Harry Potter: I am the Legend

A long, long time ago, the scorching sunlight illuminated the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro, presenting a stark contrast to the icy chill at its summit.

On a cliff, two men dangled precariously from tree branches, one above the other, both in comically awkward positions.

The first, a man with golden hair, had his clothing snagged on a branch, leaving his feet dangling midair and one shoe missing.

The second was in even worse shape—a stout, muscular man hanging upside down from vines. His arms were splayed in a large "X," like an inverted crucifix.

Gravity pressed his wizarding robe against his face, revealing his white, bulging underpants and a few stray hairs sticking out mischievously.

The wind blew.

The upside-down man swayed gently on the vine.

Watching this absurd and laughable scene, the golden-haired man's mouth twitched. Then he burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the vast canyon, carrying far and wide.

The man whose face had turned purple from hanging upside down started cursing. But after a while, even he managed a bitter smile. At this point, neither of them had the energy or inclination to keep fighting.

After who knows how long, their laughter finally ceased, and they began to speak normally.

Grindelwald asked, "If we survive this, is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Why the hell should I tell you? Do you think we're really going to survive? We'll get roasted to a crisp here, have our eyes pecked out by vultures, and die with no one to bury us."

Grindelwald thought for a moment, then nodded. "Imagination helps ease the pain. Considering we're unlikely to make it, why not indulge a little?"

"Imagination is nonsense. Humans don't need it," Norbert replied flatly.

"I see," Grindelwald said, no longer arguing and choosing silence instead.

Norbert struggled for a while but couldn't free himself from the vines. Panting, he asked, "Hey, can you Apparate?"

Grindelwald raised his head from his thoughts and replied, "Without a wand, how do you plan to Apparate?"

"Wandless magic. Can't you do it?"

"You lost my wand, and now you're asking if I can perform wandless magic? Don't you feel ashamed?" Grindelwald asked coolly.

Norbert licked his lips and shook his head.

After a moment, Grindelwald shrugged, shook his head as well, and closed his eyes. Slowly, his mental energy caused the surrounding rocks to grow into a stone platform. The vines binding Norbert unraveled on their own, and Norbert fell onto the platform with a thud.

"What kind of magic is this?" Norbert asked in amazement while rubbing his arms.

"Magical transformation. Using mental power to alter the environment—it's a form of Transfiguration," Grindelwald replied, releasing his own bonds and landing on the platform.

"And you said you couldn't do it?"

"I can't Apparate. I'm not that strong yet. Let's find my wand first," Grindelwald replied, tearing a vine and tying it around his waist as he descended the cliff.

"Strange guy," Norbert muttered, watching him.

He followed suit, tying a vine around his waist and sliding down.

Their luck held as they descended. The farther they went, the denser the trees and vines became, offering more points of support. However, despite their efforts, they couldn't find the wand that had fallen off the cliff earlier.

At about 2,000 meters above sea level, they reached another stone platform. There, Norbert spotted the box that Jacob had discarded.

The box had been shattered, its contents—a dragon egg—smashed into pieces. Most of the shell had crumbled, and pinkish liquid was scattered everywhere, glinting harshly in the sunlight.

Amidst the shimmering mess, the liquid appeared to flow with purpose, gathering at the center of the platform. There lay a single intact dragon egg, lying quietly as it absorbed the surrounding liquid like a silent abyss.

Startled, Norbert glanced at Grindelwald, who returned his gaze. The fragile camaraderie they had just formed instantly vanished.

Both men dashed toward the egg at the same time.

Grindelwald, faster by a step, reached the peculiar egg first and snatched it up. Almost immediately, Norbert grabbed him by the throat.

"Give it to me," Norbert demanded coldly.

"What do you want with this?" Grindelwald pried Norbert's hand off his neck and kicked him away.

Norbert climbed back up and insisted, "I need it."

"Why?"

"This egg is the pride of the Hagrid family for generations. I must have my own beast," Norbert said, lunging again.

