Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 309 Edward is growing wildly in a carefree direction
The wand testing session of the Triwizard Tournament and the interview with the Daily Prophet were both scheduled for the first Friday of November.

For Cohen, what arrived even before the interview was Edward's letter delivered Friday morning.

The same was true for Harry; Sirius's letter arrived on Friday morning.

“Sirius and Moody have the same guess.” Harry said to Cohen after reading the letter. “Sirius also thinks someone wants to kill me this way… What did Mr. Norton say in his letter to you?”

"Why is it that after I was forced to participate in such a dangerous competition, my dad is asking me if Hogwarts has opened betting on who will win the Triwizard Tournament?" Cohen sighed. "There's no love left. He doesn't even worry about whether I'll be in danger."

Edward might think that Cohen is no longer in danger because of a mere Triwizard Tournament—it's possible that Dumbledore has already leaked the secret.

Not Forced

“So…” Harry’s left cheek twitched.

“He sent me five hundred Galleons.” Cohen shook the bag that came with the letter, and gold coins that didn’t seem to fit the bag’s size clattered inside. “It’s obviously a long-saved stash of money—now I have to tempt Fred and George to open the market.”

"Isn't it inappropriate to gamble here?" Hermione asked. "And..."

“That’s why we should open the betting market before Dumbledore explicitly forbids it,” Cohen said logically. “Once the market is open, everything will be fine—Harry, why don’t you place a bet too?”

“I’d rather not,” Harry said cautiously. Although Sirius had said more than once that he, as Harry’s godfather, would cover all of Harry’s expenses, Harry still didn’t want to trouble Sirius too much.

As long as you don't squander your money, you'll definitely have enough.

“Ron—” Harry was about to turn around and talk to Ron about the Cohen auction, but then he realized that Ron was ignoring them and couldn’t even be seen at the dinner table. “Hermione, is Ron still hiding from us by himself?”

"I think so..." Hermione said hesitantly.

"He still thinks Cohen and I signed up on our own?" Harry said, frowning. "After getting eye-rolls from people from every house for so many days?"

“Just to correct you, the Gryffindors didn’t give you the cold shoulder.” Fred sat down between Cohen and Harry, biting into a piece of jam-covered bread. “Don’t get us mixed up—did Cohen just call out my and George’s names?”

“You’ve come at the perfect time…” Cohen immediately pulled Fred over and began chattering away with him about the grand plan for opening the championship betting market.

“Oh… Harry, don’t you understand?” Hermione said to Harry earnestly, “He’s just a little jealous of you two—especially that night when you both went up one by one and he was the only one left down there.”

“Jealous? Jealous that we get scorned by the whole school?” Harry said angrily.

“Think about it, it’s always you who gets everyone’s attention, and it’s always you and Cohen who stand out—” Hermione quickly changed her words when she saw Harry opening his mouth to say something indignantly, and lowered her voice so that only Harry could hear it, so that Fred next to Cohen wouldn’t hear it, “I know you don’t pursue these things, but—how should I put it… Ron has to compete with so many brothers at home, and then you and Cohen are his good friends, so every time he’s with you, he’s the one who gets ignored…”

Hermione analyzed Ron's current mental state for Harry, but Harry clearly couldn't empathize at all, saying bluntly, "If Ron is willing, I, Harry, am ready to switch lives anytime."

"Two winners?" Fred asked in a low voice after hearing Cohen's words. "Is it really going to end like this? It feels even more bizarre than the outcome of my bet with George on the World Cup..."

“Just tell me, was the outcome of the World Cup correct?” Cohen said. “And what about Bagman’s escape…” “You should have told us sooner…” Fred became more and more regretful as he recalled Bagman’s betting scheme. “But George and I have sworn never to set foot on a betting table again…”

"Does that mean you don't want to organize?" Cohen raised his eyebrows.

“How could that be?” Fred said with a funny expression.

“We just swore we wouldn’t step into the gambling den.” George had somehow appeared behind Cohen and Fred.

“But running a betting pool is still an option,” Fred said with a sly smile. “So… Cohen, how much are you planning to bet?”

“Five hundred Galleons, that’s all my dad’s savings,” Cohen said. “He’s betting on that ‘bizarre’ outcome I told you about.”

"Aren't you afraid we'll run away with the money?" Fred's eyes widened when he heard the amount. "And Hogwarts shouldn't have that much capital flowing in—your odds must be very high—"

“Make as much as you can,” Cohen said. “And I trust you.”

“This will be the biggest project we’ve undertaken in years,” George remarked.

“This will also be the first step in realizing our dreams.” Fred and George exchanged a knowing glance.

The two of them ran off with their money bags to prepare for the betting, while Harry and Hermione's argument came to an end.

“I’m not going to chase him around lecturing him to grow up,” Harry said. “When will he ever believe I’m not happy—maybe after I break my neck, or just die—”

"I will survive."

Cohen said,
"But more than physical death, you should be worried about the afternoon interview—that Daily Prophet reporter is good at spreading rumors."

“What’s so scary about rumors? I don’t have a mom or dad, I don’t read the newspapers, and Sirius doesn’t care about those things.” Harry was still angry with Ron.

There's no need for "years later..."; Harry will start to regret not having prepared more for the interview after the afternoon interview.

The second period of Potions class in the afternoon had just begun when Cohen and Harry were pulled away from the classroom by Colin Creevey of Gryffindor, which greatly displeased Snape, who was preparing to give Harry the antidote.

“That’s amazing!” Colin said admiringly to the two of them. “You’ll be taking pictures later—I heard they’ll be published in the Daily Prophet!”

"All the photos are going to be displayed?" Harry suddenly panicked, intending to turn to Cohen and ask how to avoid embarrassing headshots. "Cohen, what—what are you doing?!"

"Getting my hair done."

Cohen had already pulled out a small mirror and was using his wand to try and comb his hair into a wild and unruly slicked-back style.
"As a warrior of Azkaban, I feel I have a chance to make the front page—the photo has to be good."

(End of this chapter)