The rhythmic sound of metal collision made Xing Ze open his eyes. He looked around confusedly, and then suddenly reached out and touched his chest.
There was no unexpected blood, no bullet holes, and no severe pain. Didn't he die? No, he was clearly shot three times and fell into the river. Unless a miracle happened, he would not be alive.
Also, where is this? Where the hell am I?
As a private detective who has just experienced life and death, Xing Ze's professionalism and survival instinct allow Xing Ze to wake up his groggy brain as quickly as possible in order to understand the current situation.
When the brain recovered and began to receive and process information from the body, Xing Ze's first feeling was that his whole body was weak, and the second feeling was that his throat was so dry that it was on fire, as if he had fallen into a desert instead of water when he was shot.
He reluctantly leaned up and took out a table knife on the messy dining table with his slightly trembling left hand, and then he began to look around carefully.
Judging from the scenery passing by outside the window and the sound of metal clashing, it was inferred that he was on a train, and he was the only one in the entire small carriage.
There probably won't be any danger. Xing Ze thought to himself. Just as he was about to put down his knife, he was frightened by a sudden sound of a siren.
"Woo-"
After being frightened, Xing Ze realized something was wrong.
Steam train? Although there is not much research on trains, in 2019, there are very few trains that make this kind of whistle sound.
Dear mother, have I drifted down the river to the industrial age?
In order to further confirm his conjecture, Xing Ze used his little energy to search on the chaotic dining table.
Soon he pulled out an English newspaper from under a pile of documents, no, to be precise, it was a moving English newspaper.
"September 1, 1991, Daily Prophet?"
The surprise in his heart made Xing Ze not even aware that he had no difficulty in reading English. You know, he was a real scumbag in English before.
The newspaper headlines shocked him even more - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has started.
A large black and white photo was placed in the center of the page. In the photo stood an amiable old man with a white beard, and behind him was a towering ancient castle.
Harry Potter? The Wizarding World? Xing Ze stared straight at the newspaper as if he had been hit in the head with a hammer.
The excessive amount of information caused his brain to shut down suddenly, but one thing is certain. He died and traveled to the magical world of Harry Potter. He should now be on the magic train heading to Hogwarts.
At this moment, a sudden change occurred, and Xing Ze felt a tingling pain in the palm of his right hand.
He groaned and raised his hand to look, only to see that something seemed to be squirming under the flesh of his palm, and was about to burst out of the flesh at any moment.
The pain became more and more severe, accompanied by a lot of complicated information, which poured into Xing Ze's brain like a tide.
"Ah——" The terrible mental and physical torture made him cry out uncontrollably.
At the moment when he was about to faint, he saw and clearly saw the strange sphere that drilled out of the palm of his hand. That terrifying irregular sphere was the main culprit that killed him in his previous life.
Xing Ze's hoarse throat soon lost the ability to scream, and after that, there was endless darkness.
…
Balk Sara was sitting on the single sofa in the office. This was probably the most comfortable seat on the entire Hogwarts Express.
The comfort brought by the magic sofa cannot be compared with the soft cushions in the carriage, let alone those hardwood seats in the public carriage.
Of course, only the conductor can enjoy this privilege.
Old Balk has been working on this train for more than thirty years, and he regards the train as his second wife.
"There's about half an hour left, maybe I can have a drink." Balk said to himself, changing the position of the pipe in his mouth with his hand.
"Dong dong dong!"
The rapid knock on the door put Balk's mood for a drink away. He sat up from the soft sofa and said in a deep voice: "Come in."
A young man with brown hair walked in hastily from outside the door, "Excuse me, Mr. Balk..." he said breathlessly.
"For Merlin's sake, Bowman, call me conductor." Balk interrupted the young man dissatisfied, "And don't keep chirping, it will make the passengers laugh at us."
"Of course, sir, oh no, conductor." Bowman replied respectfully while patting his chest with his hand.
After catching his breath, the young conductor continued: "Conductor, you have to look outside. The weather is very abnormal. It has started to snow."
"Snowing?" Balk repeated, "Have you drunk too much, Bowman? It's only the end of August, how can it possibly snow."
Although he was doubtful, he never thought that Bowman would lie to him, unless this kid didn't want this good job.
Balk snapped his fingers, and the half-hung curtains in the office immediately rose. In order to have a better view of the situation outside the window, he reluctantly left the comfortable sofa and walked to the window.
Outside the window, the sky became very gloomy, and tiny snowflakes were flying in the strong wind. According to past experience of driving in winter, a terrible snowstorm will come soon.
"How is this possible?"
Surprise and confusion quickly spread on the face of the sixty-five-year-old train conductor. Yes, in more than thirty years of train work, he has indeed seen a lot of bad situations, hurricanes, heavy rains, mudslides, etc., but what happened here
Severe snowstorms in August and September?
Old Balk quickly calmed down and returned to his original appearance, thinking about countermeasures in his mind.
"We'll be at Novi Ravenska Village station in about half an hour, right?"
Bowman flipped over the book in his hand, nodded and replied: "Yes, conductor. To be exact, there are still twenty-four minutes, provided we don't slow down."
Balk took down the pipe and blew out all the smoke in his mouth. The white smoke quickly gathered in front of his eyes, and finally arranged into a series of numbers - 17:22.
"Tell Shovel to slow down the train and change the magic power device to a low-temperature working group. In addition, ask Miss Rebecca and the police officers to inform the passengers that if the wind and snow get worse, we will stop at New Ravenska Village Station.
Stay for a while.
"Ask Dylan to send a telegram to the main station to report the current situation. Oh, also send one to Hogwarts to tell their students that they will be late..."
Bowman wrote down the train conductor's instructions one by one. Just as he was going to inform various units, Balk said again: "By the way, remember to ask the prefects of Hogwarts to keep an eye on those students and don't let them run around."
"Okay, conductor, I will inform them."
After Bowman left, Old Balke let out a long breath. He looked at the increasingly fierce wind and snow outside, and his expression became more solemn: "This damn weather, why does it have to be today?"