Chapter 2: Dude, You… Smell So Good

Chapter 2: Dude, You… Smell So Good

Of course, Cohen wasn't dumb enough to straight-up tell his adoptive father he wasn't human, especially since neither of his parents had the slightest suspicion about him. 

Do you know how rare it is for a protagonist to have both parents still alive? Adoptive parents count too!

Meanwhile, Edward managed to successfully "explain" what the wizarding world was like to Cohen with his scatterbrained, stream-of-consciousness teaching style.

Oh, and there was Dumbledore's warning to the couple: under no circumstances should they reveal their wizard identities in front of Harry Potter.

"You know, all these years you've never had a single magical outburst. It had me and your mom thinking you were just a Mug—no, I mean, an ordinary kid," Edward said with a sigh. "I didn't even dare pull out my wand at home, afraid you'd see magic and…"

"So that's why you've been relying on Mom's job to support us all this time?" 

Cohen asked his first question with a dead serious expression. 

Edward, who'd been eagerly waiting to answer his son's questions about the wizarding world and rebuild his towering fatherly image, froze on the spot. 

"Well… you know, the wizarding world has strict rules. It's best not to use too much magic in the Muggle world—especially if Muggles might see. I mean—wait a sec, aren't you even a little curious about magic? Like, don't you want me to show you how to conjure a bouquet of flowers or make a pear tap-dance or something?" 

In a flustered panic, Edward yanked his wand out of his pocket. Instantly, the living room erupted into chaos—runaway fruit and golden birds flapping everywhere. His precise wand movements and skill with silent casting proved Edward was no third-rate wizard. 

Cohen: *confused.jpg* 

Are wizards' souls, on average, really only worth a dozen points or so? 

To Edward, it looked like his magic had left Cohen stunned. 

"So, what do you think? Wanna learn some of this?" Edward ruffled Cohen's hair, trying to mess up its neatness. 

"I'll learn it at school later, right?" Cohen couldn't quite muster any enthusiasm for this flashy, decorative magic. He was far more interested in practical stuff. "You know I prefer books. Maybe you could just give me the textbooks, and I'll study them myself." 

While the targeted plan for Muggle-born kids was officially off the table, that didn't mean Edward and Rose could coast through the next seven years without a hitch. 

The "happy childhood" plan was over ahead of schedule. Now it was time for the "first three-year plan to completely take down Voldemort and his remnants." 

For that, Cohen needed to rack up as many goodwill points and sin points as possible in the relatively peaceful first three years to boost his magical skills and soul integrity. After all, if he didn't interfere, Voldemort would come back in year four. 

Naturally, Cohen wasn't about to let the plot unfold like that. When the time came, Harry and the main crew would probably be fine, but Cohen and his parents—three random nobodies who weren't even supposed to exist—might not be so lucky. 

Here's hoping Voldemort, that soul-shredded mess of a man who looked like he'd been through a paper shredder, could be chomped down in one bite by Cohen, whose soul was at 100% integrity. 

Oh, and there were the Horcruxes to collect too. Voldemort's soul fragments were a massively unstable factor, and Cohen could scarf them down as dessert without a shred of guilt. 

"Of course we've got textbooks. Your mom and I still have our old ones at home—" Edward let out a relieved breath at Cohen's response. Cohen really did love books, and wanting to learn about magic from them was a solid choice. Letting a little wizard dive straight into practicing magic might be a bit risky, after all. 

No kid wizard had ever reacted to their first brush with magic as calmly as if they'd just been told beef was swapping for lamb at dinner. 

"What's with that look? We're not gonna make you use *old* textbooks…" 

Noticing Cohen's expression starting to resemble Rose's, Edward hurriedly clarified. 

Since the "intro to the wizarding world" session was done and Cohen seemed unusually calm with no questions to ask, Edward handed him the letter. 

"Keep this safe. Tomorrow, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to get your wand and school supplies. Oh, and maybe you should invite some friends over for your birthday party tonight?" Edward stood up, satisfied, slipping his wand back into his pocket. "Dad's gotta go prep the ingredients and the birthday cake." 

"Oh, and don't mention anything about magic to your friends—especially not Harry next door." 

---

Good news: Before Cohen crossed over, Harry and "Cohen" already knew each other. 

Bad news: In the month since Cohen arrived, Harry hadn't been let out of the Dursleys' house even once, so Cohen hadn't had a chance to check out the Voldemort soul fragment in Harry and figure out its level. 

"I need to figure out if this is my only shot at seeing a Voldemort fragment this whole July." 

Cohen stood at the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive, brainstorming how to invite Harry over for the birthday party without raising suspicions—probably by including Dudley too, or the Dursleys would peg "the Nortons as another freak family." 

