Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The next morning, sunlight flooded the small rented room.

Norber was abruptly awakened by the sound of teeth being brushed. Outside, the faint rumble of airplanes and the wail of air raid sirens reached his ears.

He slowly sat up in bed as a youthful face peeked out of the bathroom door. "Hurry up, Dad, we need to get going!"

"Mm."

Norber rolled over and got out of bed.

"Is everything packed?"

"All packed!"

Ruber replied, toothbrush still in his mouth.

Norber began stuffing clothes into a suitcase. As he opened it, he carefully examined the dragon eggs he had taken from the Far East cargo ship.

But something felt off as he checked. He went through the eggs again, just to be sure, but the feeling didn't go away.

Turning to his son, who was now eating breakfast, he asked, "Where's the gray one?"

"The gray one?" Ruber looked puzzled.

"Yes, the gray one. The dragon egg on the shelf at home that hasn't hatched in decades."

"Oh, I packed that."

Ruber stood up curiously and pointed at the suitcase. "Isn't it in there?"

"Really?"

"Really, look." Ruber gestured at the contents. "Aren't all these gray?"

Norber rummaged through the suitcase again, then asked, "Are you sure? The gray one from the shelf?"

"The one on the shelf wasn't gray—it was colorful."

"What?"

Norber's expression froze. He was beginning to lose his patience.

"It was colorful, with really strange colors," Ruber said as he stuffed food into his mouth, speaking indistinctly.

Norber shook his head, suppressing his irritation, and asked again, "Did you pack it or not?"

"The colorful one? I don't think I packed it."

Taking a deep breath, Norber placed his hands on his hips and pressed his forehead against the wall. After a few moments of silence, his frustration erupted. He overturned the table, sending its contents clattering to the floor.

"I told you it was gray! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Do you even realize how stupid you are?!"

Ruber flinched at his father's sudden outburst and crumpled to the ground, sobbing loudly.

"I didn't see a gray one! The colorful one looked scary! I was too afraid to touch it!"

"How many times have I told you?! Pack everything properly before we leave! I only asked you to do this one thing, and you couldn't even manage that?!"

Norber's face twisted with rage, the veins on his neck bulging.

"I—I…"

Ruber stammered, unable to form a coherent response.

Norber rubbed his temples and raised a hand to silence him. He breathed heavily for about ten seconds before finally speaking.

"No, I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. You don't understand how important or rare that egg is."

"I—I…"

Norber sat down on the bed.

"Sorry for asking you to pack so much without explaining its value. You're not a mind reader, are you?"

Ruber nodded shakily.

Norber stood up and began putting on his clothes.

"W-Where are you going, Dad?" Ruber asked nervously.

"I'm going back to get it from our old house."

"But they'll definitely have people waiting for you there!"

"I'll find out when I get there," Norber replied coldly. "Stay here and wait for me to return."

"Okay," Ruber said. "Be careful."

"You too."

Norber opened the door, closed it behind him, and headed downstairs to a deserted corner.

Taking several deep breaths, he lashed out, kicking over a trash bin. Its contents—fish bones, scraps of paper, and slop—spilled everywhere.

"Damn it!"

He grabbed his hair in frustration.

"Forty years of research! I told you it was on the shelf, in the shrine, the gray one! I stressed how important it was! And you tell me it's colorful? Are you an idiot?!"

He kicked the trash bin again, sending it flying over ten meters.

"Damn it! You've ruined everything! All my years of work—gone because of you!"

Seven days later…

The North Sea.

The waves crashed relentlessly against the rocky shore. Fine drizzle fell from the sky, turning into drifting mist that blanketed the sea beyond the small coastal town.

The air in the seaside village was filled with a peculiar, fishy stench.

A short, muscular man with unkempt brown hair appeared on the damp street. He carried a backpack and wore a flat-brimmed hat, his expression sharp and watchful.

The man was Norber, who had been away from London for a week. Unable to risk apparition, he had spent an entire week traveling by train to this place he had once called home.

This was a desolate, remote town—a single street flanked by a dozen wooden houses made up the entirety of the settlement. It consisted of a pub, a general store, and a small inn that also served as a residence.

The brownish-yellow wooden houses lined the street neatly, their facades weathered. The dirty gray road below was marred by damp patches, clearly the remnants of spilled wastewater.

Carefully avoiding the puddles, Norber surveyed his surroundings, wary of any Aurors who might have followed him.

Soon, he arrived at a stone brick building. On the iron gate outside hung a wooden sign with the words "Inn Lodging" scrawled haphazardly in English.

Before entering, Norber felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. He glanced upward.

Through the swirling mist, a figure stood on the balcony, staring at him without blinking. It was a strange-looking youth with gray hair and golden eyes.

The boy carried a backpack and wore a black leather jacket. One hand clutched a steaming cup of hot cocoa, while the other rested on the balcony railing as he gazed down, his piercing eyes fixed on Norber's face.

Norber studied the boy for a moment, intrigued by his unusual appearance. But after a brief glance, he dismissed him. The boy seemed about the same age as his own son—not worth further attention.

Walking into the inn, Norber was greeted by a plump waitress in a white apron, her face beaming with hospitality.

"Lodging or dining?"

"Not lodging, just breakfast." Norber's eyes swept the room cautiously before he settled in a corner.

The waitress handed him a menu. Norber ordered milk and biscuits.

Not long after, a stout woman in a gray and white apron entered with a large tray, distributing food to the patrons.

When she reached Norber's table and set his meal down, he asked, "Excuse me, when is the next boat to Rurles Island?"

The waitress froze. "Rurles Island? There are no boats going there anymore."

"What? Why not?" Norber was surprised. "There used to be plenty of boats going there. Didn't Falco have a dedicated vessel?"

"Falco is dead. All the other boatmen are gone too."

The waitress sighed and straightened up.

"Judging by your accent, you must've stayed here before. How do you not know about this?"

Norber's expression grew serious. "How did he die?"

At the mention of Falco's death, the waitress lowered her voice and leaned closer. "He killed himself. About half a month ago. That island's haunted. Not just Falco—half the people there ended up killing themselves. You didn't hear about this?"

"Haunted? Suicides?"

Norber was taken aback.

"Exactly. Half the island's population went mad and threw themselves into the sea," the waitress said with a shudder. "It was a horrifying night. Afterward, no one dared stay on the island. The survivors fled by boat."

"What caused it?"

"No one knows. Everyone says the place is haunted."

She poured him a glass of milk. "No one dares set foot on that island anymore. You shouldn't go there either."

With that, she walked away, leaving Norber to his thoughts.

Watching her stout figure retreat, Norber slowly picked up the milk and took a sip. After a moment, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, murmuring to himself, "Suicides? Could it be Dementors escaped from Azkaban…?"

His gaze shifted to a large map of Britain hanging on the wall. Staring at the vast stretch of ocean marked on the map, he seemed lost in thought.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the inn, the gray-haired boy sat pretending to study the menu. But his sharp, golden eyes remained glued to the muscular man across the room, watching his every move with keen interest.

(End of Chapter)

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