London in April was shrouded in an eerie fog that no one knew where it came from. www.biquge.info For several weeks, traffic accidents occurred one after another, and countless people died. It is comparable to the London smog incident in 1952, only this time the situation is more serious and unbelievable.

If it's just a traffic inconvenience caused by dense fog, it's fine. A large number of flights have been cancelled, and even cars have to turn on their headlights when driving on the highway during the day. Outdoor concerts were also canceled because people could not see the stage. People can tolerate it, London's underground system is well developed, people try not to use ground transport when traveling, and the government is starting to take measures - with little effect. But the more and more frequent strange events have made the whole situation begin to develop in a direction out of control.

More and more people are developing a strange illness in which their eyes are blank and they do not respond to any external stimulus. Pain, screaming, or sudden startles could not elicit the slightest reaction. Inability to swallow, chew food, and walk on their own. Except for breathing, heartbeat, and blinking, the whole person is like a dead person.

People call it soul loss - the folk definition is surprisingly accurate.

British and foreign medical experts are puzzled. Top medical schools and well-known experts from all over the world have been invited to the UK, but nothing has been gained except to find out that the patients are in the same state.

The only plausible explanation is that the condition is related to dense fog. Because the loss of the soul comes with a thick fog, it is a series of chain reactions. France forcibly closed the undersea tunnel connecting to London, and countries began to impose a unilateral blockade on the United Kingdom.

It caused a massive panic among the British people, who rushed for food and water, and ransacked banks and ATMs. Although experts and scholars from various countries have said that this disease is by no means contagious. However, as the number of patients continues to skyrocket, all explanations seem futile.

It's as if God didn't think Britain was miserable enough. After the prime minister died in a traffic accident, the British government and members of the royal family were forced to leave London, and London was declared to be under military control, and people rushed to flee London.

The heads of government were unmoved by this and further tightened the blockade of the United Kingdom. France and all countries close to Britain unilaterally declared a ban on flights and travel in the English Channel.

The fog spread around London and began to spread in all directions. First of all, it affected France, the Netherlands, Belgium and other countries, and hurriedly issued an order to evacuate all areas where there was dense fog, and citizens immediately evacuated the area after informing the relevant departments. Dense fog rarely appears in the countryside and is only found in the cities as if it were wise.

The whole of Europe was thrown into chaos because of a heavy fog.

Two bearded men leaned against the iron railings of 13 Grimmauld Place, their figures looming through the fog. Since the beginning of the year, the square has attracted a small number of visitors who seem to be interested in this anomaly. Almost every day, one or two people come to Grimmauld Place, for no other purpose (or as it seems), just to lean on the railing facing Nos. 11 and No. 13 and gaze at the junction of the two houses. The peepers who come every day are different from the day before, but they don't seem to like normal clothing. Most Londoners passing by are accustomed to fancy dress, so they don't pay attention to it, except for the occasional glance back, wondering why someone is still wearing a long cloak.

The peepers seem to get little satisfaction out of the watch. Occasionally, a person rushes forward excitedly, as if he has finally seen something interesting, but always retreats back disappointed.

Since London was covered in thick fog, they have become inconspicuous. Every pedestrian hurried along with their heads down, and no one wanted to stop to observe these strangely dressed guys.

"What time is it?" asked a peep looking at the newspaper without looking up.

"It's 3 o'clock, damn it. The companion complained, "How long are we going to be watching?"

"Wait until Potter is caught. ”

"Apparently no one lives here," his companion smacked to the ground, "I said, why don't we have some fun." ”

Suddenly, there was a noise not far away. The two men drew their wands with agility and looked nervously in the direction from which the voice came. The fog was thick, and it was difficult for the two of them to even see each other's appearances, let alone see the details in the distance. The newspaper slowly fell to the ground, and a breeze blew through it and disappeared into the thick fog.

"Go see, I'm keeping it. ”

The companion nodded and said, "Within 5 minutes, I can't come back, so call someone right away." ”

After finishing speaking, he walked into the fog and soon disappeared.

"It's okay, it's just a cat. The companion's relaxed words came from the fog, and the peep breathed a sigh of relief.

"Damn errand. The companion came back with his head bowed, and the two of them were calm again.

Phoenix and Hermione, cloaked in invisibility, walked up the stone steps, Phoenix knocked on the front door with his wand, only to hear a series of loud metal strikes, and a clang-like sound like a chain, and then the door creaked open, and they quickly stepped over the threshold.

The two of them were still chatting with each other, and with a wave of his wand, Phoenix lifted the Imperius curse.

Hermione closed the door behind her, and the old-fashioned gas lamps lit up all at once, flickering lights illuminating the long hallway. Walking through the cobweb-strewn, mottled corridors, the heads of the house-elves on the walls cast strange shadows on the stairs, and the long dark curtains obscured the portrait of Sirius's mother.

"Looks like they've been keeping an eye on here. Phoenix said, walking forward.

"Maybe the expectation catches us, and every time you have to apparilate to the steps. Hermione muttered.

"Don't move!" the two wizards on the stairs raised their wands and pointed at them.

Immediately after the curtain was lifted, the woman screamed, "Mudblood, dirty, stained my house—"

"Shut up!" one of them roared, pointing his wand at her, and with a bang, the curtain closed suddenly, and she was silent.

"Don't fire, it's us, Phoenix and Hermione!"

"Show me the proof!" he shouted.

"I asked you two idiots to spy on Gringotts. Phoenix replied.

"Oh, that's right," the two of them lowered their wands, "how are you doing?"

Walking down the stairs, in the blue light of the gas lamp, they could see the comer. It was Fred and George.

"Alright, how are you guys?" said Hermione happily, "Still selling constipation people?"

"Oh, don't mention it. Fred beckoned them in, "There are scarves and Death Eaters everywhere, and we can barely make ends meet, and people don't dare to go out into the streets. ”

They descended into the kitchen, and Hermione pointed her wand at the grate, and the flames burst into flames, creating an illusion of comfort on the cold stone wall and reflecting the light of the long wooden table. George waved his wand, and four bottles of Butterbeer flew in, just stopping in front of them, and the four of them sat down.

"What about Harry?" said George curiously.

"Leaving him in France," Phoenix explained, "he still has traces, it's too risky." ”