Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

When Hoffa opened his eyes again, he felt utterly cold. I wonder if this winter was exceptionally cold, or if he hadn't felt the temperature for too long. Maybe it's both.

He slowly got up from the bed, his body made a clicking sound, it was bones colliding with each other.

The Office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts was in a mess, some ropes were scattered on the table, and the ground was messed up. It seems to have experienced some violent conflict.

The cold wind blew in from the window, about half an hour before dawn, and there was an undetectable weeping sound in the cold wind. It was Shining House Elf. It was crying in the corner of the office.

"What happened?" Hoffa asked when he walked to the elf, and he was taken aback by his own voice as soon as he spoke. His voice was dull and dull, as if he was not himself.

"Master... the master is gone... and the little master is gone..."

Shining wept and pointed to the scattered ropes on the ground.

Hoffa looked around, but really didn't find Batty.

Bah la.

A soft sound.

Miller took control of Moody's body and stood up, lighting the fireplace in the office.

With the light flickering in the fireplace, Hoffa caught a glimpse of himself on the glass.

A few months have passed, and his hair that was burned in the fire has grown out. It’s just that he stayed in Helheim for too long and consumed too many lives. At this moment, he has gone from the previous dozens of years. The year-old boy turned into a middle-aged man with apathetic eyes, gray hair hanging down from his thin forehead, deep decree lines on his cheeks are a pair of deep sunken golden eyes, he is more than ever before. Haggard.

"Battie Jr. was taken away by his father."

Hoffa said to Miller, who was squatting in front of the fireplace.

"When is the time, do you still have time to control him?" Miller said feebly: "Did you hear what Aglaia said? Six thousand times, Merlin Beard...what are we going through?"

"Yes."

Hoffa whispered, and he looked at his withered hands, unusually calm: "Six thousand times, if my fate is repeated six thousand times, then the fate of Barty Jr. and his father repeats six thousand times."

"Father-killing."

"It's not just the killing of the father, but both are heading for destruction."

Hoffa thought that in the original book, the old Batty was killed, and the young Batty was also sucked up by the dementor to die. This fate is probably one of the 6,000 cycles, irreversible and irreversible.

"What are you thinking, Hoffa, what shall we do next!?" Miller threw away the tongs and rubbed his head anxiously.

"The previous method won't work, it makes no sense. I have to go to Dumbledore, to anyone I know."

Hoffa put down his palms, and the flames in his golden eyes rekindled: "I have always avoided being discovered by Dumbledore, but that must have become part of the death restraint of my destiny. I must break the routine and find all the ways to get out of the deadlock. ."

After that, he got up and left the Office of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Miller hurriedly followed behind him: "How do you know you didn't think that way six thousand times before? I mean, if you think that way, then you must be the others Would think so."

"Then what better advice do you have?"

"I suggest you don't do anything and find a place to live in seclusion. No matter what it is."

"How do you know that I didn't listen to you six thousand times before?"

Hoffa kept walking.

......

At this time, Hogwarts had just dawned, but the sky was so gloomy that no sunlight was visible, and the frosty snow was so hard that it would make a creaking sound when running on it. In the morning, the students shrank tightly in their robes, and ran hurriedly holding the books, their faces expressionless.

It should be the end of Christmas at this moment, the second project of the Triwizard Tournament is over, and the third project has not yet started. The castle is full of students from other magic schools. Durmstrang’s students wore thick brown-black cloaks, and Bussbarton’s students wore silver-gray tasseled robes.

When passing by those students, Hoffa began to feel a little confused. Although there were many students in the school, there were no words between the students. In the school of Norwegian University, no one spoke quietly, which inevitably caused People are frightened.

"what's happening?"

He asked Miller.

"It's like that since Christmas."

Miller replied, "I don't know what happened."

The silent stream of people quietly passed by the two of them with their textbooks in their hands, and went to the school auditorium. Precisely without any friction, like a puppet under the tie.

"hateful!"

Hoffa strode against the flow of people and walked to the top of the castle. I don’t know when the bustling magic school was transformed into a weird center. He is very eager to get out of that **** cycle and change his own destiny. If he can, he also hopes to change the destiny of the people around him, including these students who have fallen into dreams. But he didn't know what to do, so he could only pin his hopes on Dumbledore.

