The Plane Merchant of Hogwarts

"Are you back?" After Rolf entered the cultivation space, Rolf stood up with a serious expression and said.

"What's wrong?" Rolf looked nervous, afraid that something would happen.

Roll didn't say much, and shared the memory with Rolloff. This memory began with Roll's phantom shift:

After Roll successfully engraved the talented spell of Phantom Transformation, the spell model actually started to operate automatically.

Then a dizzy feeling came over, which felt a little like the memory of Floornet that Rolf had previously passed to him.

He fell on the hard and cold stone ground and took a breath of air conditioning. When he raised his head, what caught his eye was no longer the small villa in the cultivation space, but the dark walls.

What's going on? I was originally in the cultivation space, but how did I appear here? This is not the same space, how did I travel through space?

But another serious problem is facing Roll. What is this?

Before he could express this question, an old man's voice sounded from the upstairs, with great vigilance.

"Who are you? Why can you phantomize here?" Then there was a burst of hurried footsteps.

Immediately afterwards, an old man with white hair appeared at the entrance of the stairs. He was dressed in rags, and his white hair seemed to be entangled with his equally white beard because he had not taken care of it for a long time, making it difficult for Roll to see his face clearly.

Can't the phantom move? Wait, first of all, this is not Hogwarts, and secondly, there is no smell of sea water here, so it is definitely not Azkaban...

Roll quickly mobilized the common sense of the entire British magic world in his memory. Of course, these common senses came from Rolf, so many secrets were regarded as common sense by him.

So where is this place, it's about to come out - Neumangard???Rol understands that when he comes here, he is already confused.

"Then aren't you Grindelwald?" Roll almost blurted out, because in Rolf's strange memories, there was a large memory about his grandfather.

Unfortunately, these memories are stories about Grindelwald and Dumbledore.

Grindelwald didn't say anything, but continued to support the stairs, and then signaled Roll to walk back to his "room" with him.

Strangely, there was no one along the way in the prison, only a bunch of empty cells.

"Are there no guards here?" Roll asked curiously, but a silence was greeted, and Grindelwald was obviously not ready to pay attention to him.

The most feared thing is that the air suddenly quiet...

In this awkward atmosphere, Grindelwald walked into his cell and then pulled up the curtains like a thief.

The sky in Neumungad was already very dark, and it seemed that rain and thunder were particularly favored by this place. After the curtains were pulled, there was not much light coming in.

But Roll did not inherit Rolf's night vision ability. Fortunately, Grindelwald also knew that it would make people feel insecure in this dark environment, so he turned on the kerosene lamp next to him.

Roll watched Grindelwald's series of sexy operations. Isn't this a true portrayal of... taking off his pants and farting? This is just like the air conditioner with the cover and opening the air conditioner.

However, this also allowed him to see the surrounding situation. The layout of the entire cell was very simple. A broken hard bed had many insect eyes on the wooden part on it, and a mottled table with paint falling off.

.Apart from that, there is almost nothing left.

"It's a bit miserable," Roll muttered in a very objective manner, but there was no expression of sympathy on his face, but he was full of doubts. This generation of Dark Demon King was doing so miserable?

"Introduce yourself." Grindelwald said coldly.

"Rolf Scarmand, thirteen years old," he borrowed Rolf's name very unkindly, after all, they were the same person to outsiders.

Grindelwald asked in surprise: "...Are you a descendant of the Scarmander family?"

Roll hadn't realized that his nominal grandfather's relationship with the person in front of him was not a good deal.

"How did you do the phantom shift?" Grindelwald continued to ask after seeing Roll nod.

"Oh, that's a long story." But before Roll could introduce it in detail, Grindelwald interrupted, "Then let's talk about it short!"

After hearing this, Roll choked, touched his nose, and said embarrassedly: "Simply put, it was when I was experimenting with the phantom movement, and I was inexplicably teleported here."

Anyway, he didn't know how to explain, so he might as well let Grindelwald guess himself.

Sure enough, Grindelwald looked disbelief after hearing this, and then reached out to Roll. He originally wanted to dodge back, but he found that the hand was too fast and he didn't have time to dodge.

After Grindelwald held Roll's head with his hand, his eyes widened like a copper bell, "Is there anyone who can awaken the magic of the phantom's shapeshift? Is there a bloodline of a house-elf in your blood?"

Although Roll didn't know what his bloodline was, he knew that the status of the house elf in the wizarding world was not even as good as a cat and a crocodile, so he had to refute it.

"Why are you still cursing?" But before Roll could continue to say anything, Grindelwald said tiredly and vicissitudes: "Forget it, no matter what, I hope you can pack up your own things and where did you come from,

Where to go back."

Roll looked at the Dark Lord, who had no energy at all, and breathed a sigh of relief, and said, "Okay, Mr. Grindelwald, goodbye, I will take good care of you to Grandpa and Professor Dumbledore for you!

”

Then Roll was no longer found in the entire cell. Grindelwald breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the original tattered bed again.

At the end of November, Neumungard was already winter. From the window, a thin layer of first snow hangs on the withered grass leaves, and a hillside looked mottled and desolate.

The inside of the cell was even dark and damp, and the feeling of cold air wrapped in moisture invading the flesh and bones was not good.

Grindelwald is a powerful wizard, and there is no doubt that it is. Powerful means he will have to live for a long time, but he is lonely and thinks it is really not good.

He lost his wand, his army, and he also lost his proud handsome face, becoming an old prisoner, and even shivered in the cold due to insufficient warmth.

Why don’t a person as proud as him choose to die?

Grindelwald once asked himself this question, but he couldn't answer it himself, but he knew that he didn't have the idea of ​​dying yet. He might have a little memory of the world. What should he remember? He couldn't answer it either.

The deserted Neumangard had nothing, and he was really bored here. His eyes swept across the place where the strange boy disappeared just now, and he saw a crystal panel left there.

There is also a piece of paper on it, which says: Try to enter your magic to start the owl phone, and then follow the guidance, and someone will help you get familiar with it.