Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 545 "An Audience with Death"

“I feel like you’re the only one in the world who could give birth to such an owl,” Cohen said disapprovingly. “Admit it, that’s just your gene.”

"My genes definitely weren't for 'mother fucker' being the first thing someone says after birth!" the Earl said, turning his head away. "I wanted it to be a good owl!"

"Forget it, you're not even a proper owl yourself. It's already a good thing your egg didn't hatch into a half-human."

Cohen comforted him.
"And you're probably used to being surrounded by profanity, right? Do you remember how many 'fucks' you've said?"

"Do you remember how much bread you've eaten?" the count asked dryly.

“Bitch,” the young count said.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" the count roared in fury.
-
By mid-October, the Earl had given up on the idea of ​​raising his child to be a normal owl—it ​​had been just as abnormal as the Earl since birth, and some instincts are unchangeable.

Of course, Cohen felt that this might also be related to the Earl's prenatal education—he must have said some swear words while incubating the eggs, and then this magical little Earl learned them.

Aside from the Earl's problems, Harry wasn't really focused on anything important either. He became obsessed with the Half-Blood Prince textbook because it contained many spells he had never seen before.

These spells are very easy to master—they contain a lot of dark magic, which is known for its low barrier to entry.

Harry just hasn't realized that yet.

Hermione was the first to become suspicious of this strange textbook, because Harry had used the upside-down bell on Ron in the dormitory, suspending Ron headfirst in the air.

“I simply can’t believe it, Harry, that you’ve decided to experiment with a handwritten, unfamiliar spell.”

In the Gryffindor common room on Saturday, Hermione spoke very sternly after hearing that Ron had been suspended from the ceiling by a spell cast by Harry the previous night:

"It could be dangerous! What if it's black magic?"

“It’s just a joke, Hermione,” Ron said for Harry. “It’s just a joke, Mr. Norton’s textbooks even have swear words—it’s normal—”

“But Mr. Norton doesn’t claim to be a prince, nor does he write strange, unknown spells in his textbooks,” Hermione said. “Who would spend the time and effort to study spells that hook ankles and hang people upside down?”

“Mr. Norton said my dad used it.” Harry suddenly remembered. “Remember, ‘When I get the diary I’ll tell James Potter and he’ll hang you from a tree and show everyone your underwear, like he did to Snape in Slytherin—’”

"You seem to care more about my dad's diary than I do about his," Cohen joked.

Harry cast a pleading look toward Cohen.

“Well, yes, Edward’s diary does mention that phrase—which shows that the spell was popular in that era,” Cohen said helplessly.

“Hermione, you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” Ron said. “You’re only clinging to the prince because he’s better at Potions than you—”

“Who said that?” Hermione said angrily. “Cohen is doing very well too, isn’t he? I’m not holding a grudge against Cohen. It’s not the same thing at all! Ron, use your brain! Trying to use a spell on someone without knowing it? What if Harry used a very dangerous, harmful spell? You could be in mortal danger!”

But Ron and Harry clearly didn't believe that a student would write a dangerous and harmful dark magic spell in their textbook.

“I’m on Hermione’s side this time,” Cohen said fairly. “It’s best if the first test subject isn’t a human.”

“Perhaps we should give this book to the professor, and…” Hermione said.

“Alright,” Harry said quickly, “I promise I won’t try spells on anyone again—are you going to Hogsmeade later?”

“Go ahead, I want to buy some honey tarts and some owl food,” Ron said. “Cohen, if you can…” “The Earl’s food is his own responsibility,” Cohen said, shrugging. “You’ll have to discuss this with the Earl—but I also need to go to Hogsmeade to see if I can catch a Death Eater.”

“There aren’t any Death Eaters in Hogsmeade now…” Harry said. “I mean, a place like that would be very heavily guarded, and there might even be Dementors—”

“That would be even better.” Cohen’s eyes lit up.

To help Neville research a potion to treat brain damage, they need test subjects, preferably human ones.

The Dementors could help Cohen get a few captured Death Eaters to use as test subjects.

"...Ouch, why does my tooth suddenly hurt?" Cohen rubbed his cheek.

“I have to go too; I need to buy some parchment and ink.”

When they arrived at the oak gate, Filch was already watching the group of students heading to Hogsmeade Village.

“Don’t even think about carrying any dark magic stuff,” Filch would say ominously to a student from time to time, even if that student didn’t have a single large bag from head to toe.

Besides checking the students' names, he would use a long, steel-like probe to poke around on the students.

"Shouldn't you check what we brought back?" Ron said, clearly annoyed after being poked several times. "So what if we smuggled some dark magic items out?"

Because of that remark, Ron got poked several more times by Filch, and Cohen gave Ron a round of crazy mockery after they left Hogwarts.

"Come on, Cohen, what's so funny!" Ron said irritably. "I'm in pain all over right now!"

"Hahahaha, hiccup—Filch—thin stick—you—" Cohen laughed, rubbing his stomach, "and then my whole body aches—"

Harry laughed out loud after he caught Cohen's strange sense of humor.

“Hmm.” Hermione shook her head. “A boy.”

The first half of the journey to Hogsmeade was fine, but after they crossed a bridge and lost the shelter of the trees on both sides, the biting wind began to slap them hard.

Wearing a short-sleeved shirt, Cohen was clearly the most stylish guy among the Hogwarts students.

Only Cohen could withstand the sudden cold of the Scottish Highlands in October.

"Aren't you cold?" Ron asked, shivering as he wrapped his coat tightly around himself.

“A super physique,” ​​Cohen said, arms crossed, “unrivaled throughout history—hmm?”

Suddenly, as Cohen was striking a pose, he spotted a figure at the back of the line—

He was an incredibly withered old man, his face wrinkled more than tree bark, and his head was completely bald.

Like Cohen, he wore only a thin coat in the cold wind, following their group step by step.

Cohen had never seen this person at Hogwarts, and this person had a very strange feeling, so strange that Cohen wanted to just throw a spell at him to test its ingredients.

This old man has no soul.

(End of this chapter)