Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The surrounding air instantly solidified, wrapping tightly around him before thrusting him forward. Time and motion slowed dramatically. His eyes widened in terror as he saw the man slam directly into his chest. There was nothing to cushion the impact. His ribs creaked under the force, as if struck by a massive hammer.

He groaned, but the man pressing down on him gave him no chance to evade. With relentless force, he was pushed forward, crashing into the hedge wall of the labyrinth. Branches tore into his skin, and his entire body felt as though it was being ripped apart. Agonizing pain surged through him, making him feel like he had been thrown into a meat grinder.

Seconds later, the two of them burst through the hedge.

With trembling fingers, Hoffa touched the wound on his chest. When he lifted his hand and saw the fresh blood dripping from his fingertips, his golden eyes filled with disbelief.

"Miller...?"

Struggling amidst the dense vines and branches, Hoffa, now wedged against the labyrinth wall, stared at the man pressing down on him and cried out in shock.

Though the man bore the same appearance as Alastor Moody, the sheer force of his attack and his aerial combat skills were far beyond what Moody was capable of. There was no doubt—this was Miller, the one who had previously protected him and helped him escape.

But now, Miller's single eye was almost entirely engulfed by white, his pupil reduced to a tiny speck. The skin around his eye was charred black, giving him a terrifyingly vicious look.

"Miller, what did Grindelwald do to you?"

Seeing him in such a state, Hoffa's heart clenched with worry.

Miller did not respond. Without hesitation, he lifted Hoffa into the air, his arm wreathed in flames. In an instant, the fire spread across Hoffa's entire body, its searing heat consuming him.

Seeing his old friend looking like a rabid beast, Hoffa dared not be careless. He immediately entered his Phantom Walk, vanishing from Miller's grasp.

Miller clutched at empty air. Retracting the blazing flames, he reshaped them into a firebird that circled his arm. At the same time, his other arm conjured dozens of ice shards, spinning around him like a deadly cyclone.

Coldly and cautiously, he began counting down:

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

Ten seconds passed.

Hoffa reappeared, standing at a distance, watching Miller intently. He shouted, "Wake up! It's me! Look closely—I'm your friend!"

"You have no friends," Miller's voice was like ice.

He could still talk.

Hoffa crossed his arms, his heart sinking. Miller had once been a fragment of Grindelwald's consciousness, subtly influenced over years inside Miranda. He had changed significantly—but no one knew what had transpired when he met Grindelwald again. If he had truly succumbed to darkness and wanted to kill Hoffa, there was no way Hoffa could match him in his current state.

"You abandoned your friends with your own hands."

Miller raised a single finger.

The ice shards in his hand instantly expanded into a raging blizzard, engulfing Hoffa. The howling wind nearly knocked him off his feet, and the razor-sharp ice shards threatened to tear him apart. His blood misted into the storm, staining the snow red.

Within the storm, Hoffa pressed his palms together.

Boom!

The ground beneath him erupted, forming a series of towering stone cages that enclosed Miller. Then, clenching his fists, Hoffa transformed the stone into solid steel, trapping Miller inside an impenetrable metal cube.

Yet, within seconds, the cube glowed red-hot.

Boom!

With a deafening explosion, the cube melted into molten iron. Miller strode out of the molten remains, extending his hand. The blizzard behind Hoffa transformed into a colossal ice giant, which immediately seized him.

"You think you can trap me the same way you did my sister, Bach? That old trick stopped working fifty years ago."

As he spoke, blue flames ignited on the ice giant's body. The fire seeped into Hoffa's bones, threatening to incinerate him completely.

"Miranda?!"

Despite being engulfed in flames, Hoffa suddenly looked past Miller with an expression of sheer joy. "What are you doing here?"

Miller's fierce expression faltered for a moment, and he instinctively turned to look.

In that split second of distraction, Hoffa kicked at the ice giant's fingers, breaking free from its grasp. He swiftly put distance between himself and Miller, vanishing into Phantom Walk.

Realizing he had been deceived, Miller turned back, raising a hand with a crisp snap of his fingers. The ice giant and firebird vanished, replaced by a thick, spreading gray fog that expanded around him.

Hoffa sprinted away at full speed, desperate to escape the encroaching mist. He dared not touch it—his years of magical experience warned him that it was undoubtedly Miller's detection spell. If he made contact, he would be as helpless as a fly caught in a spider's web.

