Harry Potter – I’m The Legend

Before the voice fell, there was another explosion in the distance, mixed with violent gunfire and firefighting. The soldiers stopped talking, set up their weapons and began to shoot into the darkness, as if they were attacking an invisible giant beast.

"Get up, hurry up!"

Hoffa kicked Norbert anxiously, extending the hand.

"Disapparation."

"Damn..."

Norbert scrambled up from the ground and grabbed Hoffa's wrist.

The sky is illuminated by fire again. Norbert didn't hesitate, he grabbed Hoffa's wrist with his backhand.

pa pa!

With a loud explosion, the two disappeared.

Leave a group of soldiers holding their guns tú ​​tú and shooting into the darkness suddenly, the orange-yellow bullets are like countless bright yellow lightning, flying in the air.

City area. Norbert pulled Hoffa and stumbled out of Disapparation. At this moment, air defense sirens flooded the streets of Paris.

Pedestrians scattered on the road and fled, and a large number of trampled fruits and vegetables were scattered on the street. Some war horses tied to the poles screamed desperately because of their fright.

The soldiers on the streets and alleys jumped into the jeep one after another, and dozens of military jeeps, with dazzling spotlights on, galloped across the street, rolling up large stocks of dust.

"Go on! Hurry up!"

Norbert urged in front.

Hoffa hurriedly caught up with Norbert, who was almost gone.

Norbert took Hoffa very skillfully and turned left and right into a narrow alley. Here, he opened a heavy wooden door of a church and pushed Hoffa in.

Close the thick wooden door, and the sound of the alarm outside the door became low.

This is probably the corridor that bishop used to transport goods some day ago, and it looks quite clean.

Norbert leaned against the door and took a few heavy breaths, then he kicked the trash can with an annoyed kick.

"This group of damn muggles will not be cleaned for a few days."

The scraps of paper flew around, and Norbert lost his temper in the tunnel of the church.

Hoffa looked at her irritable companion and fell into thinking. It is now 1942, and the center of the muggle conflict has shifted to the Soviet Union. Why did the fight suddenly start again?

Thinking about it, he didn't sort out any clues.

Norbert was still annoyed on the sidelines: "Now it’s fine, after using Disapparation, what do those German wizards who are stationed in find out?"

"Perceived doesn’t mean you can find it immediately. Come here."

Hoffa comforted: "We still have time to run."

"Run, run again, where do you want to go this time, Antarctica?"

Norbert said angrily.

Hoffa was amused: "If you go to Antarctica, you have to retrieve the stolen weapon first, and lead the way."

The two walked forward along the narrow tunnel. This tunnel is not empty. Before they went far, they saw a black man sitting in a chair drinking beer. The black man greeted Norbert as he passed by.

Gradually, more and more people gathered in the tunnel.

These people are a bit tired and lazy, with bad eyes and fierce faces. They either drink alcohol or wipe their weapons. At first glance, it is the guy who is asking for life in the black zone.

Some also wore monastery clothes, dressed up like priests, standing on wooden boxes, chanting eulogy impassionedly, and promoting religion and belief.

When the two reached the corner of the tunnel, a big black man with tattoos came out from the other corner. There are two sharp blades stuck in his waist. He carried an assault rifle on his back.

"Hey, Hoffa. Hey, Norbert."

The black brawny man greeted Hoffa in English.

"Yo, Gump."

Hoffa briefly nodded him.

"Did you just see the explosion outside?"

The tall black man asked with some lingering fear.

Hoffa nodded: "I saw it."

"It’s been a long time, why did it start again today."

"This is wartime, It’s not strange to fight anywhere."

Hoffa said.

"It seems to be the same..."

The black man pondered for a moment, and then curiously asked: "Where are you going so late?"

Hoffa did not answer.

"Go to Durant."

Norbert replied.

"Are you looking for him too?"

The black man walked in a little surprised and asked.

"Why, someone else is looking for him."

Norbert asked.

"I heard that Britain Ministry of Magic is also sending someone to look for him recently."

"Britain Ministry of Magic sends someone to look for Durant?"

Norbert's eyes widened.

"Almost."

The black man replied: "It's just these two days. One of my subordinates received a wizard from Britain at the station two days ago, and she got off the train. Just ask Durant’s location."

Norbert immediately asked vigilantly: "What's the situation?"

"Do you think those people will tell me?"

The black man shrugged his shoulders: "I'm not interested. The matter of your British people has nothing to do with me."

After finishing talking, he got out of a corridor at the corner of the tunnel and disappeared. The end of the corridor.

After the black friend left, Norbert's expression became a little gloomy and uncertain: "The Ministry of Magic is looking for Durant, what do you think?"

