Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

Seeing the grey wand resting on the fireplace, the slightly rough wand with knotted branches, Hoffa almost didn't shed tears.

His wand, the wand that had been gone for more than four years, was snatched by the half-man King Silby, and now it was lying peacefully in front of him.

"Man..."

The Coke bottle fell to the ground, and he tremblingly stretched out his hand and grabbed the magic wand on the fireplace.

However, something puzzling happened.

When he touched the wand, he no longer had the **** feeling of using his wand in the past. It can neither be deformed nor used to cast spells. As if what he was holding in his hand at the moment was just an ordinary branch.

After a few waves out of thin air, the joy of reunion was replaced by confusion.

He turned the wand upside down and looked at it several times. There is no doubt that this is his wand, the half-finished wand without core that the old man sold to him when you were at Ollivander's house. At the end of it, there is a deep notch, which is a square font, [closed]

It's just that it's been about fifty years too long, and that character has faded from the red paint that it used to be, and it has become an ordinary scratch.

"This is my magic wand."

Hoffa shouted back.

"Yes it is."

The old Hoffa who was cooking in the kitchen replied.

"Why can't it be used?"

Hoffa continued.

There was no answer, there was only a peaceful sound of turning off the fire in the kitchen.

Hoffa put down his wand and went to the kitchen: "You defeated him, otherwise how would you take the wand back?"

"Don't ask too much, you will know."

Old Hoffa said calmly, putting a handful of chopped green onions into the gurgling iron pot, then put the iron pot on the table, and gently said: "Hungry, come and eat some food first."

Watching him slowly put three dishes and one soup on the table and took off his apron, the young Hoffa gritted his teeth and sat down.

The dishes are very simple, a sweet and sour pork ribs, a lamb and radish soup, a bowl of stir-fried vegetable salad, and several kinds of pickles.

???? "Come, have a taste." Old Hoffa pointed to the sweet and sour ribs on his left.

???? The young Hoffa was still a bit at a loss, but he didn't refuse, picked up the chopsticks, clamped a piece of ribs, leaned to his mouth, and took a bite.

???? The sweet and sour icing and the strong aroma of the gravy filled at the same time, let him chew subconsciously, and finished the pork ribs in threes or twos. At this moment, he even forgot the threat of death.

???? "Try the soup." Old Hoffa kindly served him a bowl of mutton soup. The rich soup is sprinkled with a few green onions, which makes people salivate as soon as they smell it.

The young Hoffa's eyes were a little bit more expectant, he took the bowl, carefully picked a piece of lamb, and put it in his mouth.

It was simmered quite badly, and it felt like it was about to melt as soon as it was eaten. The real meaty aroma broke out, and the wonderful juices flowed across the mouth, filling the mouth. Coupled with the fragrance of radish and the deliciousness of onion, it is beyond words.

He shuddered. This is real Chinese food. After being in this world for so long, it is the first time he has eaten such authentic oriental food. I have to say that the old age is very particular about his own cooking skills.

Under the shining of food, he temporarily forgot the threat of time flare spreading, and quietly enjoyed this wonderful, first meal from fifty years later.

When he was eating, Old Hoffa sat beside him, silently helping him with soup and food, and occasionally eating a few bites himself, tacitly like a pair of father and son who had been separated for many years.

Outdoors, the sunset in 1994 was quiet and warm. There was no anti-aircraft warning, no tanks rumbling past, and no planes across the sky. Only the pigeons chatted in the eaves, and a few neighbors talked downstairs with the dog. The content of the chat was mostly related to the weather and the children's study.

Indoors, the two finished their meal in silent tacit understanding. Old Hoffa got up to clean up the dishes and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

After the young Hoffa filled his stomach, worries came to his mind again. This is the most satisfying meal he has eaten in the past few years. If it weren't for the sword of Damocles, maybe he would give a thumbs up and praise his future cooking skills.

But now, he really has too many doubts, looking forward to the elderly himself to explain to him.

Finally, after washing the dishes and chopsticks, Old Hoffa returned to the table.

The young Hoffa straightened up immediately: "Can we talk?"

As if he had a sharp heart, the old man raised his hand, and said with a smile: "Don't talk, let me ask you a few words first."

"What are you asking?"

