[Comprehensive British and American] Painting ghosts

London, England.

Voldemort walked on the street with only a few people, walking slowly along the Thames River.

This world is very similar to his original world in terms of geography and countries in general, but only Muggles.

He paid a considerable price and disrupted the time and space of all planes. He sensed the position of the Dark Mark at the moment when a gap appeared in time and space. The world he came to was a world completely ruled by Muggles and no wizards existed. world.He does not belong to this world, he can even feel that this world is trying to drive him out every moment, the pressure of being rejected by the whole plane is very terrifying, if it is not because his strength is already strong enough, I am afraid he has already been Crushed to pieces.

It doesn't matter if he is not recognized by this world, as long as there is that person in this world.

His eyes drifted to the distance, and he could feel the existence of that person, just on the other side of the earth.

He obviously could transfer to his side in an instant, but he hesitated.

Maybe it's because I haven't thought about what to say when we meet again.

Or... He was afraid of the moment he saw the other party, seeing his disgusted and disappointed eyes.He was afraid that he would lose control when he saw such eyes. He didn't know what the consequences would be if he lost control again, but he couldn't afford anything now.

He straightened his clothes, which had been tossed about by the wind from the Atlantic.He wasn't quite used to Muggle clothes yet, but he didn't want to stand out in the Muggle world in wizard robes either.

Even so, his unique temperament still attracted the attention of many people.

That kind of temperament that can't be concealed even if the head is half down, the collar covers the chin, and the face can't be seen clearly.He was like a light-absorbing vortex in the crowd, dark and cold, with an obviously restrained posture, but unprovoked sharpness, like the deep winter wind, piercing to the point of trembling.

Trembling, but also stunning, with a destructive elegance and fatal attraction.

Voldemort ignored the gazes of the people around him, and looked up at the large electronic screen on the facade of a building not far away, which was showing the latest international news.

The Muggle technology in this world seems to be more advanced than his world, and even he has to admit that Muggles are still good at this. Even without magic, their survival is not difficult.

"The latest news is that the discussion on whether people with supernatural abilities need to be supervised has become increasingly fierce. The relevant parties in our country have expressed their attitude: people with supernatural abilities have the obligation to accept registration and obey management. Their unregulated crime rate has increased significantly, and a considerable part People with supernatural abilities show extreme contempt for the law..."

Voldemort looked at the screen expressionlessly, the red light in his eyes was beating.

No matter which world we are in, human beings always reject aliens, and try to restrict aliens with various contracts that are laws in name but unequal terms in fact.

Just like the wizarding world in the United States many years ago, even the wizards themselves would limit themselves.

He always felt that it was a kind of slavishness.

He looked away from the monitor, his eyes regained his composure.He won't take care of these things anymore, what happens in this world has nothing to do with him.

……

Voldemort's figure disappeared at the end of the alley. At the same moment, a person in black walked out of a deserted street corner in New York, where the space was slightly distorted.

He walked on the streets of New York, and he could feel that person was very close to him, and he could even reach his side in an instant.

It was dusk in New York at the moment, which happened to be the time to get off work. Pedestrians were crowded, vehicles were blocked, and the sky was darkening. It was the time when the city was about to wake up at night.

He picked up a newspaper from the newsstand by the side of the road, and sat on a bench by the side of the road to read it.

When he first came to this world, he still had to focus on understanding the world.

The newspaper still dominated the headlines of the so-called supervising agreement for people with superpowers. He jumped over it without the slightest interest, and looked at other sections.His eyes were quickly attracted by another report——

"Famous painters are also mutants, how many unknown dangers are hidden around us".

"Mutants..." Voldemort read softly, and continued reading along the article.

It took a long time before he closed the newspaper and put it back in the newsstand.

The sky had completely darkened, and he was walking in the shadow of the city's neon lights, completely blending with the darkness.

Only the occasional flashes of scarlet in his eyes make him recognizable in the dark.

He was walking in the crowded streets of Manhattan, turning around a street corner, looking through the night, and looking along the streets of Bleecker Street to the place where the incident was mentioned in the newspaper.

His footsteps were a little heavy, and he walked slowly to the door of 177A Bleecker Street, which had been blocked by the isolation line, and vehicles were not allowed to pass through.It can be clearly seen what a tragic battle this ruin that is incompatible with Manhattan has gone through.

The separation line did not stop Voldemort at all, and he crossed the line and entered the scene.The lights in this block were very dim because the lines were damaged and had not been repaired in time. He drew out his yew wand, and the shining starlight shone on the tip of the wand, illuminating the whole ruins.

He looked at the ruins quietly, frowning slightly.

In his memory, the professor who has been with him for so many years is not a person who likes to destroy.On the contrary, although his personality is sometimes a little indifferent, he is very gentle, and he will never do anything that hurts others maliciously.If not, the relationship between them would not have fallen to what it is now.

What happened to him in this world?

"Hey, what are you doing? This place is blocked, no one is allowed in!" Suddenly a voice shouted not far away.This is particularly abrupt on the quiet street.

