Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 556: Naming yourself Lucifer is just too childish!
"It might be due to the size..."

Cohen looked at the inappropriate illustrations in the book and said...

"No wonder only sixth and seventh graders can borrow this book."

Not every book is as interesting as this little yellow book; most literature on possession and mind magic is quite dry.

Cohen flipped through book after book until he found one called "The Crimes of Sisyphus: Death Can Be Deceived".

It records a Greek wizard named Sisyphus—Cohen feels that most of the records are the same as the Sisyphus in the myth, who claimed to have caught Death, and there were indeed no "definite deaths" in a large area around that time.

Because even without the Grim Reaper, the dead can still roam the earth and even possess the bodies of other living people.

This abnormal situation continued until Sisyphus's sudden death, which was accompanied by the deaths of a large number of people in the city. Some people believe that Sisyphus was a mad dark wizard who experimented on all the Muggles in the city, while others believe that Sisyphus did briefly capture Death, but Death took revenge on mortals after regaining his freedom.

"How silly, isn't it?"

Cohen heard Dumbledore's voice—but how did Dumbledore end up in the library?
Looking up from the pile of books, it was as if everyone in the library had suddenly vanished into thin air; all around was silent.

An old man who looked exactly like Dumbledore sat opposite Cohen. Cohen judged that he was not Dumbledore because Dumbledore would never lounge back in a chair with his legs crossed and arms folded over his chest, with a fake friendly smile on his face.

Moreover, this person possesses a soul completely different from Dumbledore's—

[Soul Strength: 51.5]

Just like myself now.

The previous theory of a "fake Grim Reaper" was suddenly overturned.

"Are you really going to do this in Dumbledore's likeness?" Cohen asked, frowning as he watched the nonchalant "Dumbledore" put his buckled boots on the table.

It's so weird—it's like watching Voldemort and Dumbledore kissing.

In short, whoever this guy in front of him was, Cohen felt that he was definitely far removed from humanity.

“Oh, you don’t like it? Then I’ll get another one.” Dumbledore said, raising an eyebrow.

The next second, he transformed into Edward, dressed in a black suit.

"Doesn't this look much better to you?" Edward grinned. "You love your dad the most, don't you?"

“You know I can pull you in from this distance, right?” Cohen said expressionlessly.

“You wouldn’t do that, how could you lay a hand on your father?” Edward said. “This is a dream, you cute little Dementor. Besides, even if you ate me, it wouldn’t matter—Little Cohen, I just crawled out of your stomach…”

"So I'm talking to a pile of shit that's about to turn into shit?" Cohen said. "Then you should be very proud, because not much shit can talk—don't you have any other form you can transform into? Why do you have to become a middle-aged, decadent wizard?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, talking to you is still just as fun. Your father is quite the handsome fellow, otherwise how could he have seduced such a beautiful wife?" [Edward] said with an exaggerated, pitying expression, shaking his leg that was propped up on top of his head. "It's just that people inevitably get a belly when they reach middle age... and then there are some family problems, of course, the main source of these family problems is his son—"

“My family doesn’t need your opinion,” Cohen said coldly. “You’re risking making an enemy of me just to argue about this?”

"More or less." Edward pulled a book from beside the table, flipping through it as he spoke.

"But my real intention was to be your friend—look, I've even carefully planned the location and the way we'd meet... Tsk tsk tsk, this book is really interesting. Are wizards always this arrogant? They can so easily be so sure that everything a Muggle sees is an illusion?"

“This isn’t the process of becoming friends,” Cohen said. “Giving a friend a gift when you first meet them won’t be a nightmare either.”

“I thought you would really enjoy this heart-piercing pain,” Edward said, feigning innocence.

“Lying,” Cohen said.

“It’s heartbreaking. Why don’t you say that to your father?” Edward said sadly. “I’ve watched you grow up. Even if you don’t want to call me Dad, you should at least show some respect… Anyone knows how embarrassing it is when a lie is exposed.”

“I will not respond to any of your requests,” Cohen said. “Your defense has no name or face.”

"Who said I don't have a name?" Edward flipped through the book in his hands as if slapping someone. "Ah—this name is fine—Lucifer, my name is Lucifer—"

“Naive,” Cohen said.

“You hurt people like an angel’s blade,” Lucifer said sadly, but his eyes kept glancing at the book in his hands, as if he were peeking at a script. “I used to… um, wait, let me take another look—ah, I found it, I was that kind of angel, I liked to criticize my father’s creations, and then my father broke both my legs—”

"It's wings. And stop smearing religion. Religion is already bad enough." Cohen closed his eyes, somewhat speechless.

This guy seems to be completely absorbed in his art and can't pull himself out.

Nobody ever said that the evil god was a chatterbox!
Edward has always been right; we shouldn't have talked to it.

“An actor must have the conviction to be an actor.” Lucifer, with Edward’s face on his head, said with a very firm look in his eyes.

"Keep acting, I'm going back to reading." Cohen buried himself back in his books.

The best way to deal with a chatterbox is to ignore them. That will make them get angry and start...

"Those people from the Ministry of Magic were bullying you before, remember their faces? Why don't you go and kill them all?"

"..."

“I know you may have listened to the slander of some ignorant middle-aged man, thinking I’m some unforgivable devil who wants to possess your body…” Lucifer moved a chair and sat down next to Cohen, whispering, “But as you can see, I’ve always been gentle with you—see, I’ve never hurt you, nor have I asked you to pay anything, as Death demanded…”

"..."

“I want you to have—everything you deserve,” Lucifer persisted. “You’ve received too little, and so many unreasonable people want to control you: Voldemort, Dumbledore, your parents… Are they truly sincere towards you? I don’t think so. They just want to use you. Voldemort wants you to help him rule the world; Dumbledore dislikes you even more. He hates Dementors the most, and he just wants you to kill Voldemort for Harry; as for your parents, they know their child is dead. They just see you as a substitute for their child. Maybe one day they’ll discover you’re actually a blood-stained dark wizard, and then they’ll kick you out of the house…”

……

"You could have killed hundreds of people first and become the most powerful creature in this weak world—why not do it? Why waste your precious talent? Why spend your whole life being used as a 'weapon'? You deserve better..."

(End of this chapter)