---
The Great Hall buzzed with morning energy, students chatting over breakfast, but Harry barely paid attention. He had just received his detention notice from Snape, a brief sneer accompanying it. He had almost forgotten about it.
Across the table, Hermione was watching him—not with admiration, but scrutiny. Her spoon stirred aggressively in her porridge, though she hadn't taken a single bite.
"You do realize she's been staring at you all morning, don't you?"
Harry blinked, shifting his gaze slightly to the Gryffindor table. Sure enough, Lavender Brown was practically glowing as she whispered something excitedly to Parvati Patil. The moment Harry glanced her way, she flushed and quickly looked down, giggling into her hands.
Harry smirked. "I can't help it if people admire me."
"Admire?" Hermione scoffed, leaning closer. "She's practically worshipping you. Last night, she wouldn't stop talking about how brave you were. And just this morning, she asked Parvati if she thought you had a girlfriend."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "And you care because…?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly. The tip of her ears turned pink, but her glare didn't waver.
"Because it's strange," she said, sounding a bit too defensive. "Gryffindors don't usually throw themselves at Slytherins, especially not ones like you. She should hate you. Instead, she's acting like…"
"Like what?" Harry leaned in, his smirk widening.
Hermione huffed and turned back to her breakfast. "Never mind," she muttered, stabbing at her toast.
Harry chuckled. Was that jealousy?
Daphne, sitting beside him, finally chimed in, her voice cool and amused. "She's obsessed with you now, Potter. You did just slay a troll in front of her."
"Saved her," Harry corrected.
Daphne's lips curled. "Same thing, in her eyes. If you wanted, you could make her yours."
Harry considered that. Lavender was an airheaded Gryffindor, but she could be useful. A tool to manipulate perceptions, to make himself look even more heroic—or to cause friction within Gryffindor itself.
"Not interested," he said lazily.
"Yet," Daphne murmured, smirking.
---
At eleven o'clock, Harry stood in the Entrance Hall .
"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.
"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you,
eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes . . . hard work and pain are the best
teachers if you ask me. . . . It's just a pity they let the old punishments die
out . . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the
chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed. . . .
Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if
you do."
Harry didn't react. He had bigger concerns than Filch's nostalgia for medieval torture.
He marched off across the dark grounds
The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them
into darkness. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut.
Then they heard a distant shout.
"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
Harry followed, stepping into the cold night air. The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, dark and pulsing with unseen life.
Filch smirked at him. "Hope you come back in one piece, Potter."
Harry almost smiled. You should be more worried about what comes out, Filch.
---
They walked deeper into the woods, where the moon barely touched the forest floor. Harry's sharp eyes immediately caught the glowing silver blood splattered along the roots of an ancient tree.
Hagrid started ,"See that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery
stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by
summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday.
We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its
misery."
Harry crouched, running a finger through the shimmering liquid. It pulsed with unnatural energy.
Voldemort.
The thought was immediate, certain. Could he already be this desperate? Drinking unicorn blood to stay alive?
Hagrid continued forward, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. If Voldemort was already preying on unicorns, then he was far more fragile than the original timeline suggested. Perhaps, with the right push, Harry could speed up the Dark Lord's downfall—or use him for his own ends.
A snap of a branch.
Hagrid 's head jerked up. They weren't alone.
---
A figure stepped into their path, a centaur, tall and muscular with a flowing mane. His deep, unsettling eyes scanned Harry with curiosity.
"Mars is bright tonight," the centaur—Ronan—said gravely, staring up at the sky.
Hagrid sighed. "Ronan, not now. We're lookin' for—"
"It means war," Ronan continued, his voice heavy. "Death. Always, the innocent suffer first."
Harry met his gaze and felt a strange chill.
Does he mean the unicorns… or something else?
Hagrid didn't notice the tension, already waving Ronan off as they continued deeper into the trees. But Harry glanced back once—only to see Ronan still watching him, his expression unreadable.
---
The clearing ahead was eerily silent. Moonlight bathed the grass in pale silver, highlighting the twisted, lifeless body of a unicorn sprawled on the ground.
Harry's breath slowed. There you are.
A shuffling noise. A slithering.
Then he saw it.
A hooded figure crawled forward, moving with an inhuman, beastlike grace. It lowered its head over the unicorn's wound—and began to drink.
The sound of it—wet, desperate—made something dark stir within Harry.
The figure froze.
Then, slowly, it turned its head toward him.
A presence like death itself washed over the clearing.
"Potter."
A whisper, rasping, decayed.
---
---
The Forbidden Forest was unnaturally still, the only sound being the faint rustling of leaves in the midnight breeze. The silver glow of unicorn blood stained the forest floor, a haunting contrast against the shadows stretching between the trees.
Harry stood at the edge of the clearing, his emerald gaze cold and calculating. His wand rested lightly in his grip, but power crackled beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed.
The hooded figure over the fallen unicorn stirred. Slowly, it straightened, its movements inhumanly smooth.
Then the hood fell.
Professor Quirrell.
Only… he wasn't twitching. He wasn't nervous.
"Me," Quirrell said smoothly, stepping forward. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
Harry's fingers didn't so much as twitch, but his entire body thrummed with readiness. His mind was already working through a dozen spells, counters, and contingencies.
Quirrell tilted his head. "You seem… unbothered."
Harry smirked. "You're the one shaking in his boots, not me."
Quirrell chuckled. "Bravery? Or arrogance?" His eyes darkened. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to kill you tonight."
He snapped his fingers.
From thin air, serpentine ropes burst forth, lashing towards Harry like coiling vipers.
Harry didn't even blink.
"Diffindo Maxima!"
A single flick of his wand—and the ropes shattered mid-air, cut into fine dust that dispersed into the wind.
Quirrell's expression twitched. "Impressive."
