Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Since Talas had no intention of staying, Hoffa knew he couldn't force it.

He glanced at the distant mass of flesh and eyes, then at the eye-shaped mark on the back of his hand, now half-closed.

It was time to go back.

Sensing his intent, the giant maggot creature let out a panicked roar. Its fusion incomplete, it staggered clumsily, smashing through countless hunched figures on the stone bridge in its mad pursuit.

Turning to look at the grotesque, four-limbed monster behind him, Hoffa couldn't help but curse inwardly. Joey, you're as much of a troublemaker as Indor.

What kind of karmic debt was he paying off? Hoffa couldn't recall meeting a single "normal" person in this life. Why did everyone seem hell-bent on causing him trouble?

As he sped up, he sheathed his wand.

Repeated use of Transfiguration had drained his magical energy significantly. He couldn't afford to overexert himself—one misstep, and collapsing from exhaustion could spell disaster in this place.

Seeing Hoffa disarm himself, the maggot monster picked up its pace. As it ran, it gradually reshaped itself into an oversized version of Hoffa, grotesquely mimicking his running posture in disturbing detail.

Its legs alone were ten times the length of Hoffa's, and its sheer momentum scattered the countless dark shadows on the bridge, sending them sprawling with anguished cries.

Hoffa glanced over his shoulder and saw the creature closing in rapidly. Panic tightened his chest.

Then, suddenly, a sharp, piercing cry rang out in the distance.

A deafening boom followed, nearly rupturing Hoffa's eardrums.

He turned to see a bird-shaped streak of lightning tearing through the void.

With unfathomable power, the lightning bolt pierced the maggot giant's chest in an instant.

The creature didn't even have time to scream. It disintegrated into a torrent of writhing sludge, scattering across the bridge in all directions.

Residual electric arcs crackled fiercely on the ground, making Hoffa's scalp tingle, though he remained unharmed.

As the maggots dispersed, a figure emerged slowly from the lightning—a strikingly handsome young man.

His body was human-like, yet covered in shimmering dark scales and intricate golden patterns.

"Apologies for being late," the man said politely.

"I'm not human, you see. To cross the Bridge of the Past, I had to obtain permission from its guardians. Otherwise, I'd never be able to take flight again."

As the man approached, the electric arcs around him faded.

He wore no clothing. His gray hair, golden eyes, and impeccably sculpted muscles seemed almost blindingly radiant.

"T-Talas?" Hoffa's eyes widened. He couldn't reconcile this stunningly divine figure with the dying thunderbird he had encountered in the Forbidden Forest.

"That was my name in a previous life," the man said with a nod. "I remember you. Aren't you one of those children from the magical school? How did you end up here?"

The man—Talas—looked at Hoffa warmly. "This was reckless. You don't belong here. Wizards have their rules, and the living belong to the world of the living. If I had been even a moment later, you might have lost yourself entirely to the abyssal Desire Worms."

"Desire Worms?" Hoffa pointed at the hunched figures carrying stone tablets around him.

"These?"

"They are the unfortunate souls unwilling to let go of the past," Talas said, shaking his head. "Desires and obsessions bind them. This is the path they chose for themselves."

"Don't be like them."

Hoffa stared blankly for a few seconds before remembering his mission.

"Right! Joey sent me to find you," he said, turning his gaze to a maggot still twitching from the residual electricity.

"He asked me to tell you… he hopes you can…"

Chapter 37: A Mysterious Mark

"Don't forget him, right?"

Talas tilted his head slightly, interrupting Hoffa.

Hoffa nodded. "That's right."

"What reckless behavior, Joey," the impossibly handsome man sighed. "To send a soul into the Underworld so casually—he's shaving years off his own life by doing this."

"Will you keep a memory of him? About Joey?" Hoffa asked, his eyes focused on Talas's shoulder—mostly because the man's complete lack of clothing was making him uncomfortable.

Talas shook his head slowly but firmly.

"Joey wants me to remember him, to return to him. I understand. The greatest sorrow for humans is to be forgotten by those they love. But under the sun, there's nothing truly new. If one cannot learn to forget, how can one fully embrace a new life?"

"Can't you choose, though? Like a phoenix?" Hoffa asked, baffled by the idea that any creature would reject immortality.

