Hogwarts: Bourne Returns from Warhammer

(Written earlier, this is a side story. It is mainly a setting story of the Rookwood family after the storyline of "Hogwarts Legacy". The Rookwood here is August Lu. Lukewood's father. Mainly explains why August Lukewood went to Italy to cooperate with Don Marlowe after escaping from Azkaban.

Brother Meng can subscribe according to personal preferences. )

It was Christmas 1943, not long after Sicily was annexed to the Kingdom of Italy, and people here could only survive by trading on the black market.

The strict food rationing system during the war still continued, and farmers had to sell their agricultural products to the granaries opened by the "Roman Governor" at set prices in exchange for almost worthless paper currency.

Originally, those "Romans" should have sold all this food at low prices, or distributed it to every household as fairly as possible.

With the implementation of this system, it stands to reason that every family in Sicily should receive enough food to sustain life, as well as other non-staple food products such as milk, cheese, and sausages.

But in fact, Sicilian farmers will try to hide as much food as possible. This is their wisdom formed since ancient times.

After all, you can basically tell by looking at history books who has set the rules in this land since ancient times.

Greeks, Arabs, Normans, Spanish, French (Savoy, Bourbon), Austrians, Romans...

There are almost no locals anyway.

Of course, there are no absolutes.

Because all the things that Sicilian farmers handed over to the warehouse of the "Roman Governor" were sold on the black market at a higher price by some "friends among friends" bosses and local people who became mayors with their support.

A place of water and soil can nourish a person, and a place of water and soil can also shape a person.

Under the general environment, many smugglers were naturally born between rural areas and rural areas, and between rural areas and cities in Sicily.

Besides this status that is both shameless and dangerous, most of these people are just honest farmers.

Compared with those gang members who have enough meat, eggs and milk to have broad chests, muscular arms and legs, these farmers and smugglers look like skinny men.

When doing business, they always like to use mules and donkeys to pull carts, and cover the carts with a layer of hemp straw or bamboo to pretend to be merchants delivering feed to their livestock. These people will try their best to avoid the main roads with checkpoints, and even if they go far away, they will take the trouble to find some small roads opened in the mountains to deliver goods.

They had to do it.

Because they broke two laws.

One was the authorities' laws against black market trading, which would have put them in jail by those "Romans". Without a source of income, their parents and children may have to suffer from hunger.

Even more serious was another law they violated, a unique Sicilian law that had never been recognized by the Roman authorities.

"Friends among Friends" will severely crack down on all unstable factors that undermine the prosperity of the black market.

Moreover, the high profits brought by black market transactions also made those people abandon the previous low-cost traditional method of "mailing bullets".

Now, they will choose another more costly punishment method - delivering goods to the door in person - sending someone to break into the farmer's smuggler's house with a gun with a sawed-off barrel, and shoot out the bullet directly. .

"We have no choice."

Vescovo said helplessly to his eldest son, who had been complaining for a long time.

Because they had to deliver goods up the mountain, the road was very difficult and had a certain slope. Therefore, the Vescovos could no longer ride in the mule cart and had to get off and walk. Vescovo pulled the mule's bridle in front, while his eldest son pushed hard behind the cart.

"We are not like those 'dons' who easily get special passes issued by the Yankees and have money to buy trucks and the fuel they need."

Perhaps it really corresponds to his name (the Italian surname Vescovo is the English surname Bishop, which means bishop). Compared with many of his neighbors who are not good at talking, Vescovo is indeed better at persuading others.

"After we finish this job, we can use the money to buy four large hams and two baskets of sausages, and your sister's wedding banquet will be a decent one. If we do this more times in the future, young man, you will be able to find a wife. . If you think about these more, you won’t feel tired anymore.”

"Yes, father," replied little Vescovo through gritted teeth, stooping to push the cart like a Rosca hound with clenched teeth.

However, he did listen to his father's words and used all his strength to help the mule push the cart over a short section of the steepest mountain road.

They took a mountain path, avoiding major roads and villages, but occasionally they could see some ancient Greek cisterns, broken statues still spewing water from their mouths, and another one that was used to resist invasion hundreds of years ago. Norman castle.

Climbing halfway up the mountain, Vescovo decided to rest for a while before rushing on. He took out two hand-rolled cigarettes, gave one to his eldest son, and took one himself.

They shouldn't be like this. Because it was night, the "Romans" patrolling down the mountain might spot the flames of cigarette butts. However, both Vescovo and Vescovo tacitly did not mention this issue.

Leaning against a large stone on the side of the road, all that could be heard was the buzzing sound of countless insects flying close to the ground. It's the sound they make by vibrating their wings and legs, like the sound of sawing wood in the distance.

"Very good, like the noise that comes from hard work - just like Sicilian people, they have to work hard for their family and life every day - at least, it is better than the noise that only makes like a frog..."

Suddenly Vescovo felt a flash of light in his left eye, as if someone had struck a match. He suddenly woke up from his random thoughts, grabbed the reins of the mule, and signaled to his son not to be nervous.

But it’s impossible not to be nervous.

From the bushes thirty yards away three strangers emerged.

Vescovo saw their black military caps and black uniforms with white trim.

He felt so stupid, and a feeling of despair and shame came over him: they had been caught.

Three men walked toward them with guns in hand, gradually spreading out as they marched. Two of them were very young, with rosy complexions, and their hard-brimmed military hats were tilted on the backs of their heads, looking very funny. They pointed the muzzles of their submachine pistols at this side, looking very serious and a little smug.

The soldier in the center is older and holds the rifle the Yankees issued him. His face was pitted and had several scars. The brim of his hat was pulled down over his eyes, he wore sergeant armbands on his sleeves, and he had a cheroot dangling from his mouth.

The flash Vescovo had just seen was indeed the light produced by a match lighting a cigarette. The noncommissioned officer pointed his gun at the younger Vescovo's chest, with a ferocious smile on his face. When old Vescovo saw this hideous smile, his despair immediately turned into anger.

"Take out your IDs," the sergeant said. Although his accent sounded like a Sicilian, it was obviously the accent of people from the city.

As he spoke, two other soldiers had already lifted the camouflage on the mule cart and confirmed that the cart was filled with goodies such as cheese and ham.