Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 383 Human Suffering
"His schedule is a bit full, let him wait a bit."

Cohen thought for a moment,
"It's probably impossible in July; we'll have to wait until at least August."

"Should I say that to him?" Malfoy asked, looking troubled, as if afraid that Voldemort would get angry at him for these words.

“Why don’t you just say August?” Cohen said, narrowing his eyes. “I speak to him so directly because we have a cooperative relationship. If you, as a follower, speak to him like that, you’re just asking for trouble.”

"..." Malfoy's excitement had completely vanished.

He had initially thought he could catch up with Cohen—but after Cohen's series of psychological bombs, he began to feel extremely tormented and conflicted.

Was he destined to spend his entire life as one of Voldemort's Death Eaters?

Does anyone remember him? Or is he just "Voldemort's henchman"?
Cohen didn't say anything more in-depth, because Malfoy didn't know Occlumency, and it was better not to let Voldemort know some things.

Malfoy was still not as good at dealing with people as his father. Voldemort would pat him on the shoulder a couple of times and praise him a few times, and he would be willing to do dangerous things for Voldemort.

Lucius saw it clearly: the former Voldemort could bring wealth and power to his family, and the current Voldemort could only temporarily guarantee his family's survival. That's why he chose to continue following Voldemort, rather than some vague "gratitude" and "honor".

He did this to Voldemort, and he did it to Cohen; this approach is the best solution for someone who is incompetent but ambitious.

“That’s settled then,” Cohen said. “I have to go back now. Oh, and one more thing for you.”

"what?"

“When faced with a decision, wait a while before making your choice,” Cohen said. “Don’t act like a Gryffindor and rush headlong into things.”

……

"what happens?"

After Cohen returned to the carriage, Ron immediately asked Cohen,

"What did Malfoy tell you? Harry said you're still an undercover agent over there—"

"That's clever. Your undercover work was exposed right away," Cohen said helplessly. "If I were an ordinary student, I wouldn't have survived the summer after you said that."

Ron covered his mouth in horror.

"Just kidding." Cohen raised his eyebrows. "I'm just going to Malfoy Manor to check on the Death Eaters."

"That way Dumbledore will know where they're going!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

“I didn’t say I was going to tell Dumbledore,” Cohen said.

“Making two jokes in a row is a bit contrived,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “You really should go and research those joke shops with Fred and the others…”

“Malfoy’s father went to that cemetery the night Voldemort was resurrected,” Harry suddenly said. “I heard Voldemort call his name.”

"Could Voldemort be at Malfoy Manor?" Ron asked curiously. "I can tell my dad—" "And then have your dad lead a group to capture him, right?" Cohen said. "That would be very filial."

“Voldemort won’t just sit here and surrender, and no one can beat him,” Hermione said, pulling Ron along. “Even if we know his location, it won’t help. What’s important is Voldemort’s plans—he hasn’t shown himself yet, don’t you find that strange?”

“Perhaps he’s still weak from his resurrection,” Ron guessed. “And what about the people in the Auror’s office? Once the Ministry of Magic finds out…”

“They might treat your dad like a rumor-monger and suspend him for investigation,” Harry said. “I overheard Fudge telling someone in the university hospital that ‘you don’t have to come to work tomorrow’ to someone who believed Dumbledore…”

“This is absurd,” Hermione said, frowning. “So even if Mr. Crouch is ruthless, he’s still better than this coward. No wonder Mr. Crouch would try to regain support this way.”

“These are not things that a few kids need to worry about,” Cohen said. “If the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up.”
-
After getting off at King's Cross Station, Cohen was picked up by Edward, who smelled of alcohol, and put into a car.

“Even for wizards, drunk driving is dangerous…” Cohen reminded them.

“It wasn’t me, it was Arnold,” Edward said helplessly. “He got drunk at our house and is afraid to go back to his own home.”

"Why?" Cohen asked curiously, but suddenly seemed to think of something that was somewhat related.

On the train, Harry said he overheard Fudge telling a Ministry of Magic official in the university hospital, "You don't have to go to work tomorrow"—could that unfortunate Ministry of Magic official be Arnold...?

“I’m unemployed.” Edward pursed his lips and started the car. “Because I said the wrong thing in front of Fudge—it was terrible.”

“I don’t feel there’s anything scary about it. Haven’t you always been like this?” Cohen said simply.

“He’s different. He has a family to support.” Edward sighed. “He had a baby last year, and there are so many things that need to be paid for. His wife doesn’t know about this yet—if she did, she would be furious.”

“That’s terrible.” Cohen recalled the scene of Rose’s outburst and nodded. “You should try to get a high-ranking position and then arrange a job for your good brother. That wouldn’t be an easy task.”

“Do you have some particular obsession with being the son of the Minister of Magic?” Edward reached out and tapped Cohen on the head in the passenger seat. “Where am I going to get votes? How do I build relationships with those high-ranking wizards? These are things I need to consider…”

“If Fudge can become a minister, I don’t think anything is impossible,” Cohen said noncommittally. “Once Herbert gets back the rest of the Burke family’s inheritance, you can talk to him about it—”

“No discussion,” Edward said stubbornly. “Besides, the Burke family didn’t leave much behind. After Herbert was sentenced to life imprisonment, I suspect that part of their property was wiped clean by magic.”

Returning to No. 5 Privet Drive, Edward took Cohen back to their home, which they hadn't visited in a year—everything was the same as before, except the television had been replaced, the sofa cover had been changed, and the vase in the living room was gone.

Arnold, who was sprawled on the sofa staring blankly at the ceiling with a melancholy expression, was surrounded by a pile of wine bottles.

“So dejected.” Cohen shook his head, intending to offer him some support—after all, Arnold had been helping Edward in a friendly, brotherly way all these years. “He looks like he’s had a really tough life—no, he really is, he’s been complaining about it.”

Suddenly, Edward's eyes narrowed, and he rushed forward.

"Don't vomit on the sofa!"

(End of this chapter)