Edward suddenly called out to the air around them.
"?" Rose looked at Edward, puzzled.
"Did you forget what Cohen is?" Edward said, growing more convinced by the second. "Cohen's a Dementor!"
Seeing that Rose still hadn't caught on, Edward hurriedly explained further.
"Think about it—Cohen's soul ate the Philosopher's Stone, which means he's definitely still here. He might even hear us talking—wait, I'll have him try sucking some of my happiness—"
Edward looked downright excited.
"Cohen, I know this might be hard for you to accept, but we really need to explain it properly…" Edward said, leaning close to Cohen's corpse. "Professor Dumbledore was right just now—you *are*… uh, a mix of a lot of different creatures. But don't worry, Mom and Dad have always loved you, no matter what you've turned into."
His words were chosen with extreme care, as if afraid of upsetting Cohen.
"It just so happens that one part of your 'mix' is a creature called a Dementor. You should be able to see the 'happiness' in us, right? Can you try sucking a little? Just to let Mom and Dad know you're still alive?"
Edward wasn't entirely sure what humans looked like from a Dementor's perspective.
But the good news was that Cohen was an expert at both soul-sucking and happiness-draining, so Edward's less-than-precise instructions didn't hinder him much.
Edward waited nervously for something—anything—to happen, or to feel that soul-chilling coldness Dementors were known for.
Rose, too, felt a spark of hope ignite thanks to Edward's theory.
One second, two seconds…
The anticipation on their faces began to fade.
"Hiss—" Edward suddenly shuddered—a cold touch brushed against his shoulder.
Then Rose felt it too, a chill on her shoulder.
Cohen had no intention of draining his adoptive parents' happiness or souls. He just wanted to prove he was still around—no need to cause any real harm.
This gesture instantly lifted Edward and Rose's spirits from their earlier sorrow. What better news could there be than "Cohen's still alive"?
[Ding! Goodwill Points +10]
[Note: Bushgomon, you've actually got a conscience?]
By the afternoon, when a frail, ghost-like Nicolas Flamel arrived at the hospital wing with Dumbledore, Edward and Rose's high spirits still hadn't faded.
"Professor Dumbledore, Cohen's alive!"
The moment Dumbledore stepped through the door, Edward blurted it out excitedly, his voice rising uncontrollably.
Nicolas Flamel winced and rubbed his ears. The shout had rattled his fragile eardrums painfully.
"Oh—sorry—are you… Mr. Flamel?" Edward quickly lowered his voice and apologized.
This white-haired, withered old man seemed to embody only "age" and "fragility." It was hard to connect him to the great alchemist who'd lived for over six hundred years—he looked like he could keel over at any moment.
"Ah, it's fine, it's fine… I'm Nicolas Flamel," Nicolas said, recovering quickly from the ringing in his ears. "I should've worn my hearing aid—but I figured I didn't need to come to Albus's school fully armed. That'd feel a bit rude."
"I wouldn't have taken it as an offense, Nicolas," Dumbledore said, welcoming his old friend and introducing the couple. "These are Cohen's parents, Edward and Rose."
"Hello, hello," Nicolas said, extending a hand—but this habitual courtesy often left him with a few crushed bones.
Edward flinched in horror as he realized he'd gripped too hard—or rather, it was nearly impossible to gauge the right amount of pressure with Nicolas Flamel. His hand felt like damp paper that had dried in the wind.
"Hiss—ah, it's fine—it usually happens…"
In just a second, the lingering magic of the Philosopher's Stone in Nicolas's body repaired his bones.
"Let's skip the pleasantries," Dumbledore said, knowing both sides were eager to get to the point. "Cohen's situation is more urgent."
**[Soul Strength: 99]**
For a six-hundred-year-old alchemist, that number seemed reasonable enough…
Cohen suspected the 99 wasn't because Dumbledore and Nicolas's soul strength capped there, but because that was the highest the system could currently display.
"Indeed, where's the boy—oh, here…"
Nicolas scanned the room and locked onto Cohen—not his body, but his soul.
Cohen, perched on another bed, asked Nicolas Flamel in surprise.
He'd assumed the alchemist would need some tool to see souls—
But Nicolas didn't respond to Cohen's question.
It seemed he couldn't hear a soul's voice. Perhaps he'd only pinpointed Cohen's location because of the Philosopher's Stone's traces within him—after all, as its creator, Nicolas Flamel must have had some way to track it.
So, Cohen hadn't fully absorbed the stone after all?
"Ah, he's definitely still here," Nicolas said, hobbling over to Cohen's soul with a gait that looked like a jog but was really just an eager shuffle.
"Is Cohen there?" Rose and Edward couldn't see his soul and only saw Nicolas staring into the air.
"What you mentioned earlier… how do you know Cohen's still alive?" Dumbledore asked Edward.
"We asked Cohen to interact with us a little," Edward explained, keeping his voice low to spare Nicolas's ears. "He touched mine and Rose's shoulders—a cold sensation. It had to be Cohen."
"Oh…" Dumbledore's eyes lit up. "That's very promising. If we can just find a way to get Cohen back into his body properly…"
Nicolas waved at Cohen's soul, as if beckoning him to try floating back into his body.
Cohen drifted over—but he only overlapped with his body, not truly re-entering it.
He couldn't revive that easily—it'd make Nicolas Flamel's presence seem pointless.
Cohen racked his brain to figure out the "proper" revival method.
At the very least, Nicolas should have to *do* something, effective or not—just give him a reason.
"What a perfect creation… these clashing biological elements blended so seamlessly, without any rejection…" Nicolas studied Cohen like a piece of art, marveling at the "homunculus in a bottle."
"Albus, you should've told me about this sooner—I can't believe I didn't hear a whisper of it."
"We all wanted this child to have a normal childhood. Besides, the Ministry keeps his identity under tight wraps—they don't allow any information about him to leak out," Dumbledore explained. "Most people think he's an accidental creation—that the Burke family's experiment just happened to roll a perfect six."
"Chance and miracles often go hand in hand," Nicolas said, growing more delighted the longer he examined Cohen. "He's too perfect—it must be fate's choice that I'd meet him just before my time runs out."
*Fate's choice? Bullshit—it's me scheming, plotting, and busting my brain to force this meeting!*
Seeing Nicolas's expression—like he wanted to live another few decades just to study Cohen—Cohen knew his plan had succeeded.