"Picked it up playing board games…" Edward said, scratching his head.
"That must've been one realistic game," Cohen replied, not buying it for a second. But a man who'd go down as the Ministry of Magic's most effective Minister probably had a ruthless, gritty past…
That tidbit would definitely make it into The Life and Secrets of Minister Norton—with a bit of artistic flair, of course.
Disposing of a body was simple enough: just get it to "haul the corpse into Cohen's trunk and clean up the room it was stashed in." That was it.
Cohen's trunk was never short on creatures that could handle a body automatically. Toss it into Norbert and his mum's cave, and by morning, it'd be gone without a trace. Whether it got eaten or charred to ash for the dragons' cozy fire? Hard to say.
After sorting everything out, Cohen and Edward headed downstairs for breakfast.
With Dobby around, Edward was spared the hassle of waking up early to cook.
"I'm heading to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place later," Cohen said, munching on a fried egg. "Dumbledore's set up the Order of the Phoenix there. Wanna come?"
"Dumbledore didn't invite me, so I'll sit this one out," Edward said. "He's probably got his own plans…"
"Fair enough." Cohen swallowed the rest of his egg, letting out a small burp. "I might stay there a few days. If anything comes up, I'll write."
"Just be back before the end of the month," Edward said, nodding. "We've got to hit Diagon Alley for new textbooks. Stay safe out there."
"Got it," Cohen said. He almost quipped that he was safer than the roads outside but settled for a simple "Got it" instead.
This time, Cohen didn't use magic to get to London—no Knight Bus either. He opted for a Muggle bus. He'd spotted a few wizards blending in with the Muggle crowd on Privet Drive, where wizards rarely showed up.
The Fidelius Charm hid Edward and Rose, but as the Secret-Keeper, Cohen wasn't protected. The Ministry was still trying to keep tabs on him.
That wouldn't last long, though.
Voldemort was back, and Cohen's plans to shake things up were about to kick off. This wasn't just the year old Crouch aimed to seize power—it was the year Cohen planned to reshuffle the Ministry's deck.
Can't let my Dementor mates just wander out there, can I?
They chose to follow me.
I'm not looking to start a war.
Why are you handing me the Minister's appointment letter?
Cohen took a bus to London, then a taxi to Grimmauld Place.
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, now the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, was surely under a Fidelius Charm. Harry's letter must've made Cohen a Secret-Keeper too.
Between Numbers Eleven and Thirteen, a battered door appeared, followed by grimy walls and eerie windows. Even after a year, Sirius hadn't managed to spruce the place up. Maybe the house, steeped in magic for so long, had developed its own grim aesthetic. Or maybe some nasty magical creatures had burrowed into the walls, impossible to clear out.
Or, you know, Sirius could just be lazy with housework.
Cohen climbed the steps and pushed the door open. The inside hadn't changed much since his last visit, but it felt livelier, buzzing with people.
Voices drifted from the end of the hall, laced with frustration.
"You're adults now, but do you really need to Apparate just to get downstairs?" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Don't you know how dangerous that spell is when you're half-asleep?"
"We're awake, Mum," came a muffled voice—Fred or George, mouth full of bread.
"And we know exactly where we're going," said the other twin, equally muffled. "We're not gonna land on someone's head."
"We could even clear the dishes for you in a flash—"
"Oh, no…"
Two loud pops echoed from the room at the hall's end.
"Crack!"
The Weasley twins must've Apparated upstairs.
"For Merlin's sake, using wands for every little thing…" Mrs. Weasley muttered in the kitchen.
Cohen wasn't sure if now was the best time to walk in. It sounded like Fred and George had made a mess of something. Before the Apparition pops, he'd distinctly heard plates shattering and some kind of sauce splattering on the floor.
But before he could decide, the door swung open. Mrs. Weasley, balancing a tray of breakfast rolls, nearly collided with him.
"Oh—sorry, dear, I didn't see you there!" She tilted to the side to keep the tray from hitting Cohen.
When she steadied herself and realized it was Cohen, her face lit up with a warm smile.
"Cohen! So good to see you!" She freed one hand to give him a quick hug. "Harry and Ron said they invited you—Dumbledore mentioned you'd be back yesterday… You're looking as skinny as Harry! You need to eat more. Had breakfast yet? We've got bread and eggs, and I can grab some ketchup or cheese if you'd like…"
"I ate before I came, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Cohen said politely, stepping aside so she could carry the tray to the living room.
"Harry and the others will be down soon for breakfast. You can wait in the living room. I'll grab you some drinks and sweets—Ron says you love sweets," Mrs. Weasley said as she walked. "How was Greece? I hear the wizards there can be a bit odd, but the scenery's gorgeous, and there are so many ancient wizarding ruins…"
In less than a minute, Mrs. Weasley had pulled Cohen into a cozy, family-like chat, completely derailing his thoughts about the Ministry and Voldemort. Instead, he found himself talking about his travels and the ancient ruins of Greece while Mrs. Weasley listened, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"Arthur and I almost honeymooned in Greece," she said fondly. "But we ended up in Romania instead. Turned out neither of us cared much for dragons…"
"Most of the tours in Greece were about magical creatures too," Cohen said, scratching his head. "Griffins, Golden Fleece, that sort of thing…"
"As long as you had fun, that's what matters," Mrs. Weasley said. "What do you fancy to drink? Milk? Pumpkin juice? Tea?"