"Pride?" Grindelwald laughed loudly. A stone sword grew from the ground. He seized it and held it to Norbert's neck.

"If I chop you into pieces, would you still dare talk about that nonsense you call 'honor' in front of me?"

As he spoke, the stone sword in his hand began to shimmer with a metallic sheen, becoming razor-sharp.

Norbert glanced at the blade near his neck and then at the gray dragon egg in Grindelwald's hand. Swallowing hard, he rasped:

"My father spent his whole life obsessed with fire dragons. He tamed countless of them, only to be killed by one during the Franco-Prussian War. My grandfather? The same. He died while taming dragons for Gringotts, devoured by a Swedish Short-Snout. And my great-grandfather—"

"Fatalism," Grindelwald interrupted. "Dragons have no souls. They're just beasts. What pride is there in taming a wild animal?"

Norbert replied earnestly, "You can think that way if you want, but for me, my life won't be complete unless I see the fiercest predator, the most uncontrollable beast in the world."

"And then?"

"Then, I'll master it!"

Forty years later.

In Devon, England, in an abandoned Muggle hotel bombed by German planes, a stout, burly man sat slumped on the ground, clutching a few tins of canned food. He slept fitfully, his face marked by exhaustion and struggle.

In the distance, the faint barking of dogs echoed, growing closer.

The barking stirred Norbert from his sleep. He jolted awake, sitting up in a sweat.

Outside, beams of searchlights swept rapidly across the area. Soldiers with Lee-Enfield rifles and leashed hounds searched the grounds. Leading them were two Aurors who Disapparated with a sharp crack and reappeared on the rooftop.

Downstairs, the sound of a door being kicked open reverberated through the building, followed by the thundering of boots. Norbert grabbed a nearby suitcase, clutched his wand, and pressed himself against the wall.

Moments later, his room's door burst open, and the soldiers fired a barrage of bullets into the bed without hesitation.

When the gunfire ceased, feathers from the shredded bedding floated through the air. The soldiers cautiously approached.

Suddenly, Norbert sprang from the shadows by the doorframe, grabbing two soldiers by their heads and smashing them together. The soldiers collapsed, but the commotion immediately alerted the Aurors on the roof.

The Aurors Disapparated with sharp cracks.

Norbert followed suit, vanishing with a pop.

Amid three consecutive Disapparitions and bursts of blinding magical flashes, silence finally fell over the area.

Carrying his suitcase, Norbert stumbled onto an old cobblestone street. The surroundings were eerily quiet, save for the tolling of a midnight bell.

He scanned the empty street and exhaled in relief. Releasing his grip on his bleeding arm, he revealed a deep wound, the bone visible beneath—a souvenir left by one of the Aurors.

He knew it wouldn't be long before they caught up with him again.

At the corner of the street stood a red telephone booth. Limping toward it, Norbert entered, picked up the receiver, inserted a coin, and began dialing.

After a few turns of the rotary dial, the call connected. A steady male voice answered, "What's the matter?"

The tone suggested he already knew who was calling.

"What's the matter?" Norbert hissed angrily into the receiver. "When are you going to be ready? When the hell can I get out of here?"

"Five people have died because of you! One soldier was even ripped in half by your fire dragon. How exactly am I supposed to cover this up for you?" the man on the other end demanded, his fury barely contained.

"Shut up! What do you expect me to do—deliver the damn dragon egg to you on a silver platter? Or maybe you think my fire dragon is going to start eating carrots?"

The man on the line fell silent for a moment before asking, "What's your plan?"

"What's my plan?" Norbert spat, his voice dripping with venom. "I'm wanted across the entirety of Britain because of you! Do you want me to rot in Azkaban for this?"

He spat on the floor in frustration. "Cersei is dead—killed by those Aurors. I've got no allies left. Listen, if you don't get me somewhere safe soon, I'll head to Germany."

The man's tone turned cold. "Mind your language. I've made the arrangements. When will you get here?"

