Harry Potter: I am the Legend

One Week Ago

The Scottish Highlands were blanketed in heavy snow. Aglaia, gripping her wand in one hand and supporting Fatière with the other, trudged through the snow, each step sinking deeply into the icy ground.

Both were in dire condition. Aglaia's fingers were blue with cold, her face pale and bloodless. Her tattered robes hung from her shoulders, her hair was thick with snow, and frostbite had left painful cuts on her ears.

Fatière, on the other hand, staggered along with his abdomen wrapped in bandages, his condition perilously close to lifeless.

Ahead of them loomed a dilapidated wooden cabin, likely abandoned by a hunter after summer expeditions.

It had been over two weeks since Fatière was attacked. Back in the cave, the half-giant Hagrid had driven a weapon straight through him. Aglaia, skilled in potion-making, had managed to scavenge some herbs from the cave and concoct a crude draft of dittany, barely keeping her father alive.

Her goal was to get Fatière back to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. However, his severe injuries, combined with the unrelenting snowstorm, forced her to move at a painstaking pace, pausing frequently to gather herbs in a desperate attempt to slow the worsening of his condition.

Standing before the abandoned cabin, she lowered Fatière onto the snow and kicked open the door. The interior was bare except for a few scattered pieces of firewood.

"Damn it!" Aglaia cursed under her breath as she checked Fatière's pulse.

It was faint, barely perceptible.

She untied the travel bag from her back. Inside were only a few meager items: a gray dragon egg and a handful of potion bottles. The dragon egg, taken from the cave, held no interest for her.

Opening one of the bottles, she carefully peeled back the bandages on Fatière's abdomen. The wound from the half-giant's attack was still raw and gruesome, flesh mangled and internal organs faintly visible.

An unseen force lifted Fatière's body like a puppet, positioning him upright.

As Aglaia applied the potion to his wound, a shadow on the floor began to writhe, shifting with each of Fatière's movements as though an invisible entity were holding him.

When she finished, she examined the remaining potion. There wasn't much left.

The journey to Hogwarts would take at least another week, and she needed more healing supplies. Without them, Fatière might not survive the trek through this frozen wilderness.

Securing the bandages, she stepped outside into the snowy forest, resolute in her search for medicinal herbs.

Searching for herbs in the frigid, snow-covered Scottish wilderness was an arduous task, even for a witch. She repeatedly brushed away the snow, hoping to uncover plants hidden beneath, only to be met with disappointment. Lacking ingredients, even her potion-making skills were rendered useless.

Suddenly, the crunching sound of footsteps echoed from the distance. She froze, straightening her posture immediately.

Emerging from the snowstorm was a creature over two meters tall, its brown scales gleaming, amber-yellow eyes glinting, and spikes covering its body.

It was the Hungarian Horntail they had rescued. Compared to two weeks ago, it had grown noticeably larger.

Following the Horntail were other dragons they had saved, including a fat Swedish Short-Snout dragging a still-twitching elk in its jaws.

The elk's abdomen had been pierced, and its blood left a trail of crimson blossoms in the white snow.

The dragons had returned from their hunt. Aglaia felt a mix of relief and caution—relief because there was now food, and caution because the dragons would not willingly share their prize.

As expected, the Swedish Short-Snout dropped the elk onto the snow, pacing and grunting while watching Aglaia.

The Hungarian Horntail, leading the group, spat out a small burst of fire, its amber eyes full of challenge.

Though weary, cold, and hungry, Aglaia stood tall and unyielding, her expression severe, her gaze unwavering.

She knew that any sign of weakness would prompt the dragons to tear her apart and choose a new leader for their group.

For half a minute, the standoff continued. Most of the smaller dragons lowered their heads in submission, but the larger ones were less willing to concede their chance at leadership.

Finally, the Horntail stretched its neck and roared.

"ROAR!"

It seemed ready to make a move.

Without hesitation, Aglaia snapped her fingers. A previously invisible Welsh Green appeared, crashing heavily into the Hungarian Horntail and knocking it aside.

The Horntail snarled in pain, preparing to retaliate.

"Enough."

Aglaia's voice was sharp and commanding, carrying an unmistakable weight.

