Capítulo 35: Chapter 35: Following Death
The fledgling quickly recovered under the care of Hoffa and Joey.
Dodos were creatures that lived in the moment. By the next evening, it had already forgotten the terror of its near-extinction, eating and sleeping as if nothing had happened.
Hoffa, however, couldn't move on so easily.
His quality of life was steadily declining.
Trying to return to being an unnoticed student and erase his blemished record wasn't an easy process.
Each day, in addition to attending classes and doing homework, Hoffa had to roam the forest collecting herbs. More often, he patrolled the edges of the Forbidden Forest, checking on the conditions of the magical creatures living there.
It was grueling work, as the Forbidden Forest housed an overwhelming variety of magical creatures.
There were Murtlaps, rat-like creatures living near the lake. They fed on crustaceans and had sea anemone-like growths on their backs. Hoffa had to harvest these growths for the school hospital.
Then there were Doxy swarms—tiny humanoid creatures that looked like fairies but had multiple arms and legs, black fur, and thick, beetle-like wings.
Hoffa needed to collect their claws, a key ingredient for potions class.
(These were Hoffa's least favorite creatures. Though not particularly harmful, they constantly buzzed overhead like summer mosquitoes near grass patches.
One time, Hoffa caught two Doxies deliberately mating right above his head. Infuriated, he yanked the pair apart and hung them on separate tree branches.)
Though annoying, Doxies weren't dangerous.
The same couldn't be said for the Fwoopers.
These birds, while visually stunning with feathers of vibrant orange, lime green, and yellow, had a maddening song that could drive people insane.
Hoffa had to gather their feathers, which were used to make quills for the professors.
More than once, Hoffa came close to snapping due to their maddening cries, wildly firing spells in frustration. Thankfully, Joey intervened in time, plugging his ears.
The only creature Hoffa didn't entirely detest was the Mooncalf.
With large eyes, round bodies, and oversized feet, these shy creatures preferred remote, uninhabited areas. They typically emerged from their burrows on full moon nights to bathe in moonlight, standing on their hind legs to dance. Their dances left intricate patterns on the ground, which later misled Muggles into thinking they were crop circles created by UFOs.
However, even these charming creatures couldn't lift Hoffa's spirits. His encounters with them were solely to collect their dung, which was an excellent fertilizer for magical plants, promoting rapid and healthy growth.
This task was far from pleasant, and every time Hoffa did it, his resentment toward Indor grew.
After leaving Hoffa in the lurch at Hogwarts, Indor had disappeared without so much as a word, leaving Hoffa to toil away. It was infuriating.
Outside of work, Hoffa kept a close eye on outside events.
Every time Miranda brought the Daily Prophet, Hoffa would lean in to check it.
He hoped to read news about the capture of the three Dark Wizards.
Unfortunately, despite the continued fallout from the Hogsmeade incident, there was no sign of Schmidt Lutrov.
It was as if he had vanished into thin air.
This left Hoffa uneasy, especially since Schmidt's wand remained locked in the wardrobe beside his bed.
...
October gradually came to an end. Damp chills enveloped the Forbidden Forest as the weather turned colder, marking the end of Hoffa's laborious days there.
On October 30th, at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, two black horses—one large and one small—walked slowly along a frosted stream.
They were none other than Hoffa and Joey.
Hoffa rode on horseback while Joey led his horse, dragging a large sack and occasionally tossing herbs into it.
Because patrolling the Forbidden Forest involved covering a vast area, Hoffa had learned to ride over the past month—a skill he picked up thanks to Joey's free lessons.
Riding patrols wasn't exactly a cushy job. Once the initial excitement wore off, Hoffa often found himself sore from the bouncing, with chafed thighs that made it impossible to walk without keeping his legs apart.
Fortunately, today marked the final day of his duties in the Forbidden Forest. After today, he could return to the more manageable routine of normal school life—provided that Joey gave him a satisfactory grade on his performance review.
On that point, Hoffa wasn't particularly worried. After a month of working together, the two of them had developed a decent rapport.
However, on this last day of their patrol, Joey seemed unusually off.
He trudged ahead of the horse absentmindedly, occasionally bending down to mechanically grab a handful of plants and toss them into the sack. He moved like a lifeless puppet.
Hoffa had no idea what was wrong with the old man. Half-serious and half-joking, he asked,
"Hey, Joey, have you signed off on my evaluation sheet yet?"
