Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Back at the school, Hoffa carefully stashed away his Transfiguration book before heading straight to the classroom where the student clubs were registered.

Indor wasn't wrong—Hogwarts had plenty of student organizations like these. For instance, in the later years, Harry Potter founded the D.A., or Dumbledore's Army, a club dedicated to learning Defense Against the Dark Arts in the Room of Requirement.

Of course, their choice of location was a matter of necessity at the time. Hogwarts was under the oppressive watch of the British Ministry of Magic, forcing them to hide from Dolores Umbridge's many informants.

However, Hogwarts in this era was far from such circumstances, and its clubs flourished vibrantly. Hoffa randomly approached a senior student on his way and easily got directions to the classroom where clubs were registered and listed.

In Western society, education often leaned toward fostering students' interests and talents—essentially, a gift-based education.

Even from primary school, institutions would offer various clubs to nurture different abilities.

For Hoffa, however, clubs were a novelty. In his previous life, his school had no clubs during high school because everyone was focused on academics.

By the time he got to university, most clubs were fronts for seniors to flirt with naïve juniors rather than spaces for genuine interests or skills development.

So, the concept of clubs was an entirely new experience for Hoffa.

The Hogwarts club registration office was located behind a massive painting on the second floor. The painting depicted hundreds of ancient Greek philosophers locked in a lively debate, their voices clashing endlessly.

Entering the painting didn't require a password, as students frequently came and went through it.

Beyond the painting lay a gray stone corridor. Hoffa followed it into a grand hall surrounded by arched corridors. The intricately carved patterns of the arches occasionally transformed into glowing magical runes that shimmered faintly on the walls.

At the center of the hall stood a statue of a group of young witches and wizards holding wands, their expressions brimming with confidence and ambition.

The walls were adorned with numerous portraits of distinguished students from past generations. These painted figures actively advertised their respective clubs, calling for new members to join.

Many students roamed the hall, most of them first-years like Hoffa.

After observing for a while, Hoffa noticed a desk in the corner of the hall specifically set up for registration and inquiries. A girl with a delicate appearance sat behind it. She wore school robes and seemed to be in her sixth year. With a quill in hand, she recorded information swiftly and efficiently.

Hoffa approached her, and the girl looked up with a professional smile.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to ask if there are any clubs for learning spells," Hoffa asked politely.

"There are 17 spell-focused clubs at the school. Which one would you like to join?"

As she spoke, the girl pulled out a stack of parchment.

"Uh…" Hoffa was momentarily stunned. Indor had only mentioned that there were clubs where one could learn spells, but he hadn't specified which one. Hoffa certainly hadn't expected there to be as many as 17.

The girl noticed Hoffa's silence and asked again.

"Do you have an invitation? Some clubs require an invitation to join."

"No, I don't," Hoffa admitted honestly.

"Hmm, there are only three clubs that don't require invitations. But I suggest you look through the list and choose for yourself."

With that, she handed Hoffa a stack of parchment.

Hoffa glanced at it and saw a long list of club names:

Trastragr Spell Circle

Horned Club

Codex of All Things Magic Society

Krypteia Society

Omahene Brotherhood

Northern Ireland Magic Club

Northumberland Guild

...

Each club not only had its founding date and notable members listed but also specific requirements. Many clubs were highly selective, with criteria based on region, family lineage, or even blood status.

After scanning the list for a while, Hoffa couldn't determine which one matched Indor's description of a club that taught spells to new members.

So he asked the senior girl in front of him, "Which one here teaches spells upon joining, any spell at all?"

"Any spell?" The senior girl frowned. "I've never heard of any club claiming to teach any spell. Typically, new members spend their time learning the rules of the club. No one would casually teach spells to just anyone."

Hoffa was stunned—this didn't align with what Indor had told him.

He absently flipped through the parchment, deep in thought.

Suddenly, his finger froze, landing on the last page of the stack.

There, listed on the final page, was a club named the Violet Wizards Society.

Violet Wizards Society

Only for those who are wise, disciplined, and determined.

Only for those who strictly uphold secrecy.

At the bottom of the page, a note in small text read: (Membership full).

