321 Chapter 43, Invitation to the Prom

Helheim, the land of the dead. A round of black stars flickered, covering the white stars on the other side like a black hole.

Hoffa looked at the top exit, the man who kept jumping frogs but couldn't get out no matter what, he felt sorry for him. If even the developer of the resurrection technique, Cadmus Peverell, was hung on the thorns On the road, can I, who also have similar thoughts, escape the eyes of death?

It wasn't until little Barty pushed him that he came back to his senses.

Little Barty: "She's gone."

It turned out that when he was looking at the leapfrog man, the silver-haired ghost had already floated down the path of thorns without a sound, and it was almost invisible at this moment.

"Hey, Aglaia, wait for me."

Hoffa quickly waved his hands and chased him back, but when he chased back to the bottom of the Road of Thorns, the silver-haired ghost climbed up to the jackrabbit floating in the sky, and flew straight down, ignoring Hoffa and Little Barty's meaning.

"what to do?"

A gust of cold wind blew, and the two abandoned looked at the abyss under their feet, and looked at each other, not knowing what to say for a while.

Hoffa didn't expect Aglaia to leave them just like that, leaving as soon as he said he would, without looking back. He was so ruthless that he couldn't guess what she was thinking.

Just when they didn't know what to do, there was another gurgling sound from the heights, and a huge boulder rolled down from the height of the Way of Thorns, and hit the stone pillar on the bottom platform with a bang. .

Not long after, a man with bronzed muscles came down from a high place, came to the side of the huge stone, pressed the stone with his hands, lifted it up with great effort, then rolled the huge stone, and pushed it up a slope; Hoffa saw What I saw was a tightened face, with the cheek pressed against the stone, the shoulders supporting the big stone covered with mud, and the feet full of scars. It was Sisyphus, the never-ending stone-pushing man.

"Eh, uncle?"

Seeing hope, Hoffa hurried to Sisyphus, bent down and asked the man who was sweating profusely under the huge rock, "Excuse me, how should I get down here?"

Sisyphus, who was pushing the stone, glanced at him and said, "Jump down."

"It's so high, jumping off it will definitely kill you."

Little Batty said immediately.

"But you are dead," Sisyphus said, continuing to push the stone like a dung beetle.

"This..." Little Barty wanted to ask something else, but he seemed unable to refute it.

Hoffa nodded quickly, "I see, thank you uncle."

Sisyphus ignored him and continued to push the stone up, only seeing the stone.

The two walked towards the bottom of the road of thorns, turning back three times at each step. As they walked, Hoffa couldn't help the doubts in his heart, and went back to catch up with Sisyphus who was pushing the stone. "Wait a minute, uncle."

"Um?"

"Why don't you jump off?"

The man pushing the stone smiled and asked, "Why did I jump off?"

"Your feet are broken like this," Hoffa pointed to his bloody feet: "And this stone. How many years have you been pushing it?"

When he asked, Sisyphus smiled even more happily. He carried the boulder on his shoulders, stopped on the road of thorns, and asked Hoffa with a smile: "Do you think that people on this road are miserable?"

Hearing the screams from Prometheus in the distance, Hoffa couldn't help but nodded, and said with sympathy, "It's too miserable."

"No," Sisyphus shook his head. "The people who are really miserable are the people below. Pain and fatigue are better than insensitivity. Look, this is the job I am working on. Although I have been failing all the time, it is still a goal."

After finishing speaking, he pushed the stone with a smile, and walked slowly up the mountain, taking heavy and steady steps, towards a kind of torture that he never knew the end of.

Hoffa returned to Barty Jr. thoughtfully.

Little Barty asked him nervously: "Is what that guy said true? Is it really possible to jump off this place? I'm afraid he's not trying to scare us."

Without saying a word, Hoffa kicked little Barty's ass. With the sound of little Barty crying and howling when he fell into the abyss, Hoffa also jumped off the thorny path.

