Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 351 Humanity Returns, Not Like a Person, But at Least a Person
During the rest of the Christmas holiday, Cohen spent only one afternoon preparing a diving hood for Harry.

It looked like an upside-down fishbowl on his head, almost exactly like the effect of the head-soaking curse, to the point that Cohen kept regretting wasting an afternoon on something meaningless.

At the end of the Christmas holidays, after lunch on the weekend, Cohen pulled Harry into the Room of Requirement and showed him around.

“If it’s exactly the same as the Bubble Head Charm in both visual and practical terms…” Harry began to waver after three days of failure. “Why should I keep trying to learn another spell that I have no confidence in mastering?”

“Because once we’re at the bottom of the lake, no one can see what happens next, so the audience will only see one warrior who goes into the water with props and four other warriors who go into the water with just a magic wand…” Cohen said. “You’ll be singled out as a bad case—but the rules don’t say you can’t bring props, so it’s not a violation.”

“It sounds like we’ll be talking about this for a long time…” Harry said despairingly, feeling like he could already hear the students whispering among themselves.

“If you don’t use this, it means my work yesterday afternoon was completely meaningless,” Cohen reminded him. “Although I really did feel it was meaningless…”

"I knew I couldn't learn it—did you set me up?" Harry complained deliberately.

“Yes, yes,” Cohen nodded. “My middle name is Capital.”

Even if Harry really wanted to get through the project on his own, the temptation of "winning without lifting a finger" would make this upright kid restless.

Cohen didn't have time to joke around with him today, because Nicole reminded Cohen that the "humanity" that was being nurtured should now be mature.

After Harry took the diving fish tank head back to the common room, Cohen found the Hermes Bottle containing humanity.

The substance inside had condensed into a sticky, gooey mass, resembling a bluish-green slime that wouldn't move.

"You're going to eat this?" The count smacked his lips. "Tsk tsk tsk..."

“Then I won’t eat it,” Cohen said.

"Hey, no, no, no—" the count quickly dissuaded him, "You don't want to become some kind of ruthless villain, do you?"

“I don’t blink when I kill,” Cohen said, pursing his lips. “It looks like it’s healed—or maybe it’s dead…”

Cohen remembered that it used to be a cloud of mist inside; it was small then and looked quite appetizing...

Now it has grown so big that it has no appetite at all.

Indeed, everything looks best when it's from childhood...

"How is it?" After seeing Cohen gulp down the contents of the bottle, the count leaned closer, moving his head up and down to examine the changes in Cohen. "How do you feel? Are you no longer thinking about killing and torturing people—"

“Shut up. I didn’t always think about killing and torturing people,” Cohen said. “I feel a little different, but not much.”

"In what way?" the count asked.

"The more I look at you, the more I recall the time we spent together." Cohen seemed to be sighing over something, "The more I recall, the more..."

"So you've finally remembered my goodness," the Earl said with great satisfaction. "Quickly say I'm the best owl in the world—and then give me—"

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Cohen said. “The more I think about it, the more you deserve a beating. Do you think this stuff is some kind of ‘good guy potion,’ turning you into a good person after drinking it?” “What about Nicolas Flamel?” the Count shouted. “You ruined this bottle! I feel like he’s becoming more and more inhuman!”

Contrary to the Earl's opinion, Cohen and Nico now both think the experiment was a success—at least Cohen is back to plucking all of the Earl's feathers when he speaks rudely, just like he did in their first year.

"You treacherous, cunning, wicked, and inherently evil little Dementor!" the Earl gritted his teeth, trembling, after having his feathers stripped away again two years later. "You still hold a grudge!"

“If you’re really that vengeful, you’ll get your hair pulled seventy or eighty more times,” Cohen said. “Didn’t we tell you not to use blue ink for that astronomy assignment last time?”

"Then isn't using blue ink actually the correct thing to do?" the count said, glancing at his head. "You haven't actually suffered any losses..."

“That’s because I was more skilled and anticipated your scheme!” Cohen said. “I knew you would have a rebellious attitude.”

"How horrible! A little Dementor who only knows how to scheme against owls!" the Earl said angrily. "I'm going to report you for animal cruelty!"

"Stop hiding it. If you really don't like this feeling, why don't you use a counter-spell?" Cohen said, seeing right through him, and waved his wand, changing the count's feathers. "That perverted old owl..."

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!" The moment the feather returned, the Earl spread his wings and attacked Cohen's head.

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Cohen's first Christmas at school was unusually peaceful, so much so that when he went to class on Monday, he still felt like he was on holiday.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick had them practice the Exorcism Charm—the complete opposite of the Summoning Charm, which causes the target object to move away from itself and fly around in the air.

There were cushions on their tables to prevent heavy objects from flying around and injuring the students. But the cushions in front of Cohen and Harry remained untouched.

They were all granted permission by Professor Flitwick to practice the spells needed for other competitions during class.

Harry was still practicing the Bubble Head Charm, but since it wasn't appropriate to test it on himself in class, the test subject changed from Harry himself to an innocent field mouse that had been stuffed into the fish tank, which Harry had rescued from the Earl.

“At least it can stay underwater for three minutes longer without choking,” Cohen said. “At this rate, you’ll be able to stay underwater for an hour in twenty days.”

“But weren’t you already prepared?” Ron asked Cohen during a break from practice. “Why aren’t you in class—”

“Wouldn’t it be stupid not to use privileges?” Cohen said in a low voice so that Professor Flitwick wouldn’t hear him.

However, Professor Flitwick seems unable to hear the students' whispers now, because it's not just the cushions that are flying around in the classroom, but also the desks and Professor Flitwick himself.

“I’m sorry, Professor!” Neville said hastily, his spells were a little off.

The spell was finally stopped by Professor Flitwick himself, but he didn't seem too angry.

“Next time, aim carefully before you chant the spell, Mr. Longbottom,” Professor Flitwick said, still feeling dizzy.

(End of this chapter)