Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The moment the students and dragons left, the crowd behind Hoffa erupted into chaos. Whistles echoed, some students stood on benches, tossing their hats into the air in celebration.

The noise felt unbearably grating to Hoffa, leaving him momentarily dazed.

Professor Bohan had tasked him with upholding fairness, yet somehow, he had become the center of the conflict.

William bounded over excitedly, leading a group of students. He grabbed Hoffa's arm and exclaimed, "Bach, you were amazing, absolutely amazing! From now on, just tell me what to do—I'll do anything! You're incredible!"

The fervor of the crowd engulfed Hoffa like a tide, isolating him as a lone island in the sea of chaos. He pushed William away, brushing off the outstretched hands of others. Their adoring gazes, tearful faces, and the girls overwhelmed with emotion felt like too much. It seemed as though, with a single command, these people would do anything for him.

But Hoffa felt none of the elation that should come with defeating an opponent. Instead, there was confusion and a growing sense of fear, one that threatened to drown him in the crowd's mania. The atmosphere was suffocating, leaving him uneasy and oppressed.

Why was he fighting in the first place?

Rain pattered relentlessly against the bat-shaped gargoyles atop the castle. This was late autumn rain—bitterly cold and piercing.

As the dragon taming team reached the hall's entrance, Aglaia glanced back at Hoffa, only to find him swallowed up by the ecstatic crowd, lost from sight.

The flickering candlelight inside the jack-o'-lanterns cast shifting shadows on her face, a blend of light and dark. Whether it was her imagination or the eerie atmosphere of Halloween, the school now felt like a den of chaos, where demons danced wildly.

It wasn't until Sherlock tugged her sleeve that she turned away, pressing her lips together and silently following the team into the rainy night.

The further they walked, the more unsettled Aglaia felt. She quickened her pace to catch up with Miranda and asked, "Don't you think there's something strange about the school's atmosphere?"

"Mm."

Miranda hummed a brief acknowledgment through her nose. "I feel like the entire school is being torn apart."

"Do you know what's going on?" Aglaia pressed.

"You're asking me? How would I know?" Miranda replied flatly. "Why don't you ask your father? Isn't he a professor too?"

Aglaia froze for a moment, her gaze shifting toward the tall, thin figure at the front of the group. Her lips twitched slightly.

After two months of accompanying the dragon taming team, the man who shared her last name, Drasses, had shown no special interest in her—not even sparing her a glance.

Over time, Aglaia began to doubt whether he was truly her father or even a member of her family at all.

When they reached a tall fir tree deep within the Forbidden Forest, Fatir halted. Turning back with an expressionless face, he watched as the group and their young dragons quickly gathered around. The students knew their professor was about to speak.

Sure enough, once everyone was seated with their dragons, Fatir lit a cigarette, exhaling a ring of smoke before addressing them in his cold, detached tone:

"This time, Headmaster Dippet summoned you back to the school without warning. I had assumed one of you would inform me, but no—you all just rushed back in such a frenzy.

"Why are you so thoughtless? Why didn't anyone notify me? Hmm?"

The students exchanged uncertain glances. Eventually, one boy stood up, scratching his head in confusion as he softly said, "I thought you knew, Professor. Besides, Headmaster Dippet wants us to set an example. What's wrong with that?"

"Set an example? Have you considered how the regular students feel?" Fatir asked, his brows furrowing. "And fighting in the hall—does that show any regard for rules?"

"But did they ever consider our feelings?" another boy retorted indignantly.

"We crossed the Black Lake, spent two months in the wild, eating in the open, living with dragons, constantly on edge. We've endured hardships no less than anyone else, so why don't they understand us?"

"It's understandable," Fatir said icily. "But they don't need to understand. All they need is an excuse to vent their anger over perceived injustices. You cannot give them that excuse."

"I..." The boy fell silent, unable to respond.

"There are only a dozen dragons here," Fatir continued. "Do you expect me to give one to every student in the school?"

"Tch." A student muttered under their breath, "It was just a sparring match. What's the big deal?"

"What did you say?"

Fatir's gaze darkened as he turned toward the speaker, a Gryffindor prefect with red hair and a sturdy build.

"I said, it was just a sparring match," the prefect said, stepping forward. "Sherlock didn't hurt anyone, and Bach wasn't serious either."

The students surrounding the prefect nodded in agreement, their expressions full of support.

"Exactly, it was just for fun."

"What's the point if we don't spar?"

"Professor, don't be upset. After raising dragons for so long, we need to learn how to fight alongside them!"

