Dark Wizard's Apprentice

The dark, damp cellar was covered in moss that crept across the stone walls.

Two chains extended from gaps in the stones, suspending Anton's small body in midair.

He panted like a broken bellows, his lifeless eyes fixed on a small barred ventilation window in the corner. Sunlight spilled through it, and tiny sprites danced in the beam.

"Cruciatus Curse!"

The spell's light flashed through the dim cellar.

"Mm!" Anton gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out in pain as his vision gradually dimmed and blurred.

How many Cruciatus Curses had he endured?

He could not remember, but he knew that this time, he might truly be close to death.

"I don't know whether this is the world of Harry Potter, but I probably won't live to receive an acceptance letter from Hogwarts delivered by an Owl."

The figure in the black hooded Wizard Robe slowly faded into the darkness.

Anton let out a breath. His heavy eyelids shut, and his head drooped.

When he woke again, he had no idea how much time had passed. All he felt was piercing pain where the chains had held him.

It felt as though he were about to split apart.

"Haha." Anton laughed. "I'm not dead!"

He had survived the Old Wizard's countless vicious curses once more.

Two months ago, he had transmigrated to this abnormal Britain and become a Dark Wizard's Apprentice. More precisely, he was called an Apprentice, but in truth, he was a test subject, Werewolf bait, a punching bag, and a free servant.

He was the only survivor among the Old Wizard's many Apprentices.

Anton had once tried to escape while the Old Wizard was drunk. He ran several miles, thinking he had escaped death, only to be struck by the first Cruciatus Curse of his life.

The sensation had truly felt like several knives stabbing through his body again and again.

Back then, he had disgraced transmigrators. He howled in agony while humbly begging the Old Wizard for forgiveness.

The Old Wizard had magnanimously forgiven him and sent him alone into the dark forest, intending to lure in a Werewolf that liked attacking Young Wizards.

The results had been excellent.

The Old Wizard acquired a strong, healthy Werewolf with thick fur.

And Anton became the Old Wizard's Apprentice. An Apprentice who would be tortured by a vicious curse for the slightest poor performance.

"Creak—"

The cellar's long-neglected wooden door let out a piercing groan. A flood of light poured in, making Anton's eyes stream with tears.

A filthy black Wizard Robe gradually approached. Its large hood hid the wearer's face, revealing only the faint outline of a high-bridged nose.

The Old Wizard extended a pale, wrinkled hand.

He held a ten-inch reddish-brown wand.

He gave it a light wave.

The clasp at the end of the chains opened on its own. With a smack, Anton fell to the ground.

The Old Wizard looked down at him and gave a low, aged, grating laugh. "After a Young Wizard undergoes a magical outburst, death can descend at any time if he does not use a wand to learn spells and regulate it."

"You are not even eleven, yet the magic inside your body is already boiling at its critical point."

Wasn't that just becoming an Obscurus? Anton knew that. He had never read the Harry Potter novels or watched the films, but he had read plenty of web novels.

But he had long passed the stage where he believed transmigrators were omnipotent. He merely rubbed his wrists in silence.

"You are the most talented of all my Apprentices. Be obedient, and I will teach you spells."

Anton's Heart's Stirring. He hurriedly climbed to his feet, putting on an excited expression. "I... I..."

"Teacher, I was wrong."

The Old Wizard was clearly satisfied with his performance. "Go cook. And do not accidentally put those bright mushrooms in again."

Anton's tone grew even more respectful. "There won't be a next time."

"Mm."

The Old Wizard drifted away.

Anton narrowed his eyes at the ground, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

He did not know how strong this Old Wizard was in the world of Harry Potter, but he was definitely a Broke Person. Sometimes, even the materials he had painstakingly saved up would be traded away for experimental supplies.

So did that mean the Old Wizard had only one wand?

If Anton snapped that wand in half during a lesson, would all he have to face be an ordinary decrepit old man?

This was an opportunity!

But he had to be careful. Extra careful.

Anton's attempt to poison the noodles had likely already made the Old Wizard wary.

Take it slow.

Anton exhaled. He had more than enough patience.

He struggled up the cellar's stone steps and opened the door. Sunlight pierced through the forest mist, illuminating everything brightly.

Step by step, he made his way to the kitchen in the corner of the walled courtyard. A cloth sack of wheat flour sat in the corner of the stove. Judging by how shriveled it looked, there was not much left inside. Only a thin layer of mutton fat remained in the earthen jar, and there was barely a small handful of salt.

"This Broke Person!"

Anton grumbled again.

Last time, the Old Wizard had grown sick of Oil-Splashed Noodles and Steamed Buns, throwing a tremendous tantrum. Anton had slunk into the forest to pick mushrooms and add a little something to his meal.

Yes, add a little something.

A small cluster of mushrooms that looked dreamily beautiful.

Anton recognized them because he had seen an educational video while scrolling through short clips: Fly Agaric. Eating them would only cause mild diarrhea, and one would recover the next day.

On the third day, death!

The incurable kind.

There was a song that went, "Red caps, white stems, eat them and lie flat. Lie flat, then get buried in the hills."

Anton had looked forward to the day he could personally bury the Old Wizard in the mountains.

Unfortunately, no matter how natural he acted, the Old Wizard had still sensed the danger with astonishing vigilance.

"I don't know, I don't understand, I'm only a child." Even though Anton tried his best to explain, the Old Wizard still gave him several Cruciatus Curses.

He did not know why the Old Wizard suddenly wanted to teach him spells, but he had always been willing to assume the worst of this Dark Wizard.

He kneaded the dough, lit the fire, and poured on the oil with practiced ease.

Anton first wolfed down a large bowl himself, then carried the remaining small bowl of noodles toward the Cottage.

If he did not eat beforehand, this Old Wizard would definitely not leave him time for a meal.

"Teacher, it's time to eat."

The Old Wizard nodded and raised his head from a pile of parchment. Without his hood, his white hair and beard were especially glaring.

His wrinkled face had deeply sunken eye sockets, and his pale blue eyes looked profound.

He slowly turned to glance at the Oil-Splashed Noodles, fell silent for a moment, then walked over and picked up a spoon.

"Go get ready. We're going to Knockturn Alley shortly."

Knockturn Alley!

Anton's eyes widened. He could finally be certain now: this was the world of Harry Potter!

He just did not know what year it was.

Ever since he had transmigrated, he had wandered everywhere with this Old Wizard, always traveling through deserted wilderness.

Sometimes, when he came across gatherings of strange people, he did not dare say even a single word to anyone.

Please let this be Harry Potter's era!

He prayed silently.

It was not because he liked that child Harry Potter. It was because, during this time, the first Dark Lord had been locked in prison, while the second Dark Lord was fleeing everywhere. As long as he found a way to enter Hogwarts, he could have a relatively stable life.

He had had enough of living each day with the possibility of being killed at any moment.