Chapter 347 1. Disappearing Magic

On the screen, a faded bird is locked in a cage, jumping around anxiously. It seemed to want to leave the cage desperately, but it couldn't break through the cold fence. There seemed to be something outside the fence, but there seemed to be nothing.

The silent movie on the screen continued, and Hoffa and Miranda sat on the sofa, watching the scenes in the movie together. With the flow of the picture, Hoffa's expression gradually paled and solemn, he seemed to remember something special, as if somewhere outside the dream, he once sat in front of the TV like this, and watched a movie with another person like this.

"Hoffa."

Miranda called him.

Hoffa didn't answer, he just stared at the movie blankly, like a lost ghost. Pale again like an empty shell that has lost its heart.

Miranda was silent for a moment. Finally, she stood up, opened the door, and left the room where the movie was being shown.

After bouncing around for a while, the bird stopped moving. It stood in the gorgeous cage, quietly looking at the scenery outside the window. There is some longing and nostalgia in the eyes, what is it missing?

"Chirp."

It opened its mouth and let out a cry.

The bird song hit Hoffa like ten thousand Cruciatus Curse, and the huge shock made him slowly wake up from the dream.

The rushing subway is still moving forward, but there is no one around, the empty carriage is swaying, the suspension rings on the subway collide with each other and clang, and the heavy rain falls from the sky, hitting the glass next to his ear. All of them are dense pinpoints. Everything else is the gray steel forest in the distance, and the wreckage of tanks can be seen everywhere beside the road.

He seemed to have been in a deep sleep for a long time, and he also had an almost endless nightmare.

In the nightmare, he seemed to have a wife and children. Something else seemed to have happened before the nightmare. What was it?

Hoffa tried hard to remember, and then he recalled some broken and fragmented images, the light-dappled coast, silver hair, and some whispered words.

Just recalling these things made him feel an invisible sharp pain, as if every cell in his body was trembling, he covered his head, bent down violently, his stomach acid surged wildly.

The severe pain and convulsions lasted for an unknown amount of time before he slowly recovered from the severe pain. At this moment, the train had already stopped at the station. A pleasant female voice sounded from the station. "Welcome to King's Cross Station, I wish you a pleasant journey."

The aftertaste of pain still lingered on Hoffa's body. He barely stood up, staggered out of the empty carriage while holding on to the car seat.

It was raining outside the carriage, and muffled thunder flashed in the dark sky from time to time. Some passengers stayed at the station in twos and threes, either smoking or talking, and the air was filled with damp and cold mist.

The mist fell on Hoffa's face, making him shiver. He vaguely remembered what mission he came to this place to perform, but he couldn't remember exactly what he wanted to perform, just like the characters in the dream, and those grotesque contents, now only fragments remained screens and fragments.

He touched his body, and there was nothing valuable on his body, except for a strange purple pendant on his chest, he only had a set of clothes. He took out the pendant from his chest, feeling slightly confused. If he remembered correctly, this item should be related to a person. But who is that person? He couldn't remember for a while.

In other words, his mind was blank and he couldn't remember anything.

This feeling made him very uncomfortable. He rubbed his head and tried hard to remember, trying to remember something. However, things went against his wishes, he couldn't recall anything related to himself, only some fragmented pictures, those strange pictures seemed to be related to magic.

magic is right

He stretched out his palm to catch the rain in the sky.

However, the expected deformation did not appear, he failed to deform his palm, and he also failed to deform the rain. Everything was so peaceful and mediocre, he couldn't feel the slightest trace of magic at all.

This made Hoffa very confused. Although his mind was only fragmented, he clearly remembered the gliding under the high tower, the explosion in the castle, the dragon over the black lake, and the endless time and space. And the endless white light . Some vague pictures flowed through his mind, causing him invisible pain again, and he bent down hard, covering his head. Violent spasms in his stomach caused him to spit out puddles of acid in the drizzle.

Passers-by looked at the boy bent over and vomiting with sympathetic eyes, and someone came to Hoffa with concern and asked, "Are you all right, young man?"

"It's okay, thank you."

Hoffa stood up and asked the passerby, "What year is it now?"

"Look at you asking, did you just come back from the battlefield? My nephew too, now whenever he hears thunder, he's too frightened to hide in the cupboard and dare not come out. I don't know how long it will take to recover. Poor." The passer-by sighed and left shaking his head.

The thunder in the sky continued, and some scattered information appeared in Hoffa's mind, war, time, magic, London, and King's Cross Station.

King's Cross?

