The unicorn couldn't actually see Lewis. What drew it was the power of the Scholar's Moonstone.
Using Animal Speech and Whispering, Lewis established a mental link with it and quickly laid out a plan.
The unicorn would attack head-on, and he would strike from the shadows.
Seriously… who would've thought?
He had only been quietly observing a fight.
And yet one side had suddenly rushed straight toward him, dragging him into it.
That was exactly how Lewis felt when he saw the unicorn charging in his direction.
The unicorn wanted to pull him in, but he had no intention of getting involved—so he turned and ran.
As for the cloaked attacker—Professor Quirrell, who would very much prefer to remain unnamed—he certainly wasn't about to let fresh prey escape. He immediately gave chase.
And just like that, the three of them began a chaotic pursuit through the vast Forbidden Forest.
The more Lewis ran, the more unsettled he became.
He had never heard of unicorns being able to see through invisibility.
Yet no matter how he changed direction, the unicorn followed precisely.
He couldn't figure it out.
Finally, by a small stream, Lewis stopped.
He turned around, raised his wand, and quickly set up several Yrden Signs in the surrounding area.
He wanted to see how this farce would play out.
Less than five seconds later, hoofbeats echoed.
The unicorn found him again with perfect accuracy.
But when Lewis stood still and watched closely, he noticed something strange.
The unicorn's gaze was unfocused—it wasn't looking directly at him at all.
It lowered its head, scanning the surroundings as if searching for something.
"…So it can't actually see me?"
Lewis's thoughts shifted.
"…It's tracking something I'm carrying."
If there was anything on him that could attract a unicorn—
there was only one possibility.
He opened his pouch slightly.
Instantly, the unicorn's expression changed.
It showed clear excitement—almost joy—and trotted eagerly toward him.
So that was it.
The Scholar's Moonstone.
Its significance was clearly far greater than he had imagined.
"…Looks like I have no choice but to help it."
With that thought, Lewis silently prepared a Fireball.
At that moment, Quirrell finally caught up.
He stared at the unicorn and sneered, "Run! Go on, run! Why did you stop?"
His eyes swept the area, and he let out a ghastly laugh like a night owl.
"Perfect scenery… a fine place for your grave."
The prolonged hunt had worn down his patience.
Seeing its enemy approach, the unicorn stopped advancing toward the Moonstone.
As if to protect it, it turned, lowered its head, and charged.
The battle resumed.
Unicorns were gentle by nature—but far from weak.
Their resistance to magic was formidable,
and when enraged, they could even challenge dragons.
But Lewis could tell—this one wouldn't last much longer.
Quirrell had likely hunted it all night.
The unicorn was covered in wounds, its movements sluggish, yet it still resisted fiercely.
It charged again and again, its horn slashing through the air.
But it was losing ground.
Its attacks were becoming desperate, ineffective.
Quirrell continued carving fresh wounds into its body.
At the same time, Lewis noticed—Quirrell himself was weakening.
His spells were growing less potent.
That was the price of drinking unicorn blood.
To sustain his fragmented soul, Voldemort forced Quirrell to bear most of the curse.
It left him in constant agony.
If not for the blood slowing Voldemort's drain on his life force,
killing unicorns would have brought him nothing but suffering.
Now that Lewis had decided to intervene, he wouldn't hesitate.
He waited for the perfect moment—
when Quirrell stepped back and began casting a Stunning Spell at the unicorn—
then suddenly moved.
"Mind Blast!"
In an instant, Quirrell felt as if his mind had been struck by a hammer.
His thoughts went blank.
The red light at his wand tip fizzled out before it could fire.
Even with Voldemort attached to him, granting him awareness from both sides,
he had not anticipated such a sudden ambush.
Immediately after—
the prepared Fireball exploded.
Amid the blast, Lewis seemed to hear a shrill scream—
one that did not belong to Quirrell.
When the flames faded, Quirrell was still standing.
His robes were shredded, but he remained intact.
The Fireball hadn't done as much damage as expected.
But Lewis didn't stop.
Revealing himself fully, he stepped forward again and raised his hand.
"Aard Sign!"
A violent shockwave blasted Quirrell backward, slamming him into a tree.
Then—another flash of light, followed by a pained cry.
Lewis had knocked him straight into one of the Yrden traps he had set earlier.
Paralysis spread through Quirrell's body.
He couldn't move—let alone fight back.
At last, he realized—
he had been ambushed.
And his attacker… seemed to be a Gryffindor student?
But there was no time to think.
After his prolonged fight with the unicorn, he was already weakened.
And this "student" was anything but ordinary.
Without Voldemort's protection, that Fireball alone would have killed him.
Now trapped and unable to resist—
if he didn't flee now, he'd die here.
So Lewis watched as the cloaked figure suddenly dissolved into a cloud of black mist and shot off into the distance.
"G-Ghost!!"
A scream rang out nearby.
Hagrid, along with Harry and Ron, had encountered the fleeing Quirrell.
To Ron, the black mist looked exactly like a ghost.
As he fled, Quirrell spotted Harry—
and immediately surged toward him.
"Harry, Ron—run!"
Hagrid stepped forward to shield them.
But Harry couldn't move.
A sharp pain pierced his head—his scar burned like fire.
"Micro Meteor!"
Lewis arrived just in time and launched his spell.
A glowing sphere shot forward like a bullet, striking the black mist.
Quirrell had assumed his mist form was immune to physical attacks—
but the moment it passed through him,
searing pain exploded through his body.
Where the sphere traveled, the black mist dissipated entirely.
Nearly a third of it vanished.
This was the terrifying nature of a third-circle "god-slaying" spell—
it dealt unavoidable, true damage.
Realizing that even his mist form wasn't safe,
Quirrell no longer dared to linger.
He fled at full speed into the depths of the forest.
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