The locked door swung open with a gentle push, revealing a small room steeped in an even stronger stench of blood—a scene straight out of so satanic cult's playbook.
Across the room stood sothing like a podium, with an open book perched on it, looking for all the world like a Bible a priest might preach from in a church.
On the floor was a circular pattern made of shattered bones and random odds and ends. If you squinted at the shape…
"Worshipping a Dentor? That's a bit *too* human-like, isn't it?" Cohen muttered, clicking his tongue.
A black hood, scraps of a dark cloak, and two severed, shriveled hands—long and bony. It could only point to a Dentor.
So what did that make Cohen? Their ssiah co to earth or sothing?
Stepping over the creepy Dentor-worship altar, Cohen decided to check out this heretic's "Bible."
Good thing it was in English—he could actually read it.
The pages were filled with long-winded, archaic words describing the arrival of so grand entity.
**[It bears a thousand faces, speaks a thousand tongues.]**
**[When you see a man, It has co.]**
**[When you see a deadly serpent, It hisses tales of fate.]**
**[When you see a pitch-black steed, It cruelly sars curses with blood.]**
**[When you see a drifting soul, It whispers annihilation from the shadows.]**
**[When you see a hybrid Chira, It burns despair with searing fla.]**
…
Cohen didn't quite get why these weirdos used such epic language to hype up a jailed old man, a lazy snake monster, a boozy unicorn, and a clingy little Dentor, but damn if it didn't feel good to read.
It was like flipping through a fanfic where he was the star.
Plus, he picked up so new tidbits from it.
"Chira…"
Going by the pattern here, the final piece of Cohen's makeup had to be a "Chira."
Those things were real—certified 5X-level dangerous magical creatures by the Ministry. Native to Greece, bloodthirsty as hell, with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail. Super rare and deadly. History only had one record of a wizard killing a Chira, and that guy ended up croaking anyway—fell off his winged horse from exhaustion.
No clue how Bork manor got their hands on one, but Cohen figured it was probably the sa shady thod they used to snatch the snake monster, Sissoko.
Still, the Chira was already a hybrid freak of nature. Why did this prayer tack on "hybrid" in front of it? Was the Chira that made up Cohen mixed with *even more* species?
And what about the hands? Cohen had thought five components were the limit—now bloodlines could stack like Russian dolls too?
The prayer wasn't done yet. Cohen figured he'd keep indulging in the ego boost and see how else they hyped him up.
**[It was born of chaos, unpredictable, unimaginable.]**
**[If the world holds the lofty, It topples it.]**
**[If the world hides the deep, It lays it bare.]**
**[In the depths of despair, the masses cry Its na, begging forgiveness.]**
**[Yet none know Its true na.]**
**[For It has forgotten all, lost in that grand dream.]**
**[It clings to Its echoing mories.]**
**[In that vast house, in that chamber of fla, in that night counting the years…]**
**[When the work of creation is done, the absurd dream stirs awake.]**
**[Wake It!]**
**[Wake It!]**
**[Wake It!]**
…
The rest was just **[Wake It!]** scrawled over and over, hundreds—thousands—of tis. Cohen finally noticed the words weren't in red ink. They were written in blood.
This level of stan behavior was straight-up insane. No wonder Borgin called them a nutcase crew—totally justified.
Whether it was about destroying the world or whatever, the Silver Key folks seed convinced Cohen was so destined god of ruin. Their job? Wake him up.
"What is this, a Scarlet Witch subplot?" Cohen quipped.
These clowns had too much ti on their hands. Send them to Siberia to dig potatoes for a few months—they'd straighten out fast. Still, knowing their ga plan made it way easier for Cohen to deal with them.
They just wanted him to wake up, right?
If the "god" says he's