"Puff—"
A strange sound escaped the Sorting Hat, like the deflating sound of a popped balloon.
"Ha, child, I can see you're kind—hmm..."
The Sorting Hat's voice was low, like it was coaxing a cat about to give a shove to a wobbly glass of water on the corner of the table.
"Hmm… very shrewd, and ambitious, perhaps Slytherin—" "
Gurgle, gurgle." Cohen made hungry noises with his mouth.
"Oh—I suddenly feel that as a… uh—'special' child, being able to bravely enroll is also a… brave thing—" The Sorting Hat twisted its head a few times and whispered awkwardly.
Cohen was very satisfied with the Sorting Hat's second decision.
He wouldn't have to be hunted by Rose—
"Gryffindor!"
the Sorting Hat shouted in a hoarse, trembling voice.
On the way to Gryffindor, Cohen gave Harry a cheering gesture to the sparsely populated group.
Cohen even adjusted his position so that his gesture, brimming with the young wizard's friendship and goodwill, would be seen by Dumbledore in the teachers' booth.
It was a perfect combo.
Cohen felt he was becoming increasingly adept at being a healthy, sunny, and positive half-Dementor.
After taking his seat, Cohen began to observe Harry's sorting.
However, because the Sorting Hat spoke to the young wizard in extremely low voices, Cohen couldn't hear the tug-of-war between them.
Watching a nearly motionless pantomime wasn't exactly entertaining.
"It's so hard to guess, which Gryffindor will Harry be sorted into?"
"Gryffindor!"
The Sorting Hat announced, and the hall fell silent for a second.
The next second, a deafening cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, as if threatening to blow the roof off Hogwarts.
Harry, legs slightly trembling, walked to the Gryffindor table.
The Weasley twins were shouting, "We've got a Potter! We've got a Potter!" Percy stood up as Harry passed and gave Harry a firm handshake, as if he were meeting some important international figure.
The other Gryffindors were also expressing their joy in various ways, the scene so chaotic that the Sorting Hat had to shout out the next person's house before the Great Hall could finally quiet down.
Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, but only his brothers offered congratulations.
"That scared me..." Harry, sitting next to Cohen, was still reeling from the shock.
"I almost got sorted into Slytherin. Calm down." Cohen rubbed his hands, already picking up his knife and fork, waiting for his food to appear.
"You're like that too?!" Harry leaned over and whispered, a look of surprise only Cohen could hear.
"Huh? It said Slytherin first, but I refused because Rose would come after me." Cohen knew Harry was still deeply concerned about the Sorting Hat's initial decision.
Children always feel uneasy about being alone, but if they find someone else walking with them, that uneasiness is replaced by the security of companionship.
This was clearly the case with Harry.
"Huh..."
Harry seemed relieved.
The Sorting Hat's first decision wasn't entirely correct—in Harry's eyes, Cohen had nothing in common with the evil houses like Slytherin.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore beamed at the students, arms wide open, as if nothing could make him happier than seeing them gathered.
"Welcome everyone to Hogwarts to start the new school year! Before the feast begins, I'd like to say a few words: Idiots! Crybabies! Scum! Twist!"
This phrase symbolized the prejudices each house held against the others—perhaps a completely useless reminder from Dumbledore, or perhaps a joke.
As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, a sumptuous meal appeared on the table before them.
Aside from some of the less-than-ideal British cuisine, most of the food at Hogwarts was delicious.
After all, making something like pork chop or beef taste unpalatable wasn't easy, especially since the cooks at Hogwarts were house-elves, possessing extensive and sophisticated culinary experience.
But Cohen felt like something was missing.
Was there something about Hogwarts that should have been there long ago?
"Never mind, let's eat."
Just as Cohen was about to turn his attention back to the food and was about to take a bite of the large lamb leg on the plate in front of him, a man's voice, in pain, emanated from the table in front of him.
And Cohen sensed something strange about the lamb leg.
Why did the lamb leg, even with the spicy sauce, taste sweet...?!
Cohen instantly understood what had gone into his stomach along with the lamb.
A phantom, pearl-colored ghost wearing a ruff, leaped out from the table.
[Soul Strength: 10]
Near the other colleges, ghosts emerged from under tables and through walls, causing the freshmen to gasp in fear.
All the ghosts possessed a uniform Soul Strength of 10, leading Cohen to suspect this was the minimum threshold for a normal adult wizard's soul—Cohen had indeed never seen an adult wizard with a Soul Strength below 10.
The ghost whose head Cohen had bitten a bite floated above the table, clutching its head. Muttering something like, "Should have listened to the Headmaster and stayed away...", it stole a cautious glance at Cohen.
Cohen recognized the figure—"Nearly Headless Nick"—because his head looked precarious.
Dumbledore must have specifically warned the ghosts not to approach Cohen.
No wonder the ghosts, who should have met the freshmen much earlier, had delayed their appearance until now—but Cohen felt that showing up during dinner seemed like a worse idea, like the Nearly Headless Nick whose head Cohen had nearly chopped off in one bite.
But Nick said nothing—Cohen had already eaten it, so how could he be expected to vomit it out?
Due to Dumbledore's instructions, he couldn't reveal Cohen's Dementor identity to avoid alarming the students. So, Nick introduced himself to the freshmen from as far away from Cohen as possible.
"I know who you are! Nearly Headless Nick!"
Ron slapped his head as Nick introduced himself, remembering the Gryffindor ghost his brothers had mentioned.
"I think I'd prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington—"
"But why are you 'Nearly Headless'?"
Under repeated questioning from the tawny-haired Seamus Finnigan, Nick impatiently pulled down his head, which had a fresh cut on the top—it had been gnawed by Cohen.
Cohen was so absorbed in his meal that he didn't even look up at the severed neck that "appetized" him.
"Like this,"
Nick said dryly.
It was clear that Nick didn't want to discuss the topic. After all, in the boring world of ghosts, Nick's broken head was a rare source of ridicule—and Nick couldn't argue with that, since he couldn't really play ghost bowling with his head.
He was still quite satisfied with the young wizards' reactions, though. Ghosts loved to scare people, so they could pretend they were still alive.
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(End of Chapter)