"If you won't talk, that's fine. I'll just start prying your brain open—"
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" Rita cried out, her face deathly pale. "There's this Norwegian man named Loki—he said he knows how to deal with you…"
"Go on," Cohen said calmly. "What kind of person is he? How did you meet him?"
"He… he's tall and thin, with grey hair," Rita panted. "He wore silver robes—he came to me after I published that interview with you. He said he reads all my articles… so he could tell right away it wasn't written by me. And… he's very handsome…"
"Don't go off on his looks," Cohen said dismissively. "I know you're thirsty, but keep it in your pants—just tell me what he said about me."
"Fine," Rita said with the look of someone being force-fed canned herring. "He told me not to be afraid of you. Said you're nothing more than a freak blended with an Azkaban guard—wait! That's his wording! Not mine!"
"Mhm," Cohen raised a brow.
"He said if you ever tried to hurt me, a Patronus Charm would work, just like with any normal Dementor…" Rita stared at the floor. "He told me to keep digging up dirt on you, to slowly build up your negative image… He'd take care of the rest."
"How many times did you meet with him?" Cohen asked. "How much do you know about him? Did he have accomplices?"
"I never saw anyone else with him—maybe he doesn't have any. But the number of times…" Rita trailed off, blushing fiercely.
"*Hoo hoo hoo.*" came a soft owl hoot from the nest by the bed, where Count was perched.
"…" Cohen had a sudden, sinking realization.
"If you want to find him…" Rita offered, "I can take you. But you have to promise not to hurt me…"
"…Excuse me?"
Cohen looked at her like she had grown a second head, barely suppressing a laugh.
"You want me to promise you something? Old woman, have you completely misunderstood the situation? If you don't talk, I'll just use Legilimency and rip the truth from your mind. The only reason I haven't already is out of basic human decency. So…"
Cohen's tone dropped into something slow and deliberate.
"When exactly did you get to make demands?"
…
As it turned out, Rita was already living with this Loki fellow. A charming, smooth-talking pretty boy could still work wonders on a single woman in her forties—especially one who was also a fan of her work.
Cohen easily got the address to Rita's home. To be honest, with Legilimency in play, most interrogations lost their meaning. Still, Cohen felt that threats and psychological pressure added a certain… satisfaction to the process. Not that it stopped him from double-checking everything with a quick mind read afterward.
Once he confirmed who was backing Rita, Cohen stuffed her back into the jar. She obviously wasn't thrilled, but in the face of a Dementor's Kiss, "unwilling" wasn't really an option.
"That was called 'being dramatic,'" Count said. "Or 'completely unnecessary.'"
"Who asked you? I enjoyed it," Cohen replied. "Admit it—you found it satisfying to watch."
"Not really," Count said dryly. "That Loki guy reminds me of that yellow-feathered owl from three years ago."
"The Wife and Her Useless Husband, huh?" Cohen snorted. "But Rita doesn't even have a husband. If you're drawing those connections, it just means you're too sexually repressed."
"Then buy me a female owl," Count demanded.
"Go find one yourself. There are more owls at Hogwarts than in any pet shop." Cohen shook his head. "Love isn't something you can buy—otherwise, you'd just be a greasy old bird sugar-daddying young owls. And after all these years without a mate, still buying fertility potions… you wouldn't happen to be—"
"Are you going after Loki tonight?" Count interrupted, quickly changing the subject. "If you wait until tomorrow, Rita not coming home might tip him off."
"I get it, but are you really—"
"If you don't go now, he'll be long gone!" Count flung open the window and fluttered outside. "I'll scout ahead—hurry up and follow me!"
"Tsk tsk…" Cohen shook his head.
Still, Count was right. That was the next step.
It was still Christmas break tomorrow anyway. Cohen could sneak out tonight and be back with no one the wiser—unless Dumbledore himself came knocking.
—
Cohen brought Rita along as they left Hogwarts. Since her house was protected by numerous defensive enchantments, Cohen had her guide the way once they arrived nearby. It saved him the trouble of dismantling wards on his own.
But it seemed that a bit of freedom had made Rita forget who was in charge.
"Try Apparating away again and see what happens."
Cohen smiled pleasantly at her.
Before she could even begin to Apparate, Cohen clamped down on her soul.
"Every time you try, I take a bite. Three bites and there'll be nothing left. Honestly, I sometimes feel too kind for a Dementor…"
"…."
Rita didn't speak. But her silence said plenty.
Her home was located in a remote suburb near London—a small, three-story house with grey brick walls, overgrown with dead ivy. The brass nameplate reading "Skeeter Residence" had been scratched up long ago, and Rita never bothered to fix it.
But Cohen could sense no other souls within the house—not behind any wall, not in any corner.
"He's gone," Cohen said.
"No way," Rita replied, clearly confused. "We were supposed to… you know… tonight. And it's not even time yet…"
But when she inserted her key and found the door wasn't even locked, her confusion turned to disbelief.
Both she and Loki always locked the door.
Now, the door was practically ajar, which meant someone had come in. Someone unfamiliar.
"Well, that makes it obvious, doesn't it?" Cohen raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he went off to visit another woman's house…"
"No… that's not it," Rita muttered. Something felt wrong.
The wards she'd placed over the house were gone. And she hadn't even noticed when they were lifted.
Someone had been in the house tonight.