Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Four figures plummeted from the sky, plunging toward the blue-black seawater below. Within seconds, they landed heavily on a glass surface, skidding uncontrollably across its slick expanse.

Hoffa heard a scream—likely the female vampire. Moments later, they slid down the smooth surface as though riding a water slide, plunging headlong into the sea.

The frothy seawater filled Hoffa's mouth with a bitter taste. He pushed himself out of the water, leaning against the slippery glass structure and kicking his legs to stay afloat. Beneath him was an unfathomable depth, and he had to stay firmly on the glass to avoid falling into the abyss.

Soon, Tom Riddle surfaced nearby with a splash. He stared at the sky in astonishment. "This is... inside a bottle?"

Hoffa looked up. The curved glass dome overhead gleamed like crystal, reflecting the torchlight from the room outside. The light shimmered on the water's surface, casting a phosphorescent red glow over the sea. In the distance, a massive warship sat silently, like a colossal sculpture.

With his night vision enhanced, Hoffa could clearly see German soldiers patrolling the ship, fully armed and numerous in number.

"A world within a bottle," Hoffa murmured, reaching back to touch the steep glass wall. What had seemed like an ordinary glass bottle was, in fact, a vessel containing a real warship—clearly the work of a powerful wizard.

Shifting his gaze from the distant ship, Hoffa noticed only two figures on the sea's surface.

"Where's Ryan?" he asked, remembering his Hufflepuff companion. He immediately began searching around. Ryan's hands had been tied by Tom—if he sank, he might not resurface.

But Tom didn't answer. Floating on the water, his eyes were fixed on the massive Scharnhorst in the distance. He muttered, "So, what you said was true... Someone really poisoned all the vampires?"

"Of course, it's true," Hoffa replied impatiently. "Where's Ryan? Where did he go?"

Tom ignored him, still staring at the warship. Suddenly, he turned his head and said, "You're serious, right? If we catch that guy, you'll stay silent and say I did it?"

"You—"

Before Hoffa could respond, a loud splash interrupted him. The drenched female vampire emerged, dragging a waterlogged Ryan with his hands still bound. Ryan had swallowed too much seawater, his face pale and sickly. Floating on the surface, he retched repeatedly. The vampire, standing silently behind him, patted his back while keeping a wary eye on the other two.

The scene brought back memories for Hoffa. He stared at his vomiting Hufflepuff classmate, momentarily forgetting Tom Riddle's question.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, Bach," Tom said, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Are you serious about this?"

Hoffa regained his composure, his expression unreadable. "We've been adversaries for a long time, but I've never lied to you. Once we catch him, do as you please. I'll leave quietly."

"Excellent. Very good," Tom replied with a bright smile. Extending his hand toward Hoffa over the water, he said, just as he had three years ago, "Let's forget the past. When I rise to power, I won't forget you."

Hoffa nodded, gripping the cold hand. "Then let's get to it."

Sssst!Heat surged from their clasped hands. In an instant, the cold hand became searing hot.

Hoffa's face darkened as he yanked his hand away. A black, snake-shaped mark now adorned his arm. His previously stoic expression twisted into a scowl. "What's the meaning of this, Tom?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just cooperation," Tom replied with a casual chuckle. "Every partnership needs a way to stay connected. With this Marking Charm, even if you get lost, I can find you."

He added, smiling brightly, "Don't be ungrateful. This is the first time I've used this spell on someone else. You should feel honored."

"Is that so?" Hoffa forced a strained smile. "How wonderful."

He withdrew his hand, resolving that once this ordeal was over, the first thing he'd do would be to remove this mark. The last thing he wanted was to be associated with history's first Death Eater.

After the handshake, Tom wasted no time. Pointing his wand at the water, he conjured a path of ice that stretched far into the distance. The frigid air crystallized the water into a solid white trail.

Leaping gracefully onto the ice, Tom yanked Ryan up by his collar. "You go first," he said coldly.

