"So, you're just going to stand by and watch those Dementors attack people at will, are you?"
Crouch's voice was slow and deliberate.
"..." Edward was silent for a moment.
Bang!
The office door flew open.
When Cohen appeared, a flicker of joy crossed Crouch's face, but Edward's brow furrowed.
"Perhaps I can ask the person directly what he thinks," Crouch said.
"I am his guardian. My opinion is his opinion," Edward said, stepping forward and pulling Cohen behind him.
"I actually heard everything from outside the door," Cohen said.
Edward turned and gave Cohen an unprecedentedly stern look, a clear warning not to make any rash decisions.
"So, Cohen, what do you think—"
"I said, we disagree," Edward said, his face a mask of stone.
Crouch didn't continue but instead stared at Cohen, waiting for his decision.
"I'll listen to my dad," Cohen said, raising an eyebrow.
Edward let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"I thought that even if you didn't do it for our past collaborations, you'd at least sacrifice a little for the sake of innocent lives," Crouch said, his tone heavy with disappointment.
"When did you become so... 'human,' Mr. Crouch?" Cohen asked, tilting his head.
Both Crouch and Edward looked at him.
"If I were so heartless, why would I have helped you cover your tracks? I was the one who contacted Amelia Bones and got your application approved. I was the one who repeatedly tripped up Fudge when he demanded you be framed. Otherwise, the entire wizarding world would have turned against Cohen long ago. Secrets always come out eventually, but cooperating with the Ministry at least ensures your status is legal," Crouch said, narrowing his eyes. "Edward, you've raised a son who could be a fine journalist."
"..." Edward seemed to be holding something back.
Was this moral blackmail?
"At least he didn't kill the son he raised," Cohen said. "A father is responsible for everything about his son, isn't he?"
Cohen's words seemed to light a short fuse. A vein throbbed on Crouch's forehead, as if he might lunge forward and punch Cohen at any moment.
Edward took a step forward, putting himself between Crouch and Cohen.
Just when Cohen thought a brawl was inevitable, Crouch made no sudden moves.
"I'll give you one last piece of general advice," Crouch said. "The Department of Mysteries has developed a way to harm 'non-existent' beings. It is far safer for Cohen to be on the side of the Ministry than to be against it. You'd do well to think about that."
With that, Crouch turned on his heel and strode out of the office.
"They've never been this dedicated when it came to fighting Voldemort," Cohen said.
Edward said nothing, his head lowered, seemingly pondering Crouch's words.
Pop!
Cohen flicked Edward's clenched right fist with a finger.
"What?" Edward asked, startled from his thoughts.
"Are you thinking about reluctantly cooperating with the Ministry?" Cohen asked curiously.
"No," Edward shook his head. "Crouch wouldn't threaten us with something that doesn't exist, would he?"
"It exists, I heard Umbridge and Fudge talking about it privately," Cohen said. Not just that conversation—Cohen remembered from the Harry Potter books that the Department of Mysteries indeed had a tank full of living brains, though no one ever knew what they were for. "They developed a tank of brains that they said could kill Dementors."
After a long silence, Edward let out a soft sigh.
"Your father won't let those monstrous things harm you," Edward said, stroking Cohen's hair.
"I'm fifteen," Cohen said, though he didn't pull away from Edward's hand. "Do whatever you want. I'll listen to you this time."
---
He had been planning this for so long!
Finally!
On the way back from the second floor to the eighth, Cohen had to work very hard to keep the smug, triumphant look off his face.
Edward finally had some ambition, and Cohen would finally get what he wanted: to be the son of a powerful wizard...
Not long after Crouch left, Edward went to Dumbledore's office to discuss changing the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in a few months.
"Why are you so happy?"
In the common room, the Earl was still drawing blueprints for Cohen, grumbling to himself. "Usually, when you're happy, it's not a good thing."
"Edward's finally making something of himself," Cohen said with satisfaction. "I think he wants to go for the Minister for Magic position."
"I knew it," the Earl scoffed. "Soon, the two of you will be even more terrifying rulers than Voldemort himself. How does he plan on doing it? By actually seizing power?"
"Probably with my help," Cohen said. "But I'm not entirely sure how big Edward's social circle is... maybe he can do it all on his own..."
"Alright, the blueprint you wanted is done."
The Earl dropped his wand with a sense of relief. The quill that had been hovering in the air, writing and sketching on the paper, fell as well.
"I have to go wait for my wife to nest now—"
"Lay some eggs, and don't let the other owls laugh at you," Cohen said. "My kid will be here soon."
"I'm not competing with you!" the Earl said angrily. "You asexual, little Dementor—"
"If you're bad at something, you should just practice more," Cohen said, his nose in the air.
---
On Saturday evening, Cohen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
It had been temporarily transformed into a room with several large sandboxes.
Cohen immediately recognized the models in the clear boxes as the very same live Dungeons & Dragons tabletop game that Edward had given him for his eleventh birthday.
Now, it had been mass-produced as the club's "toys."
"What are those? The things inside seem to be moving!" Harry said, surprised, peering through the glass of one of the display cases at a mountain gorge.
"Dragons!" Ron said. "And dragon slayers—wait—they look like they're dead—"
"It looks a bit like a magical video game," Hermione said, also intrigued. "These little clay figures must have been made with a very complex Transfiguration spell. They can even talk to each other—are those Weather-Modifying Charms colliding? How did Professor Norton get them to run like a program?"
"You'd be surprised what a wizard who's into that sort of thing can do," Cohen said. "Luckily, I've already tried it out. You can use your wand to control the little figures and go on adventures."
"What?" Ron nudged Cohen with his elbow. "That's not fair! You didn't invite us to play—"
"Because I gave my box to my uncle," Cohen said. "He was in prison at the time, and I wanted to give him something to pass the time. It's really fun, though."