Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 261 The normal magic and dark magic in this body perfectly cancel each other out.
"..."

Voldemort didn't speak—he shouldn't have overestimated Cohen.

Cohen's past behavior always gave people the impression that he was not at all like a child, to the point that Voldemort always regarded Cohen as a "partner".

A normal business partner wouldn't be so eager to show off a meticulously crafted magical toilet at the crucial moment when they're about to be resurrected.

"Be normal," Voldemort said helplessly.

"Boring." Cohen was very disappointed with Voldemort.

Not everyone has the taste to appreciate a talking toilet.

Cohen decided to add some more impressive abilities to the toilet, such as adding a magic wand to the water tank that had lost its original function.

This toilet will cast a curse on a robber who breaks into the house but suddenly can't hold his pee—even the most ruthless robber or the most cunning thief won't urinate or defecate anywhere in the house when they need to, if they can find a toilet.

#The Great Alchemist Cohen Speaks on Human Weaknesses for the 260th Time#
“Nothing on the body is as unique as this toilet.” Cohen covered the toilet, walked to the workbench, and lifted another white cloth covering it.

Since the white sheet was covering a "body," it looked like Voldemort had just died and was about to be pushed into the morgue.

“It’s fairly normal…” Voldemort examined the new body. “At least there’s nothing wrong with it—but…”

"Where are your clothes? Are you going to leave me naked?!"

"What's wrong, are you shy?"

Cohen said nonchalantly,

"I sculpted it to my exact measurements. How is it? Are you satisfied?"

Which dark wizard in history would be ashamed of this!
And... how could a child be that big!

Voldemort felt that if he had a physical body, he would probably be so angry that his head would ache.

Patience, patience.

It's just a little bit of weathering—at least it's a usable body, just a bit too big and completely naked after being resurrected.
And no one else saw it...

“Then I’ll take it…” Voldemort said.

"Wait a minute, let me activate this body's vital signs." Cohen drew his wand and tapped the body's chest. "All done."

As Cohen touched it, the "flesh puppet" began to breathe unconsciously, looking like a dead person coming back to life.

Voldemort eagerly crawled inside—the body easily accommodated his soul, and the feeling of life surged back into it.

He managed to climb off Cohen's workbench, twisting his neck like a snake, and began to feel again—

"You should put some clothes on. Walking around like this makes me feel like I'm in a public bathhouse." Cohen, covering his eyes, handed the tall, thin guy a set of old clothes from the Room of Requirement—he shouldn't have let him be shirtless; Voldemort's resurrection was supposed to be a serious, apocalyptic event…

But when Voldemort, naked, was reveling in the bliss of resurrection less than a meter away, Cohen regretted for the first time why he hadn't dressed him in clothes beforehand.

"As I said before... I will reward you." Voldemort's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice tinged with coldness.

If he weren't currently pulling up his pants, he could actually be a bit intimidating. Voldemort's current act of pulling his pants up while talking about a reward makes him look like a greasy old man who's just finished and is about to pay the bill.

“There definitely needs to be a reward.” Cohen’s lips twitched. “It took a lot of materials: my blood, the basilisk’s venom, the Nightmare’s liquid curse, the chimera’s fur…”

“So that’s how it is…” After Voldemort finished dressing, he raised his hand to examine the body closely, feeling the powerful magical animal bloodlines within it… but he soon realized something was wrong.

Have I been dead for too long? Why can't I feel any magic?
"I even went to the unicorn and got several vials of unicorn blood. I also went to Dumbledore's office and beat up Fawkes, making him shed a whole bottle of tears..." Cohen made up the story.

"Unicorn blood... Phoenix tears... Wait a minute!" Voldemort's pupils instantly shrank to a vertical line:
"What did you add at the end?!"

"Unicorn blood and phoenix... Oh!"

Cohen feigned surprise and covered his mouth.

"Isn't it a bit inappropriate to add the last one...?"

“You…” Voldemort felt his breathing becoming labored—damn it, now he understood why this body had absolutely no magic left.

“But on the bright side… at least the bloodlines of these magical creatures and the dark magic experiment subjects have perfectly fused.” Cohen’s gaze drifted to the side. “This body didn’t explode, which means it’s already a product of the same level as me—”

"Isn't this all for nothing?!" Voldemort's fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

To put it bluntly, this body is no different from a Muggle's!

Who is he? Voldemort! The Dark Lord who makes the entire British wizarding world tremble!
Now that he's resurrected and turned into a Muggle, hasn't his lifelong reputation been ruined?!
"Be careful!" Cohen looked at Voldemort's hands, which were cracking from being squeezed so tightly, with extreme concern. "This body is expensive! If you don't like it, you can commit suicide—I'll spend some more time making another one..."

"How long will it take to get the next body?" Voldemort's chest heaved violently, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack.

"Six or seven years, I think," Cohen said.

“You only used this body for a week!” Voldemort glared at Cohen and said.

“That’s because it contains the most crucial ingredient. Nicolas Flamel left half a bottle of the elixir of immortality, which is the most important part for creating the body. The other magical creature ingredients are just side dishes,” Cohen explained logically. “Just three drops are enough to grow a person…”

"Isn't there still half a bottle left?" Voldemort's voice was unusually calm—or perhaps he was so angry that his emotional system almost crashed.

"..."

"..."

"Say something!" Voldemort's pale face began to show faintly visible veins—he looked like he was about to explode.

“I used it on that talking toilet,” Cohen said.

Then, Voldemort uttered some old-fashioned swear words that Cohen had never heard of before—but he didn't make a move, because Voldemort knew that even if he did, his current Muggle body wouldn't be able to defeat Cohen.

What can I do if I'm angry? Should I really break ties with Cohen?
"But don't be so angry—with Nicolas Flamel's hands-on teaching, it's easy for me to make another Philosopher's Stone in a few years."

Cohen's feeble attempt at redress had little effect; Voldemort still seemed angry.
"We all have a long life ahead of us, no need to rush. If you're really worried about that prophecy, you can just wait until Harry dies of old age and is resurrected..."

(End of this chapter)