But having been dosed with a blood-weakening potion, his speed was far from optimal. To make matters worse, the labyrinth's pathways were bizarre and deceptive. He could be running forward, only to find himself backtracking after a few turns.

The immense maze not only confused Miller but also disoriented Hoffa. Before long, the thick fog was closing in behind him.

Ten minutes later, he was perilously close to the mist.

Seeing that he was about to be overtaken, his situation grew desperate.

Suddenly—

A force yanked his arm, holding him in place.

He looked down and saw a massive lion's paw emerging from the labyrinth wall, gripping his arm tightly.

What?

Before he could process what was happening—

Slash!

The sharp claws pulled him forcefully toward the hedge. The plants forming the labyrinth parted, dragging him inside.

Just as he disappeared into the foliage, the thick fog swept over the spot where he had stood moments before.

Dense, sharp branches and vines scraped against his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shielding them from being gouged out.

Slash!

His entrance was as sudden as his exit—he was pulled straight through the hedges.

Pah! Pah!

Spitting out leaves and twigs from his mouth, Hoffa confirmed that no stray branches would blind him before opening his eyes.

He had emerged into a circular clearing within the labyrinth. Unlike the square layout of the rest of the maze, this space was round, and moonlight streamed down from above, making it feel strangely open.

Even stranger, in the center of the clearing sat a peculiar creature.

It had the massive body of a lion, but with the head of a woman. A tall nose and almond-shaped eyes gave her an exotic beauty—at least, by human standards.

But that was only her upper half.

Her lower half was entirely leonine, complete with enormous, gleaming claws that shone ominously in the moonlight. A long, yellow tail swayed behind her, ending in a tuft of fur.

A Sphinx.

Hoffa recognized the creature. In the original story, Harry had encountered one as well and was made to answer a riddle. But he never expected to be saved by one.

What did it want? To ask him a riddle?

"Oh, hi there."

The Sphinx lay on the ground like a resting lioness, speaking in an airy, enigmatic voice. "How are you feeling?"

"A little scratched up."

Hoffa muttered as he brushed twigs off his arms. "Where am I?"

"In the labyrinth, of course," the Sphinx answered with a shrug. "Silly question."

"Who put you here?"

Hoffa couldn't help but ask. The creature's appearance was too unusual.

"Who put me here?"

The Sphinx echoed.

"Yeah. Was it Grindelwald? Or some other wizard?"

"Oh, you mean my master?"

The Sphinx shook her head. "This maze has many creatures—man-made, natural, foreign, native. But I am none of them. I am free."

"You're not?"

Hoffa studied the Sphinx. Indeed, she looked completely at ease.

"Of course not. I am the monster of the labyrinth. My relationship with the labyrinth is like that of a pond and a fish. Wherever there is a labyrinth, I exist—whether it is man-made or naturally formed. I love labyrinths; they give me a sense of purpose."

The Sphinx continued, "But naturally, ordinary people never get to see me. They're too stupid, and meeting them would lower my intelligence.

However, occasionally, a clever one or two will wander in. When that happens, I talk to them, ask them a question. If their answer fails to satisfy me, I eat them."

As soon as it finished speaking, the labyrinth walls made of dense vegetation rustled once more. Another person stumbled in. He was tall, wearing a thick, fur-lined brown cloak. His nose was hooked, his eyes sharp and sinister, and his long arms hung past his knees.

It was Viktor Krum.

Another Triwizard Tournament competitor.

"Hey, who are you?"

Viktor Krum scrambled to his feet, speaking in broken English as he called out to Hoffa, "Is this your pet monster?"

The Sphinx turned to Hoffa. "Do you know him?"

Hoffa nodded slowly.

"But he doesn't seem to know you," the Sphinx chuckled. "Tell me, is he a fool in disguise, or just a brute with no brains?"

Hoffa did not answer. Though he had an idea, Krum had already drawn his wand, looking highly alert.

The Sphinx turned to Viktor Krum. "Hey, young man from the North, tell me—what always smiles, never sleeps, wears borrowed clothes, and accompanies you for half your life?"

Viktor Krum pointed his wand at the Sphinx and said loudly, "Do I have to defeat you to pass? Is the trophy behind you?"

"Answer my question, young man," the Sphinx said lazily.

