Chapter 296, Chapter 18

Two people, one old and one young, strolled on the field shrouded in mist, passing between two long rows of tents.

The morning sun shone through the mist and fell on Hoffa's face, making him a little uncomfortable. But even so, he still had to admit that it was extremely lively here.

In the mist, there were tents that could not be seen at a glance. There were bundles of triangular banners floating on the tents, with the flags of the Bulgarian and Irish national teams hanging on them. Under the flags, there were rows of tents that looked like hills. The tent looked nothing special. It's the same as Muggle tents, but some are also very individual. They are obviously tents, but there are chimneys, bell ropes or weathervanes on them, which is very interesting.

The air is filled with the aroma of honeysuckle and gorse. On the side of the road, you can see strong men sitting on the ground, or falling asleep on printed blankets. Their beards are covered with alcohol, and they are snoring while sleeping. Had a late party last night.

The heath was full of clumps of yellow gorse, glistening in the first sun. Accustomed to the cloudy soil fifty years ago, suddenly coming to this leisurely place will really make him feel refreshed, as if he has been in a lifetime.

Nicole Flamel, "See, it's all thanks to you."

Hoffa pretended not to hear.

When the two reached the middle of the first field, Nicole Flamel stopped. There stood a huge tent, which was bigger and more gorgeous than all the tents next to it. It used a lot of striped silk so extravagantly that it looked like a small palace, with several live peacocks tied to the entrance and a small fountain.

"This is our residence, do you like it?" Nicole Flamel smiled.

"It's pompous enough."

Hoffa raised an eyebrow.

If he saw this kind of thing five years ago, he might have jumped up in surprise. But now, he began to look critically at the tent in front of him. The fountain was too small, the flowers were too mixed, and the peacocks in front of the door seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Don't mind, after all, Ali Bashir is a famous supplier of flying carpets in Arabia." Nicole LeMay said, "It's still necessary to have a full set of acting."

"I didn't say I don't like it, I like it very much."

Hoffa opened the tent first, "Go in."

The tent was cast with the No Trace Stretching Charm, and the space inside was larger than the outside, with a full three-storey height. The floor was covered with very complicated carpets, and the short-legged red cabinets around were filled with strange metal decorations of the sun and the moon, and some The tall teapot, the towering pagoda-like sweets on the coffee table, and the fragrance of milk filled the air.

Hoffa looked at the Arabian-style tent curiously, and picked up a few decorations from time to time to look at it.

Nicole Flamel stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror in the tent, turned his head tremblingly and said to Hoffa, "Can you help me, please."

Hoffa put down the lamp pot in the shape of Aladdin's magic lamp in his hand, stood behind Nicole Flamel, and helped him take off his gray cloth coat, revealing his crumpled and crooked body.

Afterwards, Nicole Flamel took out a bottle of gray mud-like compound potion from his pocket, raised his hand and frowned and swallowed it.

gurgling.

The skinny old man covered with age spots in the mirror swelled up like air. I saw his thin body gradually tall and straight, and his sparse hair gradually became thicker and darker. Finally, he turned into a Middle Eastern man with black hair and a hooked nose. He looked about forty years old.

"Hoo hoo."

After the change was over, Nicole Flamel took a few breaths and shook his head, "It can't be done, I'm getting older, and I'm resistant to the compound decoction. I guess it can only last for less than an hour."

Hoffa's eyes drifted to the back of Nicolas May's hand. Although his body has become younger, the age spots have not completely disappeared.

Nicole Flamel walked to the wardrobe in the tent, picked it up from it, and sighed as he picked it up: "I'm old, when Chloe is alive, I should retire completely."

"Do you really love her that much?" Hoffa asked while sitting on the carpet, "Your generations are so different."

"Because of her blood ability, she was feared by her parents since she was a child. I brought her up. When you have a grandson, you will understand me. If you want me to say, she and I are more like friends."

"And you sent her to France?"

"There was no war at that time, and I hoped that God could heal her disease, but it was counterproductive. At least in her case, God did not show His mercy."

"Is there really a God?"

Hoffa shrugged with a sneer, and pointed to the top of the tent: "If I ask you, the Allah these people believe in doesn't exist."

"It doesn't have to be God. If you use the words of alchemy, it should be called a higher level of existence."

"god?"

"More than that, higher."

Nicole Flamel put on his own clothes and turned into a businessman wrapped in a tall Arab turban and a Baghdad robe, with a peacock feather on the turban.

"Let's go, I'll take you to find Barty Crouch."

"It's not impossible for me to go alone." Hoffa muttered.

"Hmph, you're so young, no matter how luxuriously you dress, Crouch won't remember your name, let alone let you into his tent." Nicole Flamel shook his head, "He's a Powerful guy."

After the two went out again, the sun had already risen to mid-air.

The hostility contained in the strong sunlight made Hoffa dazed for a while, as if everything in front of him was covered with a crystal clear film, he had to squint his eyes.

