In human form, Lupin was strikingly handsome, but Anton barely noticed. The potion was fading, yet he still saw the mark on his wrist in vivid detail. A dark green spider pulsed at the center, its legs burrowing deep into his arm, snaking up toward his head like living threads.
He didn't recognize the magic. He'd read thousands of fanfics, but most details were long gone. The only thing it reminded him of was the Dark Mark—something he'd only ever seen briefly in clips, flashing darkly on a Death Eater's 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 bleeding torso, blood seeping between his fingers and soaking his robes. A ragged scream tore from his throat, his face twisted in agony and fury. He stared at Anton, eyes blazing with madness.
"You saw it! You saw the Mark!" he shrieked. "You think you can run? Give me back my wand, and I might just break the 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 him, his wand swaying in his hand. Fiennes, distracted by the wand's movement, failed to notice his 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. "Master, 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 afar, his mind heavy with Anton's words: "Some things can't be solved by running." Since the Potters' deaths and Sirius's fall, he had done nothing but flee—rejecting help, avoiding the past. But running was useless. The screams and laughter still haunted him, constant reminders of his failure.
Anton reached Fiennes's side, offering the wand with his left hand, hidden by his robes. With his right, he slipped an arm around the man to steady him, his fingers tangling tightly into Fiennes's hair.
"Hurry up! What are you waiting for, you imbecile?!"
"Trying to help," Anton murmured.
In one fluid motion, he wrenched Fiennes's head back, baring his throat. The wand clattered forgotten to the floor as the knife plunged deep.
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 took him, as strong arms caught his fall. He looked up to see Lupin's weary face, touched by a gentle smile. "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 horror. Fiennes was still standing, miraculously clinging to life. The handle of the knife jutted grotesquely from his throat, yet his grip on his wand remained iron-tight.
"You… are quite remarkable, my apprentice," Fiennes rasped, blood bubbling thickly over the blade. "Did you see it? That… is the true nature of a fatal wound."
His eyes hardened, locking onto Anton. "Unfortunately, your time ends here." He raised his wand, aiming directly at his heart. "Avada…"
Anton didn't flinch. His vision, sharpened by the fading haze of the potion, saw it clearly: as Fiennes forced his magic, the pressure drove the blood violently around the blade, choking his words.
"Keda-!"
The spell died in his throat. A blinding white flash erupted, the unstable Killing Curse exploding harmlessly into the air and vanishing instantly.
Reality snapped back into focus. Fiennes stood frozen, blood gushing uncontrollably around the blade in his throat. The Killing Curse died on his lips, choked off by a violent torrent of blood that poured from his mouth. He crumpled forward, finally still.
Silence fell heavy in the room.
Anton didn't waste time staring. He hauled Lupin to his feet. The man was deathly pale, his body twitching sporadically, still paralyzed by the after-effects of the curse.
"Damn, you're heavier than you look," Anton grunted under his breath.
Thinking clearly, he opened the suitcase. He carefully laid Lupin inside, then dragged Fiennes's corpse in after him. He slammed the lid shut, grabbed his wand, and walked out the door into the night.
All in one swift, decisive motion.