Harry Potter: I am the Legend

As they approached the island at the center of the lake, Hoffa began to sense faint traces of magical energy.

These magical traces were chaotic and incomplete, quite similar to the fluctuations he had felt in the library before. If he had the chance, he would love to pause and study the ancient magic of this school.

But now was not the time.

Osivia swiftly stepped off the ice and onto the stony shore of the island at the lake's center. She put away her ice blades and quickly gathered her hair back into a bun.

Grabbing Hoffa's arm, she pulled him to stand on the dimly lit shore.

Under the dark night sky, the island was covered with towering, leafless trees so large it would take several people to encircle their trunks. Beneath the trees, there were occasional clearings where no snow had settled.

"Could there be white stone graves here?" Hoffa wondered silently.

"Lumos," Osivia murmured softly. Her wand's light illuminated the surroundings.

Hoffa looked down at his feet. Even with the snow cleared away, the ground was blanketed with thick layers of fallen branches and dead leaves. It seemed this place had been untouched by humans for centuries.

The two moved silently through the desolate forest. Apart from the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional crack of a breaking branch, there was no other sound. The surrounding branches and towering rocks reflected the snow's pale light, forming eerie and grotesque shapes.

After climbing over a hill, a blurry structure came into view about a hundred meters away. Judging by its appearance, it was a dark, old-fashioned chapel.

Osivia lowered her wand and said in a quiet voice, "I researched this. The Hogwarts headmaster who died before the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 is buried here."

Hoffa silently surveyed the ancient and shadowy land for a moment before turning to Osivia and saying, "I think we've gone mad."

"Why?" Osivia asked.

"Of all times, why come here now?"

"There's a world war raging outside. We don't have time to waste. If you can find the Forbidden Library before anyone else and destroy it, you could save tens of thousands of lives."

Osivia's voice was calm. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"You overestimate my sense of duty," Hoffa replied.

"You and I are different."

After this simple statement, Osivia raised her wand slightly and whispered, "Lumos Solem."

The light at the tip of her wand flew into the air, splitting into dozens of sparkling white points of light.

Some of the lights silently entered the dilapidated Scottish chapel, while others circled around Hoffa and Osivia, illuminating the dark and desolate island amidst the snow.

Under the glow of these scattered lights, Hoffa noticed a cluster of gravestones near the old chapel. The gravestones varied in size, and some were covered in snow, obscuring the details of the sculptures atop them.

The entire scene exuded an eerie yet strangely romantic atmosphere.

"Let's check the gravestones," Osivia suggested.

She led the way, and Hoffa, watching her back, asked, "You're a Durmstrang exchange student and a Slytherin who's only been in Britain for three years. How do you know so much about Hogwarts?"

"I simply spent the time others use for fun to explore hidden secrets," Osivia replied coolly, her response irrefutable.

The two stopped in front of the cluster of gravestones. The snow here was particularly deep, forcing Hoffa to activate his Shatter Grip ability to clear the snow around their feet.

As the snow was cleared, one gravestone after another emerged.

Hoffa crouched down and cleaned a gravestone. In the flickering light, he could barely make out the faint inscription: "Sam Beasley, 1210–1219." The rest of the words were too worn to decipher.

Turning his head, Hoffa asked, "Is this the one?"

"That's the seventh headmaster, not the one we're looking for," Osivia called from a distance. "The first headmaster died in the year 930."

930.

Hoffa moved from one gravestone to another, examining each one carefully.

The gravestones bore inscriptions of personal achievements and years of tenure.

On a gravestone carved with the image of a flying broomstick, Hoffa found these words…

Oliver Cromwell, 1462–1537

Proposed the Quidditch Rule Amendments

Founder of the House Cup Tournament

Inventor of the Oak Arrow series of flying brooms

Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports

Sixth President of the International Quidditch Association

"A headmaster who truly loved Quidditch," Hoffa thought as he moved to the next gravestone.

Hugh de Balsham, 1330–1461

Founder of the School of Wizarding Astronomy

Elder of the European Druidic Council

The Balancer of All Things

Grand Seer

Speaker of the Deer Tongue

Whisperer of the Trees

"Looks like a Hufflepuff graduate to me," Hoffa mused as he moved left to another gravestone topped with a giant's skull.

