268 Chapter 68, Old Friend

"Aren't you leaving?" Hoffado glanced at her.

"Not urgent."

Delphine said lazily, she turned her fingers, and a letter appeared between her fingers, "Noble asked me to give you this letter."

She tossed the letter at Hoffa, who pinched it between his fingers with precision.

"Oh, by the way, and, as a reward, we asked him to deliver all kinds of alchemy equipment for the Ministry of Magic. After that, if you want to do arms business in the future, you don't have to sneak around. Of course, that's only limited to the territory of the Allied Powers."

"That would be wonderful."

Hoffa said indifferently, he took the letter and did not open it in a hurry, but asked: "When I was in France, I just went to the toilet, and you disappeared, and then the German army Just come to the door and tell me, is that a coincidence?"

"Coincidence, there is no coincidence, everything is an arrangement of fate." Delphine put her hands on her waist, looking very dignified.

"Yes, then why don't you bring her back yourself, I think you are much faster than me." Hoffa asked with narrowed eyes.

"She is a woman. To be honest, I don't want to talk to a person of the same gender at all. Would you want to stay alone with a man for half a year?"

She smiled, stretched out her slender fingers to pick up Hoffa's chin: "Of course, if possible, of course I also want to have a thrilling adventure with a handsome guy like you."

Snapped!

Hoffa opened her palm and looked at her unkindly.

But Delphine was not angry, she blew a kiss, then smiled and touched the soles of her feet, turned her head gracefully, and disappeared step by step around the corner of the street.

Seeing the bald woman disappear, for some reason, he always felt that this guy was not a cheap lamp. However, he was determined to leave, so he didn't think much about it, but turned his attention to the letter in his hand.

When the letter was opened, there was a pile of messy handwriting on the letter.

[The Ministry of Magic gave me the authority to smuggle arms. I think we sent it. Now the most out-of-stock place in the world is in the Far East. I will go to the Soviet Union first. After you deliver the girl, you can come to Moscow to find me. We Make it big! ——Noble Hagrid]

"It's a big job."

After reading the letter, Hoffa couldn't help grinning. He breathed a sigh of relief. Noble is in the Soviet Union. Although this place is far and cold, it is still a good place to go. Fortunately, he has not been reduced to the level of a headless fly.

Putting away the letter, he rushed to the dock in London non-stop. For some reason, he doesn't want to stay in England for a minute now, like a criminal who is anxious to escape the crime scene.

Almost all passers-by on the road were wearing winter robes, but Hoffa was still wearing summer shirts. In the future, the journey would only take less than a day. He walked for nearly half a year, going around in the middle, and it took far longer than he expected. He didn't even have time to change clothes.

When it was approaching midnight, he arrived at the pier, and the ticket office was already closed, but he still asked the person on the night shift about the time of the ferry from London, England to the port of Murmansk, the Soviet Union. The freighter would pass by the next morning, and he only had to wait overnight.

Hoffa looked at the time and decided to wait until daytime and set off immediately to start the journey again. He found a broken chair in the piazza, and tried to pass the time with meditation.

This kind of square is full of homeless people wrapped in newspapers, and there are piles of wine bottles under almost every chair.

He had just entered meditation, and the contents of the nightmare not long ago came to his mind again, and these contents became very clear when he was alone. He suddenly felt extremely irritable and unable to meditate at all. It happened that there was an adult magazine thrown down by some homeless man on the chair in front of him.

He unceremoniously picked up the magazine and flipped through it. The content of the magazine was similar to those Playboy magazines of later generations. They were all exposed photos of some third-rate actresses, but it was changed from color to black and white.

The only color on the magazine was a yellowish-brown stain, spray-on, on nearly every page of God knows what had happened to the poor magazine.

"Fuck the ice cream."

Hoffa muttered aimlessly flipping through the magazine, as if this was the only way he could forget the contents of that nightmare.

He is flipping.

Sudden.

A white finger pulled the cover of the magazine, and slowly pulled the magazine up, and at the same time a slightly hoarse voice sounded: "Hi, Hoffa, long time no see."

Hoffa was leaning back in a chair and reading a magazine, and the guy who came over to say hello was standing behind the chair, looking down at him.

So in Hoffa's perspective, the guy's face was completely upside down, but even so, he recognized her at a glance.

The chestnut shoulder-length short hair, the round rimless glasses, and the pointed chin, the moment he recognized it, he jumped up from the chair as if electrocuted, and took a few steps back in a daze.

"Miranda."

He looked at the person in surprise and joy. He touched his body with his palms, first straightened his collar to see if it was messy, then stroked his hair, trying to suppress the ridges blown by the night wind, so as not to look too haggard.

"You, why are you here!?"

He stammered in surprise. He never expected to meet her in this kind of place, one of his best friends and one of his most dangerous opponents.

Compared with a year ago, her appearance has changed a lot. First of all, she has become a lot taller, about 1.65 meters, not the appearance of a little radish at all.

She was wearing a cool black studded motorcycle jacket, a pair of black shorts, and a pair of high-top Martin boots under her long white legs. She also had a very ethereal world-weary makeup on her face, and obsidian earrings on her ears. The eyebrows are very sharp. However, Hoffa, who has seen the world outside, can still tell at a glance that the makeup is actually not good, the technique is very jerky, and the lip color is too dark.

"Isn't it me who should be asking?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes and examined, "This is England. Is there a problem with my presence in London?"

"Isn't this the point of going to school?"

"Yeah, isn't it time for school?"

Miranda asked back. She picked up the magazine in her hand, glanced at it, then shook it in front of Hoffa's eyes, grinning sneerly, "You have changed a lot, have you matured?"

