After meeting with his former Potions teacher, Hoffa got the information blockade he wanted. Although the blockade was only for a week, it also made him relieved.

As long as the information is not leaked out immediately, he still has time to crack Mance's conspiracy. Anyway, in order to get Chloe back, he will have to catch that guy sooner or later.

Tom Riddle seemed to have some things to discuss with Slughorn, so Hoffa didn't stay any longer. He stood up, said goodbye to his former Potions tutor, and walked out of the convalescence ward.

Time came to dawn, and the sky in the distance showed a fish-belly white color. At this time, a faint sleepiness came to his heart. This was a very subtle feeling, which was mixed with disgust, fatigue, and the effect of declining strength, which made him

I longed to slip back into Slughorn's dark room.

What's going on? Hoffa covered his eyes and looked at the sun in the distance. The dawn sun was like a screaming child, which was annoying to him. Moreover, the sun looked much more dazzling than usual.

As he looked at it, he couldn't keep his eyes open.

Trapped, he felt more and more something was wrong, his vision became blurry, and his strength faded faster and faster. He sat on the ground panting, and pulled open the clothes on his chest. The three-ring scar that was originally bright red on his chest became extremely intense.

It's dull and faded.

No matter how stupid he is, he knows what happened. After being reborn in the blood pool, he has some vampire characteristics and becomes infinitely energetic at night, but he cannot see the sun. Everything is reversed.

"Damn it!" he yelled angrily. "It's so powerful at night, what's the point of it!?"

The little excitement of getting Slughorn's help disappeared immediately. He originally thought that he had received the power of the gods as a blessing in disguise, but now he saw that this power was also extremely incomplete.

If strength at night must be accompanied by weakness during the day, then he would rather choose the balance of the past.

As the sun gradually rose, the feeling of sleepiness became stronger and stronger. When the sun was three o'clock in the sky, he was yawning continuously and could not lift his head from sleep.

A house elf accidentally bumped into him, and the box on its head was scattered on the floor. It apologized repeatedly, and Hoffa helped it up, yawning and said: "Hey... you...

....Can you...can you prepare a room for me...I think...I want to sleep for a while..."

The elf immediately stood up straight and said, "Of course, sir."

Then, a group of house elves appeared. They lined up to hold the boxes and put them on the ground like building blocks. Soon, a small room was built on the ground. In the room, there was a bed made of wooden boxes.

, those house elves even thoughtfully spread soft quilts on the bed.

The newly built house smelled of sawdust, but Hoffa ignored it. When he fell on the quilt, he couldn't open his eyes.

At this time, he hated Mance so much that he turned himself into this inhuman and ghostly appearance. Before falling asleep, he muttered with extreme unwillingness: "Just wait, I will definitely kill you..."

"

...

...

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing at King's Cross Station in London, looking like he had been when he was eleven years old. At this time, it was raining heavily, and he was pushing a small trolley with a load of clothes on it.

Some luggage and pedestrians around me looked very blurry.

He didn't think about how he got here, and he couldn't remember clearly. He only remembered that today was September 1st, the first day of school, and he had to walk through Nine and a Quarter Station to go to Hogwarts.

So he pushed the car forward, and when he was about to hit the wall, the car splattered all over the ground, and he fell down. When he got up, he found that he had bumped into a girl.

This scene felt a little familiar to him, so he hurried to help the girl up. After helping the girl up, he found that she actually had the face of Chloe and burgundy hair.

"Are you... okay?" he asked stammering, feeling that something was wrong.

"fine."

The little girl replied as softly as a mosquito. She nervously raised her hands and stood there with her legs stretched out.

Hoffa bent down to help her pack things, and she hurriedly knelt down to help him pack them. After packing, they walked through the stone wall of Station Nine and Three-Quarters and boarded the train to Hogwarts.

.

A month later, he was riding a rickety broomstick on the castle grounds of Hogwarts, watching others flying skillfully in the sky, filled with envy.

Time passed, a few years later.

Also on the broomstick, he waved the wooden stick vigorously, and a Quaffle approached extremely quickly, and he swiped it hard.

