Harry Potter: I am the Legend

In the dimly lit cave, a cold dagger pressed against Fadil's neck. He could feel the trembling breaths behind him.

Through the faint blue glow, Gallet recognized the assailant—it was Norbert Haig, the alchemist.

It seemed they had ultimately been one step too slow, allowing him to track them down.

Magic was unusable in the cave, and Gallet's mind raced. In the end, he decided not to act rashly.

Jacob, too, had now recognized the intruder. His hand inched toward his waist, but Norbert immediately tightened his arm around Fadil.

"Shh, don't move. Would you like to test whose hand is faster?"

Gallet raised his arms. "Let's talk. No need to get excited."

"Shut up, German," Norbert snapped. His gaze landed on Gallet, a smirk on his face. "I found nothing—the letter was a forgery. Maybe I should check another mountain. Oh, wait! What are you lot doing here? Sightseeing?"

"None of your damn business, shorty!"

Jacob roared, spitting on the ground. "Since when do I need your permission for anything I do?"

"Silence!"

Gallet shouted sharply, trying to rein in the situation.

But Jacob didn't stop. He sneered and spat, "You think you're worthy of working with us? Take a good look at yourself! You're nothing but a pathetic joke!"

Fadil, still being held hostage, wore an expression of sheer exasperation. Gallet firmly grasped Jacob's shoulder, trying to stop him from provoking Norbert further.

The tension in the air was palpable. Both sides were locked in a standoff. On one side stood Norbert, with his blade against Fadil's throat. On the other were the furious Jacob and the expressionless Gallet.

Despite Jacob's insults, Norbert appeared unfazed. Tilting his head slightly, he leaned closer to Fadil's ear and whispered:

"I was the one who referred you here. I'm the one stationed in this area. And you have the audacity to waltz into my domain and steal treasures from it? A proud heir of a pureblood family—reduced to thievery?"

"Come on, man," Fadil raised his hands in appeasement. "Whatever conditions you have, we can negotiate them."

"No, no, no," Norbert replied. "Negotiating is for businessmen. And right now, I have no interest in business—because you've shown no sincerity."

"Then what do you want?" Fadil asked.

Norbert's eyes shifted toward the box Jacob was holding. "Hand that over."

Jacob immediately took a step back, holding the box behind him. A fierce and unreadable light flashed in his eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

"Is that so?"

Norbert pressed the blade slightly deeper against Fadil's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. With one hand gripping the blade and the other outstretched toward Jacob, he said coldly, "Hand it over. Let me see."

"You shameless bastard!"

Jacob was seething with anger, almost on the verge of exploding. "Do you think you can just kill him and walk out of here? Do you think my family will let you get away with this?"

"Oh, yes. The esteemed Twelve Pureblood Families."

Norbert chuckled coldly. "But tell me, if all three of you die here, who's going to know? I've already instructed my men—if I don't return in five minutes, they're to inform the gravekeeper wizards below. Do you think you'll escape?"

"You—"

Jacob's voice faltered, his fury unable to mask the panic creeping in.

"Are you not afraid of dying with us?" he snapped.

"Why would I die with you?" Norbert sneered. "Think, idiot—I'll be the hero who caught the thieves red-handed."

Norbert spoke in a rasping tone, applying more pressure to the blade. A fresh stream of blood ran down Fadil's pale neck.

"Enough talking. Hand over the box."

Jacob remained defiant, retreating another step.

Gallet turned his head sharply. "Bohan, give it to him."

"What did you say?"

The dark-haired youth spun around in disbelief.

"I said," Gallet enunciated each word firmly, "give him the damned box."

Jacob hesitated.

"Give it to him!"

Gallet's voice rang out like thunder. "Don't make me repeat myself a third time."

"Damn it!"

Jacob's face twisted in frustration, as though he'd swallowed something vile. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward with the box. But just as he was halfway there, Norbert called out again:

"Wait a minute!"

Jacob froze mid-step, his body tense and motionless.

Inside the dim cave, a cold blade pressed against Fatir's neck. He could feel the trembling breaths behind him.

Through the faint blue glow, Gellert recognized the identity of the assailant—it was Norbert Haig, the alchemist.

They had been a step too late, and he had found them.

With magic rendered useless in this underground space, Gellert's mind raced. In the end, he chose to remain still.

Jacob, too, saw who it was. As his hand moved toward his waist, Norbert tightened his grip on Fatir and warned, "Shh, don't move. Want to see whose hand is faster?"

Gellert raised his arms. "Let's talk this out. No need for rashness."

"Shut up, German."

Norbert sneered at Gellert, mockingly adding, "I found nothing but a forged letter. What about you? Out here on a mountain hike? Or is this a little treasure hunt?"

"None of your damn business, shorty!"

Jacob roared, spitting on the ground. "Who the hell do you think you are, demanding answers from me?"

"Shut it!"

Gellert snapped, trying to rein Jacob in. But Jacob wouldn't stop, shouting, "And you wanted to work with us? Take a good look at yourself. You're nothing!"

Fatir, held hostage, showed a pained expression. Gellert gripped Jacob's shoulder, desperate to avoid further provocation.

Tension thickened in the air. Norbert, with a blade at Fatir's throat, faced an enraged Jacob and an eerily calm Gellert.

