Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 270 Time Converter (4000 words)
"What the hell?" Old Deng in the suit snatched the small note from Ron's hand, but after looking at it for a long time, he still couldn't figure out what it meant.

"One person dies... another receives a revelation... what does 'revelation' mean?" Xiao Deng asked疑惑地, "Is it some kind of code?"

“No, I don’t know…” Miss Beatrice wept beside her sister’s body. “It must have been him—he must have come to my sister’s room last night and done something—he only left my room for my sister’s around midnight—”

"You mean his ** is poisonous?" Cohen tilted his head and asked Miss Beatrice.

“I’m not poisonous,” Mr. Crow said calmly.

"Be normal!" Edward growled at Cohen, pulling him from the bedside to behind him.

"Are you defending this waitress?" Old Deng looked at Cohen suspiciously. "Are you also involved in this woman's death? Why aren't you afraid—"

“He has absolutely nothing to do with this whole thing. What crime did he commit?” Seeing someone suspecting his son, Edward immediately defended Cohen, saying, “Don’t just attack anyone you can find—”

"How dare you talk to my dad like that?" Seeing his father being scolded, Xiao Deng glared at Edward and said fiercely, "Don't you have any manners—"

“Who’s lacking manners?” Cohen said mercilessly. “It was your dad who first suspected me without any basis. That’s just ‘biting anyone who comes along.’ It’s not your fault that your dad has a mental illness, but it is your fault that he’s allowed to go around suspecting people.”

"Then explain why you'd be alone in such a remote hotel?" Old Deng completely ignored the argument and immediately focused his suspicions on Cohen. "And your friends—the ship sank as soon as they arrived, and the hotel's communications were cut off..."

"We didn't do anything!" Harry said anxiously, trying to clear his name.

“Shouldn’t the most crucial issue right now be about the cause of Beatrice’s death?” Hermione raised her voice, trembling. “We’re trapped on the island! And there’s a real possibility that there’s a murderer here—if we keep suspecting each other without any basis, we’ll definitely be killed one by one!”

“You seem to know a lot about the killer’s plans, kid,” Old Deng said, his eyes darkening as he stared at Hermione, causing her to take a step back.

"I'd rather worry that the killer is you during your episode than that the killer is a child," Edward said angrily.

Old Deng wanted to say something more, but a chill ran through him—and then he felt as if he had been suddenly stuffed into a freezer.

It felt as if all the happiness in the world had left me.

"Dad? Dad?" Xiao Deng saw his father suddenly fall silent and quickly helped him up, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Can you smell anything?" Ron suddenly sniffed. "It smells like..."

"The smell of blood." Harry's breathing quickened, and he instinctively reached for his wand in his back pocket.

"It's from the corpse." Edward looked warily at the dead body on the bed.

Blood was seeping from the bed beneath the body, leaving a dark red stain.

"Waaah..." Miss Beatrice cried even harder as she looked at her sister's corpse.

They discovered a gruesome wound on the back of Ms. Beatrice, who was lying on the bed.

“It seems your ** is indeed not poisonous,” Cohen said regretfully to Mr. Raven.

I thought this doll was filled with a liquid curse like me—but if it were a liquid curse, both Beatrice ladies should have died, and their bodies wouldn't be so well-preserved.

"Why do you look so disappointed?" Harry asked Cohen in alarm.

Currently, Mr. Crow is the most likely culprit.

Strangely enough, under the unreasonable demands of Old Deng, Little Deng, and Miss Beatrice, Mr. Raven agreed without any resistance to their request to lock him in a small room.

“I can understand your suspicions,” Mr. Raven said, letting Little Deng tie his hands with rope. “But you will soon find out that I am not the murderer.”

"We'll find out then," Old Deng said viciously.

"That's really creepy," Xiao Deng sighed. "I just wanted to take my dad on a vacation..."

"Waaah..." Miss Beatrice was still crying for her sister's death.