"Mind my language? Thirteen dragon eggs! If you breed them properly, you could build an entire fire dragon army!"

"When will you get here?" the man repeated, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Norbert reined in his temper. "Rupert and I will leave tomorrow. It'll take us about three days to get to Scotland."

"That long?" the man said, clearly dissatisfied.

"Long?" Norbert roared. "I've got Ministry of Magic bloodhounds on my tail! I'll get there when I get there."

With that, he slammed the receiver down.

As soon as he hung up, the barking of hounds echoed from the distance. Out of the shadows emerged countless three-headed dogs, racing toward him.

A fierce wave of magical energy rippled through the air as wizards Apparated in and out of the sky in quick succession.

Norbert bolted out of the phone booth, running desperately without stopping.

Behind him, flashes of spells streaked through the air, chasing him down.

This time, it took fifteen consecutive Apparitions before he managed to shake off the pursuing Aurors.

Finally, he appeared inside an old residential building. Quietly, he climbed to the second floor, pushed open a door, and turned on the light.

What met his eyes was a crooked little room, cluttered with discarded cardboard boxes and packed suitcases piled haphazardly on the floor.

A tall figure shifted in the bed.

"Turn off the light, Dad."

The person on the bed mumbled sleepily.

"Alright."

The impatience and tension faded from Norbert's face. He turned off the light and cautiously peered out the window. With a few flicks of his wand, he cast protective enchantments over the space.

"Was it hard?"

The tall figure sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Exhausting. Got into a fight and stole a few things."

Norbert replied while keeping an eye on the street outside.

"Did you get food? I'm starving."

The tall figure, now fully upright, revealed a young, innocent-looking face.

Norbert chuckled, opening his suitcase. "Take a look at this."

He pulled out a few cream-filled pastries and canned goods from the suitcase.

The boy leapt out of bed and rushed to his father's side. But as soon as he leaned over to sniff the food, he wrinkled his nose and pinched it shut. "Dad, you smell awful."

"That's dragon urine. Don't you like it?"

Norbert laughed heartily, ruffling Rupert's hair.

"Gross!"

"Heh, don't worry. Someday, you'll grow to love it."

"Is it Cersei's urine?"

Norbert's smile froze for a moment. He shook his head, kissed the boy lightly on the forehead, and handed him the food. Then he walked into the bathroom, removing his clothes and tending to the wound on his arm.

Meanwhile, the boy sat on the bed, eating a can of food. "You've been gone for three days. You're not leaving again, are you?"

"I'm about to take you to a new place. Somewhere we won't have to keep running."

"Is it Hogwarts?"

The boy asked excitedly.

"No."

Norbert rinsed his hands, the sound of running water punctuating his words. "We're not going there."

"Okay," Rupert muttered, a little disappointed.

After a moment of silence, he said, "Dad, last night when I looked in the mirror, I noticed something strange. The reflection was smiling at me, but I wasn't smiling."

"Really?"

Norbert replied nonchalantly, still busy washing up. "You're reaching the age when your magic starts to manifest. You're a wizard, Rupert. It happens."

"Did that happen to you when you were my age?"

"Nope. I had lots of brothers growing up. They kept me company, so I didn't need imaginary friends."

Norbert finished his quick shower and started brushing his teeth.

"That wasn't an imaginary friend."

The sound of water splashing filled the room. Norbert spat out a mouthful of foam, rinsed his mouth, got dressed, and walked back into the room. Sitting beside Rupert, he pulled the boy close and spoke softly:

"Rupert, remember this—imagination is a beautiful thing, but too much of it can trap you in the quicksand of nothingness. Do you understand?"

"Dad, what's nothingness?"

"Nothingness is the scariest monster in the world."

As he spoke, Norbert playfully waved his hands like claws.

"It'll devour your soul, swallow your hope, and crush your will until you turn into a monster just like it—or worse, you'll die!"

With that, he lunged at Rupert and began tickling him.

The frightened boy screamed, but the scream soon turned into laughter that filled the shabby little apartment.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09