Hoffa pondered for a moment, frowned:

"The guy Durant is greedy for life and fear of death. In case Ministry of Magic is found along the way, he will have to spread the news that we made weapons privately."

Norbert: "The Ministry of Magic knows you are here, what do they want to do?"

"Who knows, but in any case, he should be found before the Ministry of Magic."

......

......

In half an hour.

Hoffa and Norbert got out of the tunnel one after the other.

They came to the East 20th District of this city.

At this moment, the rain has stopped, and a huge half-moon is hanging high in the air.

In the blue and black night of France, churches and monasteries are as tall as clouds. The spires of those ancient buildings are covered with statues of all kinds of strange things. They present a kind of weirdness in the night. The appearance of the classics.

The chaos in the outer city has not yet spread to this side, it looks like a calm and tranquil look here. I can only hear gunshots like firecrackers in the distance occasionally.

But this is commonplace in the war years.

The two walked around a monastery that had been bombed into ruins and came to a shabby bar in a corner of the city.

The swaying neon flickers.

A few black men with guns at the entrance of the bar are checking in and out of the crowd.

Hoffa shook his arm, and the magic power augmentation glove deformed into a mouse. It jumped from his palm, got into the bar in the blink of an eye, and disappeared among several black people.

Detecting Hoffa and Norbert coming, the black men holding rifles immediately surrounded them with fierce faces.

"Hand over all the weapons."

Norbert drew the pistol and placed it on the black man's hand.

The black man is still not satisfied. Pressing Norbert and Hoffa on the wall is a mess.

Hoffa and Norbert did not resist. They opened their arms and accepted an inspection similar to an airplane security check. They entered the bar without any influence at all.

The bar was filled with a strong and weird smell. A group of white people blushed and spit out smoke, and the air was filled with a choking smell of smoke. There were some female waitresses with exposed bodies and colorful makeup, most of them were very young, with numb smiles on their faces.

There is a dance floor in the middle of the bar. In the middle of the dance floor, there are several black beauties and white women dancing pole dancing with their upper bodies exposed. Some francs and Marks were scattered under their feet.

Hoffa has long been familiar with this ethos. In to-and-fro's thigh, he bent down in the crowd, pretending to tie his shoelaces.

A black mouse sprang out of the dark, returned to Hoffa's arm, and changed back to the magic power booster glove.

He stood up, Norbert pressed against his shoulder, and whispered:

"Wait for me first, I will go to Durant, and I will give you a signal after finding him. That guy hasn't seen you before, so let's give him a surprise."

Hoffa nodded, didn't speak much, and went straight to the bar.

Norbert disappeared sideways into the dancing crowd.

Behind the bar, a rickety old black bartender wiped the cup and saw Hoffa coming. He habitually asked: "What do you want?"

At this moment, a tall man Of women walked out of the dark. Sitting next to Hoffa.

"Whiskey, excuse me."

So Hoffa also said: "Give me a glass of whiskey."

So the bartender brought two glasses of whiskey with ice. The tall woman next to her took the cup and smiled, holding the cup and touching Hoffa's cup.

"Good evening."

She said in French.

"Good evening."

Hoffa didn't smile, raised the cup and dipped his lips with a drink, then put it back into the cup.

"You seem to be young."

The woman said with a smile.

"It's okay."

Hoffa said with a polite smile.

"Where are you from, do you come out to play alone?"

The atmosphere in France is very open, or in other words, the atmosphere in the bar is very open.

"Work, not play."

Hoffa appears honest and distant.

He is not used to drinking, and he is too lazy to strike up a conversation with others. He may have more important things to do later, and he must remain absolutely sober.

"What work do you want to do in a bar?"

The woman put her hand on Hoffa's shoulder, looking very curious.

Hoffa raised his eyelids and glanced at the palm of his shoulder, then looked towards the owner of the palm. This is a very strange-looking bald woman, wearing gray clothes, with a high nose and big eyes, and she is pretty.

But precisely because the other person is so good-looking, he feels something is abnormal. It stands to reason that most beautiful girls will not take the initiative.

He said slowly: "You really do a lot."

The bald woman was not angry either, she shrugged and let go, "You are quite tall. It's cold."

After speaking, she walked around him with the goblet.

Hoffa didn't care about this episode, but when the bald woman left, he noticed a strange sense of peeping. He couldn't help looking back, but he didn't notice anyone staring at him. Everyone was immersed in the world of alcohol and sex.

He shook his head and recovered his calm.

People coming, people going in the bar, maybe because I think too much.

Just like that, Hoffa sat on a high stool for half an hour. No matter who saw his appearance, no one was interested in it, but it only attracted the attention of the bartender.

The bartender looked at the weird boy in front of him with a ugly look.

I saw the guy sitting on the high pedals, his eyelids drooped, his fingers lit the table regularly, and a glass of whiskey with ice was placed in front of him. But at this moment the ice in the cup of amber liquor is about to melt, and close and numerous drops of water are condensed on the cup.

