Chapter 67: Can the Plan to Steal the Philosopher’s Stone Happen Before Final Exams?

On the way back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron tried to drag Cohen and Harry along to hang out. 

But as they passed the third floor, Cohen spotted Quirrell. He subtly waved at Cohen, looking like he had something to say. 

"I really wanted to hang out with you guys this time," Cohen said sincerely. But Ron and Harry both shot him skeptical looks. 

"But I've got to go see Quirrell. I promised him last time—and you don't want Snape pressuring him into spilling how to get past the Philosopher's Stone protections, do you?" 

"Yeah…" Harry nodded in agreement after hearing this. "Professor Quirrell does need support. After that last Quidditch match, he sounded like he was about to break down." 

"Do you need help?" Ron asked eagerly. "Would three of us give him more confidence?" 

"Three people would just make him think he's let the secret slip," Cohen replied, turning down Ron's offer to join. If he let them tag along, how was he supposed to discuss stealing the Philosopher's Stone with Quirrell? 

"Don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone." 

---

After parting ways with Harry and Ron, Cohen doubled back to Quirrell's office door. 

Quirrell looked even more anxious than Hermione had when she'd rushed off to the library earlier. 

"What's wrong? Is No-Nose pressuring you again?" Cohen asked, closing the door behind him. 

"N-no, this time it's not… I really can't…" Quirrell seemed terrified, his voice trembling as if his stutter had gotten worse. "It's Dumbledore… He called me to his office…" 

"Did he finally make a move on you?" Cohen said darkly. "That evil old Englishman—over a hundred years old and still so full of energy." 

"?" 

"?" 

Quirrell stared at Cohen with a strange, confused expression. Cohen returned the confusion. 

"Then what are you talking about?" Cohen asked. "Dumbledore didn't try to… you know, *make a move* on you?" 

"He's a man!" Quirrell exclaimed, incredulous. "And so am I!" 

"Yeah, exactly—that's why I suspected it!" 

Cohen nodded, as if this made perfect sense. 

"Honestly, from Dumbledore's perspective, you're not bad-looking—if we ignore the no-hair thing. If you gave up on stealing the Stone because of this and got chewed out by No-Nose, I'd comfort you—" 

"I—he didn't do anything to me… Dumbledore just talked to me about… some things. I think he might…" 

"You think he might know you're planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Cohen finished for him. "So you're not scared because Dumbledore might *make a move* on you…" 

"Of course not…" Quirrell whimpered. 

"Then why are you freaking out over nothing?!" 

Cohen sounded exasperated, like he was fed up with Quirrell's cowardice. 

Seriously? Scared off from stealing the Stone over something this simple? No wonder Voldemort had to keep pressuring him—if Cohen were in charge, he'd be a stress monster too. 

And if Quirrell backed out now, how was Cohen supposed to justify stealing the Stone himself? This guy's lack of conviction was unreal… 

"If you don't steal it, how's No-Nose supposed to come back? How am I supposed to help? How are we going to overthrow the Ministry and rule the world?" Cohen lectured, his tone heavy with disappointment. "You can't just think about yourself all the time…" 

Quirrell's expression started to freeze. He felt like he'd stumbled into one of Dumbledore's illusion spells—Cohen was starting to look like a bizarre mix of Dumbledore and Voldemort. 

"Grow a spine! Once you've got the Stone, you can just run for it. All we need is a way to lure Dumbledore away—like sending a letter from the Ministry. Wait, I've got an idea…" 

Cohen suddenly had a breakthrough. 

The school had him—Cohen! 

Those two Aurors he'd run into earlier clearly recognized him, meaning the Ministry had his info on file. But for some reason, they weren't watching him 24/7. 

That gave them another excuse to get the Ministry to call Dumbledore away. He and Quirrell could use this to get Dumbledore out of the picture— 

Of course, Cohen knew Dumbledore wouldn't buy any excuse, no matter how legit it sounded. 

But he'd still leave the school temporarily, if only to let Harry and Voldemort have their little showdown. 

Like Dumbledore always said, "Constant protection just coddles people. Only storms make trees grow stronger." 

After laying out the plan to Quirrell and Voldemort, they both agreed it was rough but the only workable option they had. 

"Soon…" Voldemort rasped, his voice dripping with desperation. "Don't drag this out too long…" 

"When do we move?" Cohen asked eagerly. "Sooner's better—like two weeks before finals. I can fake an excuse to skip class. You hit me with an *Avada Kedavra*, and I'll play dead until finals are over. That way, I don't have to study." 

"???" 

Quirrell felt like his ears were malfunctioning. What did he just hear? 

"What did you say? Hit you with *what* spell?!" 

"*Avada Kedavra*. Can't you do it? I showed you how last time—when you said you'd teach me dark magic," Cohen said, frowning. 

"If you can't pull that off, maybe No-Nose should think about getting a new lackey. His standards for teammates are way too low…" 

"I mean… that spell *kills* people," Quirrell said, his brain practically exploding. "It's just finals… it's not worth…" 

"You just cast the killing curse. Whether I die or not, I've got it covered," Cohen said seriously. "How else am I supposed to clear my name after you steal the Stone? You're already bad enough as it is. I'm different—I'm young. A clean academic record matters to me…" 

Voldemort unilaterally approved the plan, leaving Quirrell's confusion bottled up inside him. 

No-Nose had endured a decade as a wraith. This was his closest shot at returning—and now, his mind was laser-focused on getting that Stone. 

In the end, they settled on two weeks before finals. At that point, the other professors would be busy prepping exams, giving Quirrell more freedom to move. 

Plus, the Ministry usually sent assessment reports and job preference forms for Hogwarts grads around then—part of their pipeline to recruit N.E.W.T.-level students straight into cushy government jobs. 

Turns out the endgame of the world is bureaucracy. 

"Oh, by the way—didn't Snape come looking for you earlier? Harry mentioned it. They're starting to think Snape's after the Stone too," Cohen said suddenly. 

"And last time I was here, I overheard Snape asking about me. Are you two working together?" 

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(End of Chapter)