Before he reached the top floor, he saw a lot of journalists from the Wizarding Society. They gathered in rows at the front of Dumbledore, holding the spotlight, pushing and shoving, noisy and yelling, and they looked more normal than the quiet students. too much.

"what's happening?"

Hoffa searched for memory, but he couldn't remember that this kind of thing happened in the original book. For the first time in history, there was a deviation from his cognition, which made him both worried and happy.

After a while, an old man with white hair wearing a pointed wizard hat and an off-white robe walked down the spiral staircase in the office. It was the current principal of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor, Professor Dumbledore!"

Hoffa called to Dumbledore. He separated from the crowd and strode to Dumbledore's side. He pressed his shoulder and turned him around, "Professor Dumbledore, it's me, do you still know me?"

"

Everyone around looked at Hoffa who suddenly appeared with surprise. Dumbledore's blue eyelids drooped, looking at him through half-moon lenses, his blue eyes gleaming with confusion.

Dumbledore’s unwavering appearance made Hoffa uneasy, but at this time, he didn’t take much care of it. He immediately posted to Dumbledore’s ear: "Listen, you have to stop the Triwizard Tournament, this game. It was the opportunity of Tom Riddle's resurrection. He asked me to come over, turn the door key into a trophy, and send Harry Potter over at the end of the game so that he can be resurrected."

Huo Fafei said very quickly: "If you don't want to see someone die or see the outbreak of a future war, you must stop the game now."

After speaking in one breath, Hoffa's heart throbbed, and he looked at Dumbledore expectantly, hoping that he could believe his words and make changes immediately.

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile after listening. He patted Hoffa on the shoulder: "I understand, you will wait a while, and I will talk to you after I finish the press conference."

After speaking, he did not wait for Hoffa to express his opinion. Stretching his hands together, he said to the reporter: "Listen well, I want to announce today's important event."

Suddenly, the reporters under them boiled. They raised the spotlights in their hands, and they exposed rounds of white light, almost blinding people's eyes.

Hoffa was very weak during the day, and it was even more uncomfortable to see the dazzling white light. He had to cover his eyes and hide in the corner. But after seeing Dumbledore, he had a bottom in his heart. If he could get his help, he should have a high chance of breaking the **** cycle.

I only heard Dumbledore say: "This year, the Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts as scheduled. So far, it has been a great success. Our four warriors have overcome all obstacles and completed two difficult challenges, and the Wizarding Society Also expressed corresponding concern to us, but this level of attention is far from enough..."

After a pause, he laughed: "For this reason, I announce that on the night of the finals, all spectators who come to Hogwarts to watch the finals of the Triwizard Tournament will not only be exempt from tickets, but also get 100 gold plus Long’s one-person reward, for this, we even have a super prize of 10,000 gold gallons, a free lottery draw for all audiences, and all audiences who come to watch the game have a chance to win..."

Hoffa in the corner is stupid, what! ?

He looked at Dumbledore smiling in the crowd, unable to say a word for a long while.

When Dumbledore finished reading a long period of rewards, the reporters boiled over, and they handed the microphone to Dumbledore one after another.

"Principal Dumbledore, are you true!?"

"Did the Ministry of Magic agree to your move?"

"When will the last match start?"

"What drove you to make this decision?"

......

Hoffa carefully held the old man in the crowd, and finally noticed something strange. The elderwood wand that Dumbledore had inserted around his waist was just as if there was a certain dark energy spilling out at this moment. The energy is completely imperceptible to the naked eye.

Seeing the strangeness between the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore, Hoffa's heart fell straight down to the bottom. The hope that had just been born was instantly shattered. He thought that the night he had just met Miller, he broke into Dumbledore’s office by mistake. Dumbledore at that time was a bit strange. Now, he faintly realized what was going on. .

Surrounded by reporters, Dumbledore even glanced at Hoffa and smiled. Hoffa's inner anxiety immediately expanded into fear. It was daytime, and he did not have any frontal combat capabilities.

