Three days.
Yes, three days had indeed gone by.
He sat on his broom, just staring blankly at the endless stretch of sea. Fiennes hovered right next to him, practically fuming.
"Three whole days flying at full speed! If it were me up there, I'd have zoomed all the way to France and back loads of times by now — not just circling aimlessly around this one island!"
Anton just watched the waves crash against the shore, looking utterly downcast.
"You're hopeless with directions," Fiennes grumbled, growing increasingly agitated. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a ghost like me to keep up with your broom? Is this how you treat your master?"
"Ha!" Anton sneered. "As if you're any better. If you knew the way, you'd have told me by now!"
A heavy silence fell between them. Fiennes, a spirit, and Anton, flesh and blood, stood side by side, lost for words, simply listening to the endless rhythm of the waves.
"With all that experience under your belt, you must have some sort of trick up your sleeve, right?" Anton finally broke the silence, glancing over at him.
Fiennes's face fell. "I'm starting to get used to being a ghost, sure — but all those special advantages from the Soul Magic I mastered? They're slowly slipping away from me."
Anton stared at him, stunned. "What do you mean?"
"I've lost the ability to think clearly — all I have left is instinct and memory," Fiennes sighed heavily. "Show me even the simplest potion theory, and I won't understand a thing."
"Memory's just a messy, endless pile now. I have to dig through every little bit just to find what I need."
"My boy... I can feel my will fading little by little. Before long, all that'll be left is just a jumble of broken memories."
Anton looked at him, his heart heavy with a tangle of emotions. The mere thought of such a fate was enough to drown anyone in despair.
"The very first lesson I gave you: never be too clever," Fiennes said, his gaze burning with intensity.
"I created the Visual Acutus Potion — it unlocked a whole side of magic no one else has ever seen.
And based on that, I developed Soul Magic, spells that take root directly in the soul. See the mark on your wrist? Those patterns stand for Joy, Fury and Sorrow. Emotion and will are the very essence of the soul — and the true source of all magic."
He rested his head in one hand while reaching out with the other, his translucent fingers stretching toward the blazing sun.
"Honestly? I've touched the core of magic itself.
That's why I planned ahead for my end — I even made a physical shell to keep my soul safe.
Funny how things turn out...
Even if you hadn't wrecked that body back then, my will was always going to fade away anyway.
So this is what being a ghost really feels like..." He let out a dry, empty laugh.
He turned to look at Anton, he continued, "A ghost is nothing but the lingering echo of a life once lived. My will? It's no more than dust clinging to that echo — and the winds in this world are way too harsh."
"Back when I died, if only I'd just let myself cross over to where the souls go..."
A quiet, bitter laugh escaped him. "If I hadn't tried to be so clever, perhaps I could have started all over again."
Anton gently glided down on his broom, his feet finally touching the soft sand below
This topic felt so heavy. It was like watching an old man slowly fade away bit by bit, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
This wasn't about that messy mix of respect and annoyance he felt toward Fiennes. It was just the raw, unavoidable truth of death — and it left a tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
"If one day when my will fades completely, only a hollow ghost will remain... but that ghost will no longer be me," Fiennes murmured softly. "But before I disappear entirely, I'll pass over. All the people I've ever cared about are waiting for me on the other side."
"I was a man of pride once. I just couldn't bear the thought of people I once knew looking at me and thinking: He was too scared to face death like a man, and this is what he turned into."
"I—"
"Enough!" Anton's voice exploded in anger.
He fixed the old ghost with a cold, unyielding gaze. "You really are a coward. But me? I'm nothing like you. I've stared fate and death right in the eye — and I chose to fight back. You just stand there waiting for the end to come!"
"Know what I'd do if I were you?" His eyes burned with fierce resolve. "I'd pour every last bit of strength I have into staying alive. If the world tries to wipe me out, I'll find a way to hit right back!"
Fiennes merely breathed out a tired sigh. "It's no use."
"Is it really?" Anton pushed back, eyes burning bright. "You used Soul Magic to create a whole new kind of body for a ghost — something no one has ever done before. And isn't that exact same magic still holding your will together right now?"
Fiennes froze, staring at him in shock. "Even if that's true... what then?"
"Teach me — everything, hold nothing back. I will master Soul Magic and find a way to keep your will intact, even build you a brand-new body," Anton said, looking at him earnestly.
Fiennes fell quiet for a moment, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You cheeky little scamp... I should've seen this coming. You're the biggest trickster of the lot, and now you're trying to get your hands on my magic, huh?"
Anton snorted. "Who cares? Once you're a husk, I'll have all the time in the world to pull tricks. Plus, if all your memories are still floating around, won't that just make it easier for me to learn everything?"
It was then that Fiennes finally grew serious. He gazed at the young man, illuminated by the golden light, and said with deep feeling, "You really are something else, boy."
