Grindelwald exited the Room of Requirement, transforming back into the guise of Jacopo Hahn. Calmly, he descended the staircase, heading toward the Great Hall. At this moment, Hogwarts was steeped in the festive spirit of Christmas. The cold air was filled with faint echoes of Christmas carols, but those distant strains of Hallelujah sounded more like a requiem.
As he approached the landing at the stairway's turn, he paused. The subtle ripple of psychic energy in the air made it clear what awaited him ahead.
He gazed out at the snow-covered Scottish Highlands through the frosty window, exhaled a plume of white mist, and sighed. Smiling, he spoke:
"Are you here to invite me to the Christmas feast, Albus?"
A bright wand light pierced the darkness, and from the shadows emerged a man with auburn hair and beard. Wearing a grayish-red robe and a pointed wizard's hat, he looked impeccably formal—Albus Dumbledore. Behind him, a group of Hogwarts professors cautiously approached, their wands raised and glowing with magical energy. The surrounding psychic tension was suffocating.
After a brief silence, Dumbledore drew his wand, pointing it directly at Grindelwald's head. His voice was icy:
"We received a message from Fatiel. How long have you been hiding here?"
"Not long. Only six months," Grindelwald replied nonchalantly, brushing the snowflakes on the window ledge with his fingers.
"And the missing students? What did you do to them?"
"If I told you I killed them, would you believe me?" Grindelwald chuckled.
The professors collectively tensed, their faces darkening as they stepped forward. Only Dumbledore raised a hand to halt them.
Dumbledore asked, "Why?"
"Why kill people?" Grindelwald tilted his head mockingly.
"No, why take all the blame upon yourself?"
Grindelwald laughed. "Ah, my greatest amusement comes from hearing the ignorant brand me a dark lord, defame me with fervor, and scream their accusations. Then I simply ignore them. It's the ultimate display of intellectual superiority."
After a few seconds of silence, Dumbledore said softly, "You're an absolute scoundrel."
At that moment, the towering figure of Horace Slughorn stepped forward, anger etched on his face. "Enough nonsense! Why are you really here at Hogwarts?"
Grindelwald cast him a sidelong glance. "Nothing much, Horace. I'm merely here to see my student. That's all."
Dumbledore frowned. "Who is your student?"
"Can't you guess?" Grindelwald smirked, his lips curling into a sinister grin.
Dumbledore's face turned deathly pale, his previously calm demeanor hardening into something cold and fierce. "Where is Bach?"
Grindelwald checked an imaginary watch. "What time is it now?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, depending on the time, he might be a person... or a dragon."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? What dragon?"
Inside the Room of Requirement, the situation had grown eerily bizarre. Two identical figures faced each other—one seated, the other standing.
At this moment, Hoffa was utterly at a loss. Throughout this surreal journey, he had encountered all manner of adversaries, but he had never imagined meeting another version of himself. More disturbingly, he felt as if something essential had been stripped away from him—something important, yet something he had always overlooked.
"Who are you?" Hoffa broke the silence first.
"I am nothing. I am anyone," the other replied coolly. "But for now, you can think of me as you."
"Don't be ridiculous."
The other stretched out his arm, studying his hand with disinterest. "I possess everything you do—your abilities, your memories, your life. So why can't I be you?"
He continued, his tone detached, "The only difference is that I refuse to stay trapped at Hogwarts. Why waste time in a tiny place like this, blending in with a group of simpletons who merely wait to die?"
Hoffa narrowed his eyes. "And that's your excuse for turning other students into animals? To prove you're different?"
"It wasn't just me. It was us. I needed to confirm my position in this universe and where I stand in the grand food chain."
As he spoke, he spread his arms, his piercing gaze locking onto Hoffa's. "Why are we still here at this school? Why keep living this monotonous, repetitive life?"
Hoffa had no answer. He was still reeling from the sheer absurdity of this apparent split within his psyche.
The other version of him stepped closer. "Why waste your life away, resigning yourself to a fate that's so predictable it's suffocating?"
Hoffa remained silent, his chest heaving.
His silence infuriated the other. He grabbed Hoffa by the collar, snarling, "Answer me!"
