Harry Potter – I’m The Legend

Hoffa stared at Aglaia with an indifferent face, and asked hoarsely: "You...what have you experienced??"

pa pa pa! !

But his question was interrupted by thunderous applause.

He turned his head and looked around, looking for the source of the applause. No one saw it.

At the same time, a strong sense of dizziness surged into the brain, and the dizziness became heavier and heavier. Then, the space he was in was infinitely elongated, and Aglaia’s transparent body was like The red-shifted stars in the universe are generally farther and farther away from him.

Everything in front of me was blurred and deformed, the crucible, the crypt, and Aglaia were all stripped out. Finally formed a stage.

Outside the stage, there are countless ghosts applauding him. Behind the ghosts is endless void. In the void, Avadana’s black head as big as a planet holds the microphone, holding the stage in one hand, and yelling frantically with cracked white teeth: “Look, another man who has come to the last challenge, in this life’s During the feast, how many people can know the future, how many people can know the fate and be extremely calm, my answer is, ZERO!!!

Then let us have the ultimate challenge of the Death game, The last opponent of Legendary wizard Hoffa Bach, the self from the future, the Sovereign in the consciousness of chaos, the guide in the depth of one's soul-the god of nightmare!!!"

ticked.

The lengthening of the space stopped abruptly, and Avada's voice disappeared from Hoffa's ears. Ghost, Arvada, universe, starry sky, stage, all disappeared.

As if an electric gate had tripped, the eyes were plunged into darkness.

"Wait..."

"Wait!?"

Hoffa exclaimed anxiously: "What have you experienced? Aglaia, you tell me..."

No one answered.

He fumbled in the dark, grabbed a person, and shook it vigorously: "Tell me, tell me!"

"Tell you what?" In the darkness Some people struggled to say.

Tell me what...?

Hoffa was also confused for a moment. She lost her memory in a daze, and everything that had just happened was quickly forgotten.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that he was clutching the collar of a black bartender at the moment. And the black bartender held a white cloth and looked at him suspiciously.

"Hey, buddy, can you not do it, is there anything that can't be solved by drinking?"

"Sorry," Hoffa muttered, and slowly let go.

He found himself standing in a completely unfamiliar place. It looked like the interior of a Britain street bar. The bar was decorated in style, with crystal lights, redwood counters, upside down glasses, and elegant light music. At first glance, it is not a place for ordinary gangsters to consume. Most of the alcoholic people sitting here are dressed up as professional elites. They sit and drink very quietly and rarely speak much.

"What can I do?"

The black bartender asked.

"What wine do you have?"

Hoffa asked casually, he was a little uneasy.

"Here is a menu, you can read it yourself."

The bartender drew a wine list from under the table and handed it over.

Hoffa took it over and took a look. The original alcoholic vocabulary on the menu has become some weird vocabulary. Disabled], what [help me]... all the way down are some unfathomable mystery vocabulary.

"What the hell?"

He was a little puzzled, and then looked at the small blackboard behind the bartender-today's special offer, and the names of the liquors marked on it are also [Help me. ] Or something like SOS.

This made him a little curious, so he just pointed to a wine and said, "Bring me a glass of father and son."

The black bartender was nodded, and he picked it up professionally. The wine vessel and ice cubes dangled. With the help of the smooth silver surface of the shaker, Hoffa found that she had become normal again, with gray hair and golden eyes, and very young.

After a while, the black bartender put a glass of mixed wine in front of Hoffa, "Your father and son are killed, please use it slowly."

Hoffa picked up the glass and looked Very ordinary Cocktail, I am about to taste it.

Boom!

Thunder and heavy rain came from outside the bar.

A youngster in a suit banged the door open and stumbled on the high stool next to Hoffa. Gasping for breath asked, "Where is this, have we come out?"

Hoffa looked at the young man in a suit sitting next to him. He had chestnut hair and a pale complexion. He looked almost exactly the same as Miranda, except that without his chest, the rain fell from his wet hair and followed him. The pointy chin dripped on the bar, which made people feel distressed.

