Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 292 The Mad Old Man's Invitation to a Night Talk

Cohen thought Lucius would reveal that "Cohen took the diary"—but under Voldemort's sudden questioning, Lucius actually said that "the diary was placed in Gringotts."

It's clear that Lucius has already decided which side his family is on...

Voldemort, due to his current physical condition, did not ask Lucius to retrieve the diary for him—which relieved Lucius.

At least based on the information Voldemort currently has, his Horcruxes are all safe—except for the one at Hogwarts.

The tiara that Cohen and Dumbledore went to look for last time was suspected to have been discovered by Dumbledore. Fortunately, he produced a lot of Horcruxes, and Dumbledore spends all his time at the school, so it's impossible that he would break into the Death Eaters' vault to steal the cup and the diary...

"Sirius said the other two schools in the Triwizard Tournament are Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, but it seems Durmstrang isn't a very good school..." Harry and his friends brought up the reputation of Durmstrang School.

Cohen returned to the carriage from Voldemort's perspective, since there was no more exciting talk there, and if his backstabbing wasn't discovered, Voldemort could continue to be Cohen's score-farming machine.

“Durmstrang has a terrible reputation.” Hermione shook her head. “According to the European Assessment of Magical Education, this school places great emphasis on the Dark Arts.”

"Why are you looking at this?" Cohen asked curiously. "Are you planning to transfer schools?"

“Because I’m curious about the differences between other schools and Hogwarts in their curriculum; they might teach a lot of things we won’t,” Hermione said. “But the competition between schools is fierce, and we can’t even find their addresses—”

“If the course involves dark magic, I’d rather never go,” Harry said firmly. “Just imagine, a bunch of students learning how to torture people in a huge castle…”

"If you replace the students with Dementors, this description feels a bit like Azkaban," Cohen said logically. "A massive building, torturous, dark and damp..."

“By the way, Cohen, have you ever been to Azkaban?” Ron asked. “After all, you… that…”

Ron was hesitant to reveal Cohen's Dementor identity directly, even though everyone in the carriage knew it.
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard the Dementors talk about it.” Cohen lied; theoretically, he shouldn’t have gone to Azkaban.

"How do Dementors talk?" Ron's eyes gleamed with a thirst for knowledge, something quite rare for him, especially in Hogwarts classrooms. "I've never heard a Dementor make that sound before..."

Not only Ron, but Harry and Hermione were also very curious about this.

No one has ever heard a Dementor speak, and Cohen is likely the only person in the world who can talk to a Dementor.

“Awooo, awooo.” Cohen chuckled and said in a serious tone, “The Azkaban is filled with the screams of Dementors every day, so the prisoners can’t sleep at all and eventually go crazy.”

“Impossible…” Ron sighed.

“Don’t tell me…” Harry had already started laughing—the terrible impression that Dementors had in Harry’s eyes had almost been distorted by Cohen, this “alternative Dementor.”

“It must be a joke, right?” Hermione said incredulously.

“Of course it was a joke,” Cohen said. “The Dementors communicate through thought—it’s hard to say whether they have ‘thought,’ but at least I can understand them.”

“Then why do they hurt humans?” Harry said. “I mean, Dementors eat people’s happiness and souls as soon as they get close…if they have thoughts…”

“Things with thoughts aren’t necessarily on the wizards’ side, Harry, you’re being a bit naive,” Cohen cautioned. “To Dementors, humans are just endless food production plants, just like you wouldn’t stop eating meat once you learned that chickens and cows have ‘self-awareness’…”

“Then what are we to you…” Ron gasped.

“That’s right, you’re all my snacks. Hand over all your money now, or I’ll make you my dinner tonight,” Cohen said menacingly. “The kind you drink mixed with pumpkin juice.”

“Then you might be disappointed,” Ron said. “I don’t have a single penny to my name—I spent all my allowance while watching the game.”

Cohen didn't scare anyone, because in Harry and his friends' eyes, the probability of Cohen attacking a classmate was even smaller than the possibility of Voldemort getting married.

