Chapter 193: The Insignificant Ones
In the dim, chaotic night, shadowy figures moved like specters. Some clutched their heads, staggering aimlessly. Others gripped bricks, smashing them repeatedly against surfaces, though it was unclear what they aimed to destroy.
Some tore at their own flesh, walking the streets like emotionless, lifeless husks. Others moved together like schools of sardines, following the crowd without understanding why.
The chaos and madness gnawed relentlessly at people's sanity, leaving Hoffa deeply unsettled. He began to realize that all humans are, in essence, products of isolation. Yet very few ever learn to coexist with loneliness.
People invented entertainment, social structures, order, and division of labor to seek comfort in rules. But once stripped of those rules, the world descends into chaos and primal suffering—a scene Hoffa believed Grindelwald desired to see.
Under the looming shadow of the Void Dragon, hope across the world was collapsing in a chain reaction.
Time was running out for him.
Hoffa glanced at the map and began sprinting through the chaos. He could only hope that Norbert hadn't yet succumbed to the same influence.
Not far into the town, he sensed faint magical fluctuations—weak, but present.
Hoffa's eyes lit up. Luck was on his side; there was a wizard in this town. He followed the trace of magic.
The trail led him to a narrow alley piled high with household garbage. Broken neon signs flickered on the shopfronts, casting alternating red and blue reflections onto the grimy puddles below.
Overhead, dense, tangled electrical wires crisscrossed like a web. The walls were plastered with layers of peeling advertisements. The scene reminded Hoffa of the Wolf Orphanage.
A faint, intermittent cry reached his ears.
"Let me go! Let me go…"
A clatter came from the garbage heap, mingled with the sound of someone groaning in pain. Turning a corner, Hoffa saw several boys about his own age cornering someone among the trash. They were frenzied, kicking furiously.
Their mouths foamed with white spittle, their eyes bloodshot with madness.
Hoffa cautiously moved closer and peered around the edge. The boys were attacking a tall, broad-shouldered man. The man wore ragged, dirty clothing and cowered in the rain-soaked alley, trembling. The rainwater beneath him was streaked with faint pink.
"Monster! You're a monster!"
The leader, a blond-haired boy, raved deliriously.
"Abomination! Heretic!"
Another boy shouted with fervent zeal.
"Let's kill him!"
A boy pulled out a knife. "I can't hold back anymore!"
"Wait! Killing him would be too easy," the blond boy stammered, his voice shaking with sadistic glee. "I... I don't want him dead yet. He's too evil."
"Then what should we do?"
"I'll cut off his limbs and then heal him! Hahaha!"
He laughed manically, shaking his head.
"Good idea," another boy agreed. He licked his blade with wild abandon, slicing his tongue in the process. Blood dripped from his mouth as he raised the knife, ready to plunge it into the man's body.
At the very moment the blade descended, a hand like an iron clamp grabbed his wrist, halting him in his tracks.
The boy turned his head, only to find an unfamiliar youth about his age standing beside him. Before he could fully register who the stranger was, a swift chop to the back of his neck rendered him unconscious.
In less than three seconds, all four crazed boys lay unconscious on the ground, crumpled like discarded sacks.
Hoffa sighed deeply and turned his attention to the man.
Now, he could see clearly. The man was huddled between two garbage bins, his body battered and bruised. He stared at Hoffa with wide, beetle-brown eyes, filled with terror.
A man?
A bolt of lightning illuminated his face.
No, perhaps not a man. Despite his large frame, his face was strikingly youthful and frightened.
Yes, this was the source of the magical fluctuations Hoffa had sensed.
Hoffa observed the man for a moment, a sense of familiarity tugging at him. Extending a hand, he said gently, "Hey, are you alright?"
Rubeus Hagrid glanced nervously at the convulsing, foam-mouthed boys sprawled in the nearby trash heap. Lowering his head, he curled into a trembling ball, saying nothing.
