Anton burst from the doorway, glancing back at the crumbling building. Magical light pulsed from its foundations, the entire structure shuddering. He couldn't afford to linger; he had to leave quickly.
He was deep within Knockturn Alley, a labyrinth of ramshackle tents and dilapidated buildings clinging precariously to the edge of a murky lake. It resembled a squalid slum, but far more sinister. A witch muttered incoherently while stirring a bubbling cauldron of viscous green liquid. Children played with dolls – dolls that, upon closer inspection, were desiccated and horrifyingly lifelike.
Before he'd gone far, Anton felt the weight of malicious gazes upon him. One figure, in particular, was following him. The phrase "A child carrying gold in a crowded town." echoed in his mind. At ten years old, lugging a suitcase larger than himself, he was a tempting target in this den of wolves.
He paused, turning to face his pursuer – a gaunt figure with oversized eyes and head, his body withered, hair matted, teeth stained black and yellow.
Glancing at the other lurking figures, Anton adopted a bold front. "I am Alex Fiennes' apprentice," he announced loudly. "Any attempt to harm me, he will show you no mercy!"
He raised his wand, a burst of magical light erupting at the man's feet.
"The Imperius Curse!" the man shrieked, stumbling back. He stared at Anton for a moment before melting into the shadows. The other watchful eyes vanished.
The Imperius Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses, sent a clear message: Anton possessed the power and skill of his formidable master.
He let out a shaky laugh, surveying his surroundings with a forced air of confidence. Underneath his robes, however, he was drenched in cold sweat.
'How thrilling!' he thought. The Imperius Curse was familiar; the Soul-Shifting Curse shared a similar magical signature, its power to manipulate minds readily apparent.
Emerging from Knockturn Alley into Diagon Alley, he made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, breathing a sigh of relief.
But then, uncertainty washed over him. Where could he go? Hogwarts was impossible; he had received no acceptance letter, and had no idea of its location. Should he seek lodgings at the Leaky Cauldron? He had no money; the suitcase likely contained enough for ingredients, but he dared not open it here, not with Fiennes's corpse and the still-unconscious werewolf inside.
Lupin, ostracized due to his lycanthropy, found himself unexpectedly contemplating a solution. The Weasleys! They were close friends, potential allies. While his hair differed slightly from their signature shade, it wasn't drastically dissimilar. Red hair in the Celtic populations of Europe and America was predominantly associated with the Weasley family. Moreover, his resemblance to Ron suggested a possible, albeit distant, familial connection. The problem? He didn't know their address.
"What now?" Anton scanned the Leaky Cauldron, adrift in this unfamiliar world. Yet, he refused to succumb to despair. If he couldn't rely on others, he'd rely on himself. He needed money, the most fundamental necessity for survival.
The bar buzzed with conversation. Anton's gaze fell upon a distinctive figure: a colossal man, easily seven feet tall, whose face was almost entirely obscured by a thick mane of hair and a bushy beard, clad in a moleskin coat. Could it be Hagrid?
"Mr. Hagrid, your recklessness has landed you in this predicament. You should explain yourself to Dumbledore!" A wizard beside Hagrid spoke, his tone sharp and disapproving.
Hagrid shifted uneasily. "Professor Snape, I…" He met Snape's piercing gaze, his lips moving silently before he hung his head. After a long pause, he rubbed his hands together nervously. "Professor Snape, it can be salvaged, you see. Please, help me. I can't fail Professor Dumbledore."
'Hagrid and Snape!' Anton's heart leaped. He frantically recalled everything he knew about them, searching for a viable solution. Even if they were willing to assist, taking him to Hogwarts was out of the question.
He couldn't reveal Lupin's condition to Snape, their animosity too deep-seated. He couldn't trust Hagrid alone; the half-giant's reputation for indiscretion was legendary, and Snape would inevitably learn the truth. His course of action remained unchanged.
He cautiously approached the corner, discreetly opening a gap in the suitcase. Fiennes's corpse lay still, the dagger's precise placement having severed his neck cleanly.
Lupin, pale and weak from the Cruciatus Curse, leaned against the box, but offered a faint smile at Anton's approach.
Anton pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. He quickly slipped into the suitcase, retrieving a glass vial from the shelves before exiting as quietly as he had entered.
Fiennes, despite his poverty, possessed valuable items. Among them was the Lacewing Flie, a rare and highly sought-after potion ingredient crucial for creating the potent Felix Felicis.
Snape was whispering to Hagrid when a small hand outstretched, presented the vial. "Sir, do you require a flie?"
"No, thank you," Snape replied dismissively, his gaze, however, lingering on the flie within the vial. A faint smirk touched his lips as he assessed Anton's slender frame. "Ten Sickles."
Anton was taken aback. "Ten Sickles? Do you think I can't afford ice cream or sweets?"
Snape's gaze was icy. "Your ill-fitting robes, your stained and patched clothing, your weary demeanor – all point to a life of hardship. This flie is clearly a common firefly."
"You don't even know what it is," He continued, his voice laced with disdain. "No one in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley could acquire such an item."
"Ten Sickles. I'll take it for my collection."
Anton knew that selling it to someone unfamiliar with the ingredient would be impossible. But Snape, a renowned potions master, should recognize it instantly. Ten Sickles? Why so cheap?
He sighed, turning to Hagrid, who, despite his secret wealth, showed no interest in the Lacewing Flie.
"Even the famed potion master doesn't recognize a Lacewing Flie. Don't forget that," He shrugged, clutching the vial, and started to leave.
"Wait!" Snape called out.
A subtle smile touched Anton's lips.