A Sword to the Kidney

Even in History of Magic, Professor Binns had started mentioning topics beyond the textbook more frequently.

The only class that hadn't changed was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Quirrell continued droning straight from the textbook, delivering lifeless lectures. Occasionally, when he added his own interpretations, they were so nonsensical that even the students found them amusing.

Strangely, this incompetence endeared him to many students.

At least one professor wasn't adding to their burdens!

What a nice person.

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry, like the others, was furiously scribbling away on his assignments.

"Harry, can I borrow your essay for reference? There's something I don't quite get." Hermione leaned over and suddenly exclaimed, "What's this?"

"A map of the Forbidden Forest," Harry said in a hushed tone. "The parts I've explored so far."

He reached into the Sorting Hat and pulled out a stack of essays. "Which one do you need?"

"Thanks." Hermione took them all without hesitation.

Ron clicked his tongue. "Miss Granger, you've fallen from grace."

"Shut up!" Hermione glared at him. "I'm not copying, just referencing and looking for inspiration."

Ron responded with exaggerated clicking sounds, his tone dripping with mockery.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and waved her wand threateningly.

Ron immediately clammed up, gripping the essay Hermione had lent him.

When night fell, Harry donned his Invisibility Cloak and ventured once again into the Forbidden Forest.

There were still vast unexplored areas, many marked as extremely dangerous—like the Acromantula territories. Harry wouldn't risk venturing there unless he had searched the entire forest and found no trace of the bicorns.

As he entered the woods, a strong, metallic scent of blood hit him, mingled with a sharp, grassy tang.

Unicorns.

Were they injured?

Harry was surprised. Unicorns, though categorized as "4X" magical creatures, weren't as easy to handle as trolls. Their gentle nature meant they rarely harmed anyone, even men, preferring to drive them away rather than attack.

What could have injured one?

A bicorn?

Such a cursed creature, feeding on goodness and justice, seemed a likely and capable culprit.

Pulling the cloak tighter, Harry soon spotted the first trace of blood.

It was silvery white, gleaming like moonlight, splattered messily across the ground. The sacred creature's blood radiated a malice so intense that Harry instinctively kept his distance.

Following the trail, he soon heard anguished whinnies, sharp and piercing.

Behind a thicket, he found a unicorn with its legs broken, writhing in pain. Its horn glowed with milky-white light, bright and dazzling, but its life force was rapidly fading.

Before it stood a black-robed wizard, wand raised. Vines were slithering around the unicorn's neck, lifting it off the ground.

Harry frowned deeply.

There were many ways to kill a unicorn—why use such a cruel method?

Raising his wand, Harry aimed at the wizard and incanted, "Expulso!"

The forceful blast spell shot out like an arrow of invisible magic.

The black-robed wizard reacted instantly, his left hand flicking to summon an iron shield that absorbed the spell.

The vines holding the unicorn, however, remained unaffected. The creature's neck rose higher, and its life force grew weaker.

"Who's there?" The wizard's voice was sharp and commanding. He didn't retaliate immediately, conserving his strength for the task at hand. To him, nothing was more important than killing the unicorn.

Harry aimed his wand again, this time not at the wizard but at the vines.

"Diffindo!"

The vines were severed.

The unicorn crashed to the ground, barely alive but still breathing.

The failure enraged the wizard. He raised his wand toward the thicket and screamed, "Fiendfyre!"

Black flames roared to life, consuming the thicket in seconds and spreading with terrifying speed.

Harry, who had already darted aside, felt his heart race.

What kind of flame was this?

Its malevolence was so overwhelming that it made him feel sick.

The powerful spell took its toll on the wizard. His breathing grew heavier.

"You fool!" A second voice rasped, rough and furious. "Forget about the student! Just let me drink the blood!"

"But, Master," the wizard stammered, "it's not dead yet…"

"The curse is potent enough. If Dumbledore shows up, we won't escape. Just a little blood is all I need to regain some strength!"

The rasping voice made Harry's scar twinge painfully.

The wizard hesitated no longer, bending over the unicorn and sinking his teeth into its neck. The sacred creature let out a pitiful whimper, unable to resist as its blood was drained.

Fiendfyre gathered around the wizard, forming a protective circle.

