"Want to go check on Hagrid?" Harry asked, glancing out at the bright, sunny weather.
He'd been cooped up in the hospital wing for two days, unsure if Madam Pomfrey would let him out. She'd been running all sorts of tests to make sure he hadn't been hit with any dark magic.
"Let's ask Madam Pomfrey," Cohen said. "I'd rather not get hunted down by Sirius for smuggling you out."
"Hope she says yes," Harry grinned. "Otherwise, I might have to resort to… other methods."
His eyes flicked toward the spot under his bed where his Invisibility Cloak was hidden.
…
"No way, not this morning," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "There are still three nasty curse detection tests to run, and they need to be spaced twelve hours apart from the last ones! The Dark Lord might've slipped some subtle curses on you, and I need to find and neutralize them without setting anything off. You've got to take your health seriously!"
"I feel like if he had time to curse me, he'd have just thrown the Killing Curse instead," Harry tried to argue.
"Exactly," Cohen chimed in, backing him up.
But Madam Pomfrey wouldn't budge, insisting Harry stay until the tests were done before he could go for a walk.
By the time Harry had downed several potions and been charmed to regurgitate them for analysis—to check if any curses had altered their properties—it was already noon.
"She's making this way too serious," Harry said, gripping the stair railing, looking drained. "My stomach… no, I feel like I don't even have a stomach anymore."
They left the castle, crossing the grounds.
Cohen noticed the Quidditch pitch was back to normal, as if the maze from the third task had never existed.
Edward and the others had left with Sirius the previous afternoon, and now the grounds were dotted with students out for a stroll.
Cohen spotted Cedric walking with Cho Chang.
Harry, catching sight of them, looked a bit uncomfortable and quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere.
"Harry! Cohen!" Hagrid's voice boomed as he poked his head out from behind his half-open door, ushering them inside with enthusiasm.
Fang, the boarhound, was unusually shut outside, but the reason soon became clear.
Hagrid was sitting on his bed, tending to a tiny baby Thestral. The sheets were stained with dark, sticky patches, likely from some herbal remedy. The little creature was trembling, its wings and legs slightly asymmetrical.
"Only a few days old," Hagrid said, draping a small blanket over it with a pained expression. "Got banged up on a rock the night it was born. Normally, the herd would abandon it, but when it cried out to me, I couldn't just leave it… There, there, little one, the medicine's all set."
Hagrid mimicked a mother Thestral, gently stroking its back with his fingers.
"I heard from Sirius you were recovering in the hospital wing, so I didn't want to bother you," Hagrid said to Harry. "Just asked Cohen a few things… Hang on, let me wash my hands, then I'll whip up some rock cakes—"
Hagrid stood, brushing his hands on his clothes, leaving streaks of the herbal mixture behind.
"Oooh—" The baby Thestral shuffled toward Cohen as he sat on the bed's edge, letting out a high-pitched squeak.
"I'm starting to think Hagrid wasn't totally off when he saw Arlie and thought, 'This is a unicorn-Thestral hybrid,'" Cohen said, patting the creature through the blanket. It curled up quietly.
"They're kinda cute when they're young," Harry said. "Not so creepy as when they grow up…"
"Wait till it opens its eyes," Cohen raised an eyebrow. "Those white pupils? Not exactly 'cute' in human terms."
Hagrid returned from the kitchen with a mountain of rock cakes and, to make them easier to chew, two large mugs of tea.
"How're you two holding up?" Hagrid asked.
"I'm fine. Thanks, and you?" Cohen replied, almost on autopilot.
"I'm… okay," Harry said, touching his scar as it throbbed briefly, as if Voldemort was scheming something big again.
"No, you're not okay," Hagrid said, fixing Harry with a look. "You're definitely not, but you will be."
Harry stared at the floor, silent.
"Cohen and Dumbledore filled me in," Hagrid said, wrapping a massive arm around Harry. "I knew he'd come back, Harry. Remember what I told you before? This was bound to happen. Now it has, we face it head-on and fight. We'll stop him from gaining power. We'll beat him."
Harry didn't look convinced.
"Sitting around worrying won't help," Hagrid said, clapping Harry's back. "What's coming will come, and when it does, we deal with it."
"Exactly," Cohen added, trying to lift Harry's spirits. "I'll help you sneak up and stab him in the side."
"And you, Cohen," Hagrid said sternly.
"What about me?" Cohen asked, confused.
"Dumbledore says the Dark Lord's got his eye on you," Hagrid warned. "You need to be extra careful. He might try to kidnap you or worse. Stay sharp."
"I'm always sharp," Cohen said.
No need for Voldemort to kidnap him—Cohen was already planning to take back his flesh puppet himself.
"What's that, Hagrid?" Harry suddenly noticed a violet-colored object peeking out from under Hagrid's pillow, like the corner of a card.
"Oh… that's a pass from Olympe," Hagrid said, quickly tucking it further under the pillow.
Olympe was Madame Maxime's first name.
"What kind of pass?" Cohen asked. "To Beauxbatons?"
"Something like that," Hagrid said, his face turning red. "Dumbledore's sending me with her to France, but it's hush-hush. Can't tell you what it's about—Dumbledore said not to tell anyone. What're your summer plans?"
"No clue," Harry sighed. "Probably a month at the Dursleys', then a month with Sirius. At least there's something to look forward to."
"I'm headed to Greece," Cohen said. "You're off to France to charm the ladies, I'm stuck doing dirty work in Greece. Bright futures all around, huh?"
"Dirty work?" Hagrid asked, curious. "Shouldn't you be off traveling with your parents?"
"Rose is too busy, Edward's too lazy, and Dumbledore's roped some other old guy into going with me," Cohen said. "It's about magical creatures. Remember that griffin? It came here looking for the old sea serpent because of this."