With a crisp slap, the Quaffle made a charming arc and fell into the circular frame in the distance.

"250 to 90! This is a score that cannot be changed even if the Golden Snitch is caught! Ravenclaw's legendary player Hoffabach once again put the team within a stone's throw of the championship...

!”

The commentator shouted fiercely and desperately on the stage, with an extremely fanatical expression. Hoffa flew in the sky, looking around happily and proudly. Among the crowd, he saw a red-haired girl in the stands covering her mouth and watching with tears in her eyes.

Own.

Time flies.

This time, he was lying in front of the fireplace in the warm living room, holding a wine bottle in one hand and stretching his left leg straight, which was wrapped in a thick bandage.

"I think it's time to live a more realistic life."

The red-haired young woman knelt on the other side of the coffee table, changing medicine for his injured leg, and said uneasily: "You can't play Quidditch like this all day long, something will happen one day..."

"Then what can I do?" Hoffa took a sip of wine and said melancholy: "I don't want to work for those guys from Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic."

"There's nothing we can do about it," the young woman held his hand: "How about I tell my family that they have a potion shop in Diagon Alley..."

"Enough!"

Hoffa banged the table, "Can you please stop telling me whether these are available or not? Do you think I am someone who depends on your parents?"

Time flies.

A few years later, he was sitting at the front desk of the potion shop, cleaning the cauldrons on the counter. A little boy stood in front of him: "Dad, I want brass cauldrons this year."

.”

"Why, everyone else uses tin."

"Who told you that everyone else uses tin? Those Slytherin guys all have copper ones."

"Then you can make money to buy it."

He threw away the rag in his hand in annoyance.

The child burst into tears.

Time flies again.

More than ten years later, he was sitting on the bed at St. Mungo's Hospital. A doctor in a white coat looked at a long list: "Dragon pox is in the middle stage. Fortunately, it was discovered in time, otherwise the person would have died. Do I need treatment?"

?”

"The cost of treatment is..."

"A thousand gold galleons." After a pause, the doctor added: "Every week."

Hoffa looked uneasily at the middle-aged red-haired woman outside the door and the tall young man standing next to her, feeling extremely depressed for a moment.

Time flies again.

He was sitting upright in a wheelchair, with a paper crown on his head and several ribbons hanging on his shoulders. In front of him stood a row of laughing men and women, some wearing pointy red hats, some holding spray guns.

Hua Qiang, someone is cutting a cake on the table.

There was a middle-aged man in the crowd holding a child and raising his cup, "Happy 70th birthday to the most amazing father in the world."

"Happy birthday~"

Everyone in front of me raised their glasses.

This scene reminded Hoffa in the wheelchair of something. It seemed that many, many years ago, he had a dream. In the dream, there were many vampires toasting their father's birthday and so on... The vague memory made him feel a little confused.

Irritated, he felt that the older he got, the less useful his brain was.

"I need to get some air," he said.

The middle-aged man in the crowd immediately put down his child and pushed his wheelchair, but he flatly refused.

A few minutes later, he rolled his wheelchair on the side of the road. Looking at the young children passing by him on bicycles and laughing, he always felt that something was missing in his life. He had spent his whole life in a muddle, and it seemed that what he had gained was not what he wanted.

What you want.

drop!!

A shrill whistle came from behind.

He turned around and saw the dazzling lights flashing by at an extremely fast speed. It was a young motorcycle gangster who was riding a motorcycle. He didn't have time to stop the car when he turned.

"I......"

Bang!

An angry curse stuck in his throat, and he was hit by the motorcycle without being able to dodge.

There was a click in the spine, and the two wheels of the wheelchair flew into the sky. Hoffa's head and buttocks came into close contact, and his eyes suddenly went dark.

...

...

"Fake!!"

He suddenly woke up from his sleep. In front of him was a dark room with a dim oil lamp. The strange smell of new wood in the room built by the house elf was still there.

But Hoffa felt as if a century had passed. The pain of loss and the feeling of being separated from another life were so strong that he almost couldn't distinguish between dreams and reality. He jumped out of bed when he understood what was happening.
To be continued...