"I now understand why Mr. Norton and my dad told you not to look for Sirius Black," Ron said, sounding shaken. "Harry, you can't go after a crazy murderer. You can't take him on."
"He killed my parents," Harry said calmly, like a normal person, but the veins on his forehead were throbbing, and anger had filled his mind.
"I'll help you after Christmas," Cohen suddenly said.
While speaking, Cohen subtly siphoned off some of Harry's anger.
[Ding! Kindness Value +10]
[Note: Bro, when will you genuinely do something good...]
Wasn't that genuine enough?
Cohen was very dissatisfied with the system's evaluation.
It's all about actions, okay? Even if my inner thoughts are complicated and my motives impure, if the result is good, then it's good – that's what I learned from Dumbledore.
"This isn't the time for jokes, Cohen!" Hermione said in horror. "You can't – it's too dangerous –"
"I could actually do it myself –" Harry seemed unwilling to involve Cohen.
"I'm not joking," Cohen said. "I hate betrayal more than anything in this life. It feels like a kidney punch. Harry, I'm definitely helping you with this."
"But it seems like if Cohen brought along those Basilisks, dragons, and Chimaeras, he could indeed take down Black…" Ron mused.
"You can't put yourselves in danger," Hermione said, frowning. "Cohen does have a lot of magical creatures, but if you let them loose to attack Sirius Black, it's highly unlikely they wouldn't be seen – then the Ministry of Magic would arrest Cohen for 'possession of highly dangerous creatures'!"
"Then I'll go myself," Harry said.
"Are you mental?" Ron said. "Without Cohen, you wouldn't last two seconds against Sirius!"
"Remember?" Harry suddenly asked. "The prophecy Cohen conjured in the crystal ball last time? Sirius Black was caught by Dementors – I'll succeed…"
"The prophecy was about Sirius Black being caught by Dementors and the Ministry," Hermione sharply pointed out. "Not Harry, you! What if he was caught after successfully killing you? And if you actually managed to subdue him, would you really be able to resist killing him?"
What Hermione said made a lot of sense, but Harry didn't seem to have heard a word.
However, no matter how eager Harry was to catch Sirius Black, he wouldn't have much of a chance now.
Christmas was just two days away. Cohen had to go home, while Harry stayed at school – without Cohen, he indeed lacked the confidence to deal with Black.
"I'm staying at school for Christmas this year," Ron said on the morning of the holidays to Cohen and Hermione, who were packing their luggage to go home. "I'll try to talk some sense into Harry. It's way too dangerous for him to go after Black alone…"
"Even not alone, it's still dangerous," Hermione worried. "I really hope Harry doesn't do anything foolish…"
"Feed him lots of food for Christmas," Cohen said. "If he's too full, he'll easily fall asleep, and if he's asleep, he won't have time to think about catching an escaped convict. We'll talk to him again when I get back to school –"
"Cohen!" Hermione warned loudly.
"We'll persuade him together again…" Cohen said helplessly. "Alright, alright, I promise Harry will be safe and sound."
On the Hogwarts Express, Cohen and Hermione sat in the same compartment.
But Hermione didn't talk much to Cohen on the way, mostly reading a book, as if intentionally avoiding him.
"Say… how do you think Sirius Black managed to escape from Azkaban?"
Hermione asked Cohen softly.
She was reading a book titled Magical Creatures: A Guide to Their Expulsion. It was clear she had stopped at a page describing Dementors.
"'Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them…'" Hermione read from the book. "'Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself… soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life.'"
"If even magic doesn't work, how could Black have escaped from that prison in the sea…" Hermione seemed to be asking herself, but also Cohen.
"Most Dementors feed on positive emotions," Cohen said. "Many spells require the participation of positive emotions – but there are also many spells that require different emotions."
"I've seen this theory, The Power of Sadness," Hermione nodded.
"And there's one more thing," Cohen reminded her. "Animals other than humans are not on the normal Dementor menu."
Hermione thoughtfully flipped through many books along the way. Cohen felt she would figure things out soon.
And she should already be highly suspicious of Cohen being a Dementor, otherwise, she wouldn't still be asking Cohen about a topic they had discussed before on the train – and from the perspective of a Dementor.
But all of this would have to wait until after Christmas. Cohen still wanted to enjoy the warmth of his family reunion.
And also prepare some Christmas presents for those guys in the trunk, to create a bit of a festive atmosphere –
Sithrak had always wanted a scarf. (Cohen didn't quite understand why a snake would want a scarf. Was he lovesick for a female snake?)
The three heads of the Chimera wanted different things. The lion wanted a ball of yarn – the goat said it had been thinking about it ever since it saw Mr. Fluffy playing with one. The black goat wanted a philosophical book called The Republic. The long-horned water snake wanted Cohen to keep some rabbits in the trunk because it liked to eat them.
Arya didn't want anything. (Because Cohen had rejected its request for "five hundred bottles of vodka" and planned to replace it with juice.)
The little Basilisk didn't understand anything, so the two goats took care of it.
Norbert wasn't a family member, so he was left to hibernate for the winter.
"Aren't you sick?" Cohen asked after meeting Edward at the station. "Actually, I could have gone home alone. I would have picked up trash to eat if I was hungry on the way, and drunk water from the sewers if I was thirsty –"
"Are you mad?" Edward chuckled awkwardly. "I had a bit of a cold a while ago –"
"A little cold that made you moan and groan in bed for a week?!" Cohen questioned. "Answer me! Look in my eyes!"
"There are different kinds of colds…"
"When the Earl told me about it, I almost thought you were going to die!" Cohen said angrily. "Lying in bed, moaning and groaning – it sounded like you'd been bitten by a werewolf! Do you know how much damage that did to my young heart?! Especially since there actually is a werewolf at school!"
"You're afraid of werewolves?" Edward suddenly asked.
"I'm afraid of you biting people randomly," Cohen said petulantly. "If you don't want to play games, just say so. Don't scare me by pretending to be sick…"
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry –" Edward ruffled Cohen's hair. "Want to hear some good news?"
"What good news?" Cohen looked up and asked.
"There's a house-elf at home," Edward said in a rather mysterious tone.
"House-elves aren't monopolized – oh…" Cohen suddenly thought of a house-elf who was currently on the run.
"And it cooks really well…"
Edward obviously hadn't realized that Cohen already knew which house-elf had come to their home.
"But there's one rather strange thing – this house-elf asked us if we could pay it wages."
read more inpatreon
ilham20