A wave of malevolent energy swept toward them. Dudley's expression shifted instantly as he sensed something terribly wrong with the approaching black cloud.
The dark mass seemed to notice them as well, circling overhead like a predator.
"Kill them!" A low, rasping voice emerged from within the swirling darkness, dripping with madness and hatred.
"Yes, master," came the subservient reply.
The cloud plummeted toward them with terrifying speed. Before Harry and the others could process what was happening, the black mist crashed down at the pond's edge and solidified into a familiar figure.
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared in complete bewilderment.
Why was their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here? And more unsettling still, where was the purple turban he always wore?
Without hesitation, Dudley hurled the grilled fish in his hand directly at Quirrell while silently activating his abilities. Bribe. Weaken.
"Reducto!" Quirrell's spell crackled through the air toward Dudley.
"Move!" Dudley shoved Hermione aside as he dove for cover.
The explosion thundered behind them, leaving a smoking crater where they'd been standing moments before. Thanks to Dudley's supernatural intervention, the spell's power had been significantly diminished, sparing them from serious harm.
Quirrell's face twisted in confusion. "What just happened?"
The grilled fish had seemed harmless enough when it struck him, yet the moment of contact had sent an icy chill through his entire body, drastically weakening his magical output.
"Focus on Dudley first!" The sinister voice hissed from the back of Quirrell's skull.
"Of course, master." Quirrell's eyes locked onto Dudley with renewed intensity.
Ron stood frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend the situation. How could a trusted professor suddenly turn violent? At eleven years old, such betrayal was beyond his understanding.
"Ahhh!" Harry's agonized scream pierced the air.
Searing pain exploded across his forehead scar, more intense than anything he'd experienced before. The agony blurred his vision and sent him tumbling into the pond with a splash.
"Ron! Get Harry out of here, as far away as possible!" Dudley shouted while pulling Hermione to safety.
"Right!" Though Ron didn't fully grasp what was happening, he understood one thing perfectly. When Dudley gave orders, you followed them.
He hauled the writhing Harry from the water and began dragging him toward the forest edge.
"There's... something on the back of his head," Harry gasped through gritted teeth. Despite the overwhelming pain, he could sense the source of his torment. Not just Quirrell, but something else. Something hideous and malformed clinging to the professor's skull.
Ron ignored Harry's rambling, focused entirely on Dudley's command. They were clearly in mortal danger, and staying would only make things worse. Harry might even be the primary target.
"ROAAARRR!"
Norbert's furious bellow shook the trees. The young dragon had been startled by the magical attack and now turned his burning gaze toward Quirrell. Crimson flames erupted from his jaws in a torrent of draconic fury.
"Protego!" Quirrell hastily conjured a shield, the barrier flickering under the intense heat.
Dragon fire wasn't ordinary flame. It carried magical properties that could overwhelm standard defensive spells. The crimson inferno bathed Quirrell's pale features in hellish light, transforming him into something demonic.
"Firenze! Take Hermione and the others, get them away from here!" Dudley thrust Hermione toward the centaur, who had courageously rushed to their aid instead of fleeing.
"I can carry all of you! Climb on quickly!" Firenze lowered himself, abandoning centaur pride in the face of mortal peril.
"No. You take them. I'm staying." Dudley's voice carried arctic coldness.
He'd tried to avoid this confrontation by hiding in the forest, ignoring Voldemort's theft attempt entirely. Yet here the dark wizard was, hunting him like prey.
Three times. First at Gringotts. Then the troll incident. Now this direct assault. Each time featuring the Killing Curse. Each time targeting him personally.
He'd shown restraint before, preferring to let Dumbledore handle the situation. But restraint had been mistaken for weakness.
That raspy voice had been crystal clear: "Kill Dudley first."
No more.
"But you can't possibly..." Firenze began.
"GO!" The word cracked like a whip, carrying supernatural authority that made the centaur's protests die in his throat.
"Dudley, it's Voldemort," Harry managed weakly as Ron dragged him over.
"All of you, leave. Now." Dudley's tone brooked no argument.
Their presence would only slow him down. Under his Interrogator's influence, even Ron and Harry found themselves compelled to obey, scrambling onto Firenze's back without further protest.
"Stay alive," Firenze said simply before galloping into the forest depths with his precious cargo.
Dudley watched them disappear into the treeline, then turned back to where Quirrell battled against Norbert's flames. The professor's shield was weakening, his face slick with sweat from the supernatural heat.
A cold smile played across Dudley's lips as he stepped forward.
"You've made a terrible mistake coming here."