Chapter 122 Who the hell is the Dark Lord?!
He did indeed run away, and he ran incredibly fast.
"Is the Philosopher's Stone still with you?"
Voldemort felt that saying this was pointless—the Philosopher's Stone had definitely been taken by Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.
"Yes,"
Cohen said,
"Nicolas Flamel gave me the Philosopher's Stone."
"????"
Voldemort looked at Cohen in utter bewilderment.
Was this even English?
Nicolas Flamel gave his life-saving Philosopher's Stone to an evil dark magic experiment subject who followed the Dark Lord and stole things from the school?
How could he have such a dream…
"Give it to you?" Voldemort asked, his surprise mixed with longing.
"Because you ran away!" Cohen said angrily, "Could I let the Philosopher's Stone, which I had worked so hard to obtain, fall into their hands? No! So I grabbed the Philosopher's Stone and instantly refined it—" "
So the Philosopher's Stone was…" Voldemort's mood was gradually cooling—he felt his emotions were fluctuating wildly today.
"I've completely taken advantage of you," Cohen said, quite dissatisfied. "But it's useless to me anyway; I wasn't going to die anyway."
"Nicolas Flamel didn't intend to alchemize you?" Voldemort asked.
He had extensive knowledge in the magical realm, and alchemy was naturally familiar to him.
How could a master alchemist at the pinnacle of his art let go of an alchemical creation like Cohen, especially one who had stolen his Philosopher's Stone?
"That's what I told you before: learn to play the good guy," Cohen instructed. "In my situation, everyone wants me on their side—if I hadn't left you and Quirrell with a backup plan last year to kill me, they certainly wouldn't have so readily given up the Philosopher's Stone. Before you've fully matured, you must know how to conceal your strength…"
Who
the Dark Lord is?!
Voldemort, watching Cohen's lecture-like manner, felt his head was about to explode—even though he was headless now.
Especially that last sentence, it sounded so much like something an old man would say.
"You see, this way we'll be in the open and in the shadows, we'll succeed no matter what," Cohen said. "However, your escape as a war criminal has caused me a lot of trouble. I need to find a way to extract the magic of the Philosopher's Stone from your blood, and then create a body for you..."
It was clear that Voldemort was so moved by Cohen's wholehearted desire to resurrect him that he was speechless.
"But that's all in the future. Nicolas Flamel's inheritance won't be available until the year after next." Cohen shook his head. "If you want me to create a body for you with my own blood, you'll have to wait more than a year."
"More than a year? I've already waited eleven years. What's one more year…" Voldemort's eyes were filled with undisguised longing when he heard that Cohen was going to create a body for him with his own blood. "But… do you really want to resurrect me?"
Cohen
felt he needed to give Voldemort a little more brainwashing.
"Of course, you have a big name," Cohen said matter-of-factly. "Think about it, how much of a commotion can we make in the wizarding world? A dark wizard who once terrorized Britain for so many years, and now with the addition of an undead Dementor, the whole world is ours to conquer—I want to liberate my fellow Dementors. This summer, I went to Azkaban, following the location you gave me, and went in to see my kind. They were living too simply; I couldn't stand it."
"If it were just a little Dementor like me, with no fame or influence, I certainly couldn't have done all this," Cohen said. "But with you, it's different, Mr. Voldemort. As long as you reappear, all my plans can proceed smoothly. In turbulent times, what can shake the old man's rule the most is your resurrection. The entire wizarding world will be uneasy, desperately needing a ruler who can give the people a sense of security…"
Cohen was right, and Voldemort didn't object to this—they each got what they needed. That was the difference between Voldemort and the hypocritical, high-sounding Ministry of Magic in Cohen's eyes.
As for what happens after his resurrection… Voldemort has his own plans.
Wizards' magic comes from blood and soul—once he obtains a body infused with Cohen's blood, how can Dumbledore possibly stop his return?
Not to mention Cohen, who follows him wholeheartedly, a creature even the Death Curse couldn't kill—that foolish old man Dumbledore actually thinks Cohen will be on their side—how ridiculous!
Just imagining Dumbledore's expression after his resurrection gave Voldemort a thrill—
"So, getting back to the point, let's start the killing today. Who are you planning to kill next?"
Cohen asked.
"I think it's best to kill the children of wizards with a lot of influence in the wizarding world—like the children of Ministry of Magic officials. That way, Dumbledore will fall much faster. Nobody wants their child to attend a school where people are constantly dying. It's a pity the current Minister of Magic is infertile and can't have children, otherwise..."
"You're too hasty..."
Voldemort quickly stopped him.
"Acting too quickly will make it easier for Dumbledore to find out..."
"What about tomorrow?"
Cohen asked, tilting his head.
"Tomorrow's the weekend. We can kill an entire dormitory..." "
Are you really that eager to kill people?!"
Voldemort really wanted to ask Cohen that question, but he knew he couldn't. If he did, Cohen might do something even more extreme.
"Since Dumbledore trusts you... I can't let you do it this time..."
Voldemort said in a low voice.
Dumbledore had to thank him, otherwise the future of wizarding would have been wiped out by this little Dementor.
"I'll keep having that Malfoy kid do the dirty work. You just need to make sure Harry Potter gets to the Chamber of Secrets after Dumbledore is expelled from school..."
"Simple, I'll just drag Harry there," Cohen said. "I've already sorted out my friendship with him. He's very obedient to me, you know. Children are the easiest creatures to deal with—especially now that I'm a child myself."
Voldemort left after proving his innocence—though he didn't really prove anything—but at least everything was on track.
"Go ahead, go ahead, whatever you do is normal..."
Back in the Room of Requirement, the Earl gave Cohen's "cooperation plan with Voldemort" an extremely lame evaluation.
Then, the Earl casually asked,
"You're not really going to resurrect him, are you?"
"..." Cohen blinked.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
The count, who had been slumped in his nest, stood up alertly. Even a bird could sense something was wrong.
"Say something! I'm so scared—you don't really want to resurrect that guy... right?"
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(End of Chapter)