"No." He picked up the goblet and took a sip. The mouth was slightly bitter, but the aftertaste was sweet: "We are in a dream."

"Dreaming?" Miller asked in surprise. .

"Yes."

"What a joke, we weren't okay just now, just...just..." As he said, Miller was confused. Touching his head: "What just happened?"

"Can't remember, is it?"

"Somewhat confused..."

Hoffa took another sip of wine and sighed: "People don't remember the specific time and place in the dream, and they don't care how they look in the dream, or even how they started, will not remember."

"Do you remember?"

"I remember some."

"Why do you remember?" Miller whispered unwillingly.

"hmph, I don’t know how many dreams I have."

Hoffa shook the goblet, and the empty goblet was full again. He picked up the cup, He said to himself: "This absurd detail, a transition that does not follow common sense, and an environment full of foreboding..."

Miller: "Don't Nonsense, what happened? Hurry up and tell me."

"I played a game with Death. Only if I win him, I can take Aglaia and leave Helheim, otherwise I will stay in the underworld forever."

"And then?"

"Death picked me three opponents in the game. They are the past me and the present Me and the future me. The past me has been defeated by me, and the current me, the monster you just saw, has been turned into blood. As for the future me..."

Hoffa put down the goblet, shook her head, and was a little speechless, clutching her chest.

Countless broken pictures flashed before his eyes, thinking of the God of Nightmare and his first transaction request, thinking of the empty house of old age, the gun that was stuffed into his mouth, and then thinking Fifty years ago, waiting for his mission, he had difficulty breathing like a mountain on his back.

Miller grabbed his hand: "What's wrong with you?"

Hoffa shook his head, closed his eyes, and after a few breaths, clenching one's teeth and said: "Nothing "

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead: "I can control the dream in the future. This is the dream he created for us."

"The future you..." Miller thought for a while, and suddenly changed his face, "putting it that way, are you determined to go back to fifty years ago?"

"Do I have a choice?" Hoffa smiled bitterly and shook hands. Goblet inside: "Your past should have my shadow, tell me, what does it look like?"

Miller's face changed a few times, from consternation to anxiety, and then from anxiety to Indifferent, he turned his head.

"In this case, there is nothing to say."

"What is bad to learn, why learn Aglaia."

Hoffa indifferently said," What can’t you say.”

Miller suddenly looked angry, he grabbed Hoffa by the collar abruptly: “Listen, I don’t want you to go back, I don’t want it at all!”

"oh?" Hoffa was stunned: "You are the only one who told me that."

"Damn it, Hoffa!" Miller pulled his clothes hard and handed. , Strangled his neck, "Everything you do now can change the future, and there is no future that is immutable."

"Why not everything, every Choices constitute the future?"

Miller opened his mouth slightly, and after a while, he even let go of his hand and stood up, touching the bottle on the bar counter ding ding dong dong, "No, I refuse Accept your thoughts."

Everyone in the bar looked at Miller, Hoffa hurriedly pulled him to sit down, and the people in the bar silently retracted their heads.

The black bartender took a step forward and handed Miller a white towel to wipe the rainwater, and asked politely, "What are you going to have?"

"Gin and Tonic." Miller mumbled said.

A clear glass goblet containing a hockey puck was placed in front of Miller, and he took a sip of the amber liquor. Sticking your head to Hoffa's ear, whispered: "Listen, Hoffa, if you don't admit that this is your future, no one can force a future into your head."

"I know."

"No, you don't know." Miller said forcefully: "I don't allow you to have this kind of thought. It's too dangerous. It's denying your own existence and suicide. Undoubtedly."

"Fine," Hoffa compromised and raised his hand: "Don't get excited, whether this is something I will do in the future, but the fact is that we have been dragged into a dream. During this period, we must think about it...otherwise..."

"Otherwise?"

"I don’t know, but I know the only way to fight dreams is Wake up, if you don’t wake up, any cat or dog outside can damage my body. Once the body is damaged, I will lose it completely."

Miller took another sip. Wine, calm down: "Then what do you think about this?"

