When Hoffa opened his eyes again, he felt a bone-chilling cold. He didn't know if it was because the winter this year was particularly cold, or because he hadn't felt any warmth in a long time. Maybe it was both.
He slowly got up from the bed. His body made cracking sounds as his bones collided with each other.
The Defense Against Black Magic office was a mess. Some ropes were scattered on the table, and the floor was a mess. It seemed that there had been a violent conflict.
The cold wind blew in through the window. It was about half an hour before dawn, and there was an imperceptible sobbing sound in the cold wind. It was Sparkle, the house elf. She was crying in the corner of the office.
"What happened?" Hoffa asked as he walked to the elf. As soon as he opened his mouth, he was shocked by his own voice. His voice was hoarse and unclear, as if it wasn't himself.
"Master... Master is gone... He took Little Master away..."
Sparkle sobbed as she pointed at the scattered ropes on the floor.
Hoffa looked around. Sure enough, he didn't see Buddy Jr.'s figure.
"Crackle."
There was a soft sound.
Mille controlled Moody's body to stand up and lit the fireplace in the office.
With the flickering light in the fireplace, Hoffa caught a glimpse of his own appearance in the glass.
A few months had passed. His hair, which had been burned in the fire, had all grown back. However, he had stayed in Hörheim for too long and used up too much of his life. At this moment, he had changed from a teenager to a middle-aged man with soulless eyes. Gray hair hung down from his thin forehead. Under the deep wrinkles on his cheeks was a pair of dark golden eyes. He was more haggard than ever.
"Buddy Jr was taken away by his father."
Hoffa said to Mille, who was squatting in front of the fireplace.
"You still have the energy to care about him at this time?" Mille said weakly. "Did you hear Aglaia's words? Six thousand times, Merlin Beard... What exactly are we going through? "
"Yes."
Hoffa muttered. He looked at his withered hands and was unusually calm. "Six thousand times. If my fate has been repeated six thousand times, then the fate of Buddy Jr and his father has also been repeated six thousand times."
"Patricide."
"It's not just patricide. Both of them are walking towards death."
Hoffa recalled that in the original work, Old Barty was killed, and Buddy Jr's soul was sucked dry by the Soul Catcher. This fate was probably one of the six thousand cycles. It could not be changed or defied.
"What are you thinking, Hoffa? What should we do next?!" Mille threw away the poker and rubbed his head anxiously.
"The previous method won't work. It's meaningless. I've got to find Dumbledore. I've got to find anyone I know. "
Hoffa put down his palms, the fire in his golden eyes burning again. "I've been avoiding being discovered by Dumbledore, but that must be part of Death's binding of my fate. I have to break the rules and find a way out of this impasse."
With that, he got up and left the Defense Against Black Magic class office. Mille hurried after him. "How do you know that you didn't think this way six thousand times? I mean, if you thought this way, then you must have thought this way the other times. "
"Then do you have any better suggestions?"
"I suggest you don't do anything and find a place to live in seclusion. Who cares about the consequences? "
"How do you know that I didn't listen to you six thousand times?"
Hoffa did not stop walking.
.....
At this time, the sky had just brightened in Hogwarts, but the sky was so gloomy that not a single ray of sunlight could be seen. The frozen snow was so hard that it creaked when running on it. The students in the morning huddled in their robes, holding their books as they hurried past, their faces expressionless.
At this moment, it should be the end of Christmas, the end of the second event of the Trifecta, and the beginning of the third event. The castle was full of students from other magic schools. Durmstrang's students wore thick brownish-black cloaks, and Boothbottom's students wore silver-gray tasseled robes.
As he brushed past the students, Huo Fa began to feel a little puzzled. Although there were many students in the school, there were no words spoken between the students. In such a big school, there was no one talking. It was unavoidably frightening.
"What happened?"
He asked Mille.
"It's been like this since Christmas."
Mille replied, "I don't know what happened either."
The silent stream of people carrying textbooks quietly passed by the two of them, heading towards the school's auditorium. It was so precise that there was no friction, like a puppet being pulled by strings.
"Damn it!"