Originally, Hoffa wanted to see if he could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the legendary trio, at the Quidditch World Cup.

But under this kind of sun, he didn't want to look at anything, all he could think about was going back to the tent, sleeping until it was dark and then getting up again. But this kind of thought is just a thought, he still has to find Barty Crouch Jr., time does not allow him to waste it.

He took off a branch, transformed it into a pair of sunglasses, put it on his nose, and barely blocked the sunlight, which made him feel better.

Nicole May slowed down and lowered his voice beside him: "It's okay, when I go back this time, I will help you make some potions to suppress the blood power in your body."

"Let's talk about it when we get back."

Hoffa felt as if someone was watching him behind him, so he looked back, but he didn't see any familiar figure. There are only a few foreign wizards who carry kettles and get up early in the morning to fetch water.

time flies.

The number of people in the camp gradually increased, and many young boys and girls shuttled among the crowd, playing and fighting. Some are domestic and some are foreign, and they speak a language that they can understand or can't understand.

Hoffa envied them a little.

So youthful and beautiful, in groups. And his companion is a bad old man.

After passing through a tent with a picture of Wilkdo Krum, he and Nicole Flamel came to another field. There were a lot fewer tents in this area, and the distance between them was also large.

One of the tents was looming in the jungle. It was different from the others. Although it kept the shape of a tent, it was not made of cloth, but made of wood. It's like a small house, covered with some wood chips, with doors and windows, and a small garden around it.

In the little garden was a yellow path paved with clay and stones, surrounded by a low wall about three feet high, topped with a wooden fence. There is a brown wooden board and three gold-plated spheres at the corner of the wooden fence. The brown wooden board is engraved with the words [Barty Crouch——Do Not Disturb the Idle People] in large white characters.

Nicole Flamel stood under the three gilded balls and knocked on the door.

For a while, no one opened the door.

The two stood at the door and looked at each other. Hoffa stepped back and looked into the window. The window was covered with a layer of white gauze, like a white shade on the eyes, making it difficult to see what was inside.

But he could feel that someone was standing behind the door, bending over to look at him vigilantly through the crack of the door, with a wand in his hand, this guy had been standing behind the door for a long time.

Nicole Flamel, disguised as Ali Bashir, knocked on the door again and asked politely, "Is Mr. Crouch at home? Minister Fudge recommended me to come here."

The pair of eyes behind the crack of the door narrowed, and the people in the room retreated slowly. When they had retreated to about ten meters, he said solemnly, "Here we are."

After finishing speaking, he made neat footsteps, came to the door, and turned the lock with a click.

The middle-aged man behind the door had short, neatly combed black hair, a straight back, stiff movements, and a spotless crisp suit and tie. The toothbrush-like narrow mustache immediately reminded Hoffa of Adolf Hitler.

"Ah, hello hello."

Nicole Flamel stretched out his hand tremblingly, "You must be Mr. Barty Crouch, I have admired you for a long time."

The meticulous man hesitated for a moment, then held Nicole LeMay's fingertips reservedly: "Are you Ali Bashir? The president of Arabian Flying Carpet Import and Export Company?"

"Exactly next."

Nicole Flamel twisted his fingers, turned out a golden business card and handed it over, "This, this is my nephew and secretary Horva Bashir."

Barty Crouch looked at the business card, looked up at Hoffa again, and frowned, but in the end he turned sideways with a slight displeasure: "" (please enter)

""(Thanks)

Without changing his expression, Nicolas entered the room with a smile on his face.

Hoffa exclaimed inwardly that it was dangerous, old Barty Crouch could even speak Arabic, if he hadn't brought Nicole Flamel over here, he was afraid that he would be exposed before he even entered the door.

After entering the door, his eyes quickly turned around the room, and in the blink of an eye, he used his powerful mental force field to scan the entire room.

It's an old-fashioned three-bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. There is a basement under the kitchen floor, and the entrance to the basement is sealed with magic.

Tom Riddle thought that his subordinate Barty Crouch Jr. was imprisoned in Azkaban, but what he didn't know was that as early as a year ago, Barty Crouch Sr. was seriously ill and dying His wife begged Xiao Xiao to use his wife to replace his son from Azkaban, and Barty Jr. has been locked up at home ever since.

It was not released until the day of the Quidditch World Cup, and he also played an important role in the Goblet of Fire, hiding in Hogwarts, disguised as the teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts—Mad-Eye Moody.

And he was Hoffa's target.

"Please sit down."

Old Barty Crouch pointed to the sofa, his eyes kept turning back and forth on Hoffa's silver earrings and sunglasses, frowning from time to time.

Nicole Flamel sat on the chair naturally, crossing his fingers on his lower abdomen, and Hoffa stood behind him.

"Coffee or tea?" Barty Crouch went to the kitchen.

"A glass of water would be enough. Excuse me, Mr. Crouch. With all due respect, your accommodation is very difficult to find."

"Ah, I prefer to be quiet in private, and I don't like to be disturbed by others." Old Barty Crouch said indifferently.