However, what caught Hoffa's attention wasn't the name of the club or its strict requirements, but a small drawing on the parchment.

The drawing depicted a man wearing a peculiar, pale mask that concealed his entire face, leaving his features indiscernible. Yet, on one of the man's ears, Hoffa saw an earring identical to his own.

Hoffa immediately knew which club he wanted to join.

Turning to the senior girl, he declared, "This one—I want to join this club."

The senior girl looked at the parchment Hoffa handed her, her eyes widening. "The Violet Wizards Society… But this club is full, didn't you see that?"

"Tell me its location, I'll visit it myself," Hoffa insisted. He was determined to learn the Disillusionment Charm and would not be swayed by obstacles.

"Alright." The girl didn't refuse. She pulled out a small stack of cards from beneath the desk, picked one, and handed it to Hoffa.

"Here, just follow the arrow. But whether they let you in or not, that's not something I can control."

Hoffa took the card and saw a hand-drawn map of a tower area on the front, with a small shaking arrow in the center indicating his current location.

After thanking the senior girl, Hoffa followed the card's instructions and made his way to the area where most of the clubs were located.

Hogwarts had a dedicated space for most of its clubs.

In contrast to the bustling hallways he had just passed through, the club area was quiet.

It was a tall tower, with a transparent glass ceiling. From the ground, a bright white light connected the top and bottom of the tower, giving it the appearance of being the core of some kind of magical array.

Strange instruments slowly orbited the white light, occasionally making a pleasant, tinkling sound.

The tower was filled with oil paintings, but the people in these paintings were busy with their own tasks, silent and unmoving.

Occasionally, someone in one of the paintings would glance up at Hoffa as he passed, but then quickly look down again, ignoring him.

Hoffa also saw several wizard students standing in front of the paintings. As soon as they noticed him, they silently stopped talking and waited until he had passed before whispering the password and vanishing from the painting.

Without a doubt, Hoffa knew that each painting was hiding a different student group.

This made Hoffa feel a sense of awe. So many hidden rooms, so many wizard societies, so many ancient secrets. If a person had to explore everything to gain the knowledge of a great wizard, who knew how long it would take to uncover it all at Hogwarts.

Hoffa followed the card's directions, moving slowly up the tower's stairs.

The farther he went, the more isolated it became.

Eventually, he stopped in front of a huge portrait of a woman. The woman in the painting wore a mask and held a bouquet of violets.

This area was already very secluded, with only a few paintings nearby. The woman in the painting noticed Hoffa's approach, as though sensing his intent.

"Do you need something?" she asked calmly.

"Excuse me, could you inform someone that I wish to apply for membership?" Hoffa asked politely.

The woman in the painting set down the bouquet, stood up, and slowly disappeared into a passage within the artwork. After a short time, she returned, accompanied by another person.

This new person was a student wearing a pale mask. She was small and thin, her face completely hidden. The two of them walked together inside the painting.

The masked student approached Hoffa, gave him a brief look, and then, to Hoffa's surprise, she simply climbed out of the painting. Hoffa jumped back in shock, having assumed she was also part of the painting.

"What do you want?" the masked person asked. Her voice was feminine, and she didn't seem very old.

Hoffa nervously observed her, sensing she might have been affected by some advanced magic.

She seemed almost transparent, standing in front of him yet feeling distant. She appeared blurry, as if she could disappear the moment he turned away.

Respectfully, Hoffa asked, "I want to know if I can still join the club."

"You want to join?" The masked person tilted her head. "Didn't the student council tell you the club is full?" Her voice was faint, lacking substance.

"They did, but I still want to try."

The masked person nodded slowly, then paused.

"Then what's your goal? Tell me your reason."

Hoffa lifted his head and stared directly at the eyes beneath the mask.

"I want to learn a spell. I heard that by joining your club, I can learn any spell."

The masked person shook her head, then nodded.

She suddenly let out a soft laugh, "You really are an honest one, how interesting. I wonder who told you that. But, joining the Violet Wizards Society is not impossible, though I'll need to give you a small test first."

"A test?"

"Recite the membership requirements for me. I assume you've seen them at the student council?"

