Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

London.

Broken cauldron bar.

A few people were sitting in the shabby dark storefront. Among them, a middle-aged man had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder and his gray hair was messy and disorderly. The other drinkers flipped through the newspapers, talking with each other.

"This year's Triwizard Tournament is really huge."

"Who said no, I actually invited people other than the magic school to watch the game, and also gave out such a high amount of reward."

"The number of tentative viewers has risen to 100,000, including fairies, horsemen, and veils. The number of viewers is twice that of the Quidditch World Cup."

"Ho! It's a big deal, can Hogwarts sit so many people?"

"I heard that the principals of the three major magic schools set up super stands at the same time in the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest, which can accommodate more than 300,000 people."

"Are you going, I heard that there will be a lottery."

"Go, it's silly not to go, everyone who received the news went."

......

The conversations of the few middle-aged men next to him penetrated into Hoffa's brain like an electric drill, making him sober. He couldn't help asking the boss for a glass of wine, and drank slowly.

At this moment, three full days have passed since Barty’s death. Within three days, under the action of the septic potion, Hoffa lost his powerful night combat ability and recovery ability, and he had to find a hidden place to deal with himself. Wounds.

Miller disappeared, Barty Jr. died, Dumbledore lost his memory, and Nicol LeMay rebelled. At this moment, there is no other helper by his side, but his opponent has become stronger with the passage of time.

Voldemort, Grindelwald, and the destiny that is ubiquitous.

Although there is no memory of the past, the sense of sight is still emerging before his eyes from time to time, reminding him that this is not the first time this has happened.

Creak.

The stone wall leading to Diagon Alley separates to both sides.

More than a dozen people came out from Diagon Alley in an orderly manner. They carried some daily necessities for wizards, one by one, neatly like ants.

In just three days, most of the people Hoffa saw had become indifferent, numb, ruthless, silent, like walking diamonds as he had seen in the nightmare world.

An inexplicable dream, like a plague, quietly spread across every inch of the world, turning most of the people he saw into walking dead.

As for why they became like this and what they were dreaming about, Hoffa probably knew, but he didn't want to think about it, let alone admit it.

He has never felt lonely and helpless like this moment.

At this time, the hump-backed barkeeper placed a glass of spirits in front of Hoffa, and Hoffa, who had never drank, picked up the glass and groaned and drank it, his throat burning like a fire.

Under the influence of alcohol, he temporarily forgot the huge mountain pressure around him.

"Continued Cup."

He said.

So the barkeeper added another glass to him, he hesitated for a moment, raised the glass and drank it. The pungent power rushed into his body, making the world in front of him a little blurred. This was the first time he discovered the joy of drinking.

No, maybe not the first time....

Because with the fun comes a strong sense of sight.

It’s by no means the first time that he has been sitting in a bar and drinking. If he’s guessing right, he’d probably drank thousands of times in the Broken Cauldron Bar. Fill up the entire Lake Berga.

Grumbling.

The wine glass is full and full after drinking.

The vicissitudes of the middle-aged man at the moment looks like a man crushed by life. The bar owner is probably used to seeing this kind of person, and he will be familiar with drinking and drinking.

After the tenth cup.

The barkeeper automatically raised the flask, intending to continue it for him.

Hoffa covered his cup.

"No more?"

Asked the humpback owner of the Broken Cauldron Bar.

"No more."

Hoffa shook his head.

The bald boss of the Broken Cauldron Bar wiping the glass stopped and smiled faintly: "As expected, it is the person I like. I can restrain it at this time."

Hoffa raised his head and looked at the crouched cauldron bar owner with a bald head. He is much older than he was 50 years ago. He still remembered the first time he came to the Broken Cauldron Bar alone, the old man was younger than himself.

"Did you think about it?" the bar owner asked inexplicably.

"What are you thinking about?" Hoffa asked rhetorically.

"Think about accepting my invitation." The bar owner shrugged and smiled.

Hoffa looked at him, his drunken eyes gradually clear.

The hunchback man in front of him had deep eyes that could almost **** the soul in. Those eyes were definitely not something a barkeeper could have.

