"You guys wanna learn too?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at Cohen and Ron, who had already reached the door.
Ron didn't say anything, just shook his head like crazy.
Classes already took up way too much time; there was no way Ron wanted to keep going.
"Nah, I think I'll pass," Cohen said, shaking his head.
Making two little wizards repeatedly practice summoning their Patronus right in front of him was just way too much...
Talk about a dementor's idea of a hellish joke.
When Cohen was planning to grab some shut-eye for the afternoon, Voldemort whispered to him,
"That girl suspects you..."
Having been a master at manipulating people's hearts, Voldemort naturally had a handle on dealing with kids who wore their emotions on their sleeves.
Luckily, Cohen was alone in the dorm, so he didn't have to worry about...
"I'm not gonna head to the History of Magic classroom in the dead of night just to wait for two little wizards to keep blasting Patronus Charms next to me," Cohen said. "All that misty stuff makes it hard to breathe."
"Well, there's no helping that then."
Voldemort also remembered that Cohen had a pretty significant chunk of dementor in him, so it made sense that the Patronus Charm would be disgusting to him. This also clued him into one of Cohen's weaknesses: the kid seemed to have way less resistance to Patronuses than your average dementor.
"There's no spell for dementors to resist the Patronus Charm," Voldemort added.
If such a spell existed, that would be truly bonkers, almost as ridiculous as the idea of dementors being able to conjure up a corporeal Patronus.
"We're all just trying to make it through, aren't we..." Cohen sighed, burying his head under the covers.
That way, he wouldn't be able to hear Voldemort's nagging from his robes.
Muttering something under his breath—actually, right next to Cohen was Voldemort, the only guy desperately trying to live forever but stuck with Horcruxes as his second-rate survival plan.
Even Cohen's cat could live forever (not really).
"Oh yeah, wake me up at one-thirty," Cohen suddenly said, popping his head out from under the covers.
Voldemort looked super reluctant, but in the end, he grudgingly helped Cohen out as a living alarm clock.
But Voldemort's ghostly voice wasn't exactly music to the ears, so Cohen decided he wouldn't try that again. Nobody wants that kind of raspy, cold voice whispering "Get up, sleepyhead" in their ear.
In Herbology, they were still learning about Bubotuber pus, which they hadn't finished last semester. Apparently, a bunch of students had accidents and spilled it on the ground. These shiny beans would immediately bloom when they touched something solid, and they'd have to wait for another blooming cycle to get more for teaching.
As soon as Herbology class ended, Cohen snuck off, which totally confused Harry and Ron.
Cohen usually walked with them to and from classes.
Hermione, especially, looked even more worried.
Voldemort noticed this repeatedly and gave Cohen a heads-up.
But this was exactly the effect Cohen was going for—
"It's cool, I'm not part of this," Cohen said, shaking his head. "It was Peter Pettigrew who took you and Harry to the Riddle family graveyard. Even if she suspects me, it doesn't matter. When she tells Dumbledore, he'll naturally explain things for me."
"Indeed..." Voldemort agreed.
He didn't care if Cohen was comfortable at school. In fact, he kind of hoped Cohen would get kicked out and become an enemy of the entire wizarding world.
That way, Cohen would never be on the same side as someone like Dumbledore...
Having arrived at the designated spot, Voldemort on Cohen's robes called out in Parseltongue,
A rustling sound of decaying leaves came from deep within the Forbidden Forest, and a giant snake with reticulated python markings hissed as it approached Cohen.
It raised its head, recognizing the soul that had brought it here, and... Cohen.
It was weird; it had never encountered a person with the scent of snakes on them before—and this person gave it a dangerous vibe.
[We need to take some of your venom, Nagini...] Voldemort said. [Open your mouth...]
Nagini obediently opened its mouth, the tips of its fangs oozing black venom.
Cohen took out a wide-mouthed bottle covered with a rubber membrane, collecting the venom while observing the soul of the venomous snake named Nagini.
It hadn't become one of Voldemort's Horcruxes yet, but Voldemort's Parseltongue still allowed him to gain its trust and obedience.
Dumbledore had mentioned to Cohen before that when he was young, he had met a poor person deeply afflicted by a blood curse. Even though she would transform into a terrifying giant snake, it didn't affect the purity and kindness of her soul.
Cohen knew Dumbledore was talking about Nagini. The Maledictus curse was gradually causing her to lose her human form and memories as a human, eventually turning her completely into a snake.
It had completely become a magical creature, and even its soul had entirely transformed into the form of a snake.
The good news, though, was that it wouldn't be made into a Horcrux by Voldemort because Cohen now planned to put it in his trunk.
She was also a good person who sided with Dumbledore against Grindelwald, and her story was super sad. Saving her would definitely earn a ton of goodwill points—and then Cohen would use those points to help Xisoco find someone.
"Alright," Cohen said, having collected some of the venom and put it away.
Voldemort soothed Nagini with a few words, saying he would return after he was resurrected. Cohen now seriously suspected that Voldemort was into snakes; the way he talked to Nagini with such tenderness was just like talking to a person.
"I just need to drop this stuff off with Peter, right?" Cohen said to Voldemort. "And then it's time for the Harry snatching."
"Yes," Voldemort's ghostly voice said excitedly.
"Are you still sticking with me, or should we team up when the plan is about to kick off?" Cohen asked. "It's only Tuesday; we have to wait until the weekend for Harry and them to meet Sirius Black in Hogsmeade."
"I'll come find you guys on the weekend," Voldemort said. "I'll stick with Peter..."
"Cool," Cohen nodded. "Oh yeah, one more thing—I got my hands on Nicolas Flamel's inheritance."
"What inheritance?" Voldemort asked.
"Himself," Cohen said.
"His corpse?" Voldemort guessed. "Too bad, I think an old body might be a bit too frail..."
"Nah... he stored his memories in a book to teach me some things—and guess what? I found a way to make you a body—using alchemy!" Cohen said, sounding exasperated. "But considering you can revive yourself this way, maybe the body I'm making isn't so urgent? After all... it needs a lot of ingredients."
"If it's mixed with your blood... I'd actually prefer yours..." Voldemort said greedily.
Such a little greedy git...
Cohen readily agreed to Voldemort's request—once Voldemort was in the flesh puppet's body...
Heh heh heh, then it wouldn't be up to Voldemort anymore.