The train headed north, and a torrential downpour began outside the window, gradually darkening the sky—it seemed that there had been very few sunny days on my way to school in recent years.

In the afternoon, many classmates they knew came to visit their carriage, and the topics of discussion were mostly about the ball game and the attack on the Minister of Magic.

“My grandma doesn’t want to go,” Neville said sadly, his emotions reaching a peak as Ron described the excitement of Quidditch. “She won’t buy a ticket—ah, that sounds pretty exciting.”

“There are lots of souvenirs,” Ron said. “You should take a look at this…”

Ron rummaged through the box for a while and pulled out a small statue of Krum with a gloomy face.

“Wow…” Neville’s eyes lit up like stars as he said enviously.

“Here, have one.” Ron generously gave Neville a .k.m. figurine—because Edward had previously bought quite a few player figurines and had given away a lot of them as well.

Harry and Cohen also gave Neville some souvenirs they had bought. Their boxes were piled high with them, and these souvenirs would most likely sink to the bottom of the boxes by graduation and eventually disappear into the long passage of time.

The meaning of souvenirs is only for the moment they are bought, just like fireworks are only beautiful for the moment they are set off. In the end, whether what is left behind is ashes or scraps of paper, all that trash will be swept into the garbage dump.

Neville thanked them repeatedly, but Cohen didn't seem to care much—he didn't really like Quidditch, and most of the souvenirs were given to him by Edward.

After the train arrived at the station, the torrential rain outside showed no signs of letting up, and thunder rumbled in the sky. Cohen cast a waterproof spell on his cloak in advance to avoid getting completely soaked when he returned to the castle.

They met Hagrid at the platform. Every year, Hagrid would come here to pick up new students and row them across the Black Lake.

"If we don't drown, we'll meet at the banquet!" Hagrid greeted them in a loud, boisterous voice.

“I can’t imagine crossing the lake by ferry in this weather…” Hermione said, shivering. Some rainwater had seeped into her collar, and the waterproof cloak wasn’t very effective.

Fortunately, as senior students, they traveled to school in a Thestral carriage.

"Hiss—" As Cohen approached a carriage, the Thestral in front of him let out a soft hiss, and its thin dragon head leaned towards Cohen, as if to greet him.

"I'm not a unicorn, don't look at me with those eyes that yearn for hybridization."

Cohen sternly pinched the Thestral's long mouth, which was about to open and lick him a few times.

“Take your cart—” It turned away dejectedly and returned to its position. Cohen had never seen it before—this was probably a young adult cow or horse.

Upon arriving at the oak gates of Hogwarts, you can immediately spot Peeves throwing water balloons at the students.

Professor McGonagall was angrily scolding it, but it didn't care at all—

"I didn't do anything!" Mischievous Ghost chuckled. "Anyway, they're already soaking wet, right? Hey! Little brat, what are you doing with your head down? Take this—"

Suddenly, it felt like something was stuck in Pipi's throat.

Because the water balloon hit Cohen.

Cohen shook out the clean clothes he had managed to keep under his cloak until he reached the school gate—they could have gone in dry, but now they were all soaked.

With just a glance, Pippi, like a deflated balloon, made "poof" sounds as it spun rapidly through the air and finally disappeared into the castle wall.

The remaining water balloons in its arms were thrown into the air and rained down on the students like cannonballs.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and all the balloons floated into the air.

"Alright, let's go!" Professor McGonagall said to the students, who were soaked to the bone. "Get into the auditorium, quick!"

“Didn’t Peeves never dare to jump around in front of you before?” Harry said, leaning closer to Korn. “Why is he so excited today…”

"Because of the game?" Cohen said. "Or maybe it was just that the rain was so heavy that they didn't see me at first."

Passing through the foyer, they returned to the long-missed Gryffindor table, where everyone was shaking off their soaked cloaks and clothes. The rainwater that had fallen onto the marble floor of the Great Hall disappeared immediately upon contact with the ground, even though it should have been flowing everywhere.

Cohen felt that Voldemort's island where he kept his locket must have used a similar magic to make liquid evaporate out of thin air once it left the container—but that island was now useless.

