"Burke Manor?" Ern asked doubtfully.
"I have a distant cousin in jail there, I'm going to visit him," Cohen said. "Isn't that kind of humane?"
"Indeed—" Ern said with relief, "Almost no one goes there. Last time it was a Ministry of Magic employee doing a routine inspection..."
After the bus started moving, Cohen felt that it wasn't just the conductor who needed replacing.
The driver, Ern Plain, was about the same age as the conductor, Tucker, and wore thick glasses, looking like a shriveled walnut.
He was practically incapable of driving—because the bus was recklessly swerving, and if it weren't for the magic that allowed all Muggle buildings to avoid it, everyone on board would have perished.
The erratic, erratic speed made the journey dizzying and nauseous, and even Cohen, who was usually resistant to motion sickness, was still nauseated by the ride.
Cohen felt like he was about to vomit up the soul and pleasure he had ingested—
and what was worse, he would have to take this bus back.
"..."
After an unknown amount of time, following a sudden stop, Cohen stepped off the bus, his face ashen.
The Knight Bus stopped at the edge of the woods outside Burke Manor.
Cohen shook his head, finally feeling solid ground beneath his feet.
This bus had truly accomplished something no other vehicle could—it had successfully stunned a Dementor.
Cohen carried his suitcase through the woods and saw that familiar wooden cabin again—why did it feel like there were so many wooden cabins in the magical world? The one in his suitcase was a wooden cabin, his original father's house was a wooden cabin, and Hagrid's house was also a wooden cabin.
Was the whole world just a giant wooden cabin?
The atmosphere suddenly became philosophical.
This time, Cohen wouldn't need to clean up any traces after his visit—in Dumbledore and Edward's eyes, Cohen already knew about his origins, so his visit was perfectly legitimate.
Cohen stopped abruptly before even leaving the inner circle of the woods.
Two unfamiliar wizards emerged from Herbert's cabin and Apparated away after a loud bang.
Were they there for a routine check? He wondered what had become of the two Aurors who had died earlier—the Ministry of Magic probably couldn't track them down and could only list them as missing.
They hadn't actually come for a routine check; they'd just happened to be passing by and noticed the snow on the ruins had been cleared, so they'd come down to check.
After the two unfamiliar wizards left, Cohen emerged from the woods and knocked on Herbert's door.
"What, not satisfied with just being humiliated, you're going to steal my dinner—" Herbert angrily opened the door.
"Were you bullied?" Cohen asked curiously.
Herbert looked no different than he had at Christmas; he looked at Cohen—as if he had suddenly become speechless.
"Who were those two just now? What did they do to you?" Cohen squeezed into the room from beside Herbert. "Should I help you get revenge—"
"You're here—ah, no, don't—no need—" Herbert quickly waved his hand. "Don't mess with them… I don't want to see you because of me…"
Herbert closed the door, the shackles and chains on his hands clanging.
"Why did you suddenly… come back? I didn't have time to prepare—" Herbert said awkwardly. Everything here was exactly the same as last time—even the fact that he "didn't prepare any gifts for his son" was exactly the same.
"Oh! Wait a minute—" Herbert's eyes suddenly lit up. "I made you a birthday present—"
He groped under the old wooden bed and finally found a small trinket among a pile of junk.
A small wooden figurine, which looked rather crude—but it was the only material Herbert could find.
It was a little boy, though no face was carved.
"I was afraid that if I carved something ugly, it would upset you…" Herbert carefully handed it to Cohen, "so I didn't carve a face…"
"It's quite cute, I'll put it by my bedside."
Cohen happily accepted the gift.
"I came here to see you—and to share some things with you, so that I can feel more like a human being."
"You are human," Herbert corrected, "the best child in the world."
"That's what parents say about their children," Cohen said.
Herbert smiled, looking much younger—he was only forty-nine this year, but before he looked like he was over sixty.
"Do you want to hear good news or bad news from my life?" Cohen stuffed the wooden carving into his pocket, a gesture that showed more importance than stuffing it into a trunk or the camel skin pouch hanging at his waist.
This would touch Herbert's heart.
Cohen didn't quite like this way of thinking of his—it was as if all his actions were calculated against others, as if he were instinctively manipulating people's hearts.
This made "love" and "humanity" somewhat hollow.
"Bad news?" Herbert asked nervously.
"I ran into Voldemort at the end of the term," Cohen said. "He asked me to steal the Philosopher's Stone for him, and everyone else knows that—but you've been here the whole time, so I guess you haven't heard."
"!"
Upon hearing Voldemort's name, Herbert shuddered, not even bothering to ask why the Philosopher's Stone was at Hogwarts.
"Did he hurt you?" Herbert anxiously leaned closer to check if Cohen was injured or had any traces of dark magic—he had even forgotten that Cohen himself was a creation of dark magic.
"It wasn't exactly an injury. He threw a Killing Curse at me, but it didn't work," Cohen said. "You know, Dementors don't die—so you don't need to worry about my safety."
"That's good…" Herbert breathed a sigh of relief. "So… any good news?"
"Yes, my soul left my body," Cohen said. "After being hit by the Killing Curse, Dumbledore asked Nicolas Flamel for help—and guess what, I got the Philosopher's Stone, and Nicolas Flamel is even planning to teach me some alchemy."
"He also told me something—about the success of the 'Man in a Bottle,' and why I was able to be so different from all the other test subjects in history." Cohen looked at Herbert, trying to understand the key factor that Nicolas Flamel was referring to that influenced the entire experiment's outcome.
"He said I had something extra."
"What extra?" Herbert's gaze met Cohen's.
"'Love',"
Cohen said. "During that experiment, only one person felt that way about me."
Cohen hadn't found any memories of crucial magic in Herbert's past, but he refused to believe that simple "love" could sway the outcome of alchemy.
Even Lily's love for Harry required the "Sacrifice Protection" spell.
So there was only one possibility: Herbert had hidden that memory.
"…"
Herbert seemed to know something.
"I just want you to live."
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(End of Chapter)