When Hoffa opened his eyes again, he felt a bone-chilling cold. He didn't know whether it was because this winter was extremely cold, or because he hadn't felt the temperature for too long. Maybe it was both.

He slowly climbed up from the bed, and his body made a clicking sound, which was the bones colliding with each other.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was in a mess, with some ropes scattered on the table and cups and dishes on the floor in a mess. It seemed that there had been some violent conflict.

The cold wind whistled in from the window. It was about half an hour before dawn. There was an unidentifiable sobbing sound hidden in the cold wind. It was the house elf Sparkle. It was crying in the corner of the office.

"What happened?" Hoffa walked up to the elf and asked. As soon as he opened his mouth, he was startled by his own voice. His voice was hoarse and unclear, as if it was not his own.

"Master...Master is gone...take the little master away..."

Twinkle cried and pointed to the scattered ropes on the ground.

Hoffa looked around and found no sign of Barty.

Bah.

A soft sound.

Miller controlled Moody's body to stand up and lit the fireplace in the office.

By the flickering firelight in the fireplace, Hoffa caught a glimpse of his own image on the glass.

A few months have passed, and all of his hair that was burned in the fire has grown back. It's just that he stayed in Helheim for too long and spent too much life. At this moment, he has grown from the dozen or so people he once was.

The 20-year-old boy has turned into a middle-aged man with dull eyes. His gray-white hair hangs down from his thin forehead. Under the deep nasolabial folds on his cheeks are a pair of deep-set dim golden eyes. He is more beautiful than ever before.

haggard.

"Little Barty was taken away by his father."

Hoffa said to Miller, who was squatting in front of the fireplace.

"When did you still have time to take care of him?" Miller said weakly: "Did you hear what Aglaia said? Six thousand times, Merlin Beard...what exactly are we going through?"

"yes."

Hoffa whispered, looking at his withered hands, unusually calm: "Six thousand times, if my fate has been repeated six thousand times, then the fate of little Barty and his father has also been repeated six thousand times."

"Patricide."

"Not only did he kill his father, but he also led to destruction."

Hoffa thought that in the original work, Old Barty was killed, and Little Barty also had his soul sucked out by dementors and died. This fate is probably one of the six thousand cycles, which cannot be changed or violated.

"What on earth are you thinking about, Hoffa, what should we do next!?" Miller threw away the poker and rubbed his head anxiously.

"The previous method won't work, it's pointless. I have to go find Dumbledore, go find anyone I know."

Hoffa put down his palm, and the flame in his golden eyes ignited again: "I have always avoided being discovered by Dumbledore, but that must have become a part of my fate bound by Death. I must break the rules and find every way to get out of the deadlock.

.”

After saying that, he stood up and left the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, and Miller hurriedly followed him: "How do you know you didn't think this way six thousand times before? I mean, if you think this way, then you must have other thoughts.

I would think so."

"Then do you have any better suggestions?"

"I suggest you don't do anything and find a place to live in seclusion. Don't worry about it."

"How do you know that I didn't listen to you six thousand times before?"

Hoffa kept walking.

...

At this time, it was just dawning in Hogwarts, but the sky was so gloomy that no sunlight could be seen. The frosty snow was so hard that it made a creaking sound when running on it. The students in the morning shrank and wrapped their robes tightly.

He hurried past with his book in his arms, his face expressionless.

It should be the end of Christmas at this moment, the second event of the Triwizard Tournament has ended, and the third event has not yet started. The castle is full of students from other magic schools. The students of Durmstrang are wearing thick clothes.

Brown and black cloaks, Beauxbatons students wear silver-gray fringed robes.

As he passed by those students, Hoffa began to feel a little confused. Although there were many students in the school, there were no words between the students. The school at Nottingham University was so quiet that no one spoke, which inevitably made him feel confused.

People are frightened.

"what happened?"

he asked Miller.

"This is how Christmas begins."

Miller replied, "I don't know what happened."

The silent flow of people held textbooks and quietly passed by the two of them, heading towards the school auditorium. It was precise and without any friction, like puppets on strings.

"hateful!"

Hoffa strode against the flow of people and walked towards the top floor of the castle. The bustling magic school was transformed into a weird center at some point. He was very eager to get out of that damn cycle and change his own destiny. If he could, he would

He hoped to change the fate of those around him, including these students who were trapped in dreams, but he didn't know what to do and could only place his hope on Dumbledore.

