Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

"Be careful, Gilbert, let go of that **** mouse." The old man looked at the reckless young man in front of him with dissatisfaction.

"Can the mice here grow so big?"

The rough boy with yellow hair picked up the squeaking rodent in his hand, the size of two fists.

"Everything here is bigger than other places."

The old man stared at him displeased, "The last time my colleague and I came, his arm was bitten off by a wild dog the size of a lion, and he hasn't been able to pick it up now."

"Maybe it was made by Grindelwald." Gilbert threw away the mouse indifferently and kicked it into the sewer in the air: "Who is better than the mysterious man?"

"You can call him a mysterious person, but calling Grindelwald directly by name is enough to explain a lot of problems." Another middle-aged man carrying a bag came over from the stone steps and said quite humorously.

Gilbert curled his lips, his eyes focused in the distance.

That is the entrance to the top floor of Newmondgard. With the light of the magic 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 the mysterious person, except for Grindelwald. In fact, in the records about him, it is rare to see the dark wizard’s obsession with wealth and power. More is an unfathomable exploration of the soul. And why he launched the tragic wizarding war fifty years ago is still a huge mystery." The old man in the lead said in a dull tone of a history teacher.

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

"Well,"

The elderly teacher who walked in the forefront was noncommittal: "That being said, I believe that at the last moments of this dark wizard's life, something must have happened that caused a large amount of missing historical data, so that we can't see the full picture of that era. "

"So this is what you did, Professor Witt, to bring us to the place where his life was imprisoned at the end?"

"After all, we are researchers in the history of magic, and there is nothing wrong with the evidence."

The three of them walked into the abandoned tower one by one, and the crows that were quacking silently said nothing. What breaks the silence at this moment is only the rhythm of the drums, which is as gentle as a heartbeat, and the clutter of footsteps that should go along with the drums. The ground is overgrown with weeds, and there is a layer of white mist that does not come from somewhere. A large area of ​​the slate and bricks has collapsed in rows, and the occasional moonlight shot in through the cracks and gaps in the roof, making people uneasy.

"By the way, is he really dead?"

The dark clouds covered the moon, and Gilbert shuddered, feeling that the place was so gloomy and gloomy, and the courage that had just kicked the mouse was missing.

"Not sure, Albus Dumbledore just said he was imprisoned, and didn't say where he ended up." The middle-aged man in the team shrugged and grinned: "Are you scared, intern?"

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

"Mark, don't scare him."

The leading old professor said unhappily, "I have been here no less than five or six times. There has been no one inside. The Austrian Ministry of Magic has stopped transporting supplies here since 1945. Even the gods starved to death. In this long river of time."

"Then you are coming..." Gilbert couldn't help rolling his eyes while he was relieved.

......

......

It was dark on all sides, like a cloud of thick ink, and only spiders crawling on the empty ceiling.

The man touched his head, but he did not touch his body, only a rusty iron cage. His hand flicked 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 a wizard with countless smiles but lying unconscious on the ground. Did those things actually happen, or was it just a terrible dream? Thinking of this, his head immediately aches.

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

"Huh...what is that?"

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

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

"It's a bit thicker than a birdcage. How does it feel like a cage? Look, Mr. Mark, there is a hole under this."

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

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

"Don't be kidding, which neurotic would wear a cage on his 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 and used fiercely, some dry and weathered mud fell off his feet, but he did not break free from the cage, and only killed two unlucky spiders passing by the iron bars.

"Nightmare...Nightmare..."

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

......

......

In the luminous corridor, several wizards wearing pointed wizard hats bent over, holding their shiny wands, and 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: "No magic fluctuations...no traces of spells...not like magical products..."

"The area around Neumengaard has been deserted for decades. Apart from our archeologists, who else will come over?" the young man asked, shrinking his shoulders.

"Maybe it was left by the staff of Newmont Guardian. I want to tell you, isn't that circle still operating?" The middle-aged man retracted the magnifying glass, picked up the weird birdcage hat from the ground, and blew it. The dust on it suddenly smiled and said, "Didn't you say that this is a hat, Gilbert, or you should wear it."

