Harry Potter: I Am a Legend

As night fell, the twilight gradually subsided, and the cloudless sky turned into a dark purple like bruise, and then sank into darkness.

Hoffa and the God of Nightmare followed the soldiers to their barracks. Compared to the group of dreamers outside, the soldier area seemed very quiet.

Silent campfires lit up in the rolling tents, and piles of soldiers were in groups of twos and threes. Some were roasting the fire, some were cooking, and some were feeding horses.

They are roughly divided into three types, one is plainclothes policemen in police uniforms, the other is soldiers who fired guns on their backs, and the other is the soldiers of the Holy Roman Empire. The shields on their backs are all crosses. And the double-headed eagle, it seems that the age is much older.

Through the soldiers in the barracks, Hoffa can roughly determine the age of Silby’s survival. The Holy Roman Empire should be a matter of his youth. Soldiers who fired guns came from his old age, while those in police uniforms Is a modern law enforcer.

Silby arranged these people here to maintain the stability of the dream, what exactly did he want to do?

Since these soldiers did not communicate with each other, Hoffa could not assemble any information, and he did not dare to speak rashly.

Because he was afraid of revealing things, he followed the group of soldiers indiscriminately. He eats as soon as the soldiers eat. He also trains when the soldiers train. When the soldiers sleep, he sleeps. Of course, not really sleeping.

After all the soldiers in one of his tents were asleep, Hoffa got up from the bed and made a gesture to the outside of the tent.

After the fire, he could see his horse shrinking and stretching, and finally turned into a slim S-shaped figure, turned into the **** of nightmare, turned from a horse back into a human form, opened the curtain and walked in.

Hoffa didn't understand why it had to be transformed into a beauty in daily life, obviously it could become any kind of appearance.

"Can't you change it?" he asked with a smile.

The nightmare **** did not speak, her face was cold, her pace gradually accelerated, and then she threw herself on Hoffa, pressed him on the bed, and pinched his neck with her palm mercilessly, and said cruelly: "Next time you come up with an idea. Before, it’s best to discuss with me, I can cooperate with you, but you’d better not blaspheme."

"Uh...."

Hoffa was pinched, unable to breathe. In the dream world, his physical strength was not as strong as in the real world. In most cases, he was similar to a normal adult.

Suffocated, he did not dare to make a sound, and could only keep breaking the arm of the nightmare god.

The nightmare **** who ate the **** must have been suppressed for a long time. It didn't dare to attack before, but it didn't mean it didn't care.

A second before Hoffa was about to lose consciousness, his neck was loosened, and he suddenly paused on the bed, touching his neck and gasping for breath.

"Think...want to beat...Silby kind of...you don't...how can you do without paying a price."

"Okay, pay the price of eating shit, what do you want to do?" The nightmare **** asked with a sneer: "If you don't go back, I'm afraid that the person outside is really going to die."

"Cough...cough..." Hoffa whispered tremblingly: "I want to enter the subconscious dreamland of the group, you... can you do anything about it."

The nightmare **** was shocked by his thoughts: "Go to another level? That is a double dream. Do you know what that means, all the unstable factors will be multiplied."

"Is it important?" Hoffa resumed breathing.

"It's very important, it's about your life and death. Do you really want to go in?"

"Of course, these soldiers are the incarnation of Silby Spencer's rules. They are equivalent to Silby to some extent. Only by entering their dreams can I know what Silby wants to do."

The **** of nightmares seemed a little hesitant.

A soldier in the barracks turned over and snored, and the two closed their mouths tacitly.

After a moment of silence, Hoffa: "Why, can't you do it?"

"It's not impossible, it's a double dream."

The nightmare **** warned, "It won’t be strange what happens there, and it’s already difficult to get out of this dream. The guy outside is dying. If you can’t find a way to get out before he dies. , The consequence is that there is another vegetative in the world."

"Then can you have a better way?"

Hoffa asked rhetorically.

"It's too risky." The Nightmare God shook his head: "My suggestion is to find a way to get out of here and destroy Silby's body physically."