Cohen squinted and looked at the woman who had just lost her sister a few more times.

A bit strange—

"Let's go back to the room, I have something on my mind..."

Cohen led Edward, Harry, and the others back to Room 207.

The Chimera Beast has returned, and is gnawing on the ground with a crocodile carcass.

“Ugh…” Harry said, frowning, “Do we really have to… tear it apart in bed…?”

“Crocodile skin is hard to digest, children,” the goat explained. “Lions like soft dens, and I’ll clean them for you later.”

"What discovery?" Edward was more concerned about the "idea" Cohen had mentioned. "A Muggle died—no matter what happened here, we'll probably be investigated by the Ministry of Magic... but I can find someone to help erase your whereabouts—so you don't have trouble explaining your truancy to the Ministry..."

“The blood from that body didn’t soak through the sheets until we got there,” Cohen said bluntly. “The timing of the death was suspicious—of course, I’m not saying that Crowhead was a good guy, I’m just saying that these Muggles aren’t any better.”

“You mean, it was Muggles who killed Ms. Beatrice?” Harry asked. “No wonder that old man suddenly started suspecting everyone…”

“But there must be a silver key behind this anomaly,” Cohen said. “The Muggles may just be being used as pawns—but one thing is certain: even if you lock up Crowhead, people will still die, and today is no exception.”

“‘One dies, another receives revelation,’” Hermione pondered. “That sounds like alchemy—Cohen, have you heard Nicolas Flamel say anything like that?”

“Nicole certainly wouldn’t mention such a thing.” Cohen’s lips twitched. “This is another way of working for the legendary elixir of immortality. The elixir is divided into two parts, which need to be drunk by two beings. One will die, and the other will live forever—while the Philosopher’s Stone can also live forever without such mystical methods.”

“But Miss Beatrice was murdered!” Harry asked, puzzled. “If she died from poisoning… there shouldn’t be such a big wound on her back…”

“Wait a minute…” Hermione glanced at the clock, then muttered a few numbers to herself, “Midnight… 7:30… eight hours…”

"I've got it!" Hermione took a deep breath, her gaze shifting between Harry and Cohen for a moment before finally pulling Cohen aside: "Cohen, could you come out for a bit? I have an idea—"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

“Leave the dangerous tasks to me,” Edward said seriously. “You’re still young, and this place is far less safe than Hogwarts…”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Cohen said noncommittally. “There are no basilisks, werewolves, or Voldemort here…”

“There’s a way we can find out who the killer is,” Hermione said. “We’ll only go to the next room for two minutes and be right back—”

"Then can we go together?" Ron asked worriedly. "You said yourself that being alone would be dangerous..."

“There can’t be too many people,” Hermione said. “Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?” “Of course,” Harry replied, though he really wanted to go with them, “but…”

“Then you come along too.” Cohen pulled Harry up with him.

"What about me? What about me?!" Ron's eyes widened.

“Ron, I really can’t—you know, just wait two more minutes—” Hermione pleaded with Ron with great difficulty.

“I understand,” Ron said curtly. “You can go now.”

“I really…” Hermione said sadly, “I’m sorry, Ron…”

"Protect my dad," Cohen reassured Ron. "Next time, I'll definitely—"

“I’m the only adult wizard in this house, right…” Edward said, pursing his lips.

“It’s alright, it has nothing to do with age.” Cohen patted Edward’s stomach reassuringly. “It’s just that you’re past the age of taking risks.”

Cohen, Harry, and Hermione temporarily left the room and went into room 208, which Harry and his friends had originally rented but had not yet stayed in.

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled a thin gold chain from her collar, from which hung a small, rotating hourglass.

“This is a time-twister—we can use it to go back in time,” Hermione said nervously, “up to twelve hours.”

“You mean we can use this to go back to the time when Lady Beatrice was murdered…” Harry asked in surprise, “But… where did this come from?”

Cohen kept staring at it—the Time-Turner, the most incredible thing in the Harry Potter world.

