Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The narrow corridor didn't last long. Ahead of them appeared a staircase leading upward, with an iron hatch at the top. The three pushed the hatch open and emerged from the passage. A flash of firelight followed them before the hatch slammed shut with a metallic clang.

Thick smoke billowed around them, choking their lungs and leaving them unable to speak. Scattered coal dust and ash covered the ground. To their surprise, they found themselves crammed inside a fireplace.

The trio crawled out of the fireplace and collapsed onto the smooth floor, coughing violently.

There was no time to rest. Hoffa returned to the fireplace, tugging at the iron hatch at its base, fearing that Nightmare Anker might burst through. But when he pulled on it, he discovered that the hatch was welded shut—it wouldn't budge.

Nightmare Anker hadn't followed them. His crazed voice had vanished the moment the hatch closed. Hoffa sighed in relief and slumped to the floor, utterly exhausted. The world spun around him, and he no longer had the energy to think about the absurdity of the situation.

In the surreal nightmare realm, every rule was distorted.

The silence lasted less than a minute before suppressed laughter broke it.

"Hahaha…"

Hoffa turned to see Aldo lying on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughed between fits of coughing. He was staring at Hoffa's head.

Feeling something was off, Hoffa touched his own head. His face darkened instantly—Nightmare Anker had burned off half his hair. He didn't need a mirror to know how ridiculous he must look.

"Hahaha!"

Aldo continued laughing.

Summoning his strength, Hoffa got to his feet and kicked Aldo in the chest, sending him sprawling. "What's so funny, you idiot!?"

Aldo stopped laughing, collapsing onto the floor like a pile of mud. His laughter turned into sobs. "Without Anker, what's the point of going back?"

"If you loved him so much, why don't you go keep him company down there?" Hoffa retorted bitterly, his mood at rock bottom.

"Love him? No one hates him more than I do! Arrogant, self-centered, ruthless. But he's a descendant of the Association's leadership. If anything happens, the blame will fall on me!" Aldo tore at his own hair in anguish.

Seeing Aldo's pitiful state, Hoffa sighed, saying nothing more.

Surviving during wartime was never easy for anyone.

He turned to look at Chloe, who sat silently on the ground. She neither laughed nor cried, but stared blankly at the ceiling.

Following her gaze, Hoffa noticed a colorful painting of the Virgin Mary on the ceiling, a crucifix hanging on the wall, and rows of empty white beds and iron frames on the floor, resembling a hospital ward for intravenous treatments.

A chill ran through him. Where the hell are we now?

Behind him, footsteps echoed.

Chloe lowered her gaze, staring at something behind Hoffa.

A man's voice, tinged with surprise, called out, "Chloe, why are you so filthy? Did you fall into a fireplace?"

Hoffa turned to see a middle-aged man dressed as a priest. He had neatly groomed black facial hair, an average build, and hands tucked gracefully into his sleeves, exuding elegance.

Hoffa looked at Chloe. "Is this your dream?"

Chloe bit her lip and clenched her fists, saying nothing.

The elderly priest approached the trio. "And who might you be?" His eyes fell on Hoffa's half-burned head, and his mouth twitched, as though suppressing laughter.

Before Hoffa or Aldo could respond, more footsteps sounded. This time, the steps were light and numerous, clearly belonging to a group.

The large door swung open, and a procession of nuns entered. They wore pristine black-and-white habits with veils and seemed to be around Chloe's age, save for the one leading them.

The leader was a tall, middle-aged nun with neatly styled hair and striking green almond-shaped eyes. Her features were graceful, but the agitation and unease on her face reminded Hoffa of a young widow named Mary he had once encountered.

"What happened, Leme? Why are you in such a state? Who did you fight with?"

Her gaze swept over Hoffa and Aldo with clear disapproval, as though demanding answers.

"Hey, are you the ones who did this to her?" she asked sternly.

Chloe shook her head.

Behind her, the younger nuns noticed Hoffa's half-bald head and began giggling, covering their mouths. The sight annoyed him. It was bad enough to be mocked by Aldo; now Chloe's subconscious was joining in. He looked like this because he had risked himself to save them!

"Are these your friends?" the middle-aged priest asked, raising a hand to quiet the nuns' laughter. He seemed more composed than the agitated nun.

Chloe nodded.

The priest sighed in relief and said to the tall nun, "Shanisa, calm down. These two don't seem like troublemakers."

"Can't say they seem like good people either," the middle-aged nun said sternly, her tone unwavering. "Regardless, the convent is about to enforce curfew. If you have questions, need guidance, or wish to pray and confess, come back tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, she pulled Chloe up from the ground. "You're always causing trouble. Go clean that layer of soot off yourself—surely you don't want to pray looking like this?"

"No... I don't," Chloe replied hoarsely.

"Then hurry along," the nun ordered, frowning as she pushed Chloe lightly on the back.