"Enough! Do you think this is a joke?"

The stern tone startled the young dragons. They hissed, releasing faint sparks from their nostrils.

Fatir's voice turned harsh: "Every war starts this way. It was true thirty years ago, and it's true now. Everyone thinks they can control conflict, keep it harmless. But once the beast of reality is unleashed, who can rein it in?!"

The students exchanged uneasy glances, falling silent.

Fatir continued, "Without stability, society will collapse. Without stability, everyone will be left struggling in the chaos of hell!"

At this, Sherlock stepped forward from the group. Reluctantly, he asked in a low voice, "Professor, even at the cost of our reputation, must we still maintain stability?"

"Even at the cost of everything, stability must be upheld," Fatir replied firmly.

Everyone lowered their heads, unwilling to argue further.

Aglaia glanced at her watch, her expression flickering with a hint of impatience. She couldn't pinpoint why, but she found Fatir's idealism excessive and far removed from reality.

The night grew silent.

Rain dripped steadily onto the leaves. Aglaia lay under a tree, staring blankly at the starry sky that emerged after the rain. Her fingers gently traced the scales of her Welsh Green Dragon, which breathed evenly beside her.

Looking over, she saw Miranda sleeping soundly by the campfire and then glanced at Fatir, sitting under another tree.

It was a rare moment of rest after a day of training.

Normally, Aglaia would have fallen asleep quickly.

But tonight, the image of Hoffa being swallowed by the crowd replayed in her mind, haunting her thoughts.

She recalled the speech Dumbledore had arranged for him at the start of the term and how tonight, he had been thrust into the spotlight again.

Aglaia had no idea what this meant, nor whether Hoffa could bear the immense pressure placed upon him.

She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

After nearly two hours of indecision, she got up and approached Fatir.

Standing under the tree for a long while, she took a deep breath and reached out tentatively to tap her father on the shoulder.

Before her fingers could touch him, Fatir opened his eyes and looked at her. His gaze held no particular emotion, only a sense of scrutiny.

"What is it?" Fatir asked calmly.

Aglaia withdrew her hand.

After a brief standoff, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a crumpled letter, and tossed it in front of Fatir.

Fatir glanced at the wrinkled paper, picked it up, and smoothed it out. It was a letter he had sent six months ago.

"The letter you wrote to my mother," Aglaia said coldly.

"And?"

Fatir folded the letter neatly and handed it back.

"What are you trying to say?"

Looking at the youthful face of the man before her, Aglaia felt an inexplicable surge of anger. Crossing her arms, she said, "I have questions."

"About dragons?"

"No. About you."

"What are you questioning?" Fatir asked, frowning faintly.

Taking a deep breath, Aglaia said, "I want to know why you didn't take Hoffa in. He had already crossed the Black Lake."

Fatir's eyes widened slightly as he studied his daughter carefully. After a long pause, he rested his head back and smiled faintly. "The dragon did not choose him."

"Couldn't you have taken him anyway? If you believe stability is above all else, he's an excellent choice. Even without a dragon, he could help you."

"I know," Fatir replied, closing his eyes.

"But some people cannot be taught. Some are destined from birth to walk a different path. Those people..."

His expression turned melancholic as he shook his head. "Those people, I dare not teach."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Go to bed early," Fatir said, crossing his arms over his stomach in a posture that suggested he was done talking.

Aglaia's face twitched with frustration as she looked at her father's indifferent and impatient demeanor. She turned away, returned to the campfire, and sat down to rest.

She wasn't particularly surprised by the outcome. Over the past two months, their interactions had never risen above this awkward and distant level. Truthfully, she had already given up on improving their relationship.

She didn't know how much time passed before sleep began to creep up on her. Normally, she would have drifted off easily, but tonight was different.

Despite her exhaustion, her body resisted sleep. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she found herself caught in a state between wakefulness and dreaming.

In her haze, she saw the other students around the campfire rising, their forms turning into blurry shadows whispering to one another. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was just a dream—all her classmates were still asleep.

After a while, the students silently got up again. She found it strange and, upon closer thought, realized it was still a dream. Just a dream within a dream.

Like this, she repeatedly became aware that she was dreaming, yet she couldn't wake up. Nor could she stop the dream.

In this cycle of dreams within dreams, she struggled desperately to awaken. Yet it felt as if a thousand-pound weight was pressing down on her chest, rendering her immobile.

Until a gentle humming reached her ears.

Song:

In the dead of night, the flock of birds falls silent,

Beasts slumber deep in the forest.

