Before Dumbledore emerged, the unicorn had already returned to the wand, so he did not see what had happened here.
The only thing that puzzled him was Voldemort's agonized scream just now. It had sounded even more miserable than when Quirrell had turned to ash.
What exactly had happened here... Dumbledore glanced at Silvan, who was stuffing bottles into his pockets. After hesitating for a moment, he ultimately asked nothing, only telling him to take Harry to the Hospital Wing later.
"Actually, nettle wine doesn't taste bad either," Dumbledore added.
"They won't fit anymore," Silvan said, pretending to remain calm as he instinctively touched the robe pocket holding his wand.
At some point, a thin layer of frost had formed around his pocket.
Fortunately, the school robes were dark-colored, and Dumbledore seemed not to have noticed this subtle change.
However, Silvan understood something else from his attitude. He could now be certain that the three bottles definitely did not contain poison. It was pure false advertising.
But it did not matter. Their only use now was filling up his pockets. Later, he might even make use of the junk and take it to Knockturn Alley to exchange for some money. Even if he got caught, it would be Snape's own reputation taking the hit.
"It's time to go back," Dumbledore said. He pointed behind him with the hand holding his wand, and a stretcher floated steadily out, with the unconscious Harry lying atop it.
"Then Harry is in your care," Dumbledore said.
Although Silvan wanted more to find out what was on the unicorn's head, Dumbledore had already said so, and he could not very well refuse. He could only nod in agreement.
Then, Dumbledore sent them back to the fourth-floor corridor. This time was even faster than when they