Even back when they were posing as a Muggle family, the Dursleys weren't exactly neighbors you'd want to hang out with. Especially Petunia—she'd often peek over the hedge at Edward's lawn-trimming and then spread dark, heavy rumors about it in the neighborhood. To be fair, Edward's rat-shaped hedge *was* a bit odd. 

Cohen figured it was a lingering bad impression from when Lily turned their teacups into rats way back when. 

"Hello, Mr. Dursley! I'm Cohen from the Norton family!" 

When the door opened, Cohen gave a polite little bow to Vernon Dursley, watching as Vernon's pig-liver-colored face went from red to white and back to red again. 

Clearly, the Dursleys' discussions about the Nortons had already reached the "confirming they're wizards" stage—maybe even a unilateral decision. The Dursleys acted like magic and wizards were a jump scare, as if the slightest whiff of it would ruin their lives. 

But with Cohen's mom, Rose, being the editor-in-chief of the business section at *The Times*, Vernon obviously didn't dare snub them outright—lest his drill company catch some bad press. 

"Hmm—huh?" 

Vernon's incredibly complex thought process ended in a single, meaningless grunt. 

"It's my birthday today, and I'd like to invite a few friends from around here to come over. My dad's preparing a big dinner." Cohen took Vernon's grunt as permission to keep talking. 

"Dudley can come. I hear you're going to Smeltings too, so it'd be good to bond as future classmates—" Vernon relaxed noticeably at the birthday invite and agreed right away. But then, his rarely-used brain clicked. "Wait, you said 'a few friends from around here'?" 

Harry didn't exactly count as a Dursley kid. 

"I remember there's a kid named Harry here too. Why not let him come to the party?" Cohen pressed. 

"There's no Harry here!" Vernon snapped angrily. "He moved out!" 

"But I've seen him. It's not abuse, is it? My mom loves kids, and if—" Cohen put on a straight-faced "threat." 

"Fine… but I'll warn you, he's clumsy, always causing trouble, and dangerous. If you still want him knowing that… ugh, fine." Vernon grumbled his warning, but seeing Cohen wasn't backing down, he bellowed up the stairs, "Harry! Birthday party! Hurry up, damn it!" 

A clattering noise followed, and a skinny, bespectacled boy stumbled out from the cupboard under the stairs. 

"Cohen?!" Harry said, delighted. 

This was obviously the last thing Vernon wanted to see—Harry happy made him unhappy. 

"You go with him for now. Dudley'll come over at dinner time," Vernon barked at Harry. "Don't cause trouble." 

His last words dripped with a tone that almost *hoped* Harry would mess up, like he was dead certain inviting Harry to dinner was a mistake. 

"I promise I won't cause trouble," Harry said to Cohen as they left the Dursleys'. 

But Cohen's mind wasn't on Harry's promise. 

**[Soul Strength: 7 (Sacrificial Protection)]** 

**[Soul Strength: 40]** 

Harry had two starkly different labels on him. 

No need to guess—the one tagged "Sacrificial Protection" was Harry's own soul, the ancient spell Lily cast with her life. 

And that hefty 40-point soul strength? That was Voldemort's fragment. 

What a tough nut to crack! 

Even if he couldn't suck it up, that potent soul shard was still giving off a sickly-sweet vibe—practically a gourmet dish to a Dementor. 

"C-Cohen… why are you looking at me like that…?" 

Harry swallowed hard and instinctively took a step back. 

"Dude, you smell so good—uh, I mean, I zoned out for a sec, thinking about what we're eating tonight." Cohen had only been briefly lured by that tempting Voldemort shard before snapping out of it and acting normal. 

Annoying. Forty points. That'd take at least twenty-nine more soul fragments from the sin shop—29,000 sin points. 

That's like stealing 29,000 kids' lollipops! 

A long road ahead. Hope the Hogwarts staff and students were ready. 

"Cohen, thanks for getting me out. I've been locked up with the Dursleys for a whole month…" 

At Cohen's house, Harry was wolfing down an overly sweet apple pie Edward had made, thanking Cohen over and over. 

"Thank my dad. If he'd set my birthday in October, you might've been stuck there 'til the holidays ended." 

At the mention of the holidays ending, Harry's mood visibly sank. 

Cohen was the only one willing to talk to him despite the "freak" label, but after this break, Cohen would go to Smeltings with Dudley, while Harry was headed to Stonewall High, some public school. Dudley had mocked him about it for ages. 

"Cheer up. It's not like we'll never see each other again," Cohen said breezily, knowing full well what the future held. "Pace yourself—there's still dinner tonight. Don't fill up on pie." 

(End of Chapter)