They fell to the ground like meteors, passed through thousands of meters in the blink of an eye, and fell to the ground lightly like leaves. It felt like jumping a centimeter of steps, without any waves, Sisyphus did not lie to him, and the kingdom of the dead did not die twice.

But the place where they landed was not the dark pancreas island where Aglaia stayed, but a heart-shaped isolated island the size of a football field. The sun, the moon, and the twin stars shone in the sky at the same time, and there was not a single bug on the ground.

"Hey, it's really all right."

Little Barty turned over and got up. After touching his body twice, he pulled Hoffa up again and asked, "Mr. Bach, do you plan to leave here?"

"Don't you always ask me when can I go?"

Hoffa felt sad when he thought of Aglaia who had abandoned him: "It's so good here, there are no troubles, no opponents."

"No, I don't have to do anything here, I feel uncomfortable all over." Little Batty said.

"Bitch bone."

Hoffa snorted.

"Don't you have this feeling, once you have nothing to do, you will panic?"

"No,"

Hoffa flatly refused, but in fact he couldn't help but agree with it in his heart. He didn't know how long he was going to stay in this void, but doing nothing was definitely not his style.

Clap clap!

A tsunami-like applause suddenly erupted in his ears, which startled Hoffa.

When I turned my head, I found a tall and straight arc arena in the distance, and the applause and cheers came from that building.

The environment here is far from the gloomy pancreas island where Aglaia stayed. The buildings are solemn and the ground is solid. Countless ghosts come from all directions and enter the giant arena with excited faces.

Hoffa remembered that this was the "entertainment place" that Awada had mentioned at the beginning. He was quite curious about where it was at the time, but later he met Barty Jr. and was taken by him to find Agle Ya, this curiosity is gone.

He didn't expect that after jumping off the path of thorns, he would land here.

Hogwarts, Defense Against the Dark Arts Office.

At this moment, it was already cold winter, and snowflakes fell from the sky one by one, and piled up on the window edge tirelessly.

The flames in the fireplace were crackling and burning, but Miller Gorshack, who was sitting in front of the fire, didn't feel any warmth at all. He wasn't sure if it was because his body was too old, or that damned guy had disappeared for a few days. month reason.

He controlled Alastor Moody's body and sat behind the desk, looking at a letter in front of him with a gloomy face, playing with a sharp dagger in his hand, he put his finger on the sharp edge of the dagger, touched Touched but took it back. The expression looked very hesitant.

Mixed with the crackling of the pine logs in the fireplace, there was a vague weeping in the room, which was constant and changed in tone. At first, Miller could barely keep calm, but gradually, he became impatient.

"Don't yell, yelling makes me upset."

Finally, he couldn't help standing up, strode to the box in the room, and pulled the box open.

In the box, two men were lying flat on two beds, silently, and the crying came from a vague figure kneeling beside one bed: she was crying and shouting: "Little master, little man!" Master, you are awake, you are awake."

"I told you not to shout, can't you hear me?"

Miller yelled.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuu I can't help it."

The elf looked back at him, crying tears and snot streaming down her nose, she was sobbing and couldn't stop crying at all.

"Don't shout, tell me how he is doing?"

Miller asked impatiently.

"The signs of life are getting weaker and weaker."

The house elf wept and choked, "It was really normal to breathe half a month ago, but now, they only breathe a few times a day. I really don't know what to do. Woohoo!"

The crying became louder, and a trace of hostility flashed across Miller's brows. He stretched out a palm, grabbed and threw it from the air, and the crying house-elf was thrown to the corner of the wall.

The crying finally died away.

There was silence in the box.

Miller controlled Alastor Moody's body and slowly approached the two men in the box. One of the two men had ginger hair, and the other was a middle-aged man with a bald head.

Miller came to the bald middle-aged man and took his hand. His hands were densely covered with old markings and meridians. It looked like the hands of a fifty-year-old man. In less than a few months, he was lying on the ground. The young man on the hospital bed was aged in his twenties, almost aging at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Beside the unconscious bald middle-aged man, there was a piece of bloody parchment, which was the sacrificial circle going to Helheim.