"Damn!"

Hoffa blushed so much that he was about to bleed. He thought it was Murphy's law. He had lived for four or five years and didn't have time to have some yellow. He just wanted to cultivate his sentiments when he was caught by his best friend. No luck anymore.

He rested his forehead with one hand, waved his hand with a wry smile, and changed the subject: "Come on, how did you know my location?"

"I'm passing by,"

Miranda casually threw the torn magazine aside, folded her arms and said, "I went to a bar with my friends for a drink, and then I saw you on the way."

"Yes, you have learned how to make up."

With a smile on his face, Hoffa couldn't help but start complaining about her appearance.

Although he hadn't seen him for more than a year, the sense of familiarity was still lingering forever. He still remembered the literary and artistic girlish look of this guy when he was reading on the train in the first grade.

Miranda raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, "Yeah, does it look good?" She pouted in disgust as she spoke, "What about you, you've been digging mines in Africa and you can't get along, so come back to collect the bottles?"

Hoffa couldn't help but burst out laughing at the unusually poisonous tongue, and the embarrassment was swept away. He bent over and sat back on the chair laughing, his legs arched in laughter. Indeed, his dusty appearance is indeed not decent, and the clothes on his body are still dirty and crotch.

A few homeless men next door wrapped in newspapers were awakened by his laughter and began to curse.

"I have no choice but to collect the tatters, so that I can barely maintain my life." Hoffa slumped on the chair and said in a posture that the mud could not support the wall.

Miranda burst out laughing, and with her world-weary makeup, she actually felt like the iceberg was melting. After laughing, she immediately stiffened her face: "Where are you going?"

She put her hands in her pockets and asked.

"Soviet Union."

Hoffa said: "My friend has an alchemy workshop over there, which allows me to resell arms, eat delicious food, and reach the pinnacle of life."

Miranda smiled, but then sighed, took out two pieces of paper from the pocket of her black jacket, and handed them to Hoffa.

Hoffa took it over and saw that it was a newspaper and a wanted warrant.

The newspaper is a new Prophet's Daily, and it is a big headline that can be seen by the eyes, and the English is bold and bold [Shocked! Hoffa Bach, a disciple of the Dark Witch Grindelwald, appeared in England and slaughtered hundreds of vampires! ! 】

There is also a photo of him and Tom Riddle walking side by side in the cloud base under that title. I don't know when those people took it secretly.

The accompanying text under the photo reported the vampire incident in Bournemouth in detail, without mentioning Mance, only saying that he killed a large number of wizards and hordes of vampires in Germany.

Then he took out the arrest warrant below and took a look. In the photo, he had a gloomy expression, looking sideways at the back, and he looked like a villain. Before he could read the string of dense German words introducing himself, Hoffa was taken aback by the long string of zeros at the bottom.

"I thought you could do well outside, but I didn't expect it to be the same as before, which makes people worry." Miranda sighed: "Germany has issued a death warrant for you now, and your head is off the hook." Metal Gallon can buy most of Norway, I can guarantee that as long as you leave this dock now, what awaits you is endless assassinations."

Hoffa calmly read all the text of the newspaper and the wanted notice, and handed them back.

He failed to capture Mance alive, and killed a fragment of Tom Riddle's soul. Naturally, he had no face to report back to Slughorn. The news was finally leaked and it was also being cleaned up. Everything Mance did, fell on him, whether it was good or bad, just as he had foreseen.

Miranda rubbed the newspaper and the wanted notice, and the paper turned to ashes in the air. Then she sat beside Hoffa, worried: "You can't go out, stay in England, it's safe here."

"No."

Hoffa flatly but resolutely rejected Miranda: "I have already bought the ticket for the six o'clock boat tomorrow morning."

"Are you crazy?"

Miranda stared, her expression a little excited: "The dark forces of the Imperial Wizarding Association are all over the world. Even if they want to assassinate the President of the United States, no one can stop them."

"In that case, what's the use of me staying in the UK or not? It's already happened." Hoffa said indifferently, as if he was stating something that had nothing to do with him.

"I can"

Her excited voice stammered, "Bao, protect you."

Hoffa smiled, and flicked her head lightly with his fingers, "Nice to meet you, Miranda, but let's go back, it's getting late."

The girl suddenly stood up, her expression became a little angry, and combined with the world-weary makeup, she looked gloomy and terrifying: "I haven't seen each other for a year and a half, and I haven't written a letter. If we meet, you will send me away?" Miranda sneered from between her teeth. Squeezed out a few words, "I think I found the wrong person."

Hoffa didn't expect her to react so suddenly, and was a little stunned. A few tramps who were woken up next to him still shouted and laughed, "Hey, little sister, he doesn't want your uncle and wants you!"

"Come to Dad, Dad will love you very much!"

"Isn't it cool to have pants so short at night?"

"Hahahahaha"

(saliva)

The lines on Miranda's face were as sharp as a knife, she showed a row of snow-white teeth, looked sideways at the homeless men who were breathing out their fragrance, and stretched her fingers towards her glasses.

Hoffa's heart skipped a beat, thinking of her terrifying dark side, so he pressed his palm forward, pushing Miranda's glasses back. Then, he took her wrist and stepped on the ground.

The chair and the glass bottle under the chair turned into ashes. Those homeless people who spoke foul language were blown to pieces by the sudden explosion of the glass bottle. They tore apart the newspapers and got up and patted their clothes. Some people even picked up the wine bottle to find fault, but when they put on their postures, there was nowhere to see half of them.