Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Hoffa was about to enter the director's office to report on his duties, but as soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, faint laughter from inside stopped him in his tracks. His hand froze mid-air, and he stepped back to lean against the balcony railing.

After about five minutes, the laughter inside gradually subsided.

Footsteps approached. Leaning slightly on the railing, Hoffa turned his head just as the door opened. Two young nurses, faces flushed, clutched their chests, giggling as they walked out of the room.

Seeing Hoffa standing in the hallway, arms crossed and gazing at the scenery, the nurses exchanged a glance. Their smiles faded, and they lowered their heads, hurriedly walking away.

Hoffa withdrew his gaze and turned to look into the room.

A man stood at the desk, his back to Hoffa, adjusting his collar. Scattered papers lay in disarray on the floor.

The man was middle-aged, with deep nasolabial folds and dark brown eyes set into pale, slightly sunken sockets. It was evident that he had been very handsome in his youth.

Having worked here for over a month, Hoffa naturally recognized the current director of St. Mungo's Hospital—Jacob Bohan, a man who had held the position for nearly a decade. A notorious womanizer, Jacob was, by blood, Aglaea's uncle.

Jacob glanced at Hoffa and gestured for him to come in.

Holding the papers, Hoffa walked into the room, the air thick with a cloying fragrance. He held his breath, kicked aside a crumpled piece of paper on the floor, and handed the documents to Jacob.

Jacob took them, sitting heavily in his chair, and began flipping through them quickly, seemingly uninterested.

During this time, Hoffa clasped his hands behind his back, silently watching. What concerned him was whether his violent beating of Boten would have unforeseen and serious consequences.

After a while, the director spoke:

"Two-thirds of his bones are broken, intracranial bleeding, organ displacement, severe concussion, high-level paralysis. Fortunately, this is St. Mungo's Hospital, or you'd be facing murder charges, Mr. Bach."

Jacob raised his eyes from the documents and glanced at Hoffa.

"When Aglaea recommended you, I had high hopes. I thought a Ravenclaw would be more composed."

"He disgusts me," Hoffa said softly.

"Oh, don't be so cynical."

Jacob casually pointed to a glass bottle of liquor nearby.

Hoffa glanced at the bottle, then at the hospital director, walked over, opened the bottle, poured a drink into a glass, and pushed it over.

Jacob drained it in one gulp, straightened up, and clasped his hands together. "I once met someone very much like you. He didn't turn out to be much of a hero."

"Who?"

Hoffa was intrigued.

"Never mind that. Let's not get sidetracked. Do you understand how serious this incident is?"

Hoffa nodded silently.

"After all, this is a society governed by laws. Even wizards have rules to follow."

Jacob frowned, then relaxed. "You might face some legal proceedings—but only if I report this matter."

Hoffa felt uncertain.

Jacob chuckled. "I've heard of you, Hoffa Bach, and the things you've done. Honestly, keeping you in this role feels like a waste of your talent."

With that, he tossed the medical reports aside, pulled another document from beneath a stamp on his desk, and handed it to Hoffa.

"Take a look."

Hoffa, puzzled, accepted it and realized it was a wanted poster—one he'd seen earlier in The Daily Prophet.

The poster featured a bearded man holding a large suitcase, facing away from the crowd, his expression cold and wary. In just a glance, the man disappeared into the crowd.

"Norbert Hagrid. An alchemist, dragon tamer. That soldier you saw today? He was killed by one of Hagrid's dragons."

Hoffa's eyes widened. "And?"

"A week ago, a Far East cargo ship was transporting a large number of dragon species to Europe for research at St. Mungo's.

But this guy intercepted the ship near the North Sea, stole all the dragon species, and killed five people, injuring ten more. What he didn't know was that those dragons were marked with a special magical seal by our hospital. Check the back of the document."

Hoffa flipped the paper over and found a magical map on the back, with a faintly glowing blue dot.

Hoffa was startled. "You want me to capture him?"

"Can you?" Jacob sneered.

Hoffa hesitated, then sighed in relief. He had been overthinking. How could a third-year student like him be tasked with such a mission?

Jacob's expression turned sly. He clasped his hands together. "You're not an Auror, so I don't need you to capture anyone. But this guy stole from our hospital, and I will have our property returned."