Hoffa sighed: "I don't want to fight an enemy I don't know anymore.

To be honest, since I met him in the second grade, I have never known his true thoughts. What did he do for blasting Hogwarts, what did he live for so many years, what did he do to untie the curse, life? I don't know what the goal is. "

"You already have the power of time, and you still need to understand what he is doing. As long as you find him, he will definitely not be your opponent in reality." The Nightmare God suggested.

Hoffa laughed mockingly: "I'll be honest, he used time as a weapon 50 years earlier than me, maybe 300,000 years, I don't believe it if he doesn't have a back hand waiting for me."

The nightmare **** pondered for a long time, and finally it compromised: "Let's do this, I will help you enter the second dream, but I will not enter it myself."

Yes, the expected answer, Hoffa thought to himself, it was very divine. In case he died, the God of Nightmare could still find a way to find his next home.

But after going through 6,000 cycles of life and death, he has already seen a lot of things and realized a lot of things.

The gods represent only rules. They don’t have too many emotions. The world needs nightmares, so there is the **** of nightmares, the world needs death, so there is death, the world has night, and all of them have night gods. Each of them cannot dominate the world, nightmares. The **** will not kill himself because of the anger of eating shit, and he cannot use the power of time to do whatever he wants. The God of Nightmare didn't want to put all the bets on himself, but he would do the same. The divine blood in his body told him that the world is above everything else.

"bring it on."

Hoffa closed his eyes.

The nightmare **** pressed his forehead with one hand and the soldier's forehead with the other.

As if being pushed into the water, it started to fall after a plop.

This time the dive time is longer. There is no light in front of him. The sound of water rumbling in his ears is full of the sound of water. The pressure from all directions makes him a little breathless. Gradually, something appears in the dark pool. Up. He closed his eyes, letting the thing drag him, and went upstream.

......

Wow, accompanied by the ease of coming out of the water.

......

He can breathe.

When I opened my eyes, the dream changed again.

Wearing a heavy fur coat, he was standing in a scorched and scorched snowfield, surrounded by chills.

The goose-feather-like snow fell from the dark sky and fell on his shoulders and on the tip of his nose.

Wow, wow!

The sound of neat footsteps came from overhead.

He looked up and saw that he was standing under a city wall. The wall was covered with a staircase built with thick wooden beams, which was firmly nailed to the stone wall. The long staircase twisted and twisted like a bolt of lightning. Up the city wall.

Rows of soldiers ran up the stairs neatly, holding various standard weapons, long axes or bows. Probably preparing for battle or exercise. Each of them carried a shield with a double-headed eagle and a cross on their back.

There is not much difference from the barracks just now, but the atmosphere is more tense.

"Is kerosene ready?"

"almost there!"

"Is the Rolling Stone enough?"

"Not enough."

"If you don't have enough, let the craftsman hurry and pick it up. Also, those 30,000 arrows will come up! Those **** guys may come at any time!"

The noisy commands and commands echoed in Hoffa's ears, and he couldn't help but stand under the city wall and mutter to himself, "What the **** is this?"

He walked toward the city wall, his boots broke through the ice of the cold night, the snow crunched under his feet, and his breath condensed into frost in front of his eyes like a banner. He crossed his chest and walked faster.

"Hey you!"

A soldier saw him and shouted, "What is it for?"

Hula la, a few soldiers who found him threw away the bundle of arrows in their hands, stepped forward, quickened their pace, went through the city wall, surrounded him round and round, some even drew a sharp blade and pointed at his neck:

"Who are you, so face-to-face, are you the spies sent by that group of wizards?"

A spy sent by a wizard?

Hoffa's eyes widened slightly. Are these Muggle soldiers at war with wizards? Why didn't he remember that there was such an occurrence in history.

At this time, a priest in a red robe quickly walked down from the ladder of the city wall: "What's going on, what's going on!?" He asked loudly, "What happened, the noise here?"

"Father Maxk, a stranger has broken in. We suspect that he is a spy sent by Pandora." The soldier replied.

"spy?"

