Harry Potter: I am the Legend

In a secluded corner of the castle, Hoffa held the slip given to him by the head of St. Mungo's Hospital, flipping it back and forth. On the photo, a disheveled man with a gloomy expression stared back, exuding an air reminiscent of Sirius Black. But compared to Sirius, this man seemed far more composed.

Norbert Hagrid.

The surname sounded oddly familiar. Hoffa's pale, slender fingers traced the black-and-white photograph on the parchment. Wasn't there a character named Rubeus Hagrid in the original story? Could they be related?

Then again, Hagrid might not be an uncommon surname.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Quickly, he stuffed the flyer into his chest pocket.

Out of the shadows stepped Aglaia. She squatted beside Hoffa, hugging her knees.

"Enjoying the view from my side of the castle?" she asked with a smile.

Hoffa glanced at her but didn't respond, turning his gaze back to the scenery instead.

Aglaia sighed, resting her hand on his shoulder and giving it a small pat. "Come on, Hoffa. This isn't like you. You're not the type to back down easily. Sitting here won't earn you their respect."

A whirlwind of thoughts surged through Hoffa's mind. At that moment, he found himself envying Harry Potter from the future—his friendships with Ron and Hermione were so pure, untouched by complications or ulterior motives.

He sighed deeply. "Aglaia, I don't get it. Are these the kinds of people you surround yourself with?"

"What else?" Aglaia countered. "A hundred Hoffas or a hundred Mirandas?"

"I don't like it," Hoffa said bluntly.

Aglaia tilted her head. "You don't like it?"

"Yes. I'm tired of all these trivialities," Hoffa said calmly. "Dealing with troubled girls and patients with grass growing out of their heads at the hospital, acting in plays to kill boredom, celebrating birthdays with spoiled brats like these... I thought your family might be more interesting."

Aglaia sighed. "What do you like then? Adventure?"

Hoffa didn't respond, but his silence was telling.

Aglaia continued, "Hoffa, life isn't an adventure. Life is inherently mundane. Maybe you should try talking to them. Who knows, you might find—"

"They're not interested in me, and I don't know what to say to them. I have no clue about their world," Hoffa interrupted.

"You could learn," Aglaia suggested.

"Why can't they try to understand me?" Hoffa stood up abruptly.

Aglaia was taken aback, looking up at him, clearly not expecting such a sharp reply.

Irritated, she said, "Hey, I just wanted to introduce you to my friends. Why are you reacting like this?"

"Don't lecture me. You're nothing like this at school," Hoffa shot back.

"That's at Hogwarts! At home, I can't even use magic. I'm not an adult yet. And have you forgotten how dangerous last year's adventure was?"

"Enough," Hoffa raised his hand, cutting her off. "Don't worry about me."

Aglaia fell silent, her fingers fidgeting nervously. After a pause, she asked, "What was on that paper you were looking at earlier?"

Hoffa's brows furrowed. "How's that your business?"

"Are you planning to run off on some reckless mission again?"

"You seem to know me well," Hoffa replied nonchalantly, though her accurate guess annoyed him.

"Did Yago give that to you?"

Hoffa didn't respond.

"Listen, Yago's a notorious flirt. He's spewed more nonsense than I can count. Don't believe a word he says. And besides, there's a war raging outside—"

"Give me a form, I'll fill it out, and hand it back. Someone asks my name, I'll tell them. Someone asks what one plus one is, I'll say two.

After work, I'll find a fast-food joint, listen to people complain about their bosses, and occasionally hear them cheer over shared opinions.

I'm sick of it, Aglaia. I've had enough. I just want... to do something I've never done before."

After a long pause, Aglaia's voice was tinged with sadness. "Really? When will it end?"

Hoffa didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the distant shadows of undulating mountains, lit by the yellow glow of swirling stars. Aglaia covered her face with her hands, stood up, and walked away.

Hoffa felt a twinge of guilt as a rift formed between them. But he had no solution. After sitting on the steps alone for a while, he too stood up and disappeared into the castle's stairwell.

An hour later, under the high-hanging moon, he left the brightly lit party and the lively castle.

Alone, he wandered through the streets and alleys, returning to St. Mungo's Hospital.

The hospital was eerily quiet. As he walked into the lobby, a female nurse sitting at the reception desk stared blankly at him.

It was his colleague who had taken over the night shift—a familiar face. But the way she moved her head, like an owl watching a mouse, unsettled him. Even as he stepped into the magical elevator, her gaze followed him, an odd, unfamiliar tension in the air.

As the elevator doors slowly closed with a chime, Hoffa arrived at the hospital's top floor.

There, bathed in moonlight, he knocked on a door.

A polite voice came from inside the room: "Come in."

He grasped the handle of the dean's office door and pushed it open.

What he saw inside, however, made him temporarily forget his own predicament.

The room, which had been brightly lit during the day, was now dim and softly illuminated. Numerous plant tendrils were slowly writhing, interweaving and climbing over the desk, sofa, chairs, and even the teapot. The entire room resembled the green inner walls of a living creature's stomach.

