Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Aglaia's veiled jab left Hoffa displeased. He picked up his wand and lightly tapped the small block of wood in front of him, focusing on the image of a wooden sword in his mind.

As magic flowed from his wand, Hoffa directed it into the block of wood with mental precision. Suddenly, an extraordinary sensation filled him—it was as though he had grasped a lump of clay out of thin air.

Under the influence of magic, the wood became incredibly malleable.

"So that's it... purpose and structure," Hoffa thought, realizing the key. He closed his eyes, imagining in his mind a gleaming, razor-sharp blade.

The piece of wood began to stretch and elongate under Hoffa's mental guidance. It grew thinner, taking shape.

Midway through the transformation, Hoffa frowned.

No, this isn't right. The details aren't enough—a blade alone doesn't make a sword.

He turned his attention to visualizing the shape of the hilt and the guard with greater precision.

Above the desk, the small wooden sword began to look more polished. What started as a rough outline gradually gained intricate details, even delicate carvings on the hilt.

Miranda whispered a quiet exclamation of admiration, while Aglaia scoffed dismissively, muttering, "Not bad... I suppose."

Once the carving was complete, Hoffa opened his eyes. He looked at the little sword before him, his expression calm, without a trace of excitement.

Miranda marveled, "That's amazing—you really did it!"

Hoffa shook his head and closed his eyes again. Something about it still felt wrong.

After all, his ultimate goal was to become an Animagus. Simply turning a block of wood into a wooden sword felt trivial.

Think about it—what's the difference between crafting a wooden sword with magic and sculpting one from modeling clay? At its core, the sword is still just wood; there's no fundamental change. It's not magical, nor remarkable.

Essence, transformation, purpose.

Dumbledore's keywords circled in Hoffa's mind.

No, a sword should be made of iron. Its purpose should be to cut and kill. A wooden sword is nothing more than a toy.

Refocusing, Hoffa poured his mind into the wooden sword, immersing himself completely in its essence. He aimed to perceive its deeper details.

But it wasn't enough. Though his mind could trace every fiber of the wood, he still couldn't grasp its essence—let alone alter it.

Not enough mental strength?

Hoffa furrowed his brow in thought before recalling Milarepa's meditation technique, a method to enhance mental focus.

He glanced around the classroom. Everyone else was struggling with their transformations, paying no attention to him in the corner.

Clearing his thoughts, Hoffa closed his eyes and entered a meditative state.

In this state, his mental strength expanded exponentially. If he wanted, he could perceive the entire classroom without opening his eyes.

But Hoffa didn't allow himself to be distracted. Every ounce of his focus plunged into the wooden sword, seeking the essence of the wood.

His powerful mental energy, like a web, seeped into the wooden sword thread by thread. His magic wove through the fibers, cells, and even the nuclei, finally reaching the very core of the organic material.

It was as if a thunderous explosion echoed in his mind.

The black-and-white world around him suddenly burst into vivid color. It felt like he had entered another dimension, where countless minuscule particles swirled and transformed, their infinite hues mixing and separating before his eyes.

Magic carried Hoffa through this uncharted territory, revealing a new world of Transfiguration. He was overcome with elation, sensing an almost godlike power of control over this realm.

Yes, this is it!In the real world, the wooden sword in front of Hoffa suddenly shattered into fine powder and completely dissipated into the air.

Nearby, Miranda's expression grew slightly serious.

Aglaia, however, wore a smug smile, thinking to herself, What an idiot—he made the sword disappear completely!

In the classroom, Dumbledore, who was correcting a student's mistake at the lectern, abruptly turned his head toward the corner.

A powerful surge of mental energy had suddenly appeared in the room!

On the other side of the classroom, Tom Riddle furrowed his brows, sensing something unusual.

Setting aside what he was doing, Dumbledore quickly walked toward the corner. Everyone's gaze followed him as he moved.

When he reached the corner, Dumbledore saw Hoffa with his eyes tightly closed.

The next second, Hoffa raised his wand.

In the air, faint, crystalline metallic light began to shimmer.

Under everyone's astonished gaze, the metallic glow rapidly rearranged itself, forming a blade, a guard, and a hilt.

Dumbledore's blue eyes widened sharply.

The gleaming blade made it clear—this was a full-fledged metal sword, not a wooden one.

Miranda's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Aglaia's face turned pale. She shot to her feet, gripping the desk for support.

The surrounding students all turned their heads, watching this incredible scene unfold.

They had no idea what was happening—only that a metal sword had appeared out of thin air.

But Dumbledore knew. The boy before him had managed to alter the very essence of an object!

When the transformation was complete, Hoffa opened his eyes, his face pale but full of joy. He grabbed the sharp little sword before him with exhilaration.

He had done it! He had used Transfiguration to change the essence of an object. This was true magic!

Dumbledore began clapping sincerely. Soon, the surrounding students joined in, following his lead. They didn't entirely understand what had happened, but they could tell it was extraordinary.

