Harry Potter – I’m The Legend

Hoffa feels like he is dying.

Not only the scorching sun that brought him during the day, but also some subtle and irreversible changes in his body.

Under the sun of 1994 in London, he could see the surface of his skin, and some tiny lenses were being produced. Those lenses were growing and spreading little by little, and it didn't take long before the knuckles of his right hand became transparent.

Sister Chloe once told him, except for her. From the beginning of birth, everyone's position in time and space is determined. If they move without authorization, time flare will occur. The longer they exist in the alien space, the more fragile the logical chain that maintains his existence.

The last time, just two or three days ago, he almost died under the time flares. The feeling of powerlessness facing Time Law is still fresh today.

And this time, fifty years later.

When the time flare once again sounded the clarion call, Chloe was already not in. Alone stepped on a completely unfamiliar land. He couldn't think of any way to keep himself alive.

Go back fifty years ago? Go to Dumbledore? I thought that even Dumbledore couldn't make him go back fifty years ago. Even if he wanted to, it was impossible to build another Arrow of Time in just two days.

What can be done? If there are only two days of life left.

Five years ago, if you asked him what he would do when he came to Harry Potter's World, he would probably say eloquently, like Hermione, Voldemort, and so on.

But now, looking at the poster of "This Killer Is Not So Cold" in front of him, he just wants to order a cup of popcorn, a glass of ice cola, and another hamburger, sitting in the most comfortable position In the cinema, quietly waiting for the arrival of death.

There is not one of the most negative transmigrator in history.

Thinking about this, Hoffa actually laughed at himself. This is probably some kind of emotional compensation mechanism. The brain is subconsciously preventing people from collapsing because of too much despair.

Just do it.

He stood up in a daze, ignoring the strange eyes of others, and each minding their own business walked towards the cinema in the distance.

But when he walked slowly to the entrance of the cinema, he found another problem that was not a problem.

He has no money.

His clothes were changed at Miranda's house fifty years ago, and later became tattered as a result of the battle. Even if he put a few money in his pocket, it would have been burned out long ago.

Of course, he can use magic to cheat some money or conjure some counterfeit money.

But that makes no sense.

You still have to harm people before you die. It's so boring to do that.

He saw the refined antique necklace in his hand, which was the only thing he owned, and then looked at a McDonald’s store next to him, thinking that he might be able to exchange it for a glass of ice-cola.

So he walked into the store, but as soon as he entered, he was pushed out by a fat salesgirl with a pocky face with upturned nostrils. She pointed to the long line at the counter. : "Don't you see that you are busy, go go go, I have no time to entertain the homeless."

Hoffa, who was pushed out of the glass door, was not angry at all. He turned around and asked, "You guys... Did you win World War II?"

Stunned for a second.

"Mental disorder."

The fat woman waved the rag for wiping the table, splashing lettuce leaves on Hoffa's face, and said slowly and bitterly, "There is a problem. Ask your teachers to see that you are like a hooligan who has dropped out of high school and has nothing to do."

.....

Outside the McDonald’s dinning hall, Hoffa is holding a necklace and sitting on the street in the afternoon. On the red fire hydrant, looking aimlessly at the passing vehicles. At this moment, the time flare on the back of his hand has expanded to his forearm, and most of his thumb to elbow is transparent.

He has long been accustomed to the devastation of World War II, but he is very strange to this living world that should have been familiar.

Britain is still Britain, the movies that should be made are no less, the electrical appliances that should be invented are the same, and the things that should happen still happen.

Germany did not win. Even if he died in two days, Germany still did not win. Grindelwald failed to achieve the goal of making the world feel painful, which shows that his existence is actually insignificant. It is the same with him or without him.

"It's really ironic."

He lightly saying, "So I am nothing."

Shua! !

tone barely fell, accompanied by a sudden noise of tires rubbing the ground. A sulky yellow Lamborghini Diablo parked in front of the McDonald's store.

It has square-shaped eyes, a huge air intake grille and a long tail wing, and the butt makes a puff of exhaust sound, dripping outwards.

Pedestrians on the side turned their heads in the direction where the sound came from, and the drivers who drove looked at the wide monster with wide eyes, showing envy, while the children jumped up and down, whispering in excitement. The sound from under the hood interrupted the voices of other people on the street.

Although Hoffa is on the verge of death at this moment, although Hoffa has just come to this era from fifty years ago, he still digs out some information about this car from the dusty memory. Diablo, produced in 1991...one of the top luxury cars of the 90s.

Bang.

The door of the car opened upwards, and a hoarse and cheerful man's voice came from the car: "My dear, you can get down here."