Before he could react, Hoffa swung his fist, sending his doppelgänger flying into the mountain of accumulated junk within the room.
Hoffa stood, activating his enhanced state. His body grew taller and more imposing as he clenched his fists. He couldn't answer the questions. Instead, he chose to strike first.
But within mere seconds, the figure emerged again from the wreckage, shaking off shards of broken junk like a dog shedding water. Now in his activated state as well, he was taller, stronger, and filled with an unrelenting fury—a hatred so deep it seemed it would devour Hoffa whole.
One step at a time, he advanced toward Hoffa. "Why waste away, year after year? Are we living for Hogwarts' sake?"
Standing before Hoffa once more, he demanded, "Tell me, why do we live?"
Before the words fully left his mouth, Hoffa punched again. His body trembled. The existential questions pierced his very soul, leaving him with nowhere to hide.
Boom!
The other flew back once more, crashing through two decrepit cabinets and scattering countless discarded potion vials.
The garbage heap shifted again as the man, identical to him, staggered out from the shards of glass bottles. His body was covered in burns from the discarded, dangerous potions, emitting smoke tinged with green, purple, and red hues. He looked utterly disheveled.
Yet, on his face was a mocking sneer so thick it seemed unshakable. Once again, he stood before Hoffa.
"You don't know, do you?"
"Your life has no purpose, does it?"
Hoffa didn't strike again; instead, he stepped back.
The other "Hoffa" suddenly erupted in rage, grabbing Hoffa's head and pressing his face close. His eyes were wide with fury as he roared, "Tell me, what have you even done these past few years?"
"I protected this school," Hoffa stammered.
"Are you a hermit crab?"
The other Hoffa shouted like a madman:
"What about the heights of our life?"
"Without Hogwarts, what's left of you?"
"Will I end up like Filch, just wasting away? Graduate in seven years, take a mediocre job at the Ministry of Magic, and then die old and full of regret on a hospital bed? Is that what you want? Is that all you want?"
His barrage of furious questions left Hoffa silent. The void in his heart made it impossible to face this ambitious version of himself. He didn't know how to answer.
"Say something!"
The other's head swelled, his voice rumbling like thunder. His entire body began to transform, vibrant colors flowing across his skin, each muscle resembling a massive slab of kaleidoscopic granite.
Hoffa tried to push him away but found the other's strength overwhelming. When it came to mastery over bodily transformation, the other was far superior.
"If you can't answer me, then die!"
Gripping Hoffa's throat, he tightened his fingers. Scales layered over his arm, and his razor-sharp teeth gleamed cruelly.
"Urgh..."
Hoffa's vision blurred, his own bones screaming in agony.
Just as the grip on his neck grew unbearable, a black-and-white cat leaped onto the other's face, clawing down hard. The attack struck its eye.
The other recoiled in pain, one hand still clamped on Hoffa while the other grabbed the cat. "I despise everything connected to you!"
With that, he flung the black-and-white cat with incredible force, sending it crashing through two walls. Then his chest swelled like a bellows, and he exhaled a scorching blue flame. The intense heat melted the garbage heap into a flowing lava trench.
Seeing the blazing inferno, Hoffa struggled even harder.
"Miranda..."
Desperately clawing at the vice-like grip on his neck, his other hand groped along the ground. If only I had my wand... he thought. If I could summon a hammer, maybe I could bash this guy's head in.
As the thought crossed his mind, his fingers brushed against a handle. To his surprise, a hammer materialized beside him. Gripping it tightly, Hoffa swung it with all his might, smashing it into the other's head.
CLANG!
The force sent the other flying over twenty meters away.
Panting heavily, Hoffa stared at the hammer in his hand, realization dawning. This was the Room of Requirement. Any request he made could be fulfilled here.
Hope sparked within him.
Discarding the hammer, he turned toward the blaze. Silently, he chanted in his mind, I need to extinguish the fire. I need to extinguish the fire. I need to extinguish the fire.
Suddenly, enormous pipes emerged from the ceiling of the Room of Requirement, releasing torrents of water that cascaded down and extinguished the burning heap.
