Hermione and Harry cautiously made their way deeper into the dark, gloomy forest. The dim light from the lamp Harry held almost disappeared in the thick shadow of the trees, but thanks to the bright moonlight piercing through the canopies, they could walk without tripping over the thick, snaking roots.
Every sound of the night forest, every cracking twig, made them jump. Harry broke the tense silence.
— Who do you think could have hurt the unicorn?
Hermione stopped, her gaze fixed on the darkness.
— I don't know... — she replied, her voice barely audible. — Unicorn blood is in high demand, though not everyone would dare to drink it.
Harry looked at her in confusion.
— Why?
— I read that killing a unicorn is a great sin, — Hermione explained, her voice growing more serious. — Its blood grants life, but whoever drinks it will suffer from a powerful curse.
— What kind of curse? — Harry asked, his brows furrowed.
— I don't know, — Hermione admitted, shrugging. — The book didn't give details, it just said the consequences would be terrible.
Suddenly, a horrible, heart-wrenching horse cry, full of pain and suffering, echoed from deep within the forest. Hermione immediately looked in that direction, grabbed Harry's sleeve, and pulled him along.
— Faster! — she cried.
Harry felt a strange prickling in his scar, but ignoring it, he ran after Hermione. When they reached a clearing, they saw a terrible sight: a vague dark shadow was hunched over a unicorn that was twitching in agony, trying to get up.
Hermione said in an anxious voice:
— Let's go, we need to get Hagrid!
But Harry seemed to be frozen. His scar was burning, pulsing with unbearable pain, and while he massaged it, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the terrifying figure hidden under a cloak. The dark shadow, as if sensing Harry's presence, slowly rose from its knees. The unicorn it had left behind stopped twitching; its eyes were now empty and lifeless.
The figure began to glide, silently like a ghost, straight toward them.
Hermione, who realized something was wrong with Harry, acted instinctively. Without a moment's hesitation, she stood directly in front of him, shielding him with her body, and, clutching her wand tightly, aimed it at the approaching shadow.
— Stay back! We're not alone; the teachers will be here soon! — she shouted, trying to scare him off.
But the figure didn't react. Hermione tried to cast a spell, but the wizard didn't give her the chance. He simply waved his hand, and her wand flew away. Left unarmed, Hermione panicked, but like a true Gryffindor, she didn't run away; she stayed standing in front of Harry, protecting him.
— Don't come any closer! — she yelled in panic.
The shadow raised its hand toward Hermione, and the girl was thrown back, hitting the trunk of a huge tree. Harry, finally snapping out of it, ran to her with panic in his eyes.
— Hermione, are you okay? — he asked, worried.
Hermione, holding her bruised arm, whispered:
— Run! And get Hagrid!
But Harry didn't leave. He helped her to her feet. The figure stopped and said in a chilling, piercing voice, full of sinister mockery:
— Harry Potter... You have a brave little friend. I wonder what your face will look like if she dies?
He raised his hand again, and the outline of a wand became visible within it. He aimed it at Hermione, and a bright green spell burst from it. But before it could reach its target, a log flew in front of her as if from nowhere. The spell hit the log, turning it to dust.
— Girls, why didn't anyone invite me to the party? — a voice called out.
Viktor emerged from the forest with a wand in his hand. He looked at Harry and Hermione and said:
— Harry, get Hermione out of here.
Hermione shouted back:
— No, we won't leave you!
Viktor looked at her sternly.
— Darling, you'll only get in the way. If you leave, I'll have a better chance of escaping.
Hermione looked at Viktor sadly but knew they would be a burden to him. Turning around, she said:
— We'll go get help!
As she finished speaking, another curse flew toward her, but Viktor waved his wand and changed the spell's direction. He looked at the figure with a smile.
— Not going to happen. To touch this foolish girl, you'll have to get through me first.
Seeing that Harry had left with Hermione, the figure said in the same grim tone:
— You think you can stop me and still leave here alive?
Viktor laughed out loud.
— Leave? No, I'm not leaving. I just said that to reassure my little Hermione, — then his expression grew serious, and all the cheerfulness vanished from his face. — And you, you pathetic creature, for daring to harm her, you'll stay here forever. But don't worry, I'll visit your grave sometimes.
With a flick of his wand, he sent a dazzling, sparkling ray toward Quirrell. The latter reacted immediately, creating a shimmering shield in front of him that absorbed the attack with a crackle. Without losing a second, Quirrell struck back. But Viktor simply stepped aside, and the curse flew past him. At that moment, Quirrell turned into a wisp of black smoke and flew into the thick undergrowth, blending with the shadow of the trees.
