"Well, it seems Mrs. Weasley was a bit miffed, all those owls making a right mess of the house, you see."
But then, Cohen promised to clean up straight away and herd all the owls into a box, and that seemed to calm Mrs. Weasley down a bit.
"Mum, can I keep this owl?" Ron asked, pointing to a brown-feathered owl next to him. "Cohen gave this one to me."
"What?" Mrs. Weasley looked quite surprised and was about to tell Ron to give it back – owls aren't exactly cheap, after all.
"It's quite alright, Mrs. Weasley," Cohen explained. "My owl, well, he's been a bit too successful with the ladies, twenty-seven of them, and I simply can't afford to keep them all. If I didn't give one to Ron, I'd have to let most of them go anyway."
"Oh... alright then..." Mrs. Weasley seemed a little embarrassed. "What would you like for dinner?"
"Stew and roast would be lovely, thank you for your trouble," Cohen replied.
"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, excitedly stroking his new owl's feathers, only to get a gentle peck in return.
"Naughty," muttered Earl dryly.
"Greedy birds get eaten by little Basilisk," Cohen said with a smirk.
Besides Ron, Cohen was planning to give a few owls to Hermione and the other Weasley children. They couldn't stay cooped up in boxes for too long, as the sheer presence of a dragon and griffins would terrify ordinary owls to death. In the end, Cohen would have to get Arnold to find a way to sell most of them off.
"Oh, I'd really love an owl, but Crookshanks might not be too pleased," Hermione said apologetically.
"Then I'll go ask Fred and George," Cohen offered.
"Ginny would probably love one too," Ron added. "She's always complaining she doesn't have a way to send letters to her friends whenever she wants. How big of a cage do you think I should get for it?"
Fred and George did indeed need an owl, and they insisted on buying one from Cohen rather than taking it for free.
"A gift is a gift, you two. Your Galleons would be better spent on joke supplies," Cohen shook his head. "Besides, you'll have to help me find a way to sell the rest of these owls to a shop in Diagon Alley – if you can find a suitable place, that is..."
"Consider it done!" Fred said cheerfully. "We're practically on first-name terms with half the shops in Diagon Alley by now."
"We'll get you a fantastic price," George chimed in. "And maybe even promote our trick wands while we're at it – speaking of which, I don't think we've ever made one that turns into an owl..."
---
### The Uninvited Guests at Grimmauld Place
As the start of term drew nearer, the Hogwarts letters were still nowhere to be seen. But Cohen was surprised to find Edward and Rose turning up at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place in the final few days.
"We're here as mere bystanders for an old friends' reunion," Edward said easily as he followed Cohen inside. "How are you doing? How's the living situation here... hmmm..."
"Filth! Scum! Spawn of sin and depravity!" Mrs. Black's portrait shrieked open automatically, her drooling, rolling eyes screaming in a truly horrifying tone. "Mudbloods! Freaks! Ugliness! Get out of here! How dare you defile my ancestral home—"
"Quiet, you old hag!" Sirius rushed over, struggling to pull the curtains shut.
"Sorry, Edward, Rose. I've always wanted to get rid of that portrait, but it's stuck to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm," Sirius apologized. "Most of the time, it's kept well and truly shut."
"No wonder Lily said you often stayed at James's," Rose said sympathetically. "I imagine it'd be much the same if I went back to Burke Manor."
"At least there's nothing left there now," Edward remarked.
"Where's Herbert?" Cohen asked. "I thought he'd be here too."
"He's looking for a new place," Edward replied. "No one on Privet Drive wants to move, so he's planning to live here in London."
"Number Thirteen Grimmauld Place is empty; that family sold the house," Sirius said. "Though I think it's because the soundproofing here goes a bit wonky sometimes. That family kept complaining about hearing a banshee's screams. But then, thirteen isn't exactly a lucky number, is it?"
"Number Twelve doesn't seem much luckier than thirteen," Cohen quipped.
"Sometimes I really wish I could just tear this place down and build anew," Sirius sighed. "But the magic here is far too complex; even Dumbledore would take ages to replicate the same protective enchantments."
"Edward! Rose!" Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen, her face beaming as she greeted the Notton couple. "How have you been lately? The Ministry hasn't been bothering you anymore, I hope?"
"They'd have to find us first," Edward raised an eyebrow. "While Cohen was out, they could only see an empty house. Even if they peered through the windows, they wouldn't have seen hide nor hair of me or Rose."
"Arthur says the Ministry's policies are utterly bizarre right now, but it won't last much longer. We all think things will be much less troublesome once old Barty's back in charge..." Mrs. Weasley said. "Come on in, I've got some sweets for you. The meetings usually don't finish until six in the evening, so dinner might be a bit later."
Even though they claimed to be visiting Cohen, they were still allowed to listen in on the meeting when it started that evening.
"Mr. Notton himself said he's just a bystander!" Fred complained unfairly to Mrs. Weasley. "And we're of age! We should be allowed to join too!"
"He was part of the Order of the Phoenix before. This is adult business, children, stay out of it," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "We can discuss this after you've graduated!"
"That's not fair," Fred grumbled after Mrs. Weasley had entered the drawing-room and firmly closed the door. "Yesterday, Lupin himself told us that any witch or wizard of age could apply to join the Order, and we could help fight the Death Eaters."
"You missed a bit," Hermione corrected him. "He said 'witches and wizards who are of age and have completed their schooling.' Dumbledore considers that witches and wizards who haven't finished their studies might not have enough skill yet—"
"Cohen, do you think your dad will tell you what happened in the meeting?" Fred, ignoring Hermione's nagging, asked Cohen hopefully.
"If he thinks it'll put me in danger, then probably not," Cohen said. "He's a bit stubborn, always thinking I'm some fragile child who'll just keel over if I get a bump or a scratch."
"Sounds just like Mum," George sighed. "Mum always acts like we'll drop dead the moment a Death Eater so much as glances at us..."