Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The moment Fatir blurted out the name, "Noble," Aglaea almost lost her composure. How could this guy be even more reckless than she was? He just shouted the name out loud!

The man with a full beard turned his head. For a brief moment, his expression shifted through a series of emotions: shock, fear, malice, and finally, a blank facade.

"Fatir Dulasys," Noble muttered, lowering his head and speaking in a hoarse voice. "So, you're still alive."

"And you've been hiding here?" Fatir responded, astonished. "I thought you were in London."

"Stay in London? And let you and Bohan send me to Azkaban?" Noble spat on the ground, smacking his lips disdainfully. "Such hypocrisy. Who told you to come here?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

Fatir pointed at the young dragon suspended in mid-air. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing things you'd never dare to dream of, old friend," Noble replied with feverish intensity. The air seemed to grow heavier as he hunched his shoulders and subtly positioned his wand behind his back.

Aglaea's eyes darted back and forth between the two men. It was clear her father knew this man.

Fatir stayed still, his tone probing. "Who are you working for now? With a setup like this—a place this size, equipment this extensive—this isn't something you could afford alone."

"And who are you working for these days?"

Fatir didn't answer. Instead, his gaze drifted to a metal workstation, where a gray dragon egg rested. For a moment, a memory surfaced—a vivid recollection from forty years ago, on a mountaintop. He remembered this egg, the only marked artifact in that storage room. Its name was "Void."

His expression shifted dramatically. Fatir bolted toward the workstation, reaching for the dragon egg.

But Noble had already anticipated his move. His face twisted with hatred and disdain as he swung his wand without hesitation.

"Cruciatus!"

A beam of red light illuminated the corner of the cave.

In the blink of an eye, before the curse could hit Fatir, an invisible force struck Noble violently, sending him crashing into the wall.

The Cruciatus Curse narrowly missed Fatir, who grabbed the dragon egg.

From the rubble, Noble clawed his way back up. He staggered but sneered hoarsely. "You're surprisingly agile for an old relic like you."

With a flick of his wand, Noble transformed it into a thin whip, which coiled tightly around Fatir's arm. Ghostly green flames began to burn along the whip.

Fatir's face darkened. Switching hands, he seized the dragon egg and hurled it toward Aglaea.

"Catch!"

Aglaea instinctively reached out and caught the egg. For a moment, she felt a strange sensation, as if she were holding not a solid object but a powerful radiation source.

Meanwhile, the green flames consumed Fatir's sleeve, reducing it to ash in an instant, the scent of charred flesh filling the air.

Without hesitation, Fatir swung his wand toward Noble. "Expelliarmus!"

The Disarming Charm struck Noble square in the chest. His wand flew high into the air, and the fiery whip vanished.

But losing his wand didn't stop Noble. His muscles swelled grotesquely, and his entire body expanded as he charged forward like a bull. With a deafening crash, he rammed into Fatir, forcing him back two steps. Blood trickled from the corner of Fatir's mouth.

Pinning Fatir against the wall, Noble snarled, "You interfered with me forty years ago. Now you're here to do it again!"

"Are you working for Grindelwald?" Fatir gritted his teeth as he asked.

"Why the hell do you care? Isn't he your protégé?" Noble retorted with a savage grin, grabbing a fistful of Fatir's hair and slamming his head toward the wall.

Just as his head was about to collide with the surface, Fatir managed to brace himself against the wall with one hand.

But Noble didn't relent, maintaining his grip and attempting to force Fatir's head against the stone. The two became locked in a fierce stalemate.

Meanwhile, Aglaea, clutching the dragon egg, finally snapped out of her daze. Seeing her father locked in a struggle, she quickly drew her wand, ready to intervene.

However, pinned against the wall, Fatir turned his head and shouted at Aglaea, "Don't worry about me—run!"

Noble twisted his head toward her and broke free from the struggle, leaping toward Aglaea.

Aglaea glanced at the dragon egg in her hands, then bolted toward the cave's exit. But after only a few steps, a thick stick appeared in her path, tripping her to the ground.

A half-giant boy emerged from the shadows, trembling as he clutched the large stick, his hesitation evident.

Realizing the situation, Aglaea quickly raised her wand.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Chains of purple light erupted from her wand, binding the half-giant boy tightly.

He barely resisted before collapsing to the ground, the stick rolling far out of his reach.

Noble had already caught up. He kicked his son hard on the backside. "Useless! Are you a troll? Get up!"

Without another word, he lunged at Aglaea, yanking the dragon egg from her chest. He turned and sprinted toward the cave's exit.

Fatir pushed off the wall, rushed forward, and pulled Aglaea to her feet. Shadows at his feet coiled and swirled like living creatures.

But Noble was fast, vanishing from sight within moments.

Fatir scanned the area and spotted the half-giant boy, still fumbling clumsily as he tried to stand. Without hesitation, Fatir darted toward him and grabbed him by the neck.

"Hey! Stop, or I'll kill your son!" Fatir roared after Noble.

