Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Under the moonlight, Kylia dragged Ryan along an empty street, running swiftly. Her grip was so firm that her veins stood out, and her grasp made Ryan's knuckles ache. Yet amidst this pain, Ryan felt an indescribable thrill—something he'd never experienced before.

It was akin to the first time he heard an adult tell him a story, the first time he used magic, or the moment he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter. It was an impression so profound that it seemed unforgettable.

It was hard to imagine that he hadn't even met this woman before yesterday. Such a thing was beyond his wildest imagination, yet it was happening.

Was this destiny?

He couldn't help but wonder as he watched the woman's golden hair dance in the air, her bare feet gliding over the ground, and her skin gleaming under the moonlight. He wished for this moment to stretch on forever.

Above them, an owl soared joyfully through the sky, hooting loudly. The wildness and instinct that permeated the night obliterated all rules and constraints, making him willingly follow this woman.

But soon, Kylia stopped. The moonlight disappeared above them as she led Ryan into an abandoned train station. The station was desolate, filled only with overturned plastic chairs and scattered posters and scraps of paper.

The scene oddly reminded Ryan of King's Cross Station. He asked, "Why did you bring me here?"

Kylia adjusted his shoulders without answering.

When they reached a downward corridor in the station, she bit her finger, drawing blood, and sketched a crescent-shaped pattern on the ground.

A cool red mist drifted past, and the crescent design within a radius of five or six meters turned transparent, like a thin veil. Beneath the veil were sparks of fire and countless Gothic-style castles with towering spires.

Ryan could never have imagined that beneath this city lay another one, nested like a Russian matryoshka doll. The entrance led directly to the top of one of the high towers, and under the moonlight, he could see the bustling life of the city below.

Just a step, and he would enter another world.

"This is my family's domain. Without the blood of a vampire, no one can enter," Kylia said, wiggling her pale, slender fingers with a smile.

Ryan looked at the entrance to the underground city, then back at Kylia's smile. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. Yesterday, discovering such a place would have thrilled him. But now, he wished he wasn't a wizard, just an ordinary Muggle oblivious to this world.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked. "I'm a wizard, and I'm here to destroy you."

"Ryan, don't be so rigid. My family already knows about you. My brothers are hunting you. If they find you, the only thing waiting for you is death."

"They already know?"

"Of course. To tell you the truth, we have many people in the Ministry of Magic—more than you can imagine. That place is long rotten. The only thing holding onto the so-called justice is your Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

She sighed, taking Ryan's hand. "But in this age, what more can you do than patch one hole after another? So many have died. Your efforts are limited. Why not take advantage of your youth and enjoy life with me?"

The mention of Hogwarts threw Ryan into turmoil. He pushed Kylia away and stepped back. "Enough talk. Leave now. I've brought you here. If you don't go, I'll turn on you."

"Even if you turn on me, I'll still take you down there. You've been involved with me. The wizarding world will label you a heretic. They won't spare you."

"No one knows," Ryan said, shaking his head.

"Your companion knows. When he returns and finds me gone, he will—"

Before she could finish, a faint laugh echoed from above them.

"You're overthinking. I wouldn't kill him."

Kylia's face changed instantly. She shoved Ryan aside, looked up, and bared her sharp fangs. Her fingers grew dangerously sharp.

On the abandoned roof of the station stood a slim yet upright figure. Backlit by the giant moon, his eyes gleamed with a piercing light, and his smile was dazzling.

Through the gap in the roof, he squatted down. "Why the hostility, Miss Bowman? Must you slander me so thoroughly? Do you think I'm so vile that I would betray and kill my friend?"

"You dared to follow me?"

The vampire snarled furiously, her mouth stretching to her ears. Her muscles shifted from supple to rigid, and her eyes turned from white to an enraged, blood-red hue.

"Of course. I'm not stupid," Hoffa said, unfazed by her transformation. "Thanks for leading me here. I wouldn't have found this place otherwise."

With a resounding thud, Kylia launched herself like a cannonball toward the boy perched on the station's ceiling.

"Die, you vile creature!"

Hoffa stood and cracked his neck.

In less than a second—perhaps half a second—the vampire reached him, her razor-sharp claws aiming for his heart.

The smile vanished from Hoffa's face.

His response was a punch of unimaginable speed and power.

The force sent Kylia flying back down. She crashed into the ground, creating a massive crater ten meters wide.

Boom!

The impact shook the earth. Rust from the ceiling rained down like dust.

"Stop!"

Ignoring everything, Ryan rushed forward. In his frantic run, he tripped over debris and fell to the ground.

The woman who had been holding his hand moments ago now lay with half her chest caved in. She was embedded in rubble, gasping and coughing blood, her face contorted in pain.

