Without hesitation, Hoffa immediately used the upgrade on the Disillusionment Charm.
It was the only spell that could prove useful in his current situation.
In his mental sea, the three dimly glowing Spell Shards suddenly became vivid. Before he could examine them closely, they fused into a perfectly symmetrical equilateral triangle!
The triangle ignited, burning fiercely for a brief moment before disintegrating and merging into his very veins.
Upgrade accepted!A surge of boiling energy coursed through Hoffa's body, like a jolt of adrenaline injected straight into his heart!
A radiant silver star illuminated his conscious space.
Ding!
The Disillusionment Charm has been upgraded.
New Spell: [Advanced Disillusionment Charm—Ghostly Walk]
Ghostly Walk – (Upon entering shadow mode, your movement speed significantly increases, and you become immune to all damage for ten seconds.)
Hoffa snapped his head up. There wasn't much time left to think.
The scorching heat surged toward him as he turned to see a massive wave of roaring flames.
No time to dwell on the process of the spell upgrade—Hoffa activated the ability instantly.
Ghostly Walk!
In that moment, the dark wizard's magical fire engulfed him.
But Hoffa's form blurred and vanished into thin air. He didn't even need to chant the spell—the speed was far greater than the original Disillusionment Charm.
Time seemed to slow.
In the dark wizards' eyes, the boy in front of them merely shimmered for a second before being consumed by the raging flames.
But in Hoffa's perception, the entire world had transformed into shades of gray. Buildings, clouds, the moon, the goblin, and the dark wizards—all were rendered in monochrome.
He heard an eerie, howling wind and saw ripples spreading like water across the world before him.
And his own body?
Standing amidst the gray flames, Hoffa's form shimmered rhythmically with waves. The fire lacked heat, made no sound, and seemed entirely disconnected from his existence.
He had left the material world.
There's a chance!
Hoffa lifted his head, a spark of excitement in his eyes.
He had dodged it!
He stepped forward, and in an instant, he had covered over three meters, moving out of the fire's reach. He felt as light as a feather.
The two dark wizards assumed Hoffa had perished and turned to leave.
As they did, Hoffa exited his shadow state, lunging toward the restrained goblin.
One of the wizards caught sight of Hoffa, his eyes widening in shock. He had no idea how Hoffa had survived the flames unscathed.
But that didn't stop him from reacting. Without hesitation, he raised his wand.
A dangerous blue light shot toward Hoffa—it was a Blasting Curse!
Without thinking, Hoffa tapped his arm with his wand.
Ghostly Walk!
Once again, he slipped into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
The dangerous Blasting Curse passed straight through Hoffa's body, smashing into the building behind him, sending rubble flying everywhere.
He had completely transformed into a ghost-like entity.
Debris rained down as the wizard who had cast the explosive curse stood dumbfounded. The boy in front of him had vanished entirely into thin air, and his curse had hit nothing but air.
He immediately turned his head and shouted, "Vorsicht, wo nicht stimmt!" ("Careful, something's off!")
Schmidt, who was gripping the goblin's arm, spun around, but he saw nothing.
In the mist, all he could make out were his two companions.
In that split second of distraction, the goblin snapped his fingers.
Countless shards of rubble rose from the ground and flew toward Schmidt with a deafening whoosh.
Opportunity!
Hoffa sprang into action.
He locked onto the dark wizard holding the goblin and dashed forward, as swift as the wind.
Schmidt remained calm and whistled sharply. The Chimeric Bats attacking the goblin's protective spells abruptly shifted their focus, streaking toward Hoffa like bullets.
In Hoffa's grayscale world, the Chimeric Bats fluttered wildly, passing harmlessly through his body without leaving a scratch.
But his magic reserves were draining rapidly.
Meanwhile, the goblin was becoming more tightly bound under the dark wizard's spells.
Hoffa grew anxious. He hadn't learned any offensive spells and could only mimic what he'd read in novels. Waving his wand, he yelled, "Bone-shattering!"
The wand emitted a feeble white light, utterly ineffective. Clearly, he'd gotten the incantation wrong!
"Damn it!" Hoffa cursed aloud.
Stowing his wand, he sprinted forward and grabbed a brick off the ground mid-run.
Schmidt, still locked in a standoff with the goblin, felt a sudden gust of wind. Out of the mist, a small figure burst forth and appeared directly in front of him.
Hoffa didn't hesitate. Leaping high into the air, his body traced an arc under the moonlit sky.
Then, with all his strength, he brought the brick down on Schmidt's head.
"Take this!"
Smash!
The force of his momentum combined with the brick's impact hit Schmidt squarely.
The two-inch brick shattered against the wizard's forehead, flipping his hood back to reveal a cascade of gray hair and a distinctly Germanic face.
Blood trickled ominously from his nose, and a tooth, mixed with blood and spit, flew from his mouth. Without hesitation, he staggered and rolled twice before collapsing heavily to the ground.
The magic binding Indor dissipated instantly as it lost its caster's control.
Hoffa's wrist trembled, and blood seeped from his palm. Despite his young age, the recoil from that strike had taken its toll on him too.
But there was no time to dwell on that. Breathing heavily, Hoffa discarded the broken brick, lunged forward, snatched the stunned wizard's wand, and dragged Indor into a sprint.
The tall man didn't stay unconscious for long. With the help of his approaching companions, he soon stumbled to his feet.
Pressing a hand against the blood streaming from his forehead, his usually emotionless face showed a rare flicker of shock.
"Folget ihm!" ("Pursue him!")
Yet, his voice remained steady, devoid of emotion.
One of his companions released his hold and took off after Hoffa, running with long strides. This time, as he ran, he raised his hand and hurled his wand with all his might.
