A dark and damp cellar, mosses covered the stone walls.
Two chains extended from the cracks in the stone, hanging Anton's small body in mid-air.
He was panting like a broken bellows, his lifeless eyes staring at a small grille ventilation window in the corner. Sunlight scattered from there, and tiny elves jumped in the beam of light.
"Cruciatus!"
The light of the spell flickered in the dim cellar.
"Ugh!" Anton gritted his teeth to prevent himself from crying out in pain, his vision gradually becoming dim and hazy.
How many Cruciatus Curses had he endured?
He couldn't remember, but he knew that he might really be dying this time.
"I don't know if this is the world of Harry Potter, but I may not be able to wait for the Hogwarts owl to bring me the acceptance letter."
The figure in the black hooded wizard robe in the field of vision gradually disappeared into the darkness.
Anton exhaled, his heavy eyelids closed heavily, and his head drooped.
...
When he awoke again, he lost count of how long it had been. He felt a sharp pain where his chains held him, as if they were about to break.
"Haha," Anton laughed. "I'm not dead!"
He had once again survived the old wizard's curses, both large and small.
Two months prior, he had traveled across time to this deviant Britain and become a Dark wizard's apprentice. To be precise, the apprentice he was was actually a test subject, werewolf bait, punching bag, and unpaid servant.
He was the only one of the old wizard's many apprentices to survive.
Anton had taken advantage of the old wizard's drunken sting to escape, running for miles.
Thinking he'd escaped, he was struck by his first Cruciatus Curse. It felt like knives stabbing through his body.
He had embarrassed the traveler, wailing and humbly begging for the old wizard's forgiveness.
The old wizard graciously forgave him and allowed him to wander alone through the dark forest, attempting to lure out the werewolves that loved to attack young wizards.
The effect was very good.
The old wizard got a hairy and strong werewolf.
And Anton became the old wizard's apprentice. An apprentice who would be tortured by a curse if he behaved slightly wrongly.
"Creaky~"
The dilapidated wooden door of the cellar made a harsh sound, and a lot of light poured in. Anton's eyes were immediately stimulated and tears flowed.
The dirty black wizard robe gradually approached, and the big hood covered the face. Only a tall nose bridge could be vaguely seen.
The old wizard stretched out his pale, wrinkled hand.
In his hand was a ten-inch maroon wand.
He waved it gently.
The buckle at the end of the chain unfastened itself, and with a snap, Anton fell to the ground.
The old wizard looked down at him and let out a hoarse, raspy chuckle. "If a young wizard experiences a magical outburst without learning spells and managing them with a wand, death is imminent."
"You're not even eleven yet, and the magic within you has already reached a boiling point."
Anton knew it, and he'd become an Obscurus. While he hadn't read the Harry Potter novels or movies, he'd read a lot of online fiction.
However, he'd long since passed the initial feeling of omnipotence that had plagued him when he first traveled through time. He now rubbed his wrist silently.
"You're the most talented of all my apprentices. Be obedient, and I'll teach you spells."
Anton's heart stirred, and he quickly climbed to his feet, feigning excitement. "I... I..."
"Teacher, I was wrong."
The old wizard was clearly pleased with his performance. "Go cook, and don't accidentally put those brightly colored mushrooms in there again."
Anton's tone grew increasingly respectful. "It won't happen again."
"Yes."
The old wizard drifted away.
Anton squinted at the ground, his lips curled slightly.
He didn't know how powerful this old wizard was in the Harry Potter world, but he was definitely broke. Sometimes, the materials he'd painstakingly amassed were traded for experimental materials.
So, did that mean the old wizard only had one wand?
What if he broke it while teaching? Would he be facing just an ordinary old man?
This was an opportunity!
But he had to be extremely careful.
Anton's addition of poisonous mushrooms to the noodles must have alerted the old wizard. "
Take your time," Anton sighed. He had plenty of patience. He struggled up the stone cellar steps and opened the door. Sunlight pierced the forest mist, illuminating everything. He made his way step by step to the kitchen in the corner of the walled courtyard. The cloth bag of wheat flour sat on the corner of the stove, shrunken and showing that there wasn't much left. The mutton fat in the clay pot was only a drop, and even the salt was only a handful.
"This poor fellow!"
Anton complained again.
Last time, the old wizard, tired of his oil-splashed noodles and steamed buns, threw a fit. Dejected, Anton ran off to the forest to pick mushrooms to fuel him.
Yes, fuel.
A small, dreamy-looking cluster of mushrooms.
Anton recognized them because he'd read about them while watching short videos. Amanita muscaria: eating them only gives you a mild diarrhea that resolves the next day.
On the third day, you're dead!
There's no cure.
There's a song that goes, "Red umbrellas, white stems, eat them and lie flat. Lie flat, bury the mountain."
Anton longed to bury the old wizard in the forest himself.
Unfortunately, no matter how naturally he acted, the old wizard was incredibly alert to the danger.
"I don't know, I don't understand, I'm just a child." Despite Anton's best efforts to explain, the old wizard still cast several Cruciatus Curses on him.
He didn't know why the old wizard suddenly wanted to teach him a spell, but he never hesitated to treat the dark wizard with the utmost malice. He expertly kneaded the dough, started the fire, and poured the oil.
Anton first drank a large bowl of noodles, then carried the remaining small bowl to the hut.
If he didn't eat in advance, the old wizard would definitely not give him time to eat.
"Teacher, it's time to eat."
The old wizard nodded, looking up from the pile of parchment. Without his hood, his white hair and beard were particularly striking.
His wrinkled face was sunken, his pale blue eyes looking deep.
He slowly turned his head to glance at the oil-splashed noodles. After a moment's silence, he walked over and picked up the soup spoon.
"Go clean up, we'll go to Knockturn Alley later."
Knockturn Alley!
Anton's eyes widened. Now he was finally sure. This was Harry Potter's world!
He just didn't know what year it was.
Since he traveled here, he had been wandering with this old wizard, always through the deserted countryside.
Sometimes, when he encountered gatherings of strange people, he didn't dare say a word to anyone. "
It has to be Harry Potter's time!" he prayed silently.
It wasn't that he liked Harry Potter, but at that time, the first generation of great evil was imprisoned, and the second generation was on the run. If he could find a way to attend Hogwarts, he could have a relatively stable life.
He has had enough of this life where he could be killed at any time.