Harry Potter: I am the Legend

What is a "problem girl"? Hoffa felt no one embodied these words better than her. He finally understood—this little troublemaker was dead set on opposing him. She seemed determined to try anything that could make him uncomfortable.

She was, without a doubt, the most annoying person Hoffa had encountered in both of his lives!

Even Tom Riddle seemed more likable compared to her. At least Voldemort kept a low profile!

In an empty bathroom, Hoffa turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. But even the icy chill couldn't calm him down.

He had always considered himself mature, capable of hiding his emotions. But after all these days, he found himself nearing his breaking point.

Finally, he vented his frustration, kicking the tiled wall angrily and cursing, "Petty! Vain! Crazy! How can someone as annoying as you exist in this world?"

As Hoffa was fuming, he suddenly heard a soft thud.

Thud.

The sound of a book dropping came from the doorway. Hoffa quickly turned around.

Standing at the entrance was Miranda, staring at him in surprise. She had dropped her book out of shock.

Realizing he'd lost his composure, Hoffa quickly regained his senses. His patience had been wearing thin due to his unfulfilled goal, and now he'd allowed himself to fall into a fit of impotent rage—something no true wizard would do.

While picking up her book, Miranda mumbled, "I saw you rushing off and came to check…"

"It's nothing," Hoffa said. "I just got really pissed off."

"What's going on with you today? You seem… different," Miranda asked after gathering her books.

"Different? Compared to that white-haired girl, I'm nothing…" Hoffa scoffed.

"Well, usually, you don't even bother combing your hair. You looked so casual at the start-of-term feast. Why are you suddenly trying so hard today?" Miranda asked.

Hoffa fell silent.

Seeing his lack of response, Miranda tried to console him, "Aglaia isn't really that hard to get along with. She just likes being the center of attention. Honestly, she's probably the most 'Ravenclaw' person in Ravenclaw."

"Ha! Since when did 'Ravenclaw' become an adjective?" Hoffa said sarcastically before walking out of the bathroom.

Following behind him, Miranda asked, "What do you think makes someone a Ravenclaw? Honestly, Aglaia wouldn't be well-liked in any other house. But Ravenclaws have their own ways of getting along. Maybe you could try looking at her differently."

Hoffa let out a mocking laugh. "Hmph, as long as she stays out of my way, she can do whatever she wants—even win a Nobel Prize this year, for all I care."

"What's a Nobel Prize?"

"Never mind," Hoffa waved dismissively. "Don't you find people like her irritating?"

"Not really. She hasn't… wait."

Miranda suddenly stopped walking.

"You said she's been getting in your way. Did she actually interfere with you today?"

"Of course she…" Hoffa started to say but stopped himself just in time. He knew Ravenclaws were sharp, and he didn't want anyone guessing his interest in restricted books.

But Miranda had already figured it out. Adjusting her glasses, she smiled knowingly.

"You tidied up your appearance and actively answered questions. You're trying to make a good impression on Slughorn, aren't you?"

Hoffa quickened his pace to put some distance between them. Miranda suddenly felt less like a girl and more like an interrogator.

Miranda caught up with him. "Oh, I see! So you're not entirely indifferent. What do you want? To join his Slug Club? Or get some potions from him?"

"Neither," Hoffa said irritably, coming to a stop.

"Then what do you want? Tell me," Miranda pressed.

Hoffa hesitated. Miranda's identity as the deputy headmaster's granddaughter made him cautious.

"Wait… are you trying to catch someone's attention?" Miranda teased.

Her gossiping tone infuriated Hoffa. He suspected she might be goading him, but her words still got under his skin. Were all British kids this precocious?

"Or could it be… that the person you like is Aglaia…?" Miranda asked mischievously.

Hoffa felt a shiver run down his spine, goosebumps covering his arms. Frustrated, he raised his book as if to strike.

"Enough! Shut up already. Can you stop being disgusting? I want Slughorn's signature so I can borrow a book from the library. Satisfied with that answer?"

"That's it?"

Miranda looked surprised.