Before he reached the top floor, he saw many journalists from the wizarding society. They were gathered in rows in front of Dumbledore, holding spotlights, pushing and noisy, and they looked more normal than the quiet students.

Much more.

"what happened?"

Hoffa searched his memory, but could not remember that such a thing happened in the original work. For the first time, history deviated from his understanding, which made him worried and happy at the same time.

After a while, a white-haired old man wearing a pointed wizard hat and gray-white robes came down the spiral staircase in the office. It was the current headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor, Professor Dumbledore!"

Hoffa called out to Dumbledore, separated the crowd, strode to Dumbledore, pressed his shoulder and turned him around, "Professor Dumbledore, it's me, do you still recognize me?"

Everyone around looked at Hoffa who suddenly appeared with surprised eyes. Dumbledore lowered his blue eyes and looked at him through half-moon lenses, with confusion shining in his blue eyes.

Dumbledore's calm appearance made Hoffa feel uneasy, but at this time, he didn't care much and immediately whispered in Dumbledore's ear: "Listen, you must stop the Triwizard Tournament. This game

It was the opportunity for Tom Riddle to resurrect, and he asked me to come over, make the portkey into a trophy, and send Harry Potter there at the end of the game so that he could be resurrected."

Hofar said very quickly: "If you don't want to see people die and don't want to see the outbreak of war in the future, you must stop the game now."

After finishing speaking in one breath, Hoffa's heart was beating loudly. He looked at Dumbledore expectantly, hoping that he could believe his words and make changes immediately.

After hearing this, Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh. He patted Hoffa on the shoulder: "I understand. Please wait for a while. I will talk to you in detail after I finish the press conference."

After saying that, he didn't wait for Hoffa to express his opinion. He stretched out his hands and said to reporters: "Listen, I want to announce today's major event."

Suddenly, the reporters below became excited. They raised the spotlights in their hands and exposed rounds of white light, almost blinding people's eyes.

Hoffa was very weak during the day, and it was even more uncomfortable to look at the dazzling white light. He had to cover his eyes and hide in the corner. But after seeing Dumbledore, he felt confident that if he could get his

Help, I should have a high chance of breaking that damn cycle.

Only Dumbledore was heard saying: "This year, the Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts as scheduled. So far, it has achieved great success. Our four warriors overcame all obstacles and completed two difficult challenges, and the wizarding society

They also expressed corresponding concern for us, but this level of concern is far from enough..."

After a pause, he laughed: "For this reason, I announce that on the night of the final, all spectators who come to Hogwarts to watch the final of the Triwizard Tournament will not only be exempted from tickets, but will also receive a hundred gold bonus.

For this reason, we even have a super grand prize of 10,000 gold galleons, and a free lottery opportunity for all viewers. Anyone who comes to watch the game will have the opportunity to win..."

Hoffa in the corner was stunned, what!?

He looked at the smiling Dumbledore in the crowd and couldn't say a word for a long time.

When Dumbledore finished reading out a large section of incentives, the reporters became excited and handed the microphones to Dumbledore one after another.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, are you telling the truth!?"

"Has the Ministry of Magic agreed to your move?"

"When will the last competition start?"

"What drove you to make this decision?"

...

Hoffa carefully pressed against the old man in the crowd, and finally noticed something strange. The elder wand inserted in Dumbledore's waist was exuding some kind of dark energy.

The energy is completely imperceptible to the naked eye.

Seeing the strangeness between the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore, Hoffa's heart plummeted until he reached the bottom. The newly born hope was instantly shattered. He thought of the night when he first met Miller, and accidentally walked into Dumbledore's house.

In his office, Dumbledore was a little strange at that time. Now, he was vaguely aware of what was going on.

Surrounded by reporters, Dumbledore even glanced at Hoffa, his eyes full of smiles. Hoffa's inner uneasiness immediately expanded into fear. It was daytime and he did not have any frontal combat capabilities.

A pair of hands grabbed him in the crowd, and when he looked back, it was Miller.

"Let's go."

Miller stared at Dumbledore with Moody's magic eye, turned around and walked away with Hoffa, heading outside the castle without looking back.

The two hurriedly walked down the swaying magic stairs. Dumbledore, who was surrounded by reporters holding spotlights, did not stop them or even glance at them again.

"Dumbledore has been controlled by someone, we have to get out of here quickly." Miller said irritably.

"He doesn't recognize me anymore."
To be continued...