Harry Potter: I am the Legend

By June, after months of rehabilitative training, Hoffa's body had almost fully recovered. His bones were strong, and he could run, jump, and even grew two centimeters taller. In fact, he seemed to be in better shape than before.

Neither the school nor the Ministry of Magic gave him much recognition, and news of the Centaur King had been suppressed through the joint efforts of the Ministry and Hogwarts.

In a time of war, news stories were endless, and with people's inherently short memories, the world had almost forgotten the Centaur King after a few months.

(Except for the students inside Hogwarts.)

But after over a year of adventures, Hoffa had come to care little for such matters.

The school's reconstruction was still ongoing. Every day, wizards brought stones from Hogsmeade and other locations. The rebuilding would likely continue through the summer holidays until the school was fully restored.

Hoffa, however, had concluded his second year and, like his friends, was ready to begin his summer vacation.

The sun shone brightly on this day as students packed up their belongings from the ruins and gathered in front of the Great Hall. Led by Dumbledore, they made their way to the station where the Hogwarts Express awaited.

The station lay between the Black Lake and the school. In recent months, the area had been planted with lush vegetation and trees, with cobblestone paths weaving through the shade. It was a pleasant walk, though less convenient for rolling heavy trunks.

Most students solved the problem with magic. Younger students used Levitation Charms, while older ones employed Extension Charms to fit their belongings into small bags.

Hoffa, however, wasn't as fortunate this year. Without his wand, which Sylby had taken, he was like a near-squib, unable to cast most spells. He could manage minor Transfiguration, but charms like Levitation and Disillusionment were beyond him.

The only spell he could still cast was a Shield Charm.

Hoffa missed his wand terribly.

But misfortune had become a constant companion in his life. If he weren't facing challenges, he'd feel something was amiss.

For now, he chose to live in the moment. Let future Hoffa deal with future problems.

Under the dappled shade of the trees, Hoffa walked to the station with two friends, laughing and chatting as they prepared to board the train back to London.

Aglaia, dressed in a light blue shirt and knee-length denim shorts, held a mango smoothie she'd somehow acquired and sipped as she spoke:

"I have an idea. Hoffa, why don't you come to St. Mungo's during the summer? My mother works there, and if you can—well, if you're capable—I might just be kind enough to recommend you for a job."

"Why would I go to St. Mungo's?" Hoffa asked.

"To work, of course. Since you're already job hunting, you might as well help out at my place," she said matter-of-factly.

Miranda chimed in, "Such a capitalist, recruiting child labor at your age."

"Absolutely not! They're internships—internships! Don't you know anything?" Aglaia retorted indignantly. "So, Hoffa, are you coming or not?"

"Let me think about it."

"Think fast! Once we reach London, the offer's off the table."

Aglaia slurped her smoothie noisily and added, "Miranda, you should come too. What do you say?"

"No thanks. I don't like hospitals," Miranda replied curtly.

"Tsk."

Aglaia pouted and fell silent.

While the girls chatted, Hoffa fell into contemplation.

Working at St. Mungo's didn't sound bad, but he knew nothing about magical medicine. Without a wand, would it even be worth it? Still, St. Mungo's might be an entirely new magical world to explore.

As Hoffa pondered, Miranda suddenly nudged him.

"Look."

He glanced up and spotted a familiar, slender figure standing in the sunlight near the station. It was Osivia, whom he hadn't seen in months.

She had spent the latter half of the term away from school, tirelessly fundraising and assisting with Hogwarts' restoration. He hadn't expected to see her here.

Standing in the sunlight, she wore a deep green robe and high black boots, just as she had the first time they met at Thames Port. The only difference was her hair, now loosely tied to one side and swaying gently in the breeze.

Noticing Hoffa, Osivia's emerald eyes squinted warmly as a gentle smile spread across her face.

Hoffa hesitated briefly. Before leaving, he had searched her office but found it abandoned, assuming she was already gone.

"You two go wait for me on the train," he whispered to his friends.

