He washed away the grime, changed into fresh clothes, and hung his robes out to dry. Soon after, Old Tom arrived with a feast: succulent roast pig, marinated eel, fresh fruit, and a frothing glass of Butterbeer.
Anton held up two fingers. "Two portions, please."
Tom eyed him doubtfully. "Think ye can manage all that, lad?"
Anton chuckled, patting the enchanted suitcase beside him. "I've got a friend with a healthy appetite."
The innkeeper looked utterly baffled. Years at the Leaky Cauldron had taught him many things, but a man living inside luggage was a new one.
When he returned with the extra food, his jaw hit the floor. Lying on the floor was Remus Lupin, pale and sweating heavily.
"Lupin?!"
Lupin lifted his head, offering a weak smile. "Hello, Tom. It's been a while."
But there was no warmth in the greeting. Tom glared sharply between them. "Werewolves aren't exactly welcome around these parts, boy!"
Lupin sighed heavily. "I'll go. Let him stay. I'm nothing but trouble."
Tom hesitated, looking between them suspiciously.
Anton smiled calmly and waved a hand. "No need. I'll go with him."
"No!" Lupin protested, voice strained with worry. "In this state, I can't protect you. I'm dangerous—being near me is asking for trouble."
Anton shrugged. "Then just stand back a bit. Simple enough."
Lupin tried to stand but collapsed, gasping in pain. The curse was severe. Anton thought grimly of Neville's parents—brave Aurors broken by Bellatrix, left trapped in madness at St Mungo's forever.
"Ye cannot stay here!" Tom insisted firmly.
Lupin looked defeated, ready to accept his fate and leave.
But Anton just smiled calmly at the innkeeper. "Before I go… may I at least finish this meal? It's been months since I've had anything decent."
Without waiting for an answer, he sat down and ate with ravenous enthusiasm. Seeing his hunger, Tom's stern expression finally melted.
"Aye, eat up, lad," he muttered, a faint smile touching his face as he turned to leave.
The scent of roast pig filled the room—crispy, golden crackling and tender, juicy meat. It was a revelation compared to the bland fare Anton had suffered through. He ate with pure satisfaction, savoring every bite.
"Delicious!" he sighed, finally feeling satisfied.
He set a generous portion on the edge of the suitcase-bed. "Eat. You need strength."
Lupin only hunched lower, hiding his face behind his hair.
"Discrimination," Anton said casually, wiping his mouth, "is the very backbone of this world. Pure-bloods look down on half-bloods, who look down on Muggle-borns, who look down on Muggles. Even the schools cast out anyone different. Goblins, elves, werewolves, centaurs, Veela… everyone is judged. And even among the 'elite', they still find reasons to feel superior."
He took a long drink of Butterbeer.
"It's a chain, Remus. Everyone holds a link. Unless you are powerful enough to rewrite the rules—like Dumbledore—you can never truly break free."
Lupin looked up, eyes wide with surprise. This wasn't the usual comfort or pity he was used to hearing. It was something far colder… and far more honest.
"Don't wait for the world to accept you," Anton continued, his small frame radiating a fierce intensity. "See the prejudice for what it is, accept the truth of it… and then carve your own way forward!"
"My own path?" Lupin repeated, his voice thick with despair.
"Exactly!" Anton grabbed a pig's trotter and crunched it enthusiastically. "Your magic is strong. Why not become a professor?"
Lupin gave a hollow laugh. "A werewolf professor? Who would even hire me?"
Suddenly, Anton upended a heavy sack, and a cascade of Galleons spilled across the bed.
"Me!" he pointed confidently at himself. "My master is gone. Dead. I'm left with nothing—no teacher, no guidance, just trying to survive. So you owe me. Teach me magic, and I will pay you very well!"
Lupin's lips twitched slightly. 'I almost forgot this boy murdered his own master,' he thought, saying nothing aloud.
Anton scooped a handful of coins and pressed them into Lupin's palm. "A fair trade, isn't it?"
Lupin hesitated, the weight of the gold warring with his pride, but his need was too great. He sighed heavily.
"One condition," he stated firmly. "You stay well away from me during the full moon."
Anton had already finished his meal. He tapped lightly on the window, gazing out at the busy street below, his mind already racing toward the next chapter.
"We should go to the Muggle world," Anton suggested, turning to him. "Potions, galleons… we need resources to get ahead. What do you think, Mr. Lupin?"
He turned, expecting an answer, but saw Lupin trembling, his fork slipping from clumsy fingers as he tried to eat.
Anton frowned. "Wait... is this from the Cruciatus Curse? Does it hurt that bad?"
Lupin tried to smile, but it was faint and broken. "It's nothing…" he mumbled, before his head slumped forward and he collapsed onto the table.
"Lupin!" Anton shouted, sharp with sudden alarm.