Chapter 127 Nick: Regret, I really regretted it back then.
Cohen saw a hint of surprise flash in Dumbledore's eyes.
Wait, didn't Mundungus give Dumbledore the materials he stole from the lab?
Cohen thought Dumbledore knew about his bloodline's origins, but now it seemed that this old thief Mundungus hadn't given Dumbledore the stolen books or journals at all, but had sold them directly.
Would Dumbledore not know? Or did someone offer Mundungus a higher price?
"Do you think it has any ill intentions towards you?" Dumbledore asked.
"Malice?" Cohen shook his head, "There shouldn't be any creature with ill intentions towards me that would climb into my bed while I'm sleeping not to kill me, but to call out 'son, son' and call my soul..."
"It calls you 'son'?" Dumbledore's beard twitched.
You're laughing, aren't you? You're clearly laughing! I saw it!
Cohen clenched his small fist.
No, I have to find a way to annoy this old man.
Cohen decided to sneak in that night and sprinkle some mustard into Dumbledore's candy pile with his dirty little hands.
"It says it's in the Chamber of Secrets," Cohen said. "Do you think it's the culprit behind the attack on Colin?"
"I don't think so, Cohen," Dumbledore said. "It sounds like just a visitor looking for someone at Hogwarts, not some Slytherin monster that's been in the Chamber of Secrets for over a thousand years."
"Great, then I can take the civil service exam after graduation," Cohen said.
"The Ministry of Magic probably doesn't restrict its employees' backgrounds," Dumbledore reassured him. "There's a crucial element in what you've told me—Voldemort. It reminds me of a similar incident fifty years ago, when several petrification incidents occurred, and a poor child died. Coincidentally, that was when Voldemort was in school."
"He was called Voldemort when he was in school?"
"Back then, he was called Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said. "He changed his name after leaving school; he hated his original name. But that's not the point we're discussing now. The point is that the Chamber of Secrets was opened by the same person."
"But this time, things are a little different."
"Because of that perverted creature that called me 'son'?" Cohen asked.
"Cohen, I hope this doesn't make you uncomfortable," Dumbledore said gently, looking at Cohen.
"It's alright. It called me 'son,' so I pretty much know what our relationship is," Cohen muttered. "It's my biological father, as long as Edward doesn't mind."
"Since it has also lived in the Chamber of Secrets during this time without causing any conflict, it means it belongs to the same species as the creatures in the Chamber," Dumbledore quickly arrived at the correct conclusion. "Its goal is to find you, like a lonely father searching the world for his child." He
was close to the truth, but one thing was still wrong: it wasn't looking for its child because it was lonely; it just wanted a place with food and lodging.
However, Dumbledore certainly hadn't expected a Basilisk to be so lazy. This wasn't his fault, after all, basilisks don't regularly hold lifestyle seminars with wizards.
Cohen gained a deeper understanding of Dumbledore's reasoning abilities.
This old man seemed to have a cheat code; if he hadn't voluntarily stayed at Hogwarts, he would most likely have caused a major upheaval in the wizarding world.
"Its ultimate goal certainly isn't just to see you; it wants to reunite with you," Dumbledore continued. "This is something Voldemort can't understand. He may not have even met the new inhabitant of the Chamber of Secrets. The way to prevent the tragedy of fifty years ago from repeating itself lies here."
"I'm going to find the Chamber of Secrets?" Cohen asked. "And then—"
"No," Dumbledore immediately refused.
Cohen knew why; the "Killing of Cohen" last semester had left a deep impression on him, and Dumbledore probably didn't want to experience it again.
But Cohen certainly wouldn't use the old tricks…
This time, Cohen had a fresher way to die than Avada Kedavra, the kind that would give Dumbledore another heart-pounding rollercoaster ride.
"This is what I should do, not yours," Dumbledore said. "Including your friends, they shouldn't continue searching for the Chamber of Secrets either; it's too dangerous for students."
But it's just right for the Dementors.
"It will continue to search for you. I just hope you can let me know as soon as it finds you again, or when you hear its voice,"
Dumbledore said.
"That way we can determine its species and prepare a way to deal with it."
"And then? Will it be killed?" Cohen looked at Dumbledore with pitiful eyes.
