Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Hoffa lifted his head, the wounds on his face slowly healing.

"Don't be so stubborn. Let the other deans handle this," he said.

Ossivia withdrew her gaze from Hoffa's hand.

"I have to admit, you're the first student I've ever taught, and possibly the most exceptional one I'll ever teach in my life."

"Thank you for the compliment, Professor Romanoff. Can we call it even now?"

Ossivia shook her head. "I can give you an A+ for the semester, but don't even think about covering for anyone in this school."

"I'm not trying to cover for anyone. I just want the other deans to intervene."

"Do you think I don't know how they'll handle it?"

Ossivia's voice turned sharp with a biting sneer.

"They'll force this matter to disappear, as if it never happened. They'll erase your memory with an Obliviate spell just like they do with Muggles. To protect the secrecy of the wizarding world, they'll do the same to preserve this school's dirty secrets.

It's because of people who value stability above all else that chaos and injustice are allowed to fester."

Her voice grew louder.

"You tolerate it, every single day—compromise after compromise. You watch horrible things happen around you, and instead of acting, all you think about is how to maintain the stability of the group!"

Though her tone was calm, her body trembled, and the murderous aura in the air grew stronger. She was suppressing her fury with great effort.

"You think I won't change? When have you ever taken the initiative to change? From the beginning, you've dealt with me with that insufferable Ravenclaw arrogance, and even now, you stand before me, dripping with pride, accusing me of everything!"

Her words left Hoffa speechless.

He wanted to retreat, but a glance behind him made his legs feel as heavy as lead.

"Not this time," Hoffa said with difficulty, clutching a necklace tightly in his hand.

"No killing."

Ossivia threw down her wand and said bluntly, "You are indeed skilled in Transfiguration, but you know nothing about human transfiguration.

A true master of transfiguration doesn't rely on external objects."

She discarded her protective spells. Scales appeared around her eyes, eerie and otherworldly. Her right arm began to take on a faint green metallic sheen. The gleam soon enveloped her entire arm, which she raised, her nails as sharp as blades.

Hoffa staggered back in shock.

Ossivia had transformed her arm into metal while maintaining neural activity. It was an astonishing feat of transfiguration.

"Come, Bach," she said.

With a flick of her serpent-like tail, she vanished on the spot.

So fast!

Hoffa's eyes scanned his surroundings, but he couldn't keep up with her speed. He retreated rapidly, conjuring stone slabs to shield himself.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Explosions echoed as the slabs shattered one after another. When Ossivia emerged again, her entire body glimmered with metallic luster.

Hoffa didn't know what price this kind of transformation demanded, but it was undoubtedly steep. Ossivia had clearly unleashed her ultimate power.

She raised her arm without any flourish and smashed it down. Hoffa blocked with his sword.

They passed each other in a flash.

Boom!

The tiles beneath Hoffa's feet shattered into seven pieces. He fell to his knees, a metallic taste filling his throat.

He looked at his hand. Just that single clash had left his palm numb and bleeding.

He could feel the anguish of his wand. The impact had hurt it deeply; Ossivia's power in this state was overwhelming.

"Hang in there, buddy," Hoffa murmured, shaking his hand.

But trouble followed. The wound on his hand wouldn't heal.

His body began to shrink. His state of activation was fading, and his mental strength was nearing its limit.

Ahead, Ossivia turned slowly, half of her body now fully transformed into metal.

Damn it!

Hoffa glanced toward the stone prison, where countless Aurors had bound Dippet.

No more delays.

This had to end quickly.

He took a deep breath, stood up, forced himself to focus, and halted the decline of his activated state.

Hoffa's gaze locked onto Ossivia's eyes—the only weakness left on her entire body.

The broad sword in his hand gradually slimmed, morphing into a gauntlet that wrapped around his arm, forming a silver-white, slender punching blade.

Ossivia didn't even glance at his weapon. With a chilling tone, she said, "Still not giving up? How much longer can you last?"

