Chapter 132: Where Mundungus’s Loot Ended Up

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Mundungus clutched his eyes and yelled, "My eyes—someone wiped their hand across my eyes!"

"You're not dead, so your eyes don't matter," Cohen said flatly.

"Who's there?" Mundungus forced his eyes open. The blurry scene in front of him slowly sharpened, and he realized he was staring at a kid who looked about eleven or twelve.

"Oh, kid—" Mundungus tried to put on a kindly, elder-like expression. "Did you save me? Thanks, little guy—you might not believe this, but I just got attacked by an owl…"

He glanced around and took in his surroundings. It looked like a living room—a wooden house, nothing too fancy or valuable…

Wait a sec. That pile of scales by the fireplace… were those *dragon scales*? And those strands scattered on the floor—unicorn hair, maybe? Though the color seemed a bit off…

Okay, maybe not *that* poor—

Then Mundungus spotted the owl perched on a bird stand against the wall.

"That owl!"

With a shriek, he bolted behind Cohen for cover.

"Watch out—are your parents here? Call them quick! That owl's got something freaky going on—where's my wand?"

"You mean this?" Cohen stepped away from him and waved another wand in his hand.

"Yes!" Mundungus reached for it with a grin, but froze mid-motion.

The kid had moved to stand next to the owl, and they didn't look remotely hostile toward each other.

"You're… working together?" Mundungus stammered. "But you're just a kid—a student? Or… Polyjuice Potion?"

"Twelve years old, thank you very much," Cohen said politely. "So it totally fits my vibe that I had an owl kidnap you."

What kind of owl kidnaps a wizard?! 

Mundungus had a sinking feeling he'd stumbled into something big—way worse than tangling with the Ministry.

"Cohen Norton—or maybe I should use my old last name, Cohen Bork," Cohen said, locking eyes with Mundungus, who was clearly itching to bolt. "Ring any bells? The thief from eleven years ago?"

"You're—hold on—that…" Mundungus swallowed hard.

He knew that name. The Bork family's terrifying lab experiment. A baby who'd wiped out nearly every living thing in the manor the moment it was born. Thanks to that little monster, Mundungus had made a fortune fencing stuff he'd swiped from their basement.

"How do you know I—"

"The unicorn told me," Cohen said, raising an eyebrow.

"Damn it, I should've nabbed that weird unicorn too," Mundungus muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Cohen's face darkened. "You wanted to steal my *mom* too?!"

"No—no, I didn't—" Mundungus waved his hands frantically, pale as a ghost. "I wasn't trying to steal your mom—"

Suddenly, an old-school escape plan popped into his head.

"Dumbledore? What are you doing here…?" 

He stared dramatically over Cohen's shoulder.

Cohen knew it was a fake-out, but he wasn't worried about Mundungus getting away.

No wand, and the second he stepped outside, he'd run right into—

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Mundungus flung the door open and let out an ear-piercing scream.

Norbert had just poked his head toward the doorway and slightly opened his mouth. That was enough to send the bald thief fainting to the floor.

"Aguamenti."

Cohen dragged him back into the living room and shut the door. Norbert was still nosily trying to peek inside, though there was no way he'd fit.

"Ugh—hah—"

Mundungus sputtered awake as the water hit him.

"Still wanna run?" Cohen asked with a friendly smile.

"No, no running…" Mundungus gulped, hearing Norbert's claws scratching at the door.

"Good boy," Cohen said, plopping onto the couch with a satisfied grin. "I ask, you answer."

"Okay, okay…" Mundungus nodded eagerly.

If this were any other pint-sized wizard, Mundungus wouldn't have batted an eye. Even with his wand in their hands, he could've easily overpowered them with brute adult strength and a few tricks.

What's a kid that size gonna do? Shoot some sparks from their wand? Maybe singe a hole in his shirt if they're lucky?

But this was *Cohen*. The freaking monster who'd slaughtered over three hundred people as a toddler. Now he was twelve—probably even more unhinged. Back then, Mundungus had thought Dumbledore's whole "raise this kid with love and family" plan was a colossal mistake. He'd distanced himself from the Order of the Phoenix crowd, hoping to stay clear if the little psycho ever lost it.

Guess that didn't work out.

"What'd you steal from the lab eleven years ago?" Cohen asked, picking up on Mundungus's mix of rage and fear. Not that it mattered—those memories were getting wiped anyway.