"A phoenix is different from us," Talas replied. "It is a witness to history, while we are merely participants. For a thunderbird, freedom is far more important than eternal life. Only by overcoming the ultimate fear can one attain the purest form of freedom in life."

Hoffa didn't entirely understand Talas's words. Perhaps he wasn't enlightened enough yet.

Still, he was just a messenger. Having delivered his message, he felt there was nothing more for him to say.

"Well, I'm off," Hoffa said softly, turning to leave.

"Wait."

The impossibly handsome man stopped him.

"What is it?" Hoffa turned back.

"Do you have enough magic left?"

At Talas's question, Hoffa suddenly realized that his magical reserves were nearly depleted after repeated uses of Transfiguration.

He shook his head. "Not much."

Talas chuckled. "You are the most peculiar wizard I've ever encountered. Your mental power is astonishingly high—Helheim's icy winds couldn't break you. But your magical reserves are pitifully low, barely half of what a normal wizard your age would have."

Hoffa remained silent.

Talas gestured toward the bridge. "Without magic, you won't be able to repel the Desire Worms. They're drawn to your life force and will hound you relentlessly until you fall to their level."

Looking around, Hoffa noticed that the previously stunned maggots were starting to stir again. Worse, more were climbing onto the bridge from the abyss below.

"Do you have a solution?" Hoffa asked.

Talas nodded. "It's fortunate you came. I'm about to end this life early, and I have some power left—it's of no use to me anymore. Take it. And tell Joey to take good care of my descendants."

Stepping forward, Talas suddenly grabbed Hoffa's hand.

"Go back—and find a way to improve your magical reserves when you have time."

With a crackling burst of electricity, Talas pushed Hoffa forcefully.

A surge of energy flowed from Hoffa's left hand through his entire body. His eyes widened in shock—this was a sensation he had never experienced before.

He felt like he could accomplish anything he desired.

He wanted to say goodbye to Talas, but before the words could leave his lips, Talas smiled warmly, waved one last time, and vanished into the horizon as a streak of lightning.

Now brimming with explosive power, Hoffa noticed a golden glimmer in his eyes.

He turned, took a step, and in the blink of an eye, covered dozens of meters.

The sensation was exhilarating.

On the back of his hand, the eye-shaped mark was nearly closed. Hoffa sprinted at full speed, moving across the straight stone bridge a hundred times faster than when he first arrived.

But the maggots crawling up from beneath the bridge multiplied rapidly. Swarms of grotesque creatures formed and relentlessly pursued him, intent on attaching themselves to his soul.

The closer he got to the giant eye, the more monstrous creatures appeared—eventually forming a grotesque army.

They fought fiercely against the electric light, hurling themselves at Hoffa in waves, hundreds upon hundreds.

Hoffa's forward charge began to slow.

Yet he felt no fear. The surging magic within him filled him with a wild, primal desire to fight, tinged with an inexplicable, animalistic instinct.

He raised his hand and gripped his wand tightly. Fueled by his overflowing magic, it rapidly lengthened and grew. Two meters. Five meters. Ten meters—and still, it didn't stop.

Finally, the wand transformed into a colossal, forty-meter-long electrified sword. Hoffa dragged its hilt as he sprinted, carving an enormous arc through the air.

Everything within a forty-meter radius was sliced cleanly in half.

It was a pity that Hoffa's exhilaration lasted only a fleeting second before the magic Talas had given him was fully exhausted. Unopposed, Hoffa slammed headfirst into the massive eye.

And disappeared into its pupil.

After Hoffa passed through, the enormous fleshy eye slowly closed. In the icy winds of Helheim, it disintegrated into dust.

Once again, Hoffa traversed layers upon layers of space.

It felt like waking from a bizarre and surreal dream. As he regained consciousness, his previously blank eyes returned to normal.

A faint crackle of electricity flickered briefly in his gaze before fading away.

He smelled the earthy scent of dried grass and felt the softness of soil beneath his cheek. The crisp chill of a Scottish autumn sharpened his senses.

Groaning, Hoffa managed to sit up, rubbing his temples. His head throbbed with a very real pain, reminding him that he had once again overdrawn his magic.

He noticed a peculiar sensation on the back of his hand.