"I can do this all day," Hoffa replied with a pale smile. "Professor Romanoff."

Ossivia swung her serpent tail, scattering rubble in every direction.

Hoffa focused all his strength into his arm, crouching with bent legs in a stance reminiscent of an ancient fencer. His eyes were fixed firmly on her only vulnerability.

Her figure grew larger in Hoffa's pupils.

Closer.

She raised her arm, the snakes on her head all baring their fangs.

Closer still.

Hoffa sidestepped and thrust his arm forward. The silver blade tip gleamed, magnifying in Ossivia's eye.

But to Hoffa's shock, Ossivia didn't evade. She completely ignored the blade poised to pierce her skull. With wild abandon, she opened her claws and struck at Hoffa's shoulder—a reckless, life-for-life assault.

Her green pupil was less than a centimeter from the blade.

It felt like the next moment would bring a burst eyeball and splattered brains.

Madwoman!

Gritting his teeth, Hoffa twisted the blade's trajectory. It grazed past her neck, leaving a deep, pale mark.

Then, excruciating pain erupted from his shoulder.

Ossivia's steel-like claws had pierced through Hoffa's shoulder. With a thundering impact, she slammed him against the wall, shaking the entire room.

Blood trickled down Ossivia's arm, dripping onto the ground. Hoffa hung partially suspended, his left arm completely paralyzed. With his right arm, he gripped Ossivia's arm tightly, his activated state fading.

The two faced each other. Hoffa coughed violently, specks of blood spraying onto Ossivia's face. With a raspy, bitter laugh, he asked, "Satisfied now?"

The red in Ossivia's eyes slowly receded. Gradually, her expression shifted from a cold, cruel satisfaction to one of stunned disbelief.

She retreated from her monstrous form.

Shrinking, slimming, until she became a disheveled young girl once more. But then, a gash split open on her pale neck, and blood began to pour from it.

With a soft plop, she withdrew her bloodstained hand from Hoffa's shoulder, pressing it against her own bleeding neck.

Both staggered back a step, equally battered.

Hoffa, clutching his left shoulder, slumped against the wall and turned his head to Ossivia. "Is this what you wanted?"

Ossivia looked down at her blood-soaked hand, then at the growing pool of blood beneath Hoffa, staining the solution around them red.

"Why didn't you dodge?" she asked expressionlessly, pushing away an Auror who approached to support her.

Hoffa picked up his wand from the ground with one hand. "Sorry, I can't let you destroy the school. Even if the headmaster is guilty, I want the matter judged by the proper authorities."

A few seconds of silence followed.

Ossivia's gaze turned hollow.

"I respect your choice. I won't interfere in Hogwarts' affairs anymore. This matter... I'll leave it to the Wizengamot. This is the end for us."

Hoffa looked at her, realizing that some innate flaws in a person's character might be impossible to change through life's experiences. Their team had never truly been stable—from the summer to now.

"This is the end," Hoffa said with a nod.

Ossivia stepped forward, extending her arm as if to offer a handshake.

But the gesture was misunderstood.

"Stop!!"

A thunderous roar came from the edge of the crowd.

Suddenly, a metallic arm appeared out of nowhere, slamming heavily into Ossivia's chest. The impact sent her flying over twenty meters, crashing deep into a wall.

The Aurors stepped forward in unison, but an invisible barrier emerged on the ground. Like two panes of unseen glass, it completely silenced them and prevented them from assisting Ossivia.

At the edge of the dark chamber, a tall man entered, both shocked and furious, his wand raised as he bellowed, "What is going on here!?"

It was Dumbledore.

Hoffa turned his head and sighed.

Finally, he had arrived.

The heads of all four houses stood at the entrance of the chamber, followed by a group of teachers from the school.

At once, an elderly Auror with graying hair stepped forward from the crowd, his demeanor grim as he declared, "This is a crime scene. No one is allowed entry."

