Erwin lingered in conversation with Quirrell a while longer. With Voldemort's constant surveillance before, they hadn't shared a proper chat. This time, though, Voldemort had taken a severe blow, creating an unexpected opportunity. They talked freely for nearly half an hour.
Under Quirrell's reluctant gaze, Erwin finally dismissed him back to his office. The professor kept glancing over his shoulder, clearly eager to continue. But Erwin had said his piece.
As Quirrell disappeared into the castle, Erwin checked the time. Nearly two in the morning. He sighed—what a grueling night.
Still, duty called. With a snap of his fingers, a swirling vortex engulfed him. Moments later, he reappeared at the site of Voldemort's clash with the Unicorn King.
The ground bore scorch marks from the battle. The Unicorn King rested beneath a tree, its horn sparking faintly as Erwin materialized.
"It's me!" Erwin called quickly.
The sparks faded at his voice. "Young wizard, you've returned!"
Erwin nodded, catching the Bowtruckle that scampered toward him from the underbrush. "How are you holding up? Any serious injuries?"
The Unicorn King shook its mane, snorted, and rose. "Just a graze from some flying debris. It'll heal soon enough."
Erwin examined the hind leg—a small, dried bloodstain marred the silvery coat. What a shame to see unicorn blood go to waste. He flicked his wrist, producing two Muggle bandages. "Here, these are brilliant for surface wounds. Quick and effective."
The unicorn eyed them curiously. "How does one apply them? Are they ingested?"
Erwin chuckled, scratching his head. Of course—a creature without hands. "No need to worry. Come closer, and I'll handle it. Just don't zap me."
The Unicorn King approached without protest, extending its hind leg. Erwin blinked in surprise. Magical creatures weren't known for docility; he'd heard tales of them lashing out. But this one stood calmly.
He affixed the bandages in an X shape over the wound. From afar, it resembled a quirky patch, almost comical against the unicorn's majestic form.
"There we go," Erwin said, giving the flank a casual pat.
He froze, wand already half-drawn. That slap had been instinctive—a bad habit from roughhousing with farm animals back home. If the unicorn retaliated with lightning...
But it merely shifted its weight, unperturbed. Erwin exhaled in relief and settled onto a nearby stump, still warm from a lightning strike. Oddly soothing.
The Unicorn King tested its leg. "I feel no change."
"These aren't potions," Erwin explained. "They're infused with healing herbs to speed recovery without side effects."
The unicorn nodded. "We forage such plants in the Forbidden Forest often. But many carry hidden toxins alongside their benefits."
"That's your gift," Erwin replied enviously. "Discerning a herb's true nature—something wizards can only dream of."
"Speaking of which," the Unicorn King said, "do you know that dark wizard?"
"Enough to know he's a monster on borrowed time," Erwin said grimly. "He needs unicorn blood to cling to life, so he targeted you. Your charge was brave but risky. I meant for the Bowtruckle to fetch you so I could handle him myself—he's no match for me now. Using a mare as bait could have gone horribly wrong; he's ruthless."
The unicorn dipped its head. "My error. I underestimated his power—it was overwhelming. His strength is diminished, thankfully, or I might not have survived."
"He won't trouble you soon," Erwin assured it. "He's too weakened to brave the Forest again, knowing you're here. Still, keep your herd close; stragglers could draw him out. If I hear anything, the Bowtruckle will alert you."
"Thank you, young wizard."
Erwin waved it off. "No need. I won't stand by while noble creatures like you suffer."
The Unicorn King regarded him steadily. "We owe you a debt, Erwin. I acknowledge you as kin."
Erwin rolled his eyes. Acknowledgment from a beast? What use was that—no tangible reward.
Before he could voice the thought, the unicorn bowed its head low. Lightning crackled along its horn.
Erwin tensed, wand at the ready. "Easy now—what's this? Biting the hand that helps?"
The lightning intensified, and a shimmering droplet of silvery blood welled at the horn's tip. It hovered, then drifted toward Erwin.
He had no time to dodge. The drop touched his forehead, but an instant later, a searing heat bloomed there. Crimson blood erupted from his skin, splintering the unicorn blood into mist.
Both stared in shock.
"What in Merlin's name?" Erwin demanded, touching his brow. It stung, but the mark had vanished.
The Unicorn King hesitated, eyes wide. "You... you're a Dragon Speaker?"
Erwin frowned. "A what?"
"Don't you know your own heritage?"
He shook his head. "Enlighten me."
The unicorn's gaze turned reverent. "A Dragon Speaker is a rare bloodline gift—ancient and potent. I know little of its depths, but those who bear it command immense power. Yours seems dormant, though. I performed our clan's bonding rite; that blood should have marked you as a friend to all unicorns, even beyond my herd."
Erwin's mind raced. Dormant bloodline? Dragons? It explained the odd reaction, but stirred more questions than answers. The night suddenly felt heavier with secrets.
...
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