Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 509 It's fate! It's an unfair fate that sent me here!
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[Ordinary Wizard Level Exam Results]

Passing grades: Excellent (O) Good (E) Pass (A)

Unsatisfactory grades: Poor (P) Very Poor (D) Extremely Poor (T)

Cohen Edward Norton's grades are as follows:
Astronomy: E
Protecting Fantastic Beasts: O
Charmsology: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: O
Muggle Studies: E
Herbalism: O
History of Magic: O
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O——
The fact that Cohen has eight O's indicates that he is a qualified Dementor.

“Only Divination and History of Magic failed,” Ron said gleefully after seeing his grades. “But who cares about that stuff? Harry, Cohen, here you go—come on, trade—”

He generously handed the report card to Harry and Cohen, who were sitting opposite him.

"Not too bad..."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief after seeing his grades, but he still seemed a little disappointed. He exchanged a few words with Ron and then peeked over to look at Cohen.

"Cohen, how did you do on the exam—hiss—"

Harry gasped when he saw the dense array of Os and Es on Cohen's report card, staring at Cohen in disbelief.

"What? What?" Ron had already dropped Harry's report card and ran around the long table towards Cohen. "Cohen, what are your grades—Merlin's Boots, no way..."

"It's a bit of a shame; it's still quite difficult to study Muggle research with only a few days of review," Cohen said regretfully.

"How did you do that!" Ron punched Cohen on the shoulder, saying incredulously, "We copied the homework together!"

“That shows I’m exceptionally gifted,” Cohen said. “Of course, we can’t rule out the possibility that the minister’s son might have received policy advantages.”

“You can learn whatever you want now!” Ron said enviously. “If I had grades like that, my mom would agree to anything I wanted.”

"Hey!" Cohen's eyes lit up.

"Hermione?" Harry noticed Hermione staring blankly at her report card at the other end of the table and asked with some confusion, "How are your grades?"

Ron was faster, rushing up behind Hermione in a few strides, and Hermione didn't try to hide—

"It's alright..." Hermione said softly.

"Come on—" Ron looked at her report card, half amused and half annoyed, and said, "Nine excellent grades and one good grade—it's Defense Against the Dark Arts. And you're actually disappointed?"

Hermione shook her head, Harry laughed, and Cohen began to devise new plans for the afternoon.

“Now we’re all NEWT students.” Ron patted Hermione on the shoulder happily. “Cheer up, Hermione, you’ve actually beaten all the other students in this grade.”

“It’s a shame I don’t think I can become an Auror,” Harry said. “My Potions class is only E—Snape won’t let me into his advanced class.”

“That’s easy,” Cohen said. “Just learn from the goat. You can take the exam directly in seventh grade. Goats can also brew potions, but you have to tell it beforehand which version you want to learn, otherwise it will subconsciously teach you the Greek version, which has a slightly different process than the British one.”
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August 1st, 9 PM, in the newly built activity room of the Ministry of Magic.

The nighttime activities here have ended, and only two people remain. Edward and Arnold are secretly having a late-night snack, the smell of barbecue filling the entire room.

But this tranquility was shattered by an unexpected visitor.

"How did you come?"

Edward stared at the person in the doorway, then quickly wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth with a towel from the table.

“You’re scared,” the man said.

"Who sent you?!" Edward suddenly realized something and panicked. "It's fate!" The man took a deep breath. "An unfair fate sent me here!"

"Should I use a Disillusionment Charm to hide?" Arnold said, but his hands didn't stop moving at all—he took advantage of Edward's inattention to the remaining skewers of grilled meat on the table and quickly ate a few more, taking the time to watch the scene in front of him with great interest.

“It’s not that serious…” Edward said, rubbing his forehead. “Cohen, what if your mother asked you to come check up on him…”

"How did you recognize me?!" Cohen said incredulously, then deactivated "become human".

This was just tested today. The "Animagus form imitator that can transform into a human" that I received before can not only transform me into Cohen, who is almost a human, but also into anyone who is almost a human.

This effectively compensates for the fact that Cohen cannot drink compound decoctions.

Unfortunately, even with this trick, Edward still saw through Cohen's disguise as a nightclub witch at a glance.

“How could I not recognize my own son?” Edward sighed. “What are you doing here? Did your mother send you?”

“No, I’m here to arrest you. You sneaked out for a midnight snack without me,” Cohen said, pointing at people. “And I want my ‘summer vacation freedom’ back.”

“This isn’t your dad’s fault.” Arnold wiped his hands, his face greasy, and burped. “I only lost to him for a month’s worth of food money, not to you. If I had added another person to the list, wouldn’t I have lost a whole month’s salary?”

“I’ve never taken away your ‘right to run around during summer vacation,’ okay…” Edward pulled Cohen to where he had just been sitting.

“Eight Os,” Cohen said.

“Yes, yes, eight Os,” Edward said helplessly.

“Pretending to work overtime, but actually playing board games with the Director of the Sports Department and the Director of the International Exchange Department,” Cohen said. “And having late-night snacks.”

As he spoke, Cohen looked at Edward's stomach.

"I remember my mother reminding me."

Edward subconsciously touched his beer belly, which was already starting to take shape.

“The right to run around during summer vacation,” Cohen said.

"..."

"And take me to eat BBQ in Chinatown," Cohen said. "You've never taken me there—"

“That won’t do,” Arnold exclaimed. “I’m adding a clause to the betting: no more people are allowed to join!”

“Alright… but you have to promise me you won’t go looking for Voldemort or go to nightclubs,” Edward conceded. “And bring your suitcase.”

"Deal." Cohen bumped fists with Edward.

"Deal." Edward then clapped his fists. "In that case, Arnold—how about the kebabs?!"

"I don't know, I probably just finished eating without noticing," Arnold said, feigning innocence.

“You stingy old bald man—” Edward lunged at him fiercely.

“You old gambler who takes advantage of your subordinates!” Arnold retorted without backing down.

(End of this chapter)