Chapter 1 1, Oliver Twist

The waves of the Thames beat on the rocks, rolling up layers of spray.

The sky was mottled in the gloomy gray fog, and in the distance, the towering Big Ben stood amidst the thick industrial smoke, no different from fifty years later.

Wood's Orphanage, London, 1938.

This is a square, gloomy and old-fashioned building.

The origin of the orphanage is untraceable. Some say it was to help the children of soldiers who died in World War I. Some say it was the place where the medieval church held prisoners of the Black Death. The divergent accounts of the origins only suggest one thing.

It's broken here.

Dense electric wires are entwined in the sky, and houses are piled up in a mess on the gray stone ground, which has no aesthetic feeling at all.

A large iron gate completely separates this place from the busy street outside, the ground is filled with foul-smelling white smoke, and the rusted manhole cover is gurgling with water vapor, even the rainwater will be blocked in front of the mouth of the sewer.

A room in the basement of the orphanage.

A young boy appears to be sleeping with his eyes closed.

He was only about eleven years old, with short black hair, pale skin, and a rather delicate face with a mixed-race look, 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.

Boom.

There was a polite knock on the door, but the boy didn't wake up.

after awhile.

Boom boom boom! !

The knocking on the door got louder.

...

Hoffa woke up from the nightmare, he got up suddenly and stroked his head and his crotch. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that there were no missing parts.

I am still alive.

Sniffing, he caught a sour, musty smell.

In front of me is not the scene of an exploding movie theater, but a dirty and dark room.

Hoffa looked at his palm in shock, it was white and thin.

Suddenly, a sharp pain surged up on his forehead. He rolled his eyes, and fell down straight again. In a haze, he seemed a little anxious when he heard the knock on the door outside.

...

I don't know how long it took before Hoffa slowly recovered from the pain.

There was an extra part of his mind that didn't belong to him at all.

He is still called Hoffa now, but he is no longer the Hoffa on Earth. The Hoffa on Earth is an ordinary high school student in China, who is alone. No house, no car, no money, the only hobby is to save money to buy some books, watch movies and so on.

But while watching an IMAX movie, there was a sudden explosion in the theater, and he came to this ghost place.

Now his full name is Hoffa Bach.

He was a child who grew up in an ordinary orphanage.

Some surviving memories told him that the original owner of this body was tricked into going to a cave by the sea during a picnic organized by the orphanage, fell off a cliff, and fell into the icy seawater. After being taken back to the orphanage, he was already dying, which made Hoffa sneak in.

All the boy remembered were the sewage-soaked streets of London. Other than that, he never went anywhere else. I don't know what phones and computers are, and I don't know the Internet. He has only seen classic cars emitting black smoke on the street, and black umbrellas everywhere...

Hoffa thought hard, trying to find some information that would be useful for survival from the broken memory.

Shaking his head, some scattered memory fragments flooded up again.

The father in this life is a native Chinese, a Chinese who escaped the war and came to Europe, but died in a foreign land in the First World War.

The Bach surname after his name is probably related to a foreign mother.

It's just that Hoffa doesn't have any memories of his mother at all.

...

"Orphan...he actually crossed over!"

Hoffa rubbed his head and exhaled a foul breath. He didn't care about time travel, after all, he didn't have anything to worry about in his previous life, it's just that the starting template was a bit too bad.

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 is also a British shorthair cat hanging from the ceiling.

That's right, the cat hanged from the ceiling stiffly, it was miserable.

The cat's name came to Hoffa's mind.

Hodor.

It is the best friend of the former owner of this body.

Inexplicable annoyance appeared in his heart, and Hoffa felt a feeling of extreme disgust. Who is it? To hang an innocent and poor cat here, in front of its owner!

Before he had time to look up the culprit from his memory.

....

There was a light knock on the door and the sound of a key being opened.

Slap!

Suddenly, the closed door popped open with a bang, as if someone had kicked it hard.

Hoffa took a step back in horror.

There were two people standing outside the door, a man and a woman.

He was very familiar with the woman, and Hoffa recalled her identity from his memory the moment he saw her.

It's Mrs. Cole.

The administrator of Wu's Orphanage, a skinny woman who is always anxious.

And beside her stood a very unexpected visitor.

A queer old gentleman, that's all Hoffa thought. Because this person's dress is incompatible with the environment here. He has blue eyes and a long nose that seems to have been broken. His long auburn beard and long hair were neatly tied, and he was dressed in a smart velvet suit, holding a cane and a top hat in his hand.

Hoffa had no doubt that the suit had been made by Savile Row, but it wasn't the old gentleman's attire that surprised him so much.

It was his beard and hair, which he always thought looked strangely familiar.

"Tom, someone came to see you..."

The bony Mrs. Cole said casually, but then she jumped up like a cat whose tail has been stepped on.

"Wait a minute, why is it you? Hoffa! Did he rob your room?"

Hoffa was still wondering who the familiar old man in front of him was, and didn't react to Mrs. Cole's words for a long time.

The old man had already walked into the room, looked around, and sighed in front of the hanged cat. Standing in front of Hoffa again, a pair of dark blue eyes under the long nose looked at Hoffa calmly.

Then he stretched out his long fingers and stroked the bruise on Hoffa's skull.

"poor child…."

There was a feeling of healing from the wound on his forehead, and a flash of lightning flashed through Hoffa's mind, and he looked at the door number on the room in disbelief.

It reads in crooked English:

【Tom Marvolo Riddle】

I rely on! Ha.... The world of Harry Potter?

I am Voldemort! ?

Hoffa's brain was a little confused for a while, but soon, he realized that he was thinking too much.

He was Hoffa himself, but he just stayed in Voldemort's room, and he knew the reason immediately from memory.

This is an orphanage. In his previous life, he was a well-behaved child who was loved by the administrator of the orphanage. His room was on the first floor and could be exposed to sunlight. And Tom's room is in the basement.

Tom Riddle, the young Voldemort coveted his own room, so he tricked him into the cave, and after a failed attempt, he pushed Hoffa off the cliff.

There was no time to feel too much about the tragic experience of his predecessor, the world view, the era, the story... all kinds of information flooded into his brain, and Hoffa's eyes widened.

The old man helped Hoffa heal the wound a little bit, then turned to look at Mrs. Cole, and sighed softly, "Take me to see Tom."

Mrs. Cole nodded, ready to take him away.

When the two walked to the door, Hoffa finally came to his senses. He pointed at the back of the old man and almost blurted out.

"Deng...Deng...Dengley..."

Dumbledore with the auburn beard turned around in surprise, his forehead wrinkled several times, and his blue eyes widened.

The air is a little quieter.

Hoffa quickly covered his mouth, damn it! I'm still not careful enough. Shocked, he couldn't control his mouth.

You know, the other party is the world's top wizard, and there are a hundred ways to expose yourself secretly. Veritaserum, Imperius Curse... Although he felt that Dumbledore would probably disdain those methods, it was always right to be careful.

If it is discovered that he has come here, God knows how this mysterious magical world will deal with him.

But Dumbledore didn't intend to let Hoffa go, he asked softly, "Have we met?"

Hoffa covered his mouth and shook his head like a rattle.

"Then how do you know my name?"

With that said, Dumbledore took a step forward.

Hoffa took a step back.

Dumbledore was dumbfounded. He turned his head politely to Mrs. Cole and said, "Wait a minute, I want to have a chat with this child alone."