Two days later.

North edge of Sussex, Little Hangleton. A chimney-clattering train came to a halt on the old platform.

Dressed as an ordinary Muggle, Hoffa slowly stepped off the train, and in front of him was a small village, which had been looking for him for a long time, and the nearest city of Bridgewells, was nearly twenty kilometers away.

After Nicolame told him the way to resurrection, he hurried to this place, and if nothing else, his old classmate should be somewhere in this village at this moment, waiting for an opportunity to be resurrected.

It was not seven o'clock at the moment, and it was a little gloomy, with a thick fog covering the village, the streets a little muddy, and a depressive cirling black cloud hanging low in the air. In the distance, between two steep hills, some tombstones can be seen dimly.

The dim street lamps on the gravel road shone on the mud-covered sidewalk, leaving only the glimmer of fireflies. There was also a faint yellow light shining through the glass windows of the shops on both sides, shining through the mist and shining onto the empty streets.

"Is this Voldemort's hometown....."

He said to himself, this place is actually Voldemort's nominal hometown, but Tom Riddle's real hometown should actually be in the same place as him, in the Wu orphanage in London.

Passing by a fruit stand, Hoffa thought for a moment and stopped.

"How apples are sold. He asked.

"Fivepence a pound. The boss said.

"Give me a pound. ”

"Okay. ”

"Where's the orange?"

"Threepence. ”

"Is it sweet?"

"Definitely sweet, you try. ”

"Then give me a pound. ”

"By the way, boss, do you have a place called Riddle House?"

"What?" said the fruit stall owner with a confused look on his face.

"Riddle House. ”

"Haven't heard of it. ”

The fruit shop owner shook his head.

A minute later, Hoffa was standing on the country road with a woven bag of fruit and a frown.

He looked around, only saw a few scattered lights in the distance, and did not see the legendary mansion - Riddle House, and asked several villagers in a row, but they all said that they did not know, which made him a little confused.

According to the plot of the original book, don't the residents of Little Hangleton like to talk about the tragedy at Riddle House, why don't they all say that they don't know?

Puzzled, Hoffa carried a bag of fruit and walked along the gravel path, and the more he went, the more the street lamps became more and more sparse until they disappeared.

After rounding a hillside, the streetlights disappeared completely, leaving only the dark and dense shadow of nettles in the moonlight.

At this moment, Hoffa saw a house in the distance that was half-hidden in the tangled trees. The walls were covered with moss, and the roof tiles had fallen off, revealing the hideous, rotting rafters behind them.

He stopped in front of the ruined house and frowned.

With the help of a powerful mental force field, he could perceive an extremely hidden and evil force in this house, which was very similar to the Slytherin curse that Tom Riddle had inflicted on himself back then.

Gaunt's old house?

After thinking for a moment, he determined the identity of the dilapidated old house, which made him hesitate a little, and he hesitated to go in and take a look.

After all, if this is the old Gaunt mansion, then the second of the legendary Deathly Hallows, the Resurrection Stone, is stored in this building.

Footsteps moved.

Hiss!

On the dead tree, a small entangled snake quickly fled.

Hoffa jerked his head away.

Behind him stood a woman at some point.

It was a woman with a woven bag in her hand, with coiled black hair, a V-neck purple dress, B cups, and thick eye shadow, not good-looking, with a thin body, looking at herself without blinking.

A man and a woman looked at each other silently for a moment.

The woman looked at him like this, her expression a little glazed.

Hoffa tilted his head, turned and walked over to the thin woman who was also carrying a woven bag, the moonlight shining on his bald head.

Looking out, he could see the woman in a woven bag containing bottles of milk, some raw meat and vegetables, and a few Muggle bills clutched tightly in her other hand.

After Hoffa approached her, she subconsciously turned her head and took a step back.

"Excuse me, where is Riddle House?"

Hoffa asked politely.

The woman glanced at him secretly, her eyes wandering.

Hoffa followed her gaze, and it was the top of the valley in the distance, a waning moon hiding in the clouds behind the valley.

"In that direction?"

Hoffa held out his hand.

The woman shook her head.

"It's dangerous to run out alone so late. ”

Hoffa sighed and said, "I'll send you back." ”

"Ah..... Yes...... Ah......h

Then, she turned her head and walked in the opposite direction.

but hit Hoffa headfirst in the chest.

Boom!!

She looked at the bald young man in front of her, her face horrified.

Hoffa reached out and grabbed her cold arm, smiled, slowly, but irresistibly, followed her forearm, touched her palm, and then parted her slender fingers, and lifted the woven bag in her hand to her own.

"I'll help you carry it. He said.

Syllable!

