The dark and damp cellar had stone walls covered in moss.
Two chains extended from the gaps in the stones, hanging Anton's small body mid-air.
He breathed like a broken bellows, his lifeless eyes gazing at a small grilled ventilation window in the corner. Sunlight spilled through it, and tiny dust motes danced in the pillar of light.
"Crucio!"
The light of the curse flickered in the dim cellar.
"Ugh!" Anton clenched his teeth to keep himself from crying out in pain, his vision growing dim and hazy bit by bit.
How many Cruciatus Spells had he endured?
He could not remember, but he knew that this time he might really be close to death.
I don't know if this place is the world of Harry Potter, but I probably won't live to see Hogwarts's Owl send me an acceptance letter.
The figure in the black hooded wizard's robe in his vision gradually merged into the darkness.
Anton let out a breath, his heavy eyelids shut tightly, and his head hung down.
When he woke up again, he did not know how long had passed, only feeling a piercing pain coming from the places where the chains had suspended him.
It felt as if he were about to tear apart.
"Ha-ha." Anton let out a burst of laughter. "I'm not dead!"
He had survived the old wizard's curses, big and small, yet again.
Two months ago, he time-traveled into this abnormal Britain, becoming the apprentice of a dark wizard. To be precise, while called an apprentice, he was actually a test subject, a Werewolf bait, a punching bag, and a free servant.
He was the only survivor among the old wizard's many apprentices.
Anton had seized the opportunity when the old wizard was drunk to escape, running for several miles. Thinking he had made a clean getaway, he was hit with his first-ever Cruciatus Curse.
That feeling truly was like having several knives stabbing back and forth inside his body.
At that time, he had disgraced time-travelers, wailing and begging the old wizard for forgiveness in a humble tone.
The old wizard magnanimously forgave him and let him walk alone through the dark forest in an attempt to lure Werewolves who liked to attack young wizards.
The effect was wonderful.
The old wizard acquired a robust Werewolf with thick fur.
As for Anton, he became the old wizard's apprentice—an apprentice who would be tortured with a curse at the slightest sign of poor performance.
Screeech.
The dilapidated wooden cellar door made a harsh sound, and a flood of light poured in. Anton's eyes immediately stung, causing tears to stream down.
A filthy black wizard's robe gradually approached. The large hood obscured the face, and only a high, straight bridge of a nose could be vaguely seen.
The old wizard reached out a pale, wrinkled hand.
In his hand, he held a ten-inch brownish-red wand.
He waved it gently.
The clasp at the end of the chain unfastened itself, and with a plop, Anton crashed to the ground.
The old wizard looked down at him, emitting an old and harsh chuckle. "When young wizards experience magic outbursts, if they do not use a wand to learn spells and sort it out, death will arrive at any moment."
"You are not yet eleven, but the magic in your body is already boiling to a critical point."
It wasn't like he would turn into an Obscurus, and Anton knew it. Although he had never read the Harry Potter novels or watched the movies, he had read plenty of web novels.
Yet he had long since passed the stage from right after time-traveling where he thought time-travelers were omnipotent. At this moment, he only rubbed his wrists silently.
"You are the most talented of all my apprentices. Be obedient, and I will teach you spells."
Anton's heart stirred, and he quickly climbed up, faking an excited look. "I... I..."
"Teacher, I was wrong."
The old wizard was clearly very satisfied with his performance. "Go cook. Don't accidentally put the brightly colored mushrooms in again."
Anton's tone grew increasingly respectful. "There won't be a next time."
"Hmph."
The old wizard drifted away.
Anton narrowed his eyes as he looked at the ground, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.
He did not know how strong this old wizard's strength was considered in the world of Harry Potter, but he was definitely a pauper. Sometimes, the materials he painstakingly accumulated were all traded away for experimental materials.
So, did that mean the old wizard only had a single wand?
If he took advantage of a lesson to snap the wand in half, would what he had to face be nothing more than an ordinary old codger?
This was a chance!
He just had to be extremely, exceedingly careful.
The matter of Anton adding poisonous mushrooms to the noodles would likely have already aroused this old wizard's vigilance.
Take it easy.
Anton exhaled. He had plenty of patience.
He struggled up the cellar stone steps, pushed open the heavy door, and sunlight pierced through the forest fog, 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, looking deflated and nearly empty. The mutton fat in the earthenware pot was down to a bare skim, and even the table salt amounted to only a small handful.
"Such a cheapskate!"
Anton complained again.
Last time, the old wizard had grown tired of oil-spiced noodles and steamed buns, throwing a massive fit, so Anton had sneaked off into the forest to pick mushrooms for him as a little extra.
Right, an extra.
A small cluster of mushrooms that looked dreamily beautiful.
Anton recognized them because he had seen popular science videos about them while scrolling through short-video apps. They were Fly Agaric, and eating them only caused mild diarrhea before recovery the next day.
By the third day, death!
The kind with no cure.
A song went like this: "Red umbrella, white stalk, eat and lie on the board. Lie on the board, bury in the mountain."
Anton eagerly anticipated the moment when he could personally bury the old wizard in the mountain forest.
Unfortunately, no matter how naturally he acted, the old wizard had still miraculously sensed the danger.
"I don't know, I don't understand, I'm still just a child." Even though Anton tried his best to explain, the old wizard still hit him with several Cruciatus Curses.
He did not know why the old wizard had suddenly decided to teach him spells, but he never hesitated to assume the worst of this Dark wizard.
He skillfully kneaded the dough, lit the fire, and poured the oil.
Anton first finished a large bowl himself before carrying the remaining small bowl of noodles toward the cabin.
If he did not eat in advance, this old wizard would never leave him time to eat.
"Master, it's time to eat."
The old wizard nodded, raising his head from a pile of parchment. Without his hood, his full head of white hair and white beard looked exceptionally glaring.
His wrinkle-filled face featured deeply sunken eye sockets, and his pale blue eyes looked very profound.
He slowly turned his head to glance at the oil-spiced noodles, fell silent for a moment, and only then walked over to pick up the spoon.
"Go clean up, we're going to Knockturn Alley later."
Knockturn Alley!
Anton widened his eyes. This finally confirmed it—this was the world of Harry Potter!
He just didn't know what year it was.
Ever since he transmigrated, he had been wandering everywhere with this old wizard, always traveling through uninhabited rural areas.
Sometimes, when they ran into gatherings of strange people huddled together, he didn't dare say so much as a single word to anyone else.
It had better be the era of Harry Potter!
He prayed inwardly.
It wasn't that he liked the kid named Harry Potter, but during this time, the first generation Dark Lord was locked in prison and the second generation Dark Lord was running for his life; as long as he found a way to enter Hogwarts to study, he could secure a relatively stable life.
He had already had enough of this life where he might be killed at any moment.
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