Hoffa strode against the flow of people, heading for the top floor of the castle. The bustling magic school had been transformed into the center of the strange. He was very eager to get out of this damned cycle and change his own fate. If he could, he also hoped to change the fate of the people around him, including the students who had fallen into the dream. But he did not know how to do it, so he could only pin his hopes on Dumbledore.
Before he reached the top floor, he saw many news reporters from the wizarding society. They were gathered in rows in front of Dumbledore, holding up their flashlights, pushing and shoving, and making a lot of noise. They looked much more normal than the quiet students.
"What happened?"
Hoffa searched his memory, but he could not recall such a thing happening in the original book. For the first time, history had deviated from his understanding, which made him both worried and happy.
Not long after, a white-haired old man wearing a pointed wizard hat and a gray robe came down the spiral stairs of the office. It was the current headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.
"Professor, Professor Dumbledore!"
Hoffa called out to Dumbledore. He parted the crowd and strode to Dumbledore's side, pressing on his shoulder and turning him around. "Professor Dumbledore, it's me. Do you still remember me?
”
The people around them looked at Hoffa in surprise. Dumbledore's blue eyes were lowered, looking at him through the half-moon lenses, his blue eyes flashing with confusion.
Dumbledore's calm expression made Hoffa feel uneasy, but at this time, he could not care less. He immediately leaned in to Dumbledore's ear. "Listen, you have to stop the tournament. This tournament is the opportunity for Tom Liddell's resurrection. He asked me to come over and make the door key into a trophy, and send Harry Potter over at the end of the tournament so that he can be resurrected."
Hoffa spoke very quickly. "If you don't want to see people die, if you don't want to see a war break out in the future, you have to stop the tournament now."
After saying this in one breath, Hoffa's heart thumped. He looked at Dumbledore expectantly, hoping that he would believe his words and change immediately.
After hearing this, Dumbledore could not help but laugh. He patted Hoffa's shoulder. "I understand. Wait a moment. After I'm done with the press conference, I'll talk to you in detail."
After saying this, he did not wait for Hoffa to express his opinion. He stretched out his hands and said to the reporters, "Listen up, I'm going to announce today's major event."
Suddenly, the reporters below him were in an uproar. They raised the magnesium light in their hands, and the white light was so bright that it almost blinded the eyes of the people.
Hoffa was very weak during the day, and the blinding white light was even more uncomfortable. He had to cover his eyes and hide in a corner. But after seeing Dumbledore, he had a plan in his heart. If he could get his help, he should have a high chance of breaking this damned cycle.
Dumbledore said, "This year, the Tournament of the Top Three will be held in Hogwarts as scheduled. So far, it has been a great success. Our four warriors have cut through all obstacles and completed two difficult challenges. The Wizard Society has also expressed the corresponding attention to us. However, this level of attention is far from enough …"
After a pause, he laughed. "For this reason, I announce that on the night of the final, the audience who comes to Hogwarts to watch the final of the Tournament of the Top Three will not only be exempted from the ticket, but will also receive a reward of one hundred gold Galleons per person. For this, we even have a super grand prize of ten thousand gold Galleons for all the audience to have a free lucky draw chance. Anyone who comes to watch the tournament will have a chance to win …"
Hoffa, who was in the corner, was dumbfounded. What!?
He looked at Dumbledore, who was smiling in the crowd, and could not say a word for a long time.
After Dumbledore finished reading a long list of reward measures, the reporters were in an uproar. They passed their microphones in front of Dumbledore.
"Principal Dumbledore, is what you said true!?"
"Did the Ministry of Magic agree with your measures?"
"When will the last round of the tournament begin?"
"What drove you to make this decision?"
.....
Hoffa carefully looked at the old man in the crowd and finally noticed a trace of strangeness. The Elder Wand that was stuck on Dumbledore's waist was now faintly overflowing with some kind of dark energy. The energy was completely invisible to the naked eye.
Seeing the Sacred Weapon of Death and Dumbledore's strange behavior, Hoffa's heart dropped straight to the bottom. The hope that had just been born was instantly shattered. He thought of the night when he first met Mille and mistakenly barged into Dumbledore's office. At that time, Dumbledore was a little strange. Now, he faintly realized what was going on.
