Sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow across the room, and a gentle breeze swayed the curtains softly. It was a perfect morning.
Since leaving, he had never slept this deeply.
But life with his former master had been brutal. Fiennes demanded constant work, often bursting in at dawn to shout, "Sleep is for the dead! You can rest when you're gone!"
Lying in bed then meant a curse was coming—painful enough to make anyone jump, even if it wasn't the Dark Arts.
Now, Anton rolled over, soaking in the warmth, ready to drift off again.
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.
Hovering barely an inch away, staring right down at him, was the pale, translucent face of Fiennes.
"AAAAHHHH!!"
Anton shrieked, scrambling backward in blind panic until his back slammed hard against the wooden headboard. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs.
"I'll be damned..." he gasped, staring in utter disbelief.
"How dare you!" Fiennes shrieked, his voice shrill with rage. "Is that any way to address your Master?"
He lunged furiously, hands outstretched, but passed straight through Anton as if he were thin air.
A wave of freezing cold washed over Anton, making him shiver violently, like he'd just swallowed a bucket of ice.
"You foolish boy! You imbecile!" Fiennes raged on.
Anton swallowed hard, secretly wishing the old man was still alive just so he could stab him with a knife and finish the job properly.
Just then, the door creaked softly. Old Tom was coming in with breakfast.
The kind old man was always so thoughtful, trying his utmost not to disturb him. He pushed the door with exaggerated care to stop it from creaking, then set down hot milk and bread—always timing it perfectly so everything was just right when Anton woke up.
Old Tom froze, staring wide-eyed at the floating figure.
"First a bleedin' werewolf, now a bloomin' ghost!" he gasped, his toothless mouth agape. "No wonder ya ain't scared o' the dark! Ya practically live with 'em!"
Anton managed a stiff, awkward smile in reply.
Tom left soon after, but Fiennes stayed.
He nagged and lectured while Anton brushed his teeth, hovered right beside him when he used the toilet, and stared silently as he ate his breakfast.
Anton felt like he was slowly losing his mind.
He sighed, looking directly at the spirit. "Maybe... you could start a brand new life here. "
Fiennes blinked, seemingly stunned. "A new life?"
Anton's eyes lit up.
Hope!
This guy could actually understand him!
"Yes!" His energy surged. "Think about it. When you were alive, you hid like a rat in a gutter, skulking in the shadows, terrified to speak to anyone, always expecting danger."
"You built a wall around your heart, cutting yourself off from the world. You existed, but you weren't truly living. Nobody knew you, nobody remembered you."
"People feared you, and you feared them."
"But now..." His voice rose, filled with fervor. "Even though you are gone, you have finally earned the freedom to truly live!"
"You can walk the streets openly!" He pointed toward the busy world outside.
"March right down the center! Stand tall among the crowd, head held high! No more fear! Nothing can stop you now!"
"The whole world is yours to explore. You can see everything you were too afraid to experience before."
His eyes glistened, his arms spreading wide as if to embrace the horizon.
"Watch the sunrise from the highest peaks! Feel the wind over the open seas! Sit right in the middle of a roaring Quidditch stadium and cheer as loud as you want!"
"You..."
"I..." Fiennes stared, a look of wonder and longing slowly spreading across his pale face. He seemed truly moved.
Without another word, he turned and drifted forward, passing straight through the solid wall of the inn—and was gone.
"Finally, he's gone." Anton took a satisfying bite of his bread. "Let everyone else go to hell for all I care."
After finishing his meal, he leaned back comfortably on the bed and opened the three books he had bought.
He started with "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1," which covered the basics in detail.
Softening, Cutting, Unlocking, Levitation, Locking, Repairing, Repelling, Lumos, Incendio...
Every spell was incredibly useful. Take the Unlocking Charm, for example—just a few words, and even complex locks would open instantly.
Now that he knew this, Anton could practically walk into any Muggle bank and walk out rich, living a life of luxury.
As long as the Aurors didn't catch him, of course.
Then there was the Levitation Spell. It was almost like cheating—wave your wand, and no matter how heavy the object, it would float effortlessly in the air.
Yet the book was surprisingly shallow. It listed spells and descriptions but offered no real guidance—nothing about wand movements, voice, or the intent needed to make magic work.
Finishing the book left him feeling hollow. He seemed to understand, yet learned nothing concrete at all. It was like reading a research paper without the data to back it up.
The other two were just as bad. "Magical Theory" was dry philosophy with no actual spells, and "The Dark Forces," was laughably simple compared to what he had already experienced.
Nine Galleons wasted. The frustration only fueled his determination: he had to get into Hogwarts. He needed real guidance.
He almost hurled the useless books into the bin, but reluctantly stuffed them back into his bag. Money was hard to come by, and if he was going to school later, he'd need them anyway.
Instead, he pulled out "The Apprenticeship of the Great Alex Fiennes."
Despite being filled with dangerous Dark Arts, at least the old man had written it properly—every detail, every key point, was documented clearly.
Anton devoured the pages eagerly. Beyond the spells, it was also a personal journal, filled with Fiennes's own history.
"Haha," Anton couldn't help but laugh as he read about Fiennes complaining about his own master. "So you went through hell too, you old rascal!"
It seemed Fiennes's master had been just as terrible. He felt a strange, twisted sense of kinship.
"You idiot! Are you actually reading my journal?!"
The roar exploded right next to his ear, making him jump out of his skin.
"How dare you!" he screamed, lunging forward.
A freezing chill washed over Anton. He stared at the furious spirit, utterly stunned.
"I thought you left... Oh my god!"