Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 116 The Unicorn's True Recognition

Henry stood there, looking at Dumbledore.

After a moment, he lowered his gaze and looked at the ring on his hand.

The ring had lost its luster, looking like an ordinary old silver ornament; even the snake's eyes made of green gemstones had lost their original shine.

He understood that Dumbledore was right—he needed to know what he was capable of.

"Professor," he finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse, "you knew all along that Quirrell had something wrong with him, didn't you?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"I knew it from the beginning."

"Then why don't you—"

"Why not expose him?" Dumbledore finished the question for him. "Because exposing one Quirrell won't solve the problem. Voldemort will find another Quirrell, and another Quirrell after that. As long as his soul remains, he will always be looking for an opportunity."

He gazed at Henry, and there was something indescribable in the light.

"I need a chance to make him truly disappear."

Henry suddenly realized: "You mean—"

Dumbledore nodded.

"What you just did is something I've always wanted to do, but never been able to."

His gaze fell on the open space, where there was a deep ravine, the soil churned up, tree roots exposed, as if torn apart by some violent force, with faint wisps of smoke rising from its edges.

"A fragment of Voldemort's soul has always been attached to Quirrell," Dumbledore said softly. "I can banish him with magic, but I cannot destroy him. The power that ring gave you has done what I could not."

Henry fell silent.

He didn't speak for a long time.

"Professor," he said, "that unicorn—"

"It's alright," Dumbledore said. "It broke free of the Imperius Curse; it was its own will, and you gave it the power."

Henry nodded, and asked no further questions.

Dumbledore reached out and gently patted his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said. "It's getting dark, and Hagrid and the others will be here soon."

They walked together out of the forbidden forest, the fallen leaves rustling under their feet.

After taking a few steps, Dumbledore suddenly stopped.

"Henry," he said, "there's something I want to tell you."

Henry looked at him.

"What is it?"

Dumbledore looked at him, his eyes shining with a gentle light.

I'm proud of you.

Henry was stunned.

"Come on," Dumbledore said with a smile, "dinner will be starting soon."

They took a few more steps when they suddenly heard a rustling sound behind them.

Henry turned around, and the unicorn was struggling to its feet.

It was still wounded, its white mane stained with mud and blood, some strands even matted into dull silver. Its four legs trembled slightly, shaking with every effort, as if it might collapse again at any moment.

But it supported itself on the ground and slowly stood up.

It looked at Henry with clear, bright eyes.

It slowly walked towards Henry, each step somewhat difficult, but it did not stop, its gaze fixed on Henry, never looking away.

When it reached Henry, it lowered its head and gently nuzzled Henry's shoulder with its head.

The movement was exactly the same as before, yet completely different.

In the past, it was controlled, like a pre-programmed program.

Now, it's its own choice.

Henry reached out and gently stroked its neck.

The unicorn let out a soft hiss, rested its head on his shoulder, and closed its eyes.

Dumbledore stood aside, watching the scene quietly.

"It's free," he whispered. "Truly free."

Henry nodded.

He stroked the unicorn's mane, and the unicorn trembled slightly, but did not pull away; instead, it pressed its head closer to him.

"Go," he said softly, "they are waiting for you."

The unicorn opened its eyes and looked at him.

It nuzzled against him again, then shook its head.

Henry understood what it meant.

Oh, I'm not leaving.

"Since it doesn't want to leave, you can take it with you for now," Dumbledore said opportunely. "Doesn't your protected area need some magical creatures? I think a unicorn would be a great example."

There was one more thing he didn't say: unicorns played a significant role in enhancing the image of the royal family.

Dumbledore was right; Quirrell was probably dead.

The news spread throughout the school the next day.

At breakfast time, owls circled overhead as usual, and letters and packages fell down.

But no one's attention was on those things—Professor McGonagall had just stepped onto the faculty seat, her expression more serious than usual.

She tapped the glass, the crisp sound silencing the entire hall.

"It is with great regret that I inform you," her voice was solemn, "that Professor Quirrell tragically passed away last night in an accident in the Forbidden Forest."

A buzz of discussion erupted in the hall.

The professor died, just like Slark, quietly passing away in a corner no one cared about—that in itself was big news.

"I cannot disclose specific details," Professor McGonagall continued, completely ignoring the students whispering among themselves. "The school will arrange substitute teachers as soon as possible, so please focus on your studies."

She didn't say another word and sat down to eat her breakfast.

Professor Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the man who always stuttered and wore a purple turban, simply vanished from sight.

No one knows the details, no one knows exactly what happened.

The students discussed it animatedly; some felt sorry, some were curious, and some simply treated it as news and moved on.

Henry sat at the Slytherin table, quietly eating his breakfast.

Draco leaned closer and whispered, "That stuttering professor? Dead? How did he die?"

"I don't know." Pansy pouted and poked at the sausage on her plate with her fork. "Anyway, he's not a good person. He's always acting strangely. I don't think he's a good person."

Daphne didn't speak, but just glanced at Henry.

Henry didn't look at her, but continued eating his breakfast without any expression on his face.

He knows the truth, but he can't say it, at least not now.

Some things are better left unsaid.

The days that followed went as usual.

It's just that one person is missing, someone who wasn't important to begin with.

And deep within the forbidden forest, a deep ravine has been added.

The ravine was long and deep, as if it had been shaped by something.

The surrounding trees were leaning to one side or the other, some even uprooted and lying on the ground.

Every time Hagrid patrolled past that area, he would shake his head, mutter "strange," and then walk away quickly.

His hunting dog, Tooth, refused to come near, and would tuck its tail between its legs and whimper as it ran away whenever it got close.

.