Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Hoffa was unfazed by the captain's rifle, which posed no threat to him. His icy gaze turned sharply, trying to spot who had thrown the bolt at him. Standing on the moonlit deck, clad in pajamas and panting heavily, was Chloe.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"What are you doing wandering around at this hour?" Hoffa shot back.

"That's what I should be asking you!"

She strode over to Hoffa, pointing at Matthew, who was clutching his bleeding ear in shock. "Don't tell me you were trying to kill him."

"That bastard… vile scum," Matthew growled, finally realizing what had happened. Furious, he grabbed a knife from his belt and lunged at Hoffa's chest.

The attack was clumsy. Hoffa sidestepped effortlessly, caught Matthew's wrist, and with a swift twist and pull, sent him sprawling. Before Matthew could recover, Hoffa hoisted him into the air like a rag doll.

The captain fired his rifle, but Hoffa used the flailing Matthew as a shield, slamming him into the captain. Both men were knocked into the wall, the rifle clattering uselessly to the floor.

Hoffa's expression hardened as he grabbed Matthew by the hair, pinning him to the ground with one foot. "Stay down," he hissed, his voice dripping with menace.

"Stop it! Stop it right now!" Chloe shouted, stomping her foot.

Hoffa turned to her, his rising fury etched into every line of his face.

"Don't kill him!" Chloe yelled. "That's the line you must never cross! Do you hear me?"

"And what makes you think I was going to kill him?" Hoffa replied coldly. "Don't lecture me."

"I saw your hand transform into a blade," she countered.

"So you've been spying on me," Hoffa said, his tone sharpening. "Guess you've been watching for a while."

"I knew you wouldn't let this go! You promised me, Hoffa! Come back with me!"

"These people are planning to kill us! Do you understand? They're going to poison you tomorrow morning!"

"And that gives you the right to—"

"What, kill him outright?" Hoffa cut her off.

"Of course not!" Chloe shouted, stamping her foot in frustration. "If you kill him, how are you any different from him?"

The pretense of harmony shattered. The stark difference in their values—born of their vastly different worlds—was laid bare. The air grew thick with tension.

Hoffa let out a disdainful laugh. "Don't preach your morality to me."

"Listen to me, Hoffa," Chloe pleaded. "If you kill everyone on this ship and steer it to Britain at that cost, I'd rather jump into the sea than go with you."

"Oh?" Hoffa sneered, arching an eyebrow.

The commotion woke the ship's other passengers. Soon, the doorway to the captain's cabin was crowded. Among them was Mary, the young widow, accompanied by the ragged children they had picked up.

Seeing Hoffa clutching Matthew by the hair and the captain slumped in the corner, Mary gasped, covering her mouth.

"What… what are you doing?" she stammered.

Matthew, spotting her, shouted as if grasping at salvation. "This man is not on our side! He boarded this ship to change our course, to lead us into the dangers of Britain! He's nothing but a liar!"

Mary took a sharp breath, stepping back in fear as she stared at Hoffa. "You… you deceived me?"

Hoffa's plan had been exposed.

Expressionless, he let go of Matthew, who collapsed to the floor and scrambled toward Mary.

"Mrs. Dean! Mrs. Dean, please, get this man off the ship!" Matthew begged.

Mary, trembling, looked at Hoffa. "So… so there's no German wizard after Frank, is there?"

Hoffa tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

Chloe glanced between Mary and Hoffa, understanding dawning on her. She reached out to comfort Mary, but the widow shoved her away.

"You… you're working together! You're all in on this… deceiving me!" Mary cried.

"Explain it to her, Hoffa," Chloe urged, her voice tense.

But the gray-haired boy in the center of the cabin remained silent, his cold laughter breaking the oppressive quiet.

The sound was chilling, like a cold wind sweeping through the depths of hell, sending shivers down everyone's spines.

He inhaled deeply, then stepped forward, planting his foot on Matthew's head, pinning him once more.

He leaned down, grabbing Matthew by the hair again. As his immense spiritual energy radiated outward, the metal walls of the ship creaked under the strain.

Matthew's face twisted in terror, and a dark stain spread across his pants.

"So what if I lied? So what if I didn't?" Hoffa's voice was cold and unyielding. "Do you think I care what any of you think? No. You're gravely mistaken. I don't care about your opinions or the means it takes."

Chloe stumbled back, leaning against the railing.

This boy, this gray-haired youth she thought she knew, now seemed like a stranger.

Hoffa's icy gaze swept across the room, lingering on each person. "Out of respect, I played by your rules. But not anymore. I don't care how you do it, but in three days, I want to see the British coastline. If I don't…" His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "No one on this ship will live."

With those chilling words, he smashed his fist into Matthew's face, breaking his nose. Blood spattered as Matthew collapsed to the floor, clutching his face in agony.

"Stop it, Bach!" Chloe screamed.

"As you wish, Sister," Hoffa said mockingly. He tossed Matthew aside like a sack of trash, brushed past Chloe, and left the cabin without a backward glance.

By dawn, the ship had turned 90 degrees, now heading straight for the British coastline. But the atmosphere aboard was heavy with fear and tension. The violence and bloodshed from the night before hung over the crew like an invisible storm cloud.

The fangs of a wizard had been revealed.

At breakfast, Chloe carried a tray to Mary's door. On it were slices of bread and a cup of water.

She took a deep breath and knocked gently.

A raspy, anxious voice came from within. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Are you okay?" Chloe asked softly.

"Go away!" Mary shouted.

The widow's irritated voice came from inside the room.

Chloe sighed. "I'll leave some food at your door."

"Wait a moment."

"I'm here."

