Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

Two people, one old and one young, strolled on the mist-shrouded ground, passing between two long rows of tents.

The morning sun shone through the mist and fell on Hoffa's face, making him a little uncomfortable. But despite this, he still had to admit that it was really lively here.

In the fog, there are tents with no end in sight. On the tents are bunches of triangular banners with the flags of the Bulgarian national team and the Irish national team. Under the banners, there are rows of small hill-like tents. Most The tent looks nothing special. It's the same as Muggle tents, but some are also very personal. They are obviously tents, but there are chimneys, bell ropes or weather vanes on them, which is very interesting.

The air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle and gorse. On the side of the road, you could see a strong man sitting on the ground, falling asleep on a printed blanket, his beard covered with alcohol, and snoring while sleeping. It was obviously yesterday. The party is late.

The heathland is full of clumps of yellow gorse, gleaming in the newborn sun. Accustomed to the clouded soil fifty years ago, suddenly coming to this kind of leisurely place would really refresh him, as if it were a lifetime.

Nicole LeMay, "See you, it's all your credit."

Hoffa pretended not to hear.

When the two walked to the middle of the first field, Nicole Lemay stopped. There stood a huge tent, which was bigger and gorgeous than all the tents beside it. It is very extravagantly used a lot of striped silk, it looks like a small palace, with a few live peacocks tied to the entrance, and a small fountain.

"This is our residence, do you like it?" Nicole Le May smiled.

"It's flamboyant."

Hoffa raised his eyebrows.

If he saw this kind of thing five years ago, he might jump up in surprise. But now, he began to look critically at the tent in front of him. The fountain was too small, the flowers were too mixed, and the few peacocks in front of the door seemed to be in poor spirits.

"Don't mind, after all, Ali Bashir is a well-known supplier of flying carpets in Arabia." Nicol Lemay said: "You still have to do a full set of plays."

"I didn't say I didn't like it, I liked it."

Hoffa opened the tent first, "Go in."

The tent has been cast a non-marking stretch curse. The space inside is larger than the outside. It is three stories high. The ground is covered with very complicated carpets. The low-footed red cabinets around are covered with peculiar sun and moon metal decorations, and some The tall teapot, the towering sweets on the tea table like a pagoda, the air is filled with a scent of milk.

Hoffa looked at this Arab-style tent curiously, picking up a few decorations from time to time and looking at it.

Nicole LeMay stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror of the tent, turned his head and said tremblingly to Hoffa: "Can you help me, please."

Hoffa put down the light jug that looked like Aladdin's magic lamp in his hand, stood behind Nicol Lemay, and helped him take off his gray cloth coat, exposing his crumpled body.

Later, Nico Lemay took out a bottle of gray mud-like compound medicine from his pocket, raised his hand and swallowed it with a frown.

Grumbling.

The thin old man covered with age spots in the mirror swelled up like an air. He saw his thin body gradually straighten, and his thin hair gradually became denser and darker. Finally, he became a Middle Eastern man with black hair and a crooked nose, looking about forty years old.

"Huh...huh..."

After the change was over, Nico Lemez took a few breaths and shook his head, "It won't work anymore. I'm older and have resistance to the compound decoction. I guess it can only last for less than an hour."

Hoffa's eyes floated to the back of Nicole May's hand. Although his body became younger, his age spots had not completely disappeared.

Nicole LeMay walked to the closet of the tent, picked it up from the inside, and sighed as he picked it up, "I'm old, when Chloe is alive, I should completely go away."

"Do you really love her so much?" Hoffa asked, sitting on the carpet, "you have so much difference in generations."

"She was feared by her parents because of her bloodline ability. I brought her up. When you have a grandson, you will understand me. Let me say that I and her are more like friends."

"It was you who sent her to France?"

"At that time, there was no war. I hope God can cure her disease, but things backfired. At least in her body, God did not reveal his mercy."

"Is there really a God,"

Hoffa sneered and shrugged, and pointed to the top of the tent: "Let me say that God, whom these people believe in, does not exist."

"It doesn't have to be God. If you use the words of alchemy, it should be called a higher level of existence."

"God?"

"More than just, higher."

Nicol LeMay put on his clothes and became a businessman wrapped in a tall Arab headscarf and Baghdad robes with a peacock feather inserted in the headscarf.

"Come on, I'll take you to Barty Crouch."

"It's not impossible for me to go alone," Hoffa murmured.

"Hmph, you are so young, no matter how luxurious you are, Crouch will not remember your name, let alone let you enter his tent." Nicole LeMay shook his head, "He is a man Powerful guy."

After the two went out again, the sun had risen to mid-air.

The hostility contained in the strong sunlight made Hoffa a daze, as if everything in front of him was covered with a crystal clear film, and he had to squint his eyes.

Originally, Hoffa wanted to see if he could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the legendary trio in the Quidditch World Cup.

