As everyone knows, if something looks like a Dementor, has the abilities of a Dementor, and even thinks it's a Dementor, then it is a Dementor…
Cohen bought this necklace, which, while seemingly useless, was actually not very effective.
Its strength was irrelevant; it was simply cool.
And Cohen couldn't wait to rush to the Room of Requirement with his backpack full of homework to try it out—although Cohen was currently in a playful mood, if he didn't do his homework soon, he would at least receive two detentions tomorrow: Transfiguration and Herbalism.
"Guy gu!"
The Earl, who had been dozing, was startled awake by the sudden appearance of a black cloaked creature that almost filled the entire room, and began frantically banging against the still-closed window, trying to escape.
"It's me…"
Cohen canceled the transformation; it seemed this basic Dementor disguise device was working very well.
"You fucking enjoy scaring a bird, huh?!"
The Earl, annoyed that the giant Dementor had suddenly shrunk into a smug-looking child, snapped at Cohen.
"My patience has its limits!"
"..."
Cohen transformed back into a Dementor.
Even though the Earl already knew it was Cohen and had just experienced a fright, he was still startled a second time by Cohen's sudden, silent transformation.
Just as the Earl instinctively jumped back and nearly fell under the table, Cohen transformed back.
"You bastard—"
The Earl wanted to grab Cohen by the nose.
"Hehe." Cohen said cutely.
"'Hehe'—what the fuck does that mean?!"
The Earl decided to abandon the warm room and go back to the owlhouse—at least a Dementor wouldn't suddenly jump out of the owlhouse.
[Ding! Sin Value +1]
[Note: You're completely inhuman, aren't you?] Cohen
enthusiastically opened the window for the Earl, watched him fly to the Owl's Hut, then comfortably sat by the fireplace and piled his homework on the table the Earl had just been sitting on. Cohen had originally planned to do it in the common room—but after discovering Cohen's talent for pranks, George insisted on taking him to steal things from Filch.
According to George, Filch's contraband contained many valuable items; the Hogwarts Marauder's Map that he and Fred had been using was taken from the "Confiscated Supplies, High Danger" drawer.
Cohen really wanted to go—if tomorrow wasn't Monday.
"Alright, let's start with the Transfiguration homework!"
Cohen rubbed his hands together, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote a title on the unfolded parchment:
"The Influence of Magic Input on Transfiguration Results"
...
...
"Should I write to Rose? She seems to have asked me to write a letter every week..."
Cohen suddenly thought after writing the first letter, M, of the paper.
He felt that compared to homework... family was more important.
"Dear Rose…and Edward…if you were here too…"
Cohen pulled over another piece of parchment, biting the tip of a feather as he wrote.
"I'm doing very well at Hogwarts…the teachers and classmates are all very friendly…I've made many animal friends…but they all ignore me…"
…
Ten minutes later, Cohen had filled a ten-inch "letter home."
After folding the letter and stuffing it into the prepared envelope, Cohen's gaze lingered for a moment on the paper, which didn't contain a single complete word.
"Never mind, I'll mail the letter first."
Cohen decided to come back and write later—if he hadn't angered the Earl, he would have had to run halfway up the castle to the Owl's Hut in the West Tower. After spending
half an hour successfully delivering the letter to the Owl's Hut, and another ten minutes or so calming the Earl down, Cohen watched the Earl fly away with satisfaction in the cold wind atop the castle.
It seemed he had used up all his excuses for procrastination…
Cohen shuffled down the stairs toward the main castle—
"Oh, Mr. Norton…"
Quirrell's stammering voice came from behind Cohen as he passed the third floor.
"Almost forgot!"
Cohen suddenly remembered he had a one-on-one dark magic tutoring session this afternoon:
"Thank God!"
Then, a bewildered Quirrell was forced into the office by Cohen, who was eager for class.
Quirrell then watched as Cohen busied himself cleaning his own desk with Quirrell's own tools, and even helped him, the "teacher," into his seat.
Quirrell felt like Cohen was teaching him, not him.
"Come on, let's get straight to class!"
Cohen asked expectantly:
"What should we learn first? Imperius? Cruciatus Curse? Forget about the Death Curse—I already know it…"
"…"
Quirrell was adjusting his speech; there was no need to continue stammering in front of Cohen.
As the Dark Lord had said, he could get closer to this kid—Cohen was a Death Eater that the Dark Lord favored.
A thirst for power, an evil heart, and a soul a mixture of various dark magic creatures.
"I remember you initially wanted to learn—the Necromancer's Charm? Right?"
Quirrell carefully observed Cohen's expression. The Dark Lord's orders were simple: teach him what he could, do everything possible to coax Cohen to his side.
Then take Cohen to kill—to completely ensnare Cohen in dark magic.
After all, a mere "delayed death curse" wouldn't fool this child for long; in reality, Quirrell had only cast a tracking spell on Cohen last time.
"Oh..." Cohen visibly showed disappointment. "Alright then, do you have any corpses here? It seems difficult to practice without them, so how about we go—"
"I have some, I have some!"
Quirrell quickly replied.
"Where's the guy with the missing nose on the back of your head?" Cohen peered at Quirrell's head. "I thought he'd come and teach me."
"The spells aren't too profound right now, I can teach you…" Quirrell didn't reveal that Voldemort was currently weak, trying to create the illusion that Voldemort was powerful and rarely showed himself.
Unfortunately, Cohen knew everything.
Necromancy is dark magic that resurrects corpses—but not truly resurrects them, but uses magic to drive the dead to serve the caster.
This kind of magic is almost impossible for a novice wizard to cast successfully.
But Cohen seemed to have an extremely terrifying talent for dark magic—a stark contrast to his repeated failures when trying to cast advanced spells from the *Compendium of Positive Magic*.
"Am I really a born bad seed?"
Cohen raised an eyebrow, looking at the unknown Muggle corpse slowly rising under his control.
"A very successful spell, Mr. Norton—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Cohen cast a killing curse on the newly resurrected corpse.
A flash of green light appeared, and Quirrell's expression mirrored that of the glaring corpse.
Since the resurrected corpse was merely an inanimate object, the killing curse exploded on it, instantly reducing it to dust.
"It's a pity it's too weak. I can't have useless subordinates," Cohen said, his brow furrowed.
The Infernal wasn't as strong as he'd imagined. A dark magic creation that could give the Ministry of Magic a headache should at least have some special abilities, right? But the Infernal
was only slightly stronger; otherwise, it was no different from ordinary people—it was even afraid of light and fire.
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(End of Chapter)