"Reducto!"

Viktor Krum swung his wand, sending a spell hurtling toward the Sphinx, but the moment it touched the creature's body, it vanished into nothing.

Unfazed, the Sphinx snapped its fingers, shifting from stillness to motion in an instant—like a lioness pouncing on a gazelle. It moved so quickly that Hoffa barely had time to react. In the blink of an eye, Krum was flipped upside down, hanging by his feet. His wand was flung away, rolling to a stop at Hoffa's feet.

"Wrong answer," the Sphinx said, shaking the famous Seeker's leg as it brought its face close to his. "Do you know the riddle's answer?"

"Monster," Krum growled, his upside-down gaze burning with fury.

"Doesn't seem like it. You don't strike me as someone who enjoys thinking."

The Sphinx sniffed Krum's leg, as if savoring the scent of a particularly delicious meal. "So firm… You must be tasty."

With that, it opened its mouth. The once-delicate lips stretched wider and wider, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth—like a true lion's maw—until its jaws were large enough to swallow Krum's head whole.

At that moment, Krum's face turned pale. His teeth chattered slightly, but he said nothing.

"The moon."

A voice from below interrupted the Sphinx's attempt to feast. It froze and looked down in displeasure.

Hoffa stepped forward, his expression tense as he locked eyes with Krum. "The moon," he repeated.

"Correct," the Sphinx admitted. "But that was not your question."

Still holding Krum by the leg, it said coldly, "Those who fail my riddles are eaten. They disappear into the labyrinth. That is the rule."

"Then let's be fair," Hoffa countered. "I arrived first. Why did you question him before me?"

The Sphinx hesitated, its gaze turning curious as it examined Hoffa. Man and beast stared at each other for a long moment before the Sphinx finally averted its eyes. Its jaws slowly returned to their normal shape.

"Seems this isn't the right time. You're correct—I have a more important guest today."

With that, it lifted its massive paw and hurled Viktor Krum out of the circular maze as if tossing out the trash.

Then, the Sphinx straightened, rising with regal poise. It now resembled the famous Egyptian statue, its voice shifting from an ethereal feminine tone to a deep, thunderous resonance:

"As time flows, I have served as a guardian.

From first meeting Hera on Mount Ida,

To wandering the labyrinth of Zagreus.

Enduring her dark and venomous curses,

Fulfilling her blood-stained feasts.

Raising the sacred fire of wisdom and knowledge,

I finally attained freedom.

Named after the priest who held the Book of Law,

I see through the small and the deceitful,

And no fool or coward escapes my sight.

Only those who can answer my riddles

Shall earn my favor.

But only true heroes

Are worthy of my questions."

It flexed its razor-sharp claws and lightly traced from Hoffa's chin down to his heart, its knife-like talons gliding over his skin. Then, licking its lips, it asked, "Are you one?"

"What do you plan to ask me?"

Hoffa took a step back, avoiding the Sphinx's claws, his tone carrying a hint of mockery. "Is it 'What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?'"

The Sphinx threw back its head and laughed—a bright, melodious sound.

"Everyone knows I once asked Oedipus that question. But that was merely one of the countless riddles I possess. Each person faces a different challenge.

You are not Oedipus,

So I will not ask you the same question."

"Then bring it on."

Hoffa shrugged confidently. "I'm a Ravenclaw—there's no riddle in the world that can stump me."

"Of course, I'm well aware of your house's traditions."

The Sphinx's eyes gleamed mischievously. "That's why I don't intend to test you with a simple riddle like I did with Oedipus or others. That would be too easy."

"Oh?" Hoffa raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Then what do you want to ask me?"

The Sphinx began moving gracefully, circling around Hoffa with an elegant posture while scrutinizing him from head to toe.

"I want to ask you—why do humans build labyrinths? Take a guess."

"Why build labyrinths? Obviously, to trap people inside," Hoffa replied matter-of-factly.

"And why would one want to trap people inside a labyrinth?"

The Sphinx pressed further, "If the goal is to imprison someone, why not simply build a cage?"

The question grew more challenging. Hoffa furrowed his brow, stroking his chin as he paced in thought. After a long moment, he stopped and slowly answered:

"A cage is too obvious. If you put someone in a cage, outsiders can see them. But a labyrinth… from the outside, it's hard to see what's inside. Or rather, it's nearly impossible to see."