"I'll go ahead. My vision's better," Hoffa offered.

"No need, Bach. Your life is far more valuable than his."

Tom patted Ryan's head, grinning cruelly. "Those who make mistakes must pay for them."

He shoved Ryan forward. Stumbling, Ryan cast a desperate glance at the vampire before being pushed along the icy path.

The female vampire climbed out of the water last, her movements unsteady. Soaked from head to toe, the water dripping from her skirt quickly froze into a trail of ice on the path.

Curious, Hoffa slowed his pace to walk beside her. She clutched her chest and followed the others without looking at him.

"Riddle isn't focused on you right now. Why don't you escape?" Hoffa asked abruptly.

The vampire's lips twitched into a sneer. "Escape? Would you let me go? Would he?"

Her voice turned mocking. "Don't play dumb. Misbehavior leads to death—that's what you taught me."

Walking side by side for a few steps, she continued, "I thought wizards were more enlightened than Muggles, but it turns out you're all the same—no tolerance for outsiders."

"True. It's the same everywhere," Hoffa agreed, finding her words surprisingly reasonable. If anyone was an outsider, he was, as was Tom Riddle. But Tom knew how to mask his nature—how to excel, stand out, and conform to expectations.

After a pause, Hoffa asked, "Do you have to drink blood?"

"Think of me as a mosquito. That's all," she replied bluntly.

"But you don't have to kill. Can't you just feed and let them go? Recycle, so to speak," Hoffa said slowly.

"Ha ha ha, seriously? Have you no shame? My entire family has been slaughtered by you, and I haven't even said anything."

Her voice carried an uncontrollable trace of laughter. Ryan, walking at the front of the group, glanced back at her but was promptly shoved forward by Tom.

"You think I did it too?"

"Who else? You went underground, came out alive, and everyone else is dead."

Their conversation abruptly ended when a flash of fire in the distance illuminated the vampire's face. Hoffa, sensing danger, immediately shut his mouth.

Then came Ryan's shout from the front, "Get down!"

The frozen pathway Tom Riddle had conjured with magic shattered violently in an explosion.

Four walls of ice rose swiftly from all sides, a defensive spell cast by Tom Riddle. Hoffa spread his wings without hesitation, grabbed the vampire woman by her collar, and flew to the top of the bottle in an instant.

Amidst the misty spray of water, a deafening sound approached from the distance—it was a barrage of shells, as dense as raindrops, tracing graceful arcs of red before crashing onto the calm sea, sending up massive waves.

They've been discovered?

Hovering in the sky with the vampire in tow, Hoffa glanced back and cursed himself for his carelessness. He had removed the stopper from the giant glass bottle. Outside, it seemed inconsequential, merely a decorative piece in a large room. Whether it was plugged or unplugged didn't matter.

But now, with the proportions reversed, the opening appeared as a gaping hole in the sky, impossible to ignore. The inhabitants of the bottle had realized they were being invaded.

As the first wave of shelling ended, Hoffa folded his wings and descended to the sea's surface. The ice was already shattered and adrift in chunks.

The vampire woman broke free of Hoffa's grasp and ran a few circles on the fragmented ice, only to return, standing dumbfounded.

Hoffa scanned the area. His sharp night vision picked up a faint trace of blood. Flipping over a piece of broken ice, he found a bloodstained rope on the water's surface—the one Tom had used to bind Ryan's arms.

"Damn it."

He picked up the rope from the water, fuming silently.

Just then, the sky turned red again. Three seconds after the flash of light, a thunderous roar reached them as the second round of shelling commenced—this time, even more intense than the first.

With no time to think, Hoffa grabbed the vampire woman, stomped heavily on the ice, and took off with a single powerful beat of his wings, which then disappeared. His nighttime strength was nearly limitless. The shattered ice rippled, and with a speed too fast for the eye to follow, he darted toward the distant warship.