He said firmly, "Go. Retrieve what that old crook stole, and your assault incident will be forgotten."

Jacob placed his empty glass on the table, signaling for Hoffa to leave.

Hoffa glanced at the document in his hand, then at Jacob's indifferent, dismissive demeanor. It made him uncomfortable.

He felt utterly disrespected. Jacob looked at him as if he were no more than a waiter.

"What if I refuse?" Hoffa asked.

"Refuse?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such defiance.

"Kid, do you understand your situation? You could be charged at any moment."

Hoffa rubbed his fingers calmly. "I just want to know—what happens if I refuse?"

"Nothing much. You'll be sent to Azkaban to await trial. But I imagine Dumbledore would bail you out eventually, wouldn't he?"

"Dumbledore knows about this?" Hoffa asked immediately.

"No, he doesn't."

Jacob grinned slowly. "Not yet, anyway."

Hoffa's throat moved slightly. "Let me think about it."

The dean smirked. "I imagine you wouldn't want him to find out either."

After saying that, he stood up, patted Hoffa on the shoulder, and said:

"Decide quickly and come find me. I hope we can retrieve the hospital's missing items before the school term begins."

When Hoffa left the dean's office, the night sky was already dotted with stars.

Holding the wanted notice in his hand, Hoffa felt conflicted. Rationally, at just 13 years old, venturing into a war-torn world was absolutely unwise. Moreover, he had already promised someone else something—how could he go back on his word now?

But on an instinctive level, there wasn't a hint of fear within him. Instead, he felt excited.

He longed for a more thrilling life and utterly disliked his boring duties at St. Mungo's Hospital. More importantly, he didn't want Dumbledore to find out about him beating someone up at the hospital.

As he walked, staring at the paper in his hands and lost in thought, his mind kept repeating the same question:

To go or not to go?

Go.

Don't go.

Go.

Don't go.

Deep in thought, Hoffa bumped into a finger. Startled, he looked up.

A silver-haired girl stood in front of him, hands on her hips and a mischievous grin on her face.

Startled, Hoffa instinctively hid the papers behind his back.

"Quite the temper you have there. How does it feel to beat someone up?" Aglaia poked his chest with her finger, pressing closer. Somehow, she had shown up at the hospital.

Hoffa darkened his expression and brushed her hand aside.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was worried that if I didn't come, you'd end up demolishing the whole hospital." Aglaia clasped her hands behind her back and teased, "Do you even remember what day it is today?"

Hoffa didn't answer, quickly walking past her. He knew it was Aglaia's birthday, but he had completely forgotten to prepare. No gift, no plans—he felt like a terrible friend.

When Hoffa showed no reaction, Aglaia's eyes narrowed. She quickened her pace.

"You forgot, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't."

Hoffa stuffed the papers into his pocket and picked up his pace.

"Then why are you acting so dodgy?"

"I was just about to go buy your gift," Hoffa said, feeling a little guilty.

"Are you really going to buy something?"

"Really," Hoffa replied, walking faster.

In truth, he really was heading to buy something, hoping the gift shop hadn't closed—or been bombed by Muggle planes.

"I don't need anything. I lack nothing," Aglaia sighed.

"Really?"

Hoffa felt a little uneasy and grew alert.

"I'm not performing in a play," Hoffa declared firmly. "It's too embarrassing."

"What?"

Aglaia laughed, shaking her head. She stopped, grabbed Hoffa's arm, and turned him around.

"Do you think I came to ask you to act in a play?"

Hoffa gave her a wary look, noticing a trace of dissatisfaction on her face.

"Then what do you want from me?"

Aglaia sighed deeply. "My mother asked me to inform you that, because of your unrestrained violence against your coworker, you've been fired."

"Really?"

Hoffa exclaimed with joy but quickly realized it wasn't appropriate. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his tone.

"Oh, that's... unfortunate."

Aglaia rolled her eyes. "So, tell me, what's your next plan?"

Hoffa's hand unconsciously moved to his waist as a strange desire began to rise within him. But in a flash, reason suppressed it. He shook his head.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Still undecided? If you're not sure, come act in a play."

"Get lost!"

Aglaia burst into laughter. When she finally stopped, she said, "Fine, you don't have to act in a play. But you must come to tonight's banquet! I have a lot of friends who want to meet you."

(End of Chapter)

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