Time is thus manipulated by magic—a "time reversal spell" fixed to an hourglass can take a wizard back to the past.

A tangible past, and the ability to influence it.

Cohen had wanted to borrow it from Hermione to study it, but he hadn't had a suitable and convincing reason.

“I got it from Professor McGonagall when I returned to school, and I’ve relied on it to get through all my classes this year,” Hermione explained. “Professor McGonagall made me swear not to tell anyone, and she wrote many letters to the Ministry of Magic to prove that I was a model student and would never use it for anything other than my studies…”

“We can save her,” Harry said excitedly. “And we can thwart that silver key's plot—they definitely want to use Muggle lives to buy their own immortality…”

"Don't get so excited!" Hermione said sternly. "When we go back in time, we can't let anyone see us, including our past selves!"

“Just put on the Invisibility Cloak,” Harry said. “Great, Hermione.”

"Are we going to Ms. Beatrice's room...?" Cohen sensed a familiar scene was about to unfold. "Shouldn't you guys be mentally prepared...?"

"What mental preparation?" Harry asked, puzzled.

“She… um…” Hermione hesitated, “Harry, didn’t you hear the other Beatrice arguing with Mr. Raven? They… asked for some special services…”

“You’ll understand eventually anyway.” Cohen shook his head. “Harry, you can consider this a preview—to be honest, I saw something similar at Combe Castle last time—except I didn’t see the whole thing then—”

“Don’t let anyone see us,” Hermione warned as a final reminder. “We need to get started quickly, or we might have to set the timeline further back… Professor McGonagall warned me that the longer the timeline is set, the greater the danger…”

“Let’s get started,” Cohen said.

Hermione untied the chains from the Time-Turner, and the three of them huddled together, the chains encircling them.

"One, two, three..." Hermione carefully turned the hourglass in the middle of the Time-Turner eight times.

The scene in the room was changing rapidly; blurry colors and shapes flashed past the three people, like a video being rewound at high speed.

Once the time rewind was complete, they stood steadily in the pitch-black room.

"Fluorescent." Hermione drew her wand and glanced at the clock in the room. "11:30, half an hour to go."

“Exciting,” Cohen said with curiosity. “I want to see just how much fun those two sisters’ ‘robust’ Mr. Raven really have.”

"We must, absolutely must not be seen by anyone—especially ourselves," Hermione said.

“No way,” Harry said. “We’ve been in our rooms all night—what about you, Cohen?”

“Me too,” Cohen said. “I went to bed early, around midnight.”

After donning the invisibility cloak, the three carefully left room 208.

The corridor was deserted, but the lights were still on, and the doorplates on both sides reflected a dazzling light.

As they passed room 204 wearing the invisibility cloak, they could still hear faint breathing sounds—it was clear that Miss Beatrice had indeed been living a very comfortable life before her sister's accident.

“Here…” Hermione whispered.

They stopped at the door of room 203.

Cohen reached out and turned the doorknob—it wasn't locked at all, probably so Mr. Raven could come in easily.

"I feel like from now on, the art style will have to become more adult-oriented."

Cohen muttered under his breath.

"Oh, he's here already~" Ms. Beatrice said seductively in the room, thinking it was Mr. Raven.

Hearing the sound, coupled with the suffocating scent of perfume wafting from the room, Harry shuddered.

They slipped inside—from Ms. Beatrice's perspective, the door was open, but no one came in for a long time.

"The wind..." Ms. Beatrice put on her half-undressed clothes with disappointment, shuffled to the door in her slippers, and closed it.

Meanwhile, Cohen and his team had already found a corner and plopped down.

All they have to do now is wait here—whoever it is, Mr. Crow or anyone else, the murderer will eventually show up.

Not long after, the door opened.

This time it wasn't "wind," but Mr. Crow, dressed in a black suit with a slightly disheveled tie and buttons.

(End of this chapter)