Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 296 This is hard to explain to you, because I am a Dementor (4000 words)
Hopkins might be terrified when he finds out that the box contains not only a basilisk and a fire dragon, but also a wandering Dementor, a fiery chimera, and a toilet that suddenly talks while you're using it...

But none of this concerned Cohen, because Cohen left after leading him into the guest room of the cabin.

This is helping Voldemort train the will of his subordinates.

A wavering person cannot accomplish great things. Months later, when Hopkins tries to escape due to the suspicions of the professors and Ministry of Magic officials around him, he will surely recall when he first arrived in the Cohen box...

Having lived with these monsters for so long, what could be more terrifying than this?

Back in their dorm, Harry and his friends finally grew tired of the constant discussions about "how amazing Moody was," and their assessment of Moody's strength remained at the level of "comparable to Dumbledore."

Even though he was already tired of it, Ron still asked Cohen for his opinion when Cohen returned.

"Where do you think Moody's level will be?" Ron asked Cohen expectantly.

"So you're a hardcore player after all..."

Cohen thought for a moment,
"Let's go with the super-sized cup. I feel like it's still a long way from Dumbledore's level..."

“But Dumbledore is so old…” Ron’s interest was rekindled. “I mean, he might—”

"This is getting weirder and weirder..." Hermione yawned. "I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight..."

“I still think Dumbledore is better,” Harry disagreed with Ron’s opinion.

"In terms of physical integrity, Dumbledore is indeed a bit more at ease than Moody," Cohen patted Ron on the shoulder. "Blindly comparing intensity isn't advisable, little Ron..."

But Ron still seemed to think Moody was more of a "fighting machine".

The next two days were uneventful, as usual.

Attending lectures, practicing magic, doing homework—except for potions class.

Snape's "classroom danger level" reached a new historical high. When Neville burned the sixth cauldron since he entered the school, Snape mercilessly mocked him and put Neville in a very torturous solitary confinement—to gut a large barrel of long-horned toads.

Everyone knows why Snape is in such a bad mood.

“Because of Moody,” Harry said confidently after class. “He just wants to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he never gives a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher a friendly look—but this time he’s been turned down, and he’s afraid of Moody…”

“Didn’t Cohen say back in freshman year that Snape used to be a Death Eater?” Ron said with disgust. “Of course Death Eaters are afraid of Moody—if I were Dumbledore, I’d kick him straight out of school and into Azkaban—”

“Give it a try and get Dumbledore out of office,” Cohen urged. “I’ve always supported you becoming the headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“Then everything will be in chaos.” Hermione caught up with them from behind; she had just gone to teach Neville the Cleansing Charm—so that Neville could clean the disgusting toad entrails from under his fingernails.

“You don’t believe me!” Ron said angrily.

“I think you’d kick a quarter of the school out,” Hermione said rationally. “That would be too academic.”

“Academicism is good too,” Harry said wistfully. “Hogwarts without Slytherin…”

“He's daydreaming again,” Cohen clicked his tongue. “He's imagining himself as the headmaster of Hogwarts, getting rid of those who aren’t fit to learn magic—but if you need a basilisk, I can lend you one.”

"Why does this sound so familiar?" Ron frowned.

“Because that’s something Slytherin did.” Cohen raised his eyebrows.

Ron and Harry both shivered.

The Gryffindor fourth-year students' first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the week was on Thursday afternoon. After lunch, they lined up early outside Moody's classroom to wait for their turn.

They were clearly trying to steal the spot from a star professor's open lecture.

"Hurry up—otherwise there won't be any front-row seats!" Ron pulled Cohen and the others into the classroom as soon as the bell rang. This was the first time he had ever been so enthusiastic about class.

Ron got his wish and secured a front-row seat, but he would soon regret his decision.

Because Moody brought in three large black spiders in a glass jar.

Cohen could clearly see Ron's initially excited and thrilled expression rapidly being replaced by confusion and fear, until finally his face turned pale and he cowered.

