Harry Potter – I’m The Legend

"Be careful, Gilbert, let go of that damn mouse." The old man looked at the rash youngster in dissatisfaction.

"Can the mouse here grow so big?"

The rough boy with yellow hair picked up the barking rodent in his hand. It has two fists. Big.

"Everything here is bigger than other places."

The old man stared at him displeased. A wild dog the size of a lion was bitten off, and now I can’t get it back."

"Maybe it was made by Grindelwald." Gilbert threw away the mouse indifferently and kicked it in the air. Entering the sewer: "Who is better at him or you know who?"

"You can call him you know who, but you can call him by Grindelwald's name, which is enough to explain a lot of problems." The other is carrying it on his back. The middle-aged man with the bag walked over from the stone steps and said quite humorously.

Gilbert twitched his lips, his eyes focused on the distance.

That is the entrance to the top floor of Newmondgaard. With the light of wand, you can see a row of crooked and wild English characters carved in the dark tower entrance like flying snakes.

【For the greater good. ]

"For the greater good, what is the greater good?" Gilbert asked.

"The most evil wizard usually has the most evil purpose, such as you know who, except for Grindelwald. In fact, in the records about him, you rarely see this dark wizard. The persistence of wealth and power is more of an exploration of deep and unmeasurable souls. And why he launched the tragic wizard war fifty years ago is still a huge mystery.” The old man led by The boring tone of the historical teacher said.

"If you lose, you lose. Dumbledore defeated him. Who cares what his purpose is." The middle-aged man said indifferently.

"Well,"

The elderly tutor walking in the forefront indifferent expression: "That being said, I believe that it must happen at the last moment of this dark wizard's life. What caused the massive lack of historical data that prevented us from seeing the full picture of that era."

"So this is what you did, Professor Werther, and brought us to the place where his life was finally imprisoned. "

"After all, we are the researchers of A History of Magic. There is nothing wrong with the evidence."

The three people walked into this abandoned tower one by one. The barking crow remained silent. The only thing that broke the silence at this moment was the rhythm of drums with a rhythm like a heartbeat, and the clutter of footsteps that should go along with the drums. The ground was overgrown with weeds, and there was a layer of white mist that came from nowhere. A large area of ​​the slate and bricks has collapsed in rows, and the moonlight of flickering shines through the cracks and gaps in the roof, making people uneasy.

"By the way, is he really dead?"

The dark cloud covered the moon, and Gilbert shuddered, thinking that this place is the gloomy forest. He just kicked the mouse. Courage is also missing.

"Not sure, Albus. Dumbledore just said that he was imprisoned, and did not say where he was going." The middle-aged man in the team shrugged, grinning said with a smile: "You are scared. Intern?"

"Will he be alive then!" Gilbert said in horror.

"Mark, don't scare him."

The old professor in the lead was a little unhappy and said, "I have been here no less than five or six times, and there has been no one inside. , Austrian Ministry of Magic has stopped transporting supplies here after 1945. Even Spiritual God has starved to death in this long river of time."

"Then you come... ...." Gilbert was relieved and couldn't help rolling the eyes.

......

......

The darkness on all sides is like a cloud of thick ink, on the empty ceiling, Only spiders crawling in rustle.

The man touched his head, but didn't touch his body, only a rusty iron cage of Scabers. His hands bounced away as an electric shock.

Some fragmented images flashed through his mind. It was a bald woman leaning on a wheelchair, a man with red hair in despair, and countless smiles, but lying on the ground unconscious. wizard. Did those things actually happen, or is it just a terrifying dream? Thinking of this, his head immediately aches.

At the same time, several pairs of footsteps sounded in the floor below.

"Huh...what's that?"

The voices in the attic are unrelenting, and some metal cages are rolling.

"I didn't see this the last time I came here. This seems to be... a birdcage?"

"It's a bit thicker than a birdcage, how does it feel like a cage, you see, Mr. Mark, there is a hole below this."

"Really, what is this for?" Someone asked suspiciously.

"I think...this is like a hat..."

"Don't be kidding, which mental disorder wears a cage on the head! "

The man who heard the sound got up from the ground little by little, and the nests of several web-weaving spiders were broken by the man's head. They followed the man's neck and fled in all directions.