"Are you okay?" Hoffa tilted his head. "You're a wizard, aren't you?"
"I'm not—I'm not!"
The towering young man covered his face in panic and retreated, only to hit the wall behind him with nowhere left to go.
Hoffa scrutinized his face. There was a resemblance to Norbert, and a distant memory surfaced. He finally understood who this was—Rubeus Hagrid, the future magical creature enthusiast and one of the most important supporting characters in Harry Potter's era.
He wasn't mad, at least not yet. That realization sparked a glimmer of hope in Hoffa. He stepped closer, speaking softly:
"Norbert is your father, isn't he?"
Perhaps it was Hoffa's calm mental field, or maybe his voice lacked the crazed tone of the others. The large young man gradually settled down.
Looking into Hoffa's eyes, he nodded slowly. "Y-Yes."
Hoffa placed a reassuring hand on Hagrid's shoulder and said gently, "Let me meet your father, alright?"
Hagrid hesitated, then pouted, his voice trembling with sadness. "My father… he's gone mad."
"Mad, is he?" Hoffa murmured, unsurprised by the answer. He had seen too many succumb to madness on his journey. "That's okay. Let me see him anyway."
Hagrid, staring into Hoffa's golden eyes beneath his gray hair, felt an inexplicable trust. Nodding, he rose, dusted himself off, and picked up a small paper bundle. Inside were two small loaves of bread. Carefully tucking them away, he said, "Follow me."
Hoffa followed Hagrid through the chaotic town, past burning forests, and across fields of crows soaring above wheat.
Eventually, they reached an abandoned farm. As soon as they arrived at the entrance, the sharp stench of alcohol hit Hoffa's nose.
Pushing open the door, Hoffa saw a man sprawled atop a mound of straw bales. His hair was disheveled, his face unshaven. He was wrapped in a thick coat, surrounded by heaps of discarded liquor bottles.
It was Norbert Hagrid, but he was a shadow of the man Hoffa had met during the summer. Gone was the sharp, driven gaze, replaced by chaos and exhaustion.
When Norbert noticed Hoffa approaching, he turned his head sluggishly, his expression blank and devoid of recognition. Hoffa was startled by the emptiness in his eyes—it mirrored his own when he once chose death.
Hagrid stepped forward, pulling the two small loaves from his pocket. Norbert, however, shoved him away forcefully, yelling, "Where's the damn booze? Where's my booze?"
"It's all gone. I couldn't find any," Hagrid murmured.
"Useless! Get out!"
Norbert roared and pushed Hagrid, tumbling off his pile of bottles in the process. Unfazed, he clumsily searched the ground, flipping over empty bottles in frustration. When all he found were empties, he grew enraged, flailing in the sea of bottles like a drowning man.
Hoffa scanned the room and noticed half a bottle of liquor on a shelf. Picking it up, he walked over and handed it to Norbert.
"You?"
Norbert, drooling slightly, squinted at him before snatching the bottle. Tilting his head back, he downed a large gulp. "Do you know who gets into heaven?" he slurred.
"People who aren't allergic to alcohol," Hoffa replied calmly.
"Ha! You're sharp, kid. I knew you were something special," Norbert laughed, then lashed out with his foot, kicking Hagrid's ankle.
"Get out! Even a stranger is less annoying than you!"
Hoffa grabbed Norbert's shoulder, pulling him aside. He then turned to the forlorn Hagrid, patting his arm gently. "Wait outside for me," he said softly.
Hagrid looked into Hoffa's pure, determined eyes. Though Hoffa was only shoulder-high to him, an inexplicable sense of trust welled up within him. He nodded and shuffled out of the farm, stopping just beyond the straw bales to peek back nervously.
Inside, Hoffa sat cross-legged beside Norbert.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Norbert slurred, his drunken eyes barely focused. "I thought you were locked up in Azkaban."