"Put your textbooks away, you don't need them." Moody said gruffly as he walked to the podium, leaning on his cane, and began to open the roster and call out names.

Whether from the perspective of the curriculum or Moody's behavioral characteristics, the real Moody today is very similar to the fake Moody in Cohen's memory of the original work.

This shows that Barty Jr. really has acting talent; no wonder even Dumbledore couldn't see the problem.

"Alright." After taking attendance, Moody's blue eyes, which had been spinning rapidly, stopped staring at the students and instead rolled back to the back of their heads. "I received a letter from Professor Lupin. He gave me an overview of your current learning progress. You have already acquired quite a bit of knowledge about how to deal with dark magical creatures."

Moody glanced at Cohen with his normal eye.

"You've learned how to deal with Boggart, Red Hat, Hinkpunk, Grindylow, Kaba, and werewolves, haven't you?"

Faced with Moody's question, everyone murmured their agreement—although they were looking forward to Moody's class, when Moody's terrifying face looked at them, the students, as inexperienced underage wizards, were still somewhat afraid and lowered their voices, fearing that Moody would suddenly fly into a rage.

"So my task this year is to teach you how to deal with those illegal dark spells—originally, according to the Ministry of Magic's regulations, I should only teach you how to break spells, but Professor Dumbledore greatly praised your courage..."

Moody's gaze swept over Harry and the others.

“He thinks you can handle it, and I agree—the sooner you learn what you’re dealing with, the better. How can you protect yourself in the face of a spell you’ve never seen before?” Moody said. “A wizard who wants to cast an illegal spell on you won’t tell you his intentions. You have to be prepared and vigilant at all times. You’d better take that thing away while I’m talking, Miss Brown.”

Moody's magic eye was fixed on Lavender, who was fidgeting under the table in the back row. She was about to show her divination homework to her deskmate, Parvati.

Lavender was so frightened that his face turned bright red.

“First, I’m going to explain to you three of the most vicious and unforgivable spells in the wizarding world,” Moody said hoarsely. “So, does anyone know what these three spells are?”

"The Death Curse?" Harry asked Cohen in a low voice.

"It felt so-so," Cohen said. "Nothing special, like being shone with a flashlight."

“Mr. Norton,” Moody called to Cohen, “tell me the spells you know.”

Damn it, he shouldn't have whispered to Harry in class—the Unforgivable Curse was practically a given for Cohen, since Voldemort had personally taught him about it in his first year.

But now that he's speaking so skillfully, doesn't it seem like he's a born bad guy?
“The Death Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse,” Cohen said. “Using any one of these curses on a human would result in a life sentence in Azkaban.”

After only a brief moment of thought, Cohen rattled off the three Unforgivable Curses as if reciting a menu.

The more he tries to cover it up, the more guilty he feels – Cohen has no reason to feel guilty.

Even if you know, so what? Are you going to lock yourself up in Azkaban?

“Correct.” Moody nodded, gesturing for Cohen to sit down. “The Death Curse, the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse—back then, these spells were abused by dark wizards, causing a great deal of chaos—I’ll show you the effects of these spells next…”

Moody placed the three jars containing the spiders on the podium in a row.

Then, the spiders were taken out one by one and enlarged so that the students could see the consequences of the spiders being hit by the spell.

For each spell used, Moody would explain all the effects and negative consequences of that spell.

The noise in the classroom grew softer and softer as everyone held their breath and stared at the spiders that were being controlled, tortured, and killed by the spell.

“These three spells are known as the Unforgivable Curse, and any one of them, if used on a human, is enough to land them in a life sentence in Azkaban,” Moody said sternly. “The Death Curse and the Cruciatus Curse are irresistible, so you need to be vigilant and not let yourselves be struck by them at any time.”

Hermione suddenly raised her hand.

“Miss Granger.” Moody’s magic eye looked at Hermione.

“You said the Death Curse and the Cruciatus Curse are irresistible, so… what about the Imperius Curse?” Hermione asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Moody grinned.

