In the end, it was the only wand in the entire shop that had dared to face Cohen directly. Not buying it felt almost like letting Mr. Ollivander down after the old wandmaker had bustled back and forth so enthusiastically.
After paying seven Galleons, Cohen and Edward stepped out of Ollivander's wand shop.
Cohen turned the wand over in his hand, studying it thoughtfully. It took him a while to realize that the "soul" within the wand seemed capable of only very simple emotional responses—things like "I like this wizard, so I'll stay with him for life" or "I dislike this wizard, so I won't cooperate."
But now, Cohen suspected a new emotion could be added to that list: fear.
More specifically, the instinct to flee when encountering something like a Dementor—an urge to avoid harm at all costs.
Considering the rule that a wand could change allegiance if its owner was defeated, Cohen came to an oddly mechanical conclusion.
Wands were like intelligent door locks.
If their owner stood strong, they remained loyal. But if someone stronger came along and defeated the owner at the door, the lock would simply… open for the victor.
Fence-sitters.
They possessed a degree of intelligence, but not enough to be admirable.
The rest of their shopping went smoothly. Textbooks, wizard robes, cauldrons, and potion ingredients didn't panic or scatter at Cohen's presence—unlike certain other magical objects.
The only exception was the Monster Book of Monsters.
Originally, it had been thrashing violently inside its iron cage, tearing at its own pages like a feral creature. But the moment Cohen stepped into Flourish and Blotts, the book fell completely silent.
It shrank into the corner of its cage, trembling as if it had encountered something far more dangerous than itself.
[Soul Strength: 5]
Pathetic, Cohen had thought at the time.
The shop assistant, who had been helping Cohen gather his books, noticed the sudden change as well. Seeing the once-aggressive book reduced to a quivering mess, he immediately decided that Cohen must be some kind of lucky charm.
Without hesitation, he secretly slipped Cohen two Galleons and seven Sickles, practically begging him to take the book away.
The assistant even rolled up his sleeves to show off the scars on his hands—now healed, but still visible reminders of past encounters.
"This thing is terrifying," he muttered under his breath. "I don't understand why the owner keeps it here. It's worse than Cornish Pixies—at least those don't bite!"
He continued grumbling as he packed the rest of the supplies.
"And just wait—this will probably become a Hogwarts textbook someday. Then we'll have to stock thousands of them. And who's going to manage them? The owner, of course. Because every assistant will have quit by then."
By the time they left the bookstore, Edward was pushing a cart piled high with books and supplies.
"Ah…" he groaned, stretching his back. "That's done. Next, we get you a pet."
He glanced at the Monster Book of Monsters lying quietly in the cart, his expression puzzled. It looked as lifeless as a discarded object.
"I finally understand why your grandmother hated taking me shopping," Edward added. "Buying school supplies for young wizards is exhausting."
Cohen said nothing, but a faint unease crept into his thoughts.
I just hope the animals aren't as timid as the wands…
That uneasy feeling only deepened.
From the memories he had inherited, ordinary animals weren't particularly afraid of him—as long as he didn't actively absorb their souls.
But magical creatures?
That was an entirely different question.
And one that would soon be answered.
The moment Cohen stepped into Eeylops Owl Emporium, the bustling noise of the shop vanished.
Dozens of owls, which had been hooting and fluttering moments before, fell completely silent.
"…Hmm?"
The shop owner—a middle-aged woman with curly hair—looked around in confusion. Then her gaze landed on Cohen as he walked in alone, a money pouch in hand.
Edward had stayed outside with the cart. The narrow shop only allowed one person to pass at a time, and Diagon Alley wasn't entirely free of thieves. Even in the magical world, greed still existed.
Perhaps the only place no one would dare to steal from was Gringotts.
"Hello," Cohen said calmly, as if nothing were unusual. "I'd like to buy an owl."
"Ah… yes…" the shop owner began, though her usual sales pitch faltered halfway through.
"All the owls here are very… lively…"
Her voice trailed off.
Because every single owl in the shop was now frozen stiff, pretending to be nothing more than decorative statues.
"…May I choose one myself?" Cohen asked politely.
Truthfully, he didn't really want to continue with the purchase. If the owls were this terrified of him, buying one would feel uncomfortably close to animal abuse.
Most of these owls had only two or three points of soul strength.
Compared to the Monster Book of Monsters—which had five—absorbing one would yield almost nothing. In fact, after absorbing the book, Cohen's soul completeness had increased by only 0.5%.
Killing a normal owl would bring even less benefit.
It would be like stealing candy from children—hardly worth the effort.
So what changed his mind?
Not the toffee dissolving in his mouth.
But the presence of two unusual owls among the rest.
The first was a pure white snowy owl.
[Soul Strength: 7]
Cohen's eyes lingered on it for a moment. He immediately suspected that this might be the very owl destined to belong to Harry in the future.
But it was the second owl that truly caught his attention.
A mottled brown Scops Owl, larger than the others, with distinct white "eyebrows" and small feather tufts resembling ears.
Of course, those weren't real ears. An owl's actual ears were hidden beneath the feathers on the sides of its head. If one were to part those feathers, they could even glimpse the creature's large, sensitive eyes through the openings.
[Soul Strength: 10]
Cohen paused.
Ten?
That wasn't normal.
Not even close.
This owl's soul strength rivaled—or perhaps exceeded—that of many magical creatures.
Curiosity flared within him.
And, interestingly, the owl seemed just as curious about him.
It stared directly at Cohen, its head slowly rotating ninety degrees to the side, as though examining an anomaly.
For a brief moment, an absurd thought crossed Cohen's mind.
It feels like this thing could suddenly pull a black, stick-like arm out from under its wing… grab a bag of potato chips… and start eating.
He blinked.
Why would there be potato chips in a wizarding world?
Shaking off the ridiculous thought, he turned to the shop owner.
"What's this one called?" he asked. "And how much does it cost?"
A short while later, Cohen stepped out of the shop holding the owl.
Edward looked at it skeptically.
"…Isn't that owl a bit old?" he asked, frowning.
Compared to the younger, smaller owls, this one was noticeably larger and more mature.
"It's called Earl," Cohen replied. "The owner said it's been here for three years. If it doesn't sell soon, it might be sent to the Owl Post Office to do odd jobs."
Edward nodded slowly.
"…That's kind of pitiful. Is that why you bought it?"
"No," Cohen said without hesitation, shaking his head.
"Because it only cost ten Sickles. The others were at least two Galleons."
Edward blinked.
"…Of course."
Cohen adjusted his grip on the owl, his expression calm.
In truth, he had gotten an extraordinary bargain.
An owl with such an abnormally high soul strength—for a mere ten Sickles—was practically a steal.
Even if he couldn't uncover the secret behind it, there was always another option.
When it grew old, he could… make use of it.
In both a spiritual sense—
And a physical one.