The old wizard didn't stay with Anton. Although he hadn't been here in ten years, the circle of dark wizards wasn't all that large, and he didn't want to run into any old acquaintances while in ghost form.
Anton understood. He landed in a rather secluded spot, buried his broom in the dirt, and asked the old wizard to keep an eye on it.
"Ho ho ho~" Anton savored the unfamiliar rasp of his hoarse voice, then let out a shrill laugh in his bizarre disguise.
He picked up a dry branch as thick as an adult's arm to use as a cane and hobbled toward the cave entrance.
His left hand was hidden inside the loose sleeve of his wizard's robe, gripping his wand tightly.
In a dangerous place like this, Dark magic was clearly more intimidating than ordinary magic.
As he walked, he worked himself into the emotional state required for the Displacement Soul Curse.
He had to make sure he could cast the spell successfully at any moment, instead of getting carried away and reflexively firing off the Cruciatus Curse.
"That's a bad habit~"
The strange old man he was portraying leaned on his branch and muttered, "Keep turning it into a conditioned reflex like this, and I really will end up in Azkaban."
Learning to become an Animagus was also one of the most important things on his mind.
If he ever accidentally ended up in Azkaban, only becoming an Animagus could help him escape!
He rounded a massive boulder, and a cave entrance lit by eerie purple lights appeared before him. The noisy sound of heavy metal music came from within. Strange creatures were gathering from every direction, passing him now and then as they made their way inside.
A centaur missing an arm, a Goblin carrying a huge trunk, an old witch whose wheelchair was being pulled by a snake-headed dog...
And...
Anton's eyes narrowed slightly beneath his mask.
Snape!
Even with a monster mask on, that greasy mop of curls was impossible to miss.
"Cackle, cackle." Anton chuckled hoarsely and lurched along behind Snape.
The purple-lit corridor wound deeper into the cave, seemingly sloping downward. At the end was a stone hall that wasn't especially large.
A Giant sat beside a narrow passage barely wide enough for one person. With a round pot strapped to his back, Anton couldn't raise his head very high. Once he'd walked inside, all he could see were the Giant's gray legs.
Standing in front of the Giant was a wizard who looked almost normal, except for the heavy-metal-style leather jacket worn over his wizard's robe.
The leather-jacketed wizard rapped his wand hard against a wooden board beside him and shouted, "Welcome to the Snot Bubble Music Hall!"
Anton looked perplexed.
The old wizard really was unreliable. He'd told Anton about a café from over a decade ago, but someone else had taken over by now. Anton wondered if they still used money here.
The leather-jacketed wizard continued shouting, "Tourists just browsing, come collect a black bouquet. Anyone looking to sell or trade, collect a yellow bouquet. You'll have to pay a fee, and we'll make sure no one without a yellow bouquet can compete with you by selling their goods."
"For anyone looking to make a nonphysical trade, please collect a red bouquet. Once inside, go to the bar and ask for Eric. He'll provide you with a quiet, private space."
"Lastly, members of the Snot Bubble, please collect a golden bouquet. You'll receive the best treatment inside."
Anton chuckled. "Hey, kid, is this a forum?"
The leather-jacketed wizard was stunned, then burst out laughing. "Merlin's ripped underpants! Someone actually figured it out! You're the first!"
He personally picked up a golden bouquet and shoved it into Anton's hand. "You're one of our members now. Congratulations!"
Then he chuckled mischievously. "You'll be entering the inner circle of our music hall."
"Ha! Ha!" Anton shrugged. "So I'll get some decent privileges, too?"
With that, the two shared a knowing laugh.
Anton found it quite amusing. He'd thought the wizarding world was always stuffy and steeped in decaying traditions. It was already 1989, yet the British wizarding world seemed to be stuck in the previous century.
As a former coder, he immediately felt a kinship with this guy.
"Hey, kid, I like you."
Anton cackled and lurched toward the passage.
The hall was packed. Very few people held golden bouquets, and Snape was one of them.
After following the passage down a long flight of stairs, Anton finally entered an enormous cavern. It looked as though it had been expanded from a natural lava tube.
The cavern floor wasn't level. Its uneven surface naturally formed a series of platforms, and on the highest one, a band was busy churning out heavy-metal noise.
At least, Anton couldn't make out any rhythm in it.
Once inside, the crowd scattered, each person heading their own way. Anton continued following Snape toward a corner.
Before long, only people holding golden bouquets remained nearby.
A raised stone had been smoothed into a round platform, while a long ridge of raised lava served as a seat, forming a huge circle around the platform.
Snape found a place to sit and quietly waited for something.
Anton didn't approach him, choosing a spot some distance away.
Before long, the place was full. A wizard in a golden leather jacket led another man onto the platform.
"Welcome to the Snot Bubble Music Hall's premium roundtable gathering." The wizard in the golden leather jacket gestured toward the other man. "This is Pete. He'll be our seller at today's premium roundtable."
After speaking, the wizard in the golden jacket snapped his fingers. The bubble-shaped rock formation behind him suddenly vanished with a pop, revealing a huge iron cage covered by an enormous black cloth.
He gestured for Pete to go ahead, then leaped off the platform with a flourish and sat on a small rock nearby.
Pete looked like a lively young man, with shoulder-length blond hair, a thin face covered in stubble, and blue eyes set in sunken sockets.
The young man nervously rubbed his hands together and looked at the crowd. "I'm sure you've all heard the rumor."
"That mysterious man isn't dead. He's recuperating in Albania, waiting for his chance."
Everyone burst into an uproar.
Many people whispered among themselves. A burly man with a huge beard leaped to his feet and pointed at the cage behind Pete. "Don't tell me that's..."
All around them, people gasped.
Pete was startled too. He quickly waved both hands, so flustered that his voice cracked as he spoke. "You've got some nerve saying that! No, no!"
Anton heard countless people sigh with relief.
He narrowed his eyes at Snape across from him, but unfortunately, the man looked utterly lifeless, as though nothing could affect his mood.
So Anton turned his attention back to the platform. He knew this so-called Pete.
When Anton had first transmigrated, he hadn't yet learned the old wizard's rules and had accidentally let a wizard prisoner escape. The old wizard hadn't blamed him; he'd simply made Anton drink the potion that Pete had originally been supposed to take.
It had worked splendidly. Anton had experienced what it meant to be on cloud nine.
He'd spent three whole days vomiting blood, until stars swam before his eyes and he was left in a daze.
It was hard to forget.
Two months had passed, and this little guinea pig looked much livelier now.
Ps: The rumor that Voldemort hadn't died and was hiding in Albania was common knowledge in the wizarding world. Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who lasted just one year during Harry Potter's first year, had gone to Albania because of this rumor and had "luckily" found Voldemort.
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