Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 548 Stealing the Grim Reaper's Soul is an Extremely Exciting Thing

Slughorn's soul struggles in the hands of death—

Cohen's first reaction was bewilderment, because he had never seen Death before, and so many people were dying right in front of him...

No, it seems like I've eaten the souls of everyone who died in front of me...

In a sense, I am actually someone who steals the job of the Grim Reaper.

“Horace?” Flitwick approached Slughorn and touched his almost invisible neck. “He’s dead—poisoned… How could this be…”

The onlookers covered their mouths, but most of the suspicious glances were directed at Cohen, because Cohen was the one who had suddenly rushed over and disrupted the whole scene.

Flitwick went to check Slughorn's cup and mead, trying to find out what was wrong.

Cohen was still staring at Death, who seemed to be dragging Slughorn's soul away from here—and he was about to leave through the door.

Edward frowned and looked at Cohen, who had suddenly rushed over, while Cohen was staring at the door.

“Cohen? What did you see?” Edward grabbed Cohen’s shoulder.

But Cohen had already slipped out through the mysteriously opened doorway.

“Mr. Norton, Cohen said he saw it—” Harry wanted to explain to Edward.

“I know, Harry.” Edward pressed Harry down into his seat. “You stay next to Professor Flitwick, I’m going to find Cohen.”
-
Meanwhile, Cohen had caught up with Death, who was about to disappear with Slughorn.

Slughorn's spirit was mouthing "Save me" to Cohen, who had clearly died in complete bewilderment.

Before he and Cohen had several unfinished deals...

Cohen immediately spent two thousand sin points to increase his soul strength.

[Soul Strength: 51.5]

Cohen has everything he needs now!
"Suck it-"

As Death dragged Slughorn's soul down the street, he sucked the soul into his mouth.

This time, Death did not disappear after Cohen approached. Instead, it slowly turned around, its forehead, as bark as withered tree trunk, furrowed tightly as it stared at Cohen in bewilderment.

"Mmm, mmm," Cohen mumbled incoherently to Death, his mouth filled with the image of a soul.

Death didn't do anything either, but followed Cohen, as if he wanted to take the opportunity to snatch back the soul, or as if he wanted to talk to Cohen after Cohen disposed of the soul (because his mouth was slightly open, as if he was about to speak).

"Cohen!" Edward caught up from behind. It was the same eerie scene. Cohen was staring into thin air, but this time his mouth was bulging, as if he had just eaten a piece of bread.

"Ugh... (I have Slughorn's soul in my mouth. There's no time to explain. I need to heal him quickly so I can spit him out, otherwise his money will end up in the hands of other Slughorn family members—and I can't wait to swallow the soul in my mouth...)"

Cohen was really about to lose control; who can resist swallowing a piece of frosted candy when they have it in their mouth?
It's not a good time to vomit it out yet, because Death is watching. Cohen feels that if he vomits it out, Slughorn will definitely be taken away by Death again.

"What?" Edward said, not having heard clearly.

Cohen checked Edward's collar and found he was still wearing the Dementor hearing aid Cohen had made himself—so Cohen repeated the story to Edward in the Dementor's thought process. Hearing that it could save lives, Edward didn't ask any more questions about what had just happened and quickly returned to the tavern with Cohen.

“A wine glass, Minister.” Flitwick waved a silver glass in his hand, the one Cohen remembered Slughorn had just been drinking from. “This is the key—it has a deactivated curse on it.”

"Everyone stop looking—Felius, let's carry him to a room—Rosmerta, could we use a room in your shop?" Edward waved his hand to disperse the students and villagers who were watching, and then said to Professor Flitwick and the landlady with three brooms standing to the side.

“Of course! There’s a room to the right of the back door, usually for guys who’ve had too much to drink at night,” Mrs. Rosmerta said worriedly, covering her mouth. “But poor old Horace seems to be… Good heavens, he used to teach me.”

“At least there’s still a chance.” Edward waved his wand, and Slughorn’s corpse floated up.

"Cohen, what happened?" Harry asked anxiously as he stood up and followed Cohen.

Cohen pointed to his bulging mouth and waved his hand.

Harry had no choice but to follow them in silence—he didn't want to be chased by a pub guy asking questions like "Who killed the Hogwarts professor?"

The room Ms. Rosmerta was referring to was a small guest room, but it was quite dust-free, indicating that people often stayed there. The air was filled with the pungent smell of alcohol.

"Cure him?" Professor Flitwick shook his head at Edward. "Edward, this spell has already killed him, even if..."

“His soul was stolen by Cohen—” Edward explained to Flitwick in the fewest words possible, “There must be some kind of spell that can remove the effects of that spell…?”

“I can try…” After hearing Edward’s words, Flitwick glanced at Cohen’s puffed-up cheeks and had a look of sudden realization. Then he began to mutter various spells to Slughorn, occasionally poking him with his wand.

Since it was impossible to determine whether the spell had worked, Cohen had to periodically try to put Slughorn's soul back into his body.

Then Slughorn went through a cycle of "struggling to open his eyes → finding his body not yet repaired → dying again while unable to breathe → Cohen reclaiming his soul, waiting for Flitwick to finish his next spell → struggling to open his eyes".

These attempts made Flitwick almost unable to bear watching.

“Or maybe we should just let him…” Flitwick said, frowning.

Cohen waved his hand, and Edward spoke for Cohen:

“Slughorn wanted to live—Cohen said.”

“Okay…” Flitwick shook his head, “I’ll try…”

Normally, no one would attempt to repair the internal structure of a dead wizard. Most magic used on the dead either makes it rise like an undead or keeps it clean and tidy as it was in life.

Fortunately, Flitwick was a master of spells, and after half an hour of trying, he managed to fix Slughorn's corpse.

“Hiss—whoosh…”

After Cohen put Slughorn's soul back into his body, Slughorn immediately opened his eyes and jumped out of bed at a speed he could never have done before, breathing in the long-lost air.

“Thank you, Merlin, it’s finally back to normal…” Flitwick wiped his sweat. “Horace, you seem to have problems all over your body—didn’t you go to St. Mungo’s for a checkup?”

“I simply don’t have time!” Slughorn said angrily. “The work Dumbledore has assigned is just too exhausting—wait, why are we here? Aren’t we supposed to be drinking?”

(End of this chapter)