"I've been very busy recently, the World Cup." Nicole LeMay winked at Hoffa and approached him.

"Fortunately, there are a lot of things in the ministry, but they are all within the scope of my duties."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes."

Old Batty came out of the kitchen with two glasses of water, handed the water glasses to Nicole Flamel, and really ignored Hoffa who was standing behind Flamel.

"Why don't you find a servant to take care of you?" Nicole Flamel asked "casually" when he took the water glass: "For example, house elves or something? For someone in a high position like you, it must be very tiring to do everything by yourself Bar."

Barty Crouch's eyes became sharper, "This has nothing to do with you, I heard that you have a trade project to discuss."

He was sitting upright, as if he was a diplomat sitting in the United Nations, but at this moment, Nicole Flamel, who was disguised as Ali Bashir, rolled his eyes and fell silent.

Hoffa hurriedly bent over to take a look, secretly exclaiming that something was wrong, and saw Nicole Flamel rolled his eyes, a trace of saliva overflowed from the corner of his mouth, the old man was in a state of dementia again.

He quickly took off his sunglasses, his golden eyes turned black, and explained: "I'm sorry, Director Crouch, my uncle drank too much last night, and he's not in a good mood today."

Looking at the drooling man in front of him, Barty Crouch showed an undisguised expression of disgust, but when he saw Hoffa's appearance clearly, he was slightly taken aback, frowned and asked, "Are you Hogwarts?" Did you graduate?"

"no."

Hoffa's heart skipped a beat: "What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking too much," Batty muttered, "You look a bit like the legend of our academy."

"Is it?"

Hoffa grinned, and the muscles on his face twitched.

He noticed that the decorations in Barty Crawley's house were mostly blue, and there were eagle patterns in some places.

But Batty didn't seem to think much about it. He sat opposite Hoffa with a rigid expression: "Since your uncle is not in good condition, then you can talk about it. If you are not ready, help him away."

But Hoffa looked straight, and said solemnly: "I am here this time to talk to you about the embargo on flying carpets. You also know that in recent years, the exchanges between wizards have become more and more frequent. I Uncle hopes that this regulation can be relaxed, after all, you have banned flying carpets since 1954."

"No way." Barty Crouch coughed lightly, and said earnestly, "A bill is a bill. We really don't plan to introduce magic flying carpets these years."

"Is this a violation of the International Wizarding Free Trade Act? After all, other countries are doing business with us seriously. You must know that British broomsticks can also be circulated in the international market normally."

Hoffa was wrangling in a serious manner, and his eyes moved to the back of the kitchen without leaving a trace. He could feel that behind the kitchen bar, there were a pair of big terrified eyes and a pair of pricked ears.

Barty Crouch said meticulously: "It's not like foreign countries have imposed tariffs on our broomsticks. Every country is different."

Boom!

Suddenly, the ground made a muffled sound and shook slightly. Barty Crouch was interrupted.

Hoffa pretended to be surprised and looked around, "What's wrong, something is ringing."

A trace of helplessness and irritability flashed in Old Barty Crouch's eyes, he stood up, "Well, it's useless for you to find me, the magic flying carpet is embargoed because it is woven and enchanted, but it's easy If Muggles mistakenly use it as a rug, it violates the Wizarding Secrecy Act, so it cannot be circulated in this country. I have my own national conditions in the UK. Mr. Bashir, my suggestion is to go to Arthur M. Wetherby, if he can lift the secrecy regulations on the magic flying carpet, then we will talk about it in detail."

He looked like he was going to see off the guests. Hoffa pretended to be displeased, but he still helped Nicole Flamel to stand up.

"Thank you for your suggestion."

"You're welcome, I wish you a good game."

"The same to you."

The two shook hands, and then Hoffa helped Nicole Flamel out of the room.

Coming under the shade of an inconspicuous tree, Hoffa grabbed Nicole Flamel's shoulder and shook vigorously, "What's the matter, you're getting confused after talking well!?"

Nicole Flamel, who was shaken vigorously, woke up with a jolt. After looking around a few times, he patted his chest: "Ah, I fell asleep just now."

"You can fall asleep here, and I'm worried about whether you are up to the task of monitoring Voldemort."

"Isn't it because I didn't sleep well last night? I got up at three o'clock in the morning."

Nicole May muttered: "Don't talk about me first, that Death Eater imprisoned in Azkaban Prison, Barty Crouch Jr., is really in that tent."

Hoffa nodded slowly: "Yes, I'm sure."

Nicole Flamel took a deep breath, "It's actually here, this little guy is really brave enough to fish out his son like this."

After a pause, he asked again: "Then what are you going to do, go to him now?"

Hoffa squinted his eyes, looked at the sun that had climbed to the very center of the sky, and shook his head:

"No, this is not the place to do it, and now is not the time. In the evening, everyone from the Ministry of Magic will go to watch the game, so it's not too late for us to do it."