Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 266 "Give me some money. Remember, it's a gift, not a loan. I'm not that easy to talk to."

But Cohen didn't call him out on it—it's not easy for him to go on such a long trip, it's good for him to get some exercise.

The small wooden boats sailed calmly across the lake. If you ignore the strange fog that lingered even in the afternoon and the island's quiet, graveyard-like atmosphere, it still feels like a great place for tourism.

"Be careful when you get off the boat, don't fall overboard," Mr. Crow reminded them. "I can't swim."

"Is it because I haven't been paying much attention to the entertainment industry these days?" The old man in the suit frowned and asked his son in a low voice, "I don't understand why this person's hood can blink... and move his mouth."

"Maybe they're from the circus?" the young man replied casually, his attention entirely focused on the two sisters, because the Beatrice sisters' radiant light blonde hair, lively and playful personality, and delicate faces were indeed very attractive to young men his age.

The two sisters' gazes, however, fell upon Mr. Crow.

“What a cheesy love triangle,” Cohen remarked, instinctively siding with “Mr. Burton.” He clicked his tongue. “Have you taken a fancy to anyone here? Those two sisters are actually alright, and I don’t think Mr. Raven would ever agree to date them…”

"You learned 'love triangles' in school too?" Mr. Burton's lips twitched.

"That white-bearded old man who taught me was always a pervert, and he liked to stalk his students," Cohen said confidently, smearing Dumbledore. "He even stole from his predecessor—"

“I don’t believe it,” Mr. Burton said dryly.

“Then you must be missing a lot of interesting things in your life,” Cohen sighed regretfully. “The habit of spreading rumors and joining in the fun is ingrained in human nature. Seeing others embarrassed gives people a sinful pleasure of releasing their true nature—as long as the rumors and the fun aren’t directed at themselves.”

The chat time was short, as the tour guide had already discussed the follow-up arrangements with Mr. Crow. "Come with me," the tour guide waved to them. "I've already booked your rooms in advance."

The Last Inn was not far from them.

The middle-aged father and son were the first to catch up with the tour guide. Older Deng, in his suit, just wanted to find a room to rest, while younger Deng was preoccupied with how to divert the Beatrice sisters' attention from that damned crow waiter.

The Beatrice sisters also successfully took the first step:
“My working hours are from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.,” Mr. Crow said. “I live in room 103, which is a very expensive place.”

"Is this a sale? This is clearly a sale!"

Cohen stared wide-eyed at Mr. Raven.

“What?” Mr. Burton stared wide-eyed at Cohen.

Mr. Burton had intended to give the wayward Cohen a flick on the forehead—but considering his current position, he withdrew his hand.

endure.

The group crossed the iron fence outside the hotel, which was overgrown with vines, and entered through the hotel's double wooden doors.

The hotel doesn't look very tall from the outside, only four stories high—but because it occupies almost the entire island, the actual usable area is so large that a lakeside hotel couldn't possibly use it all.

Upon entering, you are greeted by a Victorian retro style that is affected and ornate, yet undeniably exudes a sense of "high-class."

The dark brown wooden walls were adorned with motionless abstract portraits, and a crystal chandelier hung from the carved ceiling, the bright light making the dark red carpet on the floor appear less gloomy.

The front desk in the lobby was empty—but soon someone appeared. Mr. Crow walked over and, without even changing his clothes, was able to switch jobs to become a front desk attendant.

"You wouldn't happen to be the owner of this hotel, would you?" Old Deng in the suit seemed somewhat dissatisfied with the service.

Even the staff have to do multiple jobs, which gives you an idea of ​​the economic situation here and the quality of service that can be provided. "I'm just a boatman and a waiter," Mr. Crow said.

"Dad, the newspaper said the hotel's service is alright, don't be so picky..." the young man quickly advised.

"Here are the tickets." The tour guide pulled a stack of bright green tickets from his bag. "Total..."

As he spoke, the tour guide counted the number of people—fully demonstrating the British people's poor math skills.

"One, two, three, four... There are four households in total—"

“And you too,” the Beatrice sisters said with a grin. “You forgot to count yourself.”

“Five people…and what about you?” Cohen suddenly turned to Mr. Burton, giving him a suspicious look.

"I just joined the team today, I haven't bought my ticket yet... I haven't bought my ticket yet..." Mr. Burton hurriedly took out some money from his pocket and exchanged it with Mr. Raven for a ticket—

“A ticket is required to check in, and it costs ten pounds a night.” Mr. Raven stared intently at Cohen.

“Pounds?” Cohen suddenly remembered—

I don't think I brought any Muggle money with me.

Damn it, does Silver Key have to act this realistically? What's the point of collecting Muggle money...?

"Are you a foreigner?" Old Deng in the suit looked at Cohen with a questioning gaze. "No money?"

“I’ll pay for you…” Mr. Burton said reluctantly, “How many nights are you staying? You can have your mother pay me back later…”

You, Edward, are you hiding your secret stash of money?
Rose is going to pay it back? Cohen's ears were ringing from all the calculations.

"This kid's just trying to freeload," the old man in the suit said angrily. "Don't be fooled—traveling alone without a guardian? He's probably a repeat offender—"

Cohen ignored the fuming old man and expertly extended his hand to Mr. Burton, saying:

“Give me seventy pounds. Remember, it’s a gift, not a loan. I’m not that easy to talk to.”
-
After buying the tickets, Cohen took the Earl to room 207—Mr. Burton had specifically chosen room 206, which was very close to Cohen's.

The hotel room was simply decorated, with a dark red four-poster bed, a cedar wood drawer table against the wall, and a small round table facing the window.

A grandfather clock stands in the corner; the time is 3:12—there's still some time before dinner.

"You're taking money with you after eating..." the Earl complained. "Those who know you will think Mr. Burton is paying for your meal, but those who don't will think you're lending him money..."

“I’ve tested you so obviously, and you still haven’t figured it out?” Cohen took the basket containing Flandre out of his pocket again, answering the count’s question while confirming the location of Flandre’s soul.

"Testing what?" the Earl asked. "He is indeed a bit strange—do you think he would be one of the Silver Key's men?"

“Silver key my ass.” Cohen’s lips twitched. “He’s Edward.”

(End of this chapter)