"Don't you dare do anything reckless, Cohen!" Hermione hissed, clutching the sleeve of Cohen's robes as if to prevent him from leaving the dormitory that night. "Don't give her any chance to catch you out – remember what Kingsley said—"
"Relax, I won't get caught," Cohen replied. "Hogwarts Castle has been standing for ages; it's perfectly normal for snakes, cats, or even scorpions to just... appear."
"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" Hermione said with a sigh.
"Cohen, help me dye that disgusting knitted jumper of hers completely green," Ron growled, a fierce look on his face. "My dad told me it was that woman who got Fudge to put our family down as top suspects…"
"That wish sounds exactly like something a student would do," Cohen said, shaking his head. "I've got so many pranks planned; it wouldn't do to expose myself so obviously right off the bat."
"Then—" Harry was about to suggest a few more ways for Cohen to "deal with" their new teacher, but in the next second, a clatter of tables and chairs echoed through the Great Hall.
"Cohen! We need to go show the first-years where to go!" Hermione called out, stopping Cohen, who was about to head back to the common room with Harry and Ron.
"Blast it, I completely forgot about that!" Cohen slapped his forehead. He'd been too busy debating whether to have the old water snake bite Umbridge or the baby basilisk bite her, he'd completely overlooked his prefect duties. "Oi, oi, little 'uns, gather 'round—"
"They're not… 'little 'uns'—what kind of word is that?!" Hermione exclaimed, then turned, addressing the bewildered first-years with stern authority: "First-years of Gryffindor! Follow us! We'll take you to the Gryffindor dormitories!"
"One person could easily handle this job. How about we work shifts? We each do three years—" Cohen had an idea.
"We've only got three years left at Hogwarts ourselves," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "You've certainly got a vivid imagination…"
"See you later then," Harry said, giving Cohen a triumphant smirk as he and Ron scurried off.
Cohen made a face at them.
Guiding the first-years wasn't particularly difficult, given that they were just children – but it wasn't exactly easy either, as someone always managed to get their leg stuck in a trick step, even after being warned to jump over it.
And the task of pulling these new students out of the stairs like Mandrakes from a pot naturally fell to Cohen.
"Are you… Harry Potter's friend?" a blonde boy whispered to Cohen, his eyes full of curiosity, as Cohen helped him free himself from the stairs.
"Are you on bad terms with him?" Cohen asked.
Cohen remembered this boy; he'd heard his name during the Sorting Ceremony: Euan Abercrombie.
"No—no—" Euan quickly waved his hands.
"Then I'm his friend," Cohen stated. "Why do you ask? Are you a Saviour fan too?"
"It's just… do you know if the things he's been saying are true or lies?" Euan asked, his voice hushed. "You know, about… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named coming back—"
"True. Don't believe the Daily Prophet; it never reports anything true," Cohen said.
Euan still looked half-convinced, half-doubtful.
By the time they reached the common room entrance on the eighth floor, there were hardly any students left. The first-years walked terribly slowly, and Hermione had stopped Cohen from trying to make them run.
"I feel like I have absolutely no prefect power," Cohen grumbled. "It's just you doing all the managing."
"You shouldn't run immediately after eating; you should know that, it's not good for your stomach," Hermione said sternly. "Especially since they're so young. You can't have them getting sick on their first day at Hogwarts, can you?"
"Sounds alright," Cohen mused.
That would certainly rack up a lot of evil points…
Hold on, if I'm a prefect now, does that mean…
[Evil Points +10]
[Note: Sometimes I really regret not adding a money-deduction feature to this system]
"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Hermione pronounced the password to the Fat Lady, then turned to the new students and explained, "This is our Gryffindor common room and dormitories. You need to say the correct password to the Fat Lady, and she'll let you in. The password changes every Monday; come to me or Cohen for it then. Understood?"
"Understood!" Compared to Cohen, Hermione's authoritative manner, much like Professor McGonagall's, was far more effective at managing the children.
Slipping into the common room, Cohen didn't see Ron or Harry, so after bidding Hermione farewell, he headed upstairs to his dormitory.
He heard voices from inside just as he reached the door.
"—my mum wouldn't let me come back to Hogwarts…" It was Seamus's voice.
"Why?" Harry's voice.
"Probably because of you… I suppose…" Seamus's voice sounded hesitant.
"Creeaak—" Cohen pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Not asleep yet? Planning a late-night raid on the toad's office?" Cohen asked.
"So she believed the Daily Prophet, thinks I'm a liar, and Dumbledore's a senile old fool?" Harry asked Seamus bluntly.
"Yeah," Seamus said, looking up at Harry. "That's pretty much it."
"So you and your mum just believed that newspaper?" Cohen raised an eyebrow. "The one that said Fudge was the most reliable Minister Britain ever had? Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
"Don't you dare badmouth my mum!" Seamus snapped angrily at Cohen. "Maybe you don't know, but our Headmaster's already been sacked by the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards! Because he's losing his mind—"
"Rubbish," Ron cut in. "You don't know anything—"
"Ron." Harry pulled Ron back, stopping him just before he blurted out something about the Order of the Phoenix. "Watch it."
"I'm not badmouthing anyone. I'm just saying that newspaper isn't reliable, and normal people don't believe unreliable things," Cohen said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Which means you're actually admitting your mum—"
"Don't you talk to me like that!" Seamus furiously reached for the wand in his pocket. "And don't you talk about my mum like that!"
But Cohen was faster.
Cohen's wand was pointed at Seamus first. With a flick, Seamus's wand flew out of his hand and landed amongst a pile of clutter.
"Strictly speaking, a student of your calibre isn't in a position to shout at me." Cohen stated coolly. "Remember? I'm a prefect. Unless you fancy detention, don't point your wand at me. I can't promise I'll control the urge to hit you with a nasty curse."
"…" Seamus didn't bother picking up his wand. He just stood there, trembling with rage, staring at Cohen.
"Alright, time for bed," Cohen said, putting away his wand. "Whether you believe it or not is your own business."
He still had to take a snake for a stroll around the castle later, and Cohen didn't want to drag it out and pull an all-nighter.
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