A pair of hands held him in the crowd, and when he looked back, it was Miller.

"let's go."

Miller stared at Dumbledore with Moody's magical eye, took Hoffa and turned away, walking towards the outside of the castle without looking back.

The two hurried down the swaying magic ladder, and Dumbledore, who was surrounded by reporters holding the spotlight, did not stop them, and did not even look at them again.

"Dumbledore is already under control, we have to get out of here quickly." Miller said irritably.

"He can't recognize me anymore."

Hoffa thought of the last time we met, Dumbledore was constantly taking the memory out of his mind, maybe the memory about himself still fifty years ago had been taken out by him and sealed in a glass bottle.

"I shouldn't have come to you, you a plague," Miller said irritably, "Anyone who has a relationship with you can't escape bad luck. Maybe that's what he thinks. It's safer to forget you."

Hearing Miller say this, Hoffa was relieved instead.

He thought of Agleia's 300,000 years in Helheim, and the small setbacks he had experienced were nothing to mention. He had to find a way to change the cycle.

"Then why don't you send yourself a message and forget it?"

He let go of Miller's hand and even walked in front of him. Miller looked at his back with dissatisfaction and helplessly pouted his lips.

When I walked to the gate of the castle, the temperature in the air was lower, and the sunlight in the sky was the same as fake, which would not bring any warmth to people.

Even worse, a cold call came from behind.

"Where are you going, Bach?"

Hoffa froze, and Miller, who was disguised as Alastor Moody, also stopped moving. A man in a cage was sitting by the fountain in the school yard, holding a book that had not been finished. , He put away his books and stood up slowly. Came to the two of them silently:

"I thought Helheim could shut you down. I didn't expect you to escape."

"Grindelwald."

Hoffa stepped back slowly, but he was not surprised. If even Dumbledore could be controlled, then he could not think of anyone other than him.

He looked at the sky and drew a tube of septic medicine from his waist.

"This is what you want to do. Use the Triwizard Tournament to attract the attention of wizards from all over Europe, and then gather them to Hogwarts, so that you can catch them all in one go?"

Grindelwald: "That's right, that's what I mean."

"How did you do it? When was Dumbledore controlled by you?"

"Even the greatest wizard will be tempted one day, not to mention that in my eyes, Albus Dumbledore has never been a great wizard."

As Grindelwald said, a dark crowd surrounded from all directions from Hogwarts. They were wearing shabby black clothes and holding magic wands with expressionless faces.

Grindelwald shrugged:

"What should be said is over, the rest is life and death."

The moment the wand was raised, Hoffa did not hesitate to raise the bottle of sepsis potion and pour it into his mouth with his head up. The potion had just been lifted, and a heavy shot fell on his head, smashing the septic potion in his hand to smash.

Grindelwald shot, he was shot more than 20 meters away, rolled on the ground several times, and fell among the students.

The student holding the book passed him silently without making any sound.

Hoffa got up from the ground and saw hundreds of spells. They shot from all directions like lasers, illuminating his face, and he had no room for resistance during the day.

But before the spells fell on his face, Miller appeared in front of him and raised his wand. The space was twisted and twisted, and hundreds of spells were transferred to the sky above the forbidden forest in the distance, and fireworks exploded in the dark sky.

"Little Goshak, are you going to take action against your father?"

Grindelwald stood on the high stone steps, looked condescendingly at Aristo Moody's body, and sneered: "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't exist at all."

"Don't expect me to be grateful for that, Grindelwald, existence is not easy."

Miller held up his wand and said back to Hoffa.

"Come on, you know the secret way, behind the Gregory statue."

"what would you do!?"

Hoffa asked Miller anxiously.

"Don't worry about me, he can't kill me, you go to solve the problem!"

Miller said, flicking his wand, a translucent ring-shaped spell appeared around, obscuring everyone's vision, "Quickly go."

"Damn it!"

Hoffa looked at the broken glass in his hand and the rising sun, knowing that it would only be a drag on Miller if he carried it on.

He tore off his clothes, covered his face, and stumbled away from the center of the conflict under the cover of smoke.