CH: 3 Soul Shifting Curse

Anton thought the old man would take him to Ollivander's wand shop in Diagon Alley.

But he didn't.

Instead, they went further down Knockturn Alley, past the largest Borgin and Burkes, and finally stopped at a store that looked like a junkyard.

The store was filled with dilapidated cauldrons used for refining potions, and there was a snake in an iron cage with missing scales.

This time, the old wizard didn't ask Anton to wait at the door

They walked along the aisle of the store, passing various goods, until they reached the counter where a chubby aunt in a large wizard robe was standing greeted them with an extraordinarily amiable smile.

"Yo, my dear Fiennes, long time no see."

The old wizard nodded and asked, "Do you still have the wolf's poison potion here?"

The shop owner laughed even more happily when he heard the question, "The wolf poison potion is not cheap, and the goods I have on hand are made authentically by Professor Snape."

It turns out the old man's name was Fiennes. Anton's expression changed upon hearing Snape's name. In this unfamiliar and terrifying world, even hearing a familiar name brought him some comfort.

However, his sense of comfort quickly faded.

He noticed a shelf behind the shop owner.

On the shelf, there was a large pen holder made of ivory. Inside the pen holder, seven or eight wands, appearing worn and used, were haphazardly inserted.

With such a display, it was hard for him not to be reminded of the chopstick containers he had seen at a fried rice restaurant in Shaxian.

He had a foreboding feeling.

He might not enjoy the upscale custom wand-picking experience described in the book.

Cut.

He was truly a destitute man.

Fiennes haggled with the shop owner over the price, pointing impatiently at the wand holder behind her, "Give me two of your wands, don't bother counting my money."

There were only two left!

Anton couldn't help but think, maybe the old man should always buy two wands so that he wouldn't need a spoon to eat pasta in the future.

But the shop owner didn't agree.

In the end, after a lengthy and arduous negotiation, they settled on a price, sacrificing an old wand.

"Don't think I don't know that you make a lot of money!" Fiennes grabbed a handful of herbs from the shelf next to him and stuffed them into his wizard's robe pocket before storming off, cursing.

Cursing and walking away.

From behind the counter, the store owner cheerfully called out, "Welcome to come again next time!"

Continuing deeper into Knockturn Alley, the houses gradually became sparse. After turning a corner, a massive lake came into view.

On the lake's edge, houses of various sizes were haphazardly constructed.

Fiennes led Anton to an open space in the far corner, hidden behind a few tall trees.

"There is a safe house here." As soon as the Fiennes's voice fell, a crooked three-story house appeared in front of Anton, with the rough wooden board almost pressing against his nose. Startled, he quickly took a step back.

Fiennes smiled proudly and explained, "This is the safe house that I inherited from my teacher. It requires extremely complex and powerful magic to manifest. Only those who know of its existence can see and touch it."

Anton paused for a moment, then realized, "So, if no one knows about this place anymore, it will completely disappear from everyone's sight and be considered non-existent?"

"You could say that," Fiennes replied, looking around with a tinge of sadness. "Unfortunately, I'm just a poor apprentice and didn't learn this magic from my teacher. It will become completely useless in eight or nine years."

Once they arrived at the safe house, their meals significantly improved. They were served a bowl of oil-splattered pasta accompanied by a small glass of wine. Additionally, there was an abundance of sweet fruit wine piled up in the cellar.

Eating wheat products every day, with only a thin layer of oil on top and no trace of meaty aroma, Anton couldn't help but think this wasn't a healthy diet.

Fiennes took an iron cage out of his suitcase, and Anton couldn't help but confirm that this dark wizard truly didn't understand the floating spell, judging by his laborious actions.

'What kind of outrageous behavior is this?' Anton exclaimed.

'He knows the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Three Unforgivable Curses!' Anton added, shocked.

'No, he should be able to master all three Unforgivable Curses,' Anton corrected himself.

"Now, the soul-shifting curse that I will teach you is a branch of the Imperius Curse, which falls under the realm of dark magic. Not many people understand it nowadays," Fiennes explained with a smug expression.

Confused, Anton tightly gripped the old wand and asked, "Soul-shifting curse? Are you going to teach me such a complicated spell right away? Shouldn't we start with something simpler?"

Ignoring Anton's concerns, the Fiennes rudely fed a wolf poison potion to the middle-aged man in the iron cage. "The wolf poison potion must be administered to the werewolf one week before the full moon to keep them awake during their transformation."

"This week, you must learn this spell!" Fiennes insisted.

"And if you dare to harm me," the old wizard Fiennes's face turned cold as he waved his wand, "I will make you experience the power of the Killing Curse."

"Believe me, no one in this world can survive the Killing Curse!" Fiennes declared.

Anton couldn't help but interject, 'Ah, but Harry Potter survived it. And even Voldemort, who was hit by its rebound, survived.'

Anton's complaints eventually turned into sighs, but I'm not them.

Learning a black magic spell comparable to the three Unforgivable Curses within a week, with the consequence of death if he failed, seemed incredibly outrageous.

It was clear that the old man had no intention of teaching him any other spells.

He picked up the wand, danced with it, and gestured for Anton to imitate the movements.

Gradually, he corrected Anton's posture.

"To successfully cast a spell, there are three essential components," Fiennes explained, following a systematic and concise teaching method that focused on the key points.

"First, the gestures. Especially for beginners, even the slightest mistake in the gestures can lead to failure."

"Second, the incantation. The different tones and pauses are crucial for the success or failure of the spell."

"Lastly, you need to evoke the corresponding emotions from within your heart."

Fiennes provided a brief explanation of the soul-moving incantation, breaking it down syllable by syllable.

"Emotions, as well as the will of the wizard, directly influence the success, failure, and power of the spell."

"When casting the soul-moving spell, your heart should be filled with unwavering determination and unyielding resolve."

Anton pondered for a moment and asked, "Wait, does this mean that all black magic requires negative emotions? This seems to be a positive emotion."

Fiennes let out a rare laugh. "Who told you this is dark magic?"

After his laughter subsided, his expression turned cold as he added, "Practice diligently, you only have one week."

Anton, who had witnessed enough of the old man's mood swings, would sometimes find himself sweeping the floor with his back turned, only to be suddenly hit with a curse.

"Unwavering determination and indomitable momentum?" Anton pondered. "Achieving such a state of mind doesn't seem difficult."

He wondered why, if that was the case, this particular magic spell had gradually been lost and so few people understood it now.

Closing his eyes, a vivid image formed in Anton's empty mind. It was the night of the full moon, one week later, with Fiennes shouting at him to unleash the magic. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make it happen.

In desperation, Fiennes's wand emitted a dark green light, his expression terrifying as if choosing someone to attack.

With no other choice, Anton quietly stood beside a pot of powdered medicine, grabbed it, and narrowed his eyes at Fiennes.

Then, he pulled out a kitchen knife that had been sharpened for a long time and rushed forward with a sense of life or death.

This was Anton's last and most desperate plan—to fight with a knife.

Suddenly, Anton's eyes snapped open, and he waved his wand, shouting, "Animus Transferro!"

A flicker of spell light illuminated the air as a faint blue glow extended from the tip of the wand, surged forward, and finally struck the Fiennes's chest.

"How is this possible?!" Fiennes eyes widened in disbelief!