Removing the skull, he revealed the inscription beneath:

Ludwig Cavendish, 1328–1329

Chief Judge of the Wizengamot

Co-founder of Azkaban

Discoverer of ancient ruins such as Dragonstone Island, Kalmado, and Chrysoma

King of Spells

Master of Transfiguration

Giant Slayer

Werewolf Scourge

Doom of Dark Wizards

Dragon's Twilight

Died by suicide.

At the bottom of the epitaph, Hoffa noticed a final line carved in small letters:

"I've always hated sitting in an office."

Staring in shock at the epitaph of this headmaster from six centuries ago, Hoffa swallowed hard. "Hogwarts is truly a cradle of talent," he thought.

He continued examining the gravestones one by one.

Some headmasters had remarkably long tenures, lasting over a hundred years, while others held the position briefly, with the shortest term being just three months—even shorter than Severus Snape in later generations.

Yet without exception, all of them had died in office.

There were only a dozen or so gravestones in total, and it didn't take long to inspect them all.

Undoubtedly, every headmaster buried here had led a legendary life. However, there was no sign of the so-called "White Stone Tomb." The materials of these graves were simple and unassuming—just ordinary Scottish gray stones, entirely inconsistent with the descriptions Hoffa remembered from the statue's base.

Before long, Osivia returned, staring blankly at Hoffa with a slightly puzzled expression.

"So, where's the first headmaster we're looking for?" Hoffa asked.

"Didn't you find anything on your side?"

"Nothing."

Osivia shook her head. "I couldn't find it either."

Hoffa, unconvinced, ran over to check Osivia's side as well. The graves here were all for female headmasters, which made it even less likely since he distinctly remembered the headmaster from the mirrored world was male.

After circling around, they returned to their starting point.

Standing amidst the snowy graveyard, the two exchanged helpless glances.

"Maybe we should check inside the chapel," Hoffa suggested, pointing at the structure behind them.

In the moonlight, the ruined Gothic spire loomed high, though nearly half of it had collapsed. From the side, the interior was piled with rubble, making it hard to imagine they'd find any clues there.

Osivia hesitated briefly before saying, "Wizards aren't Muggles; very few are religious. It's rare for someone to be buried in a chapel."

"Then isn't it strange that there's a chapel here?"

"My thought is that we should come back tomorrow," she said after a pause, adding, "and bring Aurors with us. It'll be safer and more reliable."

Her suggestion made sense, and Hoffa nodded. "Alright, let's head back for now."

Osivia raised her wand to the sky, and all the glowing points of light in the air converged back into her wand. Darkness engulfed their surroundings once more.

As they slowly walked out of the graveyard, Osivia seemed unusually subdued, likely disappointed by the lack of valuable clues.

On their way downhill, amidst the barren forest, Hoffa broke the silence with a lighthearted comment. "You know, I realized something after looking at all those gravestones."

"What is it?"

"It seems like every Hogwarts headmaster was single."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"None of the gravestones mentioned family members—only accomplishments and terms of office."

Osivia replied coolly, "Maybe that's just what it means to be a wizard."

For some reason, her remark made Hoffa want to laugh, even in such an eerie place.

"Do you know much about Dumbledore?" Hoffa asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Not much. His views on Transfiguration clash with mine, and he wasn't very attentive when teaching me."

After a pause, Osivia said indifferently, "But there's no denying he's a very powerful wizard. Exceptionally powerful."

"Do you think he'll ever become headmaster?"

"Armando Dippet is still in good health. Is it really appropriate to talk about this now? Besides, I don't think someone with an ambiguous relationship with Gellert Grindelwald would become headmaster."

"How does everyone know about that?" Hoffa was taken aback.

Osivia didn't answer. Instead, she suddenly stretched out her arm to stop him, her green eyes darting around.

"What is it?"

"Shh." She motioned for silence.

Hoffa stood still, and a faint rustling sound reached his ears. He fell quiet, extending his mental field to survey the area.

Sure enough, there was a rustling sound nearby, like scales brushing against the snow.

Snakes? Hoffa whispered.

"No," Osivia said, her voice low and tense. "Lake creatures."