Tom Marvolo stood up, his brows tightly knit as he stared at the Ravenclaw table, muttering in disbelief, "Hoffa...?"

Immersed in the joy of his successful transformation, Hoffa was startled by the applause. He looked up to find himself surrounded by a crowd, all clapping in amazement.

What's going on? Isn't this basic stuff?

Without a word, Dumbledore pulled Hoffa to his feet, looking at him as if he were a rare treasure. Then, he took the small sword Hoffa had conjured, held it high, and exclaimed with admiration:

"Mission exceeded—well exceeded! Hoffa, look at this! I've never seen a first-year student achieve this level of mastery. Extraordinary! The last person to accomplish such a transformation was Nicolas Flamel, over 500 years ago. Fifty points to Ravenclaw!"

He was so thrilled that he didn't even bother to review the other students' work.

This infuriated Aglaia. As soon as class ended, she stormed out and angrily threw her wooden-carved tree into the trash.

After class, Hoffa also wanted to leave, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Wait a moment, Hoffa."

Hoffa paused, standing still as the crowd filed past him. His fellow Ravenclaws excitedly patted his shoulder, offering words of encouragement. However, Hoffa noticed Tom Riddle walking past him with a dark expression. As they brushed shoulders, Hoffa caught a barely audible whisper:

"Truly impressive, Hoffa."

After the classroom emptied, Dumbledore gestured toward a desk. Hoffa, puzzled, sat down.

Dumbledore glanced at the earring on Hoffa's ear and chuckled, "It seems you've gotten along well with goblins."

Thinking of Indor, Hoffa scratched his head. "It's alright, I guess... I just can't take it off."

"Why would you want to take it off? It's a gift from a friend."

As he spoke, Dumbledore pulled up a chair and sat down. He clasped his hands together, his expression turning serious.

"What you just did was dangerous. Do you understand that?"

Hoffa's heart sank; he didn't quite grasp what Dumbledore meant.

Dumbledore handed the sword back to Hoffa and said sternly, "Can you turn it back into wood?"

Hoffa stared at the sword, concentrating on it for a while. His face turned pale. He understood why Dumbledore had kept him back. He knew the structure of metal atoms but not the structure of wood. There was no way he could reverse the transformation.

Dumbledore crossed his arms and said softly, "Caution, Hoffa. Caution. I've seen too many talented Transfigurists who lacked it.

"You possess immense mental potential, but remember: the goal is to alter an object's structure, not its essence. The euphoria and impulsiveness that transformation brings can easily lead to recklessness.

"In my view, what you achieved was an irreversible transformation. If your target hadn't been a piece of wood but yourself, you might have been lost completely."

Hoffa met Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes and was at a loss for words.

Dumbledore straightened up, tapped the metal sword with his wand, and watched it slowly revert to a small block of wood.

"Remember, a true Transfigurist must not only turn stone into gold but also turn gold back into stone."

Dumbledore's words left Hoffa shaken for a long time. When he finally left the classroom, he was still sweating slightly.

Indeed, at the moment he completed the transformation, he had almost been overwhelmed by exhilaration. He even felt, for a fleeting second, that becoming an Animagus was within his grasp.

But now he realized how far he still had to go on his journey with Transfiguration.

The other students were unaware of Dumbledore's warning to Hoffa. They only buzzed with excitement about the Ravenclaw student who excelled at Transfiguration. Among Ravenclaws, Hoffa was treated as a hero, even though Professor Kettleburn had deducted seventy points from their house earlier. Thanks to Dumbledore awarding fifty points back, the scores were roughly balanced.

However, not everyone shared this enthusiasm. Aglaia's attitude toward Hoffa grew increasingly hostile.

No matter the occasion, she always greeted him with a scowl.

On Tuesday during Herbology class, she switched Hoffa's assigned fungi plant with a pot of snapping Venomous Tentacula, hoping to embarrass him. Thankfully, Hufflepuff's head of house, Professor Herbella Beery, intervened in time—otherwise, the plant might have ripped Hoffa's nose off.

On Wednesday during Astronomy, she publicly mocked Hoffa for confusing Ganymede with Europa.

Hoffa thought she was probably someone who had never faced setbacks before. Suddenly encountering failure, she seemed to bear a grudge against him. The more hostile she became, the more Hoffa ignored her, treating her as little more than a clown.

He spent his mornings attending classes and his evenings meditating in the gentle breeze of the Ravenclaw common room.

During free moments, he visited the library, searching for methods to learn the Disillusionment Charm.

Unfortunately, the sections accessible to first-year students were quite limited, containing only basic theoretical texts with no specific spellbooks.

Without learning a way to turn invisible, Hoffa couldn't freely explore Hogwarts.

But he wasn't in a rush. There was plenty of time. If it weren't for Aglaia occasionally provoking him, life at Hogwarts would have felt almost too perfect.

This calm lasted until Thursday.

Thursday brought flying lessons.

(End of chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09