282 Chapter 4, Dinner

Seeing the gray wand on the fireplace, the slightly rough wand with the knotted branches, Hoffa nearly shed tears.

His wand, which he had been away from for more than four years, was taken away by the half-human King Sylby, and now it was lying peacefully in front of him.

"Dude"

The Coke bottle fell to the ground, he reached out tremblingly, and grabbed the wand on the fireplace.

However, something puzzling happened.

When he touched the wand, he no longer had the feeling of blood connection he used to have when using his own wand. It cannot be deformed, nor can it be used to cast spells. It was as if what he was holding in his hand at the moment was just an ordinary branch.

After waving a few times out of thin air, the joy of reunion was replaced by confusion.

He turned the wand over and over several times, and there was no doubt that this was his wand, the semi-finished wand without a core that the old man sold him when you were at Ollivander's house. At the end of it, there is a deep notch, which is a square font, 【Seal】

It's just that, about fifty years too long, the word has faded from the red paint it used to be, and turned into an ordinary scratch.

"This is my wand."

Hoffa yelled back.

"Yes."

Old Hoffa, who was cooking in the kitchen, answered.

"Why can't it be used?"

Hoffa called again.

There was no answer, only the quiet sound of the fire being turned off in the kitchen.

Hoffa put down his wand and went to the kitchen: "You defeated him, otherwise how would you get your wand back?"

"Don't ask, you'll know."

Old Hoffa said calmly, and put a handful of chopped green onions into the gurgling iron pot, then put the iron pot on the dining table, and said gently, "You're hungry, let's have some food first."

Watching him slowly bring three dishes and one soup to the table, and took off his apron, the young Hoffa gritted his teeth and sat down.

The dishes are very simple, one serving of sweet and sour pork ribs, one serving of mutton and radish soup, a bowl of stir-fried vegetable salad, and several kinds of pickles.

"Come on, try it." Old Hoffa pointed to the sweet and sour pork ribs on the left.

Young Hoffa was still a little dazed, but he didn't refuse. He picked up the chopsticks, picked up a piece of rib, brought it to his mouth, and took a light bite.

The sweet and sour sugar coating and the strong aroma of the gravy permeated at the same time, making him chew subconsciously, and finished the ribs in two or three bites. At this moment, he even forgot about the threat of death.

"Try the soup." Old Hoffa thoughtfully served him a bowl of mutton soup. A few green scallions are sprinkled on the dense soup, which makes people salivate when they smell it.

The young Hoffa's eyes were filled with anticipation. He took the bowl, carefully picked up a piece of mutton, and put it in his mouth.

It was stewed quite badly, and it felt like it was about to melt as soon as it entered the mouth. The real meaty aroma exploded, and the wonderful juice flowed across, filling the mouth. Coupled with the fragrance of radish and the deliciousness of onion, it is impossible to describe in words.

He shivered, this is real Chinese food, and it is the first time he has eaten such authentic oriental food after he has been in this world for so long. I have to say that the old man is very particular about his cooking skills.

Under the illumination of the delicious food, he temporarily forgot about the threat of time flare spreading, and quietly enjoyed this wonderful first meal after fifty years.

When he was eating, old Hoffa was sitting beside him, silently helping him to add soup and rice, and occasionally eating a few mouthfuls himself, tacitly like a pair of father and son who have been apart for many years.

Outside, the sunset in 1994 was quiet, soft and warm. There were no air defense sirens, no tanks rumbling past, and no planes crossing the sky. Only the pigeons chatted on the eaves, and a few neighbors talked downstairs with their dogs. Most of the chats were related to the weather and their children's studies.

Indoors, the two finished their meal in a tacit understanding of silence. Old Hoffa got up to pack the dishes and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

After the young Hoffa had filled his stomach, worries came to his mind again. This was the most satisfying meal he had eaten in the past few years. If it wasn't for the sword of Damocles hanging high, maybe he would give a thumbs up and praise his cooking skills in the future.

But now, he really has too many doubts, expecting his old self to explain to him.

Finally, after washing the dishes, Old Hoffa returned to the dining table.

Young Hoffa straightened up immediately: "Can we talk?"

As if in agreement, the old man raised his hand, and said with a smile: "Don't talk, I'll ask you a few words first."