Cohen was already poking around in his head while asking questions. Mundungus wasn't some high-level wizard with Occlumency skills. If he were, he wouldn't be stuck pulling petty thefts all the time.

"Some experiment logs, a bunch of books, tools, potions, animal carcasses…" Mundungus racked his brain to remember.

"Why'd you take that stuff?" Cohen pressed. "Who put you up to it?"

Mundungus hesitated for a second or two.

"Dumbledore! It was Dumbledore who told me to steal it!" he blurted out.

"Really?" Cohen narrowed his eyes.

"Swear to Merlin—" Mundungus insisted.

Cohen sniffed the air and leaned in close, his voice low and creepy. "Then why do I smell a lie?"

With Cohen's Dementor-like lie-detector vibes and a constant Legilimency scan running, spotting Mundungus's bull was child's play.

His memory-diving hit a snag—a secrecy charm. Not as hardcore as a Fidelius Charm or an Unbreakable Vow, but enough to block full access.

Mundungus would have to pay a price to spill the buyer's name. Clearly, he wasn't keen on doing that.

"It really was Dumbledore…" 

He kept lying, tears and snot streaming down his face. To anyone else, he might've looked pitiful. Too bad for him—Cohen was a Dementor. Whatever conscience he'd scraped together over the year had been spent at Christmas.

"Time to get serious," Cohen sighed. "Mick, give him the good stuff."

At his words, a black-cloaked figure emerged from a pouch on the table.

Mundungus felt his breath catch.

Cold. Soul-deep cold.

A Dementor was drifting toward him. No wand in hand—and even if he had one, his Patronus Charm was garbage anyway.

"No—no—"

Mundungus trembled as the Dementor, dubbed "Mick" by Cohen, floated right up to him and pulled back its hood.

A faceless void stared back, its mouth a bottomless black hole, draped in a sheer, gauzy layer of darkness.

He could feel his soul tugging free from his body—he was done for. Screw the secrecy charm—what curse could be worse than dying?

"I'll talk! I'll talk! I'll…" he shouted desperately.

"Mick, hold up," Cohen ordered.

Mick wobbled its head and tugged the hood back on.

"Such a cute little cloak, huh?" Cohen mused.

"Cute?" the owl, Earl, piped up skeptically.

"C-cute?" Mundungus wheezed, sucking in the sweet air of "still being alive."

"Not important. Keep talking," Cohen said to him. "Who told you to steal that stuff?"

"A… a little group called the 'Silver Key Assembly'…" 

Mundungus mumbled, trying to dodge the side effects of breaking the charm.

No dice. As the secret spilled, a rash erupted across his skin, starting at his mouth and spreading over his face. The pain cut off his next words.

A curse? 

Trying to pull a curse in front of Cohen was borderline hilarious.

A quick tap of his wand to Mundungus's forehead, and the secrecy charm's effects melted away, dissolved by the liquid curse coursing through Cohen. If that liquid curse was like a venom brewed from the nastiest bugs, this charm's side effects weren't even worth calling a pest.

"How'd you do that?!" Mundungus rubbed his suddenly normal skin, stunned. "The curse—it's gone?"

"You wouldn't get it if I told you. Keep going," Cohen said, eager for more. "What's this Silver Key Assembly? Where are they? Why'd they want the Bork manor's experiment logs?"

"They're some kinda magic research crew, I guess. I ran into them while smuggling some shady contraband…" 

With the charm kaput, Mundungus had no qualms spilling the beans.

"Last place I dealt with them was 77 Knockturn Alley. Looks like a dragon liver shop on the surface, but there's a big warehouse underneath, plus a bunch of locked rooms. Never got let inside, though."

"Did they say what they wanted the logs for?" Cohen frowned.

"I overheard bits and pieces… uh, they mostly spoke French, so I didn't catch much," Mundungus admitted. "The English parts I got were stuff like 'the great work'—Magnum Opus, I think—and 'arrival'…"

*The Great Work?* 

Alchemy-related, maybe? The Silver Key could be an alchemist group. No alchemist worth their salt could resist the lure of the Bork manor experiments—not even Nicolas Flamel could ignore Cohen's existence.

"So… that's all I know…" 

Mundungus ventured cautiously. "If that's it, I'll just… head out, yeah?"

"Hold up. You're not going anywhere."

(End of Chapter)