A Deal

Anton had no way to deal with the Old Wizard.

The Old Wizard had no way to deal with Anton either.

Other than droning in his ear, he could not do much else.

And ever since Anton had found some cotton and stuffed it into his ears, even when the Old Wizard suddenly poked his head out of the diary Anton was studying so intently, he could not get a single reaction out of the tough little brat.

He could stare at Anton until Anton's skin crawled.

And Anton could stare right back until the Old Wizard grew flustered, even though he no longer had a heart.

The Old Wizard helplessly drifted around Anton a few times before passing through the wall and leaving again. The Leaky Cauldron's location was simply miraculous: one step forward led to the unknown Muggle World, while one step back led to the mysterious Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley.

He did not notice that once he had floated away, Anton quietly let out a breath.

"Fuck!"

"Fuck! Fuck!"

Anton flung away the Old Wizard's diary and rushed into the washroom to scrub his face.

"How am I supposed to live like this?" The little face in the mirror was filled with sorrow.

If this kept up, he would either be scared to death one day or develop a heart of steel. Anton felt he would probably be the former. What the hell was this, an ugly face suddenly floating out of a book? They had been together for two months—how had he never noticed the Old Wizard was this playful?

"Damn it!"

Anton's premonition had been right!

When he woke up and opened his eyes, he saw the Old Wizard holding that ugly head by the hair, hovering beside his own head and staring blankly at him.

Heaven knew how hard he had clenched his jaw, nearly grinding his teeth to pieces, just to avoid reacting.

Whenever he washed his hair, an icy chill would occasionally creep from his scalp down his spine. He would hurriedly rinse off the foam, only to find the figure gone from the mirror.

When he went to the toilet, the Old Wizard slowly raised his own head out of the bathtub, nearly making him suck his shit back in.

The most disgusting time was when the shopkeeper, Old Tom, cooked a pot of Sichuan Boiled Sliced Pork using Anton's recipe. The Old Wizard floated in the soup the entire time!

He actually grabbed his own hair and dunked his head into the soup.

Anton was really going all out. He picked up slice after slice of meat and ingredients, not even blinking.

He regretted it terribly now.

When would this cycle of vengeance ever end? He should not have killed the Old Wizard in the first place.

He felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare he could not wake up from.

"I'll never dare kill anyone again!" Through both words and deeds, the Old Wizard had taught Anton how to be sinister and ruthless, how to move freely through the Land of Chaos. Then, through his actions, he made Anton understand what it meant to cherish life.

One Old Wizard was disgusting enough.

If, in the future, he was eating a meal while a whole line of grotesque ghosts surrounded him...

Anton hurriedly shook his head, driving away the terrifying thought.

This continued for three days.

Late at night.

Anton had no desire to sleep. He lit an oil lamp and continued reading the Old Wizard's diary. He had already read its contents twice, and everything worth reading had been read.

Now, he began memorizing the three essential elements for casting every spell in it.

He worked harder than he ever had for the college entrance exams.

Other than the Shield Charm, which counted as a proper spell, every spell in the diary was pure Dark Magic. Any one of them was exceptionally powerful.

Their destructive power was immense—not just against enemies, but against the caster as well.

Over the past three days, he had tried casting several spells and discovered that if his emotions were not strong enough, either the spell would fail or its power would be so weak it was like scratching an itch.

To cast one successfully, he needed a long period to build up the necessary emotion.

And if he wanted to ensure he could successfully cast Dark Magic at any moment, he had to remain immersed in the emotion required by the spell at all times. That was why Dark Magic harmed humans.

He could not imagine keeping killing intent boiling within him every moment. After maintaining that for a year, would he start looking at everyone and thinking he could kill them with a spell?

Studying Dark Magic was an extremely dangerous thing.

The Wizarding World's consensus was indeed correct.

The Old Wizard drifted idly above the bed, occasionally tossing his head high into the air, catching it with his left hand, tossing it again, catching it with his right hand, then his left...

Anton could certainly endure it and pretend not to see, pull the covers over himself, and sleep.

But forget it. He would rather sit by the window, enjoy the breeze, drink something, and memorize his text.

This was a battle of endurance, and he had already prepared himself to be patient.

Slowly accepting the presence of a ghost beside him, Anton deliberately forced himself to face the Old Wizard's existence. It was nothing more than a contest of patience, perseverance, and self-control. Had he ever been afraid of that?

He refused to believe the Old Wizard could stick by his side for the rest of his life.

Let's try one year first!

"No one can learn all of it." A voice quietly spoke beside his ear.

Anton glanced over. At some point, the Old Wizard had floated outside the window, holding his head up beside Anton's ear as he spoke.

"Haha." Anton smiled smugly. "I've nearly memorized all of it."

"No, no, no." The Old Wizard cradled his severed head in his left hand and raised one finger with his right, wagging it.

"Memorizing it does not mean you have learned it. Whether it is Dark Magic or White Magic, the more powerful the spell, the stronger the emotion it requires."

"You cannot keep yourself in hundreds of extreme emotional states at once."

"You have read my diary too. Auroro once explored this field. She even went to the Muggle World to study psychology and successfully split herself into dozens of sub-personalities. It was useful, but the consequences were severe."

He raised three fingers on his right hand.

"Among Dark Wizards, those with a proper master-disciple lineage all receive a serious warning: never study more than three in depth."

"One for the spell used most often, and two as supplements."

Anton sneered. "So that's why you could cast the Cruciatus Curse so smoothly, right?"

The Old Wizard fell silent for a moment. "You killed me and even cut off my head. Even after death, I can only carry my own head around. I think that makes us even."

Even?

Anton did not think so. Those two months had brought him more than pain; they had changed his personality as well.

He did not know whether that change was for better or worse, but he knew that if his past-life self saw him now, he would surely find him unfamiliar.

"I will never forgive you." Anton stared steadily at the Old Wizard's head. "Never!"

Smile when enemies meet and let bygones be bygones? Sorry, he was not that magnanimous.

The Old Wizard shook the head in his hand as if shaking his own head.

"I do not need your forgiveness."

He floated before Anton. "I only want to make a deal with you."

Anton gave him a cold glance, let out a derisive laugh, stuffed the diary back into his sling bag, and walked straight through the Old Wizard toward the bed.

"Not interested."

With that, he turned over, lay down, and pulled up the covers.

"..."

The Old Wizard sat at the bedside, holding his head, for a long while. Anton could not be bothered with him.

This body of his was still young. It needed sufficient nutrition and sleep.

Before long, he drifted off into dreams.