After eating their fill, the first-year Wizards began to seek out various topics.
When the conversation turned to their respective families, everyone seemed to have endless stories to tell.
Seamus recounted how his Muggle father was scared witless when his Wizard mother revealed her identity—Cohen felt Edward was probably similar, after all, his tasks were cooking, grocery shopping, and playing Dungeons and Dragons, not much different from a Muggle.
The only difference he might have from a Muggle was that when he rolled a critical failure (1 point) in a board game, he secretly had to use magic to alter the dice roll—Cohen suddenly understood why Edward always won when they played Ludo.
"What about you, Cohen?" Seamus asked curiously.
"Me?" Cohen raised his eyebrows, "My parents didn't tell me they were Wizards until my birthday—I'm adopted, and they originally thought I was a Muggle—"
Actually, Cohen felt that Edward and Rose definitely knew his identity—Dumbledore had said it was their choice, and adopting a monster from a Dark Arts laboratory certainly required immense courage.
Cohen cherished this family bond and did not wish for it to be destroyed by someone or something.
Now that he was at Hogwarts, the original plan had to be put on the agenda.
Cohen's gaze swept across the house tables and landed on the teachers' table.
Quirrell, easily distinguishable by the purple turban on his head, was currently conversing with Snape beside him, his back of the head facing the students.
Snape's attention was not on Quirrell at all, but fixed intently on Harry, who was next to Cohen.
【Soul Strength: 9 (Incomplete) / 25】
【Soul Strength: 40+8】
Quirrell's original soul strength was a full 25 points, it seemed a large portion had been absorbed by Lord Voldemort, who was stuck to the back of his head, with half of it added to Lord Voldemort's soul strength.
From this perspective… Lord Voldemort's soul fragment and his main body's shattered soul both maintained a very stable value—40.
What was the principle behind this? How high must Lord Voldemort's original soul strength have been for even the fragmented souls to be a full 40 points?
Or was it that… the souls split by a Horcrux were not calculated by simple addition and subtraction?
However, this was not bad news for Cohen, because Lord Voldemort couldn't piece his soul back together, so to Cohen, he would always be one or eight elite monsters with 40 points of soul strength.
So then… the sin value earning plan shall begin tomorrow!
After eating their fill, drinking, and enjoying dessert, Dumbledore gave the new students many school rules to pay attention to.
"First-year students, please note, the forest area on the school grounds is forbidden to all students. Some of our older students also need to pay close attention to this point."
Dumbledore's sparkling eyes specifically glanced towards the Weasley Brothers.
"Also, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, asked me to remind everyone not to use magic in the corridors between classes."
"The Quidditch player tryouts will be held in the second week of this term…"
"Finally, I must tell everyone, those who do not wish to encounter accidental, painful deaths, please do not enter the corridor on the right side of the fourth-floor corridor."
Harry burst into laughter, but only a few people laughed like that, causing Harry to ask Cohen, as if seeking his opinion:
"He's not serious, is he?"
"You know, to make people go somewhere, you first have to declare that place off-limits…" Cohen whispered to Harry.
Cohen, of course, knew what was hidden in that fourth-floor corridor—
The Philosopher's Stone, the legendary alchemical creation capable of transmuting base metals into gold and granting eternal life.
To put it bluntly, Cohen wanted this thing.
Money wasn't the main thing.
And actually, he didn't really need eternal life—because Cohen strongly suspected he wouldn't die of old age anyway.
No one had ever heard of Dementors having an old or young distinction, and after Cohen's brief attempt, even without a physical body, he could float his entire soul out of his body and find another body—though this act was a bit too dark.
Cohen always insisted he was a positive and good monster—no matter the world, good people always lived more comfortably in the early stages.
But Cohen desperately needed to know if the Philosopher's Stone could repair souls.
After all, human souls age, just as a young Wizard's soul constantly grows.
Overcoming immortality is not just about the demise of the physical body, but also the disintegration of the soul.
If the Philosopher's Stone could truly repair Cohen's soul, then Cohen could steal far fewer lollipops, and the children of Hogwarts would give him many good reviews.
After Dumbledore finished introducing the school rules and led the students in a scattered rendition of the school song, it was finally time to return to the dorms.
The Gryffindor first-years were led by Percy through various moving staircases and secret passages hidden behind tapestries, finally arriving at the common room entrance.
A portrait hung there, depicting a very plump woman dressed in pink.
"Password?"
The Fat Lady asked.
"Dragon Slag," Percy said.
The Fat Lady's painting slowly opened like a door, revealing a circular opening.
Cohen suspected that Gryffindor only accepted brave students because brave students liked to run around and thus wouldn't get too fat—otherwise, they wouldn't be able to get back to their dorms and would have to sleep on the floor outside.
The Gryffindor common room was a comfortable, circular room, filled with plush armchairs, and a roaring fire crackled in the fireplace.
This environment was perfect for sitting here and having afternoon tea on an afternoon without classes—especially in winter.
But Cohen couldn't care less about that now; he was very sleepy, physically sleepy, his eyelids fighting each other.
Now he just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until the end of the world.
"Harry Potter and the Drowsy Dementor" (The End)
Harry, Cohen, Ron, and Seamus were sorted into the same dorm, and their luggage had already been brought in, including the Horned Owl, which was already excitedly biting its cage.
"Let me out quickly! The nightlife is about to begin! Hurry, hurry!"
Count urged excitedly when he saw Cohen.
"And that Harry Potter, your owl told me she wants to admire the Scottish Highlands today—"
"Is he smitten with Hedwig?" Ron asked Cohen.
"He's not smitten, he's a pervert."
Cohen commented.
"No! Did you guys hear that?! The owl spoke!" Seamus shrieked, covering his mouth.
"Hmm." Cohen opened Count's cage and, yawning widely, burrowed into his covers.
"Hmm." Harry was also full of sleepiness, but still opened Hedwig's cage as per Count's request, then burrowed into his covers.
"Hmm." Ron, accustomed to such things, helped open the window, letting the two birds fly out for their date.
Hedwig looked like she had been tricked by a scoundrel, after all, Count had only thought about field mice before—only wild owls eat field mice, and wild owls that have lived for hundreds of years certainly have many mates.
—
Count soared through the night with Hedwig, fluttering up and down beside her, muttering something:
"You smell so good, what brand of perfume do you use?"
"Your wings are so beautiful, let's compare sizes?"
"Your eyes are so lovely…"
"Can we not go back tonight?"
"It's so late and so far, how will we get back, why don't we go to the owlery?"
"Let me touch—"
Suddenly, a red feather, moving in a strange way, landed precisely on Count's head as he was flirting with the utterly indifferent Hedwig.
"Hoo-hoo—hoo!"
Count's eyes suddenly became alert, as if he understood something.
A flash of fire, and the noisy owl vanished into thin air.
Hedwig was puzzled for a moment, circling in place a few times, unable to find Count, then turned and flew towards the Gryffindor tower—at least Harry's owl treats were tastier than this strange owl's field mice.
