Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 517 The life of a ruler, his subjects, and his son is cut short.
After the dinner party ended, Cohen, urged by Hermione, went to Dumbledore's office—but since Dumbledore didn't return, he had to wait at the door, like a delinquent boy lurking to ambush an old man.

"We meet again, cheerful Dementor," said the stone beast at the headmaster's office door. "You two are quite close, aren't you?"

“Say one more word and I’ll throw you into Grindelwald’s little room and tell him you’re Dumbledore’s favorite statue because you also have a German accent,” Cohen said.

“No need to argue with a statue, Cohen.” Dumbledore appeared behind Cohen with a smile. “Shouldn’t you be asleep at this hour?”

“If I don’t come to you, Hermione will go to Professor McGonagall, which will lead to a whole plot that I can even foresee,” Cohen said. “Going directly to you will solve a large part of the problem.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to see me. Come in,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

“See?” said the statue.

Cohen made a funny face at the statue.

Upon arriving at the principal's office—it must be said that Cohen does indeed come several times a year, and seeing these portraits of Cohen has become quite commonplace.

"So, what are you trying to tell me?" Dumbledore pulled up a cushioned chair for Cohen and sat down behind his desk. "Something Minerva won't believe, but you have to tell the professors."

“Draco Malfoy is Voldemort’s man,” Cohen said. “But I guess you know that I saw Snape at Voldemort’s side last time, and he’ll tell you.”

“He did tell me,” Dumbledore said, though his expression wasn’t as relaxed as when he came in. “And I do know the boy’s current situation.”

“I guess he got a mission to murder someone,” Cohen said. “Either you, me, or Harry.”

“Or, the three of us,” Dumbledore said.

“That’s a bit too arrogant. He doesn’t even know how to cast a Patronus Charm,” Cohen said.

“He has no choice, Cohen,” Dumbledore said, his eyes filled with pity. “Just as a person cannot choose his birth, he also cannot interfere with his parents’ decisions, but that does not mean that the child should accept the fate that has been arranged for him and walk step by step into the abyss.”

“I didn’t see you interfere with Edward’s arrangements for me,” Cohen said indignantly. “He very cunningly used family ties to coerce me into going—”

“Five subjects is the average number of courses a sixth-year student at Hogwarts takes, Cohen,” Dumbledore said. “And you’d love to, wouldn’t you?”

“Alright, role-playing,” Cohen said. “So what’s your plan for Malfoy?”

"Let him succeed?"

"You don't want your sister anymore?" Cohen raised an eyebrow.

“Let him succeed.” Dumbledore repeated, giving Cohen a slight smile. “The message from Severus is that Voldemort was furious because Lucius Malfoy—Draco’s father—was the first to flee in that battle, and as punishment, he gave Draco a choice.”

“That sounds like something Voldemort would do,” Cohen said.
"The cruelest way to hurt a father is to lure his son toward suffering and death," Dumbledore said. "It must be said that Voldemort's punishment did indeed play a good regulatory role among the Death Eaters; they even dared to attack Muggles and wizards of Muggle origin while being searched by Dementors."

“What kind of choice is this?” Cohen asked.

“You, Harry, and I, three lives. If we kill one, Lucius’s sins will be wiped clean. If we kill two, Draco will receive the knowledge Voldemort has taught him,” Dumbledore said. “If we kill three, the Malfoys will become the most powerful Death Eaters under Voldemort.”

Cohen was starting to lose his composure.

Voldemort's arrangement felt like a "go and get rid of Tang Sanzang and his disciples" scenario. "This is an impossible task," Dumbledore said. "Cohen, as you can see, it would seem ridiculous to most people. There's a line in a Muggle play that I really like: 'When a small person encounters a dangerous person, he is bound to get burned.'"

“It sounds like Shakespeare,” Cohen said.

Although it is modern English, it still has a bit of an Old English flavor.

“A very thoughtful man,” Dumbledore said. “It is a very wrong idea that wizards arrogantly overlook the wisdom of Muggles.”

"So you still want him to succeed?" Cohen asked.

“Yes, I want him to succeed,” Dumbledore said, “but not you, and not Harry.”

“I am much older than you, or to put it less modestly, much stronger than you,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes fixed on Cohen. “But at the same time, my existence is of much less value than yours, while the value of my death is far greater than yours.”

“Or think of another way,” Cohen said.

“This is not a simple murder, Cohen,” Dumbledore said. “Draco is a hostage, and the criminals want to trade his life for mine.”

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed.

"I need your help with this."

“Oh—” Cohen understood what he meant, “I can lend it to you, but who should come in the end?”

“Severus will do it,” Dumbledore said. “He has an agreement with Draco’s mother.”

"Can I get involved?" Cohen asked eagerly. "I want to murder you too—"

“That would be too hurtful to an old man,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle. “However, of course you can—but it’s best not to let Severus know about it, for the effects of that agreement are far more profound than you or I can imagine.”
-
"What's got you so happy, you damned little Dementor?"

In the common room, the Earl was telling dirty jokes to Harry and the others when he saw Cohen's smile and asked, puzzled.

"Cohen, what did Dumbledore say?" Harry asked eagerly.

“Dumbledore will handle it. Don’t worry, no one will be hurt,” Cohen said.

"But what exactly does Dumbledore intend to do—"

“Harry, you heard what Cohen said.” Hermione pressed Harry down.

"It means he'll take over the rest of the arrangements, and you're responsible for studying hard and making progress every day," Cohen said. "What's the Earl doing here? Aren't you going to stick with your wife anymore?"

“Hmph, you’d never guess,” the Earl said smugly, turning his head as he sat on a hastily woven bird’s nest that looked as if Hermione had magically created it.

"Is this really yours?" Cohen asked suspiciously.

"I've been monitoring it for a whole month!" the Earl glared angrily at Cohen. "This egg is definitely mine!"

(End of this chapter)