Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 239 Nicolas Flamel's Wonderful House
The Daily Prophet always reports very quickly. Cohen killed Barty Jr. in the middle of Christmas night, and the next morning's newspaper had the headline "Chief Crouch once again kills his own family member for the greater good."

"How can someone betray their own family twice for the greater good?"

Edward nearly choked on his milk because of this news while reading the newspaper at breakfast.

"I feel like the last time I saw Crouch 'sacrifice his own family for the greater good,' the Daily Prophet had a similar headline—'Isn't Barty Jr. already dead?'"

“Politicians like to repeatedly use their strengths to win people over,” Cohen said with a knowing look as he ate a fried egg. “Watch closely, learn from this, Secretary Norton.”

“Study hard, Ed, to prepare yourself for becoming Minister of Magic.” Martha agreed with Cohen.

“If you mean killing your own son twice, then it’s best never to learn that kind of thing,” Edward said with a long face. “Even if Cohen were wanted, I wouldn’t even think about sending him to jail—if I were old Barty, I’d definitely take my son and run away with him.”

"Do you really need to start thinking about family plans now that Cohen is wanted?" Rose said sternly. "Don't set any evil goals for Cohen."

“Listen to Rose, Ed, don’t set any evil goals for Cohen,” Martha also sternly reminded Edward.

“Listen to your wife and mother, Ed. Don’t set any evil goals for Cohen,” Cohen chimed in.

“How dare you call me Ed?” Edward retorted to Cohen, feigning anger.
-
Considering Dumbledore's earlier warning that "Nico Flamel has a gift," Cohen carried the key that Nico had given him with him for the rest of Christmas, so that he could sense the changes in the key as soon as possible and rush to collect Nico's inheritance.

On the last day of the Christmas holidays, the key changed.

The old key, which had been somewhat dull, began to shine, gleaming with a brass-colored metallic luster.

According to Nico, simply inserting this key into any door will open the passage to Nico's workshop.

"Can it really be inserted into any door?"

The Count stood on the edge of Cohen's bed, watching with great curiosity Cohen fiddling with the magical key at the bedroom door.

“I know what you’re going to say next,” Cohen said without turning his head, “but you’re not allowed to say anything more, and you’re not allowed to interfere with my current interest in alchemy.”

Cohen's bedroom has a lock, but Cohen never locks it, and Edward and Rose never suddenly barge into Cohen's room except when they secretly bring him Christmas presents.

Cohen began his first attempt.

The key was inserted into a completely mismatched keyhole in a very strange way, as if the keyhole it came into contact with had lost some kind of material "rules".

With a slight turn, the lock clicked open.

When Cohen opened the door again, he was no longer facing the hallway outside his bedroom.

This is a fairly spacious round room, and its appearance is quite unique.

A rotating astrolabe was embedded in the ceiling, and the stars emitted a soft glow, projecting a magical blue star trail.

Many round glass jars burning with ancient celestial fire are irregularly distributed along the edge of the dome, moving with the stars—as if the entire universe were crammed into this roof.

The air was filled with a strange blend of sulfur, ambergris, and mint, and it was much warmer than Cohen's bedroom.

The copper gear set clicked and clattered in the wall, occasionally accompanied by the woodpecker-like tapping sound of a Nimbus CD burner. Around the wall were some curved tables, mostly piled with small bottles containing materials.

Unlike the alchemist's labs in other books, Nicolas Flamel's workshop didn't have those multi-tiered bookshelves—he himself was the most knowledgeable encyclopedia.

The shelves here are filled with all sorts of oddities: gold wriggling in transparent boxes, emerald-colored stone slabs, potions containing purple solutions... In the center of the room are several relatively prominent alchemy devices.

Although Cohen had never seen them, he seemed to have an innate knowledge of what they were.

A half-human-sized object, resembling a giant bronze tortoise and spewing golden-blue flames from its mouth—the Athanor Eternal—can melt thunderbird feathers, fairy mithril, and even the quicksand in the hourglass of time.

And a round platform, with metal discs corresponding to the seven planets embedded on its surface, and a slightly deep groove in the center, where some scarlet crystalline fragments still remain—a conversion platform, used to transform the properties of real matter.

In addition, there was an inverted cone-shaped crystal container suspended in the air, containing even half a bottle of pale golden liquid—this was the container for creating the elixir of immortality, which Nicolas Flamel hadn't even finished using, and which even had a line of text engraved on it:

Don't let the cat touch it—1642, Perenais

"So where is Nicolas Flamel?" Cohen looked around but found no other exits, nor any sign of Nicolas Flamel.

"They probably haven't gotten up yet." The count, who had followed him in, stopped at a table with a little space for standing.

"They're probably cooking," Cohen guessed. "Old people get up very early."

"He's probably dead." An old voice quipped.

"So soon?" Cohen asked. "They didn't even give me a final farewell or anything..."

“Parting is always sad, child,” Nico’s voice said. “Young people don’t need to accept this pain too early.”

Following the sound, I found a thick book—its cover had been replaced by a framed photograph.

Nicolas Flamel is waving to Cohen on the cover.

“This book is my gift to you,” Nico said with a smile. “Compared to a dry and boring alchemy notebook, I think leaving behind my memories is far more effective than any words.”

"Then can you visit the portraits at Hogwarts?" Cohen asked curiously. "If I take you to Hogwarts, you can also talk to Dumbledore often..."

“Unfortunately, no.” Nico shook his head. “I am not a portrait. A portrait is a mixture of paint and memory—I am pure memory, without paint as a carrier, so I cannot leave this book.”

“But I think my life won’t be too boring with you,” Nicole added, “as long as you don’t stuff me in a suitcase and never take me out for a year…”

“If you also chat with Cohen, then I’m useless, aren’t I?” the count said warily.

“I won’t allow you to talk about yourself like that,” Cohen said to the Earl.

"Touched." Although the count didn't know what Cohen was going to say next, he knew that the kid was never going to say anything nice.

……

"and then?"

The Earl found it hard to believe that Cohen hadn't said another word.

Are you really trying to comfort me?

“Huh? No,” Cohen said. “What I mean is, you’ve never been very useful, so Nico’s appearance won’t diminish your value…”

(End of this chapter)