"Are you... little monster?"

He was slightly surprised.

"Yes." The bar owner said calmly, "Sure enough, you didn't get confused by a pair of skins."

"Ho!"

Hoffa couldn't help pushing the cup aside. He was completely different from the last time he saw the God of Nightmare. Last time she was not enchanting like a mortal, but this time she was ugly like a beggar.

"These..." Hoffa pointed to the people who wandered around like walking dead. "You did it?"

"It's not me, this is the result of world interference."

The nightmare **** took away Hoffa's empty glass and wiped it, "I told you that this time and space is based on your stopping Silby Spencer.

But you have not returned to the past for a long time, no one stopped the past half-man king, the entire normal time and space will become a paradox.

The result of Silby Spencer's victory will gradually swallow the result of your victory.

The past world will cover the normal world you see, and this is everything you see. "

"No one can escape?"

Hoffa couldn't help but think of Dumbledore, who was clearing his memory the first time he saw him, and when he saw him again, he could no longer recognize himself.

"No matter how powerful a wizard is, he can't escape his fate. Recognize the reality, Hoffabach." The Nightmare God asked in a vicissitudes of life: "Did you think about it?"

"What if I think about it?" Hoffa asked.

"You will be my spokesperson, and I will give you the power to overcome everything, Riddle, Grindelwald, Spencer. Anyone who dares to stop you will be dragged by you into an eternal nightmare."

"Let me be the **** of nightmares?"

"It's understandable, but it won't be too long."

"What's the price?"

Hoffa asked bitterly.

"You understand."

The nightmare **** said quietly.

"Go back fifty years ago and beat Silby."

"of course."

boom!

Hoffa slapped the table sullenly.

"Why must it be me?"

The Nightmare God calmly wiped the wine glass and looked at Hoffa with deep eyes without saying a word, until he didn't want to look at himself again.

Hoffa stood up and went out without paying.

The sunlight outside the door was icy and dazzling, and the cold winter wind swept across his neck like a knife.

Long-term memories came to his mind, and he suddenly wanted to walk away. So he Apparated and disappeared in place.

......

......

When he reappeared, he appeared in a cemetery near Grasmere and Lake Rydal.

Here, the priest was digging a hole, digging out piles of brown soil. There are also a group of black men in long dresses with serious faces. They wear unusually high hats, gleaming black boots, and carry a black wooden box. At this moment, the man in the priest's robe was talking loudly, and the women were crying.

The crying sound made Hoffa feel calm. It seemed that only at this time did he feel the ultimate of all things. He looked at the thorny forest under his feet and began a long trek.

Not knowing how many branches and thorns were crushed, he came near a hillside. It was covered with frost, thorns and tall shrubs died on the hillside, and the withered rose branches shattered in the harsh winter.

He rubbed his hands, exhaled a white breath, and started searching according to his memory. It didn't take long before he found a collapsed rusty metal fence on the hillside. Two tombstones were faintly visible in the fence.

The tombstone was covered with withered moss, and he cleared the branches and moss in this area, revealing the ambiguous names of Fatir and Aglaia below.

This is the first time in fifty years that he can face the past so frankly.

In a sense, his life has long been fulfilled. The old man left himself a huge amount of wealth, enough to do whatever he wants in the world, but the irony is that only what he really wants , But he can never really get it.

He was born in this world until now, he has always been alone.

If he can, he really wants to sit on the beach with the person he loves so much, watching the sunset fall from the beach, revealing the sky full of stars, listening to the sound of the waves, and no more words. But my heart clearly told myself that I would never be alone again.

But it doesn't work.

It must not work.

It just doesn't work.

It just doesn't work.

Absolutely not.

The **** above his head is perverted and crazy like a child, preferring to watch him die 6,000 times, even 60,000 times, 600 million times, 6 trillion times, rather than let him get what he wants.

He touched the tombstone, then sat down, and began to think about the two people's tombstones, thinking about the past, thinking about the future, thinking about the meaning of his life, thinking about why life is so difficult.

The more he thinks, the more he feels small, and the more he thinks, the more he feels that what he is doing is meaningless.

