Chapter 23: Homework Is Truly an Evil Invention
As everyone knows, if something looks like a Dementor, has the abilities of a Dementor, and feels like a Dementor inside, then it's a Dementor…
Cohen bought this necklace, which didn't seem all that useful but, in practice, wasn't particularly effective either.
It wasn't about power—it was just plain cool.
And Cohen couldn't wait to dash to the Room of Requirement with a backpack full of homework to try it out. Sure, he was in a playful mood now, but if he didn't get his assignments done, he'd be facing detention in both Transfiguration and Herbology tomorrow.
"Coo coo coo!"
Earl, who'd been napping, was startled awake by the sudden appearance of a massive black-cloaked creature filling the room. His voice cracked as he frantically slammed into the still-closed window, desperate to escape.
"It's me…"
Cohen dropped the transformation. Looks like this beginner-level Dementor disguise worked pretty well.
"Does scaring a bird make you feel damn good or what?!"
Earl, seeing the giant Dementor shrink back into the infuriating kid, snapped at Cohen:
"My patience has its limits!"
"…"
Cohen turned back into a Dementor.
Even though Earl already knew it was Cohen and had just been scared once, the silent, sudden transformation spooked him a second time.
As Earl instinctively hopped back and nearly fell off the table, Cohen reverted to normal.
"You little—"
Earl really wanted to peck Cohen's nose.
"Hey-hey!" Cohen said cutely, trying to play it off.
"What the hell does 'hey-hey' mean?!"
Earl decided to abandon this cozy room and head back to the Owlery—at least no Dementors popped up out of nowhere there.
[**Ding! Sin Points +1**]
[*Note: Are you completely incapable of acting human?*]
Cohen eagerly opened the window for Earl, watching him fly off toward the Owlery, then plopped down comfortably by the fireplace. He dumped his homework all over the table where Earl had just been.
Originally, Cohen had planned to work in the common room—but after discovering his knack for pranks, George insisted on dragging him along to steal from Filch.
According to George, Filch's stash of confiscated items held some real treasures. The Marauder's Map he and Fred had been using came straight out of the "Confiscated Items, Highly Dangerous" drawer.
Cohen really wanted to go—if tomorrow wasn't Monday, that is.
"Alright, let's start with the Transfiguration homework!"
Cohen rubbed his hands together, dipped his quill in ink, and wrote a title on the spread-out parchment.
*"The Effect of Magical Input on Transformation Results"*
…
…
"Should I write to Rose? I think she told me to send her a letter every week…"
Cohen thought of this right after writing the first letter "M" of his essay.
When it came to homework versus family… family felt more important.
"Dear Rose… and Edward… if you're standing nearby…"
Cohen dragged over another piece of parchment and nibbled on the quill tip as he wrote.
"I'm doing great at Hogwarts… the teachers and classmates are all really nice… I've made lots of animal friends… but they all ignore me…"
…
Ten minutes later, Cohen had filled ten inches of parchment with a "family letter."
After folding it and stuffing it into an envelope, his gaze lingered on the essay, which still didn't have a single complete word.
"Forget it, I'll send the letter first."
Cohen decided he'd come back to the homework—wishing he hadn't annoyed Earl off, since now he'd have to trek halfway across the castle to the Owlery in the West Tower.
It took half an hour to get the letter to the Owlery and another ten minutes to smooth things over with Earl. Standing in the chilly wind atop the castle, Cohen watched Earl fly off with a sense of satisfaction.
It seemed like he'd run out of excuses to procrastinate…
Cohen trudged downstairs toward the main castle—
"N-Norton…"
Quirrell's stuttering voice came from behind him as he passed the third floor.
"Oh, I almost forgot!"
Cohen suddenly remembered he had a one-on-one Dark Magic tutoring session that afternoon.
"Thank God!"
Then, a bewildered Quirrell was dragged into his office by an eager Cohen, who couldn't wait to start.
Quirrell watched as Cohen bustled around, cleaning off Quirrell's own desk with Quirrell's own tools and even pushing Quirrell—the "teacher"—into a chair.
Quirrell felt less like he was teaching Cohen and more like Cohen was teaching him.
"Let's get started!"
Cohen asked excitedly:
"What do we learn first? The Imperius Curse? The Cruciatus Curse? Skip the Killing Curse—I already know that one…"
"…"
Quirrell adjusted his speech, dropping the stutter in front of Cohen—it wasn't necessary with him.
Per the Dark Lord's orders, he could get a little closer to this kid. Cohen was a prime candidate for a Death Eater: power-hungry, inherently wicked, with a soul mixed from various Dark magical creatures.
"I recall you wanted to learn—the Resurrection Curse, right?"
Quirrell cautiously studied Cohen's expression. The Dark Lord's instructions were clear: teach him what he could and do everything possible to win Cohen over.
Then take him out to kill—let Cohen lose himself completely in Dark Magic.
After all, the "Delayed Killing Curse" excuse he'd fed Cohen last time wouldn't hold up forever. In reality, it had just been a tracking spell.
"Oh…" Cohen's disappointment was obvious. "Fine, I guess. Do you have a corpse here? It's hard to practice without one. Should we go—"
"I've got one! I've got one!" Quirrell hurriedly interrupted.
"What about that noseless guy on the back of your head?" Cohen craned his neck toward Quirrell's skull. "I thought he'd teach me."
"The spells for now aren't too advanced. I can handle it…" Quirrell avoided revealing that Voldemort was currently weak, working hard to maintain the illusion that the Dark Lord was powerful and rarely showed himself.
Too bad Cohen already knew everything.
Necromancy was a Dark Magic spell to reanimate corpses—not true revival, but using magic to make the dead serve the caster.
For a young wizard, casting it successfully was nearly impossible.
But Cohen seemed to have a terrifying natural talent for Dark Magic—a stark contrast to his repeated failures with advanced spells from *The Complete Guide to Positive Magic*.
"Guess I'm just born bad, huh?"
Cohen raised an eyebrow as he watched an unknown Muggle corpse slowly rise under his control.
"Very successful magic, Mr. Norton—"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Cohen flung a Killing Curse at the freshly reanimated corpse.
A flash of green light later, Quirrell's expression matched the wide-eyed corpse's perfectly.
Since the reanimated body was just a dead object, the Killing Curse exploded on impact, reducing the corpse to dust in an instant.
"Too weak. I can't have useless minions," Cohen said, his brow furrowing.
The Inferius didn't live up to his expectations. A Dark Magic creation that gave the Ministry headaches should at least have some special abilities, right?
But all it had was slightly above-average strength—otherwise, it was no different from a regular person. Worse, it was afraid of light and fire.
*"Cohen's garden has no room for trash."*
(*End of Chapter*)