Hogwarts, i am Dementor

"Northumberland, in some manor—tsk tsk tsk, you could hear the souls screaming from a hundred miles away."

Earl recalled the old days, letting out a mocking *tsk tsk*.

"No one dares live there now—but for you, it'd probably feel like going home. Notice how 'never-lived' and 'homeland' rhyme in my last two sentences? Pretty hilarious—"

"Shut up already," Cohen sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll sneak out at Christmas to check it out. Mom and Dad aren't taking me anywhere for the holidays anyway…"

Northumberland was just three miles from the Scottish Highlands. Cohen figured he could fly there—hopefully without being spotted. Muggles couldn't see Dementors, so at worst, he'd spook a few wizards who glimpsed a Dementor in the sky…

The day before Halloween, their Charms class hit a historic milestone.

After Cohen had already tested a slew of spells on his own, his classmates were finally learning their first one.

"See? I told you homework's useless," Cohen whispered to Harry during class. "It's the most evil invention ever."

"Agreed," Harry nodded enthusiastically.

Since their escape from the three-headed dog, Hermione had barely spoken to Harry or Ron—so when she got stuck sitting next to Ron, she didn't look thrilled.

"Alright, don't forget that subtle wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, perched atop his stack of books.

"Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. Pronunciation's just as crucial—don't be like Wizard Baruffio, who swapped an 'f' for an 's' and ended up flat on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

The practical was done in pairs. Cohen lucked out with Neville as his partner—at least Neville was better than Seamus, who was next to Harry. Cohen didn't have to worry about his feather exploding.

He'd mastered this spell after just a few tries at home, so he'd always assumed magical practice was easy.

But for other young wizards, even saying the incantation right seemed tough.

"Wingardium Leviosa…"

His partner Neville had chanted it over a hundred times, but the feather in front of him still wouldn't budge.

"Please, do *something*…" Neville groaned.

It looked like he'd rather summon a buffalo like Baruffio than flail his wand around like a Muggle.

"You forgot the gesture," Cohen said kindly, noticing Neville was just reciting the words without moving his wand-holding hand at all.

"Oh—oh…" Neville stammered nervously, starting to wave his wand in the air to recall the motion.

[Ding! Goodwill Value +1]

Next table over, Ron and Hermione's group was a classic trainwreck—

"You said it wrong," Hermione snapped at Ron without hesitation. "It's Win-*gar*-dium Levi-*o*-sa, not Wingardium Levio-*sa*. The 'gar' needs to be long and clear."

"If you're so clever, you try it," Ron growled, his face heating up.

"No idea what's going on—nobody's bleeding five stacks deep, but someone's raging like they are," Cohen quipped.

"What's 'raging'?" Neville asked, puzzled. "Is it part of the spell?"

Cohen jerked his chin toward Ron, signaling Neville not to miss it. Ron's face looked like it was on fire.

Having just corrected Ron, Hermione rolled up her sleeves, waved her wand, and said: 

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her spell worked on the first try—the feather floated up from the table.

Now Ron's face didn't just look like it was burning—it looked ready to explode.

For the rest of the class, Cohen successfully taught Neville how to cast properly. Ron ended up one of the few kids who couldn't get their feather to float.

The more anxious you get, the easier it is to trip over yourself.

It wasn't until near the end of class, with his mood at rock bottom, that Ron finally met the lesson's requirement.

"Thanks, Cohen…" Neville said repeatedly as they packed up after class. "I'd have been stuck in detention otherwise…"

"You were just too nervous. Your spell and movements were solid," kindhearted Cohen reassured him.

[Ding! Goodwill Value +5]

Cohen swore he wasn't being nice just for the goodwill points.

"Oh, Neville, don't wait for me. Quirrell's roped me into something next period—if Professor Sprout asks, cover for me."

The other young wizards had already packed up and headed to their next class. Cohen dawdled with his bag, tossing a heads-up to Neville.

He'd spend the rest of the afternoon luring a troll into the school.

With Earl leading the way, Cohen quickly flew to the mountainous area north of the Forbidden Forest and found a troll lair built from rounded stones.

"I can't believe I'm guiding a Dementor to a troll's nest," Earl said, perched on a "rock" ahead of Cohen, who'd switched out of Dementor form—he didn't want to scare the troll off. "God's gotta be freaking nuts."

"No clue if God's nuts, but you definitely are."

Cohen eyed the black "rock" under Earl's feet with awe, stepping back a bit.

"What—damn it!" Earl flapped his wings and shot into the air.

"No coming into the Room of Requirement or Gryffindor Tower until you're clean," Cohen ordered.

"How the hell am I supposed to wash my own claws?!" Earl shot back. "Can't you just zap me with a spell?"

After dealing with Earl, Cohen started setting up his troll trap.

Taking a page from Newt's book, he'd scavenged a beat-up, peeling suitcase from the Room of Requirement's junk pile, casting an Undetectable Extension Charm and a Strengthening Charm on it. While rummaging, he'd also found "Ravenclaw's Diadem" hidden in the trash heap.

The soul fragment in that Horcrux was only 20 strength—Cohen just needed a tiny boost to eat it—so he stashed it in his "Cohen Base" in the Room of Requirement.

Everything was going smoothly. Cohen opened the suitcase at the troll's cave entrance and transfigured the ground into slick marble—any troll stepping out would slide right in.

Then he ventured into the dark cave.

The troll's snores rumbled faintly from deep inside, a mix of stench and mold wafting through the air. Cohen took one step in and immediately regretted it.

"Bombarda!"

(End of Chapter)