As soon as she spoke, multiple pairs of icy blue eyes lit up around them. Tall figures began to emerge from the shadows, the rustling sound of scales intensifying, mingled with the scrape of metal dragging across the ground.

Some carried stone spears, others dragged sharp anchors or heavy chains.

Osivia slowly pulled Hoffa behind her.

Before long, they were completely surrounded by the lake creatures.

The leader of the group was a massive figure, standing over two meters tall with bulging muscles and white mist billowing from its breath. Its hair, resembling octopus tentacles, writhed slowly in the air.

It opened its mouth, revealing razor-sharp teeth, and spoke in a guttural language:

"Ghor Daqvam baHlaHbogh 'Iv?"

Then it continued:

"Pe'el Hutlh choHwI' wIlIng."

Hoffa squinted, his heart pounding faster. He had encountered magical creatures before, many of them last year. He'd even seen centaurs with intelligence rivaling that of humans.

These creatures were completely different from centaurs, who were calm and mysterious.

Although Hoffa couldn't understand their language, he could sense a savage and frenzied energy lurking within them.

Osivia's expression was vigilant. "Can't you speak English?"

As soon as she spoke, all the lake creatures displayed mocking expressions, gripping their weapons tightly, their agitation growing. But the commotion soon subsided.

The burly lake creatures parted, revealing an elderly, frail, and hunched lake creature that seemed to be little more than skin and bones. It carried a wooden staff almost as tall as itself, with scales on its tail that had mostly fallen off.

Osivia shifted slightly, positioning herself fully in front of Hoffa.

The moment Hoffa saw this elder lake creature, a profound sense of danger gripped him. Despite its withered appearance, the creature radiated an overwhelming magical power, far exceeding that of any wizard he had encountered before.

"Are you the chieftain?" Osivia asked.

"What did you see?" the elder lake creature countered.

"Nothing at all," Osivia replied with a faint smile.

"Oh? And who are you?" the creature pressed, its tail swishing as it spoke. "Students?"

Its sparse teeth were accompanied by a tongue that was pitch black, and its voice carried an unsettling, almost hypnotic power.

Hoffa bit his tongue to stay grounded, feeling cold sweat bead on his back as his hairs stood on end. How could a humanoid creature be this terrifying?

Gripping Hoffa's hand, Osivia said, "We're just here on a date, wandering around. We were just about to leave."

"A date?"

The elder lake creature chuckled hoarsely.

"You, at your age, with him at his? Or do you think I'm blind?"

Hoffa's mental field tightened to its limit. He could feel the stones beneath his feet trembling, faint cracks forming on their surfaces.

Osivia didn't respond.

The elder lake creature sneered. "Kiss him, and I'll let you leave."

Hoffa locked eyes with its icy blue gaze, seeing nothing but mockery—a predator toying with its prey.

Osivia released his hand and cupped his face.

Hoffa was startled. She's serious?!

But Osivia merely leaned close to his right ear, her lips moving silently: "I'll hold it off. You head back to the school and find Dippet."

Then she lifted her head and declared, "There, I kissed him."

The elder lake creature tilted its head. "Interesting. A teacher doing such a thing to a student... Isn't that grounds for a trip to Azkaban, Miss Romanoff?"

Osivia's disguise fell away entirely as she drew her wand. "What are you up to? If you know I'm a teacher, how dare you stand in my way?"

"Teacher?"

The lake creature shook its head with a look of feigned regret. "This is our territory. You shouldn't have intruded."

"When did this become your territory?" Osivia retorted cautiously. "This is Hogwarts land. It has always been Hogwarts land."

"Always?" The elder lake creature smirked mockingly.

"Our kind has lived and thrived here for over ten thousand years. How long have you wizards been here? And you, a young witch barely grown, dare to lecture me about 'always'?"

As it finished speaking, the other lake creatures raised their weapons in unison.

Osivia took a wary step back. "What are you trying to do? Your ancestors signed an agreement with the school. According to that agreement, humanoid magical creatures residing within Hogwarts' boundaries are forbidden from harming students or teachers. I trust you're aware of that."

"Oh, I am."

"But the agreement has changed. Times must change too. You've come at the wrong time."

The elder lake creature tilted its head coldly. "Kill them."

(End of Chapter)

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