The headache was unbearable, he covered the iron cage on his head, fiercely hard, some dry and weathered mud fell off his feet, but he did not break free from the cage, only killed two passes. The unlucky spider on the iron bar.

"Nightmare...Nightmare..."

He said hoarsely, leaning on the wall, stepping on the stone and floor tiles and walking out.

......

......

In the fluorescent lighting corridor, there are a few wizards with pointed wizard hats. Waist, holding the shiny wand, staring at a birdcage-shaped helmet that just appeared on the ground.

"Has anyone else been here?"

The middle-aged man took out a magnifying glass from his backpack, stared at the metal birdcage on the ground carefully, and muttered to himself: "There are no magic power fluctuations...no traces of spells...not like magic products..."

"The area of ​​Numengaard has been abandoned for several decades, except for our archaeological ones. , Who else will come over?" The young man asked, shrinking his shoulders.

"Maybe it was left by the staff of Newmont Guardian. I would like to say, isn't the outer circle still operating?" The middle-aged man retracted the magnifying glass and picked up the grotesquely from the ground. The shaped birdcage hat, blowing the dust on it, suddenly said with a smile: "Don’t you say this is a hat, Gilbert, or wear it."

"I don’t want it , Fools want it." Gilbert immediately refused with his shoulders.

"Give you credits." The middle-aged man harboring malicious intentions took out a camera from his backpack and shook it seductively.

"Why don't you wear it yourself!?"

"I graduated a long time ago." middle-aged man said with a smile.

"Don't talk." The full beard old scholar frowned and said, "No matter who stays, don't touch this thing easily for the time being. Let's take it back and study it."

"It's a pity," the middle-aged man twitched his lips, and threw the heavy birdcage to Gilbert: "No, take it, I'll go next to take a picture."

After finishing speaking, he straightened up, took the camera and took pictures around him and took pictures. The old man in the lead took out a parchment, wrote and painted on the wall, and from time to time he took out the wand and knocked on the wall, mutter incantations in his mouth.

The instructor and Senior are busy with other things. Intern Gilbert is holding the birdcage-shaped helmet with his own forearm, and looking at the entrance and exit under the birdcage, he suddenly feels strange. The desire rise in the mind.

He wants to put his head in and try.

This desire is as uncontrollable as seeing bubbles wanting to smash, seeing nails wanting to pull out, or seeing cans wanting to squash.

Finally, after a few seconds of psychological struggle, he gritted his teeth and decided to give it a try.

took a deep breath, he lowered his body and got his head in.

The moment he put on the strange birdcage, Gilbert was in a trance.

With that, everything about all around changed.

In the originally empty Gothic cloister, a large number of silhouettes appeared. They were countless in number, each wearing an ancient black military uniform, some leaning against the wall, some hanging from the ceiling , And some even lie at their feet, staring at them with violent eyes.

But without exception, each of them wears that weird, cage-like helmet on their heads.

Seeing this horrible and weird scene, Gilbert gave out cry out in surprise and took off the cage from his head in a cold sweat.

"Professor Werther...!!!" he cried out in horror.

"What's the matter?"

The old man turned his head, and the middle-aged man who took the picture also turned his head, looking at him in wonder.

But Gilbert didn't speak any more, and after removing the birdcage, the shocking scene that had just appeared completely disappeared. The hall was empty, with only some broken carved Roman columns and rusty and broken chandeliers. Where can I see a silhouette.

The old man waited for a while before the students spoke, frowned in dissatisfaction: "Don’t be frightened and flustered. Just take pictures and record. Maybe we can find the lost copy of Wizard World fifty years ago. Historical materials."

After speaking, he continued to write and draw. The middle-aged man shrugged and continued taking pictures and sampling.

Only Gilbert stood on the spot, his heart pounding and pounding. Is everything he just saw an illusion? He wasn't sure.

He looked at the long birdcage-shaped helmet in his hand, hesitated and put it on again, shaking.

Yes, just saw everything that weird resurface before his eyes, a large number of modern soldiers wearing bird cages, they are motionless, they look almost dead.

But it is different from the last time I put it on.