“This is what I’m going to teach you in the next class,” Moody said. “The Imperius Curse is the only one of the three Unforgivable Curses that can be resisted. The key to resisting it is a strong will. Always remember this: the human will is the source of a curse’s power.”

After saying that, Moody put away the spider and closed the roster.

"Alright, that's all for this lesson. You've all finished taking notes, so there's no homework. get out of class dismissed."

As soon as Moody stepped out of the classroom after class, the classroom erupted in chaos.

"Did you see the spider twitching?"

"—He killed the spider in one swift motion—with just one incantation—"

The students, who had never seen the Unforgivable Curse before, began to discuss the spells that Moody had demonstrated with awe.

Harry seemed somewhat dazed, the green light stirring up some unpleasant memories.

For example, the way Cohen "died" after being hit in first grade, or the hazy night when his parents were killed.

“Whether in the wizarding world or among Muggles, human life is fragile. Even outside the wizarding world, it’s just as unsafe.” Cohen patted Harry on the shoulder. “A killing curse or a rifle can kill a person in an instant—the weapon isn’t the point; the point is the people who use the weapon.”

"We'll defeat Voldemort, won't we?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Instead of worrying about whether I can defeat Voldemort, I should worry about whether I can build a Dementor empire by teaming up with the Dementors," Cohen said.

Harry laughed—but he quickly realized something was a little off.

“Wait a minute—the Dementor Empire? You’re kidding, right?” Harry asked, looking at Cohen.

"Can't beat Voldemort? You must be joking, right?" Cohen retorted.
-
School life before the Triwizard Tournament was both easy and fulfilling for Cohen—but not for someone else.

On Friday morning, Hopkins finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Let me go!" Hopkins pleaded, clinging to Cohen's leg with tears streaming down his face, after Cohen had entered the box. "Please—that Dementor has been staring at me through the window!"

"lie!"

Cohen spoke in Voldemort's voice,

"Mick doesn't even have eyes, how can he be watching you?"

“And that basilisk!” Hopkins said. “It keeps coming to scare me with dead rabbits and dead sheep!”

"They're bringing you food, isn't that great?" Cohen defended the little basilisk. "No one else has the chance to be taken care of by the basilisk."

"You didn't say you had a fire dragon here!" Hopkins cried out in despair. "It wants to eat me!"

“That does present a bit of a challenge.” Cohen frowned. “Nober has never eaten a human before; I’m worried its stomach won’t be able to digest it—”

“Please, have some humanity… I beg you…” Hopkins pleaded. “I’d rather live in the broom shed—as long as I don’t live with them—and that talking toilet—I’m too scared to even use the toilet—”

“I can’t explain to you why I can’t be a human being,” Cohen sighed. “Because I’m a Dementor. If you stay anywhere else at night, Dumbledore will find out, and then you’ll be dragged out of school. Guess how Voldemort will punish you?”

As if anticipating the consequences, Hopkins gasped, and the pain of being bullied by those giant beasts and monsters instantly subsided.

If the Dark Lord's plan is ruined, it won't just be him who dies, but his entire family.

Compared to that, suffering here doesn't seem so hard to accept anymore?

And indeed, he has survived to this day safely. Apart from being breathed on by a fire dragon and being scared half to death by a Dementor in the middle of the night, he has not encountered any accidents so far...

"Then...then..."

"Cheer up, the Triwizard Tournament starts at the end of next month, you just need to hang in there for a few dozen more days," Cohen comforted her. "Or why don't you stay in that castle that's still under construction? It's more spacious there, and Sissoko and the others will never go there..."

“It’s full of undead!” Hopkins protested. “I’d rather…”

“Then you agree to play with the little basilisk here,” Cohen said with satisfaction. “Also, the little basilisk has been learning a lot of swear words lately, so you’d better watch out. If you corrupt it, Sissoko will start taking revenge on you.”

(End of this chapter)