Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 433 "The Silent One"

The atmosphere was extremely relaxed on Cohen's side, but it was a different story on Umbridge's side.

She woke up on the cold floor and immediately got up to check if anything was extra on her limbs—that little bastard had said he would turn her into "the thing she hated most"...

Umbridge breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that no strange limbs had grown out of him.

That little bastard still doesn't have the guts to do anything to me...

But was the scene of being torn apart by that snake a dream?

There were no wounds on his body, and no bloodstains on the ground—bloodstains can be easily cleaned up, but scars left by magical beasts on a person cannot.

But no matter what, since I survived...

That little brat will have to pay the price for his stupid behavior!
A ruthless smile returned to Umbridge's face.

She wanted to expose Cohen's blatant disrespect and terrorist attack on Ministry of Magic officials, so that Cornelius could frame... no, it was this evil little bastard who did it—

She stood up, picked up her short, stubby wand that had fallen to the ground, and tried to tidy herself up.

But nothing happened after she waved her wand.

Umbridge's face darkened.

She cleared her throat and called out:
"Cleaned up."

Nothing happened, like a baboon waving its magic wand haphazardly.

[Muggle? A she-devil mixed with other animal limbs? Just imagine, Fudge seeing you as that kind of thing...]

Cohen's words seemed to be repeated in her ear.

She can't use magic anymore?
Umbridge stubbornly tried various spells—but without exception, her spells had no effect whatsoever; the wand seemed to have no meaning at all.

"No...no..." Her eyes widened, and her hand gripping the wand began to tremble uncontrollably.

It must be some kind of potion that suppresses magical abilities—I need to go to St. Mungo's to have it checked…

“Dolores.” Fudge’s voice came from the desk outside, from the picture frame.

Umbridge didn't move; she was thinking about something else.

"Dolores!" Fudge was getting impatient.

Umbridge strode quickly to the desk, where a picture framed Fudge's upper body.

"Did you get anything out of that Cohen Norton?" Fudge asked, frowning as Umbridge appeared before him. "The reporters are going crazy over it; it might have been Dumbledore's doing—I know he's always wanted my position..."

“I’ve already asked him.” Umbridge was about to say something when she continued, “That Cohen Norton—”

She suddenly fell silent, her mouth closing uncontrollably, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't utter a single word.

“What did you find out?” Fudge said anxiously. “In a few days, a bunch of reporters will be coming to ask about Azkaban! You can’t expect Barty to tell them the Dementors are just on vacation… People in Northumberland have already said they saw a dark mass flying across the sky—” “I mean—” Umbridge stopped halfway through her sentence—she clenched her fists, and that little bastard had used some kind of curse on her, making her body seem out of control.

"Do you have any Hogwarts people with you?" Fudge said coldly. "If so, I must warn him—monitoring secret conversations between high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic is a serious violation of the law, and I will immediately investigate Hogwarts' betrayal..."

“No,” Umbridge said through gritted teeth. “Minister, I need to arrange a security check.”

"About Hogwarts?" Fudge said. "I'll arrange a team of Aurors tomorrow—"

“No, it’s about me,” Umbridge said. “That—”

Her next sentence also vanished into thin air.

"I need a health check-up." That was the last part of her sentence.

"Fine," Fudge said impatiently. "So, you didn't get anything out of me, right—"

“…” Umbridge still couldn’t say what she wanted to say, which made her look extremely ferocious.

"What about Dumbledore? Has he been up to any strange, suspicious activity?" Fudge pressed. "If all else fails, we can make Dumbledore the culprit—to be honest, I've also bribed my way through the Wizengamots, thanks to the Galleons Lucius contributed before..."

“Dumbledore doesn’t spend most of his time at school,” Umbridge finally managed to say.

“It sounds a bit far-fetched, but it’s better than no reason at all,” Fudge said. “If you can pin the blame on Dumbledore this time, you’ll have to watch your attitude towards that Cohen Norton—I was originally planning to deal with this dark creature first before confronting Dumbledore, but if there’s really no other way…”

“That little bastard?” Umbridge gritted her teeth. “What attitude am I supposed to have towards that monster?”

“It’s only temporary,” Fudge waved his hand. “The Humournes say they’ve found something that can deal with Dementors, those dark magic creatures. They’ve been raising a huge vat of… well, brains. You know, they’re disgusting to look at, but they can damage intangible things. The Humournes say that with a few more generations of planned breeding, they’ll achieve their desired effect… Then, Dumbledore and Norton won’t be a problem for us anymore…”

"..."

“Also, Dolores, another wave of reporters will be at Hogwarts this week to interview you,” Fudge continued. “Remember to criticize Dumbledore’s recent ‘absences’ in front of them, so I can spread the word that Dumbledore is plotting some subversive secret operation…”
-
Meanwhile, in the common lounge.

“Cohen? Are you writing Professor Flitwick’s antidote?” Harry asked Cohen sleepily at another round table.

Only the two of them remained, along with the Earl, who was rummaging through Cohen's side looking for some nutritious snacks.

“No, I’m writing a letter,” Cohen said, pulling the letter closer to himself, indicating that Harry should politely refrain from peeking.

“He has a new lover.” The count pulled a bag of “mini exploding vegetables” from Cohen’s bag. The wrapper had a picture of a chili pepper about to burst on it. “Maybe it’s a cute little Dementor.”

"I'll have you deliver the letter in a bit." Cohen finished writing the letter in a few strokes, waved his wand, rolled it up, and tossed it to the Earl. "I sent that lovely Dementor some food, and the food is you."

“I don’t believe it,” the count said, head held high. “You must still have packages.”

“That’s all,” Cohen said.

A hint of fear began to appear in the count's eyes.

(End of this chapter)