Harry Potter: I am the Legend

"Uh…"

Indor froze for a moment, then quickly tossed his cards aside, laughing heartily in an exaggerated manner.

"Ah, ah, you all keep playing, keep playing! I had too much butterbeer; gotta hit the restroom."

"What? Seriously?"

"Wow, winning and then running off to the bathroom?"

"Nature calls, my friend."

With that, Indor grabbed at something invisible and squeezed out of the crowd. Under the crude jeers of his gambling companions, he cheerfully made his way toward the restroom. However, as he passed the stairs, he suddenly veered sharply and, like the wind, dragged the invisible Hoffa upstairs.

"You came so quickly—I was just on a lucky streak!"

Hoffa didn't respond. His headache was worsening by the second, and he couldn't figure out what was happening. All he could do was let Indor pull him along.

When Indor finally pushed open the door to a room, the pain in Hoffa's head reached its peak.

His face turned ashen, and he collapsed to the floor, forcefully exiting his stealth state.

Indor hadn't anticipated this at all. Turning to see Hoffa on the ground, he panicked.

"Hey, kid, are you okay?"

Hoffa's vision went black. His limbs felt ice-cold, and the splitting pain in his head was unbearable, as if it was being torn apart.

"…I feel awful."

Indor touched Hoffa's forehead and cursed in frustration, "You idiot! Did you really keep the Disillusionment Charm on the whole way here?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"You've drained your magical energy! Damn it! Didn't anyone teach you?"

It was only then that Hoffa realized the Disillusionment Charm wasn't some foolproof ability, nor was it comparable to an invisibility cloak. Like any other spell, it consumed a wizard's stamina and mental energy. In his excitement over being able to turn invisible, he had completely forgotten that his magical reserves were quite limited.

This situation was extremely dangerous.

"Help me… up."

Hoffa's voice was weak as he murmured with his eyes closed.

Indor quickly helped him onto a chaise lounge before running downstairs. A few moments later, he returned, holding two large mugs. He brought one to Hoffa's lips and fed him some steaming butterbeer.

The bitter taste of the beer, mixed with the buttery sweetness, slid down Hoffa's throat into his stomach.

Gradually, he began to feel a little more energetic.

It took a while longer before the colors of the world started returning to his vision.

Hoffa lay limply on the lounge chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Indor muttered quietly, "You're something else—learning the Disillusionment Charm so quickly. Do you know some people never manage it in their entire lives?"

"Shut up, gambler," Hoffa replied weakly. "I want some peace and quiet."

Indor was silent for a while before saying anxiously, "I thought it would take you until evening to get here. I didn't expect you to show up so fast."

"I'd rather not add 'midnight wandering' to my list of offenses for sneaking out of school," Hoffa snapped irritably. "Spit it out. If you dragged me here to help you scam people again, I swear—"

"No, no, I'm not short on money right now."

"Then why did you call me here?"

The goblin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked over to the window, glanced outside warily, and then shut the blinds.

"What on earth is going on?" Hoffa asked, rubbing his temples. The magical exhaustion was leaving him utterly drained.

After pulling the curtains shut, Indor snapped his fingers, casting a spell to block out all external sounds. The room instantly fell into silence.

"Hoffa, you have to help me. My homeland is about to fall."

"What?" Hoffa's eyes widened. "Isn't your homeland that... what was it again? Some kind of German...?"

"German Heligoland," Indor replied, taking a deep gulp of beer. "A very beautiful island, but unfortunately, we can't hold it any longer."

His ears drooped sadly.

"Hold it against what?" Hoffa frowned deeply. "Explain it slowly."

"What do you know about wars among wizards?" Indor didn't answer directly but posed a question instead.

"Not much," Hoffa said gravely. "Tell me."

Indor began, "Wizards come from Muggles, but at their core, they are still human. Every major Muggle war has had wizard involvement, and wizards are even more prone to conflict than Muggles. Different schools of thought, different ideologies, different beliefs... Sometimes, a tiny spark is enough to ignite a war among wizards.

Many times, what appears to be a Muggle war is actually a facade for a wizard war.

Heligoland originally belonged to Germany. In 1807, it was occupied by the British wizarding community and ceded to Britain in 1814. At that time, British wizarding powers took control of the island, and my family immigrated there during that era.

Technically, I'm a British goblin.

But in 1890, Britain returned the island to German Muggles without returning it to the German wizarding community. The British Ministry of Magic still prohibited German wizards from landing on Heligoland.

In 1914, when the First World War broke out, wizard conflicts erupted on the island. Even after the war ended, Heligoland never found peace. Wizards kept clashing, fighting, and dying there."

"And what does that have to do with why you're here talking to me now?" Hoffa asked patiently.

"Don't you understand? The war is about to start again. A large number of German wizards are gathering in secret. All of Europe is like a powder keg about to explode. The contested territories will be the first to bear the brunt. We need a significant number of wizards to withstand the coming onslaught."

"Shouldn't you be appealing to the Ministry of Magic?" Hoffa asked.