Miller picked up the parchment with a hesitant expression.

That guy Hoffa just entered Helheim and lost contact with him less than a day later. He didn't come back at the appointed time, and he didn't know what happened to him in the underworld. Completely decayed and collapsed due to the loss of life span.

Want to do something?

Are you going to the underworld to bring him back?

He hesitated.

Boom boom boom!

A hasty knock on the door woke him up from his contemplation, and he looked at the sky outside the house, it was almost dusk.

Boom boom boom!

The knock on the door became more urgent.

Impatiently, he put away the parchment, closed the box, opened the office, and walked out.

As soon as the door opened, Miller saw a head of black greasy hair that looked like a kitchen curtain that hadn't been washed for ten years. Under the hair, there were a pair of deep eyes and a daunting hooked nose.

After coming to Hogwarts for so long, Miller has recognized all the professors, including this cold and greasy Potions professor, Head Slytherin. But Miller treated most of the Hogwarts professors with contempt, with the exception of Dumbledore.

"Severus?" Miller said in an elder tone, "What are you doing here?"

Severus Snape frowned displeasedly: "Dumbledore asked me to inform you that you must come to the Christmas Eve Ball tonight, and professors from other schools have come to attend."

"Prom?" Miller raised his brows, "Isn't that well-known, do you need to come here and tell me?"

"Maybe it's because you're afraid that you won't be able to find a dance partner?"

There was a touch of sarcasm in Severus Snape's tone, "If you can find it."

"snort."

Miller snorted, noncommittal.

"At night, you may have to pack up this Auror outfit." After pointing to Moody's (Miller) clothes, he handed what looked like an invitation to Miller's hand, and then Then he turned around and left without dragging his feet, and he didn't seem to want to have anything to do with him.

"little things"

Miller closed the door, glanced at the light blue envelope in his hand, threw it on the desk without interest, sat on the chair and let out a long sigh.

It was already Christmas Eve, and it stands to reason that he should have completed the task long ago, where he came and went, but Hoffa's disappearance forced him to be tied to this post, unable to move.

Boom boom boom!

Before his butt was hot, the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office rang again. Miller became more and more impatient. He felt that it was a major mistake in his life to come to Hoffa.

Snapped! !

Miller opened the door.

This time, there was a third-year Gryffindor student standing outside the door, and a middle-aged man with his hair combed meticulously.

"This is Professor Moody's office." The Gryffindor student said, "Professor, Mr. Crouch has something to do with you."

"Director of International Affairs, Barty Crouch?"

Miller looked at the middle-aged man with meticulous hair and an unusually decent smile in front of him, and asked in amazement, "What do you want to see me for?"

"I'm here to find someone."

Said the meticulously combed man.

"Who are you looking for?" Miller asked unkindly.

Barty Crouch did not answer his question, but first said gently to the students who were leading the way: "Thank you for leading the way, Daniel, I have a few words with your defense professor."

"Okay, you and Professor Moody have a slow chat, I'm going to the dance." The Gryffindor student simply waved his arms and left the office.

After the students left, the smile on the middle-aged man's face suddenly disappeared. He pushed Miller into the office involuntarily, kicked the door shut, and then slapped Miller hard on the face.

Snapped! !

"You bastard, what are you doing here?"

The old Barty Crouch, who was smiling very decently just now, looked at Miller very ferociously as if he had changed into a different person.

Miller was stunned by the slap. He covered his face and looked at the guy who had suddenly slapped him in disbelief.

After a slap, Barty Crouch pulled out his wand and stared at Miller with a cold face: "How many people know about you? Where is Alastor Moody? ?”

Before Miller could react, the old Barty Crouch had already turned over in the office, bent over to look under the desk, and opened the cabinet for storing clothes, without treating himself as an outsider at all.

