Whether the Confundus Charm would work was something the Earl didn't know, but Cohen's expression, as resolute as if he were taking a sacred vow, was enough to send him straight to Azkaban. He was a born champion for Azkaban—after all, Cohen was the only one Dementors could ever have to enter a proper competition.
"Alright, alright, you're the best candidate, happy now...?" the Earl said, sighing. "Who could possibly snatch the champion's position from you? You're the only one competing for Azkaban. Aren't you worried Dumbledore will find out?"
"I carry the hopes of Azkaban," Cohen said. "And Dumbledore will agree—I have my ways."
After all, with one student like Harry Potter already breaking the rules, one more shouldn't be too much of a burden for Dumbledore... These were simply the responsibilities of a Headmaster (he said with great conviction).
---
The summer holidays flew by, and soon it was time for Cohen to return to school.
"Do you prefer the black robes or the white ones?" Edward asked, helping Cohen pack his clothes. "I was actually thinking a purple set would look good on you, too..."
"The Yule Ball is a dance, not a fashion show for the public," Cohen said, grabbing a set of grey, high-collared dress robes. "I don't need that many sets."
"So you can change them to suit the tastes of different girls," Edward said with a knowing look. "Your mother, for example, was quite partial to purple."
"How are you so skilled? Did you do market research on other girls back then?" Cohen asked curiously. "Who? Lily?"
"Then James would've come over with his wand ready to kill me," Edward said, making a face. "This was a plan Arnold and I worked out to invite a date. It was all for the sake of winning your mother over..."
"And how did that turn out?" Cohen asked.
"Your mother just came up to me herself, without a single wasted word, and told me to be ready to dance with her that night," Edward recalled. "Right in front of Arnold—he was in the middle of teaching me how to get a girl alone to ask her out."
"I can tell you didn't use any of his methods," Cohen said, shaking his head. "But I don't think any girl is going to ask me to dance. I might as well conjure one up myself... or just dance with a unicorn..."
"Don't be so pessimistic." Edward folded Cohen's clothes and stuffed them into his trunk. He wagged a finger at him. "You're at least seven-tenths as handsome as I am. Tricking a girl into liking you should be easy as pie."
"Are you referring to my belly, or the hair on my head?" Cohen said, his mouth twitching.
Edward nervously patted his own head. When he confirmed he wasn't thinning as badly as Arthur, he let out a long sigh of relief.
"I'll try," Cohen said, looking at Edward, who was so hopeful about him finding a girlfriend at Hogwarts.
After packing everything, Cohen tossed it all into his trunk. The castle already had two floors built. Cohen was very satisfied with the Inferi construction crew's tireless work, day and night. The basic framework of the castle would be completed within a single school term. Then would come Cohen's part: the interior design. The Inferi hadn't suffered too many losses in the process, either, save for one that a young Basilisk bit the head off and another that a lion swallowed and then promptly spat back out. They were all in perfect condition.
Once the construction was finished, Cohen planned to find a plot of land in the Scottish Highlands to bury them. If the system had any conscience, it would give him some goodwill points for that. Cohen's goodwill points were already over eight thousand. If he accumulated a little more, he could buy Cissokho a Basilisk wife. Given that the little Basilisk was now hunting independently, the old and lonely Cissokho could easily go down the same path as the old Basilisk. Cohen hadn't seen the old Basilisk crawl out of its lair in a long time, and he wasn't sure if it was "hibernating" or had just given up.
At ten-forty, Edward drove Cohen to King's Cross Station.
"From now on, you can't bring any of your role-playing friends back to the house," Cohen warned Edward before leaving. "If you leak the secret, the Fidelius Charm will be pointless."
"I'm a grown-up, I know what's important," Edward said, ruffling Cohen's hair—even though Cohen was almost as tall as his shoulder now.
"Also, you should exercise more. The last time you grabbed me in the box at the top of the stadium, you threw out your back for a week. It just shows you aren't getting enough exercise at home..."