He looked at the sign of the station in the distance and thought of Station Nine and Three Quarters. It seemed like a long, long time ago, but it seemed like it happened in the last second. He still remembered that as long as he walked through that station, he could see magic.

magic.

At this moment, Hoffa's brain is in chaos, and all his memories have turned into shattered fragments, which seem to be true or false, dreamlike or unreal, and in this chaotic memory, magic is the only thing he believes in.

He should find magic. If he finds that magical world, maybe he can find a way out of the predicament, maybe he can know what happened to him, and now it is really unbearable to recall the extremely painful feeling.

After making up his mind, he walked towards the station engraved in his brain, and when he came to the familiar wall, Hoffa ran without hesitation. With his eyes closed, he bumped his head against the wall without looking back. past.

Then, there was a muffled sound.

Boom!

Hoffa twitched and fell to the ground.

The mind went blank, and the passers-by waiting for the train at the station noticed the young man with his head leaning against the stone wall like a bullfighting bull. They gasped and covered their mouths. Someone wandered over uncertainly, leaning his neck to look at the boy with a big swollen head, not sure what he was up to.

After being dizzy for a while, Hoffa groped to get up from the ground, but the collision didn't hit platform 9 and three-quarters, but knocked his already chaotic brain into a mess.

This confused him. He clearly remembered that this wall could be crossed. He clearly remembered that he had crossed this barrier several times and entered a magical and thrilling magical world.

Reluctantly, he got up, shook his head, and slammed into the wall again.

Boom!

The impact was even worse, the blood on his head was imprinted in the cracks of the bricks, but the cold cracks of the bricks showed no sign of opening to the boy in front of him. It was firmly motionless, and it remained indifferent even though the head of the foolish person was bleeding.

He got up and wanted to do it again reluctantly. At this time, people around surrounded him, grabbed him with all their might, and persuaded him:

"Young people are looking for short-sightedness."

"The war is over and everything will be fine."

"Don't hit your friend. It's not a good way to choose a death. If you have to hit a wall, it hurts."

Hoffa broke free from the shackles of the crowd, he stared at the stone wall in puzzlement, and finally determined that this wall was not something he could arch into.

Declining everyone's kindness to send him to the hospital, he left King's Cross station in a daze, clutching his bleeding head. When he left, he tried his best to sort out his memory, trying to sort out some useful things from the fragmented thoughts, but he couldn't remember anything. He only remembered that he should be a wizard, a wizard with a lot of magical magic. But he can't use anything now, just like a Muggle.

Muggle?

what is that?

Hoffa asked himself.

Then it dawned on him that Muggles are people who don't know magic.

However, recalling this memory almost made him faint from the pain. This pain is different from physical pain, but more similar to spiritual pain. The pain is invisible and intangible but extremely real.

I don't know how long he walked before he recovered from the inexplicable pain. When he stopped, he found himself in a relatively busy street. There are quite old-fashioned stone buildings on both sides of the street. The stone buildings are surrounded by high iron fences. Outside the iron fences are rows of small apartment buildings with two or three floors. The personnel, with a hurried look, got into the black car holding an umbrella.

Due to the inexplicable pain just now, Hoffa walked completely unconsciously. He let his legs lead him to this place. The apartment buildings on both sides of the street made him feel a little inexplicably familiar. There is even a trace of familiarity—kindness.

This kindness made him bend over and feel nauseated again. Hoffa was so depressed that he was dying, and finally the nausea ended. He stood up reluctantly and came to a newsstand near the corner of the street.

There are many newspapers hanging on the newsstand. An elderly boss is leaning on a chair, wearing reading glasses and smoking a pipe. While smoking, he is carefully studying a color magazine. Hoffa smiled.

That smile made Hoffa's scalp tingle, and he picked up a newspaper, which recorded some news about the return of the army and the civil war in the Far East. The black and white photos of tanks and armored vehicles were frozen in the page, motionless.

"Why doesn't this photo move?"

Hoffa asked the newsstand owner, pointing to the photo in the newspaper.

Amidst the smog, the boss's big nose poked out from behind the photo of the plump girl, and he stared at Hoffa with strange eyes.

"What did you say, boy?"

"I said that this photo will not move." Hoffa asked naturally.

"How can a photo be moved? Can it be called a photo if it can be moved?"

The boss asked back in astonishment.

"Is it--?"

Hoffa's voice was long, like a mentally handicapped person.

"Young man, is there something wrong with you here?"

The boss of the newsstand pointed to his head and asked cautiously.

"I think so, I can't remember anything."

Hoffa said honestly.

"Did you fight the war?"

