Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 564 has already severed ties with the Burke family.
At dinner, Harry and the others were overjoyed to learn that Cohen had broken free from the mysterious force.

"Did the book I recommended work?" Hermione asked excitedly. "Which spell?"

“Ah, it’s an ancient magic spell, I had the goat recite it—” Cohen made up, “It worked, it worked.”

Hermione was initially relieved, but immediately realized something was wrong.

"But I don't think I recommended anything—"

"Come on, Hermione, there's really no need to understand everything like solving a math problem," Ron said, biting into a chicken leg. "Sometimes knowing too much isn't a good thing."

"Oh, then tell me, when is it not a good thing to know too much?" Hermione asked Ron bluntly.

“For example, pressing Cohen about what exactly happened to him,” Cohen said, taking a big gulp of onion soup. “This can lead to anxiety, insomnia, nightmares, and a drop in grades.”

"Really?" Hermione asked seriously as soon as she heard that her grades had dropped.

“Really,” Cohen said. “I can bet the Dementors’ food on it.”

“Dumbledore’s class is at eight o’clock tonight.” Harry pulled out the crumpled letter again. Ever since he learned that class was on Wednesdays, Harry would often take out the letter to check the time to make sure he remembered it correctly. “Whose memories do you think Dumbledore will show us this time?”

“It’s definitely not mine anyway,” Cohen said. “All my memories have been shown. The only ones I haven’t seen yet are my embarrassing history of stealing lollipops from kids on Privet Road and helping old ladies cross the street.”

"Isn't helping an old lady cross the street a good thing?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "Why is it considered a dark history?"

“He took that grandma to another street that was way away,” Harry said, covering his mouth with a laugh. “Just because that grandma kicked Cohen’s cat.”

“Then the cat died,” Cohen said. “I initially thought it was because of that kick, but later I found out that the cat had apparently sneaked out to eat one night and choked to death on a fish bone.”

After dinner, Cohen and Harry waited until they arrived at Dumbledore's office.

There was no response to the first few knocks, until the sixth knock, when a soft sound came from inside, followed by:

"come in."

Cohen and Harry pushed open the door and went in. Dumbledore had just returned to the school, and his cloak was still damp, as if he had just come out of the rain.

However, Dumbledore simply waved his wand, and steam rose from his cloak, instantly drying it.

He pulled the cloak off the back of the chair, revealing a crimson robe underneath.

"It's been a busy night, please forgive me, the journey back from Wales has taken quite a while," Dumbledore said.

"Professor, what are you going to Wales for?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

“Let’s participate in a Ministry of Magic capture operation,” Dumbledore said. “Maybe we can catch Voldemort—but he’s actually more cautious than we think. Only the Death Eaters are around, while he’s practically vanished and never shows himself.”

“But our ‘viewing’ must continue.” Dumbledore clapped his hands and brought out the Pensieve from the cabinet.

Then, he took out a glass bottle containing silver memories and poured the memories into the basin. "Last time we talked about Voldemort's parents and grandparents. His mother, Merope, stopped giving old Tom Riddle the love potion, which caused old Tom to leave in anger and return to Little Hangleton."

"But Melop didn't come back with you?" Harry asked. "Otherwise, Gaunt wouldn't have starved to death..."

“He’ll still starve to death. I bet he’ll strangle his unfilial daughter Melop who’s been messing around with Muggles first, and then starve himself to death,” Cohen said. “He’s a one-dimensional idiot.”

“You’re all right,” Dumbledore said. “Gaunt starved to death at home, and Melop didn’t come back; she stayed in London…”

The memories in the basin were spinning, and then a picture emerged—it was a small shop, and an old man was leaning against an armchair, his skin pale and his hair thick, almost covering his eyes.

But if you look closely, you'll find that the old man's nose is almost exactly the same as Cohen's.

“This is Caraccacchus Burke,” Dumbledore said. “Quite coincidentally, he helped start a shop that you may have heard of.”

“Bogin Burke!” Harry exclaimed in surprise.

“He was also Cohen’s great-grandfather,” Dumbledore said, “because he was the grandfather of Herbert Burke and Rose Burke.”

“It was very family-like. He didn’t like Rose and Herbert, and Rose and Herbert didn’t like him either,” Cohen said. “It was the one who said he was going to throw my mother into a pile of Infernals to feed the Infernals.”

“How could this be—” Harry said with a look of disgust.

“It’s common for these incestuous families to produce paranoid eccentrics and lunatics,” Cohen said. “I’ve almost gotten used to seeing them.”

The old man in the Pensieve spoke.

"Yes, we obtained it under very special circumstances. A young witch brought it to us before Christmas, many years ago..."

Karaktakus said,
"...She said she desperately needed money. Yes, it was so obvious. She was ragged, skinny as a stick, and pregnant. She said the locket used to belong to Slytherin. We hear this nonsense all the time: 'Oh, this is Merlin's, really, his favorite teapot'—"

Cohen chuckled softly.

He could actually pull out the teapot Merlin had used, and all the decorations in that safe house were Merlin's things.

Antiques are the most expensive items.

"...But upon closer inspection, I found the Slytherin mark on the locket. I recited a few simple spells and discovered the truth. That thing was priceless, but that woman had no idea how valuable it was. Young people just don't understand anything and act recklessly, just like my shameless granddaughter..."

Old Bock said,

"I only spent ten Galleons to buy it. If I could, I'd actually be happy to add a meal on top; she'd be incredibly grateful..."

"So he still thinks he's a great philanthropist?" Harry said, then suddenly realized he was criticizing Cohen's great-grandfather and immediately looked at Cohen apologetically.

“It’s alright, I’ve cut ties with the Burke family,” Cohen said, raising his hands. “By the time I found out I was born into this family, it was already too late…”

(End of this chapter)