The next day dawned bright and clear.
When he awoke, he was delighted to find Fiennes gone.
After enjoying a hearty breakfast, he reopened the journal, determined to continue memorizing the spells. He disagreed with Fiennes's morbid philosophy and had no intention of truly embracing the Dark Arts.
With so many powerful, well-established spells readily available in the wizarding world, why would he choose to hide in the shadows with dark magic?
He thought of Gilderoy Lockhart, a master Obliviator, and Harry Potter, renowned for his proficiency with the Expelliarmus.
Anton even mused that Lockhart might beat Snape; a duel's outcome often depended on who cast first. If Snape were hit by Obliviate, he wouldn't just forget spells, but perhaps even Lily.
In that scenario, Snape might actually become a decent human being for once.
Mastering a legitimate spell could bring Anton social standing and power. He wondered if learning dark magic from Fiennes was a mistake, condemning him to a life in hiding, forever alienated from the wizarding world.
His current dive into magic served two clear purposes.
Firstly, it was for knowledge—to understand the mechanics of dark magic, so he could better defend against it should the need arise.
Secondly, it was a temporary, desperate measure for self-preservation. Before he could even think of Hogwarts, he needed some reliable means of defense. Survival came first.
If he couldn't sustain the extreme emotions for his spells, he'd find shortcuts to ignite them. His mind was clear, his objectives precise, and he wouldn't be swayed by the journal's seductive whispers of dark power.
Fiennes remained absent, and his mood soared, lasting an entire week. It seemed Fiennes had truly vanished, gone for good. Only then did he begin packing his belongings.
Having committed the diary's contents to memory, he no longer needed to carry it. He planned to store it, along with his 9-Galleon textbooks, in his Gringotts vault before leaving.
He had thoroughly researched Pedro's island, noting its proximity to France despite the vast ocean separating it from England. To ensure he could promptly follow up on Lupin's treatment, He decided to reside near the French coast. Daily expenses at an inn were no concern.
Coincidentally, just as he was about to check out with Old Tom, Fiennes appeared.
"I know you've always wanted to learn the Levitation Charm," Fiennes said, a smile playing on his lips. "I noticed you pondering it for quite some time."
Anton pressed his lips together, remaining silent.
Among the dozen-plus spells in "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1," the Levitation Charm was indeed his favorite. Not only did it simplify daily life, but if executed with a bit more flair, it reminded him of the "Wizard's Hand" from a web novel he once read.
Without knowing the three crucial elements for the spell, he had only managed repeated, failed attempts through trial and error.
Fiennes, with a flourish, produced his wand from his robe pocket. Though ghosts couldn't cast spells, they could certainly put on a good show.
"Alright," he declared, twisting his wrist. "The focal point is here, with a flick and a wave—Wingardium Leviosa!"
He continued, "The emotion for this spell is often called the wizard's will. You must ensure the object you're levitating rises as if commanded by a higher power."
Eager to teach, Fiennes guided him, whose equally eager, practiced diligently with his wand as Fiennes corrected his gestures and pronunciation.
Finally, a chair in the room gently lifted into the air.
"Perfect!" Fiennes applauded, a wide grin on his face.
Anton, looked conflicted, asked, "You disappeared for so many days just to teach me this spell?"
Fiennes merely shrugged. "Pure luck, really. Overheard two Hogwarts students chattering about it in Hogsmeade."
Hogsmeade was a distant place, bustling with powerful, serious wizards—a location dark wizards couldn't avoid and openly discussed. Anton wondered how Fiennes, riddled with deep-seated fear for years, had managed to slip in unnoticed.
For a moment, he felt a mix of emotions, a complicated knot of surprise and grudging respect.
"I won't thank you for that," He stated flatly.
Fiennes chuckled, unperturbed. "I don't need your gratitude. I simply want you to know that I can be your teacher. This is an opportunity."
Anton shook his head. "I'm not particularly interested in dark magic."
"Coincidentally, neither am I," Fiennes replied, adjusting his hat. "If you've read my journal, you should know that I only recorded that knowledge for reference. The Cruciatus Curse was merely a means of attack and self-defense."
Anton pondered this, then set down his backpack and sat back down. "I know." Indeed, most spells in the journal carried a note from Aurora.
"I can teach you Potions, which is my true forte," Fiennes spoke, a swell of pride evident on his face. "You've already consumed my potion; you can feel its magic. I invented it myself."
To be honest, Anton was deeply moved. Potions were a serious subject, after all.
Although he had reviewed Fiennes's research, many methods leaned towards dark wizardry, albeit only partially. Potions, after all, lacked strict categorization into light or dark magic.
Mastering potions, a field with limitless potential offered wealth, power, and fame, much like it had for Snape.
"So, what's the catch?" His gaze was sharp, unwavering.
Fiennes drifted to the window, his gaze fixed outside. "You're right."
"???" Anton's brow furrowed.
"I may be dead, but I truly experienced the new life you spoke of." A smile blossomed on Fiennes's wrinkled face, his eyes sparkling with fascination. "It's truly enchanting."
Anton's face showed pure confusion. 'Bullshit,' he thought. This feel-good talk was outdated; the internet had moved on to toxic positivity. 'Old man, you're behind the times.'
Fiennes grinned at Anton. "Remember how I cheated death, anchoring myself to this world? It was a Horcrux, born from my Master's safe house, my ultimate escape from permanent death."
"Clearly, my experiment was a success."
"Now, I want to make a deal with you."
"Go on..." Anton prompted.
"I will teach you Potions, and in return, you must prepare enough to help me regain a physical form," Fiennes explained. "I want to truly walk the streets, touch real flowers, taste ice cream, and feel the refreshing breeze."
Anton sneered, He's always been a master of deception, how could he fool me? "After I help you get your body back, you won't be having ice cream for the first time, you'll be killing me instead."
Fiennes simply smiled, his eyes holding an indescribable openness. "You can wait until you are strong enough to easily destroy my body, or when your life is nearing its end, and then help me create a new body. I can be patient."
Anton remained silent, sensing the sincerity in Fiennes's words.
"Why me?" he finally asked. "Under the same circumstances, you could find someone else to assist you without much difficulty."
Fiennes fell silent for a long moment. "Apart from you and me, everyone else who drank the potion is dead."
"!!!"
"What the fuck!" Anton instantly recalled Fiennes forcing the potion down his throat with a wand. He'd almost died because of it?
"Crucio!"
The curse passed harmlessly through Fiennes, who merely smiled. "You possess a natural talent for dark magic."