Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Night had fallen, and the torches were once again ablaze. Soldiers in the camp indulged in revelry, singing and feasting like there was no tomorrow. Bonfires were lit everywhere, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and roasting meat. Laughter echoed crudely throughout the crowd.

In an unremarkable tent tucked in a corner of the camp, Fatir hurriedly packed various instruments into a leather suitcase. The suitcase had been enchanted with an undetectable extension charm, allowing it to hold an endless amount of items.

While Fatir was busy with his preparations, Gellert stood outside the tent, leaning against a post. His face was expressionless as he gazed at the dusky violet sky. The African heavens were as clear as glass, scattered with silver stars that shimmered beautifully.

Jacob, with nothing better to do, lit a cigarette and sauntered over to Gellert. "Hey, what are you thinking about?" he asked.

Without looking at him, Gellert replied indifferently, "Those soldiers—they're singing."

Jacob glanced at the drunken, singing soldiers in the distance. "Probably had too much to drink."

"Perhaps," Gellert said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "But they seem content."

Jacob looked puzzled and shook his head. "They've got booze, women, maybe a wife and kids waiting at home. What about you, Grindelwald? What do you have?"

"I have ideals."

Gellert's gaze locked onto Jacob.

"When I find Dragonstone Island, my ideals will elevate life to heights these fools could never imagine."

Jacob's hand paused mid-motion, cigarette held loosely between his fingers. After a brief hesitation, he flicked the cigarette away, visibly annoyed but saying nothing.

At that moment, Fatir finally finished packing. Carrying the suitcase, he walked over to Gellert.

"I like the way you think," Fatir said with a smile. "I hope you always stay optimistic."

Gellert smiled faintly but didn't respond. With a flick of his wand, the two of them vanished into thin air.

After they left, Jacob spat on the ground and muttered under his breath, "Arrogant fool." Then he pulled out his wand and tapped it against his arm.

"Disillusionment."

His figure shimmered for a moment before blending seamlessly into the background, disappearing from sight.

The three of them ascended Kilimanjaro's trails under the cloak of invisibility. When they reached a secluded waterfall at an elevation of about 500 meters, they stopped and revealed themselves.

Jacob turned to Fatir. "It's your turn now."

Fatir nodded. Opening his suitcase, he pulled out several crystals and jars of magical materials. He quickly arranged them on the ground, and before long, a simple teleportation array had been set up on the rocks.

"Will those natives notice?" Jacob asked warily.

"Move quickly. Grab what we need and Disapparate immediately—they won't notice a thing," Fatir assured him before glancing at Gellert. "Gellert, is the marker ready?"

Gellert nodded in confirmation.

The three of them stood in a circle, holding hands. Gellert bit his finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the teleportation array. The array ignited with a crimson flame, and the three vanished in an instant.

They reappeared at the location where Gellert had marked earlier in the day.

"Here," Gellert said, pointing at a mark beneath the icy surface.

Fatir crouched down, his trembling hand tracing the circular triangle symbol. He murmured in awe, "The Deathly Hallows, the mark of Death itself. Truly the legacy of the greatest dragon tamer."

"Can you open it?" Jacob asked.

"I'll try."

Fatir opened the suitcase again and pulled out a jar of sparkling blue powder. Dipping his fingers in the powder, he pressed it against the stone wall and began drawing intricate patterns. The blue powder disappeared instantly, as if absorbed by a sponge.

Moments later, Fatir stood up and waved his wand. The entire stone wall rippled like water. A bright blue flame traced its surface, forming a circle that enclosed a triangle with a vertical line in its center.

On the highest peak of Africa, the mark of the Deathly Hallows burned vividly.

Fatir's face flushed with exhilaration as he waved his wand with grand gestures, resembling a conductor leading an orchestra to its climax. With a final, decisive motion, the entire stone wall was consumed by the flames, revealing a radiant blue archway. The rock bearing the Hallows symbol disappeared, leaving behind an entrance into an abyss of darkness.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Fatir hadn't even spoken when Jacob impatiently shoved past him and entered the mountain cave.

The cave appeared pitch-black but wasn't very deep. Before long, the three found themselves at the end of an ancient, crumbling tunnel. The oppressive darkness was so dense it felt like it connected to an abyss.

They stopped, shivering as the freezing air engulfed them. It was unbearably cold, as though they had entered an enormous freezer.

Gellert attempted to light his wand, but when he cast Lumos, he realized his magical energy flowed sluggishly, like tar through old pipes.

Jacob seemed to encounter the same issue. He touched the wall and exhaled a puff of white vapor. "An anti-magic field," he stammered. "Looks like no magic works here."

At this moment, Fatir took out a few small pieces of metal from his box and methodically assembled them. He pressed his hand against the metal pieces and chanted an incantation with rhythmic precision:

"Follow my shadow, reveal what I seek."

As soon as the peculiar incantation ended, the metal pieces ignited, forming a dazzling beastly figure in the air, shimmering with a blue hue.

The beastly figure stood nearly ten meters tall, with three heads at its peak. Its eyes emitted piercing blue beams that sliced through the darkness and illuminated the walls, each head gazing in a different direction.

The heads aligned with the gaze of Gallet, Fatir, and Jacob, matching the directions they were facing.