"Of course not," Dumbledore reassured Cohen. "If it won't harm you, perhaps you can keep it in that box, but I think we should ask your parents' permission."
"Okay," Cohen obediently nodded.
Ariel and Sissoko would certainly agree.
—Starting
Monday, news of Colin's attack spread like wildfire throughout the school.
In almost a single morning, rumors were flying, students were paranoid, and regardless of grade, they began moving around in groups, fearing an attack if they were alone.
Somehow, someone sneaked into Filch's office and discovered his secret as a Squib—this didn't reassure them much.
"Remember that pure-blood nonsense from Slytherin?" Lee Jordan said at lunch one day. "He wanted to purge anyone in the school unworthy of learning magic. Filch is a Squib, Colin is Muggle-born, and the attacks seem to follow a pattern." These deductions
caused widespread panic among the Muggle-born young wizards, who secretly exchanged amulets and other exorcism items after class.
Within a week, this practice had become a school-wide craze, and even Neville bought some exorcism tools.
"But you're not actually in any danger," Ron said rationally to Neville. "You're a pureblood, you should use this money to buy more food…"
"They attacked Filch first," Neville said, his round face filled with fear. "Everyone knows I'm practically a Squib."
In Harry and the others' eyes, Cohen also seemed extremely wary of the attack, always carrying his trunk with him.
"The renovations are almost finished. I feel like I'll have a basement as big as a house by the Christmas holidays."
On the last Friday before Christmas, Cohen said cheerfully at the dinner party.
"Building infrastructure is quite rewarding—are you still working on the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Of course, and we have no clue whatsoever," Harry said dejectedly. "Maybe it's a special ghost, or maybe it's a giant rat…"
After dinner, they planned to go to Cohen's trunk with him, choosing the boys' dormitory as the location—because Dean was busy preparing a new batch of anti-attack pendants with his friends and wouldn't be back for a while. ("At least I know how a dragon would attack me," Ron said.)
On their way back to the common room, they encountered a Nearly Headless Nick.
This was quite unusual, as Cohen remembered not encountering a single ghost since arriving at the school; they all avoided him.
"Hello…" Nick greeted them cautiously, avoiding direct eye contact with Cohen.
"Nick, is there something you need?" Harry asked. They often ran into Nick, but it always seemed to be when Cohen wasn't there. He and Ron had previously suspected that Nick was Cohen—because the two almost never appeared together.
"I'd like to ask Cohen—uh, to come somewhere with me?" Nick said awkwardly. "Don't worry—it won't take long, it won't take up much of your time…"
The other three all looked at Cohen.
"First Dumbledore, then Nick—Cohen, did you break the law?" Ron exclaimed in surprise.
"Then I'll show you what it's like to be the heir to Slytherin later," Cohen said irritably. "The first thing I'll do before going to prison is kill all my good brothers who like to talk nonsense."
Cohen agreed to go with Nick.
Why did Nick want to see him?
The ghost led Cohen to an empty classroom not far away, and he was especially careful to watch out for anyone passing by in the corridor—like a thief.
"I thought you ghosts had collectively ostracized me," Cohen said, feigning sadness.
"Sorry, we didn't mean it—we were just scared—you know, you are…" Nick said cautiously, "You won't be angry about this and—"
"I don't eat ghosts," Cohen shook his head. "Last year it was just because you crawled into my mouth yourself—how was I supposed to know there would be a ghost in the lamb leg…"
"Ha…" Nick was a little embarrassed.
"Is there something wrong this time? Or did someone ask you to find me?"
Cohen asked.
But Nick seemed a little hesitant to speak.
"Actually… it's not a big deal… you've already done it once before…"
"Don't describe it in a way that's too inappropriate for children…" Cohen sighed, "It'll get censored."
"I want to ask you to give me a small Dementor's kiss." Nick managed to say it with all his might.
"Even more inappropriate for children!" Cohen couldn't hold back anymore, "Just say you want me to bite you."
"Ah—I don't really know what this behavior of Dementors should be called…" Nick said fearfully, "I originally planned to do this last year—you know, because my head is half off and half gone, I'm often teased by other ghosts—especially at the end of October this year—at my death anniversary party…"
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