"Ha," Cohen said, scratching his head.
"Hmm," Snape replied, his face as blank as a potions textbook.
"Severus is our inside man," Voldemort said from the head of the long table, hands clasped like a cunning old Slytherin. "I believe I mentioned that to you, Cohen."
What's more awkward than being caught as a double agent?
Getting caught sneaking out as a double agent by another double agent.
At least now Cohen didn't have to explain why he was suddenly at Voldemort's hideout when Dumbledore had told him to stay home.
"You called me here for a new plan?" Cohen asked.
"How dare you speak to the Dark Lord like that!" a short, stocky man snarled at Cohen.
"This boy is far more useful than you, Amycus," Voldemort hissed, his voice like a venomous snake. "Barking doesn't make up for past betrayals, does it?"
Voldemort's voice was soft, but it froze Amycus Carrow's furious expression like a block of ice. His face collapsed from rage to terror in an instant, and he stammered, "Master, I was wrong—back then, I only…"
Voldemort said nothing, and Amycus shut his mouth, slinking to the side with his head bowed.
The Carrow siblings had ditched the Death Eaters the moment Voldemort fell last time, escaping Azkaban's cells. That choice was now a stain they couldn't erase in Voldemort's eyes.
"I need something," Voldemort said to Cohen.
"Harry's life?" Cohen asked. "I thought he was supposed to die last term."
Voldemort's face darkened.
"There's an… unusual connection between his wand and mine," Voldemort admitted. "I missed my chance once. But it's not important. He's just a cowardly boy, no threat in the end."
Really? Cohen thought, pressing his lips together.
It sounded like Voldemort was trying to convince himself. He clearly wanted Harry dead now.
How does someone like him even change? Cohen wondered.
"Anything more important than that?" Cohen asked, playing dumb.
Cohen knew exactly what Voldemort was after: the prophecy about him and Harry. Snape had only overheard the first half before getting kicked out of the pub, but Voldemort was obsessed with the idea that the second half held the key to killing "the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."
"A prophecy orb, stored in the Department of Mysteries," Voldemort said. "I need it. It contains the prophecy about me and Harry Potter. His ability to escape me must be tied to the second half…"
"Oh, right…" Cohen said. "The one about 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.' If you know where it is, why not just grab it? Or send one of your people?"
"Only those named in the prophecy can retrieve and hear its contents," Voldemort explained. "I can't show my face at the Ministry just yet. I want Harry Potter dealt with before moving forward. As you can see…" His snake-like eyes scanned the sparsely filled hall of Death Eaters, as if reminding Cohen their numbers were thin. "Some loyal, useful Death Eaters are still rotting in Azkaban. We need time to recruit fresh blood discreetly. Exposure now would be unwise."
"Even though Dumbledore knows I'm back, I'm pleased the Ministry's leadership refuses to believe him," Voldemort said with a cold laugh. "They've been… quite helpful."
"Shame," Cohen said. "I was planning to kill him this year. He's always prancing around, trying to pin random crimes on me."
"He's still useful for now. Let him live a bit longer," Voldemort said. "Don't worry about your reputation. Once my plans are complete, no one will dare question you. In fact, I can give you everything you want—including the lives of those Ministry fools to do with as you please."
"Guess how my reputation got trashed?" Cohen said, smirking. "Came back from my trip to find all the Dementors gone, and one shows up at my place begging for a snack."
"The Dementors are our natural allies," Voldemort said without a hint of apology. "Thanks to you, they've joined us smoothly."
"I'm sure you're giving them a better deal than Azkaban's gruel," Cohen said diplomatically. "So I didn't let the one at my house drag the others back to me. Honestly, their rations there were so pitiful, I felt bad. Do you know how little happiness a Dementor gets to feed on daily?"
A glint of satisfaction flickered in Voldemort's eyes. Dumbledore could search all he wanted, but he'd never figure out what Cohen truly desired. The old man was no match for Voldemort in winning hearts.
"Let's set the Dementors aside," Cohen said. "If only you or Harry can grab the prophecy orb, and you can't waltz into the Ministry, how do you plan to get Harry to fetch it? You're not expecting me to drag him there, are you?"
"If that were feasible, it'd be a straightforward approach," Voldemort said.
"Let's stick to something realistic," Cohen replied. "Kidnapping Harry's easy, but the second I—a prime suspect in the 'Dementor trafficking' case—step into the Ministry, they'll summon Dumbledore faster than you can say 'Expelliarmus.'"
"We have an inside man in the Department of Mysteries," Voldemort said. "I'll try another method first—possessing Nagini to retrieve the orb when the Ministry's guard is down."
"Sounds like I'm not needed," Cohen said, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not entirely confident in that plan," Voldemort admitted. "Nagini isn't me, and the orb's magic might not extend to the soul's level. We need a more solid backup."
"I'll have Lucius and other Death Eaters clear the Ministry one night," Voldemort continued. "You'll lure Harry Potter there to retrieve the orb. My Death Eaters will intercept and bring it to me."
"If the Ministry's empty, it'll be a breeze," Cohen said, nodding thoughtfully. "Just make sure Snape keeps Dumbledore busy so he doesn't show up too soon."
"Severus," Voldemort said, turning to Snape.
"Of course, my Lord," Snape said, bowing deeply.
---