"Come in," the widow suddenly changed her mind.

Chloe opened the door to find Mary curled up in the corner of the room, hugging her knees, paralyzed with fear.

Chloe walked over, gently patting her shoulder. "Eat something, won't you?"

"Will he kill me?" the widow asked in fear. "If we can't steer the ship to Britain in two days?"

"I won't let that happen. I promise you," Chloe said softly.

"What's the use?" Mary cried hysterically. "He doesn't listen to you. You can't control him!"

Seeing the widow so distraught, Chloe could only continue patting her back, unable to come up with a better solution.

After sobbing for a while, Mary wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and patted her chest. "Calm down... calm down," she muttered to herself, trying to steady her nerves.

She thought for a moment before asking, "What does he like?"

Chloe froze.

"What did you say?"

"I asked, what does he like?"

"I... don't know what he likes."

"Isn't he your friend?"

"We've only known each other for less than a week."

Mary nearly fainted but gritted her teeth, pulling herself up and moving to the vanity. With trembling hands, she started rummaging through her makeup kit.

"What are you doing?" Chloe asked.

Mary gritted her teeth and snapped, "What else can I do?" She began applying makeup as she spoke.

As she painted her face delicately, adding cherry-colored lipstick, she took off her modest black gown and put on a rather revealing red blouse and extremely short shorts. At a glance, it was nearly as if she wasn't wearing anything at all—quite provocative.

Chloe wasn't sure how to stop her and could only sigh softly. "Trust me, this won't work."

"Is he gay?" Mary asked, horrified.

"No... Listen, I don't know. I don't understand him, but you shouldn't degrade yourself like this."

"If he's not that type of man, then it'll be fine," Mary muttered, relieved. "Men are all the same. Frank used to beat Matthew, but he never laid a hand on me."

She adjusted her hair, took a deep breath, and stood tall, radiating newfound confidence.

She checked herself in the mirror one last time. "I'm going," she declared.

With that, Mary left the room, closing the door behind her.

Chloe sat on the bed in a daze, utterly unprepared for the situation to escalate to this point. She hadn't been able to stop Mary's decision, nor did she know how to. Whatever method Mary chose to find security was her own choice.

However, less than three minutes later, the door opened again.

Mary stood there, her perfectly made-up face looking utterly defeated. She slammed the door shut behind her, threw her small fan onto the vanity in despair, and covered her face. "Why am I so unlucky?!" she wailed.

"What happened?" Chloe quickly asked.

"I knocked on his door, but he didn't respond. He didn't even open it!"

"Well..." Chloe was at a loss for words, her emotions a complicated mix.

Ignored, the widow's fear turned to helpless tears. This time, she was truly despairing. Her carefully applied makeup soon streaked down her face, ruined by her sobbing.

Crying, she paced the room. "We're doomed! Doomed! There's war everywhere, people dying everywhere. Losing my husband was bad enough, but now I have to deal with an evil wizard. Why am I so unlucky?! Why?!"

"Actually... you could come with me to Britain," Chloe said cautiously.

The nun suggested, "My grandfather has an estate in England. If you come with me, I'll turn that estate into a convent, and we can live there together."

"No, no, you must be in league with that... Bach person," the young widow hysterically began smashing things in the room. Pointing at the nun, she shouted without thinking, "You two are plotting against me, trying to trick me into going to England, then sell me off, and I'll spend the rest of my life in a brothel, becoming the plaything of countless ugly men! Even if I die, I will never accept that fate!"

"Hey, what's going on in your head!?" Chloe sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead in frustration. "Listen, if I were that kind of person, or if that guy were like that, you wouldn't have come back so quickly."

Her words made Mary silent.

Finally, she scoffed coldly. "It's definitely because he's abnormal. If I went to find Matthew like this, he'd probably be overjoyed. After Frank died, those idiots were always trying to get me into bed. Hmph, they should take a look at themselves before dreaming about that!"

"Since you're saying all this, you might as well try. Maybe things will change. Living in constant fear like this, giving up your dignity... it's not worth it."

"England is too dangerous," the widow interrupted Chloe without hesitation. "Everyone knows it's the worst place for war, and the most people die there."

"It's fine," Chloe replied. "I have a great-great-great-grandfather who's been alive for hundreds of years. He's seen it all, the worst of it. If it's about staying alive, he says no one can do it better than him."

Mary, now less emotional, wiped away her tears. "Is that true? Is your grandfather also a wizard?"

"Actually," the nun whispered, "I'm a witch too."

"Prove it to me," the widow immediately demanded.

Chloe gave a bitter smile. "I can't prove my abilities, but I swear on my faith that I will never deceive you."

Looking into Chloe's light purple eyes, the widow finally calmed down. She slowly spoke, "You're not like him, or anyone I've ever met."

Her expression shifted from dark to bright as she thought for a moment.

Curiously, she asked, "Is your grandfather really powerful? Are the other people in your family also wizards?"

Chloe sighed, somewhat reluctantly, and replied, "He's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. It's kind of like the Minister of Defense for Muggles. If that helps you feel better..."

"That's amazing!" The widow clapped her hands and laughed. If it weren't for the tear stains on her face, no one would have guessed she had just been crying uncontrollably. "I'll go to England with you."

"Yeah, that's great," Chloe said, forcing a smile. Something felt off to her. Things weren't turning out as she had imagined.

Just a few seconds after her brief happiness, the widow once again became worried.

"But... but I don't know anything. Will I be a burden to you? I... I don't even know how to speak much English."

"It's fine," Chloe gently reassured her. "I can teach you."

"Really?"

"Really. I promise."

(End of Chapter)

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