The Horntail froze, subdued. Behind it, the Swedish Short-Snout grunted and pushed the elk toward Aglaia with its snout.

Aglaia let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. This gesture signaled that the dragon group still recognized her authority as their leader. In dragon society, only the leader had the right to distribute food.

Drawing a knife, Aglaia knelt by the elk and pressed her forehead against its neck.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly.

With a swift motion, she plunged the blade into its neck, severing the spinal cord. The elk let out a final cry before its eyes dimmed, its body going limp.

Exhaling a frosty breath, Aglaia fought back her discomfort and coldly cut a piece of meat from the elk's hind leg. The act felt like a phantom pain in her own body, but she had no choice.

Once done, she sheathed the knife.

The Hungarian Horntail immediately drew closer. Aglaia nodded and patted its spiked head, stepping aside. The Horntail circled the elk before tearing off one of its legs with a powerful bite.

This marked the start of the feast. The dragons descended upon the carcass, tearing into it with no regard for Aglaia. Only then did she allow herself a faint sigh.

"Damn it. This job is inhuman," she muttered under her breath.

Aglaea leaned against the tree trunk, murmuring to herself. Among the dragons, she had to maintain absolute confidence and an unwavering posture of leadership at all times.

If the dragons saw even a hint of weakness in her, she might be devoured in an instant. Even the green dragon, the one closest to her, was still, at its core, a dragon.

In the world of dragons, there was no room for sentimentality—only dominance or submission.

After catching her breath, she picked up the venison and skewered it on a wooden stick. Finding a spot away from the dragon group, she decided to light a fire and eat something before continuing her search for medicinal herbs.

Traveling alongside the dragons was not an option—it was far too exhausting.

The confident demeanor she had displayed so far was entirely an act. Even in front of the familiar green dragon, she couldn't afford to show the slightest vulnerability.

It was like a struggling businessman visiting a bank for a loan—no matter how destitute, they had to appear polished and presentable. That kind of facade, though necessary, was deeply disheartening.

As the venison roasted, the aroma gradually wafted through the forest. Aglaea drew her knife, ready to cut off a piece to eat when a voice called out from behind her.

"Hey."

She turned her head cautiously. Emerging from the woods was a man holding a bow. His hair was matted, his face red and blue from the cold, and he wore filthy leather gloves and a mole-fur cap. A wand was tucked into his belt—a hunter, no doubt.

"Where did you get that meat?"

The hunter looked at Aglaea and questioned her.

Startled by his sudden appearance, Aglaea immediately stood up and raised her wand defensively. It was the first time in days that she'd seen another wizard besides her father, Fatir.

Out here in the wilderness, caution was her only option.

The hunter, holding his bow, stepped closer, sizing her up.

"That's venison," he said. "I just lost a deer."

Lost a deer? Aglaea thought. Could her dragons have snatched it from him? She glanced over her shoulder at the dragons, their forms barely visible in the snowy haze as they feasted.

"I don't know," Aglaea lied coldly. "I brought this from home."

"A young girl like you, out here all alone?"

The hunter's eyes scanned her carefully. "Are you lost?"

"Picnicking," Aglaea said, half-truthfully. "With my friends."

"Where are your friends?"

"Elsewhere. None of your business."

"Mind if I have a bit?" The hunter pointed at the venison. "I've been walking all day and I'm starving."

Aglaea didn't answer. She raised her wand higher, making her intentions clear. But the hunter didn't leave. Instead, he calmly sheathed his bow and refrained from drawing his wand.

"Do you need anything?" he asked instead. "I can trade with you."

"Got any potions? Wiggenweld?" Aglaea blurted out without thinking.

"If you do, I'll pay you handsomely for some."

The hunter nodded, drew a knife, and casually cut a piece of meat from the venison, popping it into his mouth.

"Sure. I've got some back at my camp. If you want it, you'll have to come with me."

"Lead the way," Aglaea said, her wand still raised.

"Do you mind putting the wand down? I'm not some villain," the hunter said. "My name's James. What's yours?"

Aglaea didn't answer.

James chuckled. "Fine, you don't trust me. Let's just go."

The venison sizzled in the background as James turned and gestured for her to follow, his easy demeanor contrasting with her wary stance.

(End of Chapter)

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