Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 451 #Alchemists can make anything except gold - 2.0
“Mass production of this thing would kill him, wouldn’t it…” Cohen said admiringly. “You guys be careful, or my mom will come after you.”

“Of course not that size,” Fred said.

“And we’ll learn first,” George said.

“Then let’s grow bigger and stronger together.” Fred lowered his voice.

“To create new glories, huh?” Cohen said.

“Of course,” the two said cheerfully, then went into the lounge to wait for their volunteers.

After Fred and George left, Harry said with a sigh:

"They really know how to make money."

“It’s just a bunch of tricks; Professor Norton’s sand table is clearly more meaningful for teaching,” Hermione said.

“A little trick?” Ron’s eyes widened. “Hermione, you’re kidding—it’s only been a month since school started, and they’ve already made over forty Galleons from skip-class candy and all sorts of gadgets, even after deducting their volunteer fees!”

“It’s essential to find joy when you’re under a lot of pressure,” Cohen nodded.

More happiness is always necessary, no matter the time.

Build high walls, store up plenty of grain, and delay declaring yourself king.

It's all imperial philosophy.

After returning to his dorm and taking a nap, Cohen will prepare something even more "alchemist-like".

On Sunday morning, the house was always ready to grant requests.

The count, filled with regret for not seeing his wife return, followed Cohen around like a shadow.

After it saw Cohen take the talking toilet out of the box again—

"You're not planning to breed it, are you?" the count asked, tilting his head.

"Are you crazy?" Cohen asked in a very academic tone. "It's a toilet, but there's no toilet—wait, I have an idea—"

"Put away your wicked thoughts," the count said immediately, as if sensing something amiss.

"Am I going to become a human?" the toilet said sadly. "No! I want to be a toilet for the rest of my life!"

"If I want to find you a companion, I'll definitely need to add a reproductive organ to your body," Cohen said domineeringly. "I won't allow my toilet to be worse off than other toilets—"

"What's wrong with your toilet compared to the others?!" the count shrieked. "And you never use it!"

“That’s because the last talking toilet was a bit too disgusting,” Cohen said matter-of-factly. “I originally intended it as part of the home’s defenses—now that I think about it, spraying feces at a sneaking in robber was too mild; I needed something more violent.”

“I know you may be in a bad mood lately, or something unpleasant has happened,” the Count said, “but you don’t have to rape my mind like this.”

“You’ll have to follow behind me.” Cohen raised his eyebrows.

Cohen has a strong sense of self-management and practical skills.

This time, without Nicolas Flamel's guidance, Cohen still managed to create an amazing toilet accessory on his own.

"I don't want to comment. I think I've gotten used to this kind of sudden madness," the count said, covering his eyes with his wings.

"It's done. Try moving around a bit."

Cohen said to the toilet.

"Hmm...this is..." The toilet strangely moved its new silver, long, metallic-looking accessory.

“I think I need to find an opportunity to capture a dark wizard and try this out,” Cohen said proudly, looking at his masterpiece.

The count finally couldn't resist and shifted his wings to steal a peek.

"Damn it, did I steal God's wife? Why is God treating me like this?!" "Is it just a mechanical arm?" Toilet asked innocently.

“I added some special little features to it,” Cohen grinned. “Try the lowest flush setting.”

"Ooooooooo!!!"

Suddenly, the entire room was illuminated by colorful light, like that emitted from a party glowball.

"..." The count seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

“It glows, isn’t that amazing?” Cohen said. “And it’s multicolored.”

“You’re insane, insane…” the count muttered. “You’ve gone mad because your father is doing well—because you’re too happy—you have to go find a Dementor—no, you are the Dementor—”

"So it can only emit light?" the toilet asked curiously.

“You’ve underestimated me,” Cohen said. “Try second gear in the water again.”

puff! ! !
A cluster of flames, almost reaching the ceiling, leaped up from it.

"My God!" the toilet exclaimed.

"There's also an electric motor mode—try it again—"

"Enough!" the Earl shrieked. "You didn't come all this way just to build a toilet bowl, did you?!"

"You've reminded me."

Cohen slapped his forehead and said,

“I originally wanted to make a slate that I could write and communicate with Carlton Gray in real time.”

“I find nothing in common between the ** and the stone slab,” the count said.

"It's all your fault," Cohen immediately shifted the blame to the Earl. "You were the one who insisted on finding a companion for the toilet, and then I had this brilliant idea—"

"It was you who insisted on taking the toilet out first!" the count retorted. "What do we need to take out this toilet that shouldn't be there to study?"

“I need to rewrite his vocal alchemical patterns because I’ve forgotten them,” Cohen said reasonably. “Re-deriving them will take a lot of time.”

"You're no longer content with just writing letters to that dark wizard; you want to start making phone calls, huh?" the count said, raising his head. "You little Dementor in heat."

“First, Dementors don’t have a mating season,” Cohen said, raising one finger after another. “Second, I don’t like people.”

"You don't actually like owls, do you?" The count covered his backside in horror.

"I see you also want the titanium alloy one, right?" Cohen asked with a smile.

The count fell silent.

Obviously, if a bird were fitted with this thing, it would be sentenced to a life without a wife.

Studying the stone tablet that could write letters to each other in real time was not too difficult, since Cohen had already learned the Synchronization Spell.

The only problem is the distance; such spells can generally only support synchronous changes within a mile, which means it's roughly equivalent to "online chat" within the Hogwarts area.

But there is one example that has already appeared—Voldemort branded the Dark Mark on the arms of Death Eaters.

So Cohen decided to learn from Voldemort.

"You're the first person I've ever seen write to Voldemort at a time like this just to learn how to brand the Dark Mark," the Earl said.

“That’s called a pure and noble thirst for knowledge,” Cohen said. “If you have the answer and don’t copy it down, isn’t that just plain stupid? I don’t even have to spend time preparing for any exams…”

(End of this chapter)