Chapter 24: Shocking: A Certain Hogwarts Headmaster Actually Did This to a Student...

At least now, this Muggle corpse—dug up who knows how long ago—would no longer be desecrated by wizards. Cohen’s heart was, deep down, quite kind.

This Dark Arts lesson was a great success, moving Quirrell to tears. After all, an eleven-year-old child had cast an "Avada Kedavra" in front of him that was powerful enough to cause a massive explosion even upon striking a corpse; if Cohen’s aim had drifted just a little, it would have been Quirrell himself ascending to the heavens instead of the body.

Indeed, those targeted by the Dark Lord were never ordinary people.

"How about we learn the Imperius Curse next lesson? Can you prepare some test subjects?" Cohen asked with anticipation. "Also..."

"Of course... of course..." Quirrell seemed to be stuttering again. "Is there anything else you wish to learn... Mr. Norton?"

"Also... can I be excused from next week’s Defense Against the Dark Arts homework?"

"Ye, yes... next week’s essay—or the week after’s—you don’t have to write them..."

Could Quirrell possibly refuse? It was like watching a toddler holding a Glock pistol while asking, "Can you give me that Coke in your hand?"—all while a mob boss stood behind the child saying, "Go on, teach him how to shoot."

Quirrell would bet his life that Cohen would never graduate normally. If such an evil little brat could stay at Hogwarts for seven years, it would only be because Dumbledore was blind.

Just as Quirrell was about to send this little ancestor on his way, Cohen suddenly thought of something.

"Wait—"

Cold sweat streamed down Quirrell’s face.

"Didn’t your boss say last time that I should help you steal that thing hidden in the fourth-floor corridor?" Cohen asked.

"This... I will find a way—at least find an opportunity..." Quirrell appeared somewhat embarrassed, as he hadn't thought of any good ideas yet; his teaching schedule at Hogwarts was far too full.

"Didn't I suggest putting a dragon in the school to distract the staff and students last time?" Cohen reminded him.

"A dragon is a bit too—"

"I reflected on it later, and a dragon is indeed hard to smuggle in," Cohen said earnestly.

"So, how about a mountain troll? There’s a troll cave in the mountains. When there’s a big event in the Great Hall, I’ll lure the troll to a place far away from the fourth-floor corridor..."

Cohen detailed the plan—naturally, he had copied it from the original story. It was the only relatively safe method he could think of; at least no students would be injured. If Dumbledore asked later, Cohen would just claim it was all coerced by Quirrell.

*Quirrell and Voldemort Made Me Do It.*

"It, it is indeed a good idea..."

Quirrell was becoming accustomed to Cohen’s higher level of enthusiasm for stealing the Sorcerer’s Stone than his own.

"Perhaps you should return, Mr. Norton... if Dumbledore finds out—"

"He won’t find out. I’m very tight-lipped," Cohen promised solemnly.

***

In the end, Cohen finished his homework on Sunday night.

Cohen had realized by now that procrastination solved nothing. Homework was the most evil thing on earth; it encroached upon the most precious playtime of his student years, and also...

"Homework is very important, Cohen! Next time you must write it yourself. I won’t lend it to you to copy a second time."

In an empty classroom, Hermione warned Cohen with extreme sternness.

"Don’t waste your time running around with those boys—you are clearly proficient in both the theory and practice of these spells..."

"Some things, once learned, don't need to be practiced repeatedly."

Cohen knew that Hermione was just tough on the outside and soft on the inside; once he had copied her homework once, he would surely be able to borrow it every time thereafter. Cohen declared Hermione the Goddess of Homework.

"Besides, I have my own things to take care of..."

Hermione pursed her lips in frustration, an expression remarkably similar to Professor McGonagall’s. She clearly didn't believe him, as she had heard Filch was hunting for a student named "Colson Golden" all day because of the Dungbomb incident—a name Cohen had intentionally left on the wall as a pseudonym. The Weasley twins had been loudly praising Cohen in the common room all day (Fred: "Did you see? Filch’s face was as red as a baboon’s backside all day long").

"Sigh, boys..."

Fortunately, Cohen had managed to catch Hermione studying in the Charms classroom, otherwise, those four essays could never have been finished in an hour—even with much of that time taken up by Hermione’s lecturing.

By the time Cohen returned to the common room, only Harry and Ron remained—two best friends who had just realized they needed to finish their homework.

"Cohen! You must have finished your homework!" Seeing Cohen enter, Ron’s eyes lit up as he lunged forward.

"Cohen, save us!" Harry chimed in.

...

The good news: Harry and Ron managed to finish their homework under Cohen’s supervision.

The second bit of good news: on Thursday of the second week, they would have their first flying lesson.

There was no bad news for the moment. On Thursday morning, Cohen listened to Ron’s eighteenth rendition of his "thrilling flying experience" and was forcibly dragged by Hermione to listen to her explain the flying instructions from *Fantastic Quidditch Balls*.

"It’s just riding a broom, like driving a car," Cohen comforted her. "At most, you might crash, nothing will happen."

"But it doesn’t have a seatbelt!" Hermione frantically scratched at her messy hair, clearly feeling insecure about a class that couldn't be studied in advance.

"Good heavens, you’re a witch," Cohen said, rubbing his forehead. "Your wand is your seatbelt, not a strap on the broomstick."

The arrival of the owl post interrupted Hermione’s behavior, which had spread a near-tangible anxiety. The little wizards around them looked relieved.

Cohen didn't like anxiety either—because that emotion tasted sour.

For some reason (though Cohen knew why), whenever the owls passed by his area, they would always take a wide detour. Only Earl dared to stop beside Cohen, occasionally snatching a chicken leg to take away.

"A letter from your mother," Earl said indistinctly, dropping a thick envelope by Cohen’s hand, along with a parcel full of sweets. "And snacks tucked in by your father."

Harry cast an envious glance from nearby, though he quickly looked away.

Cohen unfolded the letter; it was filled with Rose’s instructions and a note that he might need to stay at school for Christmas, as she and Edward planned to visit Edward’s father—Cohen’s grandfather—who was nearing the end of his life.

"It’s only September..." Cohen’s mouth twitched. "No need to be this early..."

He didn't know why they weren't taking him—perhaps it was related to his identity, or some other reason.

Staying at school was fine; spending the days in the dormitory playing until the world went dark wasn't an unacceptable prospect.

On the other side, Neville also received a gift: a Remembrall (filled with white smoke; if you forgot something, it would turn red).

Cohen remembered that this ball would trigger a series of events, such as Malfoy provoking Harry only to be put in his place, and a Quidditch talent being discovered by Professor McGonagall...

However, these things had nothing to do with the ball’s owner, Neville Longbottom, who would be spending the entire lesson in the hospital wing today.

But when the flying lesson began, Cohen realized it had nothing to do with him either.

It wasn't because the broomstick was scared of him, but rather...

"Is Cohen Norton here?" An older student barged into the flying lesson field.

"Huh? Me?" Cohen pointed at himself, confused.

Had Filch finally discovered he was the one who threw the Dungbomb? Or had Earl been bullying other owls?

"This is class time, Mr. Smith," Madam Hooch said, frowning at the older student.

"Er—it’s Professor Dumbledore’s request—"

The student named Smith quickly pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to Madam Hooch.

It was written in a long, spindly, looping script. Cohen split off half his soul to sneak a look.

[Please have the Gryffindor student Cohen Norton come to the Headmaster’s office for tea. Due to special requests from his parents, he is exempt from attending Hogwarts flying lessons.]