"Hmm? Yeah…"
Joey answered absentmindedly, pulling up a few random weeds and tossing them into the bag.
Hoffa frowned slightly from atop his horse.
"So… did you give me an excellent grade?"
"Hmm? Yeah…"
Joey responded with the same listless tone, still avoiding eye contact.
Sensing something was really off, Hoffa stopped testing him and guided his horse to block Joey's path.
"Hey, what's going on with you?"
Joey hesitated for a moment before speaking slowly. "Talos is dying. Would you come with me to see him off?"
"What?"
Hoffa was stunned by the news. Talos, the old Thunderbird, was dying?
He vividly remembered that night a month ago when the Thunderbird had saved his life by shielding him from the centaur's arrow.
Throughout the month, Joey had taken Hoffa to check on Talos in the Forbidden Forest every few days. After the initial awe, Hoffa had gradually grown accustomed to the massive creature.
Talos had a calm temperament but hardly moved, ate, or drank. He was too old and frail.
Hoffa knew the great bird probably didn't have much time left, but he hadn't expected it to last less than a month.
Joey sighed. "The cold British weather has made it unbearable for him. He's decided to end his life early."
"Of course, I'll go," Hoffa said without hesitation.
"But it's not just going. I need you to help me with something," Joey added, his tone suddenly resolute.
"What is it?"
"Thunderbirds are similar to phoenixes. Every time they die, it's actually the beginning of a new life. But unlike phoenixes, Thunderbirds erase their memories and souls before death, leaving behind a successor completely unconnected to themselves."
As Joey spoke, his eyes grew firm with determination.
"I can no longer communicate with it directly, but you can. Your spiritual strength exceeds that of ordinary people; no one else could have endured so long in the magical illusions of the centaurs. I hope you can help me speak with Talos—convince it not to erase its soul. At the very least, ask it to retain a fragment of its memories."
Hoffa froze for a moment, surprised by the unusual request.
"You want me to... talk to Talos?"
"Exactly. I don't want it to forget me. Thirty years... we've been through countless adventures together. If possible, I hope it won't choose to erase everything," Joey said, his tone tinged with sadness.
"Doesn't it understand how you feel?" Hoffa asked.
"It does, but it still refused my request. If you're willing, I'd like you to try one last time," Joey said with determination.
Hoffa nodded. It was just a conversation with a bird—an easy enough task.
However, Hoffa had no idea how to communicate with a bird. He didn't know what method Joey intended to use.
The two rode their horses single file along the forest path and soon reached a clearing in the woods.
Unlike last time, which was at night, the daylight now allowed Hoffa to see everything clearly—and the sight was bleak.
The Thunderbird, Talos, who had once saved Hoffa, was now in a terrible state. It was far weaker than before, its skin ashen and emaciated, with its massive skeletal frame jutting out prominently. It looked like a mummified relic, with feathers scattered all around the ground.
The cold wind swept through the clearing, and the faint rise and fall of its abdomen was the only sign of life.
Seeing Talos in this condition, Hoffa felt a pang of sorrow. Perhaps letting go would indeed be a release for the majestic creature.
Joey led Hoffa toward the Thunderbird. The aged bird, now barely conscious, showed no reaction to their presence. Joey clenched his jaw as he gently touched Talos's withered body. After a moment of silence, he began murmuring incantations under his breath.
A strange magical energy started to ripple through the air.
As he chanted, Joey pulled out a small knife and made a cut on Talos's slackened skin.
A drop of fresh blood gathered on Joey's fingertip.
Then, without hesitation, Joey severed one of his own little fingers with the knife.
The sight made Hoffa gasp sharply, his back arching and goosebumps rising all over.
What the hell?! This guy's going full self-mutilation without batting an eye?!
Joey's blood mingled with the Thunderbird's, forming a single drop that radiated powerful magic.
A mysterious wind began to howl through the clearing.
Even standing several meters away, Hoffa could sense the immense magical energy contained in that droplet of blood.
Joey's face turned deathly pale, his hair losing its luster as though he had aged ten years in an instant. It was as if that single drop of blood had drained all his vitality.
He stumbled toward Hoffa, gripping his hand.
Dropping to one knee, Joey shakily painted a complex eye-shaped sigil on the back of Hoffa's hand with the blood.
Hoffa felt a chill spread through his body.
Seriously? Just to talk to a bird, is all this really necessary?
