Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 523 E·C·N
The first class on the second day was Potions, and Harry and Ron didn't even need to bring their backpacks—

"Are we really going to be able to borrow the books and materials from Professor Slughorn?" Ron asked. "What if we get kicked out... wait, no, if we get kicked out, we'll lose another course..."

“Ron, is missing a class something to look forward to?” Hermione asked, puzzled. “It means your job opportunities will be even more limited—”

“That’s something I should think about after graduation.” Ron had already abandoned all plans. “Hermione, all you need is a bunch of NEWT certificates…”

"What does my pile of NEWT certificates have to do with you?" Hermione asked, tilting her head back.

“That way I can—” Ron suddenly fell silent.

"Tsk tsk tsk." Cohen made a series of intriguing tsk tsk sounds.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Harry said, smacking his lips in agreement with Cohen.

“Shut up, you two,” Ron said angrily.

For some reason, Hermione also chuckled softly.

At the entrance to Potions class, Slughorn, with his large pregnant belly, stood at the door, smiling and greeting the students who came in.

“It’s starting to resemble that kind of place more and more,” Cohen said, leaning closer to Harry. “I’ve already figured out how to fabricate his backstory—”

"How wild?" Harry asked, very curious.

“I can hear you, kids,” Slughorn said with a smile as he patted Cohen and Harry on the shoulder as they walked past. “But please portray me a little more upright in the history books. I don’t want my grave to be deserted.”

However, when he greeted those "unknown and not very good" students, his attitude was not as good as it was towards Cohen and Harry.

Slughorn transformed the Potions classroom in a way that was completely different from what Snape's teachers did.

The room was no longer gloomy and dark, but bright and tidy with several tables and crucibles emitting steam of various colors propped up in a circle in the middle of the classroom.

Harry pulled Cohen to sit down next to a golden cauldron.

Cohen could tell at a glance that the pot contained aphrodisiacs.

It also exudes a sweet scent of soul and joy, the fragrance of lavender laundry detergent, Edward's body odor, and the smell of Rose's hair.

When Cohen looked at Harry and Ron, he saw that the two of them were grinning foolishly as if they had thought of something.

"Alright, alright." Slughorn clapped his hands after class, drawing all the students' attention to him. "Class, take out your scales, your potion pouches, and don't forget your 'Advanced Potion Making' textbook—"

“Sir?” Harry said, raising his hand.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Slughorn asked with a smile, his figure appearing elusive behind a cloud of steaming vapor.

“I have no books or scales, nothing at all—Ron too, because we didn’t expect to be in advanced classes—” Harry said somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh, it’s alright, kids. Professor McGonagall told me about this. You can borrow these. You can use the materials in the storage cabinet and the old textbooks in the classroom first, and then you can write to Flourish and Blotts…” Slughorn said, then strode to the storage cabinet in the corner, took out two tattered copies of “Advanced Potions Making” and two sets of faded scales, and handed them to Harry and Ron.

The moment the two books arrived, Harry and Ron secretly began to fight over them—but Harry was a step too slow and could only get the slightly worn one.

Cohen peered to the left and right as the two flipped through their books—Harry's book had a small note on the back cover: "This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince."

Ron's book had no name on the cover or title page, but Cohen noticed an E.C.N. written on the side. It looked so familiar…

But Cohen couldn't immediately recall who E.C.N. was.

There is also a faint trace of magic in the book, which has been there for so long that it is almost lost.

"Ugh." Ron made a barely audible sound of disgust as he turned to a page that was crumpled and had a strange color, as if someone had vomited on that page.

No one has complained about Harry's books, but they are covered with writing by the original owner, and some of the original text has even been erased.

“Alright, I’ve prepared a few potions for you to see, just out of interest, of course. Once you’ve completed the advanced course, you should be able to make these things yourselves.” Slughorn’s voice brought them back to the classroom. “But even if you haven’t made them yourself, some of you might be able to identify them… So now, can anyone tell me what this potion is?”

As he spoke, Slughorn pointed to the cauldron near the Slytherin table.

Hermione raised her hands like rabbit ears.

Slughorn pointed at her, looking at her expectantly.

“It’s Truth Potion, a colorless and odorless potion that forces people to tell the truth,” Hermione replied quickly.

“Very good, very good!” Slughorn said happily, then pointed to another cauldron, “Now… this one is more famous, it’s featured prominently in the Ministry of Magic’s pamphlets, who can—”

Hermione raised her hand again, and Slughorn called on her.

“It’s a compound decoction, sir, that can transform one person into another,” Hermione said.

“Great! And this kind here too…you mean, darling?” Slughorn was surprised to see Hermione raise her hand again, this time before she even sat down.

“It’s an aphrodisiac, the most effective love potion in the world,” Hermione said.

“Absolutely right!” Slughorn exclaimed in delight. “I think you recognized it by its distinctive mother-of-pearl luster, didn’t you?”

“And then there’s its distinctive, spiraling steam,” Hermione said. “And its scent varies from person to person; I can smell freshly mowed lawn, brand-new parchment, and toothpaste—”

Hermione suddenly blushed and stopped talking.

“Darling, may I ask you your name?” Slughorn asked, his eyes filled with the joy of discovering a treasure of a student.

However, Cohen wasn't paying attention in class. When Hermione mentioned the love potion, Cohen suddenly realized something and turned to Ron to whisper something.

“Let’s get a new textbook, here you go,” Cohen said.

"Huh?" Ron looked at Cohen in disbelief. "Someone threw up on this book—"

“This is hard to explain to you,” Cohen said, then switched the positions of his textbook with Ron’s.

Cohen knew who E.C.N. was; no wonder he seemed so familiar with him.

It's not surprising that Edward Charson Norton's old textbook is here, probably because Arnold vomited on this page—but Cohen is more curious about what little secret Edward hid in the book and used magic to protect the marks on it.

(End of this chapter)