Harry Potter: I am the Legend

As the Scharnhorst battleship scoured the seas in search of the missing nun, thousands of miles away in a dark cavern in England, a sinister ritual was underway.

Three male wizards knelt back-to-back on the ground, their arms raised and twisted into grotesque positions. Beneath their knees lay a complex sacrificial array, glowing with an eerie green light. The array drew life force from the victims' nostrils, the energy swirling upward into the air and feeding into a vortex-like image fragment.

A flickering silhouette sat motionless in a chair, intently staring at the transparent, swirling image fragment before them.

Within the fragment appeared an industrial hall shrouded in steam and filled with gears. Everywhere, there were clocks and hourglasses. At the center of the hall stood a massive golden orrery, slowly rotating. With each rotation, a flash of white lightning illuminated the hall.

Dozens of wizards in uniformed robes stood beneath the giant orrery, waving their wands. Each wand movement caused a clock or gear to shift. It appeared they were conducting a sacred ritual or perhaps an arcane experiment.

"A grand scheme... hmm," muttered the flickering figure behind the image fragment.

Footsteps echoed.

A tall figure approached the shadowy silhouette. "The Leviathan is in place. Barring unforeseen circumstances, you'll never see him again."

"Unforeseen?"

The shadowy figure chuckled coldly. "No, there will certainly be unforeseen events."

"I've witnessed the creature's power. No one could escape it," the woman said softly.

"You're trying to lull me into complacency, aren't you, sister?" the shadow replied icily.

"You misunderstand. I'm only saying that you haven't rested in days. Perhaps you should."

"A true wizard never rests. I'm certain Bach will find a flaw. Proceed with the contingency plan."

After a moment of silence, the woman asked in a low voice, "But what if he doesn't make it out?"

"Then it proves he is unworthy of being my opponent," the shadowy figure replied coldly.

"Chloe!?"

Hoffa rose unsteadily from the boat, unease evident in his voice as he called out for his companion. There was no response.

A dense mist cloaked his surroundings, warping the sunlight and forming an impenetrable wall between the island's forest and its beach. Visibility was limited to just five or six meters. The ground beneath him was not pure seawater but a sandy shoreline dotted with large, round stones draped in rotting seaweed baked by the sun.

Above, countless seabirds circled and squawked incessantly, unafraid of humans.

Unconscious during their arrival, Hoffa realized that the lifeboat had drifted to an unknown island.

The wounds inflicted by Dominic still throbbed with pain. Ignoring his discomfort, Hoffa struggled onto the slippery stones, carefully stepping through shallow waters until he reached the beach. The sandy terrain was barren, uneven, and riddled with potholes, making traversal difficult.

He walked haltingly along the shoreline, occasionally shouting Chloe's name and listening intently for any unusual sounds beyond the cries of gulls and the crash of waves. If Chloe had made it ashore, he reasoned, she would have left some sign of her presence.

After a while, he spotted a trail of footprints.

Initially hopeful, he quickly noticed the prints were far too large to be Chloe's. They were from an adult male and accompanied by drag marks. Growing cautious, Hoffa silently followed the trail.

Not far along, he came upon two unfamiliar figures.

The men were wearing wet, black wizard robes. One, a burly figure, stood on the tide-soaked beach covered in sand, like a porter. The other, smaller and weaker, had been dragged from the water. He leaned against his companion's arm, coughing violently.

Amidst the coughing, the larger wizard noticed Hoffa standing nearby. He abruptly dropped his companion, pulled out his wand, and shakily pointed it at Hoffa.

The smaller wizard fell back into the sea with a splash, choking on seawater before scrambling back onto the sand. He, too, drew his wand with difficulty.

They were German dark wizards—clearly part of the group that had followed him to this island.

Hoffa quickly ducked behind a large reef, pressing himself against the wet stone. His magical gloves were still with Chloe, and his wounds hadn't healed. Now was not the time for a fight.

"Come out!"

The two dark wizards, not in the best condition themselves, raised their wands. Staggering and vomiting seawater, they shouted in German.

Hoffa peeked out cautiously from behind the reef.

Spotting him, the wizards waved their wands aggressively.

"Confringo!"

"Cruciatus!"

Hoffa immediately ducked back, pressing against the reef as spells whizzed past.