"Alright, alright, alright, get to school. Don't worry about your mother and me. The train will leave soon. Have a good term and a great life at Hogwarts. See you later!"
Edward, seeing Cohen's tendency to start nagging, decided to send off the little tyrant immediately. How could a fourteen-year-old act like a forty-year-old? He almost felt like he was sending Martha off to school instead of Cohen.
Cohen was pushed through the wall to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The familiar, bright red steam engine was waiting at the station. The platform was packed. Many parents who had just seen their children off were still muttering about the *Daily Prophet* and rumors of "trouble at the Ministry."
"Cohen! Over here!" Harry's voice rang out. He and Sirius were standing not far away. Perhaps because he finally had a "relative" to see him off, Cohen had never seen Harry so cheerful.
"Did the Ministry give you any trouble?" Sirius asked, leaning down to whisper to Cohen once he reached them. "Because of the attack on Fudge?"
"Why would they give my family trouble?" Cohen asked, pretending not to know.
"I heard from people at the Ministry that Fudge is going mad because of public opinion and his declining approval ratings," Sirius sighed. "I think it won't be long before someone else replaces him—maybe Barty Crouch, who's been taking credit for everything, or maybe Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror Office. Considering the Ministry hasn't made any progress in finding the culprit, Fudge desperately needs someone to blame."
"Sirius and I both think it was Voldemort," Harry said. "My scar has been hurting again this summer—and I had a dream. I dreamed Voldemort was plotting to kill someone..."
"But Fudge would never dare to confront Voldemort in the shadows," Sirius said. "So, Cohen, you have to be careful not to give the Ministry any leverage, especially now that there's some chaos at Azkaban. I hear you've been running off-campus a lot..."
"I'll probably stay on school grounds all term and not move a muscle," Cohen said, but he looked at Sirius strangely. "Why do you care so much about me? I remember when you first escaped from prison, you were very wary of me..."
"My head was a mess back then," Sirius said with a dry laugh. "Staying in Azkaban for so long, being able to say one logical sentence means your mind is still intact... Edward is my friend, and you're Harry's friend. There's no reason not to help a friend, is there?"
"..." Cohen stared into Sirius's eyes for a moment. Just as Sirius thought Cohen was about to express some heartfelt gratitude—
"I won't call you 'Dog Man' anymore," Cohen declared, making a monumental decision.
"Pfft—" Harry covered his face and laughed.
"Get to school, you two," Sirius said, his face darkening as he pushed them toward the train.
"Hey, Cohen, have you heard about the big thing happening at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked as he and Cohen looked for an empty compartment.
"What big thing are you talking about?" Cohen asked, pretending to be ignorant so Harry could enjoy himself a little longer.
"Wait—let's get in a compartment and I'll tell you!" Harry struggled to push his trunk into an empty one, and Hedwig hooted unhappily.
"I heard from Sirius that there's a huge tournament at Hogwarts this year called the Triwizard Tournament. It's a competition between Hogwarts students and students from two other wizarding schools," Harry said excitedly. "The winner gets a huge amount of money and will be the champion for their school, winning the trophy." Harry was full of anticipation for the competition, but his eyes quickly fell as he thought of something else. "But only students who are seventeen or older can compete..." he said, his voice full of disappointment.
*Creeeak* The compartment door opened. Ron and Hermione had just arrived.
"I can't believe it! Mr. Bagman was willing to tell us, but my own mother knew and wouldn't say a word!" Ron said, stomping in and sitting down in a huff.
"Don't mention Bagman's name in front of Fred and George," Hermione warned. "I think they're trying to put up 'wanted' posters for him in Hogsmeade."
"What happened?" Harry asked curiously.
"Because Bagman ran off, right? With Fred and George's money," Cohen said. "Edward and I tried to warn them, but it was too late. They couldn't get the money back from him..."
"But didn't a huge amount of gold fall from the sky that night?" Harry asked, confused.