"Kylia, my God... Merlin's beard..."

Ryan trembled as he pulled out his wand, trying to heal her horrifying injury, but he didn't know which spell to use.

With a light thud, Hoffa landed beside the entrance Kylia had opened. He called out, "Hey, what are you waiting for? Come on."

Kneeling beside the bleeding vampire, Ryan looked up in disbelief, staring at Hoffa as though he were a stranger. "What are you doing?!"

Hoffa casually approached, glancing at the wounded vampire before looking at the enormous moon in the sky. He muttered, "Still so full of life?"

"You used me?"

Ryan knelt on the ground, his face tilted up at Hoffa.

"It's not 'use.' It's cooperation," Hoffa replied, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his knuckles. "You said we needed to find common ground. Well, here we are. We've located the vampires' stronghold."

Ryan leaped up, slamming Hoffa against the wall and raising his fist high. "You bastard! You used me!"

Dodging the punch, Hoffa frowned. "Why the drama? What else could I do? Are you coming or not?"

Tears streaming down his face, Ryan screamed, "I trusted you, Bach! And you did this to me!"

Hoffa's expression turned cold. Glancing at the time on his black gloves, he said, "Fine. Tell me, what did I do wrong?"

Ryan pressed his wand against Hoffa's chin.

"You knew I couldn't resist her charm! You left me alone with her, even giving me a key for no reason. Then you chased after us like a cat playing with a mouse, and before my eyes... Before my eyes!"

"Oh, come on, mate. It's not like you got the short end of the stick," Hoffa said dismissively, brushing off Ryan's wand. "Sleeping with a gorgeous vampire—many would kill for that chance."

"Why didn't you try it yourself then? Do you care about anything? What am I to you? Half an hour ago, I told her I liked her. And now, you expect me to send her entire family to Azkaban. What have I done? Are you even human?!"

Ryan's incoherent, furious rant ended with him throwing punches at Hoffa's face. But after a few strikes, Hoffa grabbed his fists, pinning him to the wall.

"Don't blame me for your failures."

Hoffa's voice was calm but cutting. "I didn't strip you, nor did I spare her life. You couldn't control your own mind and body, and now you want to blame me?"

"You set me up!" Ryan rasped, tears flooding his eyes. "You left me alone, knowing I was afraid. How could you do this?"

"If you can't handle it, go back to Hogwarts and train for a few more years before coming out. A wizard who can't control his thoughts or body isn't a wizard."

Hoffa's golden eyes, devoid of whites, were unyielding as stone. His grip on Ryan loosened, and Ryan collapsed to the ground, kneeling.

Hoffa looked down at him and said, "Someone has to play the villain while another plays the hero. Otherwise, how would she believe you? Besides, she's used this trick on many others. Did you really think someone who met you two hours ago could fall in love with you? Don't kid yourself. It's all an illusion."

Ryan glanced at the vampire's bloodied face. She was gasping for breath, too weak to speak, but her eyes remained fixed on him.

What kind of gaze was that?

Survival. Pain. But it wasn't limited to just that—there were other emotions intertwined within.

Hoffa placed a hand on his shoulder and crouched down. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about this. Let's just keep it as our little secret, shall we?"

Ryan slowly averted his gaze, his voice barely audible.

"You're right. I'm far from perfect. I'm not like you. You never saw her as a person, nor did you see me as a companion. You've changed. Back when you cast the Shield Charm, you were confident and kind. But now? You've become so restrained and ruthless. Perhaps it's just the way of the world, but you truly are the most unconventional of all Ravenclaws."

He raised his head. "As for what happens next... I won't be involved anymore. I'll return to school, confess to my headmaster, and let someone else handle this."

"And you?"

"Who knows? Maybe I'll end up locked away in Azkaban with her. That wouldn't be such a bad ending."

"Wishful thinking," Hoffa sneered. "Do you think they'd throw you in Azkaban just because you were with a vampire? Laughable." He dragged Ryan to his feet. "Your lucky streak ends here, Ryan Garrison of Hufflepuff. Some things are meant to be left behind. Get too attached, and you've already lost. Don't forget, you still have a city to save."

"Maybe I'm just not cut out for this—overambitious, underachieving, and lacking resolve. I..."

"Get in."

Without hesitation, Hoffa raised his hand.

Boom!

With a deafening roar, the vampire lying in the pit was seized by enormous steel claws, encasing her in a massive iron cocoon.

"I haven't killed her yet," Hoffa said coldly. "If you truly want to save her, come with me underground and expose the mastermind. Otherwise, she's as good as dead."