When Gallet shifted his gaze, the beast's corresponding head moved as well, focusing on wherever his eyes landed.

"Fascinating," Gallet muttered.

Jacob, meanwhile, jerked his head around wildly like someone suffering from a seizure. The beast's head above him mimicked his erratic movements.

"Is this thing imitating me?" he asked, amused.

"Hurry up. This is psychic illumination; it won't last long," Fatir urged.

Under the bluish light, the three began scrutinizing their surroundings. What lay before them was a bizarre sight: a circular chamber spanning hundreds of square meters, with the thick ice layer of Mount Kilimanjaro forming its ceiling.

The ground resembled an altar, perfectly round and embedded with countless fossilized dragon bones. The uneven surface felt as though the dragons had been encased in cement while still alive.

Connecting the ceiling and floor were stone pillars as thick as human thighs. The pillars were thick at the top, thinner in the middle, and broken at about shoulder height. Suspended within each pillar was a dragon egg.

The eggs varied in color and pattern—black, blue, green, speckled, striped, leopard-patterned, and even translucent.

Fatir examined the eggs one by one, and after inspecting an entire row, he murmured under his breath, "My god, could it be that these ancient, extinct dragon eggs have been preserved?"

Jacob's eyes lit up with greed as he stared at the eggs, resembling a miser who had stumbled upon a treasure trove of gold. Ignoring the cold, he lunged toward a black egg, reaching out to grab it.

However, a freezing mist enveloping the egg immediately gave him frostbite. Jacob yelped and withdrew his hand. Fatir smacked him angrily.

"Are you mad? This is ancient cryomagic! Do you want to lose your fingers?"

Sucking on his injured hand, Jacob muttered something under his breath but refrained from being reckless again.

Gallet observed silently, his expression cold. To be honest, while the sight of these eggs initially surprised him, he felt no particular excitement. Fatir's enthusiasm stemmed from his lineage as a dragon-taming traditionalist, while Jacob's interest was likely fueled by fantasies of selling the eggs for mountains of gold coins on the black market.

For Gallet, however, these dragon eggs were mere objects—tools that might expedite his ambitions but had little to do with his personal growth or ideals.

Fatir carefully opened his box and retrieved a desiccated hand. When he pressed it lightly, the hand glowed silver. Gently, he inserted the hand into the gap in a pillar. The skeletal hand clenched the dragon egg tightly, extracting it from the pillar.

Afterward, Fatir fed a gold coin into a mouth that suddenly appeared on the hand. The hand made a satisfied gulping sound and loosened its grip slightly.

It took ten gold coins before the skeletal hand finally released the egg entirely.

"A Glorious Hand, huh? So this is where your money goes," Jacob muttered as he clutched the box of eggs.

"Quiet," Fatir snapped, carefully placing the egg into the box. He then moved to the next pillar and repeated the process. Each time, the Glorious Hand extracted a dragon egg from the icy confinement, consuming an increasing number of gold coins with every retrieval.

As Fatir busied himself, Gallet wandered idly around the chamber. Eventually, he found himself at the center of the large storage vault.

Amid the faint glow, he spotted a solitary dragon egg atop a central pillar. Unlike the others, this egg shimmered with a subtle iridescence, its colorful glow captivating.

Though he wasn't particularly interested in the eggs, this one piqued his curiosity. What truly caught his attention was a line of carved text on the pillar beneath it. The cryptic script resembled scribbled symbols he couldn't decipher.

"Fatir?" he called softly.

Hearing him, Fatir paused his work and approached with Jacob in tow. "What is it?"

"What does this say?" Gallet asked, pointing to the engraving. For some reason, he felt drawn to the enigmatic words.

Fatir tilted his head, studying the text for a moment.

"Arabic. It says, 'The void devours all.'"

"What does that mean?" Jacob asked, puzzled.

"I'm not entirely sure," Fatir admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before shrugging. Without much concern, he used the Glorious Hand to retrieve the iridescent egg, showing little interest in its unique glow.

Gallet, however, remained frozen, staring at the inscription. Something about those words struck a chord deep within him, leaving him short of breath.

For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt he understood the dreadful energy contained within that simple phrase.

It wasn't until Fatir gave him a firm shove that he snapped out of his daze. Fatir waved a hand in front of his face.

"What are you daydreaming about? Let's go."

Gallet looked around and realized the other two had finished collecting all the treasures in the chamber.

Jacob was grinning with smug satisfaction, carrying a box full of eggs, already fantasizing about the wealth he would amass.

Gallet nodded and cast one last glance at the inscription before heading toward the exit.

When they reached the entrance, Fatir prepared to dismantle the magical illumination device, but as he raised his head, he let out an odd exclamation.

"Huh?"

Gallet frowned. "What's wrong?"

Fatir pointed upward, puzzled. "This doesn't make sense. There were only three of us, so why does the psychic illumination show a fourth head?"

Gallet looked up and froze. The dim, three-headed magical creature had somehow grown a fourth head.

Sensing imminent danger, Gallet's nerves tensed, but before he could react, a figure emerged silently from the darkness, pressing a blade against Fatir's throat.

"Don't move," the stranger commanded coldly. "Move, and he dies."

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