Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

As night fell, Hoffa was awakened by a certain excitement and fanatical emotion from meditation. Even across the tent, he could feel the tremor and enthusiasm of the air. That is the expectation of thousands of wizards,

Open the curtain of the peacock tent.

In the purple-red night, orange lights were everywhere.

Some foreign wizards have their upper bodies and pythons on their shoulders. The magic wands in their hands spray out silver ribbons of light, floating in the air like branches.

Whenever they juggled the strip. The onlookers would applaud and applaud. Some fanatical Quidditch fans even held hands and danced around the improvisational wizards, shouting unexplained slogans.

On the left hand side ten meters or so, there are a group of fire wizards. They hold small red pipes and inhale deeply with their mouths. When they open their mouths, they spit out flames like a fire dragon.

The flames formed various shapes in the air, including zebras, reindeer, and goldfish. They twisted their bodies in the air, and after a moment of brilliance, they disappeared.

However, every time it is brilliant, it will bring cheers.

On the other side, a few hawkers pushing trolleys descended from the sky, holding trays, which were filled with strange things. There are glowing rose-shaped badges-green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria-and scream the names of the players.

This reminds Hoffa of the light sticks and signs that fans will hold when they go to the idol concerts in the future. Although they are cheap, the number of people is large, and the shaking is very spectacular.

It was night at the moment, and he was in full vigor, and the idea of ​​looking for Harry came to his mind again, but when he looked around, he felt that he took it for granted. Finding someone out of 100,000 wizards is undoubtedly looking for a needle in a haystack.

At this time, an unknown Quidditch fan in the distance opened the beer and sprayed it all around, as if toppling a domino. Not to be outdone, the men who were splashed with beer shook the beer one after another, spraying each other with foam.

The person spilled by the beer not only didn't evade, but laughed. Only those hawkers who do business helplessly prop up umbrellas on their carts, and they seem to be prepared.

Perhaps happiness can be contagious. Looking at these carnival wizards, Hoffa couldn't help but feel better. He grinned, and the beer liquid falling in the air turned into a flying ball before it touched his collar. Butterflies are flying around.

Suddenly, hula la, a group of people surrounded him.

"What kind of curse is that, one more one, brother!"

A man who had just finished drinking, a mouthful of alcohol, wrapped in the Irish national team's shawl, hooked his shoulders.

"That's Transfiguration. At first glance, the school didn't teach it well, and the curse was returned!" The knowledgeable person mocked.

"Haha," the drinking man laughed roughly: "Whatever magic is he, it's so good, let's have another one."

Several Boothbarton girls also stopped and stood in the distance, looking at Hoffa wrapped in butterflies, whispering to each other, and laughing with their mouths covered.

Hoffa shook his head with a smile, and refused the request of passersby. He felt that he had something to do at night and didn't want to attract too much attention.

But at this time, a few children in the tent next door emerged from the crowd and reached out to catch the butterfly beside him. The butterfly flew very fast, they didn't catch it, so they had to grab Hoffa's trousers.

"Big brother, change again."

"Will you become candy?"

Hoffa thought for a while, bent down, smiled and asked the little girl who was holding his robe, "Is it really coming?"

The little girl wearing a unicorn headgear nodded vigorously. The corner of Hoffa’s mouth raised and caught a flying colorful butterfly. He placed the butterfly in front of the little girl and shook it. The butterfly turned into a small blowpipe in his hand. He held the blowpipe in his mouth, and immediately, thousands of colorful bubbles flew out of his mouth, and those bubbles went straight into the sky.

"I want bubbles, I want bubbles..."

The kid under him jumped up, trying to catch the air bubble.

Hoffa smiled, took off the blowpipe in his mouth, turned it into a transparent bubble, bent over and handed it to the little girl wearing a unicorn headgear next to him, and winked at his playful single eye.

The little girl laughed and crushed the bubbles with her companion.

As a result, all the bubbles in the sky made a crackling roar at the same time, turning them into colorful fireworks, blooming strangely, struggling with each other, illuminating everyone's faces, beautifully.

The crowd screamed and cheered in shock, pointing to the sky.

A few little wizards holding Hoffa's robes looked at the sky stupidly, the boss with his mouth open, his eyes gleaming with longing. Afterwards, the fireworks fell from the sky and turned into countless colorful candies.

The woman was laughing, holding her head, screaming and hiding from the candy. The children rushed to the ground and scrambled for candy.

"It's an amazing transfiguration technique."

A light sigh came from behind, Hoffa turned around and saw Nico Lemay standing behind him, exclaiming with deep emotion, "Even if Merlin is alive, that's nothing more."

"Juggling, who doesn't know how to do it, is all fake."

Hoffa shrugged: "Didn't this deceive you?"

Before the crowd of people picking up the candy on the ground had time to eat it, the candy became the first drink, flowing away from their hands, and they all sighed. When they looked back to find the magical wizard, he had disappeared from the crowd.

At this time, there was a deep and thick gong sound from somewhere in the distance of the forest. Immediately, thousands of red, green and green lanterns bloomed on the trees, illuminating the road to the stadium.

The crowd immediately forgot the fake candies and yelled at each other. Like a river rushing into the sea, rushing to the golden Quidditch arena.

......

......

At the same time, by the swamp wetland, staff from the Department of Sports and Sports of the Ministry of Magic who had finished their day's work sat in twos and threes on the rocky floodplain of the swamp, or smoked and chatted, or set up a bonfire to prepare food.

Basil was also one of them. When he took out a few frozen sausages from his luggage, countless fireworks exploded in the sky.

