Harry Potter: I am the Legend

After enduring a long and grueling day, Hoffa climbed to his feet. He picked up the glass orb imprisoning the God of Nightmares, along with two black and green mistletoe twigs. Pushing open the door, he began ascending to the higher levels of the blockhouse once again.

Night fell once more, and it was as if Hoffa was in his element. The three-ring scar on his chest glowed vividly like fire. Not only did all his wounds heal in an instant, but his spirit also seemed unusually revitalized. However, this time, he dared not harbor even a shred of complacency.

For reasons unknown, Mans did not intervene during his battle with Tom. Hoffa doubted that his transfiguration could have trapped Mans for half a day. This fleeting calm felt more like the silence before a storm, leaving him deeply unsettled.

The blockhouse and ship's cabins were pitch dark, devoid of any people. The only sound came from the faint crackle of his footsteps on the floor. At any other time, Hoffa might have been pleased with such an environment; after all, the night and darkness offered him excellent protection.

But just hours earlier, he had witnessed four identical Mans moving in unison. Now, finding the place utterly empty only amplified his apprehension. He worried that the next corner he turned might reveal a horde of Mans, ready to rewind time back to daylight once again.

As if confirming his fears, when he reached a corridor on the third deck of the ship—a section used by soldiers for rest—he spotted a little girl's head poking out from a small room. She had twin pigtails and looked adorably innocent.

Hoffa immediately froze. His figure blurred and vanished into the corridor. He would have preferred an encounter with Mans over anything as unpredictable as this.

Moments later, another head emerged from a different room. This time, it was a young boy. The two children curiously stared at the spot where Hoffa's form had disappeared.

"I heard something. Is that you, big brother?" the boy asked timidly, his voice echoing softly down the empty corridor.

Fully alert, Hoffa studied their appearances and was startled when he recognized them. He reappeared, stepping cautiously forward.

"Who are you?" he crouched down to take a closer look. These were among the children Chloe had brought from France.

"What are you doing here? It's dangerous!"

Hoffa glanced around anxiously, lowering his voice. "Hurry and find a place to hide!"

The boy shook his head and crawled out from under the small room. Hoffa guessed they had been hiding beneath the soldiers' bunks.

"The officer already left," the boy said. "He left an hour ago, and we don't know where he went."

"Officer?" Hoffa's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean Mans Müller?"

"Yes, that's his name," the little girl said, frowning as she nudged the boy's shoulder. "Why do you call him 'sir' so respectfully?"

"He was really nice to us. He gave me candy every day," the boy replied honestly.

"Ugh, so what if he gave you candy? He's obviously a bad guy! He could sell you, and you'd still thank him!" The girl smacked the boy on the head.

The boy covered his head, looking aggrieved.

Hoffa had no time to dwell on why the boy called Mans "sir." Instead, his thoughts turned to Chloe. Had Mans taken her while he waited for nightfall? Damn it, why was he so slow?

"Hey, have you seen the nun?" he asked, crouching down and gripping the boy's shoulders.

The boy patted Hoffa's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Sister Chloe is fine. She's waiting for you. But she can't move; you have to help her."

Hoffa breathed a sigh of relief. Chloe hadn't been taken. He quickly ruffled the boy's hair.

"Alright, gather everyone together. I'll take you all out of here. We need to leave immediately."

"No, Sister Chloe can't meet you," the little girl suddenly interjected.

"Why not?" Hoffa was puzzled. The boy had just said Chloe was waiting for him; why was the girl now saying otherwise?

"Do you have something for us?" the girl asked, holding out her hand and staring at him without blinking.

"Something for you?" Hoffa asked, confused.

"I can't tell you," the girl replied. Her hand remained outstretched, and her expression held a mischievous glint, in stark contrast to the boy's straightforward demeanor.

"Stop beating around the bush. What are you talking about?" Hoffa frowned and pinched her cheek. Her face was soft to the touch, and she pouted like an angry little pufferfish.

"Forget it," Hoffa said, crossing his arms. "I don't have any candy. Just take me to Chloe."

The girl withdrew her hand and shrugged. "Fine. But if you change your mind, you can give it to us anytime. Once we leave this ship, though, it'll be too late."

She emphasized "change your mind" with deliberate weight.

Hoffa observed the two children's mysterious behavior and began to think deeply. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "Enough of this nonsense. Where are the others? Why is it just you two? Chloe brought back a dozen kids from France."

"They're..." the boy began, but the girl quickly covered his mouth.

"Shh! Don't say it. If you say it, it won't work anymore."

The boy nodded reluctantly, looking serious. "Okay, I won't say it."

The girl flicked her hair and gestured with a pale finger. "Come on, I'll take you to Sister Chloe."

Hand in hand, the two children ran ahead through the empty corridors. Hoffa followed them, his mind racing. He felt like he was beginning to understand something, but he couldn't confirm it yet.

The path he had taken earlier with the vampire was now destroyed from the battle. The children led him up another staircase to the blockhouse. They seemed familiar with the place, as though they had been hiding there for a long time.