Chloe was terrified. Three days had passed since she and Hoffa had been separated. In those three days, she hadn't suffered any hardships—in fact, she was treated with an almost absurd level of care.

A group of young women, around her age, had stripped her of her black-and-white nun's robe and dressed her in a flowing crimson gown. Its luxurious texture made her feel as though she was wearing nothing at all.

Every day, these girls brought her an array of exquisite fruits and meats. She dared not touch the bloodstained meat, unsure of what creature it had come from, and instead nibbled only on the fruits.

She tried speaking to the girls, hoping to find a kind soul who could help her escape.

But the girls seemed soulless, responding only with sweet, unchanging smiles, no matter what Chloe said.

Gradually, she began to suspect that these girls weren't alive—that they were merely puppets driven by magic.

Her fear grew day by day. She had no idea where Hoffa was, whether he was alive or dead, or if he would even come back for her.

Surely he would, she tried to convince herself.

But another thought crept in, like a devil denying her hope.

If he were still alive, he would have come by now. With his abilities, he should've found her quickly. Why was it taking so long? Had he grown tired of this journey and chosen to abandon her?

Time crawled by, weighed down by worry and unease.

On the third day, the grand door to her room opened at its usual time. But this time, it wasn't the doll-like maids who entered—it was an elderly man in an opulent green robe.

He wore a gentle smile, though his nearly bald head gleamed under the light. In one hand, he held an ornate golden tray piled with vibrant food. His other hand, tucked into his sleeve, appeared oddly deformed.

"Oh, hello there. How have you been resting?"

The old man sat beside Chloe, setting the tray near her. She glanced at it—only fruits—and felt a faint sense of relief. After a few days here, she'd pieced together who had captured her: not German wizards, but British vampires.

"What do you want?" she asked, her tone calm. She had already resigned herself to the fact that there was no escaping fate.

"Just bringing you some food and asking for a little favor from Miss Lemae," the old man replied, his smile warm but his raspy voice carrying an unsettling edge.

Yet Chloe shuddered and instinctively leaned away. His smile exposed large, crimson gums that stirred a primal fear.

"Don't be afraid. I mean you no harm."

The old man spoke casually, as if chatting over tea. "I've heard you possess a unique power. With enough magic, you can see events from different times. Is that true?"

"Did Mance tell you that?" Chloe countered.

"No," the old man chuckled. "I didn't need to ask him. The Ministry of Magic told me. Don't underestimate my reach—I even know who your closest relatives are."

With that, he pulled a slender glass syringe from his chest and set it on the table. The liquid inside was unmistakable to Chloe—magic restoration potion.

Clearing his throat, the old man continued, "Ahem. I've been restless, worried that someone might disrupt my rebirth ceremony tonight. I want you to look and tell me who it might be."

"You think I'm some kind of Gypsy fortune-teller?"

Chloe scoffed, glancing at the syringe before sneering at herself. "If I were as powerful as you say, I wouldn't be here now, your prisoner."

"That's because you were careless. If a horse goes wild, it's not because it's weak—it's because the rider lacks control. With me, you'll master your abilities."

Chloe forced a laugh. "Think carefully—if you give me magic, I might vanish right before your eyes, and you'll never find me again."

"How curious," the old man mused, stroking his chin. "The one who told me about you didn't say that. They claimed you see fragmented images of the past or future during a magic surge, and only with enough power do you enter a time-traveling state."

"Who told you that?"

"I can't say," the old man winked. "But if you behave well, after tonight, I'll take you to meet them myself."

Chloe shook her head. "It's true—I see fragments during surges. But managing the magic flow isn't easy. If it exceeds..."

"I'll handle that."

The old man cut her off, moving behind her. From beneath his robe, he extended a twisted, mangled hand and pressed it against her temple.

His body partially dissolved into countless chittering black bats.

The swarm snatched the potion from the table, pierced her neck with the syringe, and injected the transparent liquid.

Half of the man's face loomed near her ear amidst the swirling bats. "Don't worry. Just look. If you manage to escape me, consider it your luck."

She had no room to resist. The potion's magic surged through her veins, and Chloe gasped, sinking heavily into the chair. Her eyes rolled back as an overwhelming flood of information poured into her mind.

In that moment, all sound ceased.

As if her soul had left her body, she could see everything happening around her, hear the whispers hidden within the gray, blurry images. Her consciousness floated upward like an omnipresent ghost, endlessly rising.

It seemed there was a banquet taking place. Countless maids, holding various utensils, moved swiftly and methodically through the gloomy castle, resembling worker ants in a nest—silent and loyal.

In Chloe's vision, their steps were unnaturally fast, moving at ten times the normal speed. Her awareness followed these rapidly moving maids to a grand hall.

