Harry Potter: I am the Legend

"Don't act like the protagonist if you're not destined to be one." – Hoffa Bach

At that moment, Hoffa felt like crying but couldn't. Damn, his luck was truly abysmal. Starting with a disadvantage was one thing, but what about respecting his own choices? The Sorting Hat clearly didn't care about that at all.

After the Sorting Hat made its decision, there was a faint round of applause from the second row on the left side. The sound was far softer than when Tom Riddle had been sorted, perhaps the weakest applause in history.

Moreover, the clapping seemed to carry a hint of relief, as if everyone was just glad the ordeal was over. Hoffa had taken so long that people's stomachs were growling in hunger.

As he walked toward the Ravenclaw table, Hoffa could feel piercing gazes like sharp swords.

Following the source of the stares, he saw Aglaia sitting in a corner with her arms crossed. Her ghostly blue eyes were filled with icy fury.

At this point, Hoffa had no desire to argue with her further. He chose a seat at the long table as far from Aglaia as possible.

Not long after Hoffa sat down, Miranda took her turn on the stool. Unlike everyone else, Vice Principal Gorshak personally placed the hat on her head without any pretense of impartiality.

It didn't take long for the Hat to announce Ravenclaw. She, too, was sorted into the same house.

Miranda casually removed the hat and took a seat directly across from Hoffa. "Looks like we're classmates after all."

"Yeah."

Seeing Miranda made Hoffa feel a bit better.

At least not everyone in this house was like Aglaia. As long as he kept his distance from her, he'd be fine.

Half an hour later, the Sorting Ceremony concluded.

Professor Gorshak rolled up the parchment and tapped the stool lightly with his wand.

The stool and hat vanished simultaneously.

He turned and returned to the staff table, taking his seat.

Hoffa was famished, realizing he had eaten only a few snacks that day. Judging by the rumbling stomachs around him, he wasn't alone.

But the ceremony wasn't over yet. From the center of the staff table, Headmaster Armando Dippet rose to his feet.

The moment he stood, the surrounding firelight blazed, illuminating the entire hall in brilliant light.

(Hoffa internally grumbled, What a showy old man.)

The headmaster's sharp gaze swept across the hall. After a brief cough, he solemnly declared:

"First, let me remind you of the rules: Wandering the halls at night without permission will result in detention. A second offense will lead to expulsion. Entering the Forbidden Forest is strictly prohibited. Anyone caught will have their wand confiscated and will be expelled. Illegally keeping forbidden creatures will result in a month of hard labor..."

Armando went on for nearly ten minutes, listing a litany of rules.

"Good grief…"

Hoffa covered his face with his hand, once again lamenting why he had been transported to 1938. Compared to Dumbledore's time, Hogwarts in this era felt like a boot camp for reforming wayward children.

Finally, after finishing his long list of rules, Armando Dippet coughed twice and added:

"This year, there are some new developments. Due to the tense situation in the magical world across Europe, the Ministry of Magic has set up a special portal in the school grounds. Students in their sixth year and above can apply for permission to participate in specialized Auror training in designated areas."

With that, the old headmaster sat down.

A round of applause erupted from the tables.

Hoffa joined in, clapping along, while gaining a deeper understanding of the current state of Hogwarts.

No wonder it was so strict—it probably had a lot to do with the looming threat of the Second World War. In the era when Harry was born, the world was relatively peaceful, and the school could afford to be more relaxed.

But in this era, idling might mean courting death.

As the applause ended, a crisp chime rang out.

Suddenly, a plethora of food appeared on the plates in front of Hoffa.

There were appetizers, fresh oysters, crab meat, goose liver terrine, mixed fruit ice, Russian black caviar, and various fresh juices.

Following the lead of the older students, Hoffa quickly grabbed a bit of everything.

The flavors were exquisite and mouthwatering.

A few minutes later, the plates cleared, only to be replaced by the main course: roasted beef, breaded lamb chops, pork cutlets, London broil, chicken wings, cauliflower gratin, baked lobster, cabbage, mashed potatoes, croissants, muffins...

The variety was so vast that Hoffa lost count. People often joked about British cuisine, but this feast was truly eye-opening. Hogwarts' house-elves must have been recruited internationally.

After the feast began, the previously tense atmosphere gradually dissipated, and laughter and chatter filled the hall.

As Hoffa ate, he listened intently to the nearby upperclassmen discussing all kinds of topics, from Quidditch to national affairs, celebrity gossip to renowned figures in the wizarding world.

