The arena was engulfed in crimson-gold flames.
The moment Selene spotted the vicious, bloody gash sliced across Astrion's throat, a heartbroken wail tore from her lips.
A fresh wave of agony ripped through her belly—way fiercer than the first one!
She couldn't help but drop to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at Astrion's limp, collapsed form.
From that wound belching black smoke, silvery-white blood mingled with mud and kept pouring out.
A clear, piercing Qilin cry suddenly rang out—brimming with fury—shaking the surrounding flames into rippling waves that spread like the tide.
At the sound, "Quirrell's" lips curled into a smirk, utterly unfazed.
"What incredible vitality. When did the wizarding world pick up a magical creature like you?"
But his only answer was a dozen crimson-gold fire dragons lunging at him, plus even more slender fire tendrils slithering out from the curtain of flames like striking serpents.
No hint of panic in "Quirrell's" eyes—he just casually flicked his wand, like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
The air warped and boiled from the insane heat.
Crimson-gold flames roared and churned, surging in from every direction.
"Fiendfyre!"
Dozens of thick, tar-like curses erupted from "Quirrell's" wand tip, instantly morphing into massive serpents that slammed headlong into those fire dragons.
The clash of their savage bites unleashed deafening explosions, with sparks raining down like a meteor shower.
A few of those long, thin fire snakes slipped through the chaos, streaking toward "Quirrell."
"Black Vortex Shield!"
A spinning, light-devouring black hole of a whirlpool twisted the oncoming snakes right into its maw.
The flames let out eerie shrieks as they neared the edge, like they were being crushed and obliterated by some invisible force.
"Quirrell" was just trading raw magic blasts with the flames—no Finite Incantatem or anything fancy like that to shut them down cold.
Because he'd noticed something downright weird: these blisteringly hot flames didn't carry a shred of magic.
They felt like pure, elemental fire—born straight from the earth and sky.
So, in a quick breather from fending off the crimson-gold blaze, the ever-cautious Voldemort whipped out a Finite Incantatem, aiming it at one of the narrower streams of flame.
But the fire didn't shrink a bit.
"Intriguing. Very intriguing."
Voldemort knew full well that with his power and spellcraft, no magic could shrug off a Finite like that without taking a hit.
The truth hit him like a hex: that bizarre creature's fire control was genuinely magic-free.
And in that split-second pause, Luster's shimmering form vanished in a blink—smooth as silk.
She reappeared right next to Astrion.
"Ptoo!"
A glistening glob of saliva splattered onto Astrion's wound.
The writhing black smoke cleared up in a flash, and the smooth slit started knitting itself back together at a speed you could see with your own eyes.
The blood flow finally ground to a halt.
"Yes!"
Voldemort's mind lit up with wild glee at the sight.
Just a bit of spit to wipe out a dark magic curse and heal the wound itself?
That creature was something else entirely. If he could just claim her...
"Pffft!"
A gush of dark-red blood sprayed from "Quirrell's" mouth.
"Hmph. What a frail, pathetic shell."
Ignoring the body's screaming overload, Voldemort kept wringing every last drop of flesh and life force from it, twisting it into a surge of dark magic power through sheer force of will.
He unleashed that magic in a frenzy, letting it race through his veins and erupt into a dizzying storm of spells.
Jagged black lightning, icy crows, ghostly flying blades flickering in and out...
And "Quirrell" himself kept blurring out of sight, popping up in fresh spots.
They'd plunged deep into the Forbidden Forest now.
Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards couldn't touch this far in.
In Voldemort's hands, high-end teleportation spells were turning into just another dodge move.
Luster was starting to flail, caught off guard—her real-world scraps were way too green.
Sure, she'd sparred with her master plenty back home, but nothing like this chaos?
She wasn't ready. Not even close.
And that enemy was inching toward Selene, on purpose or not—which meant Luster couldn't risk Apparating over with Astrion in tow.
One slip, and he'd pounce.
Her glassy eyes flickered nonstop, tracking the threat.
Boom!
Purifying fire exploded from Luster without end, blooming into a sea of flame.
She willed it to wrap around Astrion and Selene like a shield.
She was about to pour everything she had into the fight...
When a blank spot yawned open smack in the middle of the inferno. "Quirrell" stood dead center, flames crashing against him like waves on a rock—but they couldn't get within arm's reach.
He hurled a handful of vials into the air, and colorful potions or crystals rained down, splashing everywhere.
"Bloodied Barrage!"
As "Quirrell" incanted and slashed his wand, the scorching air seemed to freeze solid for a heartbeat.
The potions fused and coalesced in the blink of an eye.
Over a hundred streaking blood-blades shot out in a rainbow of death.
Luster's eyes went wide—the blades were rocketing straight for...
Selene!
She instinctively geared up to Apparate over, but her peripheral caught a hazy, almost-invisible figure.
Clang!
Thud!
The ring of steel on steel, chased by the wet rip of a blade sinking into flesh.
The ghostly figure revealed itself: "Quirrell," hooded and masked like a specter.
The "Quirrell" in the eye of the empty zone shattered like broken glass and faded away.
In a flash, the real "Quirrell" yanked out a pale-green dagger, carving a trail of golden-red blood across Luster's midsection.
Pain exploded in Luster's eyes.
He didn't even glance at the two unicorns—dead or dying—as his gaze burned with greedy hunger on those droplets of blood, pulsing with raw, life-giving energy.
He'd held back on the Killing Curse, that ultimate dark slayer, because he wanted her alive. Captured. To drag him back to his full glory.
But as the fight dragged on in this deadlock, Voldemort shifted gears.
Quirrell's body was crumbling—he had to wrap this up fast.
So his real play now? Harvesting chunks of this creature's body for parts.
He reached out to snag the blood, claiming the night's biggest prize.
A blast of alien heat slammed into "Quirrell's" face out of nowhere.
In the grip of that searing pain, Luster felt some invisible chain snap inside her. Thick, almost-pure-gold flames surged from her skin in every direction.
And in that moment, the light in her eyes blazed brighter than ever.
"Quirrell" just chuckled, unconcerned at the outburst, and snatched a single droplet mid-reach.
His form twisted and vanished.
His Apparition would land before the flames could touch him.
But the glassy sheen in Luster's eyes flared to full brilliance.
"Quirrell's" form locked in place, frozen solid.