Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The hunter tore into the venison, swallowing large chunks before rising to lead the way. Aglaia stowed her wand, whistled softly, and followed behind him.

They hadn't walked far.

The hunter's ears perked up, and his nose twitched. Drawing his wand, he stared warily at the distant snowy expanse. After a long pause, when nothing seemed amiss, he turned to Aglaia, curious.

"Did you hear anything?"

Aglaia shook her head. "No."

"Strange. I thought I heard something."

Muttering to himself, the hunter resumed the trek.

Aglaia exhaled quietly, her fingers discreetly signaling toward the snowfield. Far away, a translucent figure froze in place, and the faint sound of crunching snow ceased.

She wasn't foolish—following a stranger blindly was never her style. But with Fadiel in critical condition, she had no choice but to take the risk.

Fortunately, she had her invisible green dragon by her side. The whistle earlier had summoned it, though her mental state wasn't ideal for controlling it perfectly. Still, now wasn't the time to dwell on that. If things turned sour, she had the means to defend herself.

An hour later, Aglaia followed the hunter to a small village nestled within a grove of trees. The area was encircled by wooden fences, with the snow cleared from the ground to reveal a surprisingly tidy settlement.

Within the village, neat vegetable plots and wooden cabins painted a picture of rural life. The gardens grew cabbages and radishes, while beneath several oak trees, men and women in thick leather garments huddled around fires, warming their hands. There were dozens of them, some roasting food over the flames.

When they noticed Aglaia's arrival, their expressions betrayed neither surprise nor particular interest.

Aglaia's unease began to dissipate. The place seemed like a peaceful countryside village, tranquil and harmonious. It was unlikely the hunter leading her here had any ill intentions.

"Are all of you wizards?" Aglaia asked the hunter.

"Yes, we are," he replied succinctly.

"So many wizards live here?"

"Indeed," the hunter confirmed. "I'm the leader of this village."

Aglaia was taken aback. This was the barren highlands of northern Scotland, far removed from any major cities. She couldn't fathom why people would choose to live in such a desolate place.

As they conversed, they arrived at the door of a small wooden cabin.

"Would you like to come in with me?" the hunter asked, standing at the door.

Aglaia shook her head. "No need. I'll wait here."

She wasn't about to step into the house of a man she'd just met, especially not alone.

The hunter didn't press her and went inside on his own.

Standing outside, Aglaia observed the village. Gradually, she noticed something peculiar. The people moving about the settlement wore odd expressions—apathetic, relaxed, almost unnervingly serene, with an undercurrent of lethargy.

Having spent so much time with dragons, Aglaia found this atmosphere unsettling. Dragons were perpetually alert, always challenging her. She'd grown accustomed to constant vigilance, even sleeping without ever letting her guard down. As for lethargy? It was an alien concept to her.

Before long, the hunter emerged, holding a set of medicines. He handed them to Aglaia. Examining them closely, she saw they were indeed prepared dittany potions.

Relief washed over her. The tension she'd been carrying eased as she exhaled deeply. With the medicine in hand, Fadiel could receive proper treatment, and their return to Hogwarts would be much simpler.

"Thank you," she said, turning promptly to leave. She was eager to retrace her steps without delay.

"Wait," the hunter called out calmly behind her. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Aglaia froze and smacked her forehead. She cursed her carelessness—she'd completely forgotten about payment in her haste. Quickly, she reached into her pocket, retrieving a handful of Galleons, and handed them over.

"Here, this should be enough. Keep the change," she said generously. When it came to money, Aglaia was confident. Dittany wasn't a rare or expensive herb, and this amount could easily buy ten such treatments at any hospital.

But the hunter glanced at the coins and seemed disappointed. He shook his head.

"This won't do."

Aglaia froze, lifting the Galleons and counting them.

"Uh... is it not enough? This is all I have."

The hunter shook his head. "No, it's not that. We don't use money."

Aglaia blinked. "What?"

"What would we need money for?"

The hunter gestured around him. "As you can see, our village operates without currency. We live a simple life of farming and hunting, where all resources are shared and distributed collectively. Galleons are meaningless to us."

"Money is useless!?"

Aglaia was stunned. Were these people living in some kind of vacuum?

Noticing her bewildered expression, the hunter chuckled. "Out there, people kill each other over gold. We want no part of that life."

Aglaia was speechless. She had never encountered anything like this before. After a long pause, she asked, "Alright, then what do I need to do to get the medicine?"

"Oh, it's quite simple."

The hunter smiled. "Everything in our village is communal. If you join our community, all resources here will be available to you as well."

"That's it?"

Aglaia looked at the dittany in her hand, skeptical.

The hunter nodded. "That's it."

"Just a verbal agreement?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes."

"And are there any obligations I'll have to fulfill?"

"Just share what you have with us. That's enough."

Aglaia couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Though filled with doubts, she thought of her father, still clinging to life in the snowy wilderness. Reluctantly, she nodded.

"Alright then, I agree. I'll share what I have with you in the future."

The hunter glanced at her, drew his wand, and made a motion in the air.

