Shortly after, Professor McGonagall came to hand out their timetables.
It had to be said, after looking over this term's schedule, Cohen felt his good days at Hogwarts were quickly coming to an end.
"Are they even letting us live this term?" Ron asked incredulously. "Look at this – History of Magic, Potions, Divination, Defence Against the Dark Arts, all double periods – is there really enough time in a day to have eight classes?"
"I have a strange sense of déjà vu," Cohen sighed.
Cohen had only seen such a dense class schedule in his high school days in his previous life.
However, Professor McGonagall seemed to have lied to Umbridge last night – their first class this morning wasn't Transfiguration.
"Cohen, how are Fred and George's research on their special effect Skiving Snackboxes coming along?" Ron pinned his hopes on Cohen. "As a shareholder, can you help me get some..."
"What, what? Our major shareholder has landed us some business?!" Fred popped out from behind them, grinning cheekily.
"I was just looking for you two," Hermione said in a no-nonsense tone. "You can't post advertisements for testers on the Gryffindor notice board."
"Who says?" George raised an eyebrow.
"It means you need to post them somewhere Professor McGonagall won't catch you, like next to the notice board," Cohen clarified.
"Oh, oh, oh," George said. "Then we'll change the spot – but that would significantly reduce the advertising effect..."
"The key isn't the location, it's the reach of the promotion – I think this stuff should be posted in every common room," Cohen suggested. "That way, it's more efficient."
"Cohen!" Hermione's eyes widened.
"George and I thought about it, but the cost would be a bit higher than expected – especially in Ravenclaw," Fred explained. "They're very clever; they said the Ravenclaw notice board needs to be rented for a fee."
"It's just money. If it's under ten Galleons, I'll cover the rental fee," Cohen waved a hand dismissively.
"Ten Galleons..." Ron swallowed hard.
"If it's too high, then there's no need; you can just post them outside their common room," Cohen added.
"You really don't look like a Prefect at all," Fred looked extremely pleased.
Hermione glared angrily at Cohen, about to say something.
"Hermione, you'll change your mind soon enough," George said. "Because you're in your fifth year now, and before long, you'll be begging us for Skiving Snackboxes."
"Why?" Hermione frowned.
"Fifth year is O.W.L. year," Fred explained. "You'll be endlessly dealing with exams – Cohen and we will make a fortune from this very soon."
"Just because of O.W.L.s, half the students in our year developed minor ailments," George added. "Crying and wiping tears, throwing tantrums, pretending to be dizzy and bothering Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing..."
"Cohen, your... testers, is there any risk?" Ron asked Cohen.
"Our little brother is asking Cohen instead of his two older brothers?" Fred said mournfully.
"There shouldn't be any life-threatening danger," Cohen replied. "After all, we have the Hospital Wing."
"Don't be silly," George patted Ron's head. "The most dangerous ingredient in our stuff is Bowtruckle dung; you've already eaten at least a bowl of it this summer."
"What?!" Ron demanded, eyes wide.
"It was in your breakfast porridge, good for bowel movements," Fred said, barely suppressing his laughter.
"I'm going to kill you two!" Ron yelled, waving his fork, but Fred and George had already scurried away.
"This stuff is also used in potions," Cohen recalled. He'd heard about it when making potions according to the Goat's recipes, supposedly to mark illegal users – though Cohen hadn't added it.
"That's disgusting..." Ron gagged. "I completely don't want to participate in this joke product testing anymore..."
After breakfast, Cohen intended to ask Ginny about her pen pal, but he couldn't find her anywhere.
Arriving at the History of Magic classroom, the lesson hadn't even started, and Cohen was already feeling sleepy.
"Professor Binns's magic is truly terrifying," Cohen yawned uncontrollably.
"+1," Harry said.
"+1," Ron echoed.
"You know this isn't magic at all," Hermione said.
Throughout the entire class, Cohen, Harry, and Ron spent the first two minutes listening to see if Professor Binns made any grammatical errors, and the remaining one hundred and eighteen minutes playing peg solitaire under the table (using a paper board, with Cohen's ink magic allowing the coloured ink dots to move on the board).
"I'm starting to respect my dad for being able to make such a huge Dungeons and Dragons board," Cohen said after class. "Just controlling these ink dots makes me lose patience, my eyes are all blurry."
"What would happen if I didn't lend you my History of Magic notes this year?" Hermione asked them coldly.
"Then we'd fail our History of Magic O.W.L.s," Ron said. "If you want to feel guilty, Hermione..."
"I actually feel fine," Cohen said. "But the regular assignments would definitely be a pain – wait, you're not saying you won't even let us copy the homework, are you?"
History of Magic exams weren't a big deal for Cohen, as long as there was one student with an 'O' in the exam room.
But homework would be a huge hassle – because History of Magic was precisely the subject the Earl was least proficient in.
"Hmph, you deserve it," Hermione snapped. "You didn't listen to him at all during the lecture."
"We tried really hard," Ron said, with Harry and Cohen nodding frantically beside him. "We just don't have a brain like yours, or your good memory, or your amazing focus... You're just smart, alright? Don't rub it in, please?"
"Exactly, exactly," Harry and Cohen agreed.
"Hmph, don't try to sweet-talk me," Hermione said, though her expression had clearly softened, indicating that the homework for tonight would still be available for copying.
"Brilliant," Cohen secretly gave Ron a thumbs-up.
Ron waved a hand dismissively at Cohen, with an expression that said, "Just average, third best in the world."
"Hey, Ginny!" On the way to Potions class, Cohen spotted Ginny coming up from the dungeons and chased after her, leaving Ron and the others behind.
"Cohen, what's up?" Ginny asked, confused.
"Earlier on the train, you mentioned a new pen pal –"
"Did Ron send you?" Ginny's face darkened. "I won't say anything."
"No," Cohen said. "I saw his name – Carlton Grey – don't worry, I didn't tell Ron."
Ginny looked at Cohen suspiciously, but her guard lowered a little.
Because Ron hadn't come running to question her about "why are you corresponding with a male pen pal" or anything like that yet.
"Do you know what kind of person he is?" Cohen asked. "How old is he? What area does he live in?"
"He didn't tell me his age, I only know he lives in Devon," Ginny said. "But he must have already graduated from Hogwarts, right...? Is there a problem?"
If he had the region, the Earl could find this suddenly appearing person...
"A little," Cohen admitted. "But I need to confirm something. If he asks you to do anything in real life, absolutely do not agree."
"I know that," Ginny said, a bit curious. "Bill once had his ear branded by his pen pal, so I'm very careful with letters and anything sent to me – is he a Death Eater?"
"Probably not – wait, did you find anything unusual about him?" Cohen became alert.
"I just feel that his discussions about Dark Magic are a bit too open," Ginny said. "But I'm not sure yet. If his next letter doesn't respond to my attitude about the Dark Lord's return, I plan to tell my dad his location – I didn't tell Ron because he's too dramatic. Goodness knows what would happen if he knew I was corresponding with a Death Eater."