The waves of the River Thames crashed against the rocks, rolling up layers of spray.
The sky was mottled in a gloomy gray fog. In the distance, the towering Big Ben stood in the thick industrial smoke, no different from 50 years later.
1938, London Wood Orphanage.
This was a square, gloomy and old-fashioned building.
The origins of the orphanage were unknown. Some said it was to help the children of soldiers who died in World War I, some said it was a medieval church where prisoners of the Black Death were imprisoned. There were many different stories, but it only proved one thing.
This place was very dilapidated.
Densely packed wires were entwined in the sky, and houses were messily stacked on the gray stone ground. There was no beauty to speak of.
A large iron gate completely separated this place from the busy streets outside. The ground was filled with white smoke, and the rusty manhole cover gurgled out water vapor. Even the rainwater would be blocked in front of the sewer.
In a room in the basement of the orphanage.
A little boy's eyes were closed as if he was sleeping.
He was only about 11 years old, with short black hair and pale skin. His mixed blood face could be considered delicate, but his bruised forehead completely ruined his appearance.
He lay on the bed, twitching from time to time as if he was in great pain.
Knock knock.
Outside the door, there was a polite knock, but the boy did not wake up.
After a while.
Knock knock knock!!
The knocking on the door became louder.
…
Hoffa woke up from a nightmare. He suddenly got up and touched his head and his crotch. After finding that there were no missing parts, he was relieved.
He was still alive.
Sniffing, he smelled a sour and musty smell.
In front of him was not the scene of an exploding cinema, but a dirty and dark room.
Hoffa looked at his palms in shock. They were white and thin.
Suddenly, an intense pain surged up from his head. His eyes rolled back and he fell straight down again. In a daze, he heard the knocking on the door. It seemed to be urgent.
….
After an unknown amount of time, Hoffa slowly recovered from the pain.
There was a part of memory that did not belong to him in his mind.
He was still called Hoffa, but he was no longer the Hoffa from Earth. The Hoffa from Earth was an ordinary student from Huaxia on Earth. He was all alone. He had no house, no car, and no money. His only hobby was to save money to buy books and watch movies.
But one day, when he was watching an IMAX movie, there was an explosion in the theater, and he was sent to this damned place.
His full name was now Hoffa Bach.
He was a child who grew up in an extremely ordinary orphanage.
Some of his remaining memories told him that the original owner of this body was tricked into going to a seaside cave during a picnic organized by the orphanage. There, he fell off the cliff and into the cold sea. When she was brought back to the orphanage, she was already on the verge of death, which allowed Hoffa to take advantage of her.
All the boy remembered was the streets of London overflowing with sewage. Other than that, he had never been to any other place. He didn't know what a phone or computer was, and he didn't know about the internet either. He only saw old cars emitting black smoke on the streets, and black umbrellas that could be seen everywhere …
Hoffa thought hard, trying to search for some information that could help him survive from the broken memories.
He shook his head, and some fragmented memories came back to him.
His father in this life was a native of Huaxia. He came to Europe to escape the war, but died in a foreign land during the First World War.
The surname Bach behind his name was probably related to his mother in a foreign country.
But Hoffa had no memories of his mother at all.
…
"An orphan … I actually transmigrated!"
Hoffa rubbed his head and exhaled a mouthful of turbid air. He didn't care about transmigration. After all, he didn't have anything to worry about in his previous life. But this starting template was a bit too weak.
He took a closer look at his surroundings.
A dirty bed, a broken wooden table, and a few faded posters of soldiers on the wall.
There was also a British Shorthair cat hanging from the ceiling.
That's right, the cat was hanging stiffly from the ceiling, looking extremely miserable.
The cat's name came to Hoffa's mind.
Ah Duo.
It was the best friend of the owner of this body in his previous life.
An inexplicable annoyance appeared in his heart. Hoffa had an extreme feeling of disgust. Who was it? Who wanted to hang an innocent and pitiful cat here in front of its owner?
He didn't have time to search for the culprit from his memory.
…
There was a soft knock outside the door and the sound of a key opening the door.
Patter!
Suddenly, the closed door bounced open with a bang, as if someone had kicked it hard.
Hoffa was scared and took a step back.
There were two people standing outside the door, a man and a woman.
He was very familiar with the woman. Hoffa pulled out her identity from his memory the moment he saw her.
It was Mrs. Cole.
The administrator of the Wu's Orphanage, a skinny woman who was always a little anxious.
And beside her stood a very unexpected guest.
This was a strange old gentleman. Hoffa could only think so. Because this person's appearance and the environment here did not fit in. He had blue eyes and a long nose that seemed to have been broken. His long auburn beard and long hair were tied up neatly in Zizi. He wore an exquisite velvet suit and held a cane and a top hat in his hand.
Hoffa did not doubt that the clothes were custom-made by Saville Street. But what surprised him was not the old gentleman's outfit.
It was his beard and hair. He felt that this person looked a little familiar.
"Tom, someone is here to see you..."
The skinny Mrs. Cole said casually. But then, she jumped up like a cat whose tail was stepped on.
"Wait a minute, why are you here? Hoffa! Did he snatch your room? "
Hoffa was still thinking about who the familiar old man in front of him was. He didn't react to Mrs. Cole's words for a long time.
The old man had already walked into the room. He looked around and sighed in front of the hanged cat. Then he stood in front of Hoffa. The pair of deep blue eyes under the long nose looked calmly at Hoffa.
Then he stretched out his long fingers and stroked the bruise on Hoffa's head.
"Poor child..."
The wound on his head felt like it was healing. A bolt of lightning flashed through Hoffa's mind. He looked at the door plate in disbelief.
It was written in crooked English.
[Tom Ma Volo Riddle]
Damn! Ha... Harry Potter's world?
I'm the Lord Voldemort!?
Hoffa's mind was a little confused for a moment. But soon, he realized that he was thinking too much.
He was Hoffa. He was just staying in the Lord Voldemort's room. As for the reason, he immediately knew from his memory.
This was an orphanage. He was a well-behaved child in his previous life. He was very loved by the orphanage's caretaker. His room was on the first floor and could be exposed to sunlight. Tom's room was in the basement.
Tom Riddle, the young Lord Voldemort, coveted his room, so he tricked Hoffa into the cave. After a series of threats failed, he pushed Hoffa off the cliff.
Before he could lament the tragic experience of his previous life, the world, the era, the story... all kinds of complicated information rushed into his mind. Hoffa's eyes widened.
The old man treated Hoffa's wound. Then he turned to Mrs. Cole and sighed. "Take me to see Tom."
Mrs. Cole nodded and prepared to take him away.
The two of them walked to the door. Hoffa finally reacted. He pointed at the old man's back and almost blurted out.
"Deng... Deng... Deng Buyi..."
Dumbledore with a brown beard turned around in surprise. His forehead wrinkled a few times and his blue eyes widened.
The air was a little quiet.
Hoffa quickly covered his mouth. Damn it! He was not careful enough. In shock, he did not control his mouth.
After all, the old man was the world's top wizard. He had a hundred ways to expose his secret. Truth Serum, Mind Stealing Curse... Although he felt that Dumbledore would probably not use these methods, it was always better to be careful.
If he was discovered to have taken over, who knows what this mysterious magical world would do to him.
However, Dumbledore did not intend to let Hoffa go. He asked softly, "Have we met before?"
Hoffa covered his mouth and shook his head like a rattle.
"Then how do you know my name?"
Dumbledore took a step forward.
Hoffa took a step back.
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