Viktor calmly began to look around, his gaze sliding from one dark spot to another.
— Hiding in the forest and waiting for the right moment to attack... A good move, — a crazy smile appeared on his lips. — But I was trained by the great Madara!
He put his fingers to his mouth and shouted as if it were a spell:
— Fire Style! Great Fireball Destruction!
A real firestorm burst from his mouth and began to spread rapidly through the forest. Viktor made a circle to set everything around him on fire. The entire clearing turned into a ring of fire, leaving Quirrell with no chance of hiding. Quirrell, hissing with rage, flew out of his cover and stood directly in front of Viktor. He looked at the burning forest.
— I wanted to play with you, but it seems we no longer have that much time, — he growled. And he struck with another curse.
Viktor used a protective charm, tried to respond, but didn't have time as another spell flew at him. He tried to dodge, but the spell's speed was too great. In desperation, he felt his amulet activate: a shimmering golden shield appeared in front of Viktor, deflecting the spell, and a stone wall immediately rose, hiding him from view.
Quirrell looked strangely at the wall that had appeared. Viktor abruptly stepped out from behind it, his wand already raised.
— Bombarda Maxima!
Quirrell jumped to the side, trying to avoid the explosion, but the shockwave hit him and threw him back. Not giving him time to recover, he sent another spell toward him. But Quirrell once again turned into black smoke and flew away, landing not far from Viktor. A bright green spell flew from his wand toward Viktor, who dodged at the last moment, miraculously avoiding mortal danger.
In terms of magical power, Viktor was not inferior to Quirrell, but in his knowledge of combat spells, he was completely losing. Viktor only knew a couple of truly powerful offensive charms, and the rest of his arsenal consisted of school spells that would hardly help in this battle. Quirrell would certainly not die of admiration after being hit with a Lumos or Wingardium Leviosa.
Without having time to recover from the previous attack, Viktor was hit by a new spell that threw him to the side. Hitting the tree trunk hard, he felt a sharp pain in his side. Looking down, he saw that a sharp, broken branch had impaled him right in the body. Viktor slowly moved away from the tree, and the branch slipped out of the wound with an unpleasant crunch.
Looking at his wand, which had flown out of his hand and was now lying on the ground, Viktor winced and said quietly:
— This is bad.
Quirrell cautiously, like a predator, began to approach him. His face was still hidden in the shadow of a deep hood, but now his figure was fully illuminated by the glow of the burning forest.
— This is it; we'll end this now, — he said.
Viktor laughed loudly.
— You think I'm helpless without a wand?
He tore the remains of his robe off and threw it to the side. The fabric twisted in the air, turning into a flock of black crows that flew cawing toward Quirrell.
Quirrell snorted, waved his wand, and rocks and branches rose from the ground, flying toward them and piercing them. And at that very moment, while Quirrell was distracted, Viktor was already next to him and delivered a powerful punch to his chest. Quirrell bent over in pain, the air whistling out of his lungs; a couple of his ribs were broken.
Viktor quickly grabbed the arm in which he held his wand and twisted it until there was a terrible crunch. After that, he stepped to the side, shouting happily:
— Touchdown!
He looked at Quirrell, who was writhing on the ground, and asked:
— I don't understand why all wizards ignore physical training? Although no, I do know. It's beneath you, you are mages. All this physical fighting is for others, for lesser races, savages. But you don't even realize how you can train your body with the help of magic. — He thought for a moment. — I've decided: when I get home, I'll hire the best trainer in England and start learning martial arts.
Viktor's speech was interrupted by a falling burning tree, which distracted him. Looking at Quirrell again, he realized that he had disappeared. Quickly glancing at the sky, he saw a wisp of black smoke moving away.
— Where did you run off to?! Get back here, I'm not done with you yet! — Viktor shouted, but his voice already sounded weak. He laughed, and there was a strange, bitter note in his laugh. — Well, sorry for starting to act like a typical movie villain, spouting out pompous speeches. Don't be offended. — He felt a wave of weakness wash over him and collapsed to the ground.
He had lost too much blood from the wound, and the last blow he had dealt had taken all his strength. Now on the ground, he didn't even have the strength to move.
— You know, you don't have to come back; you probably have your own things to do... your own dark things.
Viktor felt consciousness leaving him. Looking around, he saw that the fire he had started himself was slowly approaching him. Muttering, "Not fun at all," Viktor passed out.