"Stay here." The gray-haired old man in front of him smiled, "I will be your father."

"what!?"

Hoffa was stunned by the sudden word of the old thing.

"For more than sixty years, I have experienced everything, but I don't have an heir, and no one has called my dad. This is a great regret in my life. Would you like to scream?"

"Damn, can you say serious things?" Hoffa sighed and looked at his smiling old face, feeling helpless in every way. At this time, I have to make a joke.

"Don't tell me." Old Hoffa stretched out his hands aggrievedly: "Look, we have the same blood flowing in our bodies, and we have the same surnames. The only difference is that I am fifty years older than you. Why do you call Dad Up?"

"are you crazy!"

Hoffa resisted his displeasure and cursed in the gentlest words he could find.

However, the old Hoffa in front of him drew a pure gold key from his pocket and said with a smile: "I have a deposit worth more than three million gold gallons in Gringotts, and I am waiting for someone to inherit it."

Hoffa immediately squeezed out a smile: "Dad."

"Hahaha!"

The old man laughed loudly.

The young Hoffa couldn't help but laughed, and his face turned gray after he laughed for a second, and he sighed: "Enough jokes."

He pulled the clothes off his chest and saw that his chest was from below the collarbone, almost invisible. Only a strangely shaped heart can be seen thumping and beating in the transparent chest cavity. He rubbed his palm, and countless crystal shavings floated from his palm.

"It's all this time, just tell me, how can I survive?"

Old Hoffa put away the golden key and straightened his hair indifferently: "In fact, I have studied the power of time. There is only one case for time flare, unprotected time travel."

"Unprotected time travel, what does it mean?"

"Time is like a running train. Everyone's seat on this train is regulated. Someone is in the front, some is in the middle, and some is in the rear. If you are strong enough, you can be in the carriage. Move inside. But you can’t be both in the front and the rear of the car at the same time.

There are two Hoffa Bachs in this time and space, but we are not Chloe, and without the blood of her magical laws, it is impossible to have two selves at the same time. So time flares will appear. This is a manifestation of extreme uncertainty. There are too many chaotic futures in you, and the laws of this world do not allow so much uncertainty. "

Hoffa frowned after thinking for a moment: "Why can Harry and I can't?"

"Harry and Hermione have the Ministry of Magic's time-space converter, which is also a protective machine, like an oxygen cylinder in the deep ocean."

"Do you have a time converter?"

"No, that thing is too weak to resist the power of law for fifty years."

"So what's the solution?"

"It's very simple."

Old Hoffa took out a Citibank bank card from his trouser pocket and put it in the palm of young Hoffa: "The password is 19940724, which is today's date."

"Why are you giving me money."

Hoffa looked at him pale and dull: "I'm going to die."

The elderly Hoffa gently shook his hand, moved his head, and said in a very low voice in his ear: "You must remember my words, people don't die when they can die, but die when they deserve to die."

After speaking, he slowly backed up and sat in a chair.

The young Hoffa stared at each other blankly.

The sun of the setting sun shines through the window on the old man's face, adding a bit of mystery to his old face.

I saw the old man in front of him neatly tidied his white T-shirt and sat down on the chair. Then, he pulled out a silver revolver from his jeans pocket.

He smiled, and even looked at his young self with some evil interest, and put the silver revolver into his mouth.

"Hey......"

"Hey!!"

An extremely bad premonition surged into his heart, Hoffa's eyes suddenly widened, he jumped off the chair, and reached out to grab the gun.

Accompanied by a small, sharp gunshot.

boom! !

Hoffa Petrochemical with his hands out was on the spot.

Outside the house, the setting sun, a few neighbors finished chatting, they smiled and waved to each other, and took the dogs to the house leisurely. The pigeons in the yard are still chirping, waiting for the owner to feed.

Inside the house, the clock on the wall ticked.

A few drops of flying blood slowly fell from the gray-haired boy's face. His eyes were wide and his face was as pale as a sculpture.

One thousand six hundred kilometers away, Austria, Neumengaard.

The crow is entrenched on the top of the tower, and there is a red moon that has been eaten away by dark clouds in the sky. In the room at the top of the tall tower that had been in the dust for a long time, a skinny figure suddenly woke up.