The woman didn't say a word, threw the woven bag away, twisted her waist and ran into the distance without looking back, so fast that she disappeared from Hoffa's sight almost in the blink of an eye.

Hoffa smiled slightly, and wandered away with the ghost of the two woven bags.

I saw the woman in front of her running frantically, the speed getting faster and faster, and finally her legs were twisted, and she turned back as she ran, as if there was a ghost behind her.

Following the woman, he entered a mountain manor with an open heather bush on one side and an old yew hedge on the other, behind which the trees towered to the sky. The manor has a lichen-covered stone path, and the stone pillars on either side of the gate are covered with tattered heraldic patterns. In addition to the gravel road in the middle, Hoffa found several hedges with openings and paths to enter. There is no house to see from the road, and the surrounding environment looks dark and decadent.

After arriving at the empty manor, the woman threw herself on the ground, struggling painfully and twistingly, the more she struggled, the longer her body elongated, and finally, she turned into a giant snake ten meters long.

The serpent circled the hedge three times and then swooped in.

Hoffa also circled the hedge three times, waiting for him to come out.

A majestic but dilapidated castle appeared before him, standing in the grey cold light in the thick fog, with its windows dimmed, and its high boxy and bare walls with its diamond-shaped glass windows, still as they had been left by its builders at the beginning of the seventeenth century, littered with rubbish and overgrown with bushes.

Standing beneath the castle, Hoffa knew it. It seems that in order to hide his identity and location, Tom not only hid Riddle House with magic, but also erased the memories of Riddle House from the residents of Little Hangleton.

However, he was also a little curious, if he saw the guy he hadn't seen for a long time, what posture he should use to face him.

In the memory of this timeline, the last time they met, they used mistletoe to take away a piece of his soul fragment, but I am afraid that he also hates himself to death.

However, after such an absurd life, Hoffa not only did not have much hatred for Tom, but also had a kind of helplessness to sympathize with him.

(rustling....... ）

"Shhhhh

Suddenly, a huge black snake rushed out of the shadow of the castle, jumped more than three meters high, opened its bloody mouth in the air, and bit Hoffa's neck horizontally, its scales glistening in the moonlight.

Hoffa glanced at it, he wondered why Nanigi could turn into a woman, to be honest, he was shocked when he first saw this woman, obviously not an Animagus, but there was an unknown transfiguration charm on his body, and the transfiguration was more like some kind of curse, not only uncontrollable but also very dangerous.

Click!

The snakehead bit Hoffa's bald head, but failed to bite into it.

"Don't move. ”

Hoffa said, slowly closing the two woven bags into one, then grabbed Naniji's neck with his free hand and twisted it slightly.

The serpent let out a wail and slammed into the floor, writhing wildly.

Hoffa didn't want to tear his face with Tom, after all, he had a request, so he didn't feel sorry for Nanigi, and dragged his tail towards the gap in the old porch, where there was a steep staircase leading to the castle. He looked up at the eerie place, the ruins of old rough stone walls, the musty smell of stacks of coffins, some of lead, some of stone, stacked high against one wall, reaching the arches and the roof hidden in the shadows above.

The serpent Naniji may have been desperate and left him motionless to drag.

When he walked to the hall of the castle, he suddenly heard an angry roar in the distance: "All petrified!"

A blue spell shot from the shadows on the second floor.

Then came a frenzied spell bombardment: "Shattered bones, fainted, obstacles, slackened, Avada ...... for his life"

Colorful lights flickered.

A round of spell bombardment is over, and the hall is blown up in chaos.

Smoke billowed and rubble and wood chips crackled and fell.

In the corridor on the second floor, Peter Pettigrew crouched on the ground, holding his wand in his palm, and stretched out from the middle of the guardrail, staring at the center of the hall with watery eyes.

I don't know if it's his hallucination, he just saw a bald boy carrying a woven bag, dragging Naniji's tail around from the outside, which frightened him, he had lived for so many years, and he had never seen such an inexplicable picture.

You know, Naniji is more than ten meters long, and he can swallow an adult man in one meal, but now he is being dragged by his tail and running, what is this concept?

The dust settled.

The hall was empty.

It was as if the man who was dragging Naniji's tail just now was just a hallucination on his part.

"Huh..... Hah......" Peter Pettigrew wiped the cold sweat on his head, licked his lips, and laughed: "What's the matter, have you been too nervous lately?"

"Peter Pettigrew?"

A tentative question behind him made the short man's face turn white, and he was almost petrified on the spot. It took a full five or six seconds for him to turn his head mechanically, little by little.

Behind him, the bald head dressed like an ordinary Muggle street high school student was carrying two woven bags, looking at himself with his head down, smiling.