Chapter 92 The Knight Bus
The ruins of Lestrange Manor weren't far from Malfoy Manor, and since most of the buildings had been destroyed by a curse, Lucius directly Apparated Cohen there.
Under the sunlight, "Lestrange Manor" looked dilapidated, reduced to ruins—a scene vaguely familiar; Cohen had seen a similar scene at Burke Manor.
However, there were no large-scale traces of dark magic remaining, which was precisely why all the valuables in Lestrange Manor had been looted.
Gringotts' existence was still quite necessary, preventing people from returning from jail with nothing—wizard laws were somewhat ineffective, because apart from pure wizarding villages, other wizards lived far apart, making them impossible to monitor, which led to more robberies and thefts.
"Can you see where…the fireplace?" Lucius looked at the ruins with a skeptical expression. "Everything that could be moved has probably been moved."
He figured everything here must have been emptied out—he had taken some things himself years ago, but resold them to Borgin & Burkes after getting his hands on the loot.
"That shouldn't include wands." Cohen narrowed his eyes.
He could see the wand's emotions and "soul"—just like what he'd seen at Ollivander's Wand Shop, a soul without any real power, smelling delicious, but somehow inedible now.
"Found it." Cohen walked straight across the ruins toward the wand's location.
This area was clearly hidden by magic; even a person could teleport there.
"Show your true form." Cohen tapped the location where the wand was hidden with his wand.
The spell had a slight effect; a vague outline of a fireplace appeared for a second or two, then disappeared.
Cohen tried again—this time he touched it, and it had a physical form. A
physical form made things easier.
"Reveal the Form," Cohen used the spell for the third time.
"Try the Explosion Charm—" Lucius was about to suggest.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light struck the vaguely visible fireplace, instantly sending earth and stones flying. The protective magic on it vanished, leaving a gaping hole.
Lucius gasped, unconsciously trying to retreat away from Cohen—Cohen's ability to use the Killing Curse didn't surprise Lucius, because it would have been surprising if the creation of that experiment was like an ordinary little wizard.
But shouldn't the Killing Curse be used with an extremely strong killing intent towards the target?
Why did Cohen have such a strong killing intent towards a rock?
Was his heart filled with destruction and annihilation?
"This is more efficient, the Explosion Charm," Cohen explained, but then turned around and saw Lucius looking like he was about to run away. "I won't use it on you, don't be afraid, I'm a good guy."
Lucius silently walked back, not because of Cohen's highly unreliable "I'm a good guy," but because of Cohen's expression that looked like he'd give him an Avada Kedavra if he dared to run away.
Cohen easily retrieved the box containing the two wands from behind the broken fireplace.
"Got it, now it's your turn." Cohen tossed the box to Lucius. "Go to Gringotts and retrieve the Hufflepuff Cup. Watch out for the Fire Charm and Copy Charm on the treasures inside."
"Most of our vaults use these spells—I'll be careful…"
Lucius wiped his sweat and agreed.
—Since
Gringotts wasn't under the Ministry of Magic, Lucius's money-retrieval trip went relatively smoothly.
Cohen was taken back to Malfoy Manor, where Dobby, trembling, served him a plate of tea and juice. His head was bandaged, as if he had punished himself for something—Cohen assumed it was punishment for tipping off Harry Potter the previous night.
But Cohen wasn't worried—having learned his lesson from his first year, Harry wouldn't suspect anything even if Cohen mingled with dark wizards.
Moreover, Cohen had become increasingly adept at lying, sometimes even fooling himself—for example, when he cursed Voldemort in front of Lucius, Cohen genuinely felt disappointed in Voldemort.
After a leisurely afternoon tea, Lucius returned with the Hufflepuff Cup.
[Soul Strength: 25]
Compared to the diary Lucius had given him yesterday, which only had 10 points of soul strength, the cup was much better.
"What about the Dark Lord…" Lucius said anxiously after seeing Cohen put the cup into a pocket emanating a cold, sinister aura.
"I'll talk to him," Cohen promised.
Lucius was still too naive; he had actually believed a Dementor's lies.
After leaving Malfoy Manor, Cohen didn't plan to go home yet.
The trip was supposed to be seven days, and going back early would be a waste—Cohen planned to wander around, and with Galleons in his pocket, all he needed was…
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus—an emergency transport for wizards in distress. Just extend your wand-holding hand, board, and we'll take you wherever you want to go. My name is Tucker von Braun, and I'm today's ticket collector…"
A bright purple three-story bus seemed to appear out of nowhere as it pulled up in front of Cohen. The person giving the introduction in a weary tone wasn't Stan Shunpike from the original story, but another older wizard who looked exhausted.
"Are you lost?" asked the ticket collector, Tucker, because Cohen looked only eleven or twelve years old.
"No, I'm traveling—but Muggle transport is too slow, and I don't have any Muggle money,"
Cohen replied.
This was true; Rose's allowance for Cohen had all been converted into silver sickles and Galleons, and Cohen now only had seven pounds of Muggle money on him.
"Looks like a young nobleman," Tucker joked wearily, his eyelids drooping—making him look like a world-weary old man. "What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy," Cohen replied, choosing a name. The Malfoys certainly wouldn't take this kind of bus, so there was no need to worry about being recognized. "How do I get to the ruins of Burke Manor?"
"It's a bit far… um…" Tucker's head seemed to be completely muddled from years of riding this bus. "One galleon and… uh—plus three sickles, and if you want some chocolate, add three more sickles."
"Okay, add a piece of chocolate." Cohen paid one galleon and six sickles.
"You can sit on this bed." Tucker shoved the ticket into Cohen's hand and led him to a four-poster brass-framed bed—there were no seats, just six or seven movable beds on each tier.
"Ern—Burke Manor…" Tucker mumbled to the driver.
"It's Burke Manor," Cohen reminded him, his voice strained.
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(End of Chapter)