Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Hoffa, who had initially been full of anticipation, couldn't help but cover his face.

"The knowledge of the mad will inevitably deviate from your expectations once obtained."

How true this saying was.

Before he could wallow in his frustration for long, a high-pitched whistle from a ship snapped him back to reality. Standing on the high cliff of the cape, Hoffa saw a massive, vintage oil tanker approaching in the distance.

The ship's towering red smokestacks gave him an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if he were looking at the Titanic.

Checking his watch, he realized he had been wandering around Twin Horn Cape for two hours without noticing. Worried that Senior Olsivia might have been waiting for a long time, he quickly made his way down to the pier.

As soon as he arrived, he saw a young witch in a green robe standing with her arms crossed, glaring at him angrily.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you forever," she snapped.

"Just wandering around," Hoffa replied casually.

"Stay close to me. Don't wander too far. Headmaster Dippet told me to look after you," she said in an indisputable tone. "Also, we're about to board. Can you take off those sunglasses?"

It seemed Olsivia was holding back some irritation from her long search for him.

Not wanting to provoke the stern witch, Hoffa removed his sunglasses. The sunglasses slowly transformed into a wand in his hand.

A Transfiguration spell—impressive.

This caught Olsivia by surprise, and she gave Hoffa an extra glance.

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Nothing," Hoffa replied calmly.

Olsivia didn't press further about his eyes. It was time to board.

The ship that had approached was even larger than it had appeared from the cape.

He wanted to ask something more, but Olsivia had already descended the spiral staircase. They made their way through the bustling crowd into a white-painted corridor lit brightly, with beige carpeting underfoot.

As they walked, she held the tickets in her hand, checking the room numbers.

Finally, she stopped, handing one of the tickets to Hoffa. "Hold onto this. Don't lose it," she said.

With that, she pushed open the door and entered her room.

Hoffa's room was right next to the senior Slytherin's. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by an entirely white interior—a bed, a desk, and two cabinets, all white.

He was quite satisfied with the cabin. Even though it was economy class, it was very clean, far tidier than the place he had stayed in London's red-light district. Through the oval-shaped window, he could see the vast blue Atlantic Ocean.

Placing his bag down, Hoffa, on his first voyage, felt an excited thrill as he gazed out the window. Would there be an adventure? A romantic encounter? Perhaps an iceberg?

Knock, knock!

A cold and measured knock broke his reverie.

Turning around, he saw the green-robed senior standing at his door.

"Dinner time," she said.

The serene and composed demeanor of this forest-like girl always had a calming effect on Hoffa. She was like a meticulously crafted clock, functioning with mechanical precision. Hoffa often thought that if he opened her head, he might find layer upon layer of circuits and discover she was actually a robot.

Their rooms were located at the rear of the ship, directly facing the mid-level dining hall.

Being a cruise ship, seafood dominated the menu. Much like a buffet, house-elves wearing chef hats displayed a variety of seafood on the serving counters.

There were scallops nestled in ice, lobsters garnished with cherries, crabs as large as a person's head, and even bright red cuts of raw fish whose species Hoffa couldn't identify.

Many of the dishes were things Hoffa had never seen at Hogwarts.

Intrigued, he loaded his plate with crabs and clams.

Olsivia, on the other hand, calmly selected only some fruit and bread, showing none of the excitement of a first-time traveler. For Europeans, perhaps traveling by ship was just another mundane experience.

She ate her fruit in small bites while engrossed in her copy of the Daily Prophet, her behavior reminiscent of modern people scrolling through their phones during meals.

Hoffa didn't want to disturb her and instead focused on his food. He cracked open a crab shell, dripping sauce into it, ready to savor the creamy roe.

At that moment, voices from a nearby table of wizards reached his ears.

"Did you see today's news?"

"No, what happened?"

"Konstantin was found."

"Which Konstantin?"

"Which one do you think? Konstantin Ilyich Romanov!"

"The former Minister of Magic of the Soviet Union!?"

Hoffa, about to sip the broth from the crab, was drawn to their conversation.

"Guess where they found his body?"

"What? His body!?" someone exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"That's right, in Siberia. It took over three months of searching, but they finally found him on the Siberian tundra. When they discovered him, he was frozen solid, stuck to the ground so tightly they couldn't peel him off."

The wizards at the neighboring table gasped audibly.

Lowering his voice, one of them added, "Do you know what's the strangest part?"

"What?"

"Tell us!"

"Konstantin was shot."

"Shot? What's that?"

"A Muggle weapon."

"Are you kidding me!?"

"Hey."

"Hey!"

An annoyed female voice broke through Hoffa's focus, pulling him back to the present.

Hoffa blinked and looked across the table.

Olsivia was frowning at him, pointing to his chest. Hoffa glanced down and realized that he had been so absorbed in listening that the crab roe had spilled from the shell, dripping onto his napkin.

Hurriedly, he wiped it off and continued eating absentmindedly, though most of his attention was still on the conversation at the nearby table.

That said, Hoffa only treated what he overheard as an interesting story. He didn't take it too seriously.

His main goal was to quickly repair his magical watch, return to London, find a job, and earn enough money to buy books and robes for the next school year.

For Hoffa, making money was the top priority.

