In a small cabin in Dorset.
"Newt, are you done?"
Hearing his wife's call, Newt replied quickly,
"Alright, my dear, I'm coming to bed now."
He flicked his wand, and the water stains on his clothes dried at once.
It was recently the mating season for the Hippocampi, and he had to keep a constant watch to stop them from turning the water world upside down and affecting nearby spaces.
"Mr. Newt!"
Hearing the familiar voice, Newt looked up to see a light-golden figure appear directly in front of him.
A little surprised that Lumen hadn't knocked this time, Newt still smiled as he asked, "Oh, Lumen, did Lucien send you again—"
Before he could finish, Lumen interrupted anxiously.
"Mr. Newt, the unicorn in the Forbidden Forest....."
As Lumen briefly summarized the key details of what had happened, he handed over the piece of parchment resting on the auspicious cloud to Newt.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Newt quickly scanned the contents of the parchment.
"Unicorn… labor… severe injury…"
Newt murmured to himself.
At once, he tapped his wand, and a trench coat floated onto his shoulders.
A plain brown leather suitcase flew neatly into his hand at the same time.
Instinctively, Newt prepared to Apparate straight to the Forbidden Forest.
But Lumen had already stepped forward.
In the next instant, Newt vanished from the spot.
A few minutes later.
A drowsy voice drifted from the bedroom.
"Newt, remember to go to bed early after you finish dealing with the Hippocampi…"
Receiving no answer, Tina rubbed her eyes and walked into the living room, staring at the empty space.
"Where did he go?"
…
Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, inside a cave.
A green flame faintly illuminated the dim interior.
"Quirrell" waved his wand expressionlessly, stopping the bleeding from his severed arm.
He then stripped away the silver-white, viscous liquid clinging to his robes and mask. It gathered and condensed into a blood orb suspended in midair.
In the next second, Quirrell's face twisted.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh—!!!!!!!!!!"
A hoarse, agonized cry was forced from his throat.
It was not only the pain of losing an arm; the torment of having his flesh and blood drained and converted into magic ravaged him as well.
Quirrell even felt as though his soul were being kneaded and torn apart.
He slumped weakly against the cave wall, gasping for breath.
"Drink it."
A cold, detached voice echoed within Quirrell's mind.
Hearing Lord Voldemort's command, Quirrell clenched his teeth and stared at the silver-white blood orb floating before him.
The thick, mercury-like liquid looked no different from poison.
Quirrell knew all too well the price of drinking unicorn blood.
It could prolong his crippled life—but the price was becoming a half-dead, accursed being.
Quirrell's head throbbed, the pain tearing his thoughts to pieces.
He couldn't understand.
Why?
Why had everything gone wrong tonight?
This scheme, so long in the planning, had failed completely.
He had not obtained the unicorn fetus's blood.
When confronted with that strange creature that appeared out of nowhere, Lord Voldemort had abruptly altered the plan, insisting on taking its blood instead.
And what was the result?
Quirrell's own flesh and blood had been sacrificed, driving his already decaying life to the very edge, yet the magic gained from it accomplished nothing at all.
He did not get the strange creature's blood.
No—even if he had, judging from the agonizing reaction caused by mere contact, it might not have been possible to consume it directly to aid Lord Voldemort's recovery.
Now, the only blood left was that of the male unicorn—and Quirrell himself would still have to bear the curse.
He had also lost an arm.
His life was nothing more than a candle flickering in the wind.
"If you don't drink it, you'll die tonight anyway."
Lord Voldemort's voice was utterly indifferent, paying no heed to Quirrell's thoughts—much less to his life or death.
At worst, it would simply mean finding another body and drawing up a new plan.
On the road to immortality, Lord Voldemort had already gone too far.
With so many Horcruxes in existence, who could truly kill him?
Whether Quirrell succeeded or failed did not matter. Lord Voldemort could afford to wait.
But Quirrell could not.
He had only two choices.
Drink the unicorn blood before him and prolong his shattered life.
Or let this decayed existence end in some nameless cave within the Forbidden Forest.
As Quirrell wavered in confusion and hesitation, the cluster of green flames finally went out.
No one knew how much time passed afterward.
"Gulp—"
A faint swallowing sound echoed within the cave.
…
Inside the crimson-gold barrier of flames.
Lucien's brows were tightly drawn together. With his wand, he extended more than a dozen fine strands of magic.
He was examining Seleneia and her child, stitching the wounds and using the vitality carried by the qilin saliva to accelerate healing.
Asterion paced anxiously at his side.
His injuries were comparatively light. Though his throat had been slashed and he had lost a great deal of blood, he had not been affected by Dark Arts curses or Potion toxins. Under the effects of the qilin saliva, he had already regained his ability to move.
Asterion lowered his head and gently touched his wife's long horn, releasing a hoarse, sorrowful whinny.
Lucien lifted a hand and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
"The core issue is still the Potion. This compound toxin is far too difficult to remove…"
"And the fetus—aside from the physical damage, its magic circuits are affected as well. How could even its circuits be harmed?"
"The vitality contained in qilin blood far exceeds that of qilin saliva, yet it seems to have no effect on repairing magic circuits."
In the middle of treating the unicorn, Lucien suddenly sensed something and looked up.
Lumen's figure appeared, and beside him stood a tall, thin elderly man with curly hair, wearing a trench coat.
Seeing the unfamiliar human, Asterion instinctively raised his head, his horn giving off a faint reactive glow.
"Asterion!"
Lucien called out softly, stopping the unicorn. At the same time, Lumen explained that this person had come to save lives.
Asterion immediately extinguished the silver light on his horn and lowered his head toward Newt.
Newt did not speak to Lucien right away. Instead, he went straight over and knelt beside Seleneia.
With a flick of his wand, it transformed into a trumpet-like instrument, one end larger than the other.
He pressed the wider end against Seleneia's abdomen and held the narrower end to his ear.
After listening for only a moment, Newt spoke quickly.
"The fetus is full-term. Today may already be the day of delivery... But this unicorn's condition is far too poor for a natural birth."
He then pointed to the deep wound on Seleneia's abdomen.
"The fetus's condition is even more serious. We can't delay any longer. We'll need to perform a C-section right here. Mother and child will have to be treated separately!"
Lucien nodded.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Newt swiftly opened his suitcase.
A workbench flew out first, followed by various bottles, jars, and a complete set of potion-brewing tools.
He grabbed several containers, pouring out liquids and powders—some he applied to Seleneia's abdomen, others he fed directly into her mouth.
Without even lifting his head, he said,
"Please help me brew several additional Potions. The steps are...."
Lucien committed Newt's instructions to memory and immediately began processing the ingredients on the workbench.
"Mr. Newt, there's also a problem with the unicorn fetus's magic circuits. There's a clear break."
Hearing this, Newt's movements visibly faltered.
"This… but.. I've never seen anything like repairing a magic circuit."
________
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