Harry shot two dazzling green sparks into the air with his wand.

"There he is!" the rasping voice growled, now stronger.

The wizard directed the Fiendfyre toward the signal, but it met only empty air.

"You idiot! He's using Disillusionment Charms, potions, or an Invisibility Cloak!" the voice snarled. "You can't see him. You're no match for him!"

Realizing his mistake, the wizard raised his wand high. "Finite Incantatem!"

With a surge of raw magic, the raging flames froze, then gradually died out. The forest fell eerily silent, save for the rustling leaves.

Still, no figure appeared.

"If you're so incompetent, turn around, fool!" the rasping voice spat.

Too late.

Harry whipped off his cloak, wand aimed at the wizard. But instead of casting a spell, he extended his free hand.

Aard!

The blast of kinetic energy sent the wizard sprawling, his protective spell shattering like glass.

Harry drew his sword and drove it into the man's side.

Blood spurted from the wound.

He pulled back for a second strike, aiming for the head, intending to end it.

The wizard, however, was no mere amateur. With a quick flick of his wand, his robes twisted and stretched into withered, claw-like hands, seizing Harry's wrist and halting the blow.

In that moment of hesitation, the wizard's body dissolved into black smoke and vanished into the shadows of the forest.

The clawed robes reverted to fabric and fell lifelessly to the ground.

He escaped.

Harry remained on high alert, crouching with his sword at the ready. He muttered a spell, and the fabric swirled around him, searching the scorched earth.

In the distance came heavy footsteps, barking dogs, the sound of hooves, and—most unnervingly—a sudden, powerful surge of magic.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light shot toward Harry.

Time seemed to freeze as the killing curse streaked toward him. Prepared, Harry dove to the side. The spell struck the ground, erupting in an explosion that sent soil flying.

Bleeding and furious, the enemy wasn't giving up.

The noise drew closer, accompanied by Hagrid's voice. "Who's there—Harry?"

"Hagrid?" Harry called back.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" Hagrid asked, his tone stern.

"Never mind that. Can you help the unicorn?" Harry gestured to the wounded creature.

Hagrid bent down, examining the unicorn's injuries. One look was enough to make him roar in outrage.

"Who would do such a thing? Just look at these wounds—and its neck—"

He stopped, staring at the bite marks.

"Someone's drinking unicorn blood?" Hagrid's voice trembled in horror.

Harry nodded, still alert. "I saw it with my own eyes. Them, actually."

"Who?"

"I don't know." Harry shook his head. "We need to tell Dumbledore."

Hagrid hoisted the unicorn onto his shoulders. The terrified creature struggled but settled as Hagrid whispered soothingly.

"It's okay, baby. Don't be scared. I'm taking you to get help. Trust me, you know me, don't you?"

"You know it?" Harry asked.

"I've helped their herd before, especially the foals," Hagrid said proudly.

The unicorn relaxed as they headed toward the castle.

Just as Harry reached for his cloak, another killing curse shot toward him.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light hurtled forward.

"No!" Hagrid bellowed.

Harry, ever vigilant, rolled to the side, dodging it again.

"Unforgivable Curses!" Hagrid's voice quivered. "Who is it?"

"Let's go!" Harry urged.

Though he had tracked the enemy's foul, blood-soaked scent, now wasn't the time for heroics.

At eleven years old, some battles were better left to the grown-ups.

The attacker didn't pursue. Harry and Hagrid retreated to the castle, the Invisibility Cloak concealing them. Only once they were safely inside did they breathe easier.

They went straight to the Headmaster's office.

When the stone gargoyle passed on their message, they were met by Dumbledore in a

starry nightgown, holding what looked like a cup of syrup.

"Hagrid, Harry," Dumbledore yawned. "Disturbing an old man's sleep isn't very polite. Especially you, Harry. At this hour, you should be in bed."

Harry shot back, "And you shouldn't be drinking syrup."

Hagrid interrupted nervously, "Professor, you're aware of the unicorn attacks in the Forbidden Forest. Tonight, I saw spellfire and hurried over. I found Harry—and a dying unicorn—and a dark wizard who cast the killing curse!"

The killing curse?

Dumbledore's expression turned grim.