"What else? If the librarian wasn't so strict, do you think I'd go to such lengths to please the head of Slytherin House?"

"You should've said so earlier." Miranda slapped her forehead. "Something this simple could've been handled easily. Why waste your time competing with Aglaia for attention?"

"Wait, you have a way?"

Hoffa's face lit up with hope. "Are you saying your grandfather could pull some strings for me?"

"Don't even think about it. Aldebay wouldn't do something that generous," Miranda replied.

Hoffa frowned. "Then why even bring it up?"

"He wouldn't, but I would." Miranda grinned mischievously. "We could use a little trick…"

Hoffa was curious about her plan, but Miranda didn't explain. She only told him to cooperate when the time came and to keep it a secret.

The following Monday came quickly.

It was a gloomy, rainy day. Raindrops pattered against the castle's windows, casting a gray hue inside and out.

That morning, in the Charms classroom, Professor Aldebay Goschalk entered precisely on the second hand, as punctual as ever.

Standing at the podium, his gray eyes scanned the room. In a deep voice, he asked, "Why is there another student missing today?"

Hoffa didn't even need to look; he knew Miranda was skipping class again.

But this time, before Professor Goschalk could deduct points, a hand shot up into the air.

It was Aglaia, Miranda's dormmate.

"What is it?" Professor Goschalk asked.

"Professor, here's a note from Miranda. She's feeling unwell," Aglaia said, pulling a piece of paper from her desk and handing it over.

Professor Goschalk glanced at the note. For the first time, Hoffa saw a rare flicker of disappointment on his usually stoic face. Hoffa couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the old man. If he were in Goschalk's position, he'd be fuming by now.

His own granddaughter repeatedly skipping his class, yet he couldn't do anything about it. Where was his authority?

But the aged Professor Goschalk quickly masked his disappointment. With efficient strokes, he signed the note and handed it back to Aglaia.

No points were deducted, much to the relief of the Ravenclaw students.

"Last class, we covered the syllables and movements of basic spells. Today, we'll begin practical spellcasting. The first spell we'll learn is the Duplication Charm. This charm is mainly used for tangible objects, but it can also extend to intangible carriers such as thoughts and memories. It's not a basic spell but a highly advanced one…"

As the lesson began, the tense atmosphere eased.

This was the first time they would practice actual spellcasting in class. Even though Hoffa had already mastered most first-year spells and had nearly perfected the Duplication Charm from his beginner's spellbook, he still paid close attention.

Thanks to his heightened mental abilities, Hoffa excelled in Charms, much like he did in Transfiguration.

By the end of class, he successfully duplicated a small iron ball into two, and then two into four. His flawless technique earned praise from Professor Goschalk, who awarded Ravenclaw ten points.

While not as generous as Dumbledore, it was enough to provoke Aglaia. Her duplicated iron ball was noticeably smaller than the original—not identical. Though impressive for an average student, it fell short compared to Hoffa's performance.

Hoffa ignored her frustration. He had reflected on his behavior and resolved not to let her provoke him anymore. He saw her as a stumbling block on his path to growth—a test of his resolve from the will of the universe.

However, as class ended and Hoffa turned a corner on the fourth-floor staircase, he saw Aglaia standing by the statue of Grey the Flatterer, arms crossed, glaring at him coldly.

Assuming she was upset about him earning points for Ravenclaw, Hoffa decided not to engage and walked past her.

"Stop!" she commanded.

Agleia called out to Hoffa coldly.

Hoffa turned around reluctantly. "What?"

"What's your relationship with Miranda?" Agleia asked.

Hoffa replied coolly, "What are you trying to imply?"

"Why did she ask me to leave this thing for you?"

As she spoke, Agleia raised her hand, holding a slip of paper between her fingers.

Hoffa sneered. "I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever Miranda wants to leave for me, what does that have to do with you?"

Agleia's expression immediately turned to one of disgust. "Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't care less about your business."

She flicked her fingers and tossed the slip of paper away, as if it were something dirty. Then, without looking back, she turned and walked away.