Miller rubbed his face, and gradually came to his senses. He glanced at the box in the office, and knew in his heart that this guy definitely regarded himself as his son—Barty Crouch Jr.

After rummaging through boxes and cabinets but not finding it, Old Batty threw the sheet in his hand and pointed his wand straight at Miller: "Hand over Mad-Eye Moody, and come home with me right away."

"Who told you that?"

Miller asked with a bad look.

"Who told me? Idiot, do you think I know nothing about your tricks and say, did you go back to find your dying master?"

As Barty Crouch Sr. said, he reached out to punch Miller. But Miller easily dodged a raised hand blow.

"You still dare to hide, you are really capable!"

Old Barty scolded iron and steel: "Do you know how much I spent trying to wipe your ass dry? If I hadn't been involved, just the Quidditch World Cup thing would be enough to make you lose your mind." Kissed a hundred times!"

"I'm not your son."

Miller said bluntly.

"You still say you are not!? All petrified!"

Old Batty waved his wand furiously, and a gray spell ray shot out from the wand, directly hitting Miller's face.

A killing intent flashed in Miller's eyes, he rubbed his hands together, and interrupted Barty's spellcasting by raising his hand. Crush the gray petrification spell invisible.

"What kind of look is that in your eyes? Brat, don't think you can touch me because you know a little bit of magic. I'm your father."

Before he could finish the word father, old Barty Crouch's whole body suddenly floated up. The wand in his hand also flew out of his hand and fell into Miller's hand. He waved the wand backhand, and old Batty's limbs twisted into a strange arc in the air.

"You, you, you rebellious son!"

Old Batty gritted his teeth and bled, and roared angrily: "You dare to do something to me!?"

"Who told you!?"

Miller's face was as cold as iron, "If someone hadn't tipped off the news, you would never know that someone is pretending to be Moody, say!"

"you!?"

Old Barty Crouch widened his eyes, carefully looked at the cold face in front of him, and became terrified, "You are not my son, you are not Mad-Eye, who are you?"

"It's too late to react now."

Miller tightened his palms, and the old Barty Crouch, who was floating in the air, tightened his neck, his eyes were protruding, and he gradually couldn't breathe.

At this moment, the box in the room snapped open, and the house elf with a bruised forehead came out of the box, Shining, covering her head.

As soon as she got out, she saw the middle-aged man floating in the air. After a second, she let out a piercing and high-pitched scream. Like seeing a ghost, she rolled and crawled towards the murderous Miller. In front of him, he knelt down and hugged Miller's thigh, crying, "Please, please, don't kill my master, don't kill my master!"

"Go away, Winky."

Miller kicked Winky away, and continued to hold up old Barty and asked, "Don't tell me who tipped you off, believe it or not, I'll kill you right away?"

"Well"

Old Batty's face was livid, floating in the air, speechless. He clutched his neck and kicked his legs desperately.

Winky, who was kicked away, rushed back without hesitation, hugged Miller's thigh again, and cried quickly, "Little master's life and death are unknown, and your friend is about to die. You care about other things, you go and find a way to save your friend!!"

"Can you say that again!!?"

Miller lowered his head abruptly, staring viciously at the house elf who was hugging his thigh.

But the house elf didn't give in at all, she grabbed Miller's wooden leg tightly, like a drowning man grabbing the last straw: "I said, you have the time to find a way to save your friend, can't you? Why make it difficult for others in other things."

One person and one elf looked at each other for a while.

"Hahaha"

Miller laughed at himself, but was the first to lose.

Thinking of Hoffa who was waiting to die in the box, he waved his hand casually, and threw old Barty Crouch aside like trash, as if he had exhausted all his energy.

Shining rolled and crawled to the side of old Batty, pressing against his chest hard.

Miller Gorshack stood there and said to himself: "Yeah, I don't care who tipped you off, they're all going to die anyway... they're going to die"

After talking to himself, he ordered Winky: "Bring me the evening dress, I need a carnival."