Unluckily for them, Cohen and Hermione had transformed their fluffy little toy dogs as soon as they got them, turning them into live dogs that sat on the table, wagging their tails and blocking their view of the teacher.
So, the extra homework was only for Harry and Ron.
"Don't worry, Cohen will help us," Ron said to Harry after class.
"How am I supposed to help you?" Cohen said, shaking his head sadly. "Hermione doesn't have to do the first version of the homework, and I can't catch any rule-breaking students anymore. You can't hit a person who's smiling at you, can you? They're even giving me gifts, look—"
As he spoke, Cohen held up and rattled several parcels he'd received during class, right in front of Ron.
"Doesn't that count as a bribe?" Hermione asked.
"Does it? Maybe. It could also be protection money," Cohen mused. "They give me gifts, and I don't catch them for detention… Speaking of which, didn't you say you were late getting back to school because of something to do with Harry?"
"Oh!" Harry suddenly remembered. "It's because I had a nightmare over the Christmas holiday—I saw myself turn into a snake."
"And then?" Cohen asked, pretending to be very interested.
"I was slithering down a strange corridor…" Harry recalled. "And I saw Kingsley and Mr. Weasley blocking the way in the middle of the hall. For some reason, I wanted to bite them, but they were quick and used a bunch of spells to chase me—I mean, the snake—away."
"I first thought it was just a nightmare because I've spent so much time with the little Basilisk," Harry continued. "But Hermione said it wasn't a normal thing…"
"And it certainly isn't normal," Hermione said sternly to Harry. "That's why we had to wait. Tonks was supposed to come back to headquarters at noon to deliver a letter for Mr. Weasley, so we could ask her if what you dreamed was true."
"So, did you ask her?" Cohen asked.
"No," Ron sighed. "Tonks didn't come back; Dego did. Harry said he'd never seen him in his dream, so we didn't tell him about it—now we just have to wait for Professor Dumbledore to get back."
"That might be a while. Dumbledore won't be back at school for a few days," Cohen said, looking puzzled. "But you could tell Sirius, couldn't you? He'd definitely believe you—honestly, I bet he'd love to have something to do right away."
"He's certainly got 'something to do'," Ron said. "He hasn't been back since Christmas. Harry thought he was going to live outside for good—you have no idea how obsessed he is with going on missions for the Order of the Phoenix."
"You can't expect a person who's been in prison for twelve years to want to be cooped up in a gloomy house, can you?" Cohen said wisely.
"So, Cohen, do you think it could be true?" Harry asked.
"It depends on your point of view. If the dream felt real to you when you woke up, it could very well be true," Cohen said. "After all, you have a connection to Voldemort—"
Cohen pointed to the scar on Harry's head.
But Harry's expression soured—he didn't want any connection to Voldemort, especially not a mental one.
Cohen didn't tell Harry how to block the connection or about Occlumency. What if Harry actually managed to learn it? What if Voldemort couldn't trick him next time?
Then how was Cohen supposed to blow up the Ministry of Magic?
If the Minister wasn't Edward, Cohen would use this opportunity to blow up the Ministry, citing the sadness from his dear father losing the election.
If the Minister was Edward, Cohen would be even more motivated to blow up the Ministry—because there was no reason needed to blow up your own, and it would be a great way to show off the Norton family's "power."
_This year, the Ministry of Magic simply has to be blown up._
Thinking about it, Cohen figured he had better go and hurry Voldemort along.
There was nothing wrong with the original plan: invade Harry's mind, trick him into thinking Sirius had been caught—and Sirius was "cooperating" perfectly by being out on a mission and not coming home, so Harry couldn't even confirm the situation.
A fire would break out on the mountain behind the school, and Cohen would put it out—but don't ask who started it.
---
So, Cohen sent a letter urging Voldemort on, carried by Earl that very afternoon. It was the perfect time, with the Ministry of Magic in a transitional period, leaving its defenses weak—just right for Harry to go and grab the prophecy orb.
After that, Cohen decided to start opening the mountain of gifts that had piled up, to see if anything was useful or good for a snack.
But he quickly came across a very strange parcel.
It looked square, like a box, and the corners were a bit damp, as if it had water inside.
What really caught Cohen's attention was something he could see with his own unique sight: the box had a soul's strength.
[Soul Strength: 30]
What kind of clown-in-a-box prank was this?
Which student had turned a live person into a box and sent it to him?
There were so many gifts, Cohen couldn't even remember who gave him what, or when. In any case, even if someone had sent a bomb, it wouldn't be dangerous for him.
All the other gifts instantly seemed dull in comparison.
[Hello?]
[?]
Cohen was a bit surprised to hear a thought-voice from inside the box—this was how Dementors communicated.
Who put a Dementor in a box?
But the voice didn't sound like the low, raspy whispers of Dementors; it was more like a mix of many human voices.
[Could you change my water?] the box said. [If you have hands.]
[I certainly have hands,] Cohen replied.
[You have hands?!] the box asked, sounding very happy.
[What's so funny about that? Even a Dementor has hands,] Cohen said.
Cohen unwrapped the gift.
That's when he understood why the box was so surprised about him having hands—
The gift was a small tank of water. It didn't contain a Dementor or a transfigured person.
Inside was a pinkish brain, with a hint of pearl-white from being soaked for so long.
Surrounding the brain was a halo of ethereal thought-tentacles, but because the tank was so narrow, these seemingly ghostly but actually solid tentacles were squashed against the sides.
[Oh, you're not a brain—how can you hear our voices?] The brain shifted slightly in the tank, a difficult movement since it was clearly misshapen from being squeezed.
[Because some of my… kin… communicate that way,] Cohen said, unsure how to explain the concept.
[It feels very familiar,] the brain said. [I have seen a being very much like you. It joined us. We gave it a place.]