Chapter 59 Kitchen Fugitive

Many years later, when Hagrid walked deep into the Forbidden Forest to check on the living conditions of the unicorns, he would always remember that afternoon when Cohen brought that strange, pitch-black unicorn that loved butterbeer into his hut...

However, Cohen couldn't be bothered to care—a booze-loving mother, a gambling father, a brother locked in prison, and a broken him...

Seen in this light, the world had already transformed into some gloomy, twisted shape, and Cohen no longer cared.

If it's going to rot, let it rot; you eventually get used to the rotting.

After releasing Arlia back into the forest, Cohen returned to the castle alone.

Having perfectly missed dinner, Cohen decided to deliver that vial of unicorn blood straight to Quirrell's office first, and then sneak down to the kitchen to grab some food to bring back to the common room.

That way, he wouldn't have to go out again tonight.

Arriving near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the second floor of the castle, Cohen saw that the door to Quirrell's office was wide open, and someone inside was talking—

It was Snape.

He was cornering Quirrell against the office wall, his left hand gripping Quirrell's collar, his right hand hidden beneath his robes, looking as though he were clutching a wand.

And the stuttering Quirrell looked like some poor wretch being bullied in the workplace.

"Se-Severus..."

Quirrell stammered.

"What on earth are you plotting with that student named 'Cohen Norton'?" Snape said coldly. "Dumbledore is starting to grow suspicious of you—have you figured out how to get past Hagrid's monster yet?"

"I—I—but..." Quirrell wrung his hands, not daring to meet Snape's gaze.

"I have warned you once already, Quirrell." Snape stepped closer. "This concerns the Dark Lord—"

"Who?"

Snape suddenly whipped his head around toward the doorway.

"Ah, good evening, Professors. Having a chat, are you?" Cohen greeted them as if nothing was amiss.

"How long have you been eavesdropping outside?" Snape swooped toward Cohen like a giant bat. "If I'm not mistaken, you did not attend the feast... Mr. Norton."

"That's because I was helping Hagrid take care of the unicorns," Cohen said honestly, blinking at Snape—this man would surely report it to Dumbledore.

Being able to mingle with unicorns was yet another solid proof of Cohen's "kind-hearted nature."

"Unicorns generally do not allow young male wizards to approach them," Snape drew out his syllables as he looked at Cohen. "I suppose you know what harming a unicorn entails, don't you?"

"Don't talk nonsense, I get along great with them."

Cohen pulled out a small flower given to him by the unicorn foal, along with a small ball of golden fluff—that unicorn was shedding a bit, probably due to eating Hagrid's version of toffees.

"..."

Snape's hollow gaze stared at Cohen for a long moment; Cohen could not read his intentions—Snape even kept all his emotions suppressed deep within his mind, making it impossible for Cohen to judge by reading the emotions lingering around people.

Still, the iron-clad proof was right here; Snape couldn't possibly tell Dumbledore that Cohen hadn't even spared a unicorn foal...

Snape said nothing more to Cohen, cast one last deep look back at Quirrell, and then swept his robes and strode away.

Yet after taking two steps, he abruptly paused for a moment—

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape suddenly turned back to say. "Students are forbidden from entering the Forbidden Forest."

"I went to help Hagrid take care of the unicorns!" Cohen retorted.

"Hagrid is not a professor."

Snape picked a reason to deduct points, and Cohen strongly suspected that this excuse was one Snape had prepared long in advance to use against Harry.

Snape had surely prepared a whole arsenal of excuses to deduct points, ready to apply them logically and rigorously the moment Harry stepped into the Potions classroom with his left foot first.

"You, put those points right back."

After Snape left, Cohen slammed that vial of unicorn blood onto Quirrell's desk and demanded.

"You really—how did you..." Quirrell stared in disbelief at the vial of fresh unicorn blood Cohen had produced.

The silvery blood swirled slowly inside the test tube like a piece of art—but how had Cohen managed it?

Would unicorns let a young wizard harvest their blood? Or could it be that...

Cohen had slaughtered a unicorn amidst a pack of centaurs and unicorns, and then walked away completely unscathed?

The more Quirrell thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.

Under Cohen's strong demand, Quirrell still added back the points Snape had deducted from Cohen, and even threw in an extra twenty points under the pretext of "assisting a professor in obtaining rare curriculum materials."

A satisfied Cohen left the second floor and first descended to the lower level of the Entrance Hall on the first floor.

If Cohen remembered correctly, the corridor leading to the Hufflepuff common room featured a painting of a bowl of fruit...

Cohen's memory did not fail him; the brightly lit corridor wall indeed hung such a painting, featuring a particularly vibrant pear.

Cohen reached out and tickled the pear, which let out a fit of giggling and instantly transformed into a green door handle.

To be fair, Hogwarts' house-elves were extremely enthusiastic toward the students; as long as you knew the way to the kitchen, no student would ever go hungry at Hogwarts—

"You guys really don't need to be this scared of me."

Cohen's mouth twitched as he looked at the group of house-elves who, upon his entry, scrambled away in a panic like mice seeing a cat and finally huddled together trembling in a corner.

Among them, a few timid house-elves even let out a shrill shriek before vanishing with a loud *crack* of Apparition.

"I'm just here to find something to eat—"

The moment Cohen finished speaking, he felt as though he had said the wrong thing; those words seemed to carry an entirely different meaning to the ears of the house-elves.

"A Dementor has come to eat the house-elves!"

The entire kitchen erupted as if someone had tossed a bundle of firecrackers into it. Amidst a chain of popping noises, almost all of the terrified elves fled.

Cohen felt he needed to find a way to mask his sometimes inconvenient Dementor nature—there were far too many sensitive creatures in the magical world.

Perhaps he should browse the Goodwill Value Shop? There were simply too many items in there, and Cohen had never been able to summon the patience to read through them all in boredom.

However, not all the house-elves here had turned deserters.

Cohen noticed there was still one elf left in the corner.

It tried hard to puff out its skinny chest, its eyes tightly shut, like a warrior marching to his doom—as though staying here meant having its soul devoured by Cohen.

"Dinky is not afraid of anything... Dinky is loyal... Dinky will protect the Hogwarts kitchen..."

As Cohen steadily drew closer, the house-elf named Dinky desperately tried to numb itself with words—yet Cohen could still see its trembling legs and the throat swallowing hard against saliva, as if death were standing right before it.

Dinky couldn't help but crack open a tiny slit of an eye.

It saw the monster with the dark and evil soul approaching.

The monster was right in front of it now!

The monster opened its mouth!

It was going to suck out its soul!

"Some fried chicken and french fries?"