A legacy waiting two years in the future.
Cohen carefully stored Nicolas Flamel's key inside the system inventory to ensure it could never be lost. If the key disappeared, Dumbledore would need to request another one from Nicolas personally—and there was no guarantee the old alchemist would still be alive by then.
With the Philosopher's Stone incident finally resolved, Cohen now faced the terrifying fate he had desperately tried to escape.
Final exams.
"But you don't look worried at all."
Inside the Room of Requirement, the Count watched Cohen casually replaying his Dungeons & Dragons sandbox game and could not understand the complete absence of anxiety on his face.
After receiving Edward's "guidance," Cohen had already started exploring other parts of the game.
For example—
The romance simulator.
Although the races inside the game possessed absolutely no attraction for him whatsoever, there was still a strange satisfaction in conquering NPCs one after another. Manipulating emotions and relationships turned out to be unexpectedly entertaining.
"Hogwarts doesn't expel first-years for failing grades," Cohen replied without looking away from the screen. "Besides, I already solved the problem. Memorising everything is a waste of time."
The moment he realised Madam Pomfrey would not allow him to remain hospitalised for two entire weeks under the excuse of "recovery," Cohen spent approximately ten minutes developing a new plan.
Madam Pomfrey had been extremely firm about it.
"You are completely healthy now. Return to class immediately."
So Cohen adapted.
During exams, all he needed to do was stretch his soul into a long invisible strand, float across the room, and peek at Hermione's answers. Copying roughly seventy percent would already guarantee passing marks.
Why waste time memorising useless details?
"By the way," Cohen suddenly added, "you should read through my textbooks when you get the chance. They'll be useful during the holidays."
"Coo? Coo coo?"
The Count tilted his head in confusion.
Two weeks vanished quickly for Cohen.
For the rest of Hogwarts, however, those same fourteen days felt like an endless nightmare.
Students flooded the corridors carrying books everywhere. Even the air itself smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and despair. The castle had become infested with exhausted children reciting facts under their breath like dying cultists.
Even Harry and Ron temporarily abandoned their usual playfulness.
Every day became a countdown toward freedom.
Finally, the last examination arrived.
History of Magic.
"It's unbelievable," Ron groaned while violently rubbing his bright red hair inside the Gryffindor common room. "After everything that happened this year, they still made us take exams!"
He stared miserably at the History of Magic notes copied from Hermione.
For Ron, they may as well have been written in ancient goblin.
"It's already lucky that the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam got cancelled after Quirrell died," Cohen said while entering the common room. "History is easy anyway."
Harry and Ron both turned toward him instantly.
"You only need to remember a few important dates and names," Cohen explained confidently. "As for the causes, effects, and political influence behind events? Just make things up."
Ron blinked.
"You're serious?"
"Completely. As long as your answers sound concise and confident enough, teachers usually award sympathy points."
Harry's eyes lit up immediately.
The endless political consequences of goblin rebellions and werewolf legislation had nearly melted his brain already.
"That's how I survived history exams before Hogwarts," Cohen said generously. "Pure instinct."
Whether that strategy actually worked at Hogwarts remained entirely dependent upon Harry's luck.
Still, Harry and Ron embraced the emergency method like drowning men grabbing driftwood.
The following day, they successfully filled almost the entire History of Magic paper using Cohen's technique.
The instant the final exams ended, weeks of suppressed emotion exploded throughout the castle.
Cheering thundered through the corridors so loudly that Professor Binns briefly suspected another magical catastrophe had occurred somewhere.
"It's finally over!" Ron declared after stumbling out of the classroom. "I swear I'll study properly next year and never cram at the last second again!"
"I guarantee you'll repeat that sentence every single year," Cohen replied instantly. "Ten Galleons says you'll still procrastinate before second-year exams."
"But I don't have ten Galleons," Ron said sadly.
"The test was easier than I expected," Hermione said smugly. "I didn't even need to memorise the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the details of the Goblin Rebellions."
She looked almost disappointed.
Ron physically recoiled the moment Hermione suggested reviewing the exam answers together afterward.
So instead, they decided to enjoy freedom outdoors.
"We should visit Hagrid," Cohen suggested casually. "It's been two weeks since we checked on my trunk and Norbert."
Harry immediately looked nervous.
"I really hope Norbert hasn't grown to the size of a house."
"And hopefully Hagrid's still alive," Ron added.
Crossing the grounds beneath the warm afternoon sunlight, they eventually reached Hagrid's hut.
Originally, Cohen assumed Hagrid would be busy taking care of Norbert inside the trunk. Still, basic manners existed for a reason, so he knocked first.
"Who is it? Comin'..."
Hagrid's voice sounded strangely exhausted.
The door creaked open slowly.
The moment Hagrid saw them standing outside, he froze completely.
Instead of his usual enthusiastic welcome, awkward silence filled the doorway.
Harry immediately noticed the redness around Hagrid's eyes.
The giant looked nervous.
"Are we planning to stand here forever?" Cohen asked deliberately, trying to break the atmosphere.
Only then did Hagrid finally step aside and let them enter.
The air inside the hut smelled strongly of salt.
And tears.
Once everyone sat down, the reason became painfully obvious.
"Waaah—it's all my fault!"
Hagrid suddenly collapsed onto the bed and slammed both hands against his own head in self-loathing.
"I told that villain how ter get past Fluffy!" he cried miserably. "He knew everythin' except that, an' I told him anyway! Cohen nearly died because o' me! All fer a stupid dragon egg!"
Massive tears soaked directly into his beard.
"I'll never drink again! They ought ter throw me outta Hogwarts! I ought ter live as a Muggle fer the rest o' my life!"
"Hagrid..." Hermione said softly, though she clearly had no idea how to comfort him.
"It's alright," Cohen said calmly.
As the person who technically "died," he possessed the greatest authority to forgive Hagrid.
"I'm alive now. Besides, even if you hadn't told him, Voldemort would've figured it out eventually."
"You an' Harry almost got killed!" Hagrid sobbed even harder. "Yeh should stay away from me! I ain't a good person... I should've been expelled years ago..."
"Actually," Cohen interrupted thoughtfully, "I'll tell you the truth."
Everyone looked toward him.
"Even if you didn't tell Quirrell, I would've eventually."
Hagrid blinked in confusion.
"Why?"
"Because I already researched information about three-headed dogs."
The room went silent.
"We don't blame you, Hagrid," Harry added quickly. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't blame you either. We're still friends, and—and—"
Unfortunately, Harry's comforting abilities completely failed him halfway through the sentence.
"And we still have several major projects together," Cohen continued smoothly. "Speaking of which, how's Norbert?"
"Really—oh! Norbert!"
The dragon instantly revived Hagrid's spirit.
"I built the little guy a proper home!" Hagrid said excitedly through lingering tears. "An' I made a brilliant nest fer him too! He's probably happier than I've ever seen him!"
....
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