Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The faucet dripped steadily, water droplets echoing faintly as harsh sunlight poured through the high skylight, forming small circular patches on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

Hoffa stood in the shadows where the sunlight couldn't reach. As he recognized the person who had burst clumsily into the bathroom, he let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Mans, but Ryan.

This boy—he actually survived falling into the sea.

"Ryan?"

Gilia's eyes lit up instantly. She rushed forward, grabbing his hand with reddened eyes, both happy and accusing. "Where have you been?"

"I fell into the sea," Ryan replied matter-of-factly.

Then, without warning, he hugged the vampire tightly. After a few seconds, he hastily pushed her away and turned anxiously to Hoffa. "We need to leave now! Riddle—Riddle wants to kill me!"

"And who is it I'm supposed to be killing?"

A cold, sinister voice drifted in from outside the door.

Hoffa turned his head. Standing in the doorway was a tall, gaunt figure—Tom Riddle. He leaned against the doorframe, looking far more disheveled than when Hoffa had last seen him. His usually neat black hair was now a messy tangle, resembling a bird's nest. His elegant Muggle suit was riddled with scorch marks, the fabric charred and torn. Most striking was his left arm, bent into a grotesque "Z" shape below the elbow, the exposed skin slick with blood and sweat. Yet, his eyes still burned with an intense, inscrutable fervor.

"Well, well, everyone's here," Tom drawled.

He placed his only functional arm behind his back and stepped into the bathroom, closing the metal door with his foot. Despite his every movement seeming casual, Hoffa caught a flash of green in his hand.

Mistletoe.

"Why were you running so fast, Ryan?" Tom asked, advancing toward the trio step by step.

Ryan supported the vampire as he backed up to stand next to Hoffa, huddling close like a chick hiding from a storm.

"Tom..."

Hoffa braced himself against the sink behind him, pushing himself upright. Though waves of exhaustion threatened to drown him, he refused to show weakness in front of this old orphanage acquaintance.

"I saw that Muggle you mentioned," Tom said, raising his mangled arm. "He nearly killed me."

"See? I wasn't lying, was I?" Hoffa said.

"Yes, and I appreciate your honesty." Tom leaned against the white tiled wall as he moved closer. "But my wand arm is broken now. I'm afraid I can't help you much anymore."

"That's fine," Hoffa replied, pointing to the skylight above. "You can Apparate out of here and head to the Cloud Base for treatment. Slughorn will heal you quickly."

"Do you think I'm the type to flee in the face of danger, Bach? You underestimate me," Tom said slowly, closing the gap between himself and the others. The air in the bathroom grew heavy with a dangerous tension.

Hoffa's hand groped blindly behind him, searching for a weapon. His fingers found a faucet knob, and he tried to twist it loose, but his current strength was too weak. Worse, his magic seemed sluggish, like a clogged pipe, recovering at an agonizingly slow pace.

"D-Don't come any closer!" Ryan stammered, raising his wand and pointing it shakily at Tom.

"Is this how a Hufflepuff treats their savior?" Tom sneered, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Hoffa, ignoring Ryan entirely.

"You didn't save me!" Ryan shouted. "To you, I'm just like toilet paper—used and thrown away!"

Tom let out a cold laugh. "Really? Then tell me, who untied your ropes when you fell into the sea? Who raised the shield against the Muggles' gunfire?"

"It—it was you," Ryan admitted, his wand faltering before he raised it again. "But you want to kill me to turn the mistletoe black!"

Tom shook his head disdainfully and stretched his mangled hand toward Hoffa with a pitiful smile. "Bach, can you help me treat my arm? You've been outside for so long; you must know some emergency methods."

"I can," Hoffa said, abandoning his futile attempt to detach the faucet. He grabbed Tom's broken arm and, with a firm pull, straightened the grotesque "Z" shape.

Tom didn't flinch, despite the unimaginable pain. As Hoffa bandaged his arm, Tom leaned in close and whispered, "Bach, kill him. Kill the woman too. It's the only way we'll survive."

