After their meal, the first-year wizards began to find various topics to talk about.
When the topic turned to their families, everyone seemed to have countless things to say.
Seamus told how his Muggle father was horrified by his wizard mother's revelation of her identity. Cohen felt that Edward was much the same. After all, his duties were just cooking, shopping, and playing Dungeons & Dragons, not much different from a Muggle.
The only difference between him and a Muggle was that he had to secretly use magic to change the number of a big failure (1) in board games. Cohen suddenly seemed to understand why Edward always won at flying chess with him.
"What about you, Cohen?" Seamus asked curiously.
"Me?" Cohen raised an eyebrow. "My parents didn't tell me they were wizards until my birthday. I was adopted, and they originally thought I was a Muggle."
Cohen felt that Edward and Rose must have known their identity. Dumbledore had said it was their choice. Raising a monster brought from a Dark Arts laboratory must have taken tremendous courage.
Cohen cherished this family bond and didn't want it to be destroyed by someone or something.
Now that he was at Hogwarts, his original plan had to be put on hold.
Cohen's gaze passed over the House table and fell on the teachers' seats.
Quirrell, with a purple scarf tied around his head, was easily distinguishable. He was currently conversing with Snape beside him, his head tilted towards the students.
Snape's gaze wasn't focused on Quirrell at all, but on Harry, who was standing next to Cohen.
[Soul Strength: 9 (Incomplete)/25]
[Soul Strength: 40+8]
Quirrell's original Soul Strength was a full 25 points. It seemed that Voldemort, clinging to the back of his head, had absorbed a significant portion of it, halving it and adding it to Voldemort's own Soul Strength.
So... Voldemort's Soul fragments and the fragmented original soul both maintained a very stable value of 40.
What was the principle behind this? How high did Voldemort's original Soul Strength have to be for the fragments to have a full 40 points?
Or... was it that the souls split by the Horcruxes weren't calculated by simple addition and subtraction?
This wasn't bad news for Cohen, however. Voldemort couldn't reassemble his soul, so to him, he would always be just one or eight elite monsters with a 40-point soul strength.
So... let's start the sin point earning plan tomorrow!
After eating and drinking their fill and enjoying dessert, Dumbledore gave the freshmen a number of important school rules to note.
"First-year students, please note that the wooded area on the school grounds is off-limits to all students. Some of our old classmates should also take note of this."
Dumbledore's sparkling eyes cast a special glance towards the Weasley brothers.
"Also, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, asked me to remind everyone not to perform magic in the corridors during class breaks."
"The review of the Quidditch players will take place in the second week of this term..." "
Finally, I must tell everyone that anyone who doesn't want to suffer an accident or a painful death should not enter the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor corridor."
Harry laughed, but only a few people laughed, prompting him to ask Cohen, as if seeking his opinion:
"He's not serious, is he?"
"You know, if you want people to go somewhere, you have to mark it as off-limits..." Cohen whispered to Harry.
Of course, Cohen knew what was hidden in the fourth floor corridor—
the Philosopher's Stone, the legendary alchemical artifact that could turn everything into gold and grant immortality.
To be frank, Cohen wanted it.
Money wasn't the most important thing.
And he didn't really need immortality—because Cohen seriously doubted that he would die of old age.
No one had ever heard of Dementors being divided into old and young. After a brief experiment, Cohen discovered that even without a body, his soul could float out of his body and find another—but this behavior was a bit too dark.
Cohen always insisted that he was a positive and good monster—no matter what world, good people always have a more comfortable life in the early stages.
But Cohen desperately needed to know if the Philosopher's Stone could repair the soul.
After all, the human soul ages, just as the young wizard's soul continues to grow.
Immortality requires overcoming not only the demise of the body, but also the disintegration of the soul.
If the Philosopher's Stone could truly mend Cohen's soul, then he would have snatched up far fewer lollipops, and the Hogwarts children would have given him many favorable comments.
After Dumbledore finished explaining the school rules and led the students in a scattered rendition of the school song, it was finally time to return to the dormitories.
Percy led the Gryffindor freshmen through a series of moving staircases and hidden doors behind curtains, finally arriving at the entrance to the common room.
Hanging there was a portrait of a plump woman in a pink dress.
"Password?"
the Fat Lady asked.
"Dragon slag," Percy said.
The Fat Lady's painting slowly opened like a door, revealing a circular opening.
Cohen suspected that Gryffindor only accepted brave students because they loved to run around and therefore weren't too fat—otherwise, they wouldn't be able to return to their dormitories and would have been forced to sleep on the floor outside.
The Gryffindor common room was a comfortable, circular room filled with plush armchairs and a roaring fire crackling in the fireplace.
This setting was perfect for afternoon tea on a class-free afternoon—especially in winter.
But now, Cohen couldn't care less. He was sleepy, physically, his eyelids drooping. All
he wanted now was to curl up in bed and sleep until the end of the world.
"Harry Potter and the Sleeping Dementors" (End)
Harry, Cohen, Ron, and Seamus were assigned to the same dormitory. Their luggage had been brought in, including the screech owl, which was gnawing at its cage with excitement.
"Let me out! The nightlife is about to begin! Quick, quick, quick!"
the Earl urged hurriedly upon seeing Cohen.
"And that Harry Potter, your owl told me she wants to see the Scottish Highlands today—"
"Did he fall in love with Hedwig at first sight?" Ron asked Cohen.
"It wasn't love at first sight, he's a slut,"
Cohen commented.
"No! Did you hear that?! The owl spoke!" Seamus screamed, covering his mouth.
"Hmm." Cohen opened the Earl's cage and, with a chuckle, dove into bed.
"Hmm." Harry was also feeling sleepy, but he still opened Hedwig's cage as the Earl requested and slid into bed.
"Hmm." Ron, unfazed, helped open the window, letting the two birds fly out for their date.
Hedwig looked like she'd been tricked by a scumbag. After all, the Earl's mind was only on voles—only wild owls would eat voles, and wild owls that lived for hundreds of years surely had many mates. The Earl followed Hedwig through the night, flitting up and down beside her, muttering something:
"You smell so good, what brand of perfume do you use?"
"Your wings are so beautiful, how about we compare them?"
"Your eyes are so beautiful..."
"Can we not go home tonight?"
"How can we go back so far so late? How about we go to the Owlery?"
"Let me touch it—"
Suddenly, a red feather, with an eerie movement, landed precisely on the Earl's head, who was flirting with the impassive Hedwig.
"Coo-coo-coo!"
The Earl's eyes suddenly became alert, as if he understood something.
A flash of fire passed, and the noisy owl disappeared into thin air.
Hedwig was puzzled for a while, circling in the same place for a few times, but couldn't find the Earl's figure. She turned around and flew towards Gryffindor Tower - at least the owl nuts at Harry's side were tastier than the voles of this weird owl.
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(End of this chapter)