The journey ends here, and what follows is an unknown adventure.
Anton licked the corners of his dry mouth. Since crossing over, he has never had a smooth day. He often walks on the edge of life and death, which has long made him have a new understanding.
If you want to survive, then don't take life and death lightly.
He opened the suitcase and carried the unconscious Lupin out. His left hand tightly grasped the wand in the sleeve of the wide wizard robe.
He knocked on the door gently.
Dongdongdong.
Knocking on the door of a dangerous intelligent creature, Anton felt his heart beating with the sound of the knock.
Not too long, steady and clean footsteps approached, the sound of opening the bolt was accompanied by the sound of the chain bouncing, and the door slowly opened.
There was no old witch, no black wizard with pus-covered face, or goblin with weird and scary appearance.
A girl standing very straight, uh, or a little girl.
Her raven hair was meticulously styled, her deep emerald eyes filled with indifference. Her slender hands draped over her abdomen, her shoulders accentuated by the dark green silk dress, giving her a dignified look.
Delicate and refined, she resembled a proud peacock.
Anton raised an eyebrow. This girl looked exceptionally cultured, a touch like a medieval aristocrat. Could she be from one of those legendary pure-blood families?
Old wizards always spoke of these pure-blood families as having an air of antiquity and decay, but Anton suspected this wandering wizard was simply jealous of these noble, fortunately born nobles.
Anton swallowed and glanced down at the paper again. Was this a goblin?
If he remembered correctly, goblins in the wizarding world were a species, not the Muggle term for "elf."
"Mr. Pedro isn't here. You can wait a moment." The little girl appeared polite, yet with a faint aloofness, as if the person before her or what they looked like was of no concern.
Anton nodded. "Thank you. Can I go in and wait?"
The little girl gently opened the door and stood sideways, her body so straight that even her head seemed held high. "My name is Anna Rosier."
Rosier!
A pure-blood family indeed. Anton instantly realized that this family was a classic villain in the Harry Potter series. Whether it was the first generation of the Great Evil Grindelwald or the second generation of Voldemort, the Rosier family was always at his side.
Anton became increasingly cautious and nodded. "My name is Anton."
Anna Rosier stared at him intently, then gracefully turned and left.
Clearly, etiquette was paramount in the eyes of these decadent aristocrats. The little girl gave her full name, but Anton refused to say it.
In Europe, many polysyllabic names have a conventional abbreviation. Anton, when not being particular, can also be short for Anthony.
It's suitable for daily address, but not for introductions.
Anton smiled faintly and ignored her.
His name was Anton, his last name Anton and his given name Dong.
After struggling to drag Lupin in, half-carrying, half-pulling him, and placing him on an intricately carved oak chair, Anton frowned.
He simply couldn't imagine Lupin, ranked above average in the Harry Potter universe, looking like this after being struck by the Cruciatus Curse. Anton himself had been tortured by the old wizard with it every other day, and he'd never felt a thing. Was he really that weak?
Lupin wasn't in good condition, semi-conscious, his eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids, his face pale as if he'd lost a lot of blood.
If he died, wouldn't that change the world?
If there was no other way, he might have to go to the post office and owl Dumbledore.
However, given Dumbledore's opposition to the Dark Arts, not only would he lose his place in the suitcase, but he might also lose his place in Hogwarts.
Therefore, if he planned to contact Dumbledore, he'd have to discard most of the contents of the suitcase.
Anton's expression shifted, his mind rapidly calculating the pros and cons.
In the end, he could only sigh silently. Lupin hadn't left earlier, but he'd been struck by the Cruciatus Curse to save him.
One shouldn't lose their conscience. It was clear that Pedro the Goblin wouldn't be returning anytime soon. Anton glanced out the open door and sat down quietly.
Closing his eyes, the contents of the old wizard's diary he'd read today resurfaced in his mind.
Regardless of whether he'd go mad or not, the Displaced Soul Curse was the most effective means of self-preservation right now.
The wand-waving gesture featured an additional circular upward motion compared to the Translocation Charm, and the incantation for the Soul Reversal spell was similar.
The only difference lay in the emotion used to unleash the spell.
The old wizard, recalling what the Oralo witch had explained, wrote down a single word: rebellion!
Rebellion against rules, against hierarchy, against life and death, against oneself. This intensely rebellious sentiment was unsuitable for a normal person.
After spending so long immersed in extreme emotions studying soul-focused magic, it was no wonder the witch had gone mad.
But Anton clearly still found it easy.
It was just a matter of gathering emotions. Of course, he felt rebellious, rebelling against the circumstances fate had bestowed upon him.
"My fate is in my own hands," he particularly liked a line from "The Legend of Wukong"—"I want this sky to no longer obscure my eyes, I want this earth to no longer bury my heart, I want all living beings to understand my will, I want all Buddhas to vanish into thin air!"
This wasn't childish talk; it was a genuine struggle against fate.
And fate had always been unfair.
He could understand, even accept it—the poverty of his previous life's orphanage, the discrimination against orphans, the hardship of being helpless, the mediocrity of his lack of talent, and everything he encountered since traveling through time.
But that didn't mean he was happy with it.
"Hahaha, Master Pedro, this is truly interesting..." A bright yet elegant voice echoed as a middle-aged man in a refined three-piece suit entered.
His eyes met Anton's, who had suddenly opened his eyes.
The intensity of emotion in his eyes startled him, leaving the rest of his words choking.
Then, a short figure walked in. "Mr. Rosier, what's wrong?"
It was clearly Pedro the Goblin.
He was 1.3 meters tall, with a physique more robust than a normal human. Atop his massive head sat a tall, pointed nose that curved downward, and ears that pointed upward.
He wore a brown suit with a hot pink vest embellished with gold thread. On his chest hung a watch that looked exceptionally intricate and finely crafted.
The huge eyes lit up as he looked at Anton, "Aha, I remember you!"
The goblin strode forward, glanced at Lupin, and stared at Anton, "You are the apprentice next to Alex Fiennes!"
Anton's eyes narrowed as well, he remembered this person.
At a gathering in a dilapidated factory in the suburbs, a bunch of people who looked like monsters and ghosts were exchanging information and magic items with each other.
The body of the moonlight turtle that Anton killed was bought by this goblin at a high price.
This guy is not a good guy!
And...
Anton saw with his own eyes that the old wizard killed the witch who was following the goblin with a killing curse, and he didn't know what their relationship was.
He exhaled deeply and clenched the wand in his wizard robe.