Hoffa replied, "Only the wise, rigorous, and determined may join. Only those who strictly keep secrets may join."

"Good, you have a good memory."

The masked woman took a step closer, circling Hoffa halfway.

"Tell me, are you really such a person?"

Hoffa thought for a moment. "I can't say I'm wise, and I'm not sure about being rigorous and determined, but as for keeping secrets, I believe I can do that."

"You're quite modest. Follow me."

She walked toward the painting, hands behind her back, and disappeared into it.

Hoffa followed her through the painting, passing through what felt like a thin veil. He knew this was magic at work. If the masked woman hadn't brought him in, he certainly wouldn't have passed the test.

Once inside, Hoffa found the place very dim.

A set of stone stairs led down to a lower level, with strange carvings on the floor. Every so often, a firepit lit up a section of the space.

After descending the stairs, Hoffa arrived in a square underground hall.

The hall was a perfect square, with a raised stone platform in the center. Around the platform were neatly arranged glass boxes, and there was only one cushion on the floor.

It was clean and simple, but somehow strangely eerie.

That was Hoffa's first impression of the society.

After bringing Hoffa inside, the masked woman didn't pay attention to him. She picked up a bouquet of violets from the stone platform and walked toward a row of paintings.

The people in these paintings all wore masks, a variety of them. But unlike the living paintings outside, these were more like muggle artwork—they were motionless, hanging on the walls with thick dust covering the glass.

Under each painting was a transparent vase.

Some vases held fresh violets, while others had dry, withered flowers that hadn't been replaced in years.

The masked woman took the withered flowers out of the vases and replaced them with the fresh ones.

Her movements were slow, solemn, and mysterious.

For some reason, Hoffa felt like this wasn't a clubroom—it felt more like a tomb.

The atmosphere was too eerie, and there was no one else around. It felt lifeless, and the firepits didn't provide any warmth.

Hoffa involuntarily shivered and looked around, trying to find anyone else, but no matter how he looked, there was no one in the underground hall except for the masked woman slowly changing the flowers in the vases.

Finally, after finishing with the flowers, the masked woman walked up to the stone platform and pointed to the only cushion on the floor.

"Sit."

"Where is everyone else?" Hoffa asked as he sat down, glancing around.

"The society consists of just me," the masked woman answered in her ethereal voice.

Hoffa was shocked.

"But you said the society was full!"

"As long as one person can accomplish the work of ten, the existence of the other nine becomes meaningless," the masked woman said, her hands folded in her sleeves as she stood behind Hoffa.

"But you're lucky. I just happened to be looking for someone to help organize the society. And here you are."

"Will you teach me spells?" Hoffa asked, half-doubting. He couldn't shake the unsettling feeling growing inside him.

"If you pass the real test, I wouldn't mind."

The masked woman walked over to the stone platform, drew her wand, and pointed it at the pile of glass boxes stacked by the edge. The boxes slowly opened, and she retrieved a scroll from one of them.

Hoffa furrowed his brows slightly.

"What's the test?"

"It's simple. The Violet Wizards Society is a spell-learning organization. We naturally have the responsibility to help students learn magic."

She placed the scroll in front of Hoffa.

"I don't know who told you that our society teaches spells, but it's clear you've misunderstood us. Our test is to have the student learn any spell within a short period. If you can do that, you'll pass."

"But if I can't learn it..." Hoffa hesitated.

The masked woman unfurled the scroll.

"The consequences are your responsibility. Please proceed."

Hoffa looked at the scroll in front of him, only to find it filled with flowing white light. There was nothing else on it.

"This…" Hoffa looked up, about to speak, but suddenly the white light on the scroll flared up. Hoffa felt himself twist in agony, as though twenty Dementors were tearing at his soul, rendering him unable to breathe.

Moments later, the white light faded.

Hoffa collapsed onto the table, unconscious.

The masked woman's expression was unreadable. She bent down to collect the scroll from the table, then took a small white hourglass from her sleeve and placed it beside Hoffa.

She glanced at his vacant eyes, her voice cold as she said, "A friendly reminder: In the book of spells, only a pure target is the one true reality."

(End of chapter)

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