Harry Potter: I am the Legend

The speedboat raced across the sea, quickly closing in on the massive Scharnhorst battleship encased within a glass bottle. Strangely, the warship had gone eerily silent—it no longer spewed fire, nor did soldiers leap from it like before.

As the speedboat approached the colossal hull, Ryan and Tom met no further resistance.

The sudden calm felt like the stillness before a storm, unsettling Ryan. Just minutes ago, the people aboard that ship had seemed hell-bent on obliterating them.

Yet Tom Riddle remained composed. Standing at the boat's prow, the sea breeze tousling his hair, he exuded confidence. To him, Muggles were nothing more than writhing bundles of protein—easily obliterated with a mere flicker of his magic.

When they were about a hundred meters away from the battleship, Tom casually raised his wand and Disapparated, reappearing on the deck he had locked onto with his gaze.

What awaited him were countless gun barrels and massive cannons, all aimed squarely at the young wizard. The entire arsenal of the Scharnhorst had been redirected toward him.

Tom Riddle, however, remained unfazed. He scanned his surroundings and quickly spotted a man standing amidst the ranks of soldiers. The man's head was bowed, and his demeanor hinted at authority.

Dressed in dark green military attire adorned with three gold stripes on his shoulders, the man was clearly the highest-ranking officer present.

"Well, are you the legendary Muggle who killed a vampire?" Tom asked nonchalantly, stepping forward.

The man slowly raised his head, revealing a bizarre face. One half bore deep lines, pronounced cheekbones, and a hardened complexion; the other half was eerily smooth, with the delicate features and silver-white eyes of a young girl. The stark contrast made Tom's skin crawl.

"Yes, that's me," the half-man, half-woman replied in a chilling tone. "And you must be the one who slaughtered my soldiers out there?"

"That's correct," Tom admitted, taking an involuntary step back. Despite his numerous encounters during missions with Hogwarts, he had never seen anyone this grotesque.

At that moment, Ryan Disapparated onto the deck as well. Taking in the rows of soldiers and the eerie man, he gasped, "Merlin's beard..."

Steeling himself, Tom's expression returned to normal. A strange appearance was hardly worth concern. What truly piqued his interest was the sheer number of soldiers and the hidden warship. The potential to bring such forces back to Hogwarts—and the wizarding world—filled him with excitement. His reputation across European wizarding society would surely soar.

"So many soldiers hiding on British soil... Am I fortunate, or are you simply unlucky?"

With a smirk, Tom snapped his fingers. The sea beneath the battleship began to churn violently. Black serpents slithered out of the water, climbing the ship's hull. Their numbers were so overwhelming that the snakes formed a writhing black-red carpet over the ship's side, their hissing filling the air.

"What an interesting display of magic," the half-man, half-woman commented, unfazed, unlike the soldiers, who recoiled in fear.

"Care to test it?" Tom taunted.

"I'd love to," the strange figure replied earnestly, catching Tom off guard with their unexpected response.

"Hmph, suit yourself."

Without hesitation, Tom raised his yew wand and cast, "Serpensortia!"

The mass of serpents on the deck coiled together, forming several enormous black pythons that lunged at the soldiers.

Simultaneously, the soldiers opened fire. A barrage of bullets cut through the air, turning the steel deck into a sieve. Cannons roared, heedless of collateral damage, leaving the ship riddled with fiery craters.

Tom quickly raised a serpentine shield to deflect the relentless assault. One of the giant snakes coiled protectively around him, absorbing bullets that embedded themselves into its flesh, bursting into showers of blood.

"Hey, Hufflepuff!" Tom barked at Ryan, who was also struggling under a magical shield. "Take out their weapons!"

"What are you going to do?" Ryan shouted back, his shield cracking under the strain.

"I'll draw their fire!"

"Are you serious?"

"Move it!"

"Damn it!" Ryan cursed, stomping his foot before Disapparating. He reappeared on the battleship's gun deck, where he began disabling cannons one by one. Some froze solid under his spells, while others twisted into unusable shapes. The air filled with the sounds of misfires and explosions.

Meanwhile, Tom focused on controlling the serpents. As bullets tore through their massive forms, they dissolved into black mist, which seeped into the soldiers' orifices. One by one, the soldiers collapsed, writhing in agony as snakes burst forth from their bodies.

The battle reached a fever pitch before the cannon fire finally ceased.

The deck was a smoking ruin, littered with spent ammunition, shattered weapons, and lifeless bodies. Tom, breathing heavily, lowered his wand and turned to the enigmatic figure, who stood unscathed.

"Now it's your turn," he growled.

The strange figure clapped slowly, their expression filled with admiration. "Impressive. Truly impressive. Given time, you might achieve great things."

"Spare me your flattery!" Tom snapped.

Without waiting, he raised his wand and performed a dark curse. Black energy spiraled out from beneath him, swiftly coiling around the figure. The curse caused their body to wither and age visibly, their features shrinking and blackening until they crumpled to the ground.

"Slytherin's Curse."

Tom sneered. "Dying by this magic is an honor for a Muggle like you."

The figure knelt, inspecting their withered hands, and murmured, "Fascinating... Truly fascinating. Magic is incredible."

"Stop pretending!" Tom retorted, irritated by their composure. "That curse ensures you'll never stand again!"

But as he spoke, the withered figure slowly rose. Their body swelled and regained color, reversing the effects of the curse. Even the dark energy of Slytherin's Curse spiraled away, retreating into Tom's wand like spilled water flowing backward.

Tom stared, stunned, as the black mist returned to him. Panic flickered across his face before it was replaced by fierce determination.

