The Dark Lord at Hogwarts is not too cold

In a remote small village, a man was smoking a cigarette, dressed plainly but quite expensive in terms of fabrics, all of which were pure animal skins.

He shrunk his clothes and couldn't help but look at the sun in the sky covered by clouds.

"Mr. Lockhart, the weather is getting colder and colder... summer is as cold as winter." The small vendor handed over the vegetables, breathed into his palms, and rubbed them together, "how can there be any ingredients here?" feasible..."

"It's mostly quiet~" Lockhart said with a smile, loosening his brows.

Ever since he got out of prison early through his contributions to the spell through the research notes on the previous memory spell, he ran to the Muggle world. Perhaps the memory Cyrus left for him was so deep that he also imitated it. stand up.

Or maybe it was the upsurge that Cyrus caused in the Muggle novel world, which also made Lockhart start to sink his heart and try to make real creations.

The room is not very big, just a Nordic-style wooden room. After lighting the fire, he sat on a chair and quietly conceived some strange things he heard in this area, thinking of ways to weave his own story content.

In addition to the recorded manuscripts, there are also some published books on the side desk, most of which are labeled "werewolf", "magic" and "wizard".

It was only then that Lockhart realized... It turned out that it was only necessary to mark the source of the story at the end of the novel. This is not a big deal for some small villages, but it can also attract some tourists.

"The weather..." He tightened his shawl and added another handful of firewood.

He always felt that the diffuse fog and cold were very similar to Azkaban, and thinking of the "Azkaban escape" incident before he was released from prison, he instinctively wanted to stay away from these troublesome things.

'That's it... I'm leaving England after I've written this ghost story! ' thought Lockhart.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Lockhart mistook it as a reader from the village asking for an autograph, so after stretching, he got up very slowly, moving his feet on the carpet little by little.

"Are you Gilderoy Lockhart?" There were two tall men standing outside the door, and one of the young men stretched out his hand to support the open door.

"It's me...I want to sign it, right?" Lockhart shook his head and said to himself, seeing that both of them were empty-handed, "Can you please wait for a while, I will go and find out if there is any spare book ...."

But the other party was more unreasonable than him, stuck one foot in the crack of the door, then opened the door with great force, and squeezed in.

Lockhart was so frightened that he backed away again and again, and out of habit, his right hand touched his lower back, but the strong man quickly pinched his wrist, and he felt that his hand was about to be cut off.

"You... who are you?!" Lockhart wanted to break free, but he was as powerless in the opponent's hands as chickens.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, who was released early in 1994 with an 'improved memory spell'...then visited the English countryside for inspiration, and was good at fantasy novels...a dark horse in the world of fiction..."

Lockhart's pupils dilated slightly when he heard the other party tell his story.

who are they?Could it be that Demon King who can't even mention his name?But why did the Death Eaters seek him?

"I don't understand what you're talking about...Although I'm writing a novel, wizards don't really exist," Lockhart said with a sneer. "But werewolves may exist, but I haven't seen them either."

"Forgive us for using this method, but time is really limited." The strong man clamped his wrists, pressed his back, and pushed Lockhart out, while another person carefully put the key on him, close the door.

Parked on the path under the dirt slope was a black car.

Lockhart felt chills in his heart. This place is really too remote. Even the small town where he usually buys things needs to be walked for five or six minutes. Even if he called for help loudly, no neighbor around could hear him.

It could be Death Eaters... that was the only thought in his mind.

Sitting in the car, his legs were shaking. At this moment, he even thought about where he would be buried... Pity his readers and novels, such a great novelist will die young .

"You're looking for this?" The man saw Lockhart fumbling around his waist, so he reluctantly took out a wooden stick.

This is a wizard?

It seems that not all wizards are like their captains~

"Listen... I've paid for what I've done before," Lockhart told him earnestly, "Even those whose memories have been wiped, I've given them a lot of Galleons... I have nothing to do with Dumbledore either."

Seeing that the person sitting next to him didn't speak, he continued nervously: "I don't have what you want! Kill me... You know, I'm a famous person..."

"Listen, it's Cyrus who said...you're a master of memory spells." He looked helplessly through the rearview mirror and exchanged glances with his driving companion.

"Like I said, I don't know... what? Cyrus?" Lockhart paused for a moment, blinking comically. "He's looking for me? I'm a master of memory spells... aha! That's right." , I am indeed a genius in this area!"

Maybe he wanted to find some topics to dispel the heavy atmosphere, so Lockhart started his talk show again.

This time it was not Lockhart who was having a headache, but the two people who were looking for him. They wondered if they had found the wrong person, but... After some inquiries and inquiries, it was indeed the...

Right?

"You may not know, but I'm also Cyrus' teacher... He asked me a lot about the Memory Curse back then." Lockhart sighed and shook his head straight, but his eyes sometimes drifted to his wand .

From here to London, it takes ten hours on the road, and this is only one-tenth of it.

But Lockhart seemed to never be able to stop talking. After hearing the name 'Cyrus', he seemed to predict that these two uninvited guests would not hurt him.

"Okay ok... Master of Memory Charms..." Young James Pitt twirled his wand in circles on his fingertips, "We're not interested in your 'job', and we're not wizards~ "

"Not...wizards? Muggles?!" Lockhart screamed and stood up, but let the carport hit his head.

"Voldemort of your wizarding world, killed a man in a residential area of ​​ordinary people" The driver, the oldest of the three, the beard on his chin has turned gray, "We need your help..."

"Don't say that name!"

"Don't say...which name?" Poison James looked at him in shock, and said deliberately, "Is it Voldemort? I don't think the name Voldemort is scary...Voldemort...Voldemort?"

Lockhart instantly felt that his breathing was not smooth. He clutched his chest and looked at the gray sky in fear.

"You've said it four times already!!" He covered his ears and squeezed into a corner.

"Oh~ you are a 'Master'." James laughed amusedly, "Master is also afraid of Voldemort? What will happen if I say the name...Uh! I suddenly can't feel breathing..."

Lockhart saw him grab his throat suddenly, his face livid, and he just bumped his head against the back of the chair.

As if disturbed by something, he didn't know what to do, so he pulled his clothes and kept patting Mike Bell who was driving.

"Look! Look!!" he screamed, trying to get away from the Muggle car, "I told you not to call that name!"

It wasn't until Mr. Mike was annoyed that he couldn't stand it anymore, and then he shouted loudly: "Stop playing! Tell this stupid wizard about our next mission!"

Like calling out his soul, James regained consciousness in an instant, pointing at the flustered Lockhart and laughing loudly.

"Just kidding... relax, man"

"I'm not kidding!" Lockhart snatched his wand angrily, and said through gritted teeth, "You are the most bastard, most disrespectful Muggles I've ever met!!"

"It's London, why don't you treat me to a big meal... It's boring"

"Gas...did you know that you were the most asshole in 'Rainbow'..."