Chapter 57
The unicorn proved far more docile than Gray had expected.
When he used his light particles to form simple animated shapes—gesturing for the unicorn to follow him out of the forest—the creature raised no objection. It simply steadied its wounded body, rose to its feet, and stood patiently at his side, waiting for him to lead the way.
Gray suspected that if he had tried to climb onto its back, the unicorn would have allowed that too.
Looking at the ugly gashes still visible along its flank, however, he quickly dismissed the idea.
The Wiggentree tubers had stopped the bleeding, but that was all they had done. The wounds would take time to heal properly. Through his magical sight, Gray could see dark, writhing threads of black magic still embedded in the injuries—slowly eating away at the unicorn's silvery, moon-like magical circuits. The unicorn's own magic was fighting back, washing against the corruption in steady pulses, but the process was slow. It would need far more time than it was likely to be given.
Voldemort clearly had no intention of waiting.
Gray scanned the surrounding trees. No sign of Voldemort. No sign of any professor either. This was the perfect moment to leave. If he could just get the unicorn out of the forest and back to the safety of Hagrid's hut, Voldemort would think twice before pursuing—unless he wanted Dumbledore to discover exactly how weak and diminished he currently was.
Gray flicked his wand. Malfoy floated toward him under a gentle Levitation Charm while Fang trotted up from behind.
The moment Malfoy drew near, the unicorn turned its head sharply. Its horn levelled at the Slytherin boy and a faint crackle of silver-blue electricity danced along the spiral.
One stray spark leapt out and struck Malfoy on the arm. He yelped—then immediately clamped both hands over his mouth, eyes wide with terror as he looked at Gray.
Gray hadn't realised unicorns possessed so many different forms of innate magic. First the healing dust, then the concealing moonlight veil, and now this. No wonder they were creatures of legend.
Still, he couldn't simply abandon Malfoy to Voldemort. He reached out slowly and rested a hand on the unicorn's forehead, stroking gently in an attempt to calm it.
The unicorn turned its gaze to Gray. Its deep black eyes met his own dark ones—two pools of night reflecting each other.
With a soft, melodic whinny the unicorn relaxed. The electricity along its horn faded. It no longer paid Malfoy any attention.
So obedient?
Gray blinked, mildly surprised.
Did he have some sort of natural affinity for magical creatures? If so, perhaps after graduation he could consider staying on at Hogwarts to teach Care of Magical Creatures. The current professor couldn't have many years left before retirement.
But now wasn't the time for daydreams. With the unicorn pacified, the priority was to move.
Gray set off toward the edge of the forest. The unicorn followed at a careful, limping pace. Malfoy stayed close behind it, while Fang brought up the rear, ears pricked and constantly checking their back trail.
This time they took a different path—one that would shave considerable time off the journey.
Malfoy walked with his left hand wrapped tightly around his right forearm. The electric jolt still stung.
Still—if this was the price of getting out of the forest alive, he would gladly pay it. He hated this place. It was cold, terrifying, and he had the most awful feeling in his gut.
The unicorn had obviously been attacked by whatever monster was out here. And now the unicorn was travelling with 'them'.
What if—
A shiver ran through him.
Ahead, Gray suddenly stopped.
Malfoy wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn't dare speak. For once he understood exactly what Gray had meant earlier: making noise in the Forbidden Forest was incredibly dangerous.
Then he heard it—a strange, sweeping sound, like enormous wings brushing through the canopy, accompanied by the rustle of thousands of leaves.
Gray halted too, brow furrowed, scanning the darkness.
Behind him the unicorn gave a low, urgent call. Its horn began to glow with soft, silvery light—moonlight made solid. The radiance spread outward, wrapping around all four of them and cloaking their forms in a veil of shimmering concealment.
This was the third spell the unicorn had used tonight—the same one that had let it evade pursuit so many times before.
But this time something was different.
The sound grew steadily closer. Closer. It was coming straight toward them.
The unicorn whipped its head around to glare at Malfoy. An angry snort escaped it; its mane flared as though it meant to charge the boy and drive him away.
Gray raised a hand to stop it. He looked at Malfoy and gave a quiet sigh.
Of course it was Malfoy who had given them away. Gray had no idea of the exact mechanism—perhaps some lingering loyalty curse passed down through the bloodline from Lucius Malfoy's days as a Death Eater. Or perhaps something else entirely.
Whatever the cause, the damage was done.
A sharp, piercing gaze stabbed into Gray like a needle. His magic surged instinctively—boiling outward in a chaotic wave that crashed against the intrusive probe and scattered it.
The next instant a tall figure draped entirely in black robes stepped out of the deepest shadows. A hood concealed the face. The figure hovered several feet above the ground, drifting forward like a wraith born of the night itself.
The unicorn let out a piercing, furious scream—full of rage and grief. Silver lightning crackled along its horn and lashed toward the floating figure.
The robed shape raised one skeletal hand in a casual gesture. The lightning veered aside, slamming into the earth with a deafening crack. A blackened crater smoked where it struck.
Gray didn't attack. Instead he pointed his wand skyward and sent up a continuous stream of red sparks. They burst high above the treetops, exploding into brilliant crimson fireworks that lit the night and marked their exact position.
There was no point hiding anymore. Voldemort had found them. Time to call for help.
A low, chilling laugh drifted from the hooded figure—hissing and wet, like a snake slithering across cold, damp stone.
"What—what in Merlin's name is that thing?" Malfoy shrieked, ducking behind the unicorn. Even when it kicked at him in irritation he refused to move.
Gray stepped in front of the unicorn, placing himself between it and the floating spectre. His magic continued to pour outward in defensive pulses, countering the needle-like stare that tried to pierce his mind.
"Pathetic tricks," a high, cold voice rasped from beneath the hood—mocking Gray's Magical Surge.
In his prime, such a feeble defence would never have stopped Voldemort's Legilimency.
But any move that worked was a good one.
Gray said nothing. There were no words worth exchanging with Voldemort.
Since fate had brought them together tonight, they would have to fight.
And it would be as good a test as any of everything Gray had trained for this term.
With a light flick of his wand, Gray rose smoothly into the air—hovering at the same height as his enemy.
Moonlight poured down from above, bathing him in silver and draping him in a cloak of pale radiance.
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