Noble, who was nearly out of sight, came to an abrupt halt. Turning back, he glared at Fatir with visible fury as his gaze fell on his son, now held hostage. Holding his head as if in pain, he grimaced.

But his hesitation lasted only a second.

He pulled out a massive alchemical pistol, pointing it straight at Aglaea.

Click.

The pistol was cocked.

Staring coldly at his son, Noble gritted his teeth and snarled, "Useless! Don't you know how to run?"

"My-my legs… they won't move," the boy stammered, his voice full of frustration and fear. Black tendrils coiled tightly around his legs, immobilizing him.

Noble kept the alchemical pistol trained on Aglaea.

"Old man," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "we both have something to lose here. I suggest you don't push this too far."

Fatir glanced at Aglaea, his grip loosening slightly on the boy's neck.

"Can we negotiate?" Fatir asked cautiously.

"Oh? And how do you propose that?" Noble replied with a mocking sneer.

"Hand over the dragon egg," Fatir said gravely. "I'll let your son go."

"A two-for-one deal? That seems awfully unfair."

"I can convince the Wizengamot to lift your bounty," Fatir offered.

Noble let out a derisive snort, a sound that was both dismissive and annoyed. After a tense moment, he uncocked the pistol with a click and tossed it to the ground.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, he approached Fatir.

Fatir, wary, nudged Aglaea aside with his shoulder. He didn't take his eyes off Noble for even a second. Shadows at his feet unraveled and twisted, forming serpentine, monstrous shapes.

Stopping in front of Fatir, Noble extended the dragon egg.

Fatir released the boy, loosening his grip, and reached out for the egg.

But just at that moment—

Noble's lips curled into a faint smile. "Goodbye."

In the next instant, he suddenly pulled out a small vial from his pocket and smashed it directly against Fatir's hand. The liquid inside seeped into the wounds made by the shattered glass and swiftly entered Fatir's bloodstream.

Under the effects of the potion, his magic vanished almost instantly.

Fatir's breath hitched as he stumbled backward. "Anti-Magic Potion… where did you get this?"

"I learned to make it," Noble sneered, tossing the shattered vial aside. "The more life throws at you, the more 'experience' you pick up."

He picked up a large wrench from the nearby workbench, weighed it in his hands, and walked menacingly toward Fatir with a cruel grin. "Without your magic, let's see what you can use to fight me now."

Fatir glanced at Aglaea, standing nearby. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes, and his face turned deathly pale.

This strange action caused Noble, wrench raised, to hesitate.

Suddenly, Fatir's shadow expanded rapidly. It spiraled around Noble like a coiling serpent, each loop squeezing tighter. Noble's body tensed as his eyes bulged, struggling desperately against the invisible force.

"The Shadow Dragon," Noble gasped, shifting his gaze toward Fatir. "A parasite that feeds on the host's mind… you dare keep such a thing tethered to yourself?" His voice was hoarse as he continued, "You're insane! Aren't you afraid it'll drain you into a husk?"

"Compared to what you're creating, it's nothing," Fatir replied, his pale face etched with determination as he pressed Noble firmly to the ground. "What exactly are you trying to cultivate?"

"That's none of your damn business!" Noble spat through gritted teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging.

Fatir took a deep breath, lifting his gaze slightly. "Slaughtering dragons, using Unforgivable Curses—you've already committed countless atrocities!"

"They're necessary means!" Noble roared, coughing up blood. "Why aren't you doing anything?! Do you want to see me die?!"

The moment the words left his mouth, a massive wooden club swung through the air, aimed directly at Fatir's head. The rush of wind whipped through his hair.

Aglaea's pupils constricted as she quickly aimed her wand at the charging half-giant.

"Leg-locker Curse!"

Hagrid, mid-sprint with the club raised, suddenly snapped his legs together in an absurdly awkward position, crashing headfirst into the corner of the workbench. He collapsed instantly, unconscious without even a groan.

The club, now out of control, fell and smashed directly onto Noble's head.

Thud!

A dull sound echoed through the cave.

Blood trickled from Noble's forehead as he tilted his head slightly, his dazed eyes shifting between the fallen Hagrid and the boy lying on the ground. His voice was full of frustration and despair as he muttered, "Why… are you so damn useless?"

With that, his body crumpled to the floor, unconscious and twitching slightly.

The cave returned to silence, the earlier chaos dissipating. The dark shadows on the ground slowly thinned and shrank, retreating back to Fatir's feet before returning to their normal human shape.

Fatir glanced at the unconscious Noble, then at Aglaea, who was still holding her wand. Pressing his hand against the wall, he exhaled deeply, his expression complicated as he looked at her.

Aglaea met his gaze, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Fatir broke the silence and looked away.

"Thank you."

A smug expression gradually crept onto Aglaea's face as she couldn't suppress her growing satisfaction. She smirked. "Ha, that guy's really stupid."

Fatir said nothing more as he slowly walked to Noble, who was lying unconscious on the ground. Bending down, he pressed two fingers to Noble's neck.

