.

Clenching his teeth, Hoffa grabbed Sylby's leg, picked up the Hogwarts Orb, and began running with all his might. As he ran, massive metallic wings unfolded from his back, propelling him forward with lightning speed.

With a deafening roar, he leaped high into the fiery inferno above the lake and plunged into its waters.

Back in the Real World.

The world above was already a sea of flames. Explosions tore through the air, rushing toward the heart of Hogwarts. The force of the blast was akin to ten thousand tons of TNT detonating, leaving Hoffa struggling to breathe. The oxygen in the air had been sucked away, and the temperature soared to unbearable levels.

Holding his breath, Hoffa flapped his wings furiously, shooting like a bolt of lightning toward the castle.

Suspended above the castle's hunting grounds, he halted abruptly and turned.

A cacophony of violent explosions rumbled in the distance. In the Forbidden Forest, trees were hurled skyward. The fortifications built by the Aurors at the start of the term had been reduced to fragmented rubble, scattered amid the raging inferno.

Twisting his head, Hoffa heard the shrill screams of students echoing from the castle. Terrified and disoriented, they crowded the windows and doorways, running in all directions.

Professors, led by Osivia, rushed out of the castle alongside prefects, attempting to conjure protective shields in midair.

"Look at them," Sylby sneered from above, pointing with a single hand at the panicked crowd below. "Don't they look like a flock of sheep?"

(End of Chapter)

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