[26] The Unicorn That Gave Itself

The Forbidden Forest was dense and dark. Hall moved carefully, identifying herbs by lantern light. He didn't want to use Lumos — magical light would scare the shy creatures.

Like unicorns.

"Hall, is that a branch too?" Draco's voice trembled.

Up ahead, a dark shape clung to the body of a wounded unicorn, drinking its blood.

"That's definitely not a branch."

Draco's legs gave out. "Merlin — I'll go get Hagrid —"

Hall grabbed him before the creature noticed.

Then the figure looked up.

Quirrell.

But Quirrell was in the infirmary. Mad, according to Dumbledore. Feigning madness under Dumbledore's nose is nearly impossible.

So if it's not Quirrell — who is it?

Only one person would be insane enough to drink cursed unicorn blood.

Voldemort.

Draco retched, alerting the creature. Hall shoved Draco into a ditch and turned to face it.

Eighty percent chance this was a fragment of the Dark Lord.

And the unicorn — if he saved it, it might gift him its blood. Unicorn blood had powerful healing properties. Exactly what the Squib potion needed.

A gust of wind approached from behind. Hall calculated the distance, spun, and cast: "Petrificus Totalus!"

The creature crashed to the ground. Its hood fell away.

Quirrell's face stared up at him in shock. Then his eyes shifted — calculating. Murderous.

This isn't Quirrell. This is Tom Riddle controlling the body.

"Hello, Tom."

The Forbidden Forest swallowed them whole.

"Go!" Hall shouted at Draco. "Find Hagrid!"

Draco scrambled toward the distant light. Quirrell raised his wand to stop him. Hall's wand shot a golden beam that grazed his bald head and struck a tree behind him. The tree exploded.

Quirrell's eyes widened. Wandless magic. Silent magic. Magical power rivaling an adult wizard. This isn't a first-year.

"Your opponent is me."

"Heh." Quirrell's voice was cold. "Since you're so eager to die."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hall shouted, then followed with "Lumos!" A blinding flash filled the forest.

Unlawfully taken from NovelPhoenix, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Quirrell's wand glowed green. "Avada —"

The light hit his eyes. He staggered.

Hall had already retreated into the ditch. He estimated Draco had reached Hagrid by now. Time was limited. He needed to finish Number Two before backup arrived — and secure the unicorn's gratitude.

He pulled out his digging dagger.

The green curse struck where he'd been standing. Hall channeled all his magic, flying through the light toward the indistinct figure.

He remembered Voldemort's power from the books. But this fragment — Number Two — had his soul split in pieces. His magic couldn't be intact.

Hall crashed into Quirrell. The dagger sank into his abdomen like cutting tofu. Hall stabbed seven, eight times, then stopped.

Wounded, not killed. I still need him to prove my innocence.

He threw Quirrell to the ground, kicked away his wand, and dragged him by the feet to the dying unicorn.

Kneeling before the unicorn, Hall watched it nuzzle his palm.

"It says you can take its blood, flesh, and organs as repayment."

Hall looked up. A centaur stood nearby — upper body of a man, lower body of a horse.

"I am Firenze. Unicorns are pure creatures. It sensed your kindness."

Hall turned back to the unicorn. Its beautiful eyes were glazing over. He took out a bottle and a dagger, and collected what he needed.

The unicorn nuzzled him one last time and was still.

"I want to bury it."

"It will go home," Ferenze said. "Its kind will come for it."

Hall removed his robe and covered the unicorn. Ferenze lifted it onto his back. Hall levitated Quirrell's body, and they walked toward the forest edge.

The unicorn had known his intentions — known he wanted its blood for profit — and still given itself willingly. Hall felt the weight of that.

If this works, I'll sell it cheaper. As charity.

His mind activated. B-Rank simulation. A dozen cauldrons, ingredients combined differently, reactions testing simultaneously. Hundreds of experiments in seconds.

He opened his eyes. A near-perfect formula.

"Headmaster! I've got it!"

Time moved on.

Dumbledore had Hagrid take Quirrell to the infirmary. He and Snape escorted Harry and Draco back to their common rooms, leaving Hall alone in the Headmaster's office.

Hall examined the portraits of past headmasters. They examined him back.

When Dumbledore and Snape arrived, Hall stood. "Headmaster. Head of House."

"Henry. Severus. Sit down."

Dumbledore conjured chairs. "Henry, did you inflict Professor Quirrell's injuries?"

"Yes. I thought he was possessed by an evil spirit. He tried to kill me. I had a dagger in my hand — for digging herbs."

Snape's face was stern. "Albus, Henry is the victim. If that's all, I'll have him go back to rest."

"Hahaha. Henry — what were you shouting at the edge of the forest?"

Hall took out his storage bag.

"Unicorn blood?" Snape was suddenly very alert. He took the box carefully.

"There's also meat and entrails. A gift from the unicorn."

"How did you get these?" Dumbledore asked. "Unicorns hate humans."

"Because it felt I was avenging it. It gave them willingly."

Hall looked at both of them. "Headmaster. We might succeed."

The two potions fanatics exchanged a look. They wanted to set up the cauldron immediately.

"Ahem. Severus, let Henry rest. Tomorrow isn't too late."

Hall understood. Dumbledore wanted to speak to Snape alone. He excused himself.

Dumbledore's office felt too small.

The next day, Hall handed his formula to Snape.

Snape frowned, studying it carefully. Then he took out his personal cauldron — pure gold, handcrafted by dwarves, engraved with heat-retaining and success-enhancing runes.

Hall's eyes widened. Snape wouldn't use that cauldron for ordinary potions.

"Here." Snape handed him the golden stirring rod.

Hall worked carefully. He'd provided the formula; Snape prepared the ingredients. At the final infusion of magic — the step where the potion had always turned pale blue and failed — this time, it turned silver. Like unicorn blood.

Three vials. Hall sealed them.

Snape would take one to Filch to test. If it worked, the remaining two would go to the Board of Governors.

Hall didn't mention his other plan. The Philosopher's Stone. He wanted a perfect, long-lasting version too. And he knew exactly how to get it.

---