After Erwin finished speaking, Voldemort's bruised face darkened even further under the lingering sting of the lightning strike. Erwin suppressed a chuckle.
He hadn't anticipated the unicorn pulling off such a devastating counter. Recalling the beast's parting shot, a shiver ran down his spine. It was downright terrifying.
As lightning crackled along the unicorn's horn, tendrils of electricity snaked outward. In an instant, bolts swept across the ground like a storm unleashed, turning the battlefield into a crackling hazard. If the creature hadn't spared him, Erwin might have been caught in it too. The raw power was staggering.
No wonder unicorns ranked as dangerous magical creatures—this wasn't mere peril; it was a force of nature. Erwin shuddered, though envy crept in. That command over lightning was something to covet.
Voldemort spoke coldly. "Damn beast! I never expected to cross paths with a unicorn herd leader in the Forbidden Forest. Something's off about today. Erwin, head back. I need time to regroup."
Erwin had no qualms. "Alright, Master. I'll take my leave."
"Practice the Killing Curse incantation when you return," Voldemort instructed. "I don't fault you for lacking real combat experience with it this time. But don't let it happen again."
Erwin nodded. "I'm sorry, Master. I was useless."
Voldemort sighed. "It's not your fault—you're just starting out. Now go. I must restore my soul power. I won't be teaching you for a week. Seek me out once you've claimed your spot as a true Slytherin prefect."
Erwin bowed. "Yes, Master."
Voldemort's presence faded into dormancy. Quirrell's awareness resurfaced.
"Thank you, Erwin," Quirrell said.
Erwin frowned.
Quirrell hurried to reassure him. "Don't worry—the Dark Lord's in deep slumber now. This fight drained his soul too much. Even he couldn't have foreseen it."
"No one else will know about our talk?" Erwin pressed. "You're certain?"
Quirrell nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. He possesses my body, so I sense his weakness—like a flickering candle in the wind. Without rest, he could vanish entirely."
Relief eased Erwin's tension. This bought him time, free from immediate scrutiny by Voldemort. As for Quirrell lying? Unlikely. The professor had no motive, and Erwin's earlier aid had sealed their bond. Help in desperation lingered longer than flattery ever could.
"He's just resting to rebuild his soul power?" Erwin asked.
Quirrell shook his head bitterly. "No. He still draws from my soul energy."
Erwin's brow furrowed. "That'll weaken you?"
"Yes," Quirrell admitted. "It'll sap my magic reserves."
That wouldn't do. A diminished Quirrell was no use in Erwin's plans. The man needed to stay viable.
"Why did you get tangled in this?" Erwin asked.
Quirrell's smile was wry. "My own hubris. In the Forbidden Forest, vampires and werewolves ambushed me. He saved my life. On death's door, I agreed to his terms—signed an ancient curse. My fate's tied to his now."
"How do you break it?"
"I'm grateful, Erwin, and I know you want to help. But it's impossible. Only death or his willing departure—and neither will happen. I just hope he'll release me once his goal's met."
Erwin nodded thoughtfully. "I have ideas, but timing's key. For Voldemort, I'll approach Professor Snape tomorrow. He'll brew vitality potions to keep your strength up."
Quirrell's eyes widened. "No, you can't go to Snape. He suspects me already. If he learns you're aiding me, it'll drag you down. He has no proof yet, but he's watching closely. I won't let this touch you."
Erwin waved it off. "I'm sure of it. Snape's my godfather—he'll back me. Trust this: I'll fix it. But you must play along fully. Act normal; if the Dark Lord senses anything off, we're both done. Understood?"
Quirrell nodded. "I do. Rest easy—I won't let harm come to you. I'll protect you however I can."
Erwin's lips curved. "Thank you, Professor. You're a fine teacher. No—in my eyes, the finest."
Quirrell's eyes misted over. "The finest?"
Recognition had always eluded him, driving his ill-fated quest into the Forbidden Forest's perils. He knew the risks—vampires, witches, werewolves turning it into a slaughterhouse—yet he'd plunged in, chasing growth. A Ravenclaw orphan, risen by sheer grit, all to prove himself as an educator.
Erwin nearly teared up at the raw humanity of it. Quirrell had given his all; fate had simply been cruel.