"That was leprechaun gold," Ron said miserably. "It disappeared the next day. By the time Fred and George found out, it was too late... I was hoping to use it to pay you back for those Omnioculars—"
"You didn't realize, Harry?" Hermione asked, finding his surprise unbelievable.
"I put the gold in my coin purse," Harry shook his head. "I couldn't tell the difference..."
"Lucky you," Ron said miserably. "I don't have a huge pile of real gold mixed in with mine."
"What was the first thing Ron was talking about?" Harry quickly changed the subject. "What did Mrs. Weasley not tell you?"
"She kept saying stuff like, 'It's great that Hogwarts changed the rules. You're going to have an exciting year,' but whenever we asked her what the rule change was, she would only say that Dumbledore would explain it at school," Ron said. "I asked Hermione, and she said she didn't know either."
"I haven't seen anything about it in the papers," Hermione said, shaking her head. "They're all just 'the Ministry is doomed' stories, and speculation about the next Minister for Magic."
"Fudge isn't even dead yet," Cohen said, surprised at the audacity of the *Daily Prophet*. Spreading public opinion could be excused as "the nature of news," but openly polling for the next Minister while the current one was still in office? That seemed too ridiculous.
"I thought it was strange too," Hermione said, frowning. "And the Ministry hasn't done anything to control it—"
"My dad said a lot of people at the Ministry are fed up with Fudge," Ron said, not seeming surprised at all. "I guess it's only a matter of time before he's replaced. My mum is actually hoping that the new Minister will give my dad a promotion..."
"Who's the most popular candidate in the public polls?" Cohen asked Hermione.
"Barty Crouch," Hermione said. "The reason they gave is that Crouch's old methods for dealing with dark wizards make people feel safe..."
That made a lot of sense. If public opinion was allowed to fester right under the government's nose without them doing anything about it, then it was likely that the government itself wanted the public to see it. It was highly probable that Crouch was fanning the flames. This was likely the only chance he would have left to become Minister.
"But with Sirius's wrongful conviction, old Crouch's past was brought up again," Hermione said. "I feel like it's going to be tough for him to become Minister..."
"I don't want to think about how insufferably smug Percy would be if old Crouch became Minister," Ron said, his face twisted in disgust. "You don't know what it was like. All summer, Percy was all 'Mr. Crouch this' and 'Mr. Crouch that.' He was so worried we wouldn't know he was working for Mr. Crouch now, and if there was even a little noise in the house, he'd yell that we were disturbing his cauldron leakage report for Mr. Crouch..."
"He's a natural-born Ministry man," Cohen said, smirking. "But no matter who becomes Minister, it has to be better than Fudge. He was so scared in that top box, he looked just like a Muggle."
"The Dark Mark was in the sky. It must be terrifying for the older generations of wizards," Hermione said. "But the Minister's response was a bit cowardly. Mr. Crouch's reaction was much faster than his."
Crouch... Cohen remembered seeing Crouch before the competition. Old Crouch's eyes and emotions were extremely confused and complex. But after Fudge was attacked, old Crouch didn't seem to have any suspicion of him and even spoke on his behalf. Strange... were all politicians so manipulative?
But raw power and ability will always trump cunning and politics, so Cohen just had to keep building his stats.
"By the way, I think what Mrs. Weasley was talking about was the Triwizard Tournament," Cohen said. "Harry just told me about it—it's a very grand competition that will be held at Hogwarts."
"The Triwizard Tournament?" Ron asked curiously.
"That's right, between three schools..." Harry didn't mind and explained the Triwizard Tournament to Ron and Hermione all over again.
Hermione wasn't very interested in the competition, but she was very interested in the other schools. "Two other schools?" she asked with great enthusiasm. "We can study and exchange ideas with students from other schools? I've always been so curious..."
Cohen, on the other hand, had little interest in the competition, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons. It felt... less important than spying on Voldemort's private life through that flesh-and-blood puppet.
Eating, sleeping, and ordering the Death Eaters to get to work. Voldemort's life was very full and peaceful... if you ignored the fact that he was currently demanding to know where his diary had been hidden.