At the top floor, Hoffa once again stood before the room where Chloe had been drained of blood. He remembered seeing Grindelwald's illusion here previously.

The girl stopped and said, "This is as far as we'll take you."

"Where are you going?" Hoffa asked.

"None of your business," the girl replied.

Hoffa frowned, annoyed. "Hey, kids should listen to adults. Don't wander off!"

"You're not much older than us," the girl retorted, sticking out her tongue before her expression turned serious. "Remember, big brother, everyone's fate lies in your silence."

With that, she pushed Hoffa lightly and pulled the boy down a dark staircase. Their footsteps echoed briefly before they disappeared into the labyrinthine depths of the battleship.

"Hey!"

Hoffa leaned over the staircase, unsure whether to chase them or not.

Before he could decide, a voice called out from the room at the top of the blockhouse.

"Can anyone hear me? Can anyone hear me?"

It was Chloe's voice. Hoffa quickly pushed the children's strange behavior from his mind and rushed into the room where Chloe had been drained of blood.

The room was just as he remembered it, minus the peculiar, hazy smoke that had once filled it. Everything was now clear: the countless ticking dials, the bizarre blood-draining machinery, the cold and menacing steel chair, and the pale nun sitting upon it.

Mans, however, was nowhere to be seen.

The stone in his heart finally fell to the ground. He quickly approached and broke all the devices restraining Chloe in a matter of moments. She collapsed weakly, her arms draping over Hoffa's neck, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a voice so faint it was almost inaudible, yet her first concern was still for others.

"I'm fine," Hoffa replied, feeling a pang of sorrow. It seemed as though he had forgotten something he did not wish to forget. He gently patted Chloe's back. "Hang in there. I'll get you out of here."

"Mance has left. We have to stop him," Chloe said, her breathing uneven. "He... he took my blood. It will completely disrupt the order of this timeline."

"Does it have to be now?" Hoffa asked as he pushed Chloe off his shoulder, concern evident in his eyes. Her face was devoid of color, her lips pale as snow.

"It has to be now. We only have one chance. If we wait until daylight..." She looked into Hoffa's eyes, her lips tightly pressed together, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"Chloe?"

"Chloe."

He called her name twice, but she didn't respond. Instead, she stared at him with wide eyes filled with an indecipherable mix of emotions—pleading, a hint of suggestion, and an overwhelming fear.

Hoffa glanced around. The area was deserted, yet an icy chill gripped his heart. He had felt this piercing sensation once before when surrounded by the four Mances simultaneously—a sense of being utterly exposed and scrutinized, as though no action or thought could escape judgment, leaving no room for privacy.

At that moment, a peculiar Ravenclaw intuition surfaced in his mind. It reminded him of standing before the dark, towering Ravenclaw common room door back at Hogwarts.

Before entering the common room, the eagle knocker would always pose a riddle. Only by solving the riddle could one gain access. Here, too, lay a hidden riddle, though the one posing it was unknown.

"All lives rest within my silence."

He thought of the strange little boy and girl, then looked at Chloe's odd expression. Hoffa closed his eyes, trying to piece it together. What were they all hinting at?

"Where are the other children?" he asked casually a few seconds later, opening his eyes.

"They're locked up," Chloe replied. "Once I've regained some strength and can walk, I'll set them free."

"I see," he nodded. "That makes sense. I was thinking the same, but I was worried about your health holding up."

"I'm fine," Chloe replied stubbornly.

"I know."

Hoffa attempted to help her stand, but her legs buckled, and she collapsed against his shoulder. She couldn't walk at all. With no other choice, he lifted her onto his back, supporting her legs as he carried her.

Despite Chloe's frail state—she weighed no more than eighty pounds—Hoffa felt as though he was carrying a mountain. Every step felt unbearably heavy, as though he was walking a tightrope suspended over a vast abyss, where one misstep would lead to complete ruin.

Finally, as he reached the doorway, the unseen pressure had him gasping for air. He turned to look at Chloe. She gazed back at him, lips pressed tightly together, silent.

"All lives rest within my silence."

He thought of Mance's silent departure, the released little girl, and her outstretched hand.

"Wait a moment," Hoffa said slowly.

On his back, Chloe's voice trembled slightly. "What's wrong?"

Hoffa didn't answer. He stared at the two staircases before him. The left staircase was the one the little boy and girl had led him up earlier. Its indicator lights glowed green and intact.

The other staircase was the one the two children had taken when they left. Its indicator lights were shattered, leaving it pitch dark and ominous.

"Which way do you want to go?" he asked Chloe gently.

Without hesitation, Chloe pointed to the left.

Hoffa let out a soft sigh, biting his lip with a wry smile. "This is truly difficult."

With that, he descended the left staircase, its green lights flickering. As he left the area, he tossed away the black mistletoe he had taken after killing Tom Riddle, discarding it as though it were worthless trash.

(End of Chapter)

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