Remus Lupin, in his human form, looked strikingly handsome. Anton didn't respond. The effects of the Oculus Potion were fading, but he still clearly saw the "runic patterns" of the mark on his wrist, now rendered three-dimensional in his enhanced vision. The square at the center of the dark mark pulsed, a dark green silken thread forming a spider with beady eyes. Curved lines, its legs, burrowed into his arm, snaking upwards through his flesh – from elbow to shoulder, and beyond, towards his head.
He didn't recognize the spell. He'd devoured countless Harry Potter fanfictions, but only a fraction remained in his memory. The only comparable image was the Dark Mark, fleetingly glimpsed in a short video depicting a Death Eater revealing the mark on his arm.
"Protego!"
An invisible shield deflected Fiennes's next Cruciatus Curse. Lupin rushed to Anton's side, seizing his arm. "I'm Apparating us out of here. Hold on tight, no matter what!"
Anton shook his head, his vision blurring. Following a faint thread of the spider-like markings on his arm, his gaze locked with Fiennes.
Fiennes clutched his head, a shrill wail escaping his lips, as if his brain were splitting. He stared at Anton, his eyes wild with desperation. "You saw it, didn't you? You saw the mark! You can't escape! Just give me back my wand, and I'll break this curse!"
"Give me back my wand!" His roar was punctuated by another agonizing wail.
Anton raised an eyebrow. "Very well." He smiled, gently releasing Lupin's grip. "Go. Now."
He walked towards Fiennes, his wand swaying in his hand. Fiennes, distracted by the wand's movement, failed to notice Anton's left hand stealthily grasping the knife.
"Kid, you can't trust him!" Lupin yelled from behind, his voice laced with urgency.
Anton paused, his lips set in a firm line. "Some things can't be solved by running. If the end is death…" He turned, offering Lupin a bright, defiant smile. "I choose to face it."
Escape was futile. As long as the Dark Mark remained, Fiennes would hunt him relentlessly. He was no longer the timid, introverted individual he once was. Though a child in body, his mind had been forged in the fires of hardship.
At least, he could face the consequences of his actions, even death, with unwavering resolve. His heart, for the first time, felt unshakably firm.
"Let's go now, while we still can," he urged.
Approaching Fiennes, Anton adopted a guise of sincere remorse. "Teacher, I was wrong. I acted recklessly. I'm truly sorry. Are you alright?"
Fiennes was far from alright. Seeing Anton approach with the wand, he breathed a sigh of relief, slumping onto the chair, his hands pressed to his temples as if to prevent his head from exploding.
"Quickly, give me the wand."
Lupin watched from a distance, lost in thought. Anton's words echoed in his mind: "Some things can't be solved by running." Since the Potter's deaths and Sirius's wrongful imprisonment, he'd been adrift, rejecting Dumbledore's help, unable to confront the past. Running had become his only recourse, but it was a futile strategy. The screams of the Potters and Wormtail's frantic laughter haunted him, inescapable echoes of his failure.
Anton reached Fiennes's side, feigning concern as he extended the wand towards the old man's left hand. The oversized robe concealed his movements. His right arm slipped under Fiennes's armpit, ostensibly to support him, while his right hand deftly grasped a lock of Fiennes's hair.
"Give me the wand! What are you doing, you imbecile?!"
"Trying to help," Anton replied, his concern unconvincing. His right hand yanked Fiennes's head back, exposing his neck. The wand slipped from Fiennes's grasp as the knife plunged into his throat.
A powerful blast of magical energy erupted, sending Anton flying backwards. He slammed into the wall, instinctively raising his arms to protect his head, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the impact.
A sudden lightness enveloped him, and a strong arm caught him. He opened his eyes to see Lupin's weathered face, etched with the marks of time and hardship, yet softened by a reassuring smile. Despite his unkempt beard, he spoke calmly. "Leave this to the adults."
But then, a familiar, chilling shriek cut through the air.
"Crucio!"
The curse struck Lupin, his gentle smile instantly replaced by agony. He writhed on the floor, his body wracked with pain.
Anton looked up in shock to see Fiennes, miraculously still standing, clutching his wand.
"You're… quite remarkable, my dear apprentice," Fiennes rasped, his voice strained. "Did you witness that? The true nature of a fatal wound."
His eyes hardened, fixing on Anton. "Unfortunately, your time is at an end." He raised his wand, aiming it at Anton. "Avada…"
Anton didn't flinch. Through the lingering effects of the Oculus Potion, he saw countless dark green cracks rapidly spreading and twisting across the knife embedded in Fiennes's neck. As Fiennes channeled his magic, the cracks pulsed with intense magical energy.
"Keda-!"
A silent explosion of visual magic erupted, the cracks twisting into a mesmerizing, intricate pattern. Anton was captivated, wanting to observe further, but the vision vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
His normal sight returned to reveal Fiennes, blood gushing from his neck. The Killing Curse remained unfinished, cut short by a torrent of blood from his mouth.
Anton stood there stunned, then snapped into action. In the unpredictable world of magic, suspended animation was a distinct possibility; he had to be certain.
With Fiennes's death, the house shuddered violently. Countless beams of light erupted from the floor, identical to those he'd seen through the Oculus Potion. He had no idea what was happening; dark magic was sparsely documented in the original books, leaving him utterly unprepared for this development.
He hauled Lupin to his feet, noticing the man's pallid complexion, his body twitching uncontrollably, paralyzed from head to toe.
"Fuck, he's heavier than he looks!"
After a moment's deliberation, Anton carefully placed Lupin into the suitcase reinforced with the Undetectable Extension Charm, then added Fiennes's corpse. With a swift motion, he slammed the lid shut, grabbed his wand, burst through the door, and fled into the night.
All in one swift, decisive motion.