Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 533 Calling Him Back
This is the last part of this memory.

The once-standing Burke Manor is now a ruin, with dark mist floating above it like lingering ghosts.

Herbert was stumbled out of the ground and was pulled up. Cohen saw Rose with disheveled hair and Edward holding a pale baby shrouded in black mist.

Harry swallowed hard.

“I believe you!” Rose screamed hysterically, her wand pressed against Herbert’s heart like a knife. “I thought you were the only family I could trust!”

“I’m sorry… Rose, I’m so sorry…” Herbert collapsed to the ground in a daze, his gaze falling on the child in Edward’s arms.

"Rose—Cohen—Cohen seems to be..."

Edward, breathing heavily, knelt in the snow, helplessly checking Cohen's vital signs with his hands.

Cohen approached Edward, wanting to see how he, as a child, had come back to life.

Dumbledore and Harry watched from a distance.

“Cohen? Cohen—” Rose released Herbert and rushed to Edward’s side.

Little Cohen in Edward's arms had stopped breathing, and large wisps of black mist were escaping from his body, making it look like little Cohen had developed black wounds.

Rose tried various spells to bring Cohen back to life, but to no avail.

Until Herbert leaned closer, seemingly lost in thought:

“His soul is shattered…like my child…I, I know a spell—I heard it from those lab technicians…”

"What spell?" Edward looked at Herbert with red eyes. "Speak—quickly!"

"It can mend the child's soul, but..."

“Speak!” Edward grabbed Herbert’s collar roughly.

“It needs to tear its own soul apart—only the soul can mend the soul…” Herbert said softly.

“I don’t care!” Edward said in a tone that was utterly unfamiliar and fierce to Cohen. “Tell me the spell—”

Herbert swallowed hard. This spell required no contact, not even a wand.

"Per hanc animam fractam, facito ut revertatur."

Dark red blood began to flow from the corner of Herbert's eye, but at the same time, little Cohen in Edward's arms suddenly resumed breathing, and the black mist dissipated much more slowly.

“Cohen!” Edward’s eyes lit up again.

“Per hanc animam fractam, facito…” Herbert continued chanting the incantation, and blood began to flow from his mouth and nose.

This is just a memory; Cohen can't see the strength of their souls, but it's clear that the pain from this spell has almost stopped Herbert from breathing.

Cohen had only regained his breathing; black mist was still seeping out little by little from the cracks in his body. This small amount of soul was far from enough.

“Per hanc animam fractam, facito ut revertatur…” Edward memorized Herbert’s spell, and after Herbert fainted due to weakness and soul-tearing pain, he also began to recite the spell.

"Stop."

Cohen looked at Dumbledore.
"Take me out of here—I don't want to watch this part."

Dumbledore grabbed their shoulders, and they stood back on the floor of the headmaster's office.

“Cohen, I’m so sorry…” Harry wanted to comfort Cohen.

“No, I just don’t want to look closely.” Cohen felt extremely uncomfortable, as if something was clenching his heart. “I’m sorry, Cohen,” Dumbledore said compassionately, “I know that reliving painful memories often makes one's suffering even more…”

“I know the purpose of giving me this memory,” Cohen said. “Herbert also knew about the prophecy, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore nodded. “Cohen, we can understand him. He just doesn’t want to lose you again—”

“I know,” Cohen said. “Edward and Rose certainly don’t want this either, and neither do Sissoko and the others.”

“That old man named Taft…” Harry looked at Cohen.

“If Edward knew that Taft was actually the mastermind behind that experiment, what if he knew…” Cohen said.

“Edward already knows,” Dumbledore said, “but his choice is clearly not to kill the culprit outright. Ignatius Taft is still alive, though completely bound in the Department of Mysteries’ execution chamber. He’s a good source of information, at least until all the Silver Keys are brought to justice.”

"So, are we going to look at other people's memories next?" Cohen asked.

“Yes, it’s a memory from an old friend of mine at the Ministry of Magic, about Voldemort’s ancestors—oh my god, it’s getting late, Cohen, Harry, maybe we should meet again next week. You two need to go to bed.”

Dumbledore glanced at the pocket watch in his pocket.
“Cohen, I’m sorry tonight’s lesson made you relive those terrible things, but I have to say, you were excellent, exceptionally excellent, better than me, or even anyone I’ve ever met.”
-
Upon returning to their dormitory, Cohen and Harry saw Hermione and Ron waiting for them in the common room late at night.

Ron was so tired that he fell asleep leaning back in his armchair.

"Ron! They're back!" Hermione was doing her homework when she heard the Fat Lady's portrait spinning open. She immediately looked up and saw Cohen and Harry, then nudged the sleeping Ron.

"What! The mysterious person has arrived!" Ron was startled.

“There was no Voldemort, but there was something far more terrifying: a Dementor that hadn’t eaten its midnight snack and was starving,” Cohen said.

"Sounds better than dying at Voldemort's hands. At least I could be used as food instead of a skinny bone under a tombstone." Ron yawned, then exclaimed as he looked down at the parchment he had just been lying on, "How did you take so long—Blood Mother Hell! My paper only has a title! I remember writing ten inches!"

“You probably wrote it in your dream, you big dreamer,” Hermione said mercilessly, then looked curiously at Cohen and Harry. “What did Professor Dumbledore teach you? Was it a rare spell?”

“No.” Harry looked at Cohen. “We saw a flashback—and then that was it.”

“Ah…” Ron said with some disappointment.

"About the Mysterious Man?" Hermione asked, leaning forward as if asking a question to a teacher.

“About me,” Cohen said. “Hermione, could I borrow your translation dictionary?”

“Of course! I just finished my Ancient Runes homework,” Hermione said generously. “I ordered this separately from the owner of Flourish and Blotts—it can look up translations in several languages, such as Nerubian, Latin, and even Old Chinese and Gujarati…”

"That sounds like a book I'd never even look at..." Ron said regretfully, "So Hermione, could you please do your homework..."

“No,” Hermione said sternly, then placed a thick book in front of Ron. “Page 113. You need to understand this yourself before you can do this assignment.”

“I’m going to bed now,” Harry said, then looked at Cohen with concern. “Cohen, shouldn’t you get some rest too?”

“No, I have something to look into,” Cohen said.

He found an empty table, then dragged over a bottle of ink, a quill pen, and a roll of parchment, placing the Dictionary of Ancient Languages ​​that Hermione had lent him aside.

Per hanc animam fractam, facito ut revertatur.

Cohen found the meaning of the spell in the Latin language family.

With this remnant soul, we call Him back.

(End of this chapter)