"Azkaban had a breakout," Hoffa said quietly. "All the prisoners escaped. Grindelwald destroyed the place."
"So you slipped out in the chaos, eh? Smart move."
Norbert took another swig of alcohol, his voice mocking. "What now? Come to settle scores with me?"
Hoffa didn't respond, merely watching him silently.
"Don't look at me like that, kid," Norbert said irritably, waving a dismissive hand. "If you were me back then, you'd have run too. Blame yourself for not knowing how to Apparate."
"I'm not here to argue." Hoffa's voice cut him off.
"That creature—did you create it?"
"Create? Create what?"
"The Void Dragon."
"The Void… Dragon?"
Norbert burst into laughter. "What are you talking about? Void doesn't get created! Don't make me laugh."
He chugged more liquor and tossed the bottle aside. Sprawling out on the ground, he closed his eyes, ready to sleep. Hoffa grabbed his collar and yanked him upright.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to stop it."
"Stop? It's over. This world is over. You don't understand Grindelwald, you have no idea how insane he really is."
Hoffa replied, "I'm not talking about Grindelwald, I'm talking about that creature."
"Creature!!"
Norbert suddenly shrieked:
"What the hell do you mean by creature? You keep calling it a creature. Let me tell you what it is—it's reality, a meaningless reality!
I spent forty years of my life researching this. Forty years of studying biological fusion technology, and before I even finished, it was taken from me, made into someone else's tool!
This was the culmination of my life's work, and now it's been stolen. What do you expect to get from me? My existence has no value."
Hoffa placed his hand on Norbert's shoulder, trying to calm him down, but this only provoked a fierce resistance.
"How dare you touch me! You little bastard! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't..."
Hoffa pinned Norbert down, holding his arm firmly as if restraining an injured wild animal.
"Don't even think about it."
"Don't even think about it!"
Norbert roared, "That was forty years of my life! You think I can just forget it? Can't you see? We're just pawns in someone else's game!"
"Do you remember that cabin?" Hoffa asked.
"We're pawns!"
Norbert continued to shout, distraught, "Just fucking pawns!"
"Do you remember that cabin?"
Hoffa raised his voice.
"I don't remember any cabin! Get the hell out!"
Norbert tried to shove Hoffa away. His fingers brushed against a glass bottle, and in a fit of rage, he swung it at Hoffa's face.
Crash!!
The bottle shattered on Hoffa's face.
The alcohol soaked into his hair and cheek, but his expression didn't change. He seized Norbert's hand and ripped the bottle from his grasp.
"Do you remember what you told me?"
"What the hell did I tell you?!"
Norbert struggled desperately.
"People should live like dragons!"
Hoffa held him down with all his strength.
"A dragon doesn't care whether it dies tomorrow. It doesn't care if a bigger dragon will eat it, or if another male dragon wants to mate with it."
Hoffa gripped him tighter, shouting, "A dragon only cares about whether it can eat, whether it can raise enough offspring, and whether those offspring can survive."
"Get off! I never said that!"
Norbert struggled with all his might, his muscles spasming.
"I don't remember! I don't remember!"
"You still have offspring. Your life's purpose is not yet fulfilled!"
Hoffa yelled, pointing at Rubeus, who was standing outside, his terrified face peeking in.
"Your son, he might do something extraordinary in the future! Are you just going to bury his future here?"
Those words hit home, and Norbert froze. His tense, rigid body gradually loosened.
Hoffa stood up, watching Norbert lying amidst the bottles, panting for breath. "Listen, I can help you become the greatest dragon tamer, but you have to follow my plan."
Finally, Norbert, covering his face, let out a sorrowful, beast-like wail. He slammed his head heavily against the ground.
Hoffa said nothing. He simply stood by, silently waiting, quietly observing.
After what seemed like an eternity, Norbert, with great pain and struggle, stood up, leaning against a haystack. His bruised face lifted slowly, and he asked, "Do you have a plan?"
(End of Chapter)
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