Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The ancient castle loomed alone in the faint mist, surrounded by millennia-old trees that exuded the scent of dampness and decay. The forest, a mix of gray-green hues, was dominated by sturdy oaks and ancient ironwood trees. Thick, black tree trunks pressed against one another, their twisted branches weaving a dense canopy overhead, while gnarled roots wrestled for dominance beneath the ground.

In this dreamscape, time was indiscernible. The river was shrouded in white mist. Hoffa navigated a small boat through the dense forest river, intermittently calling out Chloe's name.

Ever since leaving the previous layer of the dream, he had arrived in this strange yet familiar place.

The Forbidden Forest.

The Black Lake.

Hogwarts.

This deep, silent, and oppressive land of shadows.

The boat glided silently across the Black Lake as Hoffa's oar sliced through the water. The night breeze tousled his hair, and everything felt peaceful, almost serene. Finally, it's my turn, he thought to himself.

In the distance, the castle stood, visible but out of reach. Amid the mist, he saw a patch of dark green grass along the lake's shore, where Chloe sat at the edge with her back to him.

He steered the boat to the shore and stepped onto the grass.

Laughter echoed faintly from the forest behind him, accompanied by a playful voice: "Ready or not, here I come!" The voice, silvery and familiar, sent a shiver down his spine. He turned his head, glimpsing a flash of silver hair darting behind an ancient oak. Clenching his fists, he quickly turned back.

Stay calm.

Regaining his composure, he walked up to Chloe, who was seated on the grass like a tea ceremony master, her gaze fixed on the castle across the lake.

"That's Hogwarts, isn't it?" she asked without turning around.

"It is," he replied.

"I was supposed to go to that school. My family would have sent me, and I'd have received that magical letter—if it weren't for this strange power of mine," she said softly. "I wonder which house the legendary Sorting Hat would've placed me in."

Hoffa sat down beside her. "Aldo is dead."

"If I had gone to Hogwarts, maybe none of this chaos would've happened. I'd have studied in peace, passed my wizard registration exams, and eventually gotten a job at Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic. Maybe I'd even open a café in Diagon Alley."

"It's not as perfect as you think, Chloe. Nowhere is."

"Are you sure it's not just you? If you weren't so cold, who would ever leave that school?" she said nonchalantly.

"Maybe. Chloe, I'm sorry," Hoffa said, trying to reach her.

"Sorry? For what?"

"For Mary's death. I'm sorry. I could've done better, but I didn't. I ignored your feelings and neglected her fate. That's a fact, and I'm sorry."

Chloe stared at him, stunned, as if seeing him for the first time.

"If you want to save her, once we leave here, I'll help you," Hoffa continued.

Chloe shook her head with a sigh. "It's been too long. Even if I wanted to save her, it's beyond me now."

"In that case," Hoffa said, grasping Chloe's hand, "come back with me. This isn't the real world. We still have important things to do. Remember the orphaned children on the ship? You swore to take them to England."

Chloe replied weakly, "But how do we leave here? How do we escape this endless nightmare?"

"I've found the source of the dream," Hoffa said. "But it's not a physical entity."

"Does it matter what it is? It's been so long, Hoffa. Sometimes I think death might be the only way out of this dream. Maybe, in the real world, Aldo has already woken up."

"No, that's impossible," Hoffa said firmly. "This dream manipulates you into believing death is the solution, but it isn't. It exploits people's inner shadows to drive them to self-destruction or mutual slaughter. Its goal is to break your spirit. Choosing death would mean letting it win."

"So, what then?"

"I have a theory," Hoffa said. "That creature creating the dream didn't appear randomly; it showed up during your magical surge."

"Coincidence?"

"No. How long has it been since we ate or drank anything?"

"A long time," Chloe murmured.

"Time."

"Time?"

"The passage of time is different here. During all this time, I've never felt hunger, thirst, or any other physical need."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Either we're already dead, or the flow of time here is vastly different from reality. Time moves much slower here, and that creature is feeding off your time-related magic, converting it into dream energy."

"It's possible," Chloe admitted. "When I used my power, I did feel something watching me. But so what?"

"So it's been draining your magic."

"Just say it."

"Don't you get it, Chloe? Your magic is gone. My magic is gone. Aldo's magic, Ankell's magic—gone.

Maintaining this dream isn't free. The more I try to recover my magic to fight back, the more it's siphoned off to fuel this nightmare.

At first, this dream covered an entire island, underground corridors, and an entire city. That was because there were four of us. But as our numbers dwindled, the dream's scope shrank. In Paris, I noticed parts of the nightmare were unreachable illusions.

Look at that grand Hogwarts castle ahead—it's just for show. The actual dream world is only as big as this patch of grass."

A glimmer of hope returned to Chloe's eyes. "So the only way to end this nightmare is to stop trying to restore our magic and cut off its source."

"Exactly." Hoffa reached out to pat her head.

"That creature must be weak in its true form. It resorts to such underhanded tactics because it can't destroy us physically. Otherwise, it wouldn't bother."

"But magic flows naturally for wizards, like breathing. Without special potions, can you really sever your magic?"