The owner of the newsstand said somewhat sympathetically: "I've seen your disease before, shell shock, I remember Yankees seem to call this disease that way, when you hear a slightly louder voice, you will be abnormal."

"Maybe"

Hoffa didn't know exactly how he ended up in this situation, but people around him said that he fought in a war, maybe he really did. With that said, he put down the newspaper and asked the boss in front of him.

"Old man, have you ever heard of magic?"

As soon as the word "magic" was spoken, Hoffa saw the old man in front of him change his face. The frightened expression flashed past, and soon disappeared without a trace.

"Young man, you may need to see a doctor, don't you think?"

The boss of the newsstand sat up straight and said in a serious manner.

doctor

Hoffa wasn't too sure if he should see a doctor, either.

Maybe he really has some disease, which is causing his memory to be confused.

Before he could finish speaking, the owner of the newsstand grabbed an old-fashioned shaker phone, shook it a few times, and dialed a number. He covered his mouth and started muttering into the microphone. While peeking at Hoffa with his eyes.

Seeing the man's eyes, Hoffa felt a little uneasy instinctively. He put down the newspaper and hurriedly left the newsstand. However, before he took two steps, someone followed behind him. They were some guys in the clothes of public officials. They stood on the street or in a telephone booth, staring at him while talking on the phone.

There is something wrong with this place, Hoffa thought to himself, he walked in a hurry, and got into a remote alley in a panic. However, as soon as he entered the alley, he bumped into a thick wall head-on, but the wall was not hard, but rather soft.

Looking up, it turned out that he had bumped into a strong man. I saw a strong man wearing a thick windbreaker standing at the corner of the alley, and there were two guys dressed as doctors beside the strong man. They wore masks, and the eyes on the masks stared coldly at Hoffa.

The strong man took off his hat, bowed slightly to Hoffa, and said, "Hi, Mr. Bach, we finally found you."

"Mr. Bach? What's that?"

Hoffa asked in a daze.

The man touched his chin, then opened the briefcase he was carrying, took out a few documents from the briefcase, flipped through them, and then put the document in front of Hoffa without any doubt, and said: "Hoffa Bach, you You have been under the care of this hospital for six years. A few days ago, due to the negligence of the care staff, you were accidentally lost. Fortunately, through our unremitting efforts, we finally found you."

This court?

Hoffa thought of something, but when he looked at the list in front of him again, his face became a little weird. On the list was a gray haired head with dyed hair, which is quite characteristic of a bum. The guy was wearing earrings, and his eyes turned out to be golden. This is not the most incredible thing. Patient Zero.

There was a shop window next to the alley, and Hoffa's face was reflected in the dirty window. He saw that he had black hair and black eyes, and he was not at all similar to the people on the list.

"This is me?" he asked, pointing to the person on the list.

The strong man glanced at the list and nodded firmly.

"This is you."

"That's not me."

Hoffa yelled.

Strong man: "You said he is not you?"

"Ah." Hoffa nodded, pointing to his head, "How can this be me?"

"This is you. You were trendy back then." The brawny man said.

Then, without waiting for Hoffa to distinguish, the strong man dragged back to the list, waved his hand, and the two doctors in white coats behind him quickly stepped forward, each on the left and right grabbed Hoffa's arms with one hand, and dragged him forward go.

Hoffa became terrified, he immediately twisted and struggled and asked, "What are you doing, where are you taking me?"

"Nature is where you should go." The strong man said.

Two doctors dragged Hoffa to a black car whose doors were pulled open. He was forcibly pushed into the back seat, and then two doctors involuntarily fixed his wrists on the car seat, where there were thick leather rings specially used for fixation. The strong man whistled and got into the driver's seat, shaking his head, looking very happy. Then, the car started and drove away.

This situation made Hoffa feel very uneasy. He broke free twice, but failed to break free from the leather ring. He couldn't help asking: "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why did you do this to you?" The strong man whistling said in surprise, "Don't you have any points in your heart?"

"What number? I don't remember anything. Did I make a mistake?"

Hoffa asked writhingly.

"Yes, Monsieur Bach, you have made a mistake, and not just an ordinary mistake."

"What did I do wrong?" Hoffa asked.

Whoosh!

As soon as the man turned the steering wheel, the car and a bus passed by at a very fast speed. After passing by, the man turned from the driver's seat to look Hoffa in the eyes.

"There is no magic in this world, Mr. Bach."

The man said seriously.

The last volume will not be interrupted. Let’s write it all the way to the end. I hope everyone will give me the monthly pass. I want to see the limit of this book.