Surrounded by reporters, Dumbledore even looked at Hoffa with a smile. Hoffa's inner uneasiness immediately expanded into fear. It was now daytime, and he did not have any ability to fight head-on.
A pair of hands pulled him from the crowd. He turned around and saw Mille.
"Let's go."
Mille used the magic eye to stare at Dumbledore, pulled Hoffa and turned around to leave, and walked out of the castle without looking back.
The two hurriedly walked down the swaying magic stairs. Dumbledore, who was surrounded by reporters holding magnesium lights, did not stop them. He did not even look at them.
"Dumbledore has been controlled by someone. We have to get out of here quickly." Mille said irritably.
"He can't recognize me."
Hoffa thought of the last time they met. Dumbledore was constantly retrieving memories from his mind. Perhaps the memories of himself and fifty years ago had already been taken out and sealed in a glass bottle.
"I shouldn't have come to you, you god of plague." Mille said irritably. "Anyone who has anything to do with you can't escape misfortune. Maybe he thinks so. It's safer to forget you."
Hearing Mille's words, Hoffa breathed a sigh of relief.
He thought of the three hundred thousand years Aglaia spent in Hörheim. The small setbacks he experienced were not worth mentioning. He had to find a way to change the cycle.
"Then why don't you use 'Oblivion' on yourself?"
He let go of Mille's hand and even walked in front of him. Mille looked at his back and curled his lips in dissatisfaction and helplessness.
When they reached the castle gate, the temperature in the air was even lower. The sun in the sky was fake and did not bring any warmth.
To make things worse, a cold call came from behind.
"Where are you going, Bach?"
Hoffa's body froze. Mille, who was disguised as Alastor Moody, also stopped moving. A man in a cage sat next to the fountain in the school yard, holding an unfinished book in his hand. He put away the book and slowly stood up. He quietly came to the two of them.
"I thought Hörheim could lock you up. I didn't expect you to escape. "
"Grindelwald."
Hoffa slowly stepped back. He was not surprised. If even Dumbledore could be controlled, then he could not think of anyone else who could do it.
He looked at the sky and took out a tube of septic potion from his waist.
"This is what you want to do? Use the tournament to attract the attention of European Wizards and then gather them in Hogwarts so that you can catch them all in one fell swoop?"
Grindelwald: "That's right. That's what it means to make the best use of everything."
"How did you do it? When did you control Dumbledore? "
"Even the greatest Wizard will be tempted one day. Not to mention, in my eyes, Abusi Dumbledore was never a great Wizard."
As Grindelwald spoke, a black crowd surrounded them from all directions in the Hogwarts. They wore tattered black clothes, held wands, and were expressionless.
Grindelwald shrugged.
"I've already said what needs to be said. What's left is only life and death."
The moment he raised his wand, Hoffa did not hesitate to raise the bottle of septic potion and pour it into his mouth. Just as he raised the potion, a heavy blow landed on his head, smashing the potion in his hand into smithereens.
Grindelwald made his move. He was sent flying more than 20 meters away. He rolled several times on the ground and landed among the students.
The students carrying books silently flowed past him without making a sound.
Hoffa got up from the ground. He saw hundreds of curses shooting at him from all directions like lasers, illuminating his face. He had no room to resist in the daytime.
But before the curses could land on his face, Mille appeared in front of him and raised his wand. The space distorted and the hundreds of curses were transferred to the sky above the Forbidden Forest, exploding into fireworks in the dark sky.
"Little Ghoshak, are you going to attack your own father?"
Grindelwald stood on the high stone steps and looked down at Alastor Moody's body. He sneered. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even exist."
"Don't expect me to be grateful to you for this, Grindelwald. It's not easy to exist."
Mille raised his wand and turned to Hoffa.
"Go, you know the secret passage. It's behind Gregory's statue."
"What are you going to do?!"
Hoffa asked Mille anxiously.
"Don't worry about me. He can't kill me. You go and solve the problem!"
Mille said. He waved his wand and a translucent ring of curses appeared around them, blocking everyone's vision. "Go."
"Damn it!"
Hoffa looked at the broken glass in his hand and the rising sun. He knew that he would only be a burden to Mille if he stayed.
He tore off his clothes and covered his face. He stumbled away from the center of the conflict under the cover of the smoke.
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