His breath, icy and devoid of warmth, brushed against Hoffa's temple. Hoffa continued wrapping the bandage in silence.

"There's no other way," Tom whispered again. "Physical injuries mean nothing to that Muggle. We have to destroy his soul."

While Tom murmured in Hoffa's ear, Ryan and the vampire exchanged frightened glances and began inching backward. Hoffa finished the bandage, looked Tom in the eye, and shook his head. "I can't do it."

"Then what's your plan?" Tom asked evenly.

"I'll stay here and buy time. You two go and get help."

"That's not a bad idea," Tom mused, stroking his chin. "Alright, let's do it your way."

Without warning, he drew the mistletoe and stabbed it toward Hoffa's stomach.

Hoffa, however, was ready. He caught Tom's wrist just inches before the mistletoe pierced his abdomen and gritted his teeth. "So, this is how you repay me?"

"You haven't changed a bit," Tom sneered. "Still the same weakling from the orphanage."

"And you're just as treacherous," Hoffa retorted.

He yanked at the freshly tied bandage, unraveling it in an instant. The mistletoe slipped from Tom's hand and fell into Hoffa's grasp.

Gripping the mistletoe tightly, Hoffa jumped back.

Tom, unfazed, pointed his single hand at Hoffa's arm. The black magical mark seared with an unbearable heat, the pain radiating deep into Hoffa's bones.

"Don't just stand there!" Hoffa shouted at Ryan and the vampire. "Help me if you want to live!"

The two hesitated briefly before launching themselves at Tom.

Tom let out a derisive laugh. "Fools!" He raised his wand.

Yet in that moment, his expression shifted from malevolent to sheer terror. His gaze locked onto something behind Hoffa.

"How did you get in here!?" Tom demanded, voice trembling.

Hoffa's heart plummeted. Mans!?

He spun around, only to find no one there—just his reflection in the bathroom mirror, along with Ryan and the vampire's frightened faces.

Tom's deceitful smirk told Hoffa he'd been tricked.

Tom surged forward like a striking snake. He slammed Ryan's head against the wall with a sickening crack, leaving Ryan crumpled and bleeding on the floor. Before the vampire could react, Tom grabbed her by the throat, cutting off any sound. Her face turned from pale to blue as she struggled.

Control of the bathroom once again belonged to Tom Riddle.

"Hand over the mistletoe!" Tom snarled, his wand pressed against the vampire's neck.

Hoffa's grip on the green branch tightened. "The real enemy is out there, and you're killing your teammates?"

"I don't need teammates. Especially weak ones like you!" Tom sneered. He jerked the vampire closer, forcing her head back. "If you want the black mistletoe, kill her yourself!"

Hoffa's knuckles whitened around the mistletoe.

"Or do you want me to do it?" Tom taunted, his voice mockingly soft.

"Enough, Tom," Hoffa said coldly. "Actually, I have a way where no one has to die."

Tom's confidence wavered momentarily. "Nonsense. To defeat an inhuman force, you must use inhuman power. The mistletoe must absorb a soul to turn black. We have no other choice."

"True," Hoffa admitted. "But did you know there's someone whose soul can be destroyed without dying?"

Realization dawned on Tom's face, draining it of color. He knew what Hoffa was implying.

"You bastard!" Tom roared, shoving the vampire aside and raising his wand toward Hoffa.

Hoffa was ready. As Tom lunged, Hoffa sidestepped, drawing a second mistletoe branch he had hidden earlier.

The fight was fierce, but Hoffa's cunning prevailed. The mistletoe pierced Tom, absorbing his blood and transforming into a deadly black branch.

Tom collapsed, his final words a chilling promise: "You'll regret this."

Hoffa, weary but resolute, turned to Ryan. "From now on, you must leave Hogwarts. If Riddle survives, he will come for you."

Ryan stared, horrified. "You killed Riddle?"

But the truth was more sinister. As Tom's body vanished, Hoffa realized their battle was far from over.

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