Anton murmured, still looking out at the horizon, "I wasn't always. Used to be just another face in the crowd."
...
Finally, Fiennes dug the answer out from that huge pile of his memories.
"Owls," he said. "These creatures possess a unique instinct. Just tell them where you need to go, and they'll fly right there. All you have to do is follow along on your broom."
Anton shook his head. "No good. There's nowhere around here to buy owls."
"Then the Knight Bus," Fiennes suggested. "Hold your wand high when in need, and it will appear right before you with a loud crack."
Anton shook his head again. "I already thought of that. But c'mon, we've been flying non-stop for three whole days now. Every minute we spend flying is time we can't get back. I'm not about to give up and call for it now!"
"Wait — hold on, there's another way!"
Fiennes snapped his fingers, though no sound came out.
"Make your own spell," he said firmly.
Anton just gaped at him, completely thrown off. "That's totally ridiculous! I'd be better off just calling the Knight Bus instead."
"Not at all. It's actually a brilliant trick — I've tried it myself before."
"First, you need a spell that is still taking shape." Fiennes leaned in, giving tiny but spot-on tweaks to Anton's stance and pronunciation.
The spell itself was surprisingly simple. It took Anton less than a minute to master it, and it didn't even require any specific emotion or deep focus.
Basically, all you do is draw a glowing arrow in the air with your wand.
"And then?" Anton asked.
"Let it fade. Then draw another — but this time, hold your destination clearly in your heart, and command the arrow to lead the way."
Anton's mouth twitched in amusement. "Makes it sound like magic does all the work for you. But honestly? I'd much rather just order that arrow to turn into a Galleon instead."
"And why not?" Fiennes replied calmly.
Anton blinked, thoroughly confused.
"What is stopping you from turning it into a Galleon?" Fiennes pressed.
"Haha, being a ghost really has knocked the sense right out of you." Anton scoffed. "Do you honestly think you're some kind of god?"
Fiennes's eyes shone with quiet wisdom. "Remember this — emotion is what powers magic. The spell itself is nothing but a shell. The real source of strength is the wizard's own will."
"Even the most talented wizards never truly get that."
"Never forget: we wizards are practically gods."
"And as a god, you rule your magic. You rule the world. Just voice your will, and reality will bend to your orders, giving you exactly what you want."
Anton flashed a grin and gave a thumbs-up. "Now that's what I call absolute power!"
Fiennes smiled softly. "Why not give it a try?"
"Just try it. There is nothing you cannot dare to do."
And so they stayed by the shore for three more days. It wasn't until the second last day that Anton completely ran out of food.
Weirdly enough though, he didn't feel hungry in the slightest. All his attention was fixed solely on moving his wand.
Then finally, the glowing arrow hanging in mid-air whirled frantically — before coming to an abrupt halt, pointing steadily due west.
"Wahahaha — I did it!" he bounced up and down, bursting with joy.
"Indeed you did!" Fiennes grinned, hovering beside him. Even as his own magic slowly faded, seeing his work carried on warmed him deeply. For the first time, death felt less like an end — he was not truly gone. Amusingly enough, all of this was thanks to the cheeky rascal who had killed him.
"You're absolutely brilliant!" Anton's praise filled him with even greater pride.
"Of course!" Fiennes beamed, puffing out his chest like a peacock — even though he didn't really have a body. "Pulling this off alone means you should start calling me Master, you little rascal.
"And always remember: Wizards are basically gods. That's the core idea behind everything I've ever researched."
Anton didn't fully agree. To him, it was as simple as guiding a cursor — yet only when casting it himself did he feel that thrilling sense of absolute control.
From what he'd read, most wizards were satisfied with learning existing spells. Few dared to delve deeper or create their own theories.
"If you weren't labelled a Dark Wizard, your reputation would easily rival Snape's," he remarked.
"Is that so?" Fiennes murmured, before a scornful smirk tugged at his lips. "I absolutely hated my old Master. But if he hadn't pushed me down the path of dark magic, I never would've uncovered the true depths of potions and magic. Ultimately, the end always justifies the means."
"I know exactly what you think of me, you little rascal — and honestly? You're not so different from the terrible student I once was."
Anton simply shrugged. "Fair enough. But even if you were still alive today, I'd still find a way to kill you."
"Hehehe..." Fiennes laughed, shaking his head playfully in his hands. "Now that I find highly amusing."
"By the way — you will be meeting my master soon enough."
Anton froze in shock. "But didn't you say your master is long dead?"
Fiennes offered no answer, only a cryptic smile. "The spell you used to strike me down follows the exact same rules I spent my whole life studying. And trust me when I tell you... my old master is just as much of a headache, even when he's supposed to be dead."