But under this kind of sun, he didn't want to look at anything. All he thought about was going back to the tent, sleeping until dark and then getting up again. But this kind of thought is just thinking about it, he has to go to Barty Crouch Jr. time does not allow him to waste.

He took off a branch, transformed it into a pair of sunglasses, put it on his nose, barely blocking the sun, which made it easier.

Nicole May slowed down and lowered his voice beside him: "It doesn't matter, when I go back this time, I will help you make some potions to suppress the blood power in your body."

"Let's talk about it later."

Hoffa felt as if someone was looking at him behind him, so he looked back, but he didn't see any familiar figure. There are only a few foreign wizards who are holding a kettle and getting up in the morning to fetch water.

time flies.

The number of people in the camp gradually increased, and many young boys and girls shuttled through the crowd and made trouble. There are domestic and foreign ones, and they speak languages ​​that they can understand or do not understand.

Hoffa was a little envious of them.

So young and beautiful, in groups. But his companion is a bad old man.

After passing through a tent with pictures of Wilktor Krum, he and Nicole Lemay came to another site. There were a lot fewer tents in this area, and the distance between them was also large.

One of the tents is faintly visible in the jungle. That tent is different from other people's. Although it maintains the shape of a tent, it is not made of cloth, but made of wood. It is like a small house, with some wood chips on the top, doors and windows, and a small garden on the periphery.

There is a yellow path paved with clay and stones in the small garden. The garden is surrounded by a low wall, about three feet high, with a wooden fence on the top of the wall. At the corner of Muzha, there is a brown wooden board and three gilded spheres. The brown wooden board is engraved with the big white characters [Batti Crouch-Idle Nothing].

Nicol LeMay stood under the three gold-plated **** and knocked on the door.

After a while, no one opened the door,

The two stood at the door and glanced at each other. Hoffa stepped back and glanced into the window. The window was covered with a white gauze, like white shadows on the eyes, making it difficult to see what was inside.

But he could detect that someone was standing behind the door, bending over to look at himself vigilantly through the crack of the door, holding a wand in his hand, this guy had been standing behind the door for a long time.

Nico LeMay, disguised as Ali Bashir, knocked on the door again and asked politely: "Is Mr. Crouch at home? Minister Fudge recommended me to come."

The eyes behind the door narrowed, and the people in the room slowly backed away, about ten meters away, when he said solemnly: "Here."

After speaking, he made neat footsteps, came to the door, and turned the door lock with a click.

The middle-aged man behind the door had short, untidy black hair, a straight waist, and a stiff movement. He was wearing a spotless, crisp suit and tie. The narrow moustache like a toothbrush immediately reminded Hoffa of Adolf Hitler.

"Ah, hello, hello."

Nico Lemay stretched out his hand tremblingly, "Presumably you are Mr. Barty Crouch, admiring you for a long time."

The meticulous man hesitated for a moment, and held Nico Lemay's fingertips reservedly: "Ali Basher? The president of Arab Flying Carpet Import and Export Company?"

"It's...below."

Nicole Lemay turned his finger, turned out a golden business card and handed it over, "This, this is my nephew and secretary...Horva Bashir."

Barty Crouch looked at the card, then looked up at Hoffa again, frowning, but in the end he turned sideways with a slight displeased: "??????????? Please come in)

"????Thank you)

Nicholas Lemay didn't change his face, and entered the room with a smile.

Hoffa secretly cried out that it was dangerous. Old Barty Crouch could even speak Arabic. If you didn't bring Nico Le May, I was afraid that he would be exposed before entering the door.

After entering the door, his eyes quickly turned around the room, and in the blink of an eye, he used a powerful mental field to scan the entire room.

This is an old-fashioned three-bedroom apartment with bathroom and kitchen. There is a basement under the kitchen floor, and the entrance to the basement is sealed by magic.

Tom Riddle thought his subordinate Barty Crouch Jr. was imprisoned in Azkaban, but what he didn’t know was that as early as a year ago, the old Barty Crouch was about to die from a serious illness. The wife's plea used his wife to replace his son, Barty Jr, Voldemort's loyal servant, from Azkaban. Since then, Barty Jr has been kept at home.

It wasn't until the day of the Quidditch World Cup that he was released, and he also played an important role in the Goblet of Fire, hiding in Hogwarts, disguised as the teacher of the Dark Arts defense class-Mad Eye Moody.

And he is exactly Hoffa's goal.

"Please sit down."

Old Barty Crouch pointed to the sofa, his eyes kept turning on Hoffa's silver earrings and sunglasses, frowning from time to time.

Nico LeMay sat naturally on the chair, with his fingers crossed on his belly, Hoffa stood behind him,

"Coffee or tea?" Barty Crouch went to the kitchen.

"A glass of water is just fine. Excuse me, Mr. Crouch, with all due respect, your accommodation is really hard to find."