Norbert wasn't angered by Jacob's insults. He leaned close to Fatir's ear, speaking in a low voice:

"I'm the one who introduced you here, the one stationed here. And yet, you waltz into my territory to steal its treasures? A descendant of a noble pure-blood family, reduced to thieving?"

"Come on, man," Fatir raised his hands. "Name your terms. We can negotiate."

"No, no, no. Negotiation is for businessmen," Norbert said coldly. "And I'm not interested in business. You've shown no sincerity."

"What do you want, then?" Fatir asked.

Norbert's gaze shifted to the box in Jacob's hand. "Hand it over."

Jacob immediately took a step back, holding the box behind him, his face dark with fury. "Not a chance!"

"Is that so?"

Norbert dragged the blade slightly across Fatir's neck, a thin line of blood trickling down his pale skin. With one hand pressing the knife against Fatir, he extended the other toward Jacob. "Give it to me. Now."

"You've got some nerve!" Jacob snarled, trembling with anger. "Do you think you can kill him and walk away? Do you think my family will let you live?"

"Ah, the illustrious Twelve Pureblood Families," Norbert scoffed. "But if all three of you die here, who will know? My men are under strict orders: if I don't return in five minutes, the gravekeepers below will be alerted. Do you think you can escape?"

"You—"

Jacob's voice cracked, anger mixed with fear. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't dare risk mutual destruction!"

"Why would I? I'm the hero capturing the thieves," Norbert said hoarsely.

As he spoke, he suddenly applied more pressure to the blade. Fresh blood flowed from Fatir's neck.

"Enough talk. Hand over the box!"

Jacob didn't move, still retreating.

Gellert turned to him and commanded, "Give it to him."

"What did you say?"

The dark-haired youth whipped his head around.

"I said," Gellert enunciated each word clearly, "give him the damned box."

Still, Jacob didn't move.

"Do it!" Gellert barked, his voice sharp. "Don't make me say it a third time."

"Goddammit!" Jacob cursed, his face twisted in rage. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward with the box. But as he approached halfway, Norbert shouted, "Stop!"

Jacob froze.

"Both of you," Norbert said cautiously, "throw your wands here first."

Without hesitation, Gellert placed his wand on the ground and kicked it forward. Jacob, grumbling under his breath, threw his wand angrily. Norbert kicked the wands aside, then began retreating with Fatir toward the cave's exit.

"Now, come out slowly," he ordered.

Jacob and Gellert emerged from the passage, stepping into the open atop Mount Kilimanjaro. The starry galaxy glittered across the deep blue sky, breathtaking in its beauty, but none of them had the heart to admire it.

Standing at the mountain's edge, Norbert extended his hand. "Hand over the box. Don't try anything foolish, or the gravekeepers below will be notified, and none of you will escape."

Jacob picked up the box and walked toward Norbert, moving painstakingly slow. Watching the treasure slip from his grasp filled him with despair. Gellert, though outwardly calm, was equally tense—not for the dragon eggs, but for fear of harm coming to Fatir.

At last, Jacob stood within a meter of Norbert. "Stop," Norbert barked. Pressing the knife tightly against Fatir, he extended a trembling hand. "Give it to me."

Jacob, his hands shaking, passed the box forward. Norbert grabbed the handle. At that moment, Jacob's eyes turned red. "Are you dead set on being my enemy?"

Norbert hesitated. "I—"

Seizing the moment, Jacob pulled an icicle from his belt—he must have snapped it off in the cave—and plunged it into Norbert's abdomen without hesitation.

The sudden attack stunned everyone.

Fatir, sensing the danger, twisted his body despite his injured neck, trying to escape the blade. The icicle pierced Norbert's stomach, grazing Fatir's side. Enraged and shocked, Norbert swung his dagger to retaliate, but Gellert lunged forward, shoving Fatir back.

In the chaos, Gellert wedged his fingers between the blade and Fatir's neck, preventing a fatal wound. Jacob, meanwhile, viciously stabbed Norbert three more times.

"Die, scum!" Jacob spat, kicking Norbert in the chest. Blood sprayed as Norbert lost his balance, plummeting off the cliff.

Gellert dragged Fatir to safety, but the ground beneath him began to crumble.

As Norbert fell, his face twisted in fury. Pointing his wand upward, he shouted, "Confringo!"

The blue curse struck the cliff, shattering ice and stone. The edge collapsed beneath Jacob and Gellert, sending them tumbling into the abyss.

Fatir, barely stable, leaped forward, grabbing them with both hands. The force nearly dragged him over the edge. Blood streamed from his reopened neck wound, but he held on.

Suspended over a 5,000-meter drop, Gellert and Jacob dangled in midair, the freezing wind cutting through them. Their lives depended entirely on Fatir's straining arms.

"Let go of the box," Fatir groaned through gritted teeth.

Jacob, terrified, released the box, watching it disappear into the depths below. Yet the combined weight of two men was too much for Fatir to hold. His body slid closer to the edge.

In that moment, Jacob panicked. "Fatir, pull me up! You can't let me die!" he screamed.

But Fatir, pale and trembling, looked at Gellert instead. Gellert met his gaze, silent.

"Fatir, don't let go of me!" Jacob sobbed. "I have family—your family! Gellert has no one! Please!"

Tears mixed with blood as Fatir closed his eyes in torment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Gellert broke the silence. "Professor, I still have so much I want to do."

And with that, he let go, falling into the abyss with the shattered ice.

(End of Chapter)

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