Life on the Le Papillon was pleasant. The purser, a person with an eye for detail, managed everything meticulously. Whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner, or the late-night snack at 8 PM, the tables were always filled with plates of freshly cooked meat and various side dishes.

As a luxury wizarding cruise, the Le Papillon also offered vibrant nightlife. There were goblin-run roulette casinos and elf-operated themed bars.

However, Hoffa couldn't enter any of these extravagant venues—he had no money and was too young.

Even if he had the means, he wasn't particularly interested in such attractions.

He often wondered why, in the original stories, Ron and Harry seemed to lose their heads over Veela.

Watching wizards showering Veela with handfuls of Galleons only left Hoffa puzzled.

When the sea was calm, the ship featured musical performances—piano, accordion, and the like. Hoffa often spent his evenings sitting backward on a chair, resting his chin on his hands as he watched the sea-going artists perform.

But aside from the music and dancing, Hoffa's entertainment options were limited.

Once the initial excitement wore off, all that remained was the monotony of the voyage and the endless expanse of ocean.

As for Olsivia, his traveling companion...

She was not the humorous type. Her favorite activity was reading the newspaper. Day after day, she read The Daily Prophet—over and over again.

After three days, Hoffa couldn't contain his curiosity. Was the newspaper really that fascinating?

Seizing the opportunity when Olsivia went to the restroom, he flipped through the copy she had left on the table.

To his surprise, the newspaper she had been reading was from three months ago. It contained a detailed account of the disappearance of the Soviet Minister of Magic.

This event had been the hot topic of discussion among the passengers lately.

Even Hoffa found it baffling.

The Minister of Magic, shot?

The idea was absurd. Didn't the Soviet Union have Aurors?

And wouldn't a Minister of Magic know how to cast a Shield Charm?

Before Hoffa could read further, Olsivia returned to the cabin.

Seeing Hoffa inside, she coldly asked, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Hoffa said, putting the newspaper down.

"Don't touch my stuff," the Slytherin witch said coldly.

Hoffa frowned but didn't reply. Dealing with a Slytherin wasn't a pleasant experience—in fact, it was somewhat dreadful. She was not someone who was easy to talk to.

That night, the sky was shrouded in thick clouds. Hoffa didn't see any performances from the sea artists. Instead, he noticed the towering captain, cloaked and barrel-shaped, pacing around the hall, tapping his wand incessantly against his hand.

An announcement echoed throughout the ship, warning that a torrential storm was approaching and all passengers were forbidden from going onto the deck.

At first, Hoffa didn't think much of it. He had never experienced a storm at sea and assumed the ship was sturdy enough to handle it.

But he soon realized how wrong—and naive—he had been.

The gentle breeze turned into a strong wind blowing from the southeast, gradually escalating to a gale with speeds of fourteen meters per second. A deluge of rain followed, the droplets striking like electrified feathers.

By 9 PM, the wind speed had reached 25 meters per second, turning the rain into a horizontal torrent.

The sea grew wilder as powerful gusts shattered the waves into foam, spraying water everywhere. Sheets of water slammed against the windows, obscuring the view.

By midnight, the glowing wind-speed indicator in Hoffa's cabin displayed a shocking number: 51 meters per second. The magical dial even seemed to shudder in fear.

Such winds were strong enough to uproot houses and snap iron fences.

On the ocean, the Le Papillon alternated between plunging into deep troughs and cresting towering peaks.

Hoffa sat pale-faced in his small cabin, swaying violently with the ship's movements.

Through the rain-battered glass, he could see nothing but sheets of relentless downpour.

Every item in the cabin had been enchanted with anti-shake and anti-fall charms, keeping them from toppling over. Yet everything trembled violently in place.

The deafening sound of the ship slamming against the waves filled Hoffa's ears. His eyes fixed on the ship's rear lantern, which swung wildly in the wind—a flickering beacon of resilience against the furious storm.

Amidst the massive storm, the ocean waves resembled rolling mountains, some towering over 20 meters high. These watery peaks seemed like monstrous hands, mercilessly toying with the 100-meter-long cruise ship.

The turbulence was terrifying.

Half an hour later, the rear lantern finally gave in, its light snuffed out by the raging sea. The world outside Hoffa's window was plunged into darkness.

Even though Hoffa could transform into a Thunderbird, which enhanced his abilities in stormy weather, this tempest rendered any such advantage insignificant.

The winds whipped the ocean waves into a frenzy, making them resemble smoky mountain ranges charging and roaring. Sitting on his bed, Hoffa watched the enormous peaks through the window, his heart pounding with fear.

Was this the magic of nature?

It was terrifying!

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating everything in fiery red. The Le Papillon tilted sharply as its steel bow reared up like a lightning rod, sparks erupting from its tip.

In that moment, Hoffa felt it—something was out there in the storm.

Something lurking in the murky, rain-shrouded sea.

Frowning, he pressed himself against the rain-smeared window, trying to focus his senses.

There it was. Among the mountainous waves, a shadow moved beneath the surface.

What kind of creature would venture near the surface in such a violent storm?

Then he saw it.

In the flash of lightning, a ten-meter-long emerald figure leaped high from the waves, coiling and crashing down onto the deck.

Hoffa's eyes widened in shock.

A snake?

(End of Chapter)

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