"Ah, I prefer quiet in private and don't like being disturbed." Old Barty Crouch said flatly.

"It's been very busy these days, the World Cup." Nicole Le May winked at Hoffa and closed his eyes.

"Fortunately, there are a lot of things in the ministry, but they are all within the scope of my duties."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes it is."

Old Batty came out of the kitchen with two glasses of water and handed it to Nico LeMay, but he did not pay attention to Hoffa who was standing behind LeMay.

"Don't find a servant to serve you?" Nico Lemay asked "at will" when he took the water glass: "For example, house elves or something? A person in a high position like you, it must be very tiring to do everything by yourself. Right."

Barty Crouch's eyes became sharp, "This has nothing to do with you. I heard that you have a trade project to discuss."

He was sitting awkwardly, like a diplomat sitting in the United Nations, but at this moment, Nico LeMay, who was disguised as Ali Bashir, rolled his eyes and stopped speaking.

Hoffa hurriedly bent over to take a look, secretly murmuring something bad, and saw Nico Lemay roll his eyes, a trace of saliva spilled from the corner of his mouth, and the old man was demented again.

He quickly took off his sunglasses, his golden eyes turned black, and explained: "I'm sorry, Director Crouch, my uncle drank too much wine last night, and he is not in good spirits today."

Looking at the drooling man in front of him, Barty Crouch made no secret of disgust, but when he saw Hoffa’s appearance, he was taken aback and frowned and asked, "You are Hogwar. Did Ci graduate?"

"No."

Hoffa's heart jumped: "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Batty murmured. "You look a bit like our college legend."

"Is it?"

Hoffa grinned, his face twitched.

He noticed that the decorations in Batty Crow's house were more blue, and there were eagle designs in some places.

But Batty didn't seem to think much. He sat across from Hoffa with a stiff expression: "Since your uncle is not in good shape, let's do it. If you are not ready, help him away quickly."

So Hoffa had a serious look and said solemnly: "I am here this time to talk to you about the embargo on flying carpets. As you know, the exchanges between wizards have become more frequent in recent years. I Uncle hopes, can we relax a little bit on this regulation? After all, you have embargoed flying carpets since 1954..."

"No." Barty Crouch gave a light cough and said unsmilingly: "The bill is the bill. We really don't plan to introduce magic flying carpets in these years."

"Does this violate the International Wizarding Free Trade Act? After all, other countries are doing business with us seriously. You must know that British flying broomsticks can also be circulated in the international market."

Hoffa wrangled solemnly and moved his eyes to the back of the kitchen without leaving a trace. He could feel that behind the kitchen bar, there were a pair of panic eyes and a pair of pricked ears.

Butty Crouch said meticulously: "It is not that foreign countries have not imposed tariffs on our flying broomsticks. Every country is different..."

Boom!

Suddenly, there was a muffled noise on the ground and a slight shock. Interrupted Barty Crouch.

Hoffa pretended to be surprised, and looked around, "What's wrong, something is ringing."

A trace of helplessness and irritability flashed in the eyes of the old Barty Crouch. He stood up and said, "Well, it’s useless for you to find me. The embargo on the magic flying carpet is because it is a woven fabric and is magically cast, but it’s easy. Being mistaken as a carpet by Muggles has violated the Wizarding Secrecy Act, so it cannot be circulated in this country. I have my own country in Britain, Mr. Bashir, my suggestion is to find Arthur from the Department of Prohibition of Abuse of Magic Affairs. Wesby, if he can lift the secrecy regulations on the magic flying carpet, we will talk in detail when that time comes."

He looked like he was going to see off the guests, and Hoffa pretended to have an unpleasant look on his face, but he still helped Nicol LeMay to stand.

"thanks for your advice."

"You're welcome, I wish you a happy watching."

"You too."

The two shook hands, then Hoffa helped Nicol LeMay out of the house.

Coming to the shade of an inconspicuous tree, Hoffa grabbed Nicol Lemay's shoulder and shook it vigorously.

After being shaken so hard, Nicole Le May awoke, and after looking around for a few times, he patted his chest: "Ah, I just... fell asleep."

"This can fall asleep, I am worried that you will be up to the task of monitoring Voldemort."

"Isn't it because I didn't sleep well last night? I got up at three in the morning."

Nicole Mayer murmured: "Don't talk about me, the Death Eater in Azkaban prison, Barty Crouch Jr., is really in that tent."

Hoffa nodded slowly: "Yes, I'm sure."

Nicole LeMay took a breath, "It's actually here, this old guy is really courageous enough to get his son out."

After a pause, he asked again: "Then what are you going to do, go to him now?"

Hoffa squinted, looked at the sun that had climbed to the center of the sky, and shook his head:

"No, this is not a place for hands-on exercises, and it is not the time. By the end of the night, everyone from the Ministry of Magic is going to watch the game.