The red-robed priest immediately put his nose in front of Hoffa, and asked, "Are you a spy?"

"No."

"Then tell me when Christ's birthday is." The priest said in a gloomy tone.

"Ah? What?" Hoffa was caught off guard by this question.

"do not know!"

The priest's nostrils suddenly enlarged, "Sure enough, he is a heretic,"

He immediately drew a black-covered "Bible" from his waist. After opening it, he read aloud: "Those who walk in the dark, the servants of the devil and the evil spirits, will surely be purified by the light of the world. Now, succumb Under the spirit of truth, heretics--" The priest closed the book abruptly and said, "Hands!"

The soldiers raised their sharp blades one after another.

"Wait!"

Hoffa raised his hand and shouted, stopping the inexplicable group of soldiers.

"what do you want to say?"

Father Hongpao asked coldly.

"I am an intelligence officer from the rear, who is responsible for handing over information. You dare to do this to me!" Hoffa yelled outrightly: "Fortunately, you ended up like this after running for hundreds of kilometers to save you! You are responsible! Where is the man, I want to see him!"

"Informant?"

The soldiers stared at each other.

The priest looked at him suspiciously: "Do you have evidence?"

Hoffa closed his eyes, took off his gloves, and fumbled for a moment on his chest. When he opened his eyes, he took out a letter sealed in red ink from his pocket and handed it forward: "No, take it yourself Go and see!"

Father Hongpao grabbed the letter in his hand and read it along the handwriting.

Hoffa held his breath. He himself didn't know what was going to be in the letter. Everything was visualized temporarily. Anyway, this is a beautiful dream, and all the wishes within his cognition can be realized.

After Father Hongpao finished reading the letter, his face became uncertain, and he closed the letter, looking very hesitant. The soldier held his breath on the side, silently waiting for the priest's order.

"It's okay to believe, but why don't you even know the birthday of Christ?" The priest was still worried.

Hoffa's expression remained unchanged, "Because I remember his death day, the world was changed from that day on."

The priest looked a little better, and he snorted a little unwillingly, "If you are lucky, I will take you to the pope to see if you will show your feet."

The soldiers let go of Hoffa with expressions of annoyance one after another.

The priest took Hoffa up the city wall and came to a high place, only to realize that there was a huge difference between this and the upper level dream.

The upper level of dreams is some beautiful dream bubbles, full of comical and unreality, but the things in this level of dreams should have happened truly.

Outside the city wall, the trenches were dug one after another, and the spurs were facing outwards neatly and sharply. Various corpses were worn on the thorns, and the corpses were burned into coke in the flames. Some injured horses who lost their owners limped in the flames, some dragged their intestines, and fell to their deaths before they went far.

And in the extreme distance, among the dancing snowflakes, one can vaguely see the opponent's camp. They are shining in the dark with dots of lights, huge and quiet.

war.

The war between wizards and Muggles.

Hoffa wanted to know what was going on here, but he dared not ask, afraid of revealing himself.

He followed the red-robed priest in silence, not knowing how long he had been away.

The priest took him to a church in the middle of the city.

The church has been transformed into a medical center. Countless clergymen in white robes ran around here. They followed the wounded on the sickbed, some of the wounded’s legs were burnt with blood and flesh, leaving only pitch-black bones. The clergyman was helping him saw his legs with a saw, and there was a startling wailing in the air.

It was completely the opposite of the first level of dreams, and Hoffa began to wonder why Silby, what kind of medicine was sold in the gourd, should build a dream based on the nightmare.

He can't understand.

The priest led him through the screaming hall, through the deep corridor, to the door of a bedroom deep in the church, and opened the door.

"Go in, and hand over the task with the Pope."

Father Hongpao said.

pope! ?

Hoffa looked into the bedroom over the shoulders of the priest in the red robe.

It's okay not to look at it, this look shocked him.

There was a four-poster bed in the bedroom. On the four-poster bed was a sickly old man who knew Hoffa well. He has white breath and hair, and a crooked nose.

It was Albus Dumbledore.