Not only are the Horcruxes gone, but all the Infernals there are gone too. I wonder how angry Voldemort would be if he knew...

"Hurry up..." Ron said after sitting down, rubbing his empty stomach. "I could eat a whole dragon—"

It took the first-year students a long time to line up and walk out of the lobby; they looked as if they had swum across a lake.

Among them, a little boy with grayish-brown hair stood out because he was wrapped in Hagrid's mole-skin coat, as if he were wearing a thick blanket.

After making eye contact with Colin Creevey at the Gryffindor table, he quickly gave two thumbs up and mouthed excitedly, "I've fallen into the lake."

Cohen didn't quite understand why the child was so excited after falling into the lake—it was probably because he had been pulled out by a giant squid, and such a friendly, elderly behemoth must have amazed the newborn.

He didn't seem to have tried to communicate with the giant squid much. When he first enrolled, Cohen saw that it had a soul strength of up to fifty points, but since he didn't know how to communicate with aquatic creatures, he never went to see it.

Perhaps the giant squid holds some secrets; at Hogwarts, a student who doesn't aspire to be a detective certainly can't become a proper Dark Lord...

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall brought the Sorting Hat to the new students, and it sang a brand new song. Putting aside the rhyme and melody, it was at least quite in line with the atmosphere of Hogwarts.

Asking a hat to come up with a new song every year is indeed too much of a burden for the hat. Cohen had previously asked his son to learn to sing, but he abandoned the plan after only a few days.

The idea of ​​a toilet singing is bizarre, both from the perspective of using the toilet and from the perspective of listening to music, especially when it sings "Rule Britannia" in a multi-channel chorus while someone is using the toilet.

After the Sorting Ceremony concluded, Dumbledore, as usual, began to introduce the old and new rules of Hogwarts, as well as this year's new professor—Alastor Moody.

Thanks to Snape's intentional or unintentional leaks, Lupin, who had been teaching the school the previous year, resigned before the rumors could take off. Sirius Black had originally wanted Lupin to stay with him, but Lupin declined his offer.

It's actually quite easy to understand—no one wants to be a burden to their friend, even if the other person doesn't see themselves as a burden at all.

Without the kidnapping of Barty Jr., the "real Moody" also missed the segment where he would intrude during the banquet.

His scarred, wood-carved face was quite frightening, and with one eye spinning wildly in its socket, not a single student dared to applaud when Dumbledore introduced him.

Moody is like a serial killer straight out of a horror story.

Cohen's focus was not only on Moody's soul strength of 50, but also on his rapidly spinning demonic eye.

Because after rapidly scanning the auditorium, those eyes fixed intently on Cohen's location.

Even after Moody sat down, his eyes remained fixed on Cohen.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing Cohen staring intently in the new professor's direction. "Do you know this new professor? He looks terrifying..."

“Terrible?” Ron whispered, leaning closer. “He’s practically Superman—you know, Mad-Eye Moody—my dad told me he’s the most powerful Auror in the Ministry of Magic, and I heard he’s the one who arrested half the prisoners in Azkaban…”

"Colleagues, more or less," Cohen said casually.

Moody was no longer looking at him; his eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites of his eyes showing, as he turned to discuss something with Professor McGonagall.

As a veteran Auror, Cohen is unsure whether Moody participated in the raid on Burke Manor before his retirement, or whether he was one of the Aurors who "cast a curse on Cohen."

However, Cohen was more concerned about Moody's attitude towards him—after retiring, Moody developed severe paranoia, and Cohen couldn't say what Moody's attitude was towards him, the "subject of black magic experiments."

Why would Dumbledore bring in an old Auror when Cohen was already at the school? Was he trying to ruin Hogwarts?
However, this problem soon ceased to be a problem.

Because after Dumbledore finished introducing the Triwizard Tournament, and everyone finished dinner and was preparing to go back to their dormitories, Cohen was dragged away by Moody.

“Come with me, son,” Moody said gruffly, grabbing Cohen’s arm on the stairwell. “It won’t interfere with your sleep.”

(End of this chapter)