After completing the ritual, Joey was so weak he nearly fainted. "This... this is ancient sacrificial magic. It will let you communicate with souls. Please... ask Talos if it's willing to retain even the smallest fragment of its memory."
Hoffa nodded. "Got it."
"But remember," Joey added with great effort, "before the eye closes, you must return. If you can't see it, don't force it."
Hoffa frowned, confused by the cryptic warning.
"Return? But I'm in the Forbidden Forest. What do you mean by that?"
"You'll be going to a..." Joey began, but before he could finish, the Thunderbird on the ground began to convulse.
Joey pushed Hoffa aside and rushed forward to steady the dying bird's beak.
"My old friend, let's begin. I'll take good care of you," he murmured.
In a final burst of strength, the Thunderbird stood tall, its six massive wings outspread, briefly recapturing its former majesty as they cast a shadow over the clearing.
Its throat convulsed forcefully, and at last, it laid a sticky, glistening egg—one as large as Hoffa's head.
That act consumed the last of its strength.
With a heavy thud, Talos collapsed to the ground.
In its final moments, the Thunderbird weakly nuzzled against Joey, its deep golden eyes filled with reluctant affection as its breaths grew faint.
Joey knelt by the bird's beak, gently stroking its head repeatedly.
A few seconds later, the great bird took its final breath.
Its golden eyes lost their luster.
Joey remained kneeling, motionless, burying his face in the bird's neck.
Witnessing this, Hoffa felt a pang of sorrow.
Whoever claimed animals lacked emotions had clearly never seen a bond like this. Sometimes, the feelings between humans and animals were far more genuine and pure than those between people.
But before Hoffa could linger in his sadness, the bloody eye on the back of his hand seemed to come alive—it blinked.
Immediately, Hoffa felt his eyelids grow unbearably heavy.
With a loud thud, he collapsed to the ground, as though someone had forcefully yanked his hand. His pupils vanished, leaving only pure white in his eyes.
An unseen, colossal door roared open, and a fierce wind swept Hoffa's consciousness away.
Carried by the mysterious force, his awareness surged through layer upon layer of space.
Countless worlds flashed before his eyes, and an endless array of dimensions unfolded beneath his feet like a cascading film reel.
The sensation was overwhelming, and in a fleeting moment, Hoffa thought it might resemble traveling by Floo Powder—though he had never actually used it.
...
Eventually, the descent stopped, and he found himself standing on solid ground.
A biting, bone-chilling wind struck him, so cold it felt as though it could annihilate both his body and soul, leaving him utterly obliterated.
Caught off guard, he shivered violently, hugging his arms tightly around himself, nearly screaming from the pain.
Thankfully, his body instinctively activated the Milarepa Walker Meditation Technique he had learned. It began to circulate within him, over and over.
The meditation worked like warm blood flowing through his freezing body, shielding him from the merciless wind.
Hoffa's spirit grew steadier and more focused with each cycle, and gradually, the cold and the accompanying agony began to fade. Finally, he managed to open his eyes.
The first sight that greeted him left him utterly speechless.
Before him lay an endless abyss of ice and snow.
The dominant color was an icy blue, and the only weather here was the unrelenting cold wind. Slanted snow fell from a dark, obscure sky into the fathomless depths below.
Everything in this place was vague and enigmatic.
Hoffa stretched out his hand, catching a snowflake. To his astonishment, within the snowflake, he saw the image of a young boy wearing a crown and celebrating his birthday. The vision lasted only a few seconds before the snowflake melted and the scene disappeared.
He caught a few more flakes, each showing a different memory.
Here, every snowflake seemed to hold a fragment of a memory.
Brushing the accumulating snow off his hand, Hoffa widened his eyes, scanning his surroundings.
He stood on a bridge.
It was an immense, straight stone bridge that stretched from a place of nothingness toward an unknown destination. At the far end of the bridge, a gigantic, indistinct eagle-like silhouette loomed. The figure was so colossal it defied description.
As the shadow shifted, faint light emerged from it—this light was the only brightness in the entire abyss.
Hoffa's mouth fell open as he felt something behind him.
Turning around, he saw a massive, floating eyeball with a diameter of about one meter on the bridge behind him.
The eyeball hovered mid-air, its surface adorned with crimson tendrils. Through its pupil, Hoffa could faintly see the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts—the place he had come from.
At that moment, a voice echoed in his mind.
After a long silence, the system prompt returned once more:
(End of Chapter)
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