"I have a way," Hoffa said. "But we'll need to remain calm during the process."

Chloe smiled faintly. "Thank you, Hoffa. But I'm calm. Aldo told me once—dust to dust, ashes to ashes. The past is gone. Mary is gone. The people from the abbey are gone. This is your dream, so it's you who should focus on staying calm."

As she finished speaking, the distant forest echoed with playful laughter once more.

"Hoffa, where are you? If I catch you, you're done for!" a cheerful girl's voice called out.

In the damp mist surrounding the ancient fortress, a forest of towering oaks and weathered ironwood trees exuded a smell of decay and dampness. Thick black trunks tangled together, their twisted branches forming an impenetrable canopy overhead, while gnarled roots grappled beneath the earth like writhing serpents.

In the dream, time seemed meaningless. A white fog blanketed the river as Hoffa guided a small boat through the dense forest waterways, occasionally calling Chloe's name.

Since leaving the previous layer of the dream, he had arrived in this strange yet eerily familiar place.

The Forbidden Forest.

The Black Lake.

Hogwarts.

A somber, suffocating shadow of a place.

The boat glided across the lake, its oars cutting through the water. The night breeze ruffled Hoffa's hair as he looked towards the distant castle, shrouded in mist and seemingly out of reach. Along the lakeshore, he spotted a patch of deep green grass. There, Chloe sat at its edge, her back turned to him.

Hoffa docked the boat and stepped onto the shore.

Behind him, faint laughter echoed through the trees.

"Are you hiding? I'm coming to find you!" a lively, familiar voice chimed.

He turned and glimpsed a flash of silver hair behind an ancient oak tree. His chest tightened. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to stay calm.

Once composed, Hoffa approached Chloe, who was seated gracefully on the grass like a figure in a Japanese tea ceremony, gazing silently at the castle across the lake.

"That's Hogwarts, isn't it?" she asked without looking at him.

"Yes," he replied.

"I should have gone there. My family would have sent me, and I'd have received that magical letter—if it weren't for this strange power of mine," she said softly. "I wonder which house the Sorting Hat would have placed me in."

Hoffa sat beside her. "Aldo is dead."

"If I'd been at Hogwarts, maybe none of this would have happened. I'd have studied peacefully, passed the wizarding registration exams, and found a job at Gringotts or the Ministry of Magic. Maybe I'd have even opened a café in Diagon Alley."

"It's the same wherever you are. It's not as wonderful as you think," Hoffa said.

"Are you sure it's not just your fault? If you weren't so cold and distant, who would leave such a school?" she mused, her tone indifferent.

"Maybe. Chloe, I'm sorry," Hoffa said, trying to bring her back to the present.

"Sorry for what?"

"For Mary's death. I'm sorry. I could have done better, but I didn't. I ignored your feelings and her life. That's the truth, and for that, I'm truly sorry."

Chloe froze, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time.

Hoffa continued, "If you want to save her, once we leave here, I'll help you."

Chloe sighed and shook her head. "It's too late. Even if I wanted to save her, I wouldn't know how."

"In that case..." Hoffa clasped her hand. "Come back with me. This isn't the real world. We still have important things to do. Remember those orphaned children on the ship? You swore to bring them to England."

"But how do we escape this? This endless nightmare?" Chloe asked weakly.

"I've found the source of the dream," Hoffa said. "But it's not a tangible entity."

"Then what is it?"

"Time," Hoffa replied.

"Time?"

"The flow of time here is abnormal. Think about it. How long has it been since we ate, drank, or even felt any human needs?"

Chloe murmured, "A long, long time."

"Exactly. Either we're dead, or the time flow here is drastically different. I believe this creature is manipulating your time-related magic to sustain this nightmare."

"So it's using my power?" Chloe asked.

"Yes. And it's feeding off our magic. The more we try to recover our magic, the more it absorbs to fuel itself."

Chloe's eyes brightened. "So to end the nightmare, we need to stop trying to recover our magic and sever its supply entirely."

"Exactly," Hoffa said, smiling as he patted her head.

"Alright," she said with newfound determination.

They clasped hands, closed their eyes, and began. Hoffa chanted a spell under his breath: Life Conversion.

The process was agonizing. Their magic drained, the dream's world began to crack like fractured glass. The castle in the distance and the grassy shore splintered apart, revealing glimpses of moonlight and the salty tang of the ocean breeze beyond.

But just as the dream seemed on the verge of collapse, soft hands touched Hoffa's back, accompanied by a voice—gentle and teasing.

"This time, you can't hide," the voice whispered, silver hair brushing against his cheek. "I've found you."

Hoffa froze, his pulse pounding.

The dream began to mend itself as his magic regenerated.

With a jolt, he forced his focus back to Chloe, gripping her hand tightly. She opened her eyes, her steady gaze meeting his.

"Mr. Bach," she said firmly, "we have work to do."

Hoffa nodded. "Of course."

With one final chant of Life Conversion, the dream shattered, and amidst the falling shards of ice-cold fragments, the two awakened, back in the real world.

(End of Chapter)

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