Scrambling over the wet debris, Hoffa found the black-and-white cat. It wasn't dead, though half its fur had been scorched off, and it trembled in the puddle. Gently, he picked it up, holding it close as relief washed over him.
But then, another thunderous explosion echoed from the distance.
A massive iron claw emerged from the garbage heap. This time, the figure identical to himself had completely shed its human form, transforming into a half-human, half-dragon monstrosity. It had golden eyes, jagged spikes covering its body, and scales shimmering like a chameleon's.
Hoffa shouted, "Are you insane? Killing your own friends?"
"Hmph, that pathetic kindness of mine, the sickening mercy, the boundless tolerance—they no longer exist in me!"
The dragon spoke coldly before vanishing into thin air.
Hoffa was stunned. That was his Phantom Step! This creature had just used it.
He knew how terrifying this ability was. He wanted to use Phantom Step himself to evade the incoming attack, but to his shock, he couldn't. His ability had been stolen by the other.
Clutching the black-and-white cat, Hoffa retreated frantically, his mind racing:
Trap it. Trap it. I need a place to trap it.
Ten seconds later, as the Phantom Step wore off, the dragon reappeared in front of Hoffa, its massive, rhino-like head inches from his face. It stared coldly at him and said, "Now, who is Hoffa Bach?"
It opened its jaws to strike, intent on eradicating this weak side of itself.
Hoffa roared, "Trap it!"
BOOM!
The entire Room of Requirement transformed instantly.
The towering garbage heaps vanished, replaced by thick iron chains and enormous pendulum-like axes. The floor sank inwards, layer upon layer, forming a seemingly endless abyss.
The dragon stepped into the trap, triggering a 360-degree rotation of the mechanism. Blades whirred like a meat grinder, interlocking cages of iron piercing outward layer by layer.
Every rotation of the trap inflicted grievous wounds on the creature. But to Hoffa's horror, the injuries healed almost instantly, and the dragon grew even larger, even more dragon-like with each cycle.
Hoffa was terrified. Each wound made it stronger than before? He had never faced an enemy so fearsome.
"You can't trap me. Are you fooling yourself?"
The enormous creature roared from within the layered cages. It opened its mouth and unleashed a blazing torrent of blue fire.
The flames illuminated Hoffa's face. Clutching the trembling cat, he repeated desperately under his breath:
Seal it. Seal it. Seal it!
The dungeon transformed again. Stone doors slammed shut, interlocking tightly. With every command Hoffa uttered, the Room of Requirement added another layer of fortification.
BOOM!
BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
As stone and iron doors sealed shut one after another, the dragon's fiery breath was finally contained. The glow of the flames dimmed, as though Pandora's box had been sealed.
Hoffa collapsed to the ground, cold sweat streaming down his face. After only a few exchanges, he understood that this creature was more bizarre and formidable than anything he had ever encountered.
And just as much as the dragon loathed him, he loathed the dragon. He couldn't stand the idea of something identical to himself existing in this world. It made him question his very existence.
BOOM!
Suddenly, the sealed dungeon bulged outward. Thunderous rumbling echoed from below, shaking Hoffa off his feet.
The dungeon bulged again, and the entire tower trembled slightly.
The creature wasn't dead. Hoffa swallowed hard.
He didn't dare hesitate. Clutching the black-and-white cat, he scrambled out of the Room of Requirement. He didn't know how long the room's abilities could hold it, but his immediate priority was to evacuate everyone from the school.
Racing down the eighth-floor corridor, cat in hand, Hoffa ran as fast as his legs could carry him.
The sky outside glimmered with strange, shifting colors. He couldn't tell if he was the only one seeing this, or if everyone else saw it too.
He sprinted toward the school's Great Hall, hoping to find help. But when he arrived, the hall was deserted, save for a few leftover Christmas trees and mistletoe swaying gently from the ceiling.
Though the people were gone, the air was thick with intense, volatile magical energy.
Following the trail of magic, Hoffa moved down the corridor. It wasn't long before he came across two opposing groups.
On one side were the school professors, wands raised, led by Dumbledore. On the other stood Grindelwald, arm lifted in defiance.
From afar, Hoffa heard Dumbledore's fierce voice: "Where is Bach?"
(End of chapter)
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