Hoffa's composure +1.

He lazily pulled out his wand and cast a Levitation Charm, bringing the slip of paper back to his hand.

He picked it up and opened it, discovering that it was a note from Miranda.

"I've got a stomachache and am being treated at the school infirmary. Please excuse me for the morning.

Miranda Goshawk."

Below that was the signature of Adabe Goshawk.

Hoffa looked at the note, perplexed. Just as he was wondering what it was for, the letters on the slip of paper began to change.

They quickly rearranged themselves into a new message.

"Application to enter the library to borrow any book, with no time limit.

Adabe Goshawk."

Hoffa's jaw dropped. Miranda had promised to help him get a note for borrowing books from the library, but he never expected her to go about it this way—faking a stomachache to trick Adabe into signing. She not only fooled Goshawk but even managed to deceive that jerk Agleia.

A mix of surprise and excitement surged within Hoffa. This was what turning the tide must feel like.

Initial goal achieved!

With access to that transformation book, Hoffa now had the potential to become an Animagus. If he succeeded, he would gain the ability to sneak around as well.

Both invisibility and becoming an Animagus had their unique advantages. Invisibility allowed one to completely vanish from sight, but transforming into a small creature enabled access to places humans couldn't reach. The best part? As an Animagus, his footsteps would become silent when his form shrank.

Invisibility and becoming an Animagus each had their unique advantages. Invisibility allowed one to completely vanish from sight, but transforming into a small creature granted access to places humans couldn't reach. The most intriguing part was that when an Animagus transformed into a smaller form, their footsteps became completely silent.

Hoffa really wanted to properly thank Miranda. However, she was still absent from Dumbledore's class.

This left him wondering: was she really sick?

After the Transfiguration class ended, Hoffa quickly grabbed the signed note and dashed to the library.

Reaching the spot where Morgan's book, "Anatomy of Everything: Structure is King," was kept, he was just about to pull the book out when the old librarian popped up.

The old man, holding a feather duster, barked fiercely, "Hey! You again!"

A slip of paper was shoved under his nose, cutting him off.

"Less talk, just give me the book!" Hoffa demanded.

The old man snatched the note, read it twice, and grudgingly swallowed whatever insults he had been about to hurl. His wrinkled face contorted with frustration and confusion.

Rules were rules, and there was no room for objection. Reluctantly, he pulled out the book and handed it over to Hoffa.

Holding the thick book with its rough cover, Hoffa felt a wave of satisfaction. But he didn't start reading it immediately, deciding it was better to study when no one was around.

That evening in the Great Hall, the ceiling reflected a dreary rainstorm, mirroring the weather outside.

It was then that Hoffa finally spotted Miranda at the dining table. She was eating a potato pie with a vacant look in her eyes.

Hoffa waved a hand in front of her face. "Hey!"

Miranda slowly turned her head. Strangely, she wasn't wearing her glasses, her complexion was pale, and she had a sickly, somber demeanor.

"Were you really sick?" Hoffa asked with concern.

Miranda glanced at Hoffa briefly, murmured a faint "Mhm" through her nose, and then went back to eating her potato pie with a cold, disinterested expression.

"Poor thing," Hoffa muttered. He picked up a potato pie of his own and leaned in, speaking softly. "Thanks a lot, by the way. I got the book."

Miranda paused her chewing, seeming to think for a moment.

"What?"

"The book," Hoffa said, smiling. "I borrowed it from the library."

"What does that have to do with me?" Miranda interrupted flatly, her face devoid of emotion. She turned away and resumed eating her potato pie.

Hoffa's mouth fell open, completely baffled. What does that have to do with you? If it weren't for your help, how could I have borrowed it?

He couldn't understand why this usually kind and good-tempered girl was acting so distant and different.

Maybe it's that time of the month, he thought, assuming her mood was off. But then another thought hit him, and he felt ridiculous. Miranda was only 11 years old—not even close to puberty yet. She was just a little girl. How could she possibly have... that?

(End of Chapter)

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