Having spent two years at the magic school, he naturally recognized these plants. They were Devil's Net, a type of vine that feared light and fire but could become unusually active and versatile under certain conditions.

Yet, the Devil's Net wasn't the most striking thing in the room. The centerpiece was a surgical table on one side of the room.

On the surgical table lay a golden retriever wrapped in bandages. The dog appeared to be severely injured, with both of its hind legs shattered by bullets.

A man wearing glasses and a white coat stood in front of the surgical table, quietly performing surgery on the golden retriever.

The interwoven vines in the room acted like nimble fingers, passing various surgical tools to the man.

The scene left Hoffa stunned.

Could this guy be someone who bombards enemies during the day and acts as a veterinarian by night? This was too bizarre.

The man, sensing movement at the door, turned around, his masked face revealing a subtle smile.

Hoffa stepped over two thick vines on the floor and walked slowly toward the man. As he approached, he felt numerous eyes observing him.

Looking around, Hoffa discovered that the room wasn't just home to Devil's Net but also housed a variety of cats and dogs.

Some timid animals stayed cautiously in the corners, while bolder ones approached Hoffa. Two Labradors sniffed him curiously, a bulldog looked up at him with drooping jowls, and two black cats circled silently around his legs.

Pulling his attention away from the animals, Hoffa focused on the man performing surgery.

Without lifting his head, the man said calmly, "Pass me the forceps."

Hoffa glanced at the surgical tray, picked up a pair of small forceps, and handed them over.

Taking the forceps, the man carefully inserted them into the golden retriever's injured leg and slowly pulled out a bloodstained bullet fragment clamped at the tool's end.

The golden retriever whimpered in pain.

The man immediately placed a firm hand on the dog's neck.

"Shh."

The retriever calmed down.

With swift precision, the man extracted several more bullet fragments from the retriever's leg.

"Alcohol," he requested.

Hoffa handed over the alcohol.

"Cotton swab."

Hoffa passed the swab.

"Gauze."

Hoffa gave him gauze. For a moment, he felt like an extra appendage of the Devil's Net vines.

Ten minutes later, the surgery was finished. The golden retriever lay on the bed, licking the man's fingers. The refined dean, while bandaging the wounds, explained, "It was injured in the war. But animals have remarkable resilience. Give them a chance and a bit of respect, and they'll repay you a hundredfold."

Hoffa didn't know how to respond; Jacob's demeanor had completely changed.

The man placed the bandaged retriever into a cage, removed his bloodstained white coat, and revealed a simple black outfit underneath. He leaned back in his chair behind the desk and relaxedly asked, "What brings you here?"

"I've made up my mind," Hoffa replied.

"Made up your mind about what?" Jacob asked without looking up.

Hoffa frowned. What was going on? Was this guy also a split personality?

But in the next second, he realized he'd overthought it. Jacob smacked his forehead in frustration. "Oh, my memory! I'm really getting old. You've agreed to help retrieve the stolen property, haven't you?"

"That's right."

At this moment, one of the Devil's Net's tendrils quietly pushed a chair behind Hoffa and nudged his shoulder, signaling for him to sit.

He took a seat. As soon as he sat down, two black cats jumped onto his lap, purring and rubbing their heads against his hand.

Despite the unusual environment, Hoffa couldn't resist scratching the cats' necks.

Then, another Devil's Net tendril brought a ceramic cup of coffee to him, stirring it with a small spoon.

One tendril even added a sugar cube to the coffee before nudging the cup toward Hoffa's lips insistently.

With both hands occupied petting the cats, Hoffa shifted slightly to allow the tendril to offer the cup. Relenting, he finally accepted the coffee.

"This mission is dangerous. I need to warn you," Jacob began. "The stolen item is a dragon egg. Those who attempt to tame dragons are never easy to deal with, and the thief isn't an ordinary criminal."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Jacob confirmed, pulling out a parchment map and handing it to Hoffa. "This shows the location of the missing dragon egg near the North Sea. You'll find it there."

Hoffa examined the map, which was covered with detailed markings of Britain. A faintly glowing blue dot pulsed near the North Sea. Nearby, Hoffa noticed a more infamous magical landmark: Azkaban Wizard Prison.

Jacob walked to a cabinet, retrieved a crystalline potion, and tossed it to Hoffa. "For safety's sake, keep this."

Taking the potion, Hoffa inspected the cold, transparent liquid in the small glass vial. "What is this?"

"A magic-suppressing potion. It halts the flow of magic in any being. If you encounter special circumstances, use it to control your opponent."

If the potion worked as claimed, Hoffa thought, it would be a powerful tool.

"Got it," he said, carefully storing the potion in his pocket. "Can I head out now?"

Jacob nodded.

As Hoffa reached the door, Jacob called after him, "Bach."

Turning back, Hoffa saw Jacob leaning against the desk, twirling his mask with a smile under the pale moonlight.

"Stay safe," Jacob said warmly.

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