He found the food delicious and the conversations equally fascinating.

The Ravenclaw upperclassmen spoke with keen insight, living up to the reputation of being the most intelligent house.

Ghosts started drifting in from various corners of the castle. While Hoffa didn't spot Peeves, whom he had hoped to see, he did notice a female ghost in a flowing gown. She was stunning, wearing a crown as she glided gracefully past the Ravenclaw table, politely greeting others.

She was Helena Ravenclaw, the ghost of Ravenclaw House and the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the school's four founders.

Known commonly as the Grey Lady, she was undoubtedly the most beautiful ghost at Hogwarts.

Ravenclaw isn't bad at all, Hoffa thought to himself as he cut into a lamb chop.

After the main course came the soups: creamy mushroom chicken soup, tomato bisque, French onion soup, and oxtail soup.

Seeing these dishes, Hoffa regretted stuffing himself too full during the main course.

While the students eagerly devoured the meal, the professors at the staff table appeared far more reserved. Hoffa noticed that halfway through the banquet, Headmaster Armando Dippet left, followed closely by Vice Principal Gorshak. The two seemed to have something important to discuss, as both wore serious expressions.

Hoffa turned to Miranda and asked, "What does your grandfather teach?"

Miranda sipped her juice lightly and replied, "He's the head of Ravenclaw House and teaches Charms. Just a word of advice—never argue with him during class."

Hoffa was taken aback.

The old man seemed even stricter than Professor McGonagall, promising a challenging road ahead.

After the soup came desserts: jelly, caramel pudding, apple tarts, mousse, and lime-flavored ice cream.

Hoffa was completely stuffed by now. Struggling to manage, he picked up a small serving of lime ice cream, resolving to restrain himself at future feasts.

When the meal ended, a familiar figure rose from the staff table—it was a younger version of Dumbledore.

The moment he stood up, the students broke into enthusiastic applause.

This applause was far more genuine than what Headmaster Dippet had received earlier. Dumbledore's popularity, it seemed, transcended time.

He tapped his glass with his wand and smiled. "In a moment, the prefects will guide everyone to their common rooms. But before that, we have one important tradition to uphold."

The students cheered, "Sing! Sing!"

The Gryffindors were the most boisterous, but even the Ravenclaws smiled at the suggestion.

Miranda whispered to Hoffa, "He's the greatest Transfiguration teacher ever. He can transform into hundreds of animals."

"Really?" Hoffa asked, astonished.

"Of course. He even helped draft the Animagus law," answered an upperclassman sitting nearby.

At the staff table, Dumbledore waved his wand, and the juice remaining in the students' cups suddenly exploded into colorful ribbons.

Some students, caught off guard while drinking, ended up with ribbons all over their faces, bursting into laughter.

Dumbledore exclaimed, "Ready? Sing!"

And so, the entire school sang together:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts,Teach us something, please,

Whether we are old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our minds are broad enough to absorb

Something interesting,

For now, they're quite empty,

Filled with nothing but air…

Hoffa didn't know the song, but he bobbed his head and tapped his feet in rhythm with the singing.

After the song ended, the hall's atmosphere reached its peak.

Dumbledore spread his arms wide and, amid the rapturous applause, said loudly, "Never forget, even in the darkest of times, there is magic and music to accompany us."

When the feast ended, the four prefects led their respective house students out of the Great Hall in an orderly line, heading towards their common rooms.

Interestingly, Hoffa was most familiar with Gryffindor's common room—perhaps even more so than some older students—but he had no idea what Ravenclaw's common room would be like.

Their prefect turned out to be an old acquaintance, someone Hoffa knew all too well: Filius Flitwick.

So familiar, in fact, that Hoffa called out his name as soon as he saw him, startling the short-statured prefect.

At this time, Flitwick's face was clean-shaven, giving him a youthful and handsome appearance. He was about the same height as Indor. Years later, he would become the head of Ravenclaw and the Charms professor who taught Harry Potter—a man with an exceptionally good temperament.

As Flitwick led the way, he explained the history of Ravenclaw to the new students.

"Our house was founded by Rowena Ravenclaw and represents the element of air. Our symbol is the eagle. Naturally, where eagles reside is never low to the ground. If any of you have trouble with heights, I suggest you visit the school nurse first."

Some students chuckled at his comment.

But the laughter soon faded.

As Hoffa followed Prefect Flitwick, they climbed higher and higher, the magical staircases beneath their feet shifting and aligning like building blocks to lift them ever upwards.