Clenching his fists, veins bulging on his forehead and neck, he hissed through gritted teeth: "Serpents!"

Accompanied by his incantation, the fallen soldiers' corpses began to convulse uncontrollably. Each muscle fiber was stripped from their bodies, transforming into black serpents.

The serpents interwove into a massive net and descended with the force of a collapsing mountain, engulfing the strange figure like a tidal wave. The writhing swarm swallowed the figure whole, and in less than three breaths, his body was reduced to a skeletal frame, stripped entirely of flesh.

Tom gasped for air, his wand trembling in his hand. The large-scale destructive magic had clearly taken a toll on him. However, seeing the figure consumed to the bone brought him a measure of relief.

Just then, Ryan, who had been destroying the turret, returned. Tom spat disdainfully and turned to Ryan, saying, "See? That's the power I wield."

Ryan, however, stared behind Tom with a horrified expression. "No, look!" he stammered.

A sense of foreboding surged within Tom. He spun around abruptly to see the skeletal remains reassembling themselves piece by piece. The black serpents that he had controlled began regurgitating the flesh they had devoured as though reversing their feast.

Each serpent expelled fragments of flesh—some disgorging intestines, others eyes—until thousands of snakes had regurgitated enough to reconstruct the figure's body exactly as it had been before. The serpents then slithered back to Tom's side in an eerily synchronized retreat, as if rewinding a film.

Finally, the androgynous figure stood before them again, examining his unscathed hand.

The sight left Tom's jaw agape, nearly enough to fit three eggs. He had never witnessed anything so bizarre in his years in the wizarding world.

The figure sighed, "Do you have any new tricks? Frankly, I'm getting bored."

"What kind of joke is this?!" Tom roared, his snakes flooding the steel structure like a web. Yet, the figure, pressed against the wall amidst the writhing mass of snakes, vanished into thin air.

Another figure appeared behind Tom, grabbing his head and forcefully shoving his neck toward a jagged steel spike created by an earlier explosion.

Boom!

Tom swung backward with all his might, aiming for the figure, but the man vanished again. His powerful blow struck the steel wall instead, producing a loud crack as he broke his own hand. Before he could react, the figure appeared on his other side, snatched Tom's wand, and flung it far away before resuming his relentless assault to press Tom's head toward the spike.

"You're not… not just some… some Muggle!" Tom croaked through clenched teeth as he glared at his attacker.

"Perhaps not. I am nearing godhood," the figure murmured, his voice low. "Immortal and invincible, entirely self-contained."

With a sharp push, Tom's face came perilously close to the sharp spike, mere millimeters away. Just as death seemed inevitable, Ryan emerged from the snake swarm in the distance and shouted, "Hey, let him go!"

He raised his wand and yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!"

The blue spell shot forth, striking the figure and causing him to momentarily freeze.

Furious and humiliated, Tom spat insults as he lay pinned to the deck. "What the hell, Ryan?! A Body-Bind Curse?! Avada Kedavra! Sixth or seventh year and you still can't cast the Killing Curse?! What are you even doing?!"

Remarkably, the Body-Bind Curse worked. The figure froze completely, leaving Tom's neck hovering mere centimeters from the jagged spike. For a moment, all was still.

The petrified figure suddenly staggered backward, releasing Tom, who immediately scrambled away, retreating nearly ten meters before stopping. His wide eyes remained fixed on the androgynous figure, terror etched across his face.

The figure stood motionless, glancing at the distant gun turret atop the Scharnhorst. His expression flickered with confusion before he abruptly vanished, leaving behind only the corpses of soldiers and two shaken young wizards.

For several long moments, neither Tom nor Ryan moved, as though petrified themselves. When the figure did not return, Ryan finally regained his senses and rushed to Tom, tearing a strip from his robe to bandage Tom's wounds.

Tom stirred, touching his face where a spike had grazed it, and stared at the blood on his hand. His expression shifted rapidly—shame, confusion, excitement, and greed all flashing in turn. Finally, he ignored his pain, sat down, and bit his finger, deep in thought.

"Immortal… truly immortal… It actually exists in this world?" he muttered to himself.

His eyes fell on a green sapling he retrieved from his chest pocket. "No wonder Bach asked me about black mistletoe. So that's it…"

Tom glanced at Ryan, who was tending to his injuries. A fleeting hesitation crossed his face but was quickly overtaken by greed. He had witnessed a power unlike anything he had ever known, and he would stop at nothing to obtain it.

"Ryan," he called.

"What is it?" Ryan asked, sensing an inexplicable chill as he met Tom's gaze.

The Slytherin prefect's pale face was streaked with blood, his eyes bloodshot, and his breathing uneven. Yet his expression was a twisted mix of restraint and yearning.

"Ryan," Tom repeated softly. This time, his tone was gentle, but Ryan instinctively stepped back, his blood running cold.

Tom licked his lips and said with a hint of regret, "I've finished off these Muggle soldiers."

"And… then what?" Ryan asked, his voice trembling.

"I must defeat him. Think about it—if a Muggle possessed such power, how great a threat would that be to our wizarding world?"

Tom placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan's gaze fell on the green sapling in Tom's hand, and a wave of dread washed over him.

Suddenly, Ryan shoved Tom's hand away, dropping the bandage as he turned and fled without looking back, stumbling as he ran.

Tom, left leaning against the wall, chuckled darkly. His tongue flicked over his lips as his expression turned resolute. Picking up his lost yew wand, he clutched his broken arm and swiftly pursued Ryan.

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