However, after waiting for a while, Hoffa still didn't hear the sound of any spells striking the reef, nor did he sense any magical disturbances. All he could hear was the monotonous crash of waves against the rocks.

He cautiously peeked out again. The two black-robed wizards were standing under the sunlight, examining their wands with puzzled expressions, much like Muggles inspecting waterlogged firearms.

Seeing Hoffa's head appear once more, the two German wizards nervously began flinging their wands wildly, shouting spells:

"Expelliarmus! Avada Kedavra! Stupefy!"

A torrent of curses spilled from their mouths as if there were no limit to their arsenal.

Hoffa quickly ducked back behind the reef, his heart pounding. After waiting tensely for a while, there was still no sign of any magical activity. The rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the reef persisted, making it seem as if only the three of them existed in the vast world.

Something was off.

The two wizards seemed unable to produce any magic. Hoffa didn't know why, but whatever had caused their malfunction, he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip. Without hesitation, he sprang out from behind the rock, his fingers curled into claws as he charged forward.

Seeing his posture, the two dark wizards assumed he was about to cast a transfiguration spell. Startled, they stumbled backward, rolling clumsily before hiding behind another reef.

After retreating, they peeked out cautiously, only to find that the ground remained unchanged—nothing had happened.

Standing atop the reef, Hoffa raised his right arm, gripping his wrist with his left hand. To the wizards, he looked like an overly dramatic Muggle indulging in childish fantasies.

The two black-robed wizards, equally wary, held their wands aloft, their eyes darting nervously. The scene became so absurdly still that it resembled a silent comedy from the early film era.

Three seconds passed.

A bead of cold sweat rolled down Hoffa's temple.

Something was definitely wrong. He couldn't use his magic. It wasn't just blocked—it felt as though his body had been drained, leaving him hollow. Unlike the effects of an anti-magic potion, which merely suppressed magic, this felt like his magic was leaking out, flowing from nature through his body and back into nature. His body was like a balloon with a puncture, unable to hold even a trace of magical energy.

Was it because Chloe had taken his magical gloves?

The thought crossed his mind. Though this phenomenon was entirely different from mere magical exhaustion, he couldn't think of another explanation.

"Altor! That kid's useless—strike first!"

"Got it!"

The two dark wizards, realizing Hoffa was also unable to use magic, exchanged a glance, put away their wands, and grabbed pieces of driftwood washed ashore. They staggered toward Hoffa with crude wooden clubs as thick as his thigh.

Seeing two fully grown wizards charging at him with enormous clubs, Hoffa jumped down from the reef and bolted without looking back.

"Damn it, Chloe! Don't let me catch you!"

As he ran, he cursed Chloe venomously, trying in vain to cast a Disillusionment Charm, a Shield Charm, or any transfiguration spell.

None of them worked.

"Stop right there!"

"Hey, runt! Hand over LeMay!"

One of the pursuing wizards tripped and fell, while the other helped him up before continuing the chase.

Clutching his injured abdomen, Hoffa limped across the beach, his eyes darting frantically. I need a weapon. I need a weapon. Damn it!

As if in response to his silent plea, a glint of metal caught his eye on the distant shore. Focusing on the reflection, he saw it—it was Dominic's oversized cross-shaped sword, half-buried in the wet sand, miraculously spared from sinking into the sea.

Overjoyed, Hoffa splashed through the shallow waves and reached for the hilt, using all his strength to pull the massive blade free from the sand.

Fortunately, his regular physical training paid off; the immense weight of the sword didn't overwhelm him in this crucial moment.

With a weapon in hand, Hoffa's confidence surged. He stopped running and turned, grinning wickedly.

The two black-robed wizards saw him kneeling on the beach, seemingly praying in desperation. Encouraged, they approached, raising their wooden clubs high to strike.

When the distance between them shrank to less than three meters, Hoffa swung the cross-shaped sword in a wide arc. The iron edge sliced through the crude wooden clubs like butter, leaving behind jagged ends from which a few shipworms dangled.

It was only then that the two wizards noticed the weapon in Hoffa's hands.

"Anchor...!"

"Run!"

To their credit, they didn't hesitate. Realizing they were outmatched, they tossed their broken clubs aside and sprinted toward the forest without a backward glance.

