Chapter 408: The Original Heart Remains Unchanged

The intense heartache overshadowed everything.

In a daze, Hoffa felt as if he had returned to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Carrying his backpack, he gazed at the ancient station's brick wall. Beside it, a blue-eyed girl was asking him for directions.

"I'm looking for Platform 9. Do you know where it is?"

Hoffa slowly lowered his head and saw that familiar silver-haired girl.

However, the excitement and nervousness he had felt upon their first meeting were now completely gone.

All that remained was deep confusion and bewilderment.

"Hey, I'm looking for Platform 9. Can you hear me?"

"There is no Platform 9. There is no such thing in this world," Hoffa murmured.

"Huh?! Aren't you a Hogwarts student?" The silver-haired girl placed her hands on her hips, clearly dissatisfied.

"Am I?" Hoffa looked down at his hands in confusion.

His palms were like weathered statues—dry, covered in cracks.

Hogwarts? He felt like he had heard that name somewhere before. But what did it have to do with him?

"I don't know," he replied.

"You don't know?? Whoa! I've never met someone like you before. You've successfully caught my attention!" The silver-haired girl grabbed his arm.

"I've decided! I'll be the one to give you your acceptance letter. Come on, I'll take you to the magic school!"

The scene blurred like ink spreading on paper. Hoffa, like a ghostly observer, watched as the silver-haired girl went around asking people questions before finally dragging him through Platform 9.

Hoffa stared blankly at her, as if his soul had left his body. He had become a ghost watching himself stand at the station, lost and hollow. He saw the girl chattering excitedly, saw her once again boasting on the train.

"Which house do you want to be in?" the silver-haired girl asked enthusiastically.

"Which house?"

"Yeah, one of the four houses. Which one do you want to join?"

"As long as it's not the one you're in," Hoffa murmured.

"Huh? What's wrong with you? Did I do something to offend you? Let me tell you something—out of the four houses, Ravenclaw is the only one worth joining. If anyone had a choice, they should choose to be an eagle soaring in the sky. Why would anyone want to be a snake, a badger, or a lion? Eagles get to fly freely—don't you think so? Hey… hey, are you even listening?"

Hoffa listened dazedly. He no longer cared about her childish words. At this moment, his heart felt like an eroded castle, with cracks forming one after another. It was the relentless carving of time and the world. It was the wounds of fate, torn open again and again, never able to heal.

He slowly stood up from his seat and walked aimlessly toward the train's exit.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I just want to take a walk," Hoffa muttered.

"Fine, but don't take too long!" the silver-haired girl said grumpily.

"Okay."

Holding onto the shaking train carriage, Hoffa subconsciously moved forward, heading toward another familiar compartment.

In that compartment, he saw a gentle-looking girl sitting quietly with a book in her hands, round glasses resting on her nose, as if she had been waiting for something all along.

With just one glance, a searing pain pierced through Hoffa's heart. He stood at the doorway, wanting to turn away, but his feet felt rooted to the ground, refusing to move.

The girl inside the compartment sensed his gaze and lifted her head from the thick book, glancing at him indifferently before lowering her head again to continue reading.

Hoffa stood foolishly by the door, wanting to leave but unable to. His body refused to obey.

After a while, the girl reading sighed, stood up, and walked to the door, pulling it open for him.

The movement was so natural, so seamless—it was as if they had done this countless times before.

"Getting changed?" she asked.

Hoffa looked at the school robe in his hands and instinctively nodded.

"Go ahead, we're almost there."

She pulled the curtain for him and stepped out of the compartment, leaning against the door.

From inside the compartment, Hoffa reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her back.

"I have to ask, why don't you just change in another compartment?"

The girl suddenly turned her head and asked.

Inside the door, Hoffa felt as though a sword had pierced his chest. What was he even doing?

What was fate doing? If there had to be an answer to all of this in the end, where was it?

"I'm sorry," he muttered blankly behind the door. "I'm sorry."

The girl, holding her book, turned around and looked at Hoffa through the glass door. Tilting her head slightly, she stepped back inside.

"Don't know how to take off your clothes?"

She asked, "Didn't your mother teach you?"

Hoffa simply stared at her, dazed. His heart shattered into countless pieces inside his chest.

What was he doing? What had he done? Were those rules really that important? Were those concepts, invented by others, truly worth obeying?

Was it really worth it—to struggle endlessly over these contradictions, over these unsolvable conflicts?

"Lift your arms," the girl instructed.

Hoffa instinctively raised his hand. His clothes were lifted from his body and removed, and then that familiar school robe was draped over his head. The girl pulled his robe down from his head and tidied up his collar.

