Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 498 It's rotten! It stinks! (Very loudly)

“That’s a bit too much,” Cohen said. “Five won’t do.”

"Those four," the count bargained, "I'll do your history of magic homework next semester—"

"I'm not going to study History of Magic next semester."

Cohen closed his eyes, pulled the blanket tighter around himself, and realized how good the frost was only during the summer. The staff Cohen never used was only useful when he needed cooling.
"Two of them. You can go to Diagon Alley and get another one."

"You said it!"

As if afraid that Cohen would change his mind, the count flapped his wings and flew away.
-
The next day, Cohen could not find Edward and Rose anywhere early in the morning.

Only Mrs. Weasley and Sirius Black, who had returned late at night and seemed to have stayed up all night again, remained at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was leaning back in the armchair at the dining table, snoring. His hair hadn't been styled for days, making him look like a black wolfhound.

“Good morning, Mrs. Weasley,” Cohen said. “My mother’s out so early?”

"Yes, she said she was going to Austria, and I guess she won't be back today." Mrs. Weasley served Cohen five large meat pies, seemingly trying to fatten him up. "But don't worry, Mad-Eye went with her, she'll be fine."

After distributing the pies, Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen with the clattering empty plates.

"That's not what I'm worried about..."

Cohen tossed two pies, which he knew he couldn't finish, onto Sirius's plate, the clanging of the silverware waking him up.

"Austria?" Sirius exclaimed, startled. "Who went to Austria?"

“My mom,” Cohen said. “What happened in Austria?”

“I went to Austria a few days ago because there were traces of Death Eaters there,” Sirius said. “But when I got there, there was no sign of them—Dumbledore thinks Voldemort might have gone to Nurmengard.”

"In order to find a way to deal with me?" Cohen asked curiously. "Did you ask Grindelwald what exactly happened?"

“He could tell at a glance that I was sent by Dumbledore.” Sirius Black, after chewing on a piece of pie, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “‘I won’t say a word until Dumbledore himself comes here,’ those were his exact words.”

“I knew it,” Cohen said, rubbing his forehead.

I don't know if Rose can get any information out of him there, but Cohen thinks it's unlikely.

Dumbledore should have asked; Grindelwald would have done anything.

But Dumbledore definitely won't go, so the situation will remain deadlocked, and neither side can break through the defense.

Dumbledore didn't appear until seven o'clock in the evening, when the streetlights outside Grimmauld Place came on. He quickly crossed the square and went into the house.

"Cohen, are you ready?" Dumbledore asked Cohen after they met in the living room.

After receiving a definite answer from Cohen, Dumbledore had Cohen take his arm and Apparate with him.

Actually, I—

call!
In the blink of an eye, before Cohen could finish speaking, the two of them had already arrived at another place.

“You can come by yourself,” Cohen said with a strange expression. The feeling of an attendant appearing and one's own apparition appearing are not exactly the same, but rather completely unrelated—just like some people don't get carsick at all when driving themselves, but get carsick and nauseous as soon as they sit in the back seat or passenger seat of a car.

“According to the rules, underage wizards are not allowed to use magic outside of school,” Dumbledore cautioned. “Clearly, we haven’t encountered any of the special circumstances covered by the Act on Reasonable Restraint of Underage Wizards.”

“Ah, alright, alright, you old fogey,” Cohen said. “So, where is this?”

Cohen didn't even need to ask to know where he was.

The place they arrived at had been abandoned for a long time. It was a dilapidated and gloomy wooden shack far from the city. The wooden structure was covered with moss and nettles, and an S-shaped dead snake symbol was nailed to the door.

“Great Hangleton, the Gaunt family’s old house.” Dumbledore cleared a path with his wand to lead them toward the dilapidated shack. “This is where Voldemort’s grandfather lived. Voldemort didn’t like them.”

“So he killed them.” Cohen sniffed. “Then he made Horcruxes—I smelled magic in them.”

“Very perceptive, Cohen.” Dumbledore lit the tip of his wand. “I also noticed this when I was investigating this place, so I believe that Voldemort may have hidden a part of his soul here.”

“I’m starting to feel nauseous,” Cohen frowned. “I’ve never smelled a stinking soul before—I don’t eat this.”

"Does it smell different from the other Horcruxes?" Dumbledore looked down at Cohen through his half-moon spectacles.

“Yes, at least the locket and the diary don’t smell, but this has a stench of souls, it’s a bit nauseating,” Cohen said with disgust. “Dementors are cuter than this.”

“Hmm… I think I can understand.” Dumbledore pondered for a moment. “It makes perfect sense…”

“What’s reasonable?” Cohen pressed.

“I’ve obtained the memories of a long-time Ministry of Magic official,” Dumbledore said. “But explaining this in detail would be too complicated—if you have time next term, I can explain it to you and Harry in detail… If I understand correctly, the Horcrux Voldemort left here has a very obvious difference from the other Horcruxes.”

Gaunt's old house, the ring, Riddle.

Cohen suddenly understood why.

“Because he murdered his own blood relatives,” Cohen said.

“That’s right,” Dumbledore said. “From what I know, Voldemort killed everyone in the Gaunt and Riddle families after he returned here.”

“That sounds like me,” Cohen said. “Herbert said I killed everyone at Burke Manor too.”

“An unintentional death is not the same as a premeditated murder,” Dumbledore said. “Murder is a terrible and cruel act. Murder means the loss of a living life for a simple, malicious reason, an incomprehensible excuse. It does more to the soul than magic does—but you are different from him, Cohen. You have something he could never understand or obtain in his entire life: love.”

“Oh,” Cohen said.

No wonder Harry didn't understand Dumbledore's theory about "love"—it was indeed too abstract, and such a thing was too difficult for a teenager to understand.

However, Cohen understood, because he did feel nauseous from the smell of the Horcrux.

“Looks like I’ll have to use other methods,” Cohen said. “You wouldn’t mind if I turned into a basilisk and bit it, would you?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Dumbledore said. “But our primary concern now is how to find it.”

(End of this chapter)