A goat biting a snake sounds a bit strange, but if it's two heads of a Chimera fighting, it makes perfect sense...
"But how did you bite your tail from up there?" Cohen asked, a little curious.
"I can do this—"
The goat twisted its neck in a very exaggerated way and clamped down on the tail of the coiled watersnake on its back.
"Hiss!" the watersnake's tail hissed in a playful, annoyed way.
The goat seemed to find this unusual act, something it wouldn't normally do, oddly thrilling.
"Your neck is truly impressive," Cohen said with admiration.
The rest of the evening went by without any more messages from Carlton. Cohen felt like there was one less thing to keep him from getting bored during the holidays. If there were no surprises, it meant a surprise had already happened. That stubborn girl had likely died when the communication cut off this morning. The goat was right—happy endings often lead to pain. Cohen just didn't expect the end to come so quickly. It felt like a small bird he'd just brought home had choked to death on its birdseed.
After dinner, Cohen returned to the dormitory.
The Chimera and its little ones had gone back into the trunk. The young one had to sleep next to the old watersnake to be comfortable. The old Basilisk, on the other hand, wanted to stay in the Chamber of Secrets for a few more days, perhaps to avoid the noisy little snake, or maybe it truly felt a connection to the place where it had slept for over a thousand years.
Cohen was planning to go to bed early, but he glanced at the slate before he fell asleep. A new message had appeared.
[Are you really Cohen Norton?]
The handwriting was the same as before.
[You found out?] Cohen wrote.
[My brother says Cohen Norton is a terrible monster.] Carlton wrote. [He's killed a lot of people and he's going to destroy the world—just like the Dark Lord.]
[Just to be clear, the Dark Lord isn't going to destroy the world,] Cohen wrote, a little exasperated. [He just wants to rule it.]
[You still haven't answered my question.]
[How do you expect me to answer? If I say I'm Cohen Norton, but I don't want to destroy the world, would you believe me?] Cohen wrote.
[I don't think you're the kind of person who would destroy the world. You wouldn't be friends with Ginny, and you wouldn't be writing to me.] Carlton continued. [My brother and the others probably misunderstood you. Besides, you're still a student at Hogwarts. How can a student destroy the world?]
[It sounds ridiculous, but some people think that, and they've been working hard to make it happen, like ruining my happy life, so I get angry and blow up the whole damn world or something.] Cohen wrote, then added, [These "people" are the Silver Keys.]
He thought about adding the Ministry of Magic, but since they were going through a change of minister and the next one might be Edward, he decided not to.
[My brother would definitely not want to destroy the world.] Carlton wrote, trusting her brother implicitly.
[Maybe,] Cohen wrote. [I also know a person in the Silver Keys who's a mole, and he's a younger brother. Though he is, in fact, a bit of a little brother in every sense of the word.]
[My brother also said you're a Dementor and very dangerous,] Carlton wrote, hesitating for a moment. [But I've read the Quibbler's description of Dementors, and they shouldn't be able to write or talk.]
The Quibbler... of course.
Cohen couldn't forget Mr. Lovegood's article, "Are Dementors Really Evil Creatures? The True Goodness Beneath the Cloak..."
[I'm a half-Dementor, mixed with the blood of some other magical creatures,] Cohen wrote. [But that doesn't stop me from wanting to be a good person.]
[Then don't others bully you?] Carlton wrote. [The children in my village used to bully me all the time because I was different from them.]
What is this, an Ariana storyline?
It was hard to imagine anyone being able to resist telling Dumbledore about this.
[I'm so dangerous, who's going to bully me? I'm the one who bullies others.] Cohen wrote. [Are those kids who bullied you still around? A white-bearded old man will be there to teach them a lesson soon.]
[I don't know, I haven't seen them in years,] Carlton wrote. [My brother said they moved away.]
Or maybe they moved into graves. Could a brother stand by while his sister was being bullied?
It was a bit like how Dumbledore's father was locked up in Azkaban for punishing the Muggle kids who had bullied Ariana.
It just seemed that Carlton's brother had escaped some form of punishment.
It took Carlton a while to write the next line.
[So, what you said about being able to cure my illness, is it true?]
[Of course it's true,] Cohen wrote. [I'm very good at it. I've done it many times.]
[You're sounding more and more like you're lying. I haven't even told you what my illness is yet.] Carlton wrote.
[My method can even cure death,] Cohen wrote.
[What method?]
[I can extract your soul and put it into another body,] Cohen wrote. [That way, everything from your old body will have nothing to do with you anymore. Don't worry, I promise to make the new body look almost exactly like the old one.]
\[Ding! Goodwill Value +100]
\[Note: If I had known that online dating would make you a better person, I would have installed Facebook in your system.]
Twitter and Pornhub wouldn't have helped, either.
Cohen was quite annoyed with the system's constant assumption that he was a bad guy.
He was just bored with nothing to do during Christmas.
[That sounds pretty evil. I don't think so...] Carlton wrote, adding a lot of ellipses.
[What's so evil about it? That's what surgery is like. You open up the body, take out something important, fix it, and then put it back,] Cohen wrote. [Aren't the Dark Arts you've learned even more evil? Like rotting a person's skin or making them bleed until they're in shock?]
[I've never used them on a person,] Carlton wrote. [And I haven't learned a lot. They told me those spells can take care of the roaches and mice at home.]
[Well, that's not so "Dark" then,] Cohen wrote. [So, you don't want your legs to be cured?]
[It sounds too scary. I have to think about it,] Carlton wrote. [And I'll ask my brother.]
[I still don't recommend asking your brother,] Cohen wrote, as a reminder. [A lot of people in the Silver Keys are lunatics.]
[My brother isn't a lunatic.]
[What's his name?] Cohen wrote. [I can talk to him.]
[Miguel,] Carlton wrote. [Should I give him the slate?]
[Leave the slate under your door, so your brother can pick it up when he opens the door,] Cohen wrote. [Pretend I never talked to you. This slate was just slipped under the door.]
[Okay,] Carlton wrote.
The conversation was over.
After a while, Cohen erased all the writing on the slate.
He tossed the slate onto the end of his bed and got back under the covers.
First, he'd confirm whether this Miguel was a conservative, a radical, or a slacker.
Then he'd consider other things.
After all, he could only see a gray-haired figure in the crystal ball. In that dim light, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.
Or maybe it was Miguel who was hanging in there...