"The Ministry of Magic?" Indor laughed derisively. "Those indulgent fools don't believe another world war is possible. They're like the goblins at Gringotts, obsessed with nothing but Galleons every day."

"You're kidding me. I just saw a Ministry-issued wanted poster outside," Hoffa retorted.

Indor waved dismissively, annoyed. "That's from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Department of International Magical Cooperation doesn't share the same view. The Minister for Magic, Hector Fawley, even dismissed a department head over this matter. What do you expect me to do?"

Hoffa fell silent. History truly repeated itself.

In his previous life, British politics had refused to acknowledge the inevitability of war until Chamberlain resigned and Churchill took office. The same thing happened during Voldemort's resurgence—the Ministry of Magic refused to believe war was on the horizon, even branding Harry's arm with I must not tell lies.

Indor stepped forward and grabbed Hoffa by the shoulders.

"My only hope is to seek help from Headmaster Dippet of Hogwarts. He has always supported us. Most of the wizards stationed on Heligoland are his former students."

Hoffa was stunned. "Wait, are you saying Hogwarts has been supporting you all along?"

"Exactly. We goblins fund the effort, and Hogwarts helps recruit wizards. This arrangement has been in place for over twenty years."

Hoffa didn't reply immediately. He stood up and began pacing the room.

The headmaster's speech during the opening ceremony now seemed laden with hidden meaning.

("Students in their sixth year or above can apply for permission to train in designated areas as part of the Auror special training program.")

It was becoming clear that sending students to these "designated areas" wasn't simply about Auror training. They were training wizards as soldiers.

How interesting. On the matter of war, Hogwarts seemed to have always taken a hawkish stance—both in this war and during Voldemort's later resurgence.

But why had Indor come to him specifically?

The answer was already forming in Hoffa's mind. He recalled the scene in the hunting grounds after the flying lesson—the destruction of Hogwarts' teleportation array.

Stopping mid-pace, Hoffa fixed his piercing gaze on Indor.

"Has the school stopped sending reinforcements for some time now?"

"Exactly."

Indor quickly stood up. "Do you know something?"

Hoffa's voice was heavy. "The teleportation array connecting the school to the outside world has been sabotaged. I have some suspicions—someone might be interfering with your collaboration with Hogwarts. But that's just a theory. Honestly, you shouldn't have come to me. I'm just a first-year student. Why didn't you go to..."

"I did go!"

Indor snapped impatiently, "I tried, but suddenly, I couldn't contact anyone at Hogwarts. I can't Apparate there either—it's too well-protected by magic. This is why I came looking for you."

"What about Dumbledore? Have you tried reaching out to him?" Hoffa's first thought was of Albus Dumbledore.

To his surprise, as soon as Indor heard the name, he started shaking his head vehemently.

"Albus Dumbledore? No, I haven't approached him. While I know him, I don't trust him much. His relationship with the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald is ambiguous at best. Grindelwald is in Germany right now—I'm not going anywhere near Dumbledore."

Hoffa frowned and slowly sat back down, tapping his fingers on the table. That was a critical point he had overlooked.

Grindelwald—Dumbledore's lifelong friend and, by some accounts, lover.

Before Tom Riddle rose to power, Grindelwald was one of the most feared dark wizards of this era, often regarded as the first true Dark Lord.

And with one of the three Deathly Hallows, the Elder Wand, in his possession, his power was nothing short of terrifying. Indor's mistrust of Dumbledore wasn't unfounded.

After pondering for a moment, Hoffa asked, "So what do you want me to do?"

Indor immediately replied, "Take me to Hogwarts Castle. I must see Headmaster Armando Dippet."

Hoffa was stunned and couldn't help but ask again, "What did you just say?"

"Take me to the school to meet Headmaster Dippet."

"Me? Take you to the school to meet the headmaster!?"

Hoffa pointed at himself, his eyes wide as he enunciated each word.

Indor: "Exactly."

"Goodbye."

Hoffa turned on his heel and headed for the door.

He couldn't believe the absurdity of Indor's request—sneaking someone into the castle? As a first-year student? Such a thing was completely out of the question! Hogwarts was a fully enclosed school, requiring parental consent even for students to visit Hogsmeade. Fifty years later, not even Dumbledore as headmaster could bypass those restrictions, let alone during Dippet's tenure.

Indor quickly grabbed Hoffa. "Wait, don't go!"

Hoffa was furious.

"Do you have any idea how strict our school rules are? Do you know the risk I took just to meet you?

And now you want me to take you to Dippet? Are you insane? I'm just a first-year—I'm nothing!

If they ask where I met you, how am I supposed to explain that? If I somehow manage to smuggle you into Hogwarts and take you to Dippet, I'll be expelled tomorrow. They'll snap my wand in half, and I'll end up wandering the streets of London."

"That's just your imagination! Your assumptions!" Indor protested, panicking.

"Is it really just my imagination?" Hoffa stared unblinkingly at Indor.

(End of Chapter)

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