They exchanged glances, casting knowing looks at Osivia and Hoffa before quietly slipping away.

Behind Osivia, an elderly Auror with white hair and a heavy trunk waved at Hoffa with a smile before Disapparating.

Hoffa approached Osivia and greeted her with a small smile.

"Professor."

"No need to call me that," she said, smiling. "I never saw you as a student to begin with."

"I can't do that. Once a teacher, always..." Hoffa began, but trailed off, chuckling awkwardly.

Osivia rolled her eyes. "It's been a while since I last saw you. How's your recovery?"

"Pretty good! Eating well, running ten kilometers a day without breaking a sweat," Hoffa replied.

She stepped closer and, with a touch of nostalgia, placed a cool hand on his head. A faint floral scent wafted over him. "Your hair has changed."

"Don't remind me," Hoffa sighed. "Oh, by the way, there's something I wanted to tell you."

"What is it?"

Clearing his throat, Hoffa said, "The Minister of Magic approached me. I'm really sorry I couldn't reveal the truth about the Centaur King."

"Hoffa," Osivia interrupted softly, "that doesn't matter anymore. Life rarely goes perfectly. Sharing a year of adventures with you has been a joy."

"Same here," Hoffa said, meeting her bright green eyes. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes." Osivia's smile bloomed like a rose.

"My task here is done. I'm returning to the Soviet Union. My country needs me now more than ever, and my father has much work that requires my help."

"What about our Transfiguration teacher?" Hoffa asked, exasperated.

"Who knows?" Osivia shrugged. "My father always said that life is about comings and goings."

Hearing her mention her father, Hoffa suddenly remembered something.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an old keepsake and handed it to her.

"I found this in your office a while ago. I thought I should return it."

"Ah, this," Osivia said, smiling as she accepted the year-old newspaper. Shaking her head, she conjured a flame in her palm and set the paper alight.

As the ashes floated away, she murmured, "My life holds far more meaningful goals than revenge."

Watching the crimson embers dance in the sunlight, Hoffa stood before the Slytherin alumna, his heart filled with unspoken emotions.

By June, after months of rehabilitation, Hoffa's body had nearly recovered. His bones were stronger, and he could run, jump, and even grew two centimeters taller, seemingly in better shape than ever before.

The school and the Ministry of Magic hadn't rewarded him much, and news about the Half-Blood King had been suppressed thanks to their combined efforts. In the chaos of wartime, the news cycle was relentless, and as people are naturally forgetful, mentions of the Half-Blood King had largely faded after a few months, except among Hogwarts students.

But for Hoffa, after over a year of adventures, he no longer dwelled on such matters.

The reconstruction of the school was still ongoing. Every day, wizards transported stones from Hogsmeade or other locations, and it was expected that the work would continue over the summer until Hogwarts was fully restored.

Hoffa had finished his second year, and like his friends, he was preparing to embark on his summer holiday.

The sun was shining brightly that day as students gathered with their belongings in front of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Led by Dumbledore, they made their way to the train station to board the Hogwarts Express.

The station, nestled between the Black Lake and the school, had been surrounded in recent months by lush vegetation and trees. Shaded cobblestone paths wound through the greenery, making for a pleasant walk—though not as convenient for rolling heavy trunks.

Most students solved this inconvenience with magic. Younger ones used levitation charms, while older students employed the Undetectable Extension Charm to fit their belongings into small bags.

But this year, Hoffa couldn't act as a porter for two girls as he had last year. Without his wand, which Sylby had taken, he was effectively like a Squib. Most of his magical abilities were useless—he could barely manage basic transformations, let alone spells like levitation or apparition. The only spell he could still use reliably was a shield charm.

Hoffa missed his wand dearly.

Still, by now, he had grown accustomed to setbacks. He even felt that a smooth life might seem unnatural to him. For now, though, he chose to live in the moment, leaving future problems to his future self.

Under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, Hoffa walked toward the station with two friends, chatting and laughing as they prepared to board the train to London.

