Anton ran out of the door and looked back. The whole crooked building made of wooden boards and iron plates was swaying and emitting magical light.
He didn't dare to stay any longer and left quickly.
This is the deepest area of Knockturn Alley. Countless tents, sheds, and tree branch houses are stacked in every corner of the big lake.
It looks like a slum.
But it is much scarier than ordinary slums.
There is a witch who looks crazy and muttering to herself, cooking a pot of strange green bubbling things.
There are also children holding a few dolls and playing. Looking closely, those dolls are actually dried and shrunken people!
Anton didn't go far before he found several malicious eyes.
There was even one staggering after him.
"A child carrying gold through a busy market," the phrase flashed through his mind. The figure he had teleported into looked about ten years old, carrying a suitcase larger than himself. In this perilous Knockturn Alley, he looked particularly alluring.
Anton paused, pondering the situation.
He turned coldly to look at the man following him. He had large eyes and a large head, but a shriveled frame, unkempt hair, and a mouthful of black, yellow teeth.
He glanced at the distant, vague, and malicious gaze.
With a sneer, he declared, "I am Alex Fiennes' apprentice. If someone attacks me and causes my teacher to miss a task, he won't hesitate to kill!"
With that, he swung his wand, and a flash of magical light exploded on the ground in front of the large head.
"Imperius Curse!" the head screamed, quickly stepping back, staring at Anton for a moment before slowly retreating into the darkness.
Then, the prying eyes around him vanished.
The Imperius Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Even those who didn't know Fiennes could sense his presence from his apprentice's fluent casting of the dark magic. He
was someone you couldn't afford to mess with.
Anton chuckled, looked around through his nose, his eyes full of pride, and continued to walk forward.
No one knew that his back under his wizard robes was already covered in cold sweat.
So exciting!
He knew nothing about the Imperius Curse.
The only spell he had learned, the Soul Transference Curse, had a similar magical glow to the Imperius Curse, making it easy to confuse it.
Walking out along Knockturn Alley, besides the alley entrance, there was Diagon Alley, and from Diagon Alley he came to the Leaky Cauldron.
Anton finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he was at a loss.
- Where should he go next?
Hogwarts?
That was impossible. Not only did he not receive the acceptance letter from the owl, he didn't even know where the school was.
Get a room at the Leaky Cauldron first?
He had no money on him, and while the suitcase might contain enough to buy food, he didn't dare open it in a place like this. Besides the old wizard's corpse, there was also a werewolf whose circumstances were unknown.
Lupin had a tough time, being ostracized wherever he went because of his werewolf identity.
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
The Weasleys!
First, Lupin was their good friend and could use their help.
Second, while his red hair was different from the Weasleys', it wasn't drastically different. Among Europeans and Americans, red hair is Celtic, and among wizards, only the Weasleys are unique. Besides, he looked a bit like Ron. It was hard to say if they were distant relatives.
But then again,
he had no idea where their family was.
"Shit." Anton looked around blankly, unsure where in the world he could go.
But he didn't give up.
If he couldn't find anyone to rely on, he would have to rely on himself.
He had to find a way to make some money; it was the most essential condition for survival.
There were a few people sitting sparsely in the bar. Under the dim light, the murmur of chatting penetrated into his ears, making it seem a bit noisy.
Anton looked at them one by one, trying to find an opportunity.
Finally, a person with particularly obvious features appeared in front of him.
The oversized figure of three meters and five was too eye-catching.
His thick hair and messy beard almost covered his face, and he was wearing a moleskin jacket.
Could this person be Hagrid?
"Hagrid, because of your stupid behavior, you have led to this situation now. You go and explain to Dumbledore yourself!" A male wizard next to Hagrid had a gloomy face and a somewhat harsh tone.
Hagrid seemed a little restless, "Professor Snape, I..."
He met Snape's sharp gaze, his lips moved, and finally he lowered his head pitifully.
He hesitated for a long time, rubbing his head against the chair and leaning closer. "Professor Snape, it can still be saved. Please help me. I can't let Professor Dumbledore down." It
was Hagrid
, and the other one was Snape!
Anton's mind raced, and he quickly recalled the information he had on the two men, trying to find anything useful.
First, even if they were willing to help him, they couldn't take him to Hogwarts.
Furthermore, he couldn't tell them about Lupin's situation. Snape and Lupin were sworn enemies. Telling Hagrid alone wouldn't work either; he was known for his tight-lipped nature, and Snape would know immediately.
It seemed there was only one thing left for him to do.
Anton cautiously looked around, then went to the corner, opened a crack in the suitcase, and peered inside.
The old wizard looked completely dead. Perhaps it was the angle at which he had stuffed him in, but the dagger had sliced through his neck, severing it completely.
Lupin looked particularly bad. Just one Cruciatus Curse had left him leaning against the wall with a pale and weak face. Seeing him looking in, he smiled slightly.
Anton raised his finger, "Shh."
He quickly opened the suitcase and jumped in, grabbed a glass bottle from the shelf and rushed out quickly.
The old wizard was a little poor, but he had a lot of treasures in his hands.
For example, the brain of the moonlight turtle, a high-end medicinal material, was necessary for making the Felixir.
It was in a situation where there was no market for it.
Snape was whispering to Hagrid when suddenly a small hand raised the glass jar in front of his eyes, "Sir, do you need the brain?"
"No need." Snape glanced at it coldly, but was captivated by the brain floating in the potion in the glass jar.
His lips curled slightly as he looked at the frail Anton. "Ten Sickles."
"!!!!" He was bullying a child, wasn't he? Anton was stunned. "Ten Sickles? You think I don't have money for ice cream or candy?"
Snape's cold eyes fixed on Anton. "You're wearing ill-fitting wizard robes. It's obvious you come from a poor family. They're covered in stains and holes. I could almost say you're a homeless person."
"This brain is obviously not yours. You stole it, right?"
"It's a shame. You don't even know what it is. No one in Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley would buy such a thing."
"Ten Sickles. I'm buying it for my collection."
Indeed, to someone who didn't recognize the item, it wouldn't fetch much.
But this was a renowned Potions Master.
Ten Sickles? Was it that shady?
Anton curled his lips and turned to look at Hagrid. Although this man was a hidden tycoon, he was obviously not interested in the turtle brain in his hand.
"Haha, a famous potion master doesn't even recognize the moon turtle brain. Forget it."
He shrugged, holding the glass jar and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Snape shouted from behind.
Hey, Anton's mouth curled up slightly.