"It's really served, even the fireworks are set off, for fear that the Muggles won't notice it?"

A tin bucket containing water was placed by the fire. Basil looked up and said that the complainant was his colleague, Vast.

I saw him sitting by the campfire, taking off his long rubber shoes, and looking at the fireworks in the distance with a dissatisfaction.

"Before, I made repeated orders with us about Muggle secrecy regulations, huh, now it's fine, I guess that fool Ludo Bagman is taking the lead in setting off fireworks."

Basil handed him a grilled sausage and sat in front of the bonfire without raising his head. "You care about them. Who cares about the Muggle secrecy regulations at this time? Eat, eat, and say after you finish. Maybe we can still catch up with the game."

"Why can't I care? The Director of the Sports Department is a human, and I am a human. He is a wizard, and I am also a wizard."

Vast scooped out a pot of water from the bucket and put it on the bonfire and burned it.

"You don't have his passion to explain the game...Wait, don't use the water in the swamp directly, it's not clean."

Basil looked at the kettle on the campfire and said something.

"What's the difference between water? It's really weird."

After that, he opened the kettle carelessly, added some tea to it, and stretched out, "You go tonight, I'm not going."

"You don't like to watch Quidditch?"

Basil looked at Vast like a monster.

"Love, of course love."

Vast rolled his eyes and took a sip of his tea happily: "If I were to satiate my food, lie on a chair comfortably, and let the game mobilize my emotions, I would naturally be willing. But after a day of tiredness, I still watch I am sick during the game. I plan to go to sleep in the tent after eating, and then I will go back to watch the broadcast tomorrow."

Basil was stunned, feeling that what his colleague said made sense. So he looked at other colleagues around him who were chatting and spanking, "Charlie, are you going?"

"Don't go."

The colleague sitting on the rock and smoking shrugged, "I'm a Muggle offspring and I like football."

"How about you, Sona?"

He asked another colleague who was building a tent.

The colleague ignored him, but mechanically hammered nails on the rocky floodplain to prepare a place to sleep at night.

The self-confessing Basil scratched his head, thinking that his colleagues were a little weird.

A cold wind blew through.

Basil shuddered and tightened his clothes tightly. "Don't you feel a little cold?"

"It's cold, maybe it's getting late."

Vast answered with closed eyes.

"No...I think...it's too cold..."

Basil clutched his abdomen and frowned, "It's obviously summer."

No one answered his words, he was the only one who felt cold.

The two quietly ate by the fire for a while. At this time, Vast let go of the sausage, closed his eyes and stood up, his face a little pale.

"Suddenly... I really want to sleep. After eating, go and watch the game by yourself." He stammered.

"Eh, you really don't go!?"

Basil said.

The colleague Vast did not answer him, but turned around mechanically, opened the curtain of the tent, and entered the tent.

Basil was a little puzzled. At this time, there was a deep and deep gong in the distance, and the Quidditch World Cup final began. He hurriedly swallowed the sausage in two mouthfuls, stood up, and walked towards the World Cup stadium.

But when he walked through the entrance with a banner, he couldn't help but think of his colleagues again. This is the Quidditch World Cup final, so why didn't he come.

After thinking about it, he decided to go back and persuade him.

In the night, he returned to the misty stony beach. His colleagues still smoked, cooked, and pitched tents, but they didn’t talk to each other.

"Sona, are you going to the finals?"

He came to the colleague who was setting up the tent, and saw him clanging on the nails, the nails were clearly smashed into the rock, and he did not stop.

"Sona!?"

He felt wrong and bent over to take a look.

The colleague closed his eyes, numbly raised the hammer, and dropped, raised the hammer, and dropped, looking like he was asleep.

hiss......!

Basil took a deep breath, and the unknown and weird signs increased like blood pressure, and he drew out his wand.

I looked around, but found that my colleague who smoked had smoked the cigarette to his butt, without realizing it, and my friend who was grilling sausages by the campfire had already burnt the sausages. The hazy mist drifted across their faces, and each of them closed their eyes.

"Hey...?"

He shouted tentatively, but no one answered.

His Adam's apple shook up and down and opened Vast's tent curtain.

I saw that my companion in a tweed suit was standing there, nodding his head.

"Vast?"

He gave a tentative cry.

No one answered.

He walked up to his colleague and found that he also closed his eyes and his head kept twitching, just like a student dozing off in class.

"Vast, what's the matter with you?"

He grabbed his companion's shoulder and shook it vigorously.

With this sway, Vast in front of him was like a discouraged ball, and the whole person instantly softened down, as if his colleague was not a flesh and blood body, but an inflated rubber man.

This scene made Basil screamed like crazy, he couldn't bear this strange thing anymore, and rushed out of the tent.

As soon as he got out of the tent, he petrified in place.

Outside the tent, in the mist of the swamp, a large number of men in black military uniforms stood silently in the swamp at night, each wearing a strange birdcage on their heads and holding torches in their hands. The earth is like a sculpture.

The bone-to-the-bone cold wind blew out from behind the men with bird cages, blowing on people. Those bodies that looked like sleepwalking colleagues, like fragments, fell off the skeleton, and turned into masses of dust before landing.

"Ah, he-he-he-they set off!"

In the distance, on the Quidditch pitch, the host Ludo Bagman's scream was clearly visible, "This is Marlet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Pass it to Marlet! Troy! Lefer Ski! Moran!"

By the side of the gloomy swamp wetland, a few soldiers holding torches and wearing bird cages stood silently, lowered the torches, and lit the tent by the swamp.

Suddenly, the flames burst into the sky.

Basil turned his head and said nothing, and ran away.