"Conversation? Obviously, your definition of "offense" seems to be different from normal people-"
The old Armenian wizard rolled his eyelids, glanced at the black muzzles, and spoke to Lockhart in a low voice.
"Don't act rashly - the hollow iron pipes they have in their hands are quite dangerous. Just think of it as a weakened version of Avada's Kedavra. Those things may not kill you in an instant, but at most they will cost you more."
It only takes a few seconds, and the way to die is even more painful..."
Unlike young wizards who were born and raised in peaceful times, the old Hash is quite aware of the threat of those Muggle weapons.
This is not only because he lived long enough, but more importantly, he lived in Armenia - one of the many countries that joined the former Soviet Union - and personally experienced the Second World War in the non-magical world.
An old guy who has witnessed hell on earth with his own eyes.
Although this land was not directly baptized by German artillery fire, the Armenians still had the highest death rate among the participating countries.
Whether it is phantom movement or other protective magic, it is not that reliable when being shot by bullets.
You know, even a few centuries ago, Muggle crossbows had a chance of hitting wizards at the moment they cast phantom movement, not to mention bullets that are several times faster than arrows: casting phantom in a hail of bullets
Moving is equivalent to giving yourself a different place to die.
Perhaps in an open field, the old Hash holding a wand still had the confidence to deal with dozens of Muggles holding firearms.
However, if the firefight occurs indoors, there is almost no possibility of escape.
And the more deadly thing is...
Old Hash frowned and glanced past the dozens of uninvited guests armed with firearms.
He was very sure that the "Muggle Expelling Curse" he set around the house had not failed, so these "guests" might be more difficult to deal with than the Muggle soldiers he had encountered decades ago - they were people living in the magical world.
, which means that they also understand the wizard's fighting style.
"Put down your wands, gentlemen...thank you."
At the same time, the burly man in the lead spoke, shaking the gun in his hand towards Lockhart who was not far away.
Unlike the old wizard who had obviously lost his will to resist, the blond young wizard did not seem to be aware of his current dangerous situation.
The wand in Lockhart's hand was still pointed steadily at the man who broke into the room first. There was no fear in his eyes, but a look of eager curiosity. In contrast, there was a look on Lockhart's face.
That smile that will never fade away.
As time went by, people could vaguely feel that the air centered around him seemed to become thicker and duller.
"You're ordering a wizard to put down his wand? I'm sorry—"
Lockhart smiled and whispered, pointing his wand at the heart of the burly man.
"At least in my opinion, victory never depends on the number of people. We are not baboons beating each other with sticks and rocks."
"What the hell-"
The burly man was stunned for half a second, carefully observed Lockhart's expression, and couldn't help but cursed at his companion.
"This guy doesn't seem to know firearms?! I've heard people say before that many 'pure wizards' don't even know cars or airplanes. What era did these British wizards live in? Did you hear that? He actually compared us to
Be a baboon with a stick!"
"Lockhart!"
Aghaxiyan whispered, feeling that his right hand holding the wand was sweating.
"Don't anger them, that iron pipe in their hands..."
"I know, I know, AK-47, the full name is Kalashnikov 1947 automatic rifle."
Lockhart said calmly, looking directly at the row of guns pointed at him, recalling the information burned in his mind.
"Designed by Soviet firearms designer Mikhail Kalashnikov, it has reliable loading action and good serviceability; it is solid and durable with low failure rate. It has excellent shooting performance whether under high or low temperature conditions. In Africa
This is a type of automatic rifle that is very popular in the magic world. At such a distance, the automatic rifle in his hand alone is enough to beat the two of us into a hornet's nest, but -"
"That's why we can't put down our wands first, right?"
Lockhart grinned happily, as relaxed as a fan meeting seemed a little out of place at this time.
"Of course, the weapons I have here are not too bad. This is a wand produced by Ollivander's Wand Shop, twelve inches, cherry wood, and the core of the wand is made of the heart nerve of the black dragon of the Hesidian Islands...
Maybe it can't withstand bullets fired from dozens of gun muzzles, but you can guess how large a range of people a wizard can use to bury him with him before he dies."
"If I remember correctly, ten years ago, a dark wizard blew up half a street in less than half a second."
Lockhart spoke in a relaxed tone, but his eyes were still locked on the muzzles of the guns pointed at him.
You must know that his first job when he joined the Destiny Group was the large-scale renovation project of the Hyperion. During the more than four-month mission, Lockhart and the others, in addition to daily confidential corrections, at least
One-third of the time is spent conducting imaginary enemy drills.
The wizard may not be invincible in the hail of bullets, but he definitely has a way to make the enemy pay dozens of times the price.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say-"
The burly man holding an AK47 frowned heavily and interrupted somewhat roughly.
"It's very simple. You should be the one to take the initiative to lay down your weapons, not me and Mr. Aghashyan."
Lockhart blinked his eyes flexibly, looked at the group of uninvited guests with a bright smile, and continued cordially.
"If you really want to have a good conversation, this is a very reasonable decision, isn't it? Even if Mr. Aghashyan and I take the initiative to attack you, with your numerical advantage, we can succeed before we knock everyone down.
Counterattack - On the other hand, if the purpose of your trip is to take our lives, then just do it now. If you are lucky enough, you may be able to survive the aftermath of the curse..."
"So, now you should ask yourself a question..."
"Should I try my luck?"
Lockhart said with a smile, as if he were a professor asking a student a question in class.
"Okay, you win - don't turn off the safety and put down the weapon."
The burly man hesitated for a while, then finally breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed his body and waved around.
"Gilderoy Lockhart is indeed a celebrity in the wizarding world...I now understand why you were awarded the Wizengamot Medal in the first place."
After the momentum relaxed, the leading man seemed to have aged nearly ten years for a moment. Only then did Aghashyan have time to observe the face of this uninvited guest: his eyes looked like he was in his forties, but the forehead
Full of wrinkles, gray hair, and an indescribable haggardness.
Lockhart shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, but still did not put down the wand in his right hand.
"It's just a false name, but to be fair, what is your name...I can't call you 'Hey', right?"
"You can call me Romulus, this is the new name I just thought of."
He took a deep look at Lockhart, then turned to look at the old wizard sitting at the dining table.
"So you should be the real prototype of the protagonist in the book "Wandering with Werewolves"? I'm very sorry, we didn't find your photo in the newspaper, but fortunately, a reporter told us your address -
—Well, in fact, we are half neighbors. So after thinking about it, I simply came over to visit..."
"By the way, you just said that our definition of 'offense' is different from that of 'normal people'?"
"There is actually nothing wrong with this sentence. We are indeed not normal people, because we are all..."
Romulus grinned, revealing teeth that were even whiter than Lockhart's, and even a little scary.