"First of all, we have to determine whose dream is this, generally speaking, the dream will choose a master, and then form his subconscious projection."

"Subconscious projection..."

Miller lifts the head and looks all around: "I have never been here before. Is this your dream?"

Hoffa shook his head, "I rarely drink and go to the bar less often. If I project my dreams, I would never choose this place."

Miller touched it. Touching his chin, slowly said: "So...this is, Barty Jr.'s dream?"

Hoffa realized that there was one missing person next to him. He turned to find it, where is Barty Jr.? Where did he go?

.....

As I was thinking about it, a faint voice came from the table next to it.

.....

"You have to make a decision, Mr. Crouch, if Cornelius .Fudge is allowed to get this information, let alone running for Ministry of Magic, maybe even It’s very difficult to maintain the status quo."

"There are no other methods?"

"It’s not clean, I’ve talked to you know who kind of wizard, even if you invite it. Not even the most famous lawyer in the world. And...forgive me to speak bluntly, your son is acting bluntly."

"Damn little bastard."

The man patted the table bitterly and sulkingly: "Why did I give birth to this kind of son?"

In front of the bar, Hoffa and Miller looked at each other. Both can see each other's surprise. Of the two people sitting in the corner drinking, one of them turned out to be the father of Barty Jr. Crouch, the old Barty Crouch.

At this moment, old Barty Crouch is wearing a gray cloak, deliberately hiding his appearance, but Hoffa can still see his face under the hood haggard and gray.

The old man opposite him is dressed more like a muggle elite. He is wearing a suit with a big belly, meticulously combing the sparse hair of the Mediterranean, and wearing single-sided glasses. He kept taking out documents from his black briefcase and handing them to the haggard man in front of him.

Reading through the documents carefully, old Barty.Crouch rubbed his temples with a headache: "What is the limit? How much can you achieve?"

"My idea is First sentenced to life imprisonment for a few years, wait for the public to forget Mr. Crouch, then you think about other methods." Paused, the old man dressed as a lawyer said: "Maybe it won’t take a few years, you know... the public Forget about things, faster than a goldfish."

"Okay."

old Barty. Crouch's face eased a little, he rubbed his forehead, "You Anything else I want to say?"

"Yes."

The lawyer added: "This case must be handled as soon as possible, and you must try this case yourself. "

Hearing these words, old Barty's face that had just eased up instantly tightened, even tighter than before. He said in disbelief, "What?? You want me to send my only son in by myself. Azkaban!?"

"Yes," the lawyer said categorically: "And you must do it yourself, you must be ruthless, you must be ruthless, so as to give the ministry the impression that you are selfless and prevent others Hit a person when he's down, and leave a name for you and your family."

paused, the potbellied lawyer made a one-size-fits-all gesture: "This is a timely stop, Mr. Crouch, If you don’t do this, the loss will expand beyond your imagination. You are a popular candidate for minister and have countless pairs of eyes staring at you..."

"Enough! Class! Sen, don't talk about it anymore."

old Barty.Crouch's voice is suppressed and painful.

And the lawyer did not shut up, he said in a ruthless tone: "A person of your status must be able to understand. As long as you survive the past few years, you still have hope."

old Barty was silent for a long time.

Finally, he closed his eyes, cursed abusively, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table, and strode out the door. The lawyer was left sitting on the spot, putting away the documents slowly, and drinking as if nothing was happening.

"Follow first and check out," Hoffa said to the black bartender.

"Thirteen pounds."

Hoffa reached into his pocket, took out a banknote and pushed it over, but the head printed on the banknote was not the Queen of England, but Barty Jr. In the cage, a twisted pattern roaring outward.

Leave the bar.

There was squally rain outside the bar, and almost nothing could be seen. But the strange thing is that the rain did not fall from the clouds, and the outside of the bar was not the street, but a dark and burning corridor. Howling wind and torrential rain are falling in the corridor.

"Where is this going?" Miller asked Hoffa loudly in the heavy rain.