Aglaea stood up, dusted off her pants, and asked, "Is he dead?"

"No, just unconscious," Fatir replied.

"That crazy old man… do you know him?"

"Yes," Fatir answered, his gaze fixed on Noble's face. "We met many years ago."

"But I never thought he'd end up like this," he added, a note of regret in his voice.

"Well, if you ask me, you two are pretty similar," Aglaea said lightly before striding purposefully toward her dragon. She pointed her wand at it and cast, "Severing Charm!"

The young fire dragon, which had been suspended from the cave's ceiling, dropped down. The dragons seemed to have been drugged with some unknown substance and lay unconscious.

Aglaea carefully inspected the dragons one by one until she found her own Welsh Green. With relief, she patted its head, a smile spreading across her face. Thankfully, they had arrived in time—these dragons hadn't met the same fate as the adult fire dragons outside, whose blood had been drained, leaving them dead.

Having recovered her dragon, Aglaea searched the cave for her missing classmates. She scoured every corner but found no signs of life; her classmates were still nowhere to be seen.

When she returned to the workbench, she found Fatir studying some parchment left by Noble. His expression was grim as he flipped through the notes. "Biological fusion… as I suspected."

"What's that?" Aglaea asked, curious.

Fatir set the parchment down. "The Ultimate Creature Project."

"What ultimate creature?"

"Many years ago, we shared a fascination—an obsession, really—with dragons. We both believed that dragons held immense, untapped power that could be harnessed to benefit wizards."

He paused before continuing, "There's an old legend in the wizarding world, a rumor that has circulated for centuries. It speaks of a perfect dragon, one that possesses all the strengths of every dragon species: unparalleled speed, immense power, the hottest fire breath, the largest size, the most dazzling appearance. It's said that this dragon can control all living beings, standing unchallenged at the top of the food chain."

"Control all living beings?" Aglaea repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "That's… a thing?"

"No one knows," Fatir admitted, shaking his head. "No one has ever seen such a creature. Personally, I think it's nothing more than a fantasy—a fabrication born from the imaginations of young, naive minds.

"But Noble believed in it completely. Or rather, this legend perfectly aligned with his obsession with power.

"He has always been consumed by a fascination with powerful creatures. He's a staunch believer in Darwinism, convinced that survival of the fittest is the only rule in the world. To him, no other laws exist.

"So, he set out to find this ultimate creature. He searched for years but found nothing.

"I warned him repeatedly that no perfect creature exists in this world, but he refused to listen. His obsession ran too deep.

"Eventually, he made a decision: if such a creature didn't exist, he would create it himself. Eleven years ago, he stole much of my research on dragons and disappeared.

"I searched for him for years but eventually gave up."

Fatir sighed deeply before continuing, "I never imagined he'd come here… and that he still hasn't let go of his delusion."

As his voice trailed off, Aglaea glanced uneasily at the cracked gray egg on the workbench. A sense of foreboding welled up in her chest.

Fatir picked up the egg and examined it closely. "This is probably one of his experiments. I'll take it to St. Mungo's and have your mother analyze it."

Aglaea, intrigued, took the egg from Fatir to get a closer look, trying to discern its nature.

As soon as she held it, a cold, menacing voice sounded from behind her. "Put that down."

Startled, Aglaea turned around.

The half-giant boy who had been lying unconscious on the ground had somehow gotten up.

In less than a second, Rube Hagrid lunged at her, gripping a sharp stalactite shard in his hand. He grabbed Aglaea's shoulder and aimed the jagged point straight at her heart.

The two were too close, and his movement was too quick—Aglaea couldn't react in time.

In that split second, Fatir grabbed her other shoulder, yanking her back just enough to shield her with his body.

Thud!

The shard plunged into Fatir's abdomen, and the force sent him flying backward, crashing into the metal workbench.

The half-giant boy was no longer the timid, fearful figure he had been earlier. His face twisted with madness and cruelty as he pinned Fatir to the ground, one hand gripping his neck and the other twisting the shard deeper into his stomach. Fatir cried out in pain.

Crash!

Aglaea grabbed a massive glass jar from the table and smashed it over the half-giant's head.

The boy staggered, momentarily dazed, but Aglaea didn't stop.

Crash!Crash!

Crash!

Eyes red with fury, she struck him over and over, smashing the jar against his head until blood poured from his wounds. Even then, she didn't stop.

Seeing his daughter overtaken by fear and rage, Fatir forced himself to rise despite the agony. He stumbled forward and grabbed her, holding her back.

"Stop! Stop it, Aglaea! Calm down! He's being controlled!"

Aglaea froze, her mind struggling to process his words. Then she looked at Fatir—and felt a chill run through her body.

The massive shard of stalactite had pierced clean through his abdomen. Blood poured from the wound, seeping between his fingers as he tried in vain to stem the flow.

Without a word, Aglaea tore at his robes, exposing the wound. A horrifying gash split his stomach, revealing glimpses of his writhing organs.

"This… you…"

(To be continued.)

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