Chapter 01: Chapter 1: , Orphan in the Mist

The waves of the Thames slapped against the rocks, rolling up layers of spray.

The sky was mottled in the gloomy gray fog, and in the distance, the towering Big Ben stood tall in the thick industrial smoke, no different from fifty years later.

In 1938, the Wu's Orphanage in London.

This is a square, gloomy and old-fashioned building.

The origin of the orphanage is untestable. Some people say it is to help the children of soldiers who died in World War I. Some people say it is the place where the Black Death prisoners were held in the medieval church. The divergent origins only show one thing.

It's broken here.

Dense wires are entwined in the sky, and houses are stacked on the gray stone ground in a mess, with no sense of beauty at all.

A big iron gate completely isolates this place from the busy street outside, the ground is filled with foul white smoke, the rusty manhole cover is gurgling out with water vapor, and even rainwater will jam in front of the sewer.

Room in the basement of the orphanage.

A little boy closed his eyes tightly and seemed to be sleeping.

He was only about eleven years old, with short black hair, pale skin, and a somewhat mixed-race face that was pretty delicate, but his bruised forehead completely destroyed his appearance.

He lay on the bed, twitching from time to time, as if suffering great pain.

Boom boom.

Outside the door, there was a polite knock on the door, and the boy did not wake up.

after awhile.

Boom boom boom! !

The knock on the door was louder.

...

Hoffa woke up from the nightmare, he suddenly got up and stroked his head and his crotch. He breathed a sigh of relief after discovering that there were no missing parts.

I'm still alive.

Sniffing his nose, he smelled a sour, musty smell.

In front of him was not a scene of the explosion of the cinema, but a dirty and gloomy room.

Hoffa looked at his palm in shock, pale and thin.

Suddenly, a sharp pain surged from his forehead. He rolled his eyes and fell straight down again, dimly, he seemed a little anxious to hear the knock on the door outside.

...

I don't know how long it took before Hoffa slowly eased from the pain.

There is a part of his mind that does not belong to him at all.

He is still called Hoffa, but he is no longer the Hoffa on earth. The Hoffa on Earth is an ordinary student of Earth China, a lonely family. No house, no car, no money, my only hobby is to save money to buy some books, watch movies and so on.

But while watching an IMAX movie, the theater suddenly exploded, and he came to this ghost place.

Now his full name is Hoffa Bach.

He is a child who grew up in an ordinary orphanage.

Some surviving memories told him that the original owner of this body was tricked into a cave by the sea during a picnic organized by the orphanage, fell down a cliff, and fell into the cold water. After being carried back to the orphanage, he was dying, and this allowed Hoffa to take advantage of it.

All this child remembers is the sewage-filled streets of London. Apart from this, he never went anywhere else. I don’t know what phone and computer are, and I don’t know the internet. He has only seen classic cars with black smoke on the street, and black umbrellas everywhere...

Hoffa thought hard, trying to find some useful information from the broken memory.

Shaking his head, some scattered memory fragments surged up again.

The father of this life was a native Chinese, a Chinese who escaped the war and came to Europe, but died in a foreign land during the First World War.

The Bach surname behind his name is probably related to a foreign mother.

It's just that Hoffa didn't have any memories of his mother at all.

...

"The orphan... actually passed through!"

Hoffa rubbed his head and exhaled a foul breath. He doesn't care about crossing, after all, he has nothing to worry about in the previous life, but this starting template is a little too inferior.

He looked at his surroundings more closely.

A dirty bed, a broken wooden table, and faded soldier posters on the wall.

There is also a British short blue cat hanging from the ceiling.

That's right, the cat hanged from the ceiling stiffly, miserably.

The cat's name came to Hoffa's mind.

Addo.

He is the best friend of his own body in the previous life.

An inexplicable irritation appeared in his heart, and Hoffa developed a mood of extreme disgust. Who is it? To hang an innocent poor cat here, it is better to hang it in front of his master!

Before he had time to look up the culprit from his memory.

.....

There were soft knocks and the sound of keys opening the door.

Click!

Suddenly, the closed door bounced open, like someone kicked it hard.

Hoffa took a step back in fright.

Two people stood outside, a man and a woman.

He was very familiar with women, and Hoffa recalled her identity the moment she saw her.

It's Mrs. Cole.

The administrator of the Wu's Orphanage, a skinny, always a little anxious woman.

And beside her stood a very unexpected visitor.

This was an odd old gentleman, Hoffa could only think so. Because this person's dress is incompatible with the environment here. He has blue eyes and a long nose, which seems to be broken. He has a long auburn beard and long hair neatly tied up, dressed in an elegant velvet suit, holding a cane and a top hat in his hand.

Hoffa had no doubt that the clothes were made by Savile Street, but it was not the attire of the old gentleman that surprised him.

It was his beard and hair, he always thought this man looked a little familiar.

"Tom, someone came to see you..."

The scrawny Mrs. Cole said casually, but then she jumped up like a cat whose tail was trampled on.

"Wait a minute, why are you? Hoffa! Did he steal your room?"

Hoffa was still wondering who the familiar old man in front of him was, and he didn't react to Mrs. Cole's words for a long time.

The old man had walked into the room, looked around, and sighed in front of the hanged cat. Standing in front of Hoffa again, his long nose and dark blue eyes looked at Hoffa calmly.

Then he stretched out his long fingers and gently stroked the bruise on Hoffa's skull.

"poor child……."

There was a feeling of healing from the wound on his forehead, and a flash of lightning flashed through Hoffa's mind, and he looked at the door plate on the room inconceivably.

It says in crooked English:

【Tom Marvolo Riddle】

I rely on! Huh... Harry Potter's world?

I am Voldemort! ?

Hoffa's brain was a little confused for a while, but soon he found that he was thinking too much.

He was Hoffa, just staying in Voldemort's room, as for the reason, he knew from memory immediately.

This is an orphanage. In his previous life, he was a well-behaved child. He was very much loved by the orphanage administrator. His room was on the first floor and could be exposed to sunlight. And Tom’s room is in the basement.

Tom Riddle, the young Voldemort, coveted his room, so he tricked him into the cave, and after insulting him to no avail, he pushed Hoffa down the cliff.

It was too late to express too much emotion about his predecessor's tragic experience, worldview, age, story... all kinds of complicated information flooded his brain, Hoffa's eyes widened.

The old man helped Hoffa heal the wound a little, so he turned to look at Mrs. Cole and sighed, "Take me to see Tom."

Mrs. Cole nodded, preparing to take him away.

The two walked to the door, and Hoffa finally reacted. He pointed to the back of the old man and almost blurted out.

"Deng... Deng... Deng is not good..."

The auburn bearded Dumbledore turned around in surprise, his head wrinkled several times, and his blue eyes widened.

The air is a bit quiet.

Hoffa quickly covered his mouth, **** it! I'm still not careful enough. He didn't control his mouth in shock.

You know, the other party is the world's top wizard, and there are a hundred ways to expose yourself to secrets. Veritaserum, heart-catching curse... Although he thought Dumbledore would probably disdain those methods, it's always right to be careful.

If he was found to have come here, God knows what this mysterious magical world will do with him.

But Dumbledore didn't intend to let Hoffa go. He asked softly, "Have we met?"

Hoffa covered his mouth and turned his head into a rattle.

"Then how do you know my name?"

With that, Dumbledore took a step forward.

Hoffa took a step back.

Dumbledore was dumb. He turned his head politely and said to Mrs. Cole: "Wait a minute, I want to talk to this kid alone."