Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 466 Who turned Voldemort into this?!
“The bureaucracy is still too strong.” Cohen nodded. “It seems we need to train the Dementors to be smarter creatures and then let them take over various positions. That way, there won’t be any bad practices like bribery.”

“Ha, I knew you weren’t up to any good if you wanted your dad to be minister,” the count said sarcastically. “Dementors can’t even write reports, no, they can’t even hold meetings—I don’t believe you, as the only one who can understand Dementors, would want to work with them every day.”

“I’m very noble, okay?” Cohen said.

“The tone of your words is quite disrespectful,” the Earl said. “Evil Dementor brats, even if Dementors were officials, there would surely be people who would bribe them with happiness—if humans could talk to them.”

“That won’t be long, and the Dementors won’t have to worry about food anymore,” Cohen said.

[Kindness Quest (5/7)]

[5. Prevent Voldemort from obtaining the prophecy orb about the "Death and Rebirth of the Dark Lord"]

[Reward: 5000 Goodwill Points, Dementor Mind Synchronizer Blueprint]

Once this task of the system is completed, the biggest obstacle to the Dementors' appointment will be gone.

"?" The Earl looked at Cohen in horror.

It thought Cohen meant to turn people into food for the Dementors.

“What weird stuff are you thinking about?” Cohen said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Cohen showed his brain to the Earl.

"You actually recreated that mind-eating monster from your dad's sandbox?" the count asked strangely.

“No, this one doesn’t have claws, but it’s similar in nature; it also ‘eats’ people’s minds,” Cohen said. “Remember that secret weapon the Ministry of Magic was researching to deal with Dementors?”

"That?" The count tilted his head, looking at the brain swimming around in the fish tank, and moved a little closer. "It doesn't seem as dangerous as me."

Boom!
"Goodness gracious!" The count was startled by the sudden impact of his head hitting the tank wall.

“You’ve hurt its pride,” Cohen reminded it.

"Damn it, can't you keep a docile creature?" the count said angrily.

“Sissoko isn’t docile enough,” Cohen said. “There’s also Mick, the old basilisk, oh, Norber, and the old water serpent is alright too, and the griffin isn’t exactly docile either… So, apart from Ari and the little basilisk, they’re all pretty docile. The only thing Ari isn’t docile about is that she’s always swearing.”

“You—sigh…I…” the count sighed, “How could you have bought me and brought me home…”

Edward's letter arrived the next day.

The letter begins with the line, "What? You received a brain? Does it have legs? Can you take a picture and show it to me?" Then comes the promise to Cohen not to kill the rest of the brain—actually, Edward wasn't planning to continue the plan anyway, because he's still confused about being suddenly nominated as a candidate for Minister of Magic.

It feels like someone who's been lying down for thirty years has suddenly been dragged out of bed to run a marathon.

"I can't believe what the wizarding world will become in the future," the Earl said regretfully. "At least the owls don't have a president."

"The world is just a giant makeshift operation, all the same. So, do you want to be the owl president?" Cohen asked casually.

"Me? Then I'll open an owl-themed brothel," the count said dreamily, "and then..."

“Is that all you’ve got?” Cohen said, gripping the Earl’s head. “You’re going to organize owl marches calling for ‘owl rights to be taken seriously.’ Anyone who doesn’t like owls, go and find every possible way to suppress, insult, and oppress them. First, gather a group of people loyal to the ‘Owl Cult’ to form an extremist group. Then, use customized services like ‘Cherish Your Owl,’ owl movies, owl merchandise, and ‘miracle potions that turn you into an owl’ to make a fortune off the idiots in these extremist groups…”

“You know what you’re saying, don’t you?” the count asked Cohen.

“Hmm,” Cohen hummed. “Nobody can dislike a talking owl.”

Fighting for the rights of owls is not something Cohen needs to consider right now, but it is indeed a good approach. The Earl, as the only talking owl at present, is an excellent gimmick.

But Cohen needed to focus on more important things, such as the night raid on the Ministry of Magic a week later.

Meanwhile, Voldemort began his own scheme, and for the remainder of the week, Harry had nightmares every night. January 20th, morning.

“Harry, your dark circles are really bad,” Hermione said worriedly. “Hasn’t Snape taught you yet?”

“Twice,” Harry said, yawning. “But he didn’t actually teach me anything—he just wanted to pry into my privacy, and I realized that…”

“The brain surgery works like this; it mainly relies on toughening up resistance,” Cohen said.

“But you can’t go on like this, you’ll go crazy,” Hermione said. “We have to tell Professor Dumbledore—”

“He’s already given me a solution.” Harry sounded impatient, slept-deprived. “Snape doesn’t want to teach, and there’s nothing he can do—all he does is mock me and humiliate my dad…”

“Even if I wanted to tell him, it wouldn’t make a difference; today is another day Dumbledore isn’t at school,” Cohen said.

"Have all these dreams been the same?" Ron asked. "About the Department of Mysteries?"

“Yes, the room was full of shelves of marbles, and nobody was there—I don’t know why Voldemort wanted to go there so much,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. His scar started to ache again, so early in the morning.

Cohen greatly admired Voldemort's dedication. He himself would never want to get up so early to drill into a student's head and transmit strange images to it if he weren't in school.

“The Department of Mysteries has a lot of stuff, including brain monsters that can deal with Dementors,” Cohen said. “Maybe he wants some kind of weapon to use against you—or maybe it’s the same weapon he wants to use against Dumbledore.”

“Don’t be silly. If such a weapon really existed, the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t have allowed Dumbledore to continue as Headmaster, right?” Hermione said rationally. “When they most wanted Dumbledore to leave, they didn’t choose to attack him directly. At that time, Dumbledore was even being attacked by the entire British wizarding community. It was a good opportunity to bring him down, but they didn’t do that. Instead, they sent a senior investigator to investigate Dumbledore’s problems, which speaks volumes.”

But Harry didn't seem willing to believe Hermione, as if his own mind was refuting Hermione's arguments.

"Go to class, I'll have to hope I don't fall asleep in class today..." Harry said sleepily.

Harry's hopes were dashed.

As soon as he entered the history of magic classroom, he lay down on the table and fell asleep.

Just before class ended, Harry suddenly woke up in a cold sweat—

“Mr. Perkins, what’s wrong?” Professor Binns was startled by Harry’s actions.

"No, it's nothing, Professor..." Harry quickly shrank back, looking as if he had become one with the desk.

"Homework: Write a paper on the War of the Giants..." Professor Binns' slow voice rang out along with the end of get out of class bell.

“Harry, how about we go see Madam Pomfrey?” Hermione asked.

“No, she can’t do that…” Harry said, rubbing his temples. “I know…”

“I really want to help you,” Cohen said, “but there’s no way I can turn you into a Dementor too—a Dementor can’t have its brain invaded.”

“This isn’t an intrusion,” Harry said confidently. “I have a feeling he’s unaware of the connection—because I saw him taking a shower.”

"?"

"?"

"?"

Cohen didn't expect this either.

bath?

morning?

Damn it, who turned Voldemort into this?
(End of this chapter)