Then, she took out her wand and waved it casually. The clothes Hoffa had taken off neatly folded themselves into a perfect stack, as precise as a block of tofu.

Watching the girl wave her wand, meticulously folding his discarded clothes, Hoffa could no longer hold back his tears. He had seen this gesture countless times in his dreams. What did those decades of silent companionship truly mean?

Why did fate have to toy with him like this?

Time and time again, it gave him hope, only to let him down, and in the end, leave him in despair.

Again and again.

Again and again.

Everything around him blurred into a misty haze.

Hoffa knelt inside the carriage, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to breathe.

If he could, he would rather never have come into this world.

If he could, he would rather never have known Hogwarts.

If he could, he would rather never have met those two girls.

"So, does that mean you regret it?"

A voice asked curiously.

Hoffa looked up. The moving carriage had suddenly stopped. Another Hoffa was looking at him with curiosity. He had the same face, the same eyes, the same nose—but his expression was calm and indifferent, an expression that had no place on Hoffa Bach's face at this moment.

But Hoffa no longer had the strength to be angry. The immense grief had swallowed him whole.

"Do you regret meeting them?" The other Hoffa asked.

"How could I not? How could I not regret it? Tell me—how can I not regret it?"

Hoffa choked on his words. "If I had never met them, they would have lived happily at Hogwarts, safely graduated. There would have been challenges, but they would have found jobs, gotten married, had children. Why… why… was it my presence that turned their once-happy futures into tragedies?"

He tore open his clothes, revealing the broken body and shattered soul beneath. Pointing at his chest, he cried, "Look at me! Look at what I've become! I'm barely human anymore! I've completely fallen apart!"

"Yes… You really are pathetic."

The other Hoffa said, "But if that's the case, why did they still choose to do what they did?"

"I don't know… Don't ask me… I don't know anything anymore… I don't deserve to… I don't deserve to… It's too heavy, too heavy…"

"Do you regret it?" The future version of himself gazed at the scenery outside the carriage and said softly, "There was a time when I regretted it too."

"I never asked them," he continued, "but I think… maybe they never broke down and wept like you and I. Maybe they didn't have your strength. Maybe they didn't have your extraordinary talent. Maybe, without your presence, they really would have lived an ordinary, unremarkable life.

But Hoffa… it seems they never regretted it."

Hoffa gradually stopped crying. He realized something.

"If you had a choice, would you do it all over again?" Another figure identical to Hoffa appeared in the carriage, gazing out the window. "Would we still come to this world?"

Tears streamed down Hoffa's face as he looked at himself. "If I could do it all over again, would I even have the chance? Would I be able to stand up again? Look at me! Look at my heart! My strength, my talent—what do I have left to help them? What do I have left to repay them?"

"Tell me." The man asked, "What is all of this for?"

The mist slowly faded. Miranda, now dressed, took Hoffa by the wrist and led him out of the carriage.

Until the train arrived at its destination. Hoffa saw, in the distance, the Black Lake illuminated by countless lights. Hogwarts' dark castle shimmered beneath the night sky. A silver-haired girl sat in a boat, waving at him.

Miranda stepped onto the boat first, then reached out her hand toward Hoffa.

"Come on," she said.

At that moment, an indescribable warmth surged through Hoffa's heart, gradually mending his shattered soul. He finally understood what he had been missing all along.

He finally understood why he had never been able to make himself whole.

"They love me."

Hoffa reached out as if trying to touch the castle, as if trying to touch the girl on the boat. With tears in his eyes, he whispered softly.

"Yes, they love me."

A shadowy figure stood beside Hoffa, speaking in unison with him.

"How should we repay them?"

"The same way they did." Hoffa said. The answer was so simple.

If he could, he would give everything for their happiness.

If he could, he would forget all the rules.

If he could, he would sacrifice everything.

Sell his soul. Burn his body.

Whatever it took.

As long as he could change fate.

As long as they could be happy.

"…Ah. Yes."

The shadow extended a hand, clasping Hoffa's.

"Hoffa Bach, do you regret coming into this world?"

Hoffa shook his head.

"Even after enduring such nightmares, even if your wishes remain unfulfilled, even if you've seen the end of fate, even if you are covered in wounds, even if you have hurt others—you still don't regret coming into this world?"

Hoffa shook his head. "It was my choice to come."

"Why?"

The shadow, its eyes shining with piercing white light, asked.

Hoffa answered, "Because I want to repay them."

(End of Chapter)

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