Anton finally understood the specific function of the Soul Shifting Curse.
As the spell was activated, he felt his entire body being hooked by a massive force and propelled forward along the light emitted by the spell.
Then, like a fish out of water, he plunged into the water again, and the pulling sensation eased.
After being in a trance for a moment, he felt a shock throughout his body.
An incredibly old and feeble sensation emanated from the depths of his being. With difficulty, he looked ahead and saw a young wizard standing in front of him.
That young wizard was him!
He had actually switched bodies with the old man!
It was at that moment that he fully saw what the body he had entered looked like.
He had red hair, slightly lighter than the shade of the Weasley family's hair seen in Diagon Alley today, with a platinum tinge. His eyes were light blue, and his skin was fair.
Apart from not having freckles, he resembled Ron to some extent!
Were they related?
Anton didn't know, but he finally understood why Ron had been staring at him.
Before he had a chance to examine more closely, a feeling of emptiness flooded his heart, as if a very long rubber band had snapped him back into his own body in an instant.
Opening his eyes again, he saw Fiennes rushing over and pouring a glass of fruit wine into his mouth.
In his eyes, it seemed as though he was gazing at a rare treasure. "Anton, you will be my best apprentice. You are so useful with such a talent."
What does it mean to be too useful?
But at least the old man treated him much better, even kindly asking him to rest in a small bedroom on the first floor.
Except for taking back that old wand.
Anton slept for two days before he fully recovered.
There was still a faint tingling sensation in his mind, and he wondered if it was because he had used magic beyond his capabilities.
He could feel his weakness and had the urge to lie back in bed and continue sleeping.
But no, he had been hungry for two days. If he didn't cook, he would starve.
The old man had just returned from being out, and a faint smell of lamb chops and beer emanated from his body.
So, Anton grew hungrier and hungrier.
Sigh, he couldn't expect the old man to provide a good meal. He simply cooked a bowl of knife-cut noodles, and Anton squatted beside the stove, sweating profusely.
Sure enough, sleep and eating were the best ways for humans to recover themselves.
Feeling much better, as soon as he walked out of the kitchen, he was grabbed by the sharp-eyed Fiennes and tasked with dealing with the herbs piled up in the corner.
"Bad blood grass can only use the leaves, so they must be carefully selected, with no trace of roots mixed in."
Fiennes's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Trust me, you definitely don't want to die from a large amount of ischemia after drinking the potion yourself."
Anton was stunned. "Is this for me?"
"After picking, mash it together with the spotted tiger grass, pour it into the blood of the salamander, and when it boils, throw in the leech." Fiennes burped from his wine, stretched, and shook his head. He staggeringly grabbed the handrail of the stairs.
"Hurry up, dammit! You've already wasted two days of my time, and you'll be dead before it's too late."
Muttering to himself, Fiennes went upstairs.
Anton pouted, afraid that he wouldn't be able to do it himself before it was too late.
Are you going to drink the potion you prepared this time? He looked at the assortment of messy raw materials and felt panicked.
There was actually a cage of mice and a few caterpillars inside.
This wasn't the first time he had drunk a potion. Once, Anton had consumed some kind of weird and sticky potion. His body was covered in blisters, and he had nearly died of dehydration.
"You must be patient."
Anton took a deep breath. He couldn't panic; he would make mistakes if he did.
This Fiennes wasn't a good person. In just two months, he had killed seven or eight people right in front of him.
Would he kill Anton too? There was no doubt about it. This dark wizard had killed more than one of his apprentice, and one of the reasons was simply because of a bad mood.
Putting on gloves, Anton silently pounded the herbs.
Little by little, the fear and killing intent in his heart were mashed into a sauce and buried in the deepest part of his heart.
The complexity of this medicine was beyond Anton's imagination.
It involved the preparation of over 30 different medicinal materials, some of which had to be exposed to the sun, and some had to be burned to ashes.
In between, they had to stand for a day or three.
Fiennes found a large metal cross and chained the middle-aged man to it. "Tomorrow is the night of the full moon. You don't have much time."
This wasn't for the werewolf, but for Anton.
Anton lowered his head and silently stirred the potion with his old wand. He could feel the magic power being absorbed by the potion little by little along the wand.
The dark green decoction formed thick bubbles one by one, and under the influence of magic, a hint of light red spread.
While maintaining the output of magic power, he was thinking about the only 'Soul Shifting Curse' that he knew.
Having read the books, he knows several types of magic spells, but he doesn't know the spell casting gestures, nor does he know the emotions that need to be invoked.
Whether every spell requires emotion is a question.
So, can the Soul-shifting curse be used directly as an attack method?
To give it a try, can he move his soul into the old man's body, grab the knife from the table, and hold it to his own neck?
He doesn't know if it would cause his own death and allow the old man to take over his body for a new life.
Anton knows very little about spells.
Finally, the decoction was fully prepared.
There was only a smear of transparent light red potion at the bottom of the pot, with dark green stars twinkling in the potion, which looked beautiful.
"Haha~" Fiennes stared at the potion happily.
"With such high quality, people who need to refine pharmaceuticals are filled with malice." His expression was half ridicule, half joking.
"Only strong malice can result in such a perfect quality." Fiennes admired as he drew out his wand.
"So, what should I reward you with?"
"Crucio!" The spell's light quickly rolled forward through the air and instantly reached Anton's chest.
It was simply too late to react.
Countless small knives cut wildly through his body. Anton let out a shrill cry of pain.
"Hohoho..." He gripped the crack in the floor tightly, gritting his teeth to prevent another sound of pain from escaping.
His gaze towards the ground turned extremely cold.
"Accio!"
The old wand in Anton's hand flew and landed in Fiennes's hand.
"You should learn to obey the dictates of fate and be obedient."
Fiennes whistled, walked to his desk, sat down, packed up the manuscripts, and put them in the suitcase.
He turned to the middle-aged man, "Only the last step remains. Haha, my experiment is about to be completed."
The middle-aged man looked at the paralyzed Anton on the ground and sighed, "You shouldn't treat a child like this."
"Haha." The old wizard smiled. "It's quite peculiar. You were caught by me simply because you wanted to attack the young child."
"No, after I transformed into a werewolf, I couldn't control myself at all, and I had no malicious intentions," the middle-aged man's eyes flickered with pain. "I had locked myself up, but someone tampered with my confinement and opened the door to my room, deliberately setting me free to harm others."
Fiennes whistled. "Very well, you have piqued my interest."
"I have decided to include your name in the experimental data as a reward for your contribution to this grand experiment. What is your name?"
The middle-aged man laughed bitterly. "Moony."
"A splendid name," Fiennes smiled and picked up the quill.
Anton, who was lying on the ground twitching, felt a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Moony?
Isn't that Remus Lupin?
This person is not weak, and it must have been no easy feat to be selected by Dumbledore to join the Order of the Phoenix.
Perhaps, he might need a wand!