Aglaia felt a slight warmth on her arm. A red flame-like mark appeared on her wrist.

"What's this?" she asked with a frown.

"A beacon."

The hunter lifted his sleeve, revealing a similar flame mark on his arm.

"Everyone in our village has one. It's a way to stay connected."

"Alright, fine. We'll be in touch."

Without waiting for a response, Aglaia turned and headed out of the village. As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder if these people were out of their minds. No money, shared resources—were they living in a dream?

When she returned to the abandoned cabin, the fire had nearly burned out. Fadiel was curled up near the dying flames, trembling violently. He seemed to be trapped in a nightmare, muttering incoherently, "Don't... don't let go... don't let go..."

Aglaia touched his forehead and flinched. It was scorching.

Quickly, she pulled out the medicine and tried to apply it to him.

Suddenly, Fadiel jerked awake. His fingers, like iron claws, latched onto Aglaia's wrist. His eyes snapped open, wild and unseeing. In a voice thick with desperation, he muttered, "I'm sorry... I had no choice... I could only choose one..."

Aglaia winced in pain, prying his fingers off her wrist with difficulty. She slapped him across the face.

The blow jolted Fadiel slightly out of his nightmare. His eyes focused on her for a moment before his tense body relaxed. His pupils dilated, and he collapsed back onto the ground, unconscious.

Aglaia didn't say a word. She finished applying the medicine, then silently added more wood to the fire. Curling up in a corner, she hugged her arms, keeping watch over him in the flickering firelight.

She felt an inexplicable sense of fear, as if, for that brief moment when her father had regained consciousness, he hadn't recognized her. Instead, he seemed to mistake her for someone else, apologizing repeatedly.

Thinking of her mother, and recalling how her father had stayed away from home for so many years, Aglaia felt a sharp pain in her heart, like a thorn lodged there. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she resolved that once he recovered, she would tie him up if necessary and drag him back home to properly apologize to her mother.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, the exhaustion from the day overwhelmed her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she was abruptly awakened by a burning sensation on her wrist. Startled, she rolled up her sleeve and saw that the red flame mark on her arm was glowing ominously.

Then she heard laughter outside, bursts of it, echoing through the night.

The sound sent a chill down her spine. Memories of that horrifying night when her friend had been turned into an animal flooded her mind. Gripping her wand tightly, she got up and cautiously peered through a crack in the window.

It was twilight, with a dim grayish light reflecting off the snow, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Occasional flickers of firelight flashed between the trees—the source of the laughter.

Was it those villagers from earlier?

Aglaia wondered what they were doing here in the middle of the night. She wasn't too worried about herself, but if they disturbed the dragon herd, things could get disastrous. Dragons were not the kind to tolerate intrusions into their territory.

With this in mind, she threw on her cloak and stepped out into the cold, snowy night.

Sure enough, she spotted flickering torches in the distance, about a hundred meters away. Concerned that the commotion might rouse the dragons, she quickened her pace, wand at the ready, and headed toward the source of the noise.

As she approached, she stopped about ten meters from the scene and was met with a bizarre sight.

The villagers from earlier were dressed in strange, scant clothing—both men and women alike—standing in the snow, laughing and making odd, jubilant sounds. They had formed several circles, each holding torches, and from the center of the circles came strange, muffled groans.

Aglaia had no idea what they were doing, but their attire alone was enough to make her face flush red. Raising her wand, she shouted loudly, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

The group turned to look at her, their expressions just as calm, natural, and smiling as they had been during the day.

But in this eerie setting, those smiles seemed grotesquely out of place—unnervingly sinister.

"Hey, stay away from here, or you might get into trouble," she shouted, trying to sound authoritative. "Do you hear me? Go somewhere else."

At that moment, the hunter who had given her the medicine earlier stepped forward. He was wearing nothing but a peculiar, tight-fitting strap garment. "We're here for you," he said calmly.

"For me?" Aglaia asked, confused. "What do you want with me?"

"You're one of us now," the hunter replied. "Tonight is our Night of Reproduction, so of course we came to find you."

He gestured to the men behind him. "We think you're beautiful, and we'd like to share their bodies with you."

Aglaia froze, stunned. For a moment, she wondered if she was still dreaming. Shaking her head vigorously, she asked, "Sorry, what did you just say?"

"They want to share their bodies with you—to help propagate the next generation," the hunter explained patiently, as though discussing something as mundane as tomorrow's meal.

Aglaia's jaw dropped as the meaning of his words sank in. Shocked and appalled, she swiftly raised her wand and shouted, "Do you even realize what the hell you're saying? Why the hell would I ever—"

Her face turned from pale to green with anger and disgust. Just repeating his words in her mind was enough to make her nauseous. She couldn't fathom how someone could say such things with a straight face.

"Why not?" the hunter asked softly. "Everything in our village is shared, including our bodies."

"Shut up!!" Aglaia roared, her voice trembling with fury. "Shut your filthy mouth, you lunatic! You perverted freak!"

(End of Chapter)

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