"How much longer until Grindelwald arrives?"

She saw a man in a red robe, seated at one of the banquet tables, impatiently ask, "If he's coming, shouldn't he have arrived by now?"

"Important people always make a late entrance, don't they?"

Mance enthusiastically took drinks from the maids, helping place fruit platters and pitchers on the table, as if hosting his own Christmas party.

The red-robed wizard frowned in displeasure. "I hope you understand your position. You're not just an employee of the Wizarding Association; you're also an officer of the Germanic Nation."

"What are you worried about?" Mance asked in surprise.

"I'm worried you're not prioritizing my orders," the red-robed man said coldly. "You're treating this like a hotel dinner service instead of ensuring everything is perfect."

Mance set down the gold goblet he was holding, pushing the man aside as he spoke softly, "Master Crestel, cheer up. Tonight will surely be a night of joy for all. Everyone will get what they want. The duke will become a prince, and your son will return to normal. No need to always look so stern."

"You foolish Muggle," Crestel sneered. "If Grindelwald can really bring Ankell back, I'd gladly deliver as many heartfelt speeches as you'd like. And if Ruseven wants to launch an attack on the British Ministry of Magic later, I'll fully support it.

But first, I need to see him. If Grindelwald doesn't show, you won't live to see another day. Don't think I've forgotten the responsibility you bear."

"He'll come," Mance said, slightly uncertain. "Maybe he's just been delayed."

Whatever more they said was lost to Chloe as her consciousness continued to rise, uncontrollably spreading outward. It reached a side room adjacent to the hall.

There, several women dressed in the same translucent red tasseled robes as Chloe stood. The only difference was that they wore heavy shackles on their hands and feet and golden masks on their faces.

In the dark corner of the room, a few red-robed wizards poked and prodded the women carelessly and crudely, speaking in jest.

"These Muggle girls are quite a sight."

"That old pervert has a good eye. Shame they're just for the vampires."

"What's their purpose?"

"A blood sacrifice, probably. Legends say the God of Night loves the blood of young women. To please it, they'll have to slit the throats of dozens."

"Does such dark magic even exist?"

"Who knows?"

Before Chloe could fully process what she'd seen, her drifting consciousness absorbed the information and moved on, spreading faster and seeing more. She passed through rapidly stacking banquet tables, maids scurrying like lightning, creaking castle floors, and paused briefly in a dark corner of the castle's attic.

There, several figures in black robes were whispering.

"Days are passing. We've dragged this all the way from Paris to Britain, and we've gained nothing."

"I suspect that fool Mance is playing us."

"Playing us? I saw that 'Lemay' person. She can't even cast a Lumos charm. Soon, she'll just be a vampire's snack," one of them said venomously. "That Mance is clearly treating us like fools."

"Exactly. Now that the higher-ups are here, he's acting like a lapdog, not daring to utter a word."

"Let's just stick with the stronger wizards. Forget all this nonsense about seeing the future and new powers. There's no such thing as shortcuts in this world."

"Yeah, cut our losses."

"Cut our losses."

"And when we do, we shouldn't let Mance off easy. He's wasted so much of our time; he'll have to pay."

"What do you propose?"

Before Chloe could hear more, her awareness broke away again. Her consciousness ascended beyond the attic to the open night sky outside the castle.

There, Chloe saw a massive full moon unlike any she had ever seen before. But in her vision, the moon wasn't just a celestial body.

Ancient and enigmatic power surged from it. For a fleeting moment, she saw a vague, fetus-like figure floating within the star-like entity—like a womb, like a mother.

Driven by curiosity, she continued floating upward, hoping to glimpse the truth behind this ancient star.

As she ascended, she broke through the spell's barrier and into the real world. However, during her ascent, a familiar figure appeared in her vision.

It was two boys—one standing, one kneeling—engaged in what seemed to be an argument. In the distance lay a vampire sprawled in a pool of blood.

During their dispute, the gray-haired boy suddenly looked up, startled, gazing directly at the spot where Chloe's consciousness lingered.

The moment she saw Hoffa, the flow of magic in Chloe's body froze. She was pulled out of that wondrous, almost omniscient state of observation.

The next second, her pupils returned to normal, and she found herself back in the vampire's chamber. Her heart pounded fiercely, and her body was utterly drained of strength.

The green-robed old man eagerly moved in front of her, his unsettling gaze fixed on her eyes.

"Tell me, what did you see? Is someone planning to disrupt my banquet?"

The man's horrifying appearance remained as terrifying as ever, yet Chloe felt an uncharacteristic calm. Hoffa had come. He was looking for her.

She smiled faintly and shook her head. "No, I didn't see anything at all."

(To be continued)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09