"You're not getting away!"

Unwilling to let them escape, Hoffa dragged the heavy sword and gave chase.

The cross-shaped sword weighed nearly 30 kilograms, and his injuries slowed him down. Fortunately, the two wizards weren't in great shape either, stumbling and staggering after their ordeal in the sea.

In a slow, awkward pursuit, the three entered the forest.

The dense vegetation formed a canopy, blocking out the sun. The ancient forest was filled with strange, unidentifiable ferns, and the air buzzed with palm-sized insects. The surreal scenery made it feel like an alien world.

Blinded by rage, Hoffa failed to notice the strangeness of his surroundings. Gritting his teeth, he charged forward with a determined look, as if vowing to bring the two fleeing figures to their knees.

After passing through the dense and peculiar forest, they emerged onto a dried-up riverbed of sand. Sliding down the narrow riverbank, the scene abruptly opened up into an endless expanse of yellow sand.

The two black-robed wizards, still fleeing, began scooping up handfuls of sand and hurling it behind them as they ran.

Dust clouds rose, obstructing Hoffa's vision. He cursed inwardly, knowing the open terrain could be trouble. If the two decided to split up and run in opposite directions, which one should he chase?

Just as he braced himself for the possibility of them splitting up, something unexpected happened.

Through the swirling dust, the two wizards suddenly turned around and charged straight back at him.

Their reckless move startled Hoffa. For a moment, he thought they intended to fight to the death. He immediately raised his massive cross-shaped sword, ready to strike.

But he quickly realized why they had turned back.

From within the thick dust clouds, enormous worms several meters long emerged, writhing menacingly as they slithered behind the two wizards.

Boom!The dry riverbed cracked open as countless burrows appeared. Massive sandworms and multi-legged creatures began crawling out, their bodies writhing and entangling with one another. Layers of sharp, tooth-filled mandibles dripped foul, acidic saliva that reeked.

"Damn it!"

Hoffa swore aloud. Forgetting the two German wizards, he turned and bolted back toward the forest.

It didn't take long for the black-robed wizards to overtake him, brushing past as they fled. Hoffa gritted his teeth and glanced at the massive cross-shaped sword in his hand before reluctantly tossing it aside.

With over 30 kilograms of weight off his back, his pace quickened. Soon, he caught up to the two fleeing wizards.

One had bright red hair, and the other had golden-blond hair.

The red-haired wizard, noticing Hoffa gaining on them after discarding his weapon, suddenly extended his leg to trip him.

Still trying to sabotage me while running for your life?!

Hoffa leaped over the attempt and retaliated with a hard kick to the red-haired wizard's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Without a backward glance, Hoffa darted into the forest.

"Anker!"

The blond wizard quickly helped the red-haired one back to his feet.

"Move! Hurry!" urged the red-haired wizard, clutching his side.

Hoffa was the first to re-enter the forest, but it wasn't a safe haven. The dark, damp woods were now teeming with insects of all sizes, the most numerous being giant creatures the size of adults. Their appearance was a grotesque mix between centipedes and millipedes, with curved mandibles that gleamed in the sunlight.

Damn it, did I stumble into an insect nest?

Hoffa wasn't afraid of bugs, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted toward the beach, pursued by the swarming insects. Their numbers multiplied rapidly, forming a dark, churning mass that obscured the forest's original landscape.

Reaching the beach, Hoffa's eyes immediately locked onto a rocky outcrop rising from the shallows. Surrounded by turbulent waves, the rock seemed like a safe refuge.

He glanced back at the insects swarming onto the beach, their claws slashing and acidic saliva hissing. Without hesitation, Hoffa plunged into the shallow sea, swimming toward the rock. The insects stopped at the water's edge, either clawing futilely or spitting acid, but none dared to enter the water.

He exhaled in relief.

But before he could take a moment to process the bizarre events on the island, he heard splashes in the water behind him.

The two German wizards had also escaped the bug-infested island and were clumsily swimming toward the same rock.

Alarmed, Hoffa quickened his strokes, and the two wizards mirrored his frantic pace.

In the end, almost simultaneously, Hoffa and the two wizards reached the rock and scrambled onto it.

(End of Chapter)

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