290 Chapter 12, Abnormal

"How is he?"

(Hazy, Hoffa heard someone ask such a curious question, he tried to move, but couldn't move)

"Is it related to you?" Someone said impatiently.

"It's weird," said a woman.

"What's so strange?"

"When he was brought in in the morning, we had already diagnosed him with third-degree severe burns. The skin was burned almost all over his body, and he was almost out of breath, but at night he seemed to be"

(Hoffa feels his skin itching, so he struggles)

"Like what?"

"It seems that there is only a mild first-degree burn." The woman replied in extreme confusion: "It's only been less than twelve hours, how could it be...?"

"Well, Metz, you observed very carefully, but—forgot all about it."

The magic spell flashed, and Hoffa opened his eyes. What he saw was the dark ceiling and the dripping bottles in his hand. In the dark room under the moonlight, there were scattered bottles and jars everywhere, which was extremely crowded. An old man held up a wand and pointed at a witch standing beside him. The witch had a dull expression, as if she had just woken up from sleep.

He raised his arms, but felt that his whole body was bound tightly. When he looked carefully, he found that he had been tied up like a mummy, lying on an iron frame hospital bed.

After thinking about it for a while, he understood what happened. A wizard set fire to his own theater. Not only did he set fire to it, but he also blew up his entire theater to the sky. I wanted to put out the fire, but unfortunately it was daytime, and I was sent to the hospital after falling into the flames.

Thinking of the thousands of civilians who came to see the party in his theater, how could he have the mood to continue lying down, he pulled the catheter off his arm without hesitation, and tore off all the bloody bandages on his body.

The sound of the bandage breaking attracted the old man holding the wand. He immediately put away the wand and came to the hospital bed in two or three steps.

Hoffa saw his appearance clearly and was even more disgusted. A wrinkled face with a few thinning hairs and trembling fingers—it was Nicole Flamel.

"It's you again?" he asked impatiently.

"it's me."

"Where is this?"

"The basement of my house."

"Stay aside!"

He pushed Nicole May away, tore off the bandages on his own, picked up a set of clothes on the hanger, put them on his head, and walked out.

"Stinky boy, where are you going?"

Nicole Flamel wanted to hold him back, but he ignored him. He refused to let go, and chased after him with a cane: "You can't go back to that theater now, you must not go back."

"Why?" Hoffa looked at Nicole Flamel suspiciously: "I should have warned you not to follow me, right?"

"I don't follow you, and now you are all burned to ashes." He paused his crutches angrily: "I really think I am invincible, I have never seen a blood race who survived by roasting on the fire during the day, how can you You have to thank me!"

Hoffa stopped in his tracks, his expression softened slightly.

Nicole Flamel sighed, turned around and pushed the dull-looking witch out of the door, and then closed the door with a bang. He took out a radio from the corner, placed it in front of Hoffa, turned the switch a few times, and the broadcast came out from the radio:

"BBC Evening News, it is reported that at six o'clock this morning, a fire broke out in a theater in Soho, London, causing a lot of damage to surrounding buildings. Fortunately, no one was killed, only one man was injured. At present, the injured man has been taken to the hospital. Sent to the hospital, the specific cause of the fire is still under investigation, the preliminary judgment is the careless use of electricity, and I hope everyone will be cautious when using electricity.”

The hostess on the Muggle radio finished reading the manuscript with little ups and downs, and then began to report some news about the weather and current events, but Hoffa felt something was wrong when he heard it.

No one died?

One person was injured.

He clearly watched thousands of people turn into ashes in the sea of ​​flames last night. How could no one die? This kind of terrorist incident similar to 911, after the occurrence, no one cared whether the world went crazy or he went crazy.

At this time, Nicole Flamel switched the radio to the magic channel again: "...at six o'clock in the morning this morning, a large number of Muggles disappeared in Bar Street, Soho District, London. It was preliminarily determined that it was caused by teleportation magic. The perpetrators are unknown. The number of missing people is unknown, and members of the Disaster Reversal Department have been dispatched to restore them. If you see missing Muggles or people with suspicious whereabouts, please contact the Department of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Thank you for your cooperation—the voice of wizards will report for you, next Look at the next set of newsletters, the Quidditch World Cup will be held at the end of this month"

Nicole Flamel turned off the radio and said to Hoffa in a low voice: "Don't cause trouble, keep a low profile, we can't attract any attention from the Ministry of Magic this year, do you understand?"

