301 Chapter 23, the Demon King of Salvation

Hoffa opened his eyes again, his face was extremely cold, he stood up: "Where is Little Barty?"

"I don't know." Nicole May was at a loss, "What's going on, did he launch the Dark Mark? Who was fighting with you just now?"

"Gellert Grindelwald." He walked back with a cold face.

"Sure enough. Sure enough, it's him."

Nicole Flamel was not surprised, but showed a clear face. He held his forehead and gritted his teeth and said, "I don't think there are other people who would do this."

Hoffa didn't answer. Now is not a good time to chat.

He and Nicolas May made their way back to the camp from the stadium canopy.

At this moment, the carnival camp was in chaos, the road was blackened by the trampling of countless pedestrians, and thick smoke billowed, covering the sky.

The tents along the way were burning, and the air was filled with the smell of burning wood and cloth. The Ministry of Magic's rescue had not yet arrived. A group of wizards huddled tightly and ran towards the woods, as if they were escaping from some terrible existence.

"Mudblood"

"You deserve this day!"

"Hahahahaha"

With unbridled laughter.

"Blazing flames!" With a bang like an explosion, a flying orange fireball flew in all directions. Tents on the side of the road were on fire.

A few guys in hoods came from a distance, as if they were enjoying the chaos, they kept setting the roadside tents on fire with their wands.

"My child is inside, you demons—!" Several wizards in pajamas rushed out and roared angrily. However, he was caught off guard and was hanged upside down with a curse.

"Howl."

"Struggle"

I saw those hooded people pointing their wands upwards, pushing forward, and slowly moving across the field. Above their heads, several figures in pajamas were floating in the air, two of which were very small. They were distorted into various weird shapes, some curled up with their knees bent, some with their heads turned back, some with their chins facing the sky, and some shouted with their mouths open, but they couldn't make a sound.

Like a marionette, controlled by invisible strings from a masked wizard's wand.

Hoffa stopped in front of the guys wearing cloaks and masks expressionlessly.

A few laughing, the guy manipulating the puppet stopped and turned to look at the boy and the old man who came over - the two parties looked at each other for a moment.

"Smelly bald head, what are you looking at!?"

"Hey, what are you wearing?"

Those people seemed to be drunk and drunk, and they came to Hoffa staggeringly.

One of the tall, strutting men even arrogantly picked up the scraps of his battle-torn clothing with his wand.

"Meet Veela?"

"Or was it the old man next to him who tore it up?"

"Hahahaha!! So interesting. Hiccup."

The laughter echoed in the sky, but the tall man's body flew up, spinning like a cannonball, moving away, smashing through the burning tent, scraping the low bushes, and flying all the way to the distance, until the laughter Becomes a cry of terror and disappears into the sky.

Hoffa put down his palm, and his golden eyes glanced at the remaining people.

"roll."

Several people wearing masks collapsed to the ground in fright. They looked at each other and ran away.

The marionettes in twos and threes fell from the sky, and they fled in all directions in a panic, except for one boy. She looked at the sky, at the last girl who was still hanging upside down, and stretched out her arms anxiously.

"younger sister."

There is also the last little girl hanging upside down in the sky, her nightgown covering her head, spinning slowly.

Hoffa stood in the floating figure, facing the corner of the empty tent, his face livid: "Put her down."

No one answered.

"Can't you hear me, Crouch?"

The invisibility cloak was jerked off, and a young man with withered yellow hair appeared. His face was pale, his brow was sweaty, but he smiled proudly: "Did you see, did you see, Mr. Bach, I succeeded! I succeeded!" Launched the Dark Mark!!

"You did very well."

Hoffa nodded calmly, and hooked his fingers at the young man.

"come here."

The young man with withered hair felt something, he rubbed his hands, hid the wand behind himself, smiled, and didn't go forward.

"Don't you want to see the master?" Hoffa tilted his head and waved, "Come here, I'll take you to see him right away."

"hey hey"

Little Barty breathed a sigh of relief, and ran to Hoffa's side in a hurry.

Snapped! !

A slap in the air.

Directly pumped him upside down and flew out.

Little Barty fell to the ground, covering his bleeding mouth, and half of his face swelled up at a speed visible to the naked eye.

He yelled in disbelief: "You...why hit me?"

Hoffa looked down at him, and picked out the tooth stuck in the palm of his right hand with his left hand.

"You, why hit me!!"

He raised his wand, pointed at Hoffa, and asked incomprehension, "Just for a few mudbloods?"

Snapped!

The wand was kicked away, the little girl floating in the sky fell to the ground, and the boy rushed to hug his sister.

Hoffa moved away the crying brothers and sisters in front of him, and strode forward. Then, under the extremely frightened eyes of little Barty, he picked him up again.

Snapped! !

Another slap.

"You hit me again, you hit me again! I didn't do anything, I didn't do anything, you" Barty Crouch Jr. fell to the ground, kicked his legs, and stepped back frantically, "You you this."

Hoffa caught up with him in three steps and two steps, and picked him up by his back.

Little Barty raised her hand tearfully: "You are the boss, don't beg you, Mr. Bach, I was wrong, I was wrong, don't hit me."

Snapped!

Snapped! !

Snapped! ! !

The crisp sound echoed, and even the crying brothers and sisters in the distance stopped crying. They watched tremblingly as the bald boy riding on the yellow-haired youth in the distance, violently shooting left and right continuously.