As he passed the warship, he saw its cannons rhythmically contracting, spewing red flames with each recoil. Rows of soldiers stood on the deck, binoculars trained on the distance. Some were deploying small boats from the lower docks, heading toward the spot where he and Tom had been.

The scene lasted less than a second. The soldiers barely felt a gust of wind before finding no trace of anyone.

Hoffa reached the warship's stern, clinging to its iron-plated exterior. With a few powerful leaps, aided by the beating of his thunderbird wings, he landed on the deck.

The soldiers were all gathered at the bow, facing the open bottle. The stern was deserted.

Confirming he hadn't been spotted, Hoffa let go of the vampire woman. She slumped to the ground, burying her hands in her hair, her expression obscured.

Even in this situation, Hoffa couldn't help but feel puzzled. He crouched down and asked, "Do you actually like him?"

"Like him?"

The vampire woman stood abruptly, her cold laughter cutting through the air. "Don't get me wrong. I've never had any feelings for him. To me, he's just dinner, no different from anyone else. I can't believe someone as smart as you would think otherwise."

Hoffa studied her eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Then go. Get as far away from here as you can and don't come back."

"What?"

The vampire looked at him in disbelief.

"You're of no use to me anymore. I don't need you to guide me, and I'm not interested in killing vampires. Go."

"You killed my entire family and claim you're not interested in killing vampires?" she snarled through gritted teeth.

"If I had truly killed them, why would I bother coming back now?"

The vampire froze and asked hesitantly, "Then why did you come back?"

Hoffa didn't bother explaining. He stood up, closing his eyes. An ancient predatory instinct surged within him. The three-ringed symbol on his chest glowed crimson, and every molecule of scent in the air became an informational thread. The scent of cleaning agents conjured images of soldiers scrubbing the deck, the smell of gunpowder recalled the rush of loading shells, and the metallic tang of blood painted a grim picture: someone's flesh had been cut open, their blood siphoned into an unknown body.

It was the scent of the nun. She was at the top of the tower.

When Hoffa opened his eyes again, his golden irises were tinged with red. The vampire woman, who moments ago had been brimming with hatred, now looked at him in astonishment. "You… you're one of us?"

Meanwhile, the bombardment ceased, leaving the glass bottle trembling on the table. Inside, the sea churned, smoke and flames roiling across the water—a spectacular, otherworldly scene.

As the waters calmed, a head emerged from the surface. Ryan gasped for air, staring at the sky.

On a distant speedboat, a soldier heard the splash and turned, shouting in his language. Several boats converged, soldiers armed with machine guns spraying bullets across the water.

Ryan raised his arm, summoning a transparent shield.

Bullets ricocheted off, pushing him backward. The shield cracked under the immense pressure. Gritting his teeth, he raised his wand. Before he could act, another figure burst from the water—a predator pouncing on prey.

It was Tom Riddle.

He seized a machine gunner by the neck and snapped it with a sickening crunch. The dying soldier's flailing shots hit two nearby boats, causing them to collide and explode in a fiery blast.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Ryan leaped aboard a speedboat, disarming the driver with a spell.

The soldiers regrouped, their pursuit like a stirred hornet's nest. Tom raised his wand skyward, releasing a brilliant green bolt. The night sky turned an ominous shade of emerald.

Before Ryan could comprehend the spell's purpose, green snowflakes began to fall. Mesmerized, he reached out to touch one, only to be jolted back by agonized screams.

The soldiers, touched by the flakes, writhed in agony. Their necks swelled grotesquely before bursting open, releasing a torrent of black snakes. Within moments, the battlefield was a writhing mass of serpents, the soldiers reduced to hollow husks.

Ryan, drenched in cold sweat, muttered, "Why such dark magic?"

Tom sneered. "Not your concern."

With a triumphant laugh, he held up a sprig of mistletoe, its leaves glowing faintly green. "Think this can turn black?"

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