Harry took a single step forward. "You let the troll in, didn't you?"
"Certainly." Quirrell smirked. "I have a gift with trolls. But not only did my troll fail to kill you—"
He clapped his hands once.
The air exploded.
A shockwave of dark magic surged toward Harry, twisting the very space around it.
Harry raised his wand, eyes gleaming.
"Protego Diabolica!"
The shimmering shield of blue fire erupted in front of him, swallowing the dark blast entirely, leaving not even a whisper of its existence.
Quirrell's eyes widened slightly. "You shouldn't know that spell."
Harry smirked. "I know a lot of things."
The Fight Begins
Quirrell snarled, flicking his wand sharply. "Confringo!"
A roaring fireball erupted from his wand, spiraling towards Harry like a meteor.
Harry didn't flinch.
"Glacius Torrens!"
A wave of ice shot forward, not just blocking the flames but turning them into a frozen explosion mid-air, shards of ice raining down around them.
Quirrell's lips curled into a snarl. He twirled his wand. "Serpensortia Maledicta!"
From his wand, a massive shadow serpent emerged, its body made of living darkness, hissing with fangs dripping venom.
Harry's eyes flashed.
"Fulgaris Lancea!"
A spear of pure lightning crackled into existence at the tip of his wand before he thrust it forward.
The spear pierced straight through the serpent, exploding it into black mist.
Quirrell barely had time to react before Harry flicked his wand again. "Expulso Vortex!"
The ground beneath Quirrell detonated.
A violent shockwave sent him flying backward, crashing through the undergrowth.
Harry stalked forward. "You're awfully quiet, professor."
Quirrell coughed, staggering to his feet, his hand gripping his turban. "You… are not normal."
Harry chuckled darkly. "Neither are you."
Quirrell's eyes flashed. "Then let's stop pretending."
With a vicious rip, he tore off his turban.
And on the back of his head—
A face.
Pale, ghastly, inhuman. Red, slitted eyes burning with malevolence.
Voldemort.
"Harry Potter…" the face hissed, its voice chilling and distorted. "See what I have become?"
"I've seen worse," Harry replied, unshaken.
Voldemort sneered. "Bravado." His eyes glowed. "But I will break you."
Quirrell raised his wand. "Morsmordre Tenebrae!"
A wave of pure darkness erupted from his wand, tendrils of black mist twisting and writhing like cursed hands.
Harry thrust his wand forward.
"Lumen Sanctus!"
A pillar of golden light surged from his wand, colliding with the darkness.
The forest shook. The ground cracked beneath their feet.
But Harry pushed forward.
The golden light consumed the darkness, tearing it apart.
Quirrell snarled. "Impossible—!"
Harry vanished.
A flicker of movement—then he reappeared behind Quirrell.
"Sectumsempra!"
A flash of silver—
Quirrell screamed as deep, invisible slashes tore across his chest, blood spraying across the ground.
He collapsed, gasping.
Voldemort hissed. "No—this is not how it ends—"
"It is."
Harry raised his wand.
"Incendio Crematum!"
A pillar of white-hot flames engulfed Quirrell, burning him alive.
His screams echoed through the forest, a wretched, agonized sound—
And then—
Silence.
The body collapsed into ash.
A shadow—Voldemort's essence— howled as it tried to flee, but the moment it left the corpse—
A silver arrow shot through it.
The wraith-like form shattered.
Harry turned.
Centaurs stood at the edge of the clearing, bows drawn.
One of them, Firenze, lowered his bow. "It is done."
A heavy silence followed.
Then—
"Harry!"
Hagrid crashed through the trees, his crossbow raised—only to freeze at the sight before him.
Quirrell was gone. Ash. Nothing more.
And Harry stood in the center, unscathed, surrounded by the watching centaurs.
Hagrid's eyes widened.
"Harry are you okay?" Hagrid asked worried.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said lying on the ground looking exhausted.
"You fought him? How?" Hagrid asked.
"It doesn't matter, I just need to get back," Harry said, pulling himself up.
"You fought Quirrell. He had Voldemort's spirit attached to him. How do—?"
"I don't expect anything, Ronan. I killed him. I can go back to dungeons." Harry snapped, walking forward, but the centaurs barred his path.
He tried to walk around them, but they cut him off, and Harry pulled his wand out again. He'd had enough of this fucking forest.
"No. You will not pass, boy." Bane's voice rumbled.
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Until you have answered our questions."
Harry cursed. "I don't have time for this."
"But you do, Mr Potter," Firenze said. "So, how did you kill Quirrell?"
"I cast a spell to send Voldemort's spirit away, then burned Quirrell alive." He told them in a flat tone.
Bane snorted. "That's impossible, there is no such spell."
"Well, I used it. Now, let me go."
"Ok." Ronan said, stepping back.
Harry didn't question him. He just turned and walk back to the castle.
The castle was empty, the teachers and students long since returned to their chambers for the night. The moon shone through the windows, casting a soft, pale glow on the deserted corridors. Harry walked back to the Slytherin dorms, his footsteps echoing through the silence. The only sound was the distant ticking of a grandfather clock, reminding him of the late hour.
"Psst... Harry!" a hushed voice called out.
He stopped in his tracks, turning to see who it was. A figure emerged from the shadows, and he recognized it as Lavender. Her eyes were wide and she looked flustered. "Lavender, what's wrong?"
"I-I had a nightmare," she stuttered. "I thought I saw something in the mirror, something that shouldn't be there."
"It's probably just the moon playing tricks on you," Harry said, "Let's go back to the dorms."
But she grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. "No, Harry, I don't think so. I think it was a warning." Her voice was trembling. "Can we go somewhere else?"
Intrigued and amused by her urgency and unable to resist her pleading gaze, Harry nodded. "Alright, let's go........
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