"Your methods of killing have indeed matured considerably..."
the Earl muttered in his sleep.
"Shut up, go drink your wine," Cohen said irritably.
Taking advantage of Lockhart's apparent failure and preparation to return to his office, Cohen left his body in the Room of Requirement and then his soul left his body, floating directly to the third floor.
Lockhart had already returned to his office, and Cohen followed behind him, keeping watch—perhaps Lockhart had a small mirror imbued with Voldemort's soul, or perhaps he had secretly hidden a snake-faced, ugly baby version of Voldemort in a box.
Cohen waited there until the school bell rang, but Lockhart didn't do anything wrong.
Although Lockhart's hands were trembling and his face was deathly pale, looking like he was about to be punished by his boss for failing his mission, his behavior was perfectly normal: writing replies to fans, looking for the flashy robes to wear to the banquet, admiring his own handsome photos...
what a narcissist!
Lockhart's behavior was definitely suspicious, but Voldemort hadn't shown up yet, and Cohen guessed they might be plotting at night—villains always liked to discuss their secret plans at night.
So Cohen planned to come back and keep watch that night.
After Herbology class, there was a dinner party, and Cohen ran into Harry and the others on his way to the Great Hall.
"He thought we drove to school to fight him for the front page of the Daily Prophet," Harry complained about Lockhart's troublemaking.
"But you guys did get the front page because of that, from an outsider's perspective, that's definitely how it looks—" Hermione defended Lockhart, when suddenly she saw Cohen blending into the crowd. "Cohen! Why were you missing the whole class?"
"Because I went to the bathroom. Skipping class is part of every student's experience—but that's not the point. Were you just talking about Lockhart?" Cohen changed the subject.
"We were discussing why Lockhart is staring at Harry," Ronka said in the middle. "We guess he's fallen for Harry, and Hermione's jealous. That's the conclusion of our discussion—"
"Ron!" Hermione interrupted Ron impatiently. "I just think we should give the new professor some trust!"
"Yeah, 'trust'," Ron said jealously. "I bet he's just a big shot with a reputation. We'll see after his first lesson."
"Don't be silly, Ron. You've all read his books—think about all the amazing things he's done." Hermione still held a sliver of unrealistic hope for Lockhart.
"I feel like I shouldn't have interrupted…" Harry whispered to Cohen—who had already distanced himself from Ron and Hermione.
"Just watch, be careful not to get caught in the crossfire," Cohen cautioned. "I bet Ron's next move will be to compare you to Lockhart—"
"Harry would definitely teach better than him!" Ron declared. "Whether it's reputation or ability, he doesn't seem as good as… Harry…"
"Incomprehensible!" Hermione stormed off.
"Are you a prophet?!" Harry exclaimed in shock.
"Why did you run so far—did you hear what she just said?" Ron shook his head, searching for Cohen and Harry. "Lockhart's like he's drugged her! I don't understand why girls like Lockhart so much…"
"Boys like him too," Cohen said rationally, pointing to a fourth-year student who had just walked past them, clutching a bunch of Lockhart posters.
Cohen recognized the man—it was this guy who took him to the headmaster's office last year, and then Cohen got a waiver of flying lessons.
"We're in England, after all, it makes sense…" Cohen nodded.
"Merlin's briefs…"
Ron's expression twisted.
"Disgusting."
The word "disgusting" could also be used to describe Lockhart at the dinner party; he was dressed in a riot of colors, looking like a peacock courting a mate.
None of the professors at the faculty table had a good look on their faces—Cohen knew that feeling, humiliation, pure humiliation.
He didn't know what was going on at the other tables, but the Gryffindor boys couldn't eat much.
"I can't stand it," Ron put down his knife and fork.
"I'm full." Harry couldn't eat anymore after finishing a sausage.
"I'm going back to sleep." Cohen just wanted to see what Voldemort was up to.
The three of them left early—after returning to the common room, Cohen went straight to his dormitory, while Harry and Ron wanted to play a little longer in the common room. Harry had bought a new set of Goblin stones (a pinball game where stones spray a foul-smelling liquid in the face of the person who loses) during the summer vacation.
Cohen threw his body onto the bed, his soul drifting towards Lockhart's office.
"I refuse to believe I can't catch you, you noseless brat, after a whole night of this," Cohen thought viciously.
After the dinner party, Lockhart returned to his office briskly—Cohen watched his every move.
Cohen had initially thought he'd have to keep an eye on him for hours, but things progressed faster than he anticipated.
After changing out of his colorful robes studded with feathers, Lockhart pulled out Voldemort—he took a self-portrait from behind his desk and placed it face down on the table.
A face appeared on the back of the painting, which should have been empty—Voldemort really liked sticking to the backs of all sorts of things.
[Soul Strength: 40+10]
Cohen was somewhat surprised that Quirrell's stolen soul strength was still attached to Voldemort's soul.
"I didn't see the crown…you couldn't get in…" Voldemort said menacingly, "You know the consequences of failure…"
"I did as you said!" Lockhart said anxiously and fearfully, "You can't—you won't really attack me, will you? I'm a third-class Merlin Order member…"
"Who cares what award you're some worthless piece of trash!" Voldemort said viciously, "You can fool fools…you're planning to fool yourself too? If my plan fails, everything you have will disappear—your reputation, your wealth, and…your life…"
Lockhart shuddered.
"But if I succeed—"
"You will be rewarded…" Voldemort coaxed, "Those powers you wrote in your books…but can't prove…I can teach you…"
"Fine, fine…" Lockhart convinced himself to continue, "I ran into that Cohen Norton again today…he's acting strangely—first he skipped class, then he went to the eighth-floor corridor…since you've worked with him before, why did you tell me not to tell him you were here this time?"
"Because he's part of the plan…" Voldemort said in a low voice.
"Damn, Voldemort is a Wallfacer too?"
Cohen was a bit taken aback.
But now it seemed Voldemort was indeed a master of ideas, and Cohen was eager to hear what new ideas he had.
"Is it because he occupied that room?" Lockhart asked suspiciously, "How would he know about the Room of Requirement?"
"He's a gifted bad seed, much smarter than you..." Voldemort wasn't surprised by this result, "He's very important to me... Since we can't find the diadem... let's move on to the next step of the plan..."
"We need to open the secret chamber... I'll teach you how..."
"After the Basilisk attack... write Cohen's name on the wall..."
Huh?!
Cohen's eyes widened.
No, what had he done to deserve this?
A setup! This was blatant framing!
Little Voldemort's hands and mouth weren't exactly clean!
Perhaps Voldemort's plan was indeed very mysterious.
But unfortunately, Cohen was one step ahead—Voldemort couldn't guess that Cohen was eavesdropping.
If it were simply a Mudblood purge plan at school, Cohen might have pretended to help, giving Voldemort some emotional value.
But now Voldemort dares to joke around with Cohen and create these suspenseful plots...
Cohen can only say he's chosen a less-than-ideal path; he's determined to stir up this mess.
We're all immortal beings, so who's afraid of who? Let's just tear each other apart—
wait, Voldemort doesn't have hair at all.
Firecrackers went off from dawn till afternoon today; I almost died from exhaustion—may there be no firecrackers in heaven. Sorry, only two chapters today, sob sob
Read 50+ chapters ahead at p4treon...
[email protected]/Horizons685
(End of Chapter)