But the more so, the more unwilling he was, the more he wanted to do something.

"Little monster." He whispered softly.

As soon as the voice fell, in the shadow of the whirling tree, the priest who was reciting the eulogy a hundred meters away suddenly stopped talking, the crowd fell silent, the women stopped crying, and the men stopped digging. The crowd spread out to both sides.

The headed priest tidyed up his robes, separated the bushes, and stepped on the thorns to come to Hoffa, with an unpredictable smile, and asked again: "Did you think about it?"

"Is this world a dream?" Hoffa asked the nightmare god.

"I can't answer, but from your perspective, no. At least it's not Silby Spencer's creation."

Hoffa slowly turned his head, "You know my future, don't you? You know my reincarnation, right?"

"Sorry, I don't know."

The pastor shook his head: "But I have learned from thousands of years of experience that you have no choice but to take responsibility for your future."

"If I go back, how do you want me to go back?" Hoffa couldn't help asking.

"Dreamland can take you across the world of time illusion and the deep world of causality." The priest's light footsteps circled Hoffa. "Like a dancer, jumping from one point to another, as long as you don't The principle of polluting the world."

"I don't understand, Hoffa said.

"In short, as long as you obey your destiny, I can take you back in time."

"Can you come back?"

"No, I will only help you until the moment you defeat the half-man king. After that, you will have no meaning to me."

"Oh, you are honest." Hoffa couldn't help but laughed at himself. He then asked: "But Grindelwald is stopping me, he wants to destroy this world directly. If he succeeds, both worlds will exist. It loses its meaning, has it?"

"Of course, if you don't want this to happen, you can do the same as Silby."

"same?"

"Drag Gellert Grindelwald into the dream and seal it up. I have this ability. As long as you promise to go back in time, I can help you defeat Grindelwald and help you get revenge."

"I am different from Silby, and different from anyone." Hoffa denied without hesitation.

"Words are pale, I only believe in deeds." said the nightmare god.

Hoffa didn't speak, he thought of his future form he had seen in the underworld.

The future self agreed to the deal with the nightmare god, became the new nightmare god, and dragged Grindelwald into the nightmare, then returned to the past, waiting for the future self to visit.

Reaper saw this ending, so he let himself go without caring. One's own destiny has formed a complete circle, and even people related to their own destiny can't escape this circle. They and themselves cycle in this cycle again and again, losing their memories again and again, including themselves. , The only one who remembers everything is Aglaia in the underworld.

"Otherwise, do I have no choice?"

Hoffa asked the **** of nightmares.

"No, at least I can't see it."

The priest in the robes said very confidently.

"You will accept your destiny, and you will definitely."

In the face of his certainty, this time, Hoffa could no longer say that easily—but I refused.

He felt like a gray hare chased by a hound in the wasteland. No matter how fast he ran, no matter how far he ran, the hound could always catch up with him, find him, and eat him.

But his heart was always full of unwillingness, and that unwillingness was so strong that he couldn't agree to the guy in front of him and accept the established fate.

So he took a step back and tried to leave the gaze of the nightmare god.

But this seemed to be of no avail. The men digging in the cemetery and the weeping women all surrounded him.

He stepped back and ran into a woman wearing black silk. The woman said, "We are destined to be connected. That's why you feel kind to me and why I came to you for help."

So Hoffa immediately changed directions, but this time he ran into a man carrying a shovel.

The man carrying the shovel said: "Rebelling is an extremely painful thing, and most of the time it is meaningless. If you are compliant sooner or later, obeying early will save you many detours."

There are countless avatars of the Nightmare God, and each of them can speak, but they all have the same profound eyes as the universe.

The crowd gathered here made Hoffa feel uneasy and oppressed in his heart. He pushed away the women and priests beside him, and left in strides in a random direction. The crowd wandered around behind him, not hurriedly.

He walked faster and faster along the road, and finally when he entered the city, those who chased him finally disappeared.

But at this time, all the pedestrians on the road turned their heads, looked at him, and said blankly:

"You will accept it, you will!"