A dragon glides through the breeze,

Yet a tiny creature lies awake, too anxious to close its eyes,

Burdened by fears of the void, the spectral, and the unknown.

Oh, my little one, why are you so troubled?

The voice was ethereal, strange.

It gradually painted her mental world with dazzling colors, pulling her toward a warm, inviting cavern. The endless loop of dreams ceased, and she began to plummet downward, free from pain.

Was it real?

Aglaea suddenly bit her tongue. The taste of blood spread, and with immense willpower, she turned over and climbed up from the ground, returning to reality.

Her body was drenched in cold sweat, her hands and feet icy.

The chilly late autumn air coursed through her lungs, making her feel sharply awake.

She stood by the campfire, only to notice that beside the fire sat an array of small animals.

A honey badger, a field mouse, a cat, a rattlesnake.

Each of the animals shimmered with vibrant colors, looking striking yet devoid of vitality.

Their eyes stared unblinkingly into the darkness of the forest. Following their gaze, she saw a figure standing among the rain-soaked trees.

Young dragons surrounded the figure, encircling him like stars orbiting the moon, gazing at him with profound reverence, as if he were a celebrity worshiped by fervent fans.

Song:

"After a fleeting moment of brilliance,

The light fades into illusion.

Stars intertwine in the quiet night.

I shall leap beyond the edges of dreams,

To reach the boundless wilderness that awes all."

The figure stroked the trunk of a tree, his soft singing emanating from his very being.

Aglaea looked at the somewhat blurred figure, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Hoffa!?"

The singing stopped, and the figure turned around. It wasn't Hoffa's face. Black hair, pale skin—an entirely unfamiliar person, or rather, something not quite human, resembling a hazy specter.

The man's eyes flashed with surprise before he smiled and said, "As expected, Veela are never easy to deal with."

"Who are you?" Aglaea asked.

"No one," the stranger replied softly.

With that, he began walking toward her. The dragons trailed behind him, their eyes fixed intently on him.

As he passed the fire, the small animals by the campfire rose to their feet, falling in line behind the dragons in neat rows.

Seeing the neatly lined-up animals, a wave of absurdity surged through Aglaea's mind. Her classmates had vanished, replaced by these animals.

"Come with me," the man said, stepping closer.

"Where are my classmates?"

Aglaea took a step back, discreetly drawing her wand.

"They're all waiting for you," the man replied nonchalantly.

Aglaea retreated further, pressing her back against a tree trunk.

The man extended his hand, his eyes glimmering. "So beautiful."

His pale, slender fingers reached for Aglaea's bewildered face. Tilting his head, he leaned closer, as if to kiss her.

Locked in place by an overwhelming psychic force, Aglaea leaned against the tree, unable to move. Her wand felt impossibly heavy, refusing to rise.

Above, the clouds parted, revealing a solemn and silent silver full moon. Shadows grew, mysterious and ominous. Within the toxic sap of the tree trunk, the man's spine slowly twisted and expanded like brambles. His form shifted, losing its human shape, transforming into the vivid silhouette of a dragon. His wings danced gracefully in the air.

The confusion on Aglaea's face turned to terror.

Just as his fingers were about to touch her skin—

Fatir, who had been asleep beneath the tree, suddenly opened his eyes. Without hesitation, he leapt like a predator, grabbing Aglaea and shoving her away from the tree trunk with force.

In one swift motion, he spun around, drew his wand, and lashed out, sending a crackling whip of lightning arcing toward the shadowy figure.

The electric whip sliced through the air in a perfect arc, but it hit nothing. The whip passed through the man's body as though he were made of mist.

The stranger withdrew his hand, gliding through Fatir like a phantom, then seamlessly passing through the tree trunk itself.

The young fire dragons and the line of small animals followed him obediently, like tadpoles swimming in water.

Aglaea snapped back to her senses, scrambled to her feet, and chased after him with her wand in hand. But as soon as she rounded a corner, the man was gone. The animals, too, had vanished, evaporating into thin air.

"Where are my classmates? Miranda, Sherlock, where are you?"

Aglaea glanced around desperately. "Wait, where's our fire dragon?"

Fatir said nothing, his expression dark as he stared into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

Seeing his silence, Aglaea became frantic and began calling out loudly:

"Elizabeth!"

"Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth was the name of her Welsh Green Dragon. In her moment of panic, her first thought was to find her dragon, her trusted companion.

But no matter how much she called, the green dragon that had followed her for two months did not respond. None of the other young dragons made a sound either.

It was as if the entire Forbidden Forest had been emptied, leaving only the two of them—father and daughter.

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09