"Should we go check on Harry after lunch?" Hermione asked. "Last night must've been terrifying for him..."
"You two go ahead," Cohen replied. "I've got a few things to take care of..."
The truth was, the system had already handed out its rewards the night before.
Five thousand Sin Points, five thousand Virtue Points, and—most importantly—the final two Animagus forms.
Now Cohen could transform into a Nightmare and a human. Though to be honest, they didn't seem particularly useful.
Well, maybe turning into a regular human would temporarily erase the liquid curses in his body? That could be nice.
Back in the dorm, Cohen climbed into his suitcase—with Earl hot on his heels, eager to snoop.
"What happened last night? What happened?" Earl bombarded him, buzzing with curiosity.
"Voldemort's back," Cohen said simply.
"That is scary, but it's like… I already saw this happen last year," Earl said, smacking his lips. "So what now? More terrorist attacks and Pureblood propaganda? You're gonna deal with him, right?"
"Doesn't matter—I'll handle it," Cohen replied casually.
"After Edward becomes Minister for Magic, though."
"Well, then this world is doomed…" Earl sighed dramatically.
Not too far away, Old Watersnake had just been drafted into a new game by the little serpent kid—who was very into playing "castle defense." The "evil sheep" was trying to storm the gates, and it was up to our brave little snake to stop it.
How evil was the sheep? That depended entirely on how terrifying Xisoko looked standing by the sheep pen.
The poor thing had been "motivated" to charge the gates with pure fear.
> "Oi! That sheep just rammed my weak spot—my back! I'm dying—urgh—bleh—"
> Old Watersnake collapsed, sticking out his tongue and playing dead like a true method actor.
The scene continued with the heroic little snake defeating the evil sheep. Meanwhile, Old Watersnake quietly slithered offstage.
> "Grandbaby, your little snake is exhausting..." he hissed, spotting Cohen's return. "Dragged me out to play with her first thing in the morning!"
> "You didn't look that unwilling," Cohen raised a brow. "Even if you were so excited about playing house that you started humming, I wouldn't think you were childish."
> "R-Really? I wasn't—I mean, I didn't—" Old Watersnake blushed and wriggled awkwardly.
> "Anyway, I came to talk about the trip to Greece," Cohen continued. "The semester's almost over, so we'll go during summer break. But we'll be traveling with an old human guy—try not to be too rude to him..."
> "When have I ever been rude?" Watersnake lifted his head proudly.
> "Fine, then don't steal his fish," Cohen added. He wasn't sure if Newt would reclaim his suitcase from Rolf, but still—it was worth warning them. "He has his own case. He might invite you inside—but you're not allowed to go."
> "There's fish in it?" Watersnake's eyes sparkled.
> "Absolutely not!" Cohen groaned, covering his face. "Going in there would be a disaster."
> "Fine, fine…" Watersnake muttered vaguely.
Cohen had a feeling the snake wasn't taking this seriously.
Hopefully, Newt had his own anti-Watersnake protocol: "Protect the case. Guard the fish. Watch for long, slippery intruders."
> "Grandpa Watersnake! Come back! We have another scene!" the little serpent called out when she noticed his sneaky escape, dragging him back through the mud toward the castle.
"Raising kids is terrifying," Cohen sighed, watching Old Watersnake leave a muddy trail as he was hauled off—Xisoko and Old Snake trailing along behind him.
"Raising kids is terrifying," Earl echoed, landing on Cohen's head, clearly reliving traumatic parenting memories.
Looking at how busy Xisoko was now, Cohen figured there wasn't much point in finding her a snake-spouse anymore. Just raising a kid was enough to exhaust her.
Saved himself 10,000 Virtue Points.
> Ding! Sin Points +1
> Note: No specific reason. We just felt like judging your morals.
"..."
---
The rest of the semester passed quietly. Cohen and Harry didn't really have anything left to do—since they didn't take the exams, they didn't even have grades to wait for.
Three days after the final task, Mr. Crouch arrived to deliver the Triwizard Tournament prize money. Cohen and Harry got half each.
"Why couldn't it have been a thousand each?" Cohen asked with regret.
"Because the Ministry isn't a mint," said Crouch.
"That was a joke, right?" Cohen twitched.
Only Old Crouch could deliver a dry, deadpan British joke with such grim sincerity. Since his son's death, he'd changed quite a bit—once upon a time, he would've never told a joke, dry or not.
Crouch barely stayed long enough to drop off the money. He said very little, and left in a rush. But Harry seemed to know something. Once Crouch was gone, he pulled Cohen into a corner.
"The Minister doesn't want to admit that Voldemort is back, but Mr. Crouch doesn't agree with him," Harry whispered. "Last night, I overheard Dumbledore and Fudge arguing—nearly shouting—"
"That explains why he looked so uncomfortable," Cohen raised an eyebrow. "Trying to boost his people skills for a future campaign or something…"
"Fudge looked like he'd lost his mind," Harry said worriedly. "He was accusing Dumbledore of protecting me, calling me a 'delusional brat,' and then he—"
Harry paused.
"What did he say Dumbledore 'allowed'?" Cohen asked.
"He said Dumbledore allowed you to attend Hogwarts. But Cohen, I swear, I think everything Fudge says is total nonsense…" Harry said cautiously. "He even said you killed over three hundred people when you were one year old—and that you're secretly rallying Dementors into rebellion… He's obsessed with making up ridiculous accusations."
"Typical politician," Cohen sighed. "I never rallied the Dementors."
...But that three-hundred-people thing? Yeah, that one was true. Not that Harry needed to know.
"Have you heard anything about the Dementor rebellion?" Harry asked. "Since you can talk to them and all…"
"Last time I saw them was back in third year—except for the one in the maze," Cohen said. "No clue what's going on. Probably just fed up with bad Ministry benefits and looking to switch employers."
"They're not going to join Voldemort, are they…?" Harry asked nervously.
"Won't they?" Cohen arched a brow.
"They will!?" Harry looked horrified. The thought of Dementors flooding the streets clearly didn't sit well with him.
"I'll go talk to them when the time's right," Cohen said. "But definitely not now. Otherwise I'll really become the 'Dementor-rallying criminal' Fudge keeps ranting about."