Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 449 Moral Blackmail? Dementors Have No Morals

"So you're just going to stand by and watch those Dementors attack the people at will, is that it?"

Crouch spoke very slowly.

Edward remained silent for a moment.

Snapped!
The office door was pushed open.

Crouch's eyes lit up with delight when Cohen appeared, while Edward frowned.

“Or I could ask the person involved directly,” Crouch said.

“I am his guardian, and my opinion is his opinion.” Edward stepped forward and pulled Cohen behind him.

“I actually listened to the whole thing from outside the door,” Cohen said.

Edward turned and gave Cohen an unprecedentedly stern look, telling Cohen not to make a rash decision.

"So, Cohen, what do you think—"

“I said I disagree,” Edward said with a stern face.

Crouch didn't continue speaking, but looked at Cohen, wanting to hear Cohen's decision.

“I’ll listen to my dad,” Cohen said, raising an eyebrow.

Edward breathed a sigh of relief.

“I thought that even if you didn’t care about our past collaboration, you would at least do something for those innocent lives,” Crouch said in a disappointed tone.

“When did you become so… ‘humane’, Mr. Crouch?” Cohen asked, tilting his head.

Cohen's words made Crouch and Edward both look at him.

“If I were heartless, why would I have helped you cover for yourselves everywhere? It was I who contacted Amelia and got her to approve your application; it was I who tripped up Fudge at every turn when he repeatedly tried to frame you, otherwise Cohen would have been attacked by the wizarding world long ago. Secrets will always be exposed eventually, and cooperating with the Ministry of Magic at least guarantees the legitimacy of your identities.” Crouch narrowed his eyes. “Edward, you’ve raised a fine son who’s a journalist.”

"..." Edward seemed to have something he didn't say.

Is this moral blackmail?
“At least he didn’t kill the son he raised,” Cohen said. “A father is responsible for everything his son does, isn’t he?”

Cohen's words were like lighting a short fuse; Crouch's forehead veins bulged, as if he were about to rush up and punch Cohen at any moment.

Edward stepped forward, using himself to separate Crouch and Cohen.

Just when Cohen thought a fight was inevitable, Crouch didn't make any big moves.

“I will give you one last piece of general advice,” Crouch said. “The Department of Mysteries has developed methods to harm ‘non-existent’ beings. It is far safer for Cohen to side with the Ministry of Magic than to stand against it. Think it over carefully.”

Crouch strode away after saying that.

“I’ve never seen them put this much effort into dealing with Voldemort,” Cohen said.

Edward remained silent, his head bowed, seemingly deep in thought about Crouch's words.

"clatter!"

Cohen flicked Edward's clenched right hand with his finger-flicking technique.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked Cohen after being interrupted.

"Are you considering a reluctant cooperation with the Ministry of Magic?" Cohen asked curiously. "No," Edward shook his head, "Crouch has no reason to threaten us with something that doesn't exist, does he?"

“That thing exists. I overheard Umbridge and Fudge talking about it in private,” Cohen said. Not only that conversation, Cohen also remembered that in Harry Potter, the Department of Mysteries did indeed have a large vat of moving brains, but when reading the book, no one knew exactly what they could do. “They researched a vat of brains and said it could kill Dementors.”

After a long silence, Edward seemed to sigh softly.

“Dad won’t let those weird things hurt you.” Edward stroked Cohen’s hair.

“I’m fifteen,” Cohen said, but didn’t dodge Edward’s hand that reached out to pat his head. “You can do whatever you want, I’ll listen to you this time.”
-
It's been brewing for so long!

at last!

On his way back from the second floor to the eighth floor, Cohen had to work very hard to keep a smug look off his face.

Edward has finally developed ambition—and Cohen has finally achieved his dream of becoming a son of a high-ranking official…

Not long after Crouch left, Edward went to Dumbledore's office to discuss changing the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which they had been discussing for several months.

Why are you so happy?

In the lounge, the Earl was still helping Cohen draw sketches, saying sullenly,
"Generally, things that make you happy are not good things."

“Edward’s got guts,” Cohen said with satisfaction. “I think he wants to take the position of Minister of Magic.”

“I knew it,” the Earl clicked his tongue. “Soon you and your son will become rulers even more terrifying than Voldemort—how does he plan to plunder, really plunder?”

“Maybe it’s because of me,” Cohen said. “But I’m not sure how big Edward’s network is—maybe he can manage on his own…”

"Okay, I've drawn the picture you wanted."

The count tossed aside his wand as if relieved. The quill, which had been standing upright on the paper writing and drawing, also fell to the ground.

"I'm going to wait and go into bed with my wife now—"

"Lay more eggs, so the other owls won't laugh at us," Cohen said. "My babies will be hatching soon."

"I won't compete with you!" the count said angrily, "you little Dementor who reproduces only asexually—"

"The more you practice, the better," Cohen said, head held high.
-
On Saturday evening, Cohen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

This space has been temporarily transformed into a table with several large sand table panels.

Cohen immediately recognized the models in those transparent boxes as the living Dungeons & Dragons sandbox that Edward had given him as a birthday present when he was eleven.

It has now been mass-produced into club "toys".

"What are those? The things inside seem to be moving!" Harry exclaimed in surprise as he approached a display case and peered through the glass into a mountain stream.

"A fire dragon!" Ron said. "And the dragon slayers—wait—they seem to be dead—"

“It looks a bit like a video game from the wizarding world,” Hermione said with interest. “These clay figures must have required a very high level of Transfiguration magic to make. They can even talk to each other—is that a weather charm that causes them to collide? How did Professor Norton make them function like a program?”

“You can do more than you can imagine,” Cohen said. “Fortunately, I’ve already experienced it. You can use your wands to control the little people inside on their adventures.”

"What?" Ron nudged Cohen with his elbow. "That's so disloyal—you didn't even invite us to play together—"

“Because I gave my suitcase to my uncle when he was in jail, to keep him entertained,” Cohen said. “It was really fun.”

(End of this chapter)