Hogwarts' Golden Glory

A golden-red fire dragon suddenly pounced on the man in black robes from the side.

The intense heat of the flames distorted the surrounding air.

Harry turned his head and saw Professor Quirrell in disbelief.

Professor Quirrell, who usually stutters even when chanting incantations.

He strode over, his wand pointing steadily at his target.

His face showed none of his usual timidity, but rather an almost elegant composure.

"There's an opening on your left, Severus."

Quirrell's voice was deep and clear, completely unlike his usual timid and submissive demeanor.

With a flick of his wrist, another precise binding spell flew toward the man in black robes.

A gentle breeze wafted by, carrying a faint scent of magic potion.

Snape's nostrils twitched almost imperceptibly.

A mixture of mandrake leaves and ginger root—a recipe he knew all too well.

Just a few days ago, he and Kane had mixed up a euphoric drug.

He already knew who the medicine was for.

So during the brewing process, he deliberately made the medicine taste a little more bitter.

(Is it Kane Malfoy?) Snape's thoughts raced. (But that's impossible!)

The attack by the man in black interrupted Snape's thoughts.

A crimson curse grazed his shoulder, corroding a smoking hole in the oak tree behind him.

While the man in black robes was making his move, Quirrell was not idle either.

His wand traced a clean arc and struck the opponent's thigh with pinpoint accuracy.

There were no superfluous movements; every single one was remarkably efficient.

"Good teamwork, Quirinas."

Snape deliberately used Quirrell's name to test the waters, while closely observing Quirrell's reaction.

Quirrell's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, but his hands continued moving without stopping.

"Focus on the enemy, Severus. This guy is more troublesome than we thought."

The black-robed man's movements suddenly froze for a moment.

Beneath the rotting hood, a pair of scarlet eyes were fixed on Quirrell, and an almost tangible dark magic trembled in the air.

"It's you again..." The black-robed man's voice carried a hint of anger.

"It was you last time... my crown..."

Kane's wand paused slightly, a sense of foreboding creeping into his heart.

How did the other party know that his crown was destroyed by him?

A bolt of black lightning suddenly burst forth from the black robe, and Kane swiftly swung his staff to block it.

The moment the two magical forces collided, all the fallen leaves in the entire forest were suspended in mid-air and then turned into dust.

Snape's pupils contracted sharply—this level of magical collision was something no ordinary student could achieve.

Snape's wand immediately created a silver protective barrier in front of Harry.

"You think you can stop me with such a little trick?" The man in black robes spoke with a hint of madness.

Kane immediately said, "Dumbledore will soon notice what's going on here—"

Before the words were finished, a clear phoenix cry suddenly came from the direction of the castle in the distance.

The man in black robes visibly trembled, and his attack momentarily faltered.

Kane seized the opportunity, his wand tracing a perfect arc: "Immediate Imprisonment!"

Silver chains suddenly rose from the ground, but the man in black robes had already turned into a cloud of black mist.

The chains only bound an empty black robe.

A wisp of black mist was gradually gathering and flying toward Harry's location.

Fortunately, the black mist did not harm Harry.

"It's trying to escape!" Snape shouted, and a silver beam shot towards the center of the black mist.

But Quirrell suddenly reached out and stopped him: "Don't chase after them! There's a curse in the fog!"

In that brief moment of hesitation, the man in black robes had completely turned into black mist.

At the last moment, a distorted voice came from within the mist: "We'll meet again soon..."

The man in black robes quickly disappeared.

Only the traces of the magic strike and a few drops of silvery-white unicorn blood on the ground proved that the other party had once existed.

Snape rushed to the unconscious Neville, pressing his finger against his carotid artery: "Just unconscious, no danger to his life."

He looked up, his sharp gaze piercing Quirrell.

"What a...unexpected rescue, Quirinas. I wonder if Dumbledore is aware of your hidden...combat talent?"

"Quillo"—or rather, Kane disguised as Quirrell—narrowed his eyes slightly.

This expression looked particularly out of place on the real Quirrell face.

"Everyone has secrets, Severus," he said meaningfully, walking towards Harry and extending his hand. "Are you alright, Potter?"

Harry grasped the hand blankly and was gently pulled up.

The Professor Quirrell before me was a completely different person—his back was straight, his eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable sense of power emanating from his hand.

The strangest thing was that when he got close, Harry smelled a faint scent of potion, which was completely unlike the usual garlic smell.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry stammered.

Quirrell didn't say anything more. He turned and strode quickly toward the dying unicorn.

Under the moonlight, silver blood congealed into beads on its snow-white fur, like scattered stars.

Snape followed, his black robes billowing in the night wind.

He crouched down to examine the wound, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper: "The curse of dark magic has eroded the internal organs... ordinary healing spells are ineffective."

"Quillo"—or rather, Kane disguised as Quirrell—did not respond.

His slender fingers gently stroked the unicorn's trembling neck, the movement incredibly tender.

"I need... unicorn tears." Kane's voice, with its characteristic tremor, remained trembling. "Is that alright...?"

He then took out a small crystal bottle from his pocket.

"Shh...it's okay..." he murmured, rubbing the base of the horn with his fingertips.

The unicorn struggled to lift its head, and large, glistening tears welled up in its violet eyes.

Kane slightly turned his wrist, and the crystal bottle precisely caught three teardrops.

Just then, a clear and melodious cry suddenly rang out from the night sky.

A streak of red and blue light pierced the darkness, falling to the ground like a shooting star.

After the light faded, a small phoenix appeared beside the unicorn, its tail feathers still bearing a few wisps of lingering flame.

"Igor..." Kane called softly from his disguise, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

It was Igor's shout that made Voldemort think Dumbledore was coming.

The little phoenix tilted its head and glanced at "Qiro," its eyes sparkling with wisdom that surpassed that of birds.

It suddenly spread its wings and shed a few golden tears on the unicorn's deepest wound.

The cursed and corroded flesh began to heal at a visible speed, and the silver fur regained its luster.

Snape's wand unconsciously rose half an inch: "Phoenix..."

His gaze swept back and forth between "Kirlo" and the little phoenix.

Those eyes already understood something.