Hoffa pursed her mouth tightly, dragging Miller behind old Barty Crouch. For the destination, he had some premonitions in his heart.

Sure enough, before going too far, old Barty stopped in the rainstorm corridor, opened a door at the end, and walked in. Hoffa followed behind him and walked in.

Bang dong!

As soon as the door closed, the rainstorm disappeared. The scene has also become a dungeon of gloomy forest.

There is a bleak gloomy atmosphere in the dungeon. There is no portrait on the wall, no decoration, only the dense rows of benches all around, which are lined up in steps, from all the seats. The chair with chains in the middle of the dungeon was clearly seen.

This is an interrogation room.

Hoffa looked all around and saw Dumbledore sitting next to old Barty.Crouch, the main seat at the highest point, the rest of the people sitting at the lower head, while he and Barty Jr. were standing at the entrance.

In the very quiet room, there was a witch's sobbing sound next to the old Barty.Crouch. Her trembling hands held a handkerchief over her mouth. Hoffa looked at the woman with her arms folded, thinking that the woman should be Barty Jr. Crouch's mother.

"Bring in."

old Barty's indifferent voice echoed in the silent dungeon.

The door in the corner of the house opened, and six dementors escorted four people in. Someone started whispering.

The dementor placed four people on four chained chairs in the center of the dungeon. One of the short, fat men looked at old Barty Crouch blankly, and the other thinner man looked more nervous, staring straight into the auditorium, and a woman with thick black hair and long eyelashes looked triumphantly.

There is also a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy who looks completely shocked, trembling all over, with straw-colored hair scattered on his face, and his freckled skin is pale as paper.

The moment he saw him, Hoffa recognized him. Although he was much younger, it was Barty Jr. Crouch.

(Miller moved, as if he wanted to take Barty Jr. away on the spot, but Hoffa took his arm and pressed him on the seat. This is the nightmare world, it’s not In the meditation basin, if Miller moves rashly, it will immediately trigger a subconscious backlash. In a dream, no power can be measured with common sense.)

After four people were taken to court.

old Barty.Crouch stood up and looked down at the four people, with extreme hatred on their faces.

"You were brought before the Magic Law Committee to be sentenced," he said clearly, "Your crime is so bad..."

"Father," Barty Jr.. Crouch screamed in horror, "Father...please..."

"——It is rare in this court's case." Mr. Crouch raised his voice. Overwhelming his son’s voice, “We heard the accusations against you. The four of you kidnapped an Auror——Frank.Longbottom, and used Cruciatus Curse on him, trying to find out your master from him, that The whereabouts of people who can’t even mention by name—"

"Father, I don’t!" The boy tied to the chair screamed, "I don’t, I swear, father, don’t send me away Go back to the dementor—"

"The accusation also says," Mr. Crouch yelled, "Frank Longbottom refused to provide information, so you use Cruciatus Curse against his wife. You conspired so that you can’t even name it. The person mentioned is returning, wanting to restore the violent life you had in his powerful period. Now I invite the jury—"

"mother!" the boy cried, and the thin witch next to Crouch sobbed , His body swayed back and forth, "Mother, stop him, mother, I didn’t do those things, it’s not me!"

"Now I ask the jury to vote," Mr. Crouch said loudly, "I think the same These crimes should be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, please raise your hands!"

The wizards on the right side of the dungeon raised their hands all together. Barty Jr. Crouch began to scream.

"no! mother, no! I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, I don’t know! Don’t send me there and stop him!"

dementor slowly walk in. The boy's three companions stood up in silence, and the woman with long eyelashes raised her head and shouted to Crouch: "Dark Lord will be back again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, let's wait! He will come back and save us. He will reward us in particular! Only we are loyal! Only we are trying to find him!"

The audience burst into laughter, some stood up and whistled, some even compared their middle finger . But the woman walked out of the dungeon proudly.

Barty Jr. Crouch tried his best to get rid of dementor, but it was useless.

"I am your son!"

He shouted to Crouch, "I am your son!"

"You are not my son! "Old Barty Crouch's eyes burst, angrily roared: "I don't have a son!"