Aglaia, wearing a light blue shirt and knee-length denim shorts, sipped on a mango smoothie she'd somehow obtained. "I have an idea," she said. "Hoffa, you should come to St. Mungo's Hospital during the summer. My mother works there, and if you want—well, I mean, if you're up to it—I can introduce you to a job there."

"Why would I go to St. Mungo's?" Hoffa asked.

"To work, obviously! You'll be job-hunting anyway, so why not work for my family?" she replied in an assertive tone.

Miranda chimed in, "Exploiting child labor already? What a capitalist."

"It's not child labor—it's an internship! Internships, okay? Hospitals and the Ministry hire interns all the time," Aglaia retorted. "So, Hoffa, are you coming or not?"

"Let me think about it," Hoffa replied.

"Think fast—once we get to London, the offer's off the table," she warned, noisily slurping her smoothie. "Miranda, why don't you come too?"

"No way. I hate hospitals," Miranda said flatly.

"Tsk." Aglaia rolled her eyes.

While the two girls chatted, Hoffa fell into thought.

Working at St. Mungo's didn't sound entirely unappealing. But with no knowledge of wizarding medicine and no wand, was it really a good idea? Still, the hospital could be an entirely new magical world to explore.

Just as he was pondering, Miranda nudged him. "Look."

Hoffa glanced up and saw a familiar, slender figure standing in the sunlight by the station. It was none other than Osivia, whom he hadn't seen for some time.

For the latter half of the term, she had been away, tirelessly fundraising and helping with Hogwarts' restoration. Hoffa had assumed she'd already left, as her office was abandoned when he last checked.

"You two go wait on the train," Hoffa quietly told his friends.

The girls exchanged glances, then giggled and whispered to each other as they walked away.

Osivia stood in the station's sunlight, wearing a deep green robe and tall black boots—an outfit identical to the one she'd worn when they first met at the Thames Dock. The only difference was her hair, which wasn't tightly coiled into a bun but loosely pinned to one side, swaying gently in the breeze.

When she saw Hoffa approaching, she squinted her green eyes and smiled warmly.

For a moment, Hoffa was taken aback. Then he smiled back and walked over.

"Professor," he greeted.

"You don't have to call me that," Osivia said with a chuckle. "I never really saw you as a student."

"Oh, come on," Hoffa replied awkwardly, trying to make a joke but losing steam halfway.

Osivia smirked. "It's been a while. How's your recovery?"

"Great," Hoffa said. "I'm eating well and running ten kilometers a day without breaking a sweat."

She stepped closer, placing a cool hand on his head as she sighed softly. "But your hair's changed."

"Don't remind me," Hoffa muttered. Then he added, "Oh, there's something I wanted to say."

"What is it?"

Clearing his throat, Hoffa said, "The Minister of Magic approached me. I'm sorry I couldn't reveal the truth about the Half-Blood King—"

"Hoffa," Osivia interrupted gently, "none of that matters anymore. Life doesn't always go as planned. I'm just grateful for the adventures we shared this past year."

"Me too." Hoffa looked into her vibrant green eyes and felt a sense of foreboding. "You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes," Osivia said, smiling like a blooming rose. "My mission here is complete. I'm returning to the Soviet Union. My country needs me now more than ever, and my father has a lot of work left for me to assist with."

"What about our Transfiguration teacher?" Hoffa asked, frowning.

"Who knows?" Osivia shrugged. "But my father always says that life is a series of comings and goings."

At the mention of her father, Hoffa remembered something. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an old item and handed it to her.

"I found this in your office a while back. I thought I'd return it to you."

"Oh, that," Osivia said, glancing at the old newspaper. Smiling, she accepted it, then conjured a small flame in her palm and let the paper burn to ashes.

Softly, she said, "My life has far more meaningful goals than revenge."

As the red embers scattered in the sunlight, Hoffa stood before his Slytherin senior, feeling a wave of bittersweet emotion.

(To Be Continued...)

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