"I just think the Avada Kedavra curse is too inefficient at killing, so I wanted to learn the Imperius Curse."
Three days had passed since Dumbledore's little chat, and now Cohen was back in Quirrell's office on the weekend.
*The Incorrigible Evil Baby Dementor*
Anyway, after leaving last time, Cohen had sneakily sent his soul back to eavesdrop on Dumbledore's office. His plan was going smoothly—any rule-breaking he did now could be pinned on Quirrell.
With someone to take the fall, he could afford to be a bit bolder—just not so bold as to actually off a student.
"But the Imperius Curse can only hit one person at a time too?"
Cohen said, sounding deeply disappointed. In front of him were a few rabbits under the Imperius Curse, currently performing a pole dance.
"B-But… that's how the Unforgivable Curses work…" Quirrell replied, sweating bullets. "Killing or controlling one person per spell isn't enough…?"
"Isn't there some kind of magic—like stringing a bunch of wizards together and taking them all out with one Avada Kedavra?"
Cohen mused, "That'd be way more efficient—"
If Quirrell hadn't seen Cohen tossing Unforgivable Curses around like they were household charms, he'd have thought whoever said that was insane.
But since it was Cohen saying it, Quirrell just figured he was a natural-born "Dark Lord."
"Uh… there's nothing like that…" Quirrell said stiffly. "Or at least, I've never heard of it…"
Where did a kid get so much dark emotion to fuel Unforgivable Curses?
No wonder the Dark Lord had singled him out…
After the extracurricular lesson ended, kindhearted Cohen took the rabbits back to the Room of Requirement to spare them further torment from a dark wizard.
"I think you're more dangerous than any dark wizard," Earl remarked.
"Good owls don't get my roasted rabbit legs."
Cohen shot back, flipping a whole roasted rabbit skewered on a stick and sprinkling some cumin on it.
Life should be about hunkering down in the Room of Requirement, roasting rabbits.
Right now, the Room had morphed to meet Cohen's needs, adding a kitchen complete with a shiny new grill and even a secret passage to the school kitchens—Cohen had sweet-talked the house-elves into giving him a stash of barbecue spices.
He was growing fonder of this place by the day. It was practically paradise.
He was seriously considering living in Hogwarts' Room of Requirement forever—sneaking in on graduation day and becoming the school's resident freeloader…
Earl eventually caved to the allure of roasted rabbit, admitting he'd join Cohen's mischief and promising to take him to a troll lair.
For the rest of the weekend, Cohen slipped off to the Forbidden Forest.
With souls to snack on, he didn't bother with dinner in the Great Hall.
Aside from holiday feasts, the hall was often missing students anyway—overachievers were everywhere. Cohen had lost count of how many times he'd seen Hermione pack dinner at lunch just to save time for studying.
His last Ashwinder genocide plan had bumped his soul completion to 15%. This time, Cohen set his sights on another creature in the Forbidden Forest.
Deep in the forest, the faint evening sun couldn't pierce the canopy, plunging the area into near-night.
The only light came from tiny glowing creatures flitting about and pale blue fluorescent mushrooms clinging to tree trunks and exposed roots.
A lone Acromantula's massive pincers clacked threateningly. It had just stepped out for a quick snack—but now something bizarre had appeared in the forest.
The creature wore a tattered cloak that looked like it'd been soaked to ruin. It had scabbed hands, a decayed and hollow form, and floated through the air like a rag.
Though it was still several trees away, instinctual fear gripped the isolated Acromantula, urging it to flee—so it clacked menacingly while backing off.
Cohen had to strike in Dementor form, now!
In the next second, he lunged at the Acromantula, his wide, rotting robes flapping in the wind.
Good thing he didn't need to go mouth-to-mouth like other Dementors to suck souls—just being within a meter or two was enough.
Otherwise, Cohen wouldn't touch these prickly, hairy arachnids with a ten-foot pole. Only Earl enjoyed pecking at bugs.
Cohen slurped down the soul in one go, and his system panel clearly showed the bump.
A young Acromantula's soul was *that* nourishing!