"I don't want it, but a fool wants it." Gilbert immediately refused with his shoulders.

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

"Then why don't you wear it yourself!?"

"I graduated a long time ago." The middle-aged man smiled.

"Don't talk." The old scholar with a beard frowned, "No matter who stayed, 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 curled his lips and threw the heavy birdcage to Gilbert: "No, take it, I'll go next to take pictures."

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

The instructor and senior are busy with other things. Intern Gilbert is holding the birdcage-shaped helmet with his forearm length, looking at the entrance and exit under the birdcage, and suddenly a strange desire comes to his heart.

He wanted to put his head in and try.

This desire is as uncontrollable as seeing bubbles wanting to crush, 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.

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

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

After that, everything around him changed.

In the originally empty Gothic cloister, a large number of people appeared. They were countless in number. Each of them was wearing ancient black military uniforms. Some leaned against the wall, some hung from the ceiling, and some even lay down. At his feet, staring at him with violent eyes.

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

Seeing this horrifying and strange scene, Gilbert let out a cry of exclamation, and took off the cage from his head in a cold sweat.

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

"what's happenin?"

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 pillars and rusty and broken chandeliers. Where can I see a figure.

The old man waited for a while before the students could speak, and frowned dissatisfiedly: "Don't be surprised, just take pictures and make notes. Maybe we can find the lost historical materials in the wizarding world fifty years ago."

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. Was everything he had just seen an illusion? He was a little unsure.

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

That's right, just saw everything that weird resurface before his eyes, a large number of modern soldiers wearing bird cages, they were motionless, they looked 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 slowly down. He was skinny like a skeleton, wearing a torn robe that couldn’t see his original face, with high cheekbones and head. It was deadlocked by a cage shaped like a birdcage, and there was still a rusty lock hanging around his neck. Long white hair leaked from the cage and dragged to the ground.

That guy was 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 dragging on the ground did not disappear. He was still standing downstairs. On the steps, he leaned on the wall and stared at himself firmly.

"Professor Witt! You...you...look!?" The boy tremblingly raised his finger.

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

But following the boy’s fingers, he also saw the thin and tall man who appeared silently on the stairs. The guy looked like a skeleton covered in pale white skin, all locked in a cage above his neck. in.

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

The middle-aged man's camera fell to the ground, he took out his wand without hesitation and pointed it 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 member of the staff of Newmundgaard?"

The old man guarded the two students, holding his magic wand, and slowly backing away.

"Work...work...yes, I still have work to do." The man's drooping eyelids lifted up a little bit and repeated: "I still have work to do..."

Accompanied by his inexplicable 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.

"the host."

"the host..."

"the host..."

They murmured as they crawled.

More and more figures crawled out of the darkness. This weird picture made Gilbert terrified. It was obvious that there was no one here just now...

He hid firmly behind his mentor, rubbing away a little bit.

"the host....!"

"Master...help me..."

A guy with a cage on his head crawled to the man's back, looked up at him, begging.

In 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 numerous holes in the man's head.

I don't know if it was the skinny guy who hadn't eaten for too long or was already 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.

"Come on...Come on..."

With a plop, the man wearing the birdcage fell to the ground. The old man had a foreboding feeling 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, he stood on the ground quietly and watched the three rush away.

Not knowing whether 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 the senior did not even yell, and threw forward and fell to the ground.

"Professor Witt! Senior Mark!!"

Gilbert cried out. He looked at the bodies of his teacher and senior, thinking of the man's possible identity, he almost fainted with a tremor, scared and unable to control himself.

"Master...Master..."

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

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

"Relieve me."

"Kill me...Master..."

"help me..."

......

"G...G...G...Grin...Grindelwald...!!!?"

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

The white-haired man looked at him, his hollow eyes regained some radiance. He walked out of the dense palms, ignoring the begging of the soldiers who crawled out of the shadows, and slowly came to Gilbert's front.

With long white hair dragged through the urine, he squatted down.

"poor child."

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