Voldemort looked in the direction of the sound. A man in a suit stood not far away and looked at him. After noticing that he was still holding a glowing wand in his hand, the other party suddenly shrank his pupils and quickly pulled out the wand. A walkie-talkie:

"This is B2, it seems to be found..."

He had no chance to say the following words, and the walkie-talkie fell into Voldemort's hands in the next second.He looked at the agent in the suit from a distance, expressionless, and with a slight force on his pale, slender and bony hands, the walkie-talkie was crushed into a piece of scrap metal, and tiny electric arcs jumped on the unrecognizable walkie-talkie.

The agent turned pale.He and a team of his were sent here to guard the scene, just to prevent it from being destroyed by mutants or other monsters, but he didn't think it was a job worth stressing, but he didn't expect the danger to come so suddenly.

But he has also undergone rigorous training, and he took out the gun from behind almost in the next second, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Then he heard a sound that made him feel extremely at ease, the sound of bullets embedded in flesh and blood.

hit!

Voldemort, who was hit by the bullet, staggered back slightly, looking at his chest in surprise.

There was a slight numbness in the chest at first, and the pain was long overdue, and blood flowed out from the wound quickly.

The agent took a deep breath and walked towards Voldemort, holding the gun high in his hand and not putting it down.

Voldemort looked up at the gun in the agent's hand.It's not that he hasn't seen Muggle guns, but there doesn't seem to be any like this one in his memory.

In this world, it is not unreasonable for Muggles to maintain their dominant position.

He stretched out his hand and stroked his chest lightly, and the bullet fell out of his body automatically, and made a crisp collision sound when it landed on the ground.

Heal as ever.

A spell that couldn't be simpler, let Voldemort, who was already powerful enough to cross planes, cast it, and its power was enough to pull a dying person back from hell, not to mention just a small gunshot wound.

The agent looked at the bullet that fell on the ground. The light was dim, but he was experienced enough to recognize at a glance that it was the same type of bullet that was fired from his gun just now.

Before he had time to think about it, the second shot came one after another, but this time he never heard the voice that could make him feel at ease.

He only saw a group of black shadows swaying in the opponent's position, as if a small cloud of black mist had exploded, darker than the night in the night, and when it condensed again, it had moved in front of him.

Then he saw a pair of lifeless, cold and pale hands pinching his throat, the pressure from those hands made him unable to control himself, and slowly fell to his knees on the ground.He raised his head and looked into the other person's eyes, which seemed to hide a bottomless dark universe, sucking his soul in with just one glance.

He opened his brain without any resistance, allowing the other party to watch everything he knew in his mind.

The force that stirred his thoughts was so overbearing and fierce that it almost broke his nerves.

When he felt that he was about to die, the other party let him go, allowing him to fall to the ground after losing the support of those cold hands.

The agent raised his head and saw that the other party was holding a small wooden stick in his hand. He lowered his head to look at him who was prostrate on the ground, humble as an ant, with a cold desolation in his eyes.

"Everything is forgotten."

……

He finally had all the answers he wanted in a Muggle brain.

For example... He knew that Shen Yanzhou's residence was in Los Angeles, and it had been blocked. Countless people including the FBI and CIA were monitoring it, waiting for an opportunity to catch him.

But none of them knew that Shen Yanzhou's real location was Queens, New York, not far from their base.

On the outskirts of Los Angeles, inside Shen Yanzhou's residence, the space suddenly distorted slightly, and Voldemort's figure appeared in the living room.

There is a four-hour time difference between Los Angeles and New York. It is already dark in New York, but it is still dusk in Los Angeles at this time.The afterglow of the setting sun spills in from the window, shines through the translucent curtains into the living room, and coats the whole living room with golden edges.

The furnishings in the living room were extremely simple, without any extra decorations, it was so cold that it was not popular, and this ray of sunlight was the only source of warmth.

Voldemort looked at the setting sun. Even at dusk, the California sun was still very dazzling. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and his dark eyes were illuminated with a golden luster.

He withdrew his gaze and walked towards the second floor.

Pushing open the door, a layer of fine dust fell down, clearly visible under the sunlight.

The second floor has also been almost emptied. After Shen Yanzhou's accident, everything related to his identity information in his house was removed.There are only some scattered painting tools and scrolls left on the entire second floor, as well as surveillance cameras hanging from the ceiling.

Voldemort walked to the table, reached for a paintbrush, and wiped away the light layer of dust on it.

He could clearly feel that the surroundings of the house had been blocked by three floors inside and three floors outside. Obviously, these Muggles also noticed that someone had broken into this house.

Voldemort pocketed his paintbrush and drew his wand.

He walked to the window and watched the sunset slowly, and the last trace of warmth disappeared with the night. The whole room was completely dark, and only the sound of his own steady breathing remained silent.

He lowered his eyes to cover up the cruel blood that gleamed in them.

Perhaps, it's time for him to help the professor clean the room.