Once an animal's soul was taken, its body wouldn't last long before dying.
But Cohen didn't leave the big spider to wander the forest—he gave the technically-dead creature a little "help."
This way, he could safely extract venom from its pincers.
A single pint of Acromantula venom could fetch a hundred Galleons—Cohen felt like Hagrid was sitting on a goldmine, letting all these rare species overrun the place.
So, Cohen would just pocket those Galleons himself.
After collecting a small vial of venom, he watched the spider's venom sac shrivel up.
"Kinda weak—doesn't last long," Cohen remarked with a hint of pity.
One Acromantula wasn't enough, of course. Cohen planned to drift deeper into the forest to hunt for more spiders.
For some reason, he'd never tasted emotions from animals, which meant their souls were bland as cardboard. Maybe that's why other Dementors didn't bother with them?
Finding an Acromantula colony wasn't hard. Following the direction the young spider had fled, Cohen soon spotted sticky webs strung between the ground and tree trunks.
These spiders leaned more toward burrowing—they didn't always linger on their webs, which were mostly for catching prey. Cohen had just seen a panicked stag crash into one.
The next moment, an Acromantula chasing the stag darted out from the trees, sinking its pincers deep into the stag's belly. After a few twitches, the stag went still.
The instant it died, more spiders began crawling out from all around—even a few pups the size of hounds.
Limited by food scarcity, the Acromantula population struggled to grow—they couldn't cross the centaurs' boundary.
But today, their savior Cohen had arrived!
Cohen "helped" by clearing out half their colony. Now they could breed like crazy—then he'd kill more, they'd spawn more.
Cohen wins, the spiders win—jackpot!
Acromantula eggs only took six to eight weeks to hatch. Cohen figured he could sell their venom for the same price as Ashwinder eggs.
The potion-makers would win too—double jackpot!
Under the cover of night, Cohen munched on Acromantula souls one by one from the colony's edge, while the spiders chowed down on their freshly caught, hefty stag.
Everyone was content in life. If spiders had emotions, Cohen figured this place would be a honey pool right now.
In no time, he'd polished off sixteen adult spiders and three juveniles, pushing his soul completion to 17%.
No bottleneck yet—Cohen had planned to keep hunting spiders, but an old-timer showed up—
A denser, louder wave of spider sounds erupted from all directions. They surrounded Dementor-form Cohen, led by an ancient, white-eyed beast—Aragog.
Besides Aragog, the older spiders flanking it had soul strengths of 17 or 18.
Damn it, just thirty more spiders and he could've wiped them all out!
"Outsider… leave this place…"
Aragog's voice was rough and furious. Cohen's slaughter of its kin had pissed it off.
Cohen ate another nearby Acromantula soul—soul completion hit 17.1%.
He wouldn't normally be so cruel to sentient beings, but he had zero sympathy for these spiders.
Hagrid raised and protected them, yet during the Battle of Hogwarts, they turned on him and sided with Voldemort.
So… turncoats. No need to reason with them—just kill!
Aragog roared hoarsely, seeing Cohen wouldn't back down.
The slightly tougher spiders around it lunged at Cohen all at once.
But they clearly hadn't realized something: Cohen wasn't stuck hovering a foot off the ground like most Dementors—he could fly higher.
So when Cohen shot upward, the spiders predictably pounced on empty air.
Webs and venom sprayed toward him, but Cohen dodged easily, swooping down mid-climb to snag a few more kills—including maybe an elite with 17 soul strength.
Soul completion hit 19%. He could probably call it quits.
Hovering among the treetops, Cohen counted the spiders below.
Looked like about twenty left—not so few they'd get wiped out by rival spiders or centaurs. They'd probably replenish the dozens Cohen killed today in no time.
[Ding! Goodwill Value +33]
See? Good deeds pay off!
"Thanks for the meal! Keep pumping out those babies—I'll be back next time!"
"*** (Acromantula profanity)!"
Cohen left Aragog and its kids with a cheery goodbye, though all he got in return was Aragog's furious cursing.