Dumbledore pushed past him without hesitation, disregarding his warning.

Slughorn hurried forward, wand pointed at the elderly Auror with a stern expression.

"Stand down, Moros."

Dumbledore strode quickly to Hoffa's side, wrapping one arm around him. Pressing his fingers against Hoffa's wound, he stemmed the flow of blood.

Hoffa had never seen Dumbledore so enraged. Every strand of his auburn beard seemed to quiver, and the immense magical pressure radiating from him caused cracks to form in the walls and floor.

Turning his gaze toward the pile of rubble where the girl lay, Dumbledore said coldly:

"Miss Romanoff, this is your assistant. I believe you owe me an explanation!"

Ossivia slowly climbed out of the rubble. Facing Dumbledore's towering fury, she showed no fear—only utter, complete emptiness and disappointment in her eyes.

She looked at Hoffa for a few seconds, then turned her head to glance at the unconscious Dipet in the stone cell.

"Ask your superiors for an explanation," she said.

With that, she removed the silver badge symbolizing her position as a teacher, dropped it to the ground, and walked away with faltering steps.

Dumbledore moved to stop her, but the graying Auror blocked his way.

"The Ministry of Magic will handle this, Albus," he said firmly.

With those words, the barrier restraining the Aurors shattered. They followed behind Ossivia as she left.

By this time, the school's teachers, assistants, and prefects had all arrived at the scene. They stood there, stunned and incredulous at the unfolding events.

Dumbledore's expression was grim, but he chose not to pursue or argue further. Instead, he instructed three teachers to follow the Aurors' group.

Then, he helped Hoffa to his feet and handed him over to Slughorn.

"Take him for treatment," Dumbledore commanded.

Slughorn immediately supported Hoffa, murmuring, "Such a remarkable child. Come with me."

But Hoffa pushed away the stout Potions professor.

At that moment, the aftermath of his activated state crashed over him like a tsunami. An endless void washed over Hoffa's mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Yet one thing kept him standing, defying the debilitating exhaustion coursing through his body.

"Wait a moment, Professor Dumbledore."

Hoffa spoke up.

Dumbledore was inspecting the surroundings when he turned sharply, his voice stern: "What's going on? Go with Horace to get treated!"

But Hoffa handed Dumbledore the Ravenclaw token and pointed towards the black coffin in the corner, saying:

"Open it. Destroy it."

The heads of the four house leaders all turned to the black coffin in the corner of the dark chamber.

Seeing the coin in Hoffa's hand and then looking at the black coffin in the corner, Dumbledore appeared almost dazed as he muttered, "I'm not sure if I should do this."

"This is the source, don't you understand, Professor? It was Grindelwald's."

Hoffa's head grew increasingly heavy as he pressed his hands to his temples, urging heavily, "Hurry, finish my work."

Dumbledore glanced at the other house leaders around him. He took a deep breath, accepted the coin, and helped Hoffa to his feet.

The two moved to the coffin, and Dumbledore pressed the coin into the center of the three rings.

Click—a mechanism seemed to trigger as all three rings simultaneously rotated. The crown, the bracelet, the coin.

The goat's head slowly parted, revealing a handle inside.

Dumbledore grasped the handle and heaved the entire coffin lid open. At that moment, he raised his wand, pointing it at the coffin.

The other house leaders also drew their wands. Then, slowly, all their wands lowered.

Endless knowledge?

Or remains of someone's bones?

No.

There was nothing.

No piles of books, no decayed corpses, and nothing dreadful happened.

Aside from some years of dust that sifted down from the coffin's lid, there was nothing else.

It was empty.

As if it was silently mocking everyone present.

Hoffa, witnessing all this, had expected it. He pursed his lips, letting out a deep breath, the effects of the activated state and the failed struggle completely draining his mental strength.

All his efforts, spent in vain, vanished into thin air over two months.

He muttered to himself, "What have I been doing?"

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09