Chloe hesitated, pointing at Hoffa. "Sister Shanisa, he's my friend. Can he stay here?"

"Oh, dear child, what nonsense are you spouting? This is a convent. We don't take in men at night. Besides, neither of these two needs treatment, and there's no reason for them to stay here."

Hoffa couldn't help but ask, "Then where do you expect us to go?"

"Back to where you came from. And—wait, what happened to your head?" The middle-aged nun's brow furrowed, as if noticing Hoffa's half-bald head for the first time.

"The barber and I have some unresolved issues," Hoffa said dryly.

The nun's mouth twitched, and her almond-shaped eyes narrowed sharply. In a tone that brooked no argument, she said, "Stop with the nonsense. Go home. Don't make your family worry about you so late."

With that, she led Chloe deeper into the convent.

"Wait," Hoffa called out, wanting Chloe to stay.

The middle-aged nun shot him a disapproving glance. "What do you want now?"

Hoffa hesitated, lowering his outstretched hand. "Can I speak to her privately for a moment?"

The nun gave him a stern look and coughed. "Whatever you wish to say can be said openly. Under the Lord's light, nothing is hidden."

She placed a firm hand on Chloe's shoulder, preventing her from moving an inch.

Hoffa was at a loss.

Everyone turned to watch him—the middle-aged priest, Aldo, and the group of young choir nuns. They seemed genuinely curious about what he might say.

Strict subconscious, he thought to himself. Not even a whispered conversation was allowed.

He sighed, looking at Chloe's pale face and helpless eyes. He understood that her spirit had been utterly worn down by the torment of the nightmare.

"What now..." she murmured faintly.

Hoffa lowered his voice, speaking in cryptic terms, "When unnecessary, avoid material form."

The Parisian night remained as it always was.

Pedestrians came and went on the streets, but many covered their mouths to stifle laughter upon seeing Hoffa's peculiar hairstyle as they passed by.

Hoffa stood at the entrance of the Tychal Convent, staring at the towering Eiffel Tower in the distance. He felt utterly defeated. No matter how much he wandered, he couldn't escape this place. After Chloe was taken inside by the convent, both he and Aldo were unceremoniously thrown out.

Aldo suddenly began coughing violently beside him, covering his mouth as thin strands of clear liquid seeped through his fingers.

After his coughing fit subsided, he rasped, "Why did you agree to leave Miss Leme inside alone? What if she's in danger?"

"You're worried about her?" Hoffa asked, surprised.

"She saved me once… in my dream," Aldo replied hoarsely.

"Who would've thought—a dark wizard with a conscience," Hoffa said with a wry smile.

"I suppose Mr. Bach doesn't care to understand the honor of the German people," Aldo retorted.

"I only wish more of them shared your guilt. Dreams are tied to emotions, and I didn't want to do anything to agitate Miss Leme. Just because that nun barred us from entering doesn't mean I can't sneak in."

"When do you plan to…" Aldo's words were interrupted by another fit of harsh coughing, water dribbling from his mouth as he did so.

Hoffa pointed at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Aldo muttered, wiping his wet nose. "Probably just a cold."

"Aldo," Hoffa said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the distant lights. "There's no future in following Grindelwald. Believe me, he doesn't care about the wizarding association, much less about your lives. His only goal is to spread nihilism and suffering."

Aldo looked at him, startled. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Compared to Anker, you still have a shred of conscience. Come with me to England. If you stay in Germany, that conscience of yours will be eroded by slaughter and war sooner or later."

"Is England any different? You speak as if your hands are clean. I didn't see you hesitate when you killed Dominic."

"You can't tell right from wrong?"

"Sorry, I don't have the luxury of choice."

"You do have a choice."

"A choice?" Aldo scoffed bitterly. "We're trapped in a nightmare, unable to escape. And here you are, trying to convert me. Truly, Mr. Bach, you live up to Grindelwald's tutelage."

"What if I find a clue that leads us out of this nightmare?"

Aldo stared at him, wide-eyed.

Hoffa placed a firm hand on Aldo's shoulder. "I need your help, Aldo."

Aldo shrugged off his hand. "What are you planning?"

"I need to investigate something, and it might mean we'll have to separate for a while. During my absence, I need you to protect Chloe Leme. That shouldn't be too hard for you, right?"

"You trust me?"

"This concerns all our lives," Hoffa said gravely. "I have a theory about this nightmare. If you can keep Leme safe, I'm seventy percent sure I can lead us out of here."

Aldo stared at him for ten full seconds before finally nodding.

"Just this once. Only for Miss Leme's sake."

Hoffa's expression turned serious. "I don't know what might happen, but this nightmare is designed to manipulate human emotions. Since this is her dream, you must ensure her mental stability until I return. Can you do that, Aldo?"

"I'll try," Aldo replied.

(End of Chapter)

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