"And so?"

The Sphinx lay down, gazing at him with an amused smile.

"So, what's locked inside a labyrinth is something that must not be seen—something unspeakable. It must be hidden from the outside world, and it must not be allowed to escape."

Hoffa's voice grew heavier as he spoke.

"An excellent summary."

The Sphinx licked its paw. "But what exactly is 'unspeakable'? Under the sun, nothing is truly new—things that happen in this world are rarely surprising, wouldn't you agree?"

"Crime," Hoffa pondered for a moment before answering. "Society isolates criminals in prisons or cages.

"But if a criminal wants to conceal their own crimes, they won't use a cage. Instead, they'll create a labyrinth—because they don't want their crimes to be seen by others."

"You're close," the Sphinx said immediately, then pressed on, "but what exactly is a crime?"

It smiled and continued, "In the era when I was born, my mother was Echidna, and my father was her own son, the two-headed hound Orthrus. Back then, this was considered normal.

"But today, such a thing would be seen as madness."

Pausing for a moment, the Sphinx went on: "Five thousand years ago, 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' was the norm. Killers were revered. But today, murder is forbidden.

"Five hundred years ago, under the Church's rule, drinking alcohol was a crime in this land. But now, you can buy it anywhere.

"A hundred years ago, it was common for women to be married at fifteen. But today, marrying a fifteen-year-old is a crime.

"So tell me, clever Ravenclaw—what exactly is a crime? What is truly 'unspeakable'?"

The question grew sharper, and the Sphinx pushed relentlessly. Hoffa felt a cold sweat forming on his forehead as he locked his brows in deep thought. After a long silence, he answered:

"Different eras have different rules. They are products of their time and environment. You can't impose the past onto the present—that would violate the laws of time itself. It's too simplistic."

"Aren't rules just lies?"

The Sphinx chuckled softly, its expression full of mockery.

Crack!

Hoffa's eyes widened in shock as if struck by lightning. He instinctively took a step back.

The Sphinx's words had stripped away the last layer of illusion from his mind. In an instant, fragmented memories flashed before his eyes—the moon over the Black Lake fifty years ago, the madness of the Void Dragon and Grindelwald, the reckless self-destruction…

But then, he thought of Aglaea and Chloe, of the Nightmare God, of the Death Realm, and of the promises he had made.

Looking into the Sphinx's almond-shaped eyes, a realization dawned on him. At last, he shook his head.

"No. Rules are not lies."

"Oh? I'd love to hear your reasoning."

The Sphinx looked at him with curiosity.

Hoffa paced a few steps with his hands behind his back, then lifted his head.

"Rules exist in all times and places. The moment old rules are broken, new ones will inevitably take their place. Even in the most primitive eras, there was the rule of the strong devouring the weak. Even in the most ancient of times, there was death and rebirth. Even in the most chaotic of universes, there is a beginning and an end.

"What drives the planets to orbit? What governs lightning and fire? What dictates life and death?

"Those are all rules.

"If you ask me, rules are not lies. Rules are rules. Rules are the most powerful force in this world."

The Sphinx lay down, propping its head up with its sharp claws.

"But wouldn't a world without rules be truly free? Isn't breaking the rules exhilarating?"

"But it would also create countless monsters."

Hoffa looked at the Sphinx. "Monsters like you. Or perhaps… monsters like me."

The Sphinx snorted. "So, you've decided to uphold the rules now?"

"I was once blinded by nothingness and chaos. But yes—now, I will." He answered firmly.

"I'm satisfied. Heh… heh… heh…"

In the night, the Sphinx let out an eerie laugh. It rose to its feet, placing a massive lion's paw on Hoffa's shoulder.

A surge of immense magical power flowed forth. The wind howled, rustling the hedges of the labyrinth as leaves swirled into the air.

Tiny glowing particles seeped out of Hoffa's body—mist-like traces of the septic potion that Nicolas Flamel had injected into him.

Under the moonlight, Hoffa's wounds healed rapidly. A powerful and sharp aura surged through the labyrinth, so intense that even the moonlight was tinged with red—becoming a true "blood moon."

After purging the septic potion from Hoffa's body, the Sphinx stepped aside, bowing its head.

"You are a true warrior. Go now—uncover the labyrinth's darkest secret."

(End of Chapter)

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