Looking down, he saw that the blood-red eye was gone. In its place was a faint golden mark, barely visible unless inspected closely. It resembled an eagle, symmetrical and intricately simple, as if painted with gold dust.

Just as Hoffa was wondering about the mark, a man rushed out of the shadows, grabbed his shoulders, and stared at him with desperate hope.

"Well? Did he agree to come back?"

It was Joey.

Snapping out of his daze, Hoffa looked at Joey and then at the massive bird corpse nearby. Shaking his head regretfully, he slowly relayed Talas's final words.

As Hoffa spoke, the excitement on Joey's face gradually faded, replaced by an uncontrollable sadness.

When Hoffa finished, Joey stood silently for a long time, holding the bird egg in his arms.

A cold wind rustled through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Finally, the desolate old man let out a long sigh and murmured softly, "I knew it would end this way. Death is a game for the brave. Talas, I'll never measure up to you."

Hoffa didn't know how to console Joey, so he simply remained silent. But Joey soon composed himself.

Patting Hoffa's shoulder, Joey said sincerely, "You've gone through so much. You're the bravest Ravenclaw I've ever met."

Brave?

Hoffa rolled his eyes, thinking, If you had told me from the start that I'd be heading to the Underworld, I wouldn't have gone even if you broke my legs. You totally conned me into this.

Still, at least he had made it back. A month of grueling effort had finally come to an end.

Hoffa had no desire to recount his perilous adventures in Helheim. All he wanted now was to return to the common room and relax by the warm fireplace in Ravenclaw Tower.

He extended his hand. "The evaluation?"

Joey, still holding the egg, fished a crumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket with his free hand.

"Here's your evaluation. I gave you an Outstanding. Go back, and if you ever run into trouble, come find me. But don't get on the bad side of Hogwarts' higher-ups. They don't play around."

Hoffa took the parchment and saw a big red checkmark next to "Outstanding" at the top. Beneath it was Joey's signature and seal.

Satisfied, Hoffa tucked the parchment into his pocket.

After bidding farewell to Joey at the treehouse, Hoffa rubbed his still-aching head and made his way back to the castle.

As he walked back to the castle, Hoffa kept examining the strange, faint golden pattern on the back of his hand.

This was what Talas had left him in the Underworld. Initially, Hoffa thought the power it granted was a one-time thing, used up and gone.

But now, it didn't seem to be the case. Hoffa was intensely curious about what this mark truly was.

He felt as though something inside him was flowing into the pattern, as if he had grown a new organ that could "breathe."

While scrutinizing it, Hoffa reached the school gates, but the sharp pain in his head suddenly intensified.

His expression changed. Something was wrong.

He hadn't used any magic, so why were the symptoms of magical exhaustion worsening?

The flow from the golden pattern became even more pronounced.

And then, an odd sensation crept into his mind—a bizarre hunger.

Hunger?

Hoffa froze in place, glancing at his arm again.

At last, he understood.

The golden pattern was devouring his magic, and at an alarming rate.

Crap!

As the headache grew worse, Hoffa immediately sat cross-legged on the ground and began to meditate.

As soon as he started, the sensation of hunger hit him with full force. It wasn't a physical hunger but a ravenous craving for magical energy.

Not daring to delay, Hoffa repeatedly practiced the Milarepa Seeker Meditation Technique to rapidly restore his magic.

After an hour of focused meditation, the hunger finally subsided. Gritting his teeth, Hoffa stood up, determined to reach the common room and figure this thing out.

But he had barely taken a few steps when the hunger returned.

It was like a demanding infant, crying out for constant nourishment.

Caught off guard by the sudden headache, Hoffa leaned against a wall, clutching his head.

What the hell?!

Ignoring the startled stares of nearby students, Hoffa had no choice but to sit down and meditate again.

This cycle repeated. Each time Hoffa meditated for an hour and recovered his magic, the faint golden tattoo would drain him completely in mere seconds or minutes without giving anything back.

After the third round of meditation, Hoffa's initial curiosity and fascination were completely gone, replaced by anger and bewilderment.

Standing at the castle entrance, he yelled into the sky, startling a flock of pigeons into flight.

"Hey, you old bird! What the hell did you leave on me?!"

(End of Chapter)

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