"What do you want to ask?"

"Stay here." The gray-haired old man in front of him smiled and said, "I'll be your father."

"ah!?"

Hoffa was taken aback by the old thing's sudden words.

"It's been more than sixty years, and I've experienced everything. I don't have a single heir, and no one calls me Dad. This is a great regret in my life. Would you like to call me?"

"Damn, can you talk about serious things?" Hoffa sighed, looking at his smiling old face, feeling helpless in his heart. It's this time, and he still wants to joke.

"Don't mind." Old Hoffa spread his hands a little aggrieved: "Look, we have the same blood flowing in our bodies, and we have the same surname. The only difference is that I am fifty years older than you. Why don't you call me Dad?" gone?"

"are you crazy!"

Hoffa suppressed his displeasure and cursed in the mildest words he could find.

However, the old Hoffa in front of him took out a pure gold key from his pocket, and said with a smile: "I have a deposit worth more than three million Galleons in Gringotts, waiting for someone to inherit it."

Hoffa immediately squeezed out a smiling face: "Dad."

"Hahaha!"

The old man laughed.

The young Hoffa couldn't help but also laughed. After just a second of laughing, his face turned gray and he sighed: "Enough of the joke."

He tore off the clothes on his chest, only to see that his chest was almost invisible from the collarbone down. Only a strangely shaped heart could be seen beating in the transparent chest cavity. He rubbed his palms, and countless crystal debris floated down from his palms.

"It's such a time, just tell me, how can I survive?"

Old Hoffa put away the golden key, and straightened his hair indifferently: "Actually, I have studied the power of time, and there is only one case where time flares appear, unprotected time travel."

"Unprotected time travel, what do you mean?"

"Time is like a running train. Everyone has a designated seat on this train. Someone is at the front, someone is in the middle, and someone is at the back. If you are strong enough, you can be in the car." But you can't be at the front of the car and at the back at the same time.

Now there are two Hoffa Bach in this time and space, but we are not Chloe, and we don't have her magical blood of law, so it is impossible for us to have two selves at the same time. So time flares will appear, which is a manifestation of extreme uncertainty. There are too many chaotic futures in you, and the laws of this world do not allow so much uncertainty. "

Hoffa frowned after thinking for a moment: "Why can Harry, but I can't?"

"Harry and Hermione have the Ministry of Magic's Time-Turner, which is also a protective machine, like an oxygen cylinder in the deep sea."

"You have a time-turner?"

"No, that thing is too weak to resist fifty years of law power."

"Then what can I do?"

"It's very simple."

Old Hoffa took out a Citibank bank card from his trouser pocket and put it in the palm of young Hoffa: "The password is 19940724, which is today's date."

"Why did you give me money?"

Hoffa looked at him pale and dull: "I'm going to die."

The elderly Hoffa gently held his hand, leaned his head closer, and said in a very low voice next to his ear: "You must remember my words, people don't die when they can die, but die when they deserve to die."

After speaking, he slowly stepped back and sat on the chair.

Young Hoffa stared blankly at each other.

The setting sun shone through the window on the old man's face, adding a bit of mystery to his old face.

The old man in front of him tidied up his white T-shirt calmly and sat down on a chair. After that, he pulled out a silver revolver from his jeans pocket.

Smiling, even looking at his younger self with some mischief, he shoved the silver revolver into his mouth.

"Hello"

"Hello!!"

An extremely bad premonition came to his mind, Hoffa's eyes suddenly widened, he jumped off the chair, and reached out to grab the gun.

Accompanied by a loud and clear gunshot.

boom! !

Hoffa, who stretched out his hand, petrified on the spot.

Outside the house, as the sun was setting, several neighbors finished chatting. They smiled and waved to each other, and walked leisurely with the dogs towards the house. The pigeons in the yard are still chirping, waiting for the owner to feed them.

Inside, the clock on the wall ticked.

A few drops of flying blood slowly fell from the gray-haired boy's face, his eyes were wide open, and his face was as pale as a sculpture.

One thousand six hundred kilometers away, Austria, Nurmengard.

Crows are entrenched on the top of the tower, and a red moon engulfed by dark clouds hangs in the sky. In the room at the top of the tower that had been covered in dust for a long time, a skinny figure suddenly woke up.