Little Barty was dying. He lay on the ground, crying and crawling away like a deserter in a hail of bullets. General climbed to the side and yelled inarticulately: "Xinxie, Xiexi, Xiexi save me."

At this time, Nicolas stepped forward, grabbed Hoffa's arm tightly, and said anxiously: "Bach, Bach, stop beating, stop beating, you will die if you beat a dog again, and it depends on the owner if you beat a dog. The goal is resurrection."

Hoffa didn't agree, he kicked Barty Jr.'s chest while being grabbed by his arm, kicked Barty Crouch Jr. who had been beaten into a pig's head in the corner, and rolled into a pile of broken wooden barrels.

"Stop beating, Hoffa Bach," Nicole Flamel said sternly, his beard shaking anxiously, "We have to leave here, if we don't leave and wait for the Ministry of Magic to come over, we won't have a chance."

As if to confirm Nicole Flamel's words, swish swish, several broomsticks flew across the sky.

Hoffa strode forward to the broken barrel.

Little Barty hugged his head, curled up in the wood fragments and looked at him, tears, snot, blood, and broken teeth flowed down the corners of his mouth, crying bitterly, and forced a laugh while crying, Do not know what is wrong.

He dragged little Batty's withered yellow hair with one hand, dragged him out of the splintered wood with screams without mercy, and then came to Flamel and held Nicolas May's hand.

crackling.

There was a soft sound.

The three of them Apparated and disappeared.

Not long after the three of them Apparated and disappeared, a large number of Ministry of Magic officials appeared in groups in the distance. They surrounded the most chaotic area with angry expressions, and the broom flew through the thick smoke. The wizard sprayed a jet of water from his wand, dousing the flames billowing below.

When the three of Hoffa reappeared, they returned to Nico Flamel's hut in London.

in the living room.

Little Barty was still crying and screaming, as if he had suffered a great grievance. Hoffa glared at him, he knelt down again, hugged Hoffa's thigh, cried and laughed, and said in a trembling voice: "Don't~ don't~ don't hit me, I can do whatever you want, Mr. Bach , I will listen to you!"

Hoffa tore him away in disgust, picked up an empty wine bottle from Nicolas May's table, inserted it into his mouth, and said indifferently:

"Drop the bottle and you die."

"woo woo woo woo."

Little Barty finally stopped crying so harshly. He clasped his hands together, curled up in a corner, tried hard to hold the bottle in his mouth, and forced a smile on his face.

Nicole Flamel held his forehead, sat in front of the fireplace, and poked the stove with his wand. Suddenly, the fire was blazing. He looked at the little Barty who was huddled in the corner, shook his head and sighed: "I really don't know how Barty Crouch gave birth to such a son. It's really not easy."

"Don't talk nonsense, tell me everything you know about Grindelwald."

The first thing Hoffa did after throwing away Barty Jr. was to sit on the sofa and ask Nicole Flamel about Grindelwald.

Nicole May was slightly taken aback, then he shook his head and sighed softly, walked to the wine cabinet and poured himself a glass of wine, looked up to the sky and finished drinking the glass of wine, he sighed slowly, and said in a dreamy tone of memories :

"Fifty years ago, everyone in this world was involved in a nightmare, it might not be right not to mention a nightmare, it should be said that everyone was involved in a sweet dream.

That dream was so vivid that few people could wake up from it. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced that, hey, in that dream, I became myself when I was twenty, running in the fields when I first met my wife.”

"Get down to business." Hoffa interrupted his memory with a bad expression.

Nicolas poured himself another glass of wine: "But even so, some wizards with strong spiritual powers still realize that something is wrong with the world they live in.

Those sober wizards were divided into two factions. One was led by Dumbledore. They advocated killing the source of the dream and destroying the source of the dream.

But the other faction headed by Grindelwald believes that killing the source of the dream is useless, because it is impossible to know whether the source of the dream you see is the real source of the dream, so the only way is to die. Die in reality and wake up in reality, this is their way. "

Hoffa: "He succeeded?"

Nicole Flamel: "Maybe. Judging from the results, maybe it is true. He was the first group of people to leave the dream."

Hoffa sat down, staring at the swaying fire, with a gloomy expression, he thought of what Grindelwald said to himself not long ago—it’s really peaceful and prosperous, Hoffa, in our era, a hundred thousand wizards were Together, they will only kill each other and bleed each other. How can there be such peace? It's too unreal.

"So, Grindelwald believes that this world is also a dream?" Hoffa asked with a frown.

Nicolas nodded: "Perhaps all beautiful worlds are dreams to him, and only coldness and cruelty are real to him."

"Damn it!"

Hoffa leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his face vigorously.

He is not afraid of Voldemort or other dark wizards driven by interests or dignity. If there is self-desire, there will be flaws, and there will be room for use. But obviously Grindelwald is not this type, he completely pretends to be the savior of mankind.

At this moment, Voldemort's resurrection plan, Grindelwald's conspiracy to destroy the world, and his own inner desire. These intricate things are intertwined, making Hoffa's head dizzy.

He rubbed his face, almost rubbing off the skin.

In the room, Nicole Flamel looked at Hoffa sadly.

Little Batty, who was holding a bottle in his mouth in the distance, didn't dare to breathe.

But it didn't take long before Hoffa calmed down, his eyes were as firm as iron, nothing could stop him from getting the resurrection technique, he got up and came to Nicolas, "What's the number today?"

Nicole Flamel: "August twenty-fifth."

Hoffa pondered for a moment: "On August 25th, Hogwarts will start school. Get ready, we will go to Voldemort tomorrow."