Your comments, reviews, and votes really help me out so much and they make me super motivated to keep working on this story! Thank you! Pat**on : ilham20
"Still too much bureaucracy," Cohen nodded. "I guess we'll have to train the Dementors to be more intelligent creatures, then put them in charge of all the government jobs. That way, there won't be any foul customs like bribery."
"Ha! I knew you didn't have any good intentions in wanting your dad to be Minister," the Earl scoffed. "Dementors can't even write reports—no, they can't even hold a meeting! I don't believe you, as the only one who can understand them, would be willing to work with them every day."
"I'm a very noble person, thank you very much," Cohen said.
"The tone of your voice says otherwise," the Earl replied. "You evil Dementor brat, even if Dementors were officials, someone would definitely try to bribe them with happiness—if humans could talk to them, that is."
"That's not far off, and the Dementors no longer have to worry about food," Cohen said.
**[Good Path (5/7)]**
**[5. Prevent Voldemort from obtaining the prophecy orb about "The Dark Lord's Demise and Rebirth"]**
**[Reward: 5000 Goodwill points, Blueprint for Dementor Mind-Sync Device]**
As long as he completed this task from the system, the biggest obstacle to Dementors holding office would be gone.
"?" The Earl looked at Cohen in horror, assuming he was talking about turning people into Dementor food.
"What strange things are you thinking about?" Cohen said. "I'm talking about this."
Cohen showed the brain to the Earl.
"Did you create one of those brain-sucking monsters from your dad's sandbox?" the Earl said strangely.
"Nah, this one doesn't have claws, but it's similar. It 'eats' people's thoughts, too," Cohen said. "Remember that secret weapon the Ministry was developing to fight Dementors?"
"That thing?" The Earl tilted his head, looking at the brain swimming around in the tank, and moved a little closer. "It doesn't look like it has as much power as I do."
**Thump!**
"Squeak!" The Earl was startled when the brain suddenly bumped against the tank wall.
"You've hurt its feelings," Cohen reminded him.
"Blast it, can't you get some gentle pets?" the Earl huffed.
"Isn't Sissoko gentle enough?" Cohen said. "And Mick, and the old Basilisk, oh, and Norbert. The old water serpent is fine, too, and a Hippogriff isn't exactly wild... So, I guess besides Allie and the little Basilisk, they're all pretty gentle. The only thing about Allie that isn't gentle is her foul mouth."
"You—oh, I..." The Earl sighed. "How did I end up getting bought by you?"
---
The next day, Edward's letter arrived. The first line read, "What? You got a brain? Does it have legs? Can you send me a picture?" Only then did he get to the part about agreeing not to kill the remaining brain creatures—though he hadn't planned to continue that mission anyway. Being suddenly named a candidate for Minister for Magic had left Edward completely bewildered. It was like he'd been lying around for thirty years and was suddenly told to run a marathon.
"I can't believe what the future of the wizarding world is going to look like," the Earl lamented. "Good thing owls don't have presidents."
"The whole world is one big flimsy stage; it's all the same. So, do you want to be the owl president?" Cohen asked casually.
"Me? I'd open an owl brothel," the Earl said dreamily. "And then..."
"That's all you've got!" Cohen said, grabbing the Earl's head. "You need to organize a protest for 'Owl Rights,' and anyone who doesn't like owls, you use all sorts of tricks to bully, insult, and oppress them. First, you win over a group of people loyal to the 'Owl Cult,' forming an extremist group. Then you use things like 'Love Your Owl' custom services, owl movies, owl merchandise, and 'magical potions that can turn you into an owl' to make a fortune off the fools in those extremist groups..."
"You know what you're talking about, right?" The Earl looked at Cohen.
"Mmhmm," Cohen hummed. "No one would ever dislike a talking owl."
Fighting for owl rights wasn't something Cohen needed to consider right now, but it was a great idea, and the Earl, as the only talking owl, was the perfect gimmick.
But Cohen had to focus on something more important, like the attack on the Ministry of Magic in a week's time.
Voldemort had already begun his preparations. For the rest of the week, Harry had nightmares every night.
On January 20th, in the morning.
"Harry, your dark circles are so bad," Hermione said with concern. "Hasn't Snape taught you anything?"
"Twice," Harry said with a yawn. "But he hasn't taught me a thing—he just wants to snoop in my private memories, I can tell..."
"That's how Occlumency works; you build resistance through practice," Cohen said.
"But you can't go on like this; you'll go mad," Hermione said. "We have to tell Professor Dumbledore—"
"He's already given me a solution," Harry said, a bit irritable from lack of sleep. "There's nothing to be done if Snape won't teach me—all he does is mock me and insult my dad..."
"Even if we told him, it wouldn't do any good. Dumbledore's not at school today, either," Cohen said.
"Have your dreams been the same these last few days?" Ron asked. "About the Department of Mysteries?"
"Yeah, the room is full of shelves lined with glass orbs, and no one's there—I don't know why Voldemort wants to go there so badly," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. His scar was hurting again, and it was so early in the morning.
Cohen was quite impressed with Voldemort's dedication. If he weren't in school, he certainly wouldn't be willing to wake up so early just to burrow into a student's head and transmit weird visions.
"There's a lot of stuff in the Department of Mysteries, and even those brain creatures that can fight Dementors," Cohen said. "Maybe he wants some kind of weapon to use against you—or maybe against Dumbledore."
"Don't be silly. If there were a weapon like that, the Ministry wouldn't have kept Dumbledore on as headmaster, would they?" Hermione said logically. "When they wanted Dumbledore to resign most, they didn't choose to attack him directly. At that time, the whole of wizarding Britain was turning on him. It was the perfect opportunity to bring him down, but they didn't. Instead, they sent a High Inquisitor to find problems with Dumbledore, which says a lot."
But Harry didn't seem to want to believe Hermione, as if his own mind was arguing against her points.
"I'm going to class. I hope I don't fall asleep today..." Harry said wearily.
Harry's hope was in vain. As soon as he got into History of Magic class, he put his head down on the desk and fell asleep.
Just before class ended, Harry woke up with a start, covered in a cold sweat.
"Mr. Perkins, what is it?" Professor Binns was startled by Harry's movements.
"N-nothing, Professor..." Harry quickly recoiled, looking like he'd merged with his desk.
"Homework, write an essay on the Goblin Wars..." Professor Binns's slow voice blended with the sound of the bell.
"Harry, maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked.
"No, she can't do anything..." Harry said, rubbing his temples. "I know..."
"I really want to help you," Cohen said. "But I can't. I can't turn you into a Dementor—if you were a Dementor, no one could invade your mind."
"This isn't an invasion," Harry said with certainty. "I don't think he knows about this connection—because I saw him in the bath."
"?"
"?"
"?"
Even Cohen was caught off guard this time.
The bath?
In the morning?
Blast it, who turned Voldemort into this?!