In the not-so-wide corridor, he saw a weird man holding the stairs and slowly walking down. He was skinny like a skeleton, wearing a torn suit that couldn’t see his original face. The robe has high cheekbones, his head is tightly locked by a cage shaped like a birdcage, and there is a rusty lock hanging on his neck. Long white hair leaked from the cage and dragged to the ground.

That guy is staring at him without blinking.

Gilbert panicked completely, took off the helmet and threw it aside, but this time, even after he threw away the weird helmet, the man with white hair dragged on the ground did not disappear. , He was still standing on the steps downstairs, leaning on the wall, staring at himself firmly.

"Professor Werther! You...you...you see!?" The boy trembled and raised his fingers.

"What's wrong?" The tutor was very dissatisfied with the students' interrupting their research from time to time.

Following the young man’s fingers, he also saw the thin and tall man quietly appearing on the stairs. He looked like a skeleton covered in pale white skin. , All above the neck are locked in a cage.

"You...who are you?" The old man immediately raised the wand and pointed directly at the weirdness ahead.

The middle-aged man’s camera fell to the ground, he pulled out the wand without the slightest hesitation and pointed straight ahead.

"Who am I..." The skinny weird man looked at his palm and seemed to be asking himself this question.

"Are you...Are you a staff member of Newmundgaard?"

The old man was guarding the two students, holding the wand, and slowly backing away.

"Work...work...yes, I still have work to be done." The man's droopy eyelids lifted up a little bit, and he repeated: "I still have work to be done... .."

Along with his unfathomable mystery words, in the shadow of the wall of the empty hall, several people with the same heads locked in cages slowly crawled out. They are skinny and skinny, and they look like zombies crawling out of a coffin.

"Master."

"Master..."

"Master..."

They crawled and whispered call.

More and more silhouettes crawled out of the darkness. This weird picture made Gilbert terrified. There was no one here just now...

He hides behind his mentor firmly, rubbing out a little bit.

"Master...!"

"Master...help me..."

There is a caged head The guy crawled to the man's back, looked up at him, begging.

Amid the mist, the scrawny man raised his palm. His five fingers grew and bifurcated in the night, turning into antlers, and he held down the head of the man begging him.

Those antler spikes pierced in from the cage, piercing the man's head with countless holes.

I don't know if it was the skinny guy who hadn't eaten for too long or was on the verge of death. After his head was pierced, he didn't shed much blood. Not only did that guy have no pain or fear on his face, but he also showed a deep sense of relief.

"Go...Go..."

With a plop, the man wearing the birdcage fell to the ground. The old man had an ominous premonition, and frantically urged his students, the three of them stumbled, you pushed me and ran out.

The man with white hair dragging on the ground did not stop him, he stood on the ground quietly and watched the three rush away.

I don't know if it was too panic or the ground was uneven, Gilbert, who was running wild, suddenly fell to the ground, before he could get up. On the wall, the shadow of the fork suddenly expanded.

The white-haired man's antler-like palms suddenly stretched out. In the blink of an eye, they caught up with the other two people who had fled, pierced in from the back of their heads, and pierced out of their foreheads.

The instructor and Senior didn't even yell, they threw forward and fell to the ground.

"Professor Werther! Mark Senior!!!"

Gilbert cried out. He looked at the bodies of his teacher and Senior, and shuddered at the thought of the man's possible identity. Almost fainted, scared and couldn't help himself.

"Master...Master..."

In the shadows, more and more people wearing birdcage helmets crawled out, and they hugged them with close and numerous palms. Lived the thin thighs of a gray-haired man.

"Master, kill me, kill me..."

"Set me free."

"Kill me. ..Master..."

"Help me..."

......

"Grid...Grid.. .Ge...Green...Grindelwald...!!!"

Gilbert's teeth trembled and shouted out the name of the man, and a fishy liquid flowed out of his crotch. Slowly spread across the ground.

The white-haired man looked at him, his hollow eyes regained some energy, he walked out of the palms of close and numerous, ignoring the begging of the soldiers who crawled out of the shadows and wearing bird cages, slowly Came in front of Gilbert.

Long white hair dragged through the urine, and he squatted down.

"Poor child."

Grindelwald held Gilbert's shoulder, and said in a slow but gentle tone: "Don't be afraid, I will bring you back to life."