Chapter 28: There Is a Difference Between a Cat-Girl and an Owl

At breakfast the next morning, Harry and Ron were already openly speculating about what could be hidden beneath the trapdoor.

"It’s either incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous," Ron said.

"Or both," Harry deduced, sounding like a detective.

Hermione, who had escaped the clutches of the three-headed dog alongside them the previous night, had long since drawn a line between herself and the two boys, sitting as far away from them as possible during breakfast.

Cohen had no interest in joining in Harry and Ron’s nonsense; after his Transfiguration class that morning, he intended to head to the Room of Requirement to experiment with some magic. He had tested a few advanced spells that morning that he hadn’t been able to cast before—at the very least, the Bubble-Head Charm had been a success. It seemed that the increase in his soul’s strength was enhancing his magical prowess, meaning he wouldn't have to wait until he was older like the other young wizards to master high-level spells.

With a pile of homework assigned by Professor McGonagall in tow, Cohen returned to the Room of Requirement. He opened his copy of *Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4* and began testing the charms he had previously failed to cast.

"Accio Earl!"

"Squawk!" The Earl, who had been dozing by the fireplace, let out a crude owl-profanity as his body was suddenly jerked out of his control.

"Silencio!"

The Earl’s outburst was reduced to mere mouthing.

After some experimentation, it seemed that most of the spells in the book no longer presented any difficulty for Cohen. However, he was slightly dissatisfied with the power behind them; his magical capacity remained capped at a fixed value, and no matter how he channeled his emotions, he couldn't seem to increase it. There were also more complex spells, like Gubraithian Fire or the Hour-Reversal Charm, that he still couldn't manage.

After testing, Cohen had a better understanding of what his soul strength meant for him: unlocking more powerful spells and increasing his magical reserves. He found himself increasingly curious about exactly what he was. After all, if he was a "weapon" created by dark wizards using their lives and efforts, he couldn't just be a Dementor with a human body that could cast spells and talk trash, could he? It sounded like something out of alchemy—unless the wizarding world had a field of study for hybridization.

"Do you have to use me as your bloody target every single time?"

It wasn't until Cohen was ready to leave that he remembered to lift the silencing charm from the Earl.

"Bloody hell..."

The Earl’s vocabulary was always heavily laden with "motherf***er," but Cohen didn't mind. Once one realized that their biological mother might be a Dementor, a dark wizard, or some unknown species, even the world's most talented "mother-hunter" couldn't get under Cohen's skin. In a sense, Cohen was actually the most suitable young wizard to own the Earl, as the other students actually had mothers.

Cohen’s school life had settled into a few fixed points. During class time, he would spawn in the classroom, while during his free time, he would randomly spawn in the Great Hall, the Room of Requirement, the library, Quirrell’s office, the Forbidden Forest, or the dormitory.

Hermione, who spent much of her time in the library, had developed a new attitude toward Cohen, who refused to sink to the level of Harry and Ron. Unfortunately, Cohen only appeared before her on weekends when he needed to catch up on his assignments and copy her work.

"What on earth are you actually learning!" Hermione asked, full of confusion on the last weekend before Halloween.

"Homework is the biggest waste of time in the world, and I’ve never liked wasting time," Cohen said while snacking on a cream stick, copying the work with one hand.

Several weeks of school life had allowed Cohen to grasp exactly what the minimum requirements were for each professor’s assignments. So, he simply aimed for the bare minimum—as long as there were words and it didn’t look like it was written by an AI... "Wait, I forgot there’s no AI yet," he remembered, realizing it was 1991.

"You—ugh..." Hermione wanted to lecture him, but she couldn't find the words. Cohen was undeniably talented in Charms, and she often drew inspiration from him—it was just a shame that he would vanish as soon as he finished copying.

This time was no exception. Cohen ran off after leaving a pile of Honeydukes sweets for Hermione, completely forgetting that she was a dentist’s daughter and didn't care much for treats so sugary they would cause cavities even after brushing.

Cohen headed straight for the library. He had been lurking there for weeks, but books like *Advanced Alchemy* and *Souls in the Urn* were always marked as "checked out."

If he couldn't get his hands on those books, Cohen felt he might lose something precious, like his patience, his kindness, and his love for the school.

"You’re in luck, Mr. Norton. These books were just returned."

Madam Pince walked through the shelves with several thick volumes and returned to the circulation desk. After completing the checkout, Cohen snuck a glance at the previous borrower. According to library rules, no one was allowed to check out the same book for several weeks in a row, but there was one exception in this school: Dumbledore.

*Seriously? You’re already an alchemy master, do you really need to read "Advanced Alchemy"?*

Or was he just trying to keep him from learning about his own origins? If Dumbledore really didn't want Cohen to see them, he could have just removed the books from the library entirely—a Headmaster could do whatever he wanted.

Yet, Dumbledore had returned the books. Cohen didn't understand, but it didn't matter; he could read them now.

He eagerly took the books back to the Room of Requirement, which he had claimed for himself. Because of the Earl, the room had become Cohen’s "secret base," with the two of them taking turns keeping watch. Having a talking bird was undeniably cool. The Earl was there of his own volition, and the room would even manifest things like owl perches and beds at his request.

"I’ve never seen an owl sleep in a bed," Cohen said, his face darkening as he returned. "You aren't going to turn into a human one of these days, are you?"

"Hmm?" The Earl, lying in a nest by the fireplace in a bizarre posture, opened half an eye. "I thought you liked animals turning into humans? I heard you telling a stray tuxedo cat to 'turn into a cat-girl' the other day—"

"There’s a big difference between a cute cat-girl and a sleazy, shirtless, middle-aged owl man," Cohen replied stiffly. "If the latter appeared in front of me..."

"Don't worry," the Earl yawned. "Even if I were to turn into another species, I wouldn't choose to become one of you upright apes."