"Obviously a lot of people died, why did they say none of them died?" Hoffa asked his own doubts.

"Rotting Corpse Potion."

Nicole Flamel sighed, and found a wine bottle from the nearby bottles and cans. The bottle was burnt black and torn apart, but Hoffa could still recognize that it was him Ninety-six Polish rectified vodka that was used to pour wine for the Nightmare God.

Nicole Flamel said in a condensed voice: "I entered your theater immediately after the fire was extinguished, and found this before the Ministry of Magic. After my inspection, someone put rot in the drinks you provided. Corpse potion, after drinking this potion, it will melt the human body into the most basic elements within a few hours, it is one of the most terrifying potions in the world."

"What? Why do you want to take drugs?" Hoffa was at a loss: "The purpose? Who would have trouble with a group of homeless people?"

"I don't know, but I'm more inclined. That person's target was you. He wanted to kill you, but you didn't fall for it."

Poison yourself?

Hoffa thought of the strange man who looked at him coldly in the flames last night, his five fingers clenched into fists, and his bones crackled. But after thinking about it again, he immediately denied this set of arguments.

"Impossible, I've held a free party in Soho every day for the past week, and provided drinks. These drinks are all directly transferred from the winery, and there are thousands of bottles. If you just want to kill me, why use such a large range Besides, after fifty years, I haven’t found any trace of anyone remembering me in this world, who would come and kill me in their spare time?”

"That's deception."

Nicole May put down the wine bottle, "The rotting corpse poison is originally used to destroy corpses. A bottle of rotting corpse poison and a fire are enough to make anyone disappear without a sound."

As he said that, he also frowned, and muttered, "But it's really strange. I killed Muggles with rotting corpse poison, and even set a fire to destroy the corpses. Don't you want to attract others' attention?"

? ? ? ?

Hoffa was at a loss. He believed that there was always a reason for killing people. Love killings, vendetta killings, and profit killings seemed to have nothing to do with the fire in his theater. The man ran away after setting the fire. He didn't mean to explain at all. What exactly did he want?

He was wandering around Nicole Flamel's house.

Could it be that I am dreaming?

He thought of this possibility. Was it the God of Nightmare who saw that he did not agree to its request, and then became angry and put himself together?

So he operated his magic power, and the magic power was running normally, without any jerky. Then he looked around, the scene was normal, it was night, he was full of energy, and there was no trace of a dream.

He is not dreaming, he has dreamed so many times, he can already clearly distinguish the difference between dreams and reality.

Could it be Tom's group? After thinking about it, Hoffa still felt that something was wrong. Even Tom wouldn't do something to a group of homeless people who were having a party for no reason. What kind of place is he lingering on? How could he come here and blow up his own theater out of nowhere.

The incident became complicated and confusing, and he was ready to live and die in this world, but this sudden change made his head ache.

"Don't think about it," Nicole Flamel said helplessly, "You shouldn't be so high-profile. Although the British Ministry of Magic doesn't know how many people died, but I can detect poison, so can they, maybe They've laid a net around your theatre, so you must not go back now."

Nicole May seemed quite calm, he put away the bottle:

"By the way, if you feel ashamed for the death of those people, I can tell you that it doesn't matter. If you don't go back, this world line will collapse sooner or later. It doesn't matter if thousands of people die."

"Don't put a hat on my head, make it look like I killed these people!" Hoffa angrily scolded.

(Nicole Flamel shut up and shrugged his shoulders, and fiddled with the pile of bottles and cans by himself.)

Everything was not going well, Hoffa wanted to rub his hair vigorously, but found that his hair had been burned by the flames, and he had not had time to grow back. At this moment, he also became bald.

"Oh shit."

He kicked a medicine bottle away, and his anger rose slowly. Sylby has gray hair, and he becomes gray hair. Sylby is bald, and he becomes bald. Why is that guy so lingering? ?

The more he thought about it, the more unhappy he became. He looked at Nicole May and said, "Ugly words, even though you saved me, but want me to go back, I advise you to give up on it!"

"I didn't come to ask you to go back." Nicole Flamel put down the work in his hand, sighed, and said, "If you really don't want to go back, who can force you."

After a pause, he said, "Actually, I'm here this time to ask for your help."

"Come again? Old man, do I know you very well?"

"It's not that kind of busyness, this kind of busyness is very simple for you." Nicole Flamel turned his head quite sincerely: "I want to ask you to help revive Chloe."