A time traveler's essential qualities: finishing off the enemy and looting corpses.
Anton hadn't done either.
Aside from the initial moment when he desperately stuffed the old wizard into a chest, he hadn't touched him since then. Even this time, when he pulled him out, he used a long hook.
He knew the old wizard must have some treasures hidden in the pockets of his robes, but he wouldn't even touch them.
This was a lesson learned from the old wizard's words and deeds.
Even when it came to items he already wanted, the old wizard was extremely cautious when looting corpses, sometimes even asking his apprentice to do it instead.
He remembered a time when the old wizard's apprentices had died and only two remained. He casually pointed between Anton and another chubby kid, pointing to the one who was more gluttonous.
The poor kid was fine after the corpse search and cried that night, feeling reassured that he had been saved.
Then, on the third night, a head sprouted from his shoulder, the head of the deceased old witch.
Countless strange and bizarre spells passed down from the ancient wizarding era are considered by modern standards to be almost universally categorized as Dark Magic.
These bizarre spells might seem insignificant to academics like Snape and McGonagall, but outside the academy, in shadowy lands beyond the Ministry's reach, they are constantly killing countless people.
This is what the lowly, wandering wizards call a chaotic place.
The more they learn, the more they stray, and the more they stray, the more they pursue their research. Sometimes, even in the midst of this research, they lose themselves.
Seeing the situation was not going well, Anton flipped over onto his broom and flew away like crazy.
Soaring through the sky, free from any obstruction and worrying about collisions, he relaxed and glanced back.
That glance nearly frightened him to death.
In the distance, a figure emerged from the dark green glow of the formation.
It was the old wizard!
Unlike before, his body was a faded pale, translucent color.
His tattered wizard robes fluttered without a breeze, and the head he held in his hands stared intently at him!
A moment later, the old wizard floated into the small building above.
A miraculous transformation took place.
The walls, haphazardly patched together from wooden planks and rusted iron plates, cracked and fluttered like a giant bird.
After a few flutters, it actually took flight.
"Wang Defa!" Anton was astonished. He lowered his body to the broom, realizing that this reduced wind resistance and allowed the broom to fly faster.
The building was moving incredibly fast!
Even faster than the broom!
Fortunately, it didn't seem to fly far; after a while, it would descend to the ground and soar again.
And so it went, hurtling deeper into the forest.
The broom's top speed was constant, no matter how hard it was pushed; it wasn't determined by the wizard's magical prowess.
Anton was deeply grateful for his earlier decision. Without the broom, he would have died tonight.
But chasing like this was no good.
The bird-like building seemed incapable of fatigue, yet Anton was beginning to feel a little weary.
The broomstick had only an invisible gaseous cushion, and he needed to hold on to the broomstick with both hands for support.
Add to that the gusts of wind from the high-speed flight, and
Anton felt his entire body numb.
An hour!
A full hour !
And still, they were in hot pursuit!
"A test of patience, huh?" Anton's face darkened. Patience was what he lacked the most.
The more time passed, the more he couldn't afford to rush!
His only recourse now was to unleash his wand and cast a spell. But whether it was a Soul Transference Charm or a Soul Dislocation Charm, regardless of whether it worked, he would be severely weakened by casting spells beyond his capabilities. He might even fall from his broomstick.
That wasn't a wise choice!
Britain, however big, was just an island.
He didn't need to fly forever; just fly over the sea. Anton had a hundred ways to destroy something like that, which needed to land for endurance.
Proving that with enough patience, there's always an opportunity!
In a mining area of unknown origin, Xiaolou, descending and returning, was caught in the terrain and a large section of wooden flooring flew off. The ground,
which had once been on the first floor, crashed down to the ground.
Anton's eyes lit up.
Spotted an opportunity!
He twisted his broom and began to turn, with Xiaolou in hot pursuit, this time closing the gap even further.
But this was a necessary price.
Anton dove low, his broom swooping down toward the mining area.
Almost reaching the ground, he suddenly lifted the broom and launched himself into the air again.
Behind him, the massive Xiaolou wasn't as agile.
There was a loud bang, a grinding sound that was piercing.
Half of his body hit the ground, shattered into pieces.
Xiaolou, still relentlessly pursuing, followed.
"Haha!" Anton soared into the sky, feeling the pressure in his chest dissipate. He howled wildly, "This feels so thrilling, so good!"
He dove again, and dove!
He drove the building in circles, stuck in a map bug.
Finally, the crooked building shattered completely at the edge of the mine.
The dark green, silken magic circle flickered, then shattered completely.
"No!" the old wizard howled miserably. "My armor! My armor!"
He floated up and lunged at the ruins again, but as if from a different dimension, he passed right through them.
The old wizard continued to shuttle back and forth unwillingly.
Anton hovered in mid-air on his broomstick, gazing at him coldly.
"Ghost!"
He finally understood what it was.
Hogwarts Castle was teeming with these creatures.
If his memories weren't fan fiction, these ghosts were somewhere between life and death. After death, wizards had the opportunity to choose between remaining in the living world or entering the realm of the dead.
Aside from the most obsessive, few would choose to remain here after death, trapped in the awkward situation of being neither accepted by the netherworld nor the living.
Ghosts aren't even living beings; they're merely traces of their past, mimicking the state of life.
Beyond a chilling sensation upon contact, they can no longer influence anything in the world.
Ambitious figures like Grindelwald and Voldemort would never consider such creatures as their minions.
Yet, now, a miraculous scene unfolded before Anton.
The old wizard, relying on his own research into the "dark green, thread-like cracks" magic, had actually managed to create a ghost-controllable armor while still alive.
Certain fields always present exceptional individuals, like a master of the Obliviate spell.
While their overall strength may be lacking, they often excel in certain areas.
"Impressive!" Despite his dislike and even hatred for the old wizard, Anton exclaimed in amazement.
He suddenly realized that the information he had stored in Gringotts' vault might truly be invaluable!
Now that the old wizard was no longer a threat, it was time for him to pursue a new life.
Goodbye.
With a slight lift of his arm, the broom spun in the air and flew off into the distance.