"Hey, go to Oxford. Where's the street shopping?"

The woman said dissatisfiedly.

"Aiya, today is just a coincidence, I have to pick up a friend."

"You can't tell me in advance, where do I go now?"

"Go shopping, go shopping, drink coffee, whatever you want."

The husky man's voice became a little perfunctory.

"I don't."

The woman said forcefully.

"Take it, the password is your birthday."

The man said casually, and stuffed something into her hand.

"Do you remember my birthday!?"

The woman said in surprise.

"Uh...maybe..."

"hmph, I hate it, I just like your indifferent attitude towards me, Trojan horse !"

With a kiss that made passers-by envy, there was a hot fragrance. A pair of big, long legs stepped down from the luxury car and flashed past Hoffa.

It was a strange woman wearing sunglasses, carrying a famous brand bag, and looking arrogantly all around. Her jeweled face was almost written with four characters, I am a supermodel.

This kind of picture is not surprising in later generations of London. The war is over, the economy is developing rapidly, and there are rich people everywhere, just like in Shanghai or Beijing in the 21st century. When you see this kind of picture, you probably curse in your heart, damn guy, or rich. After being able to act wilfully, he turned around and left unwillingly, blaming God for not giving himself a good baby.

Hoffa drooped his head and didn't care about a sports car or a model. He didn't care about anything because he was going to die.

But the sports car did not leave, but stopped in front of him and fart.

The owner of the sports car leaned over and shouted to the gray-haired boy sitting on the fire hydrant outside the car door: "Hey, can't you get in?"

Sudden tingling in the arm, Hoffa Frown.

The guy driving the sports car saw that he didn't respond, so he honked his horn, and the yellow Lamborghini Diablo made a loud cry.

Hoffa slowly lifts the head. He saw an old man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap staring at him in the open gull-wing door. He was wearing a simple white T and blue. The cowboy honked his horn happily: "young man, don't be so negative, come in and sit down."

Hoffa glanced at his side, the Lamborghini made an unpleasant fart sound again, puff puff.

old man helpless: "Look at who, I'm talking to you."

Passers-by stopped one after another, showing surprised expressions.

They can’t just sit on the manhole cover and beg. They are in tatters, a gray chicken coop, and a mess of dust on their faces. The guy in front of him is in touch with the shining luxury car. Together.

The female employee cleaning the table in the hamburger restaurant saw the scene outside the glass, and her chin did not fall to the floor. I don't understand why the owner of that rare luxury car wants a homeless man to sit in.

Even the tall model, who had walked away for several steps, pulled down his glasses in surprise, and his mouth with expensive lipstick turned into an O shape.

Hoffa still has no response.

The old man in the car was a little helpless. He got out from the other side and saw that under his waistcoat was a healthy, bronzed complexion. He was tall and looked powerful.

After that, he came forward in three steps and two steps, grabbed Hoffa's arm, and dragged him into the car involuntarily.

Lamborghini and the Hoffa with its humble interior chrome, which does not match the appearance, gave off a groan, and there was a strong perfume scent in the carriage, which made the chest tight. He hadn't realized what was going on yet, it was severe pain. It rushed to the body again.

There was a faint ka-cha click, and he could feel his chest crystallizing rapidly. His existence is becoming more and more illogical, and his body is rapidly disintegrating under the power of the arrow of time.

Boom!

The door of the Lamborghini is closed.

The vehicle burst out with a roar on the streets of London.

Acceleration pressed Hoffa on the back of the chair. He turned his head and looked at the driver's seat beside him. The old man wearing a baseball cap and a white T said in a dark voice: "What are you doing?"

"Don't you ask who I am?"

The old man asked with a smile while holding the steering wheel.

"Whoever you are has nothing to do with me."

Hoffa said slowly, and he looked at his arm.

By looking through the glass of the car window, his right has almost disappeared in the sun, as if it were made of glass, only some faint blood vessels and skeleton veins can be seen inside.

"Yes, it's a bit proud of me when I was young."

The old man smiled nodded, very happy.

"boasted shamelessly."

Hoffa sneered feebly. He didn't think that an old man driving a sports car and a young model could be mentioned on equal terms with himself.

His pride and experience do not allow anyone to feel like himself, but he is now unable to resist. I don't want to refute. The appearance of duckweed drifting with the flow.

Time flares are eroding his body, and he has entered the countdown phase of his life.

Crack.

When passing by the traffic lights, Lamborghini stopped, and the old man smiled and pulled down his baseball cap and sunglasses, revealing a gray short hair and a pair of faint golden eyes.

He looked at Hoffa with the steering wheel, and said in Chinese: "Am I really boasted shamelessly?"