Hoffa glanced back, stunned. He had never seen a wizard throw their wand away.
What is this guy up to?
The answer came a second later. The thrown wand transformed midair into a sharp, gleaming cross-shaped sword that hurtled toward Hoffa like lightning.
Transfiguration!
The sheer danger made Hoffa's hair stand on end. Gripping the goblin tightly, he tapped his arm with his wand once more.
"Ghostly Walk!"
A spray of blood burst forth.
Indor and Hoffa vanished into thin air.
At the very moment they disappeared—
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Three massive serpents descended from the sky, their jaws snapping ferociously where Hoffa had stood.
The ground splintered under their attack, crushed to rubble by their enormous fangs. Then, in a thunderous explosion, all three serpents disintegrated.
The scene descended into chaos. Rubble and splinters flew in all directions, and the fiery explosion painted the night sky a vivid red.
The pursuing dark wizard arrived at the serpent's location and glanced down, finding nothing.
He raised his hand, catching the cross-shaped sword midair as it reverted to its wand form. Enraged, he erupted into a stream of curses.
The Ghostly Walk spell drained magic power significantly.
Ten seconds later, as Hoffa emerged from the mist, a faint trickle of blood ran from his nose. His magic reserves were completely depleted, and he collapsed to the ground, his face pale as a sheet.
Indor hurriedly grabbed Hoffa's arm, dragging him upright. He then noticed Hoffa's arm was drenched in blood.
Hoffa had entered the Ghostly Walk state a half-second too late, leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash on his arm. Blood gushed from the wound, and he had narrowly avoided being killed by that deadly transfiguration curse.
Panicking, Indor rummaged through his pockets, pulling out several potions and preparing to apply them to Hoffa's wound.
But Hoffa stopped him.
"Wait. Not here," he said weakly but firmly.
Indor looked at Hoffa in confusion.
Hoffa pointed to the trail of blood on the ground.
"Don't let the blood trail vanish at the Honeydukes' doorstep. They'll track us here."
Indor immediately understood. Supporting Hoffa, he guided him to a witch's cosmetics shop across from Honeydukes. On the stone steps, he uncorked a white potion—perhaps Dittany—and applied it to Hoffa's wound.
As he worked, he muttered something under his breath.
A stinging itch and sharp pain spread through Hoffa's arm as a pungent white smoke rose from his wound. The bleeding stopped quickly, and the gash scabbed over, but his depleted vitality was far from restored.
Watching the potion in Indor's hands gradually heal his wound, Hoffa felt no emotion—only calm.
For the first time, he had glimpsed the true power of this world. It was far more intense than the flashy wand duels depicted in novels and films.
Magical creatures combined with dark wizards.
The combination was overwhelmingly powerful. Without the incredible ability of Ghostly Walk, he would already be a corpse.
I'm still too weak. Too young.
He needed to grow stronger, to acquire more power and more time.
Once his injury was treated, Indor supported Hoffa as they hurried toward the Honeydukes shop ahead.
When they reached the shop, the door was securely locked.
Indor knocked on the door's lock, and with a bang, the shop door swung open.
After entering, he slammed the door shut and locked it tightly.
Inside, the shop's employees and owner were sprawled unconscious on the ground, rendered senseless by the lingering mist.
Indor asked, "Where do we go?"
Hoffa replied, "The basement."
The two passed through the cellar and entered Honeydukes' basement. Hoffa pushed aside the trapdoor.
Indor didn't need prompting; the two slipped underground.
Silence returned.
Hoffa's magic was nearly drained, and his physical strength had plummeted.
Seeing Hoffa's weakness, Indor quickly hoisted him onto his back, and the pair hobbled toward Hogwarts, step by step.
An hour later, chaos reigned outside the Hogsmeade Witch Cosmetics Shop. Several unconscious employees lay scattered on the ground amid debris.
Three dark wizards gathered nearby. Two of them held wands, meticulously examining the blood trail, occasionally touching it and tasting it before spitting it out.
Schmidt sat on the steps, staring intently at a broken brick as though it were some alien artifact he had never encountered before.
Finally, one of the wizards analyzing the blood straightened up.
"There's no way to track them. Even the Phantom Monkeys are useless. This area falls within Hogwarts' influence; there's too much protective magic."
Schmidt, still seated and wiping blood from his face, remained expressionless. Upon hearing this, he stood and replied indifferently, "I see."
One of his subordinates hesitated and cautiously asked, "Major, should we… head back?"
Schmidt lifted his head and shot the man a frosty glare. The curled-wing demons on his shoulders hissed and growled.
The wizard immediately fell silent.
After wiping the blood from his face, Schmidt said coldly, "If you return, you'll die. If you stay, you might live."
The thought of the terrifying figure behind Schmidt made the man lower his head. "Understood."
A square-faced wizard nearby chimed in, "That boy is strange. I hit him with four or five curses, yet he didn't react at all…"
"He must have some rare magical artifact on him," Schmidt said slowly and deliberately. "He's no ordinary student. When we catch him, we'll extract his secrets."
"What's the plan now?" another wizard asked.
"Retrieve my wand first. The British Ministry of Magic has likely sensed our intrusion." Schmidt stood, pulling his hood over his head. "The boy is a Hogwarts student. We'll figure out a way to infiltrate Hogwarts next."
"That's impossible!" one subordinate exclaimed. "That school is surrounded by countless defensive spells. How could we ever get in?"
"No matter," Schmidt said coldly. "That school isn't impenetrable. Grindelwald left a seed there long ago. Now, it's time to harvest it."
(End of Chapter)
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