By the time they reached the top of the Ravenclaw Tower, some of the new students with a fear of heights could no longer bear to look down, where only faint lights flickered far below.

Hoffa estimated the tower to be at least 300 meters tall. Just the sight of it made him dizzy. Without the help of the enchanted stairs, who knew how long it would take to climb?

Flitwick smiled and said, "Ravenclaw Rule #75: Never throw things off the tower."

The new students let out awkward laughs.

The prefect led the shivering first-years across a narrow sky bridge to a massive portrait of an armored knight.

The knight in the painting slowly bowed, revealing a bronze eagle statue perched beside the portrait, wings outstretched.

As the group approached, the metal eagle spread its shimmering wings and asked in a clear voice:

"Forsake me, or embrace me, and you'll surely perish. Yet within you, I am the source of life. What am I?"

Flitwick stepped aside. "Ravenclaw's common room doesn't use passwords. You must answer the statue's riddle to enter."

The first-years bowed their heads, pondering the eagle's question.

A soft laugh broke the silence. The silver-haired girl, Aglaea, declared smugly, "Too easy. The answer is water."

The surrounding students looked at her with a mix of realization and admiration.

Flitwick snapped his fingers. "Correct! Too bad I'm not a professor, or I'd give you points for that."

The bronze eagle folded its wings, and the knight straightened up. The portrait swung open to reveal a blue-lit passageway.

Hoffa sighed softly. In Aglaea, he saw a shadow of Hermione—smart and proud.

The common room was a spacious circular chamber. The floor was adorned with soft cushions, and there were a few chairs scattered about.

Elegant arched windows lined the walls, draped with blue and bronze silk that fluttered gently in the breeze. Through the windows, Hoffa could see the brilliant night sky, studded with stars that sparkled like lanterns against the heavens. In the distance, mist-shrouded mountains stretched endlessly, with soft clouds drifting lazily past. The tranquility of the scene was breathtaking.

The domed ceiling was inlaid with stars, matching the celestial patterns on the deep blue carpet below. The room contained tables, chairs, and bookshelves. Opposite the entrance, a white marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw stood in a niche, with a door beside it leading to the dormitories above.

The atmosphere was serene.

A few older students sat cross-legged on the cushions, reading, playing chess, or meditating in silence. When they noticed the newcomers, they merely nodded in acknowledgment before returning to their activities.

Hoffa walked to the window, gazing out at the starry night. Resting his hands on the railing, he felt the cool breeze, carrying the faint scent of honeysuckle unique to the night.

In that moment, the meditation techniques of Milarepa seemed to activate on their own.

Not resisting this instinctive sensation, Hoffa sat down on a cushion by the window and began to meditate.

He thought to himself that perhaps the Sorting Hat had made the best decision for him after all.

With each breath, his fingers formed strange positions, and his mind spread like a spiderweb throughout the Ravenclaw Tower. However, whenever he tried to extend his thoughts beyond the common room, he encountered nothing but an impenetrable darkness. He wasn't sure if this was due to his limitations or some magical barrier.

Time seemed to slip away during his meditation. By the time he finished, most people had already left the room.

Two students remained.

Miranda sat on the carpet by the bookshelf, reading under the light of a magical lamp.

Meanwhile, Aglaea sat on a chair, busily scribbling on a piece of parchment filled with dense writing.

When Hoffa stood up, Aglaea shot him a cold glance and let out a barely perceptible sneer.

Miranda, on the other hand, closed her book and rose to her feet alongside him.

At the fork between the boys' and girls' dormitories, Miranda suddenly asked in a low voice, "Did you offend Aglaea?"

Hoffa mumbled, "If avoiding someone counts as offending them, then yes."

Miranda chuckled lightly. "You're in for it then. Veela hold grudges."

"What?" Hoffa was slightly shocked. "She's a Veela?"

"Not fully, but she definitely has Veela blood. The surname 'de Lascelles' is French. In that regard, she's quite like you."

With that, she bade him goodnight and entered the girls' dormitory.

Hoffa headed into the boys' dormitory.

The dormitory was located at the very top of the tower. Inside, there were four four-poster beds with deep blue velvet curtains. His backpack had already been placed by his bed.

Hoffa undressed and climbed into bed, but a small question lingered in his mind.

Why didn't that silver-haired girl attend Beauxbatons? Why had she come to Britain to study instead?

(To be continued)

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