Since half an hour ago, this guy came in and sat on the spot without saying a word. He was very perfunctory when the people next to him chatted with him, and he served him a glass of whiskey with ice, and he hadn't moved from start to finish.

The bartender became vigilant.

Most people here are red-faced, smoking cigarettes, complaining about life and war, and look like they are drunk and eating and waiting to die. Occasionally, someone who deliberately pretends to be deep, meets a beautiful woman, and it is revealed.

Working in this kind of place for many years, he can clearly distinguish which people are deliberately pretending to be cool to attract others' attention, and which people are real and abnormal.

Although the young man in front of him is not very old, his face has a rare sobriety and indifference. He looks like that rare guy who doesn't touch alcohol. Why are these guys coming to the bar?

Finally, the bartender who wiped the cup couldn't help it. He put down the cup that he didn't know how many times he wiped it, and intentionally or unconsciously said:

"The days are really bad Now, every day there are massacres, bombings, and deaths. If you want me to say, when is this kind of day?" Hoffa drooped his head and replied: "What does it have to do with you?"

"Why is it okay?"

The bartender intentionally or unconsciously said: "This world is too dangerous. If you want to live for a few more days, you have to think more."

"Forbearance Well, bear with him for a few years, maybe he will be relieved."

He answered absently, thinking about how Norbert had been looking for Durant for so long.

"Are you here and the others?"

The bartender broke the reason Hoffa was sitting.

"Aha."

"Don't you drink?"

The bartender pointed to the whiskey in front of Hoffa.

"Must have a drink at the bar?"

Hoffa asked listlessly.

"Isn't it?"

The bartender used his dark lips to poke around.

At this moment, a male customer rushed onto the dance floor, hugged a stripper, and started kissing wildly. He is probably very rich and hired a lot of people to have a champagne party underneath. The dancer screamed, but her voice was drowned in the sound of champagne jets.

Bartender: "Look, that's a normal person."

Hoffa took out a few franc banknotes impatiently and pushed them over, trying to block this annoying guy with money Unexpectedly, his hand was pressed heavily by the bartender halfway through.

Boom!

The bartender pressed the back of Hoffa's hand and said solemnly: "Don't pretend, you are not here to drink, are you?"

Looking at the dark palm on the back of his hand , Hoffa was slightly surprised at first, and then grinned and sarcastically said: "Why, do you even care about the customer's purpose in your bar?" Under the counter, there was an old pager lying horizontally: "Do you know whose site this is?"

Detecting the other side's small movements, Hoffa simply disinclined to pay attention to, he He tilted his head, "How much did Durant give you, and you care about him so much?"

The bartender picked up the pager, looked at Hoffa and said without blinking: "Come in, There is an unfathomable mystery guy here."

He planned to let someone take the guy in front of him, but as he talked, he felt something was wrong. The young guy was looking at himself with a playful expression.

Turning his head again, he found that he had somehow grasped a wine bottle while talking on the phone.

Such anomalous and absurd scene made him throw away the wine bottle like an electric shock, and reached out to the shotgun hung on the wall.

Just as he was preparing to threaten with a gun, at this moment, a dull roar suddenly came from a distance.

roar!!

With that roar, a silhouette like a cannonball crashed down from the second floor. He smashed the railing and slammed it on the dance floor of the group of ****ers. Smash a pile of wine bottles.

Glass sawdust splashed.

Poker cards and paper money floated slowly from the sky.

Everyone in the bar was stunned by this sudden scene.

The acted coquettishly dancer shrank behind the steel tube in fright, and a few people watching the dancers shed champagne from the corners of their mouths, playing cards holding poker and sitting in a daze.

It was quiet for about three seconds.

The waitresses who were holding the plates reacted. They threw away the plates and screamed while holding their heads.

The high-pitched screams are like the fuse that ignites chaos.

The bar fell into complete chaos in just a second.

The bartender grabbed the shotgun abruptly, Hoffa stood up abruptly, and hit the black bartender with a punch on the nose.

The poor bartender’s insurance hadn’t been opened before he was knocked to the ground by this fist, and he passed out with a spurt of nosebleeds.

Then Hoffa rushed to the center of the mess.

I saw that Norbert, who had just left, was lying in the middle of a pile of broken planks, his left arm twisted into a strange arc, and the corner of his mouth coughed up blood.

On his chest, five huge wounds were engraved, as if he had been scratched by a beast.

Hoffa was shocked and knelt down.

"Hey, Old Guy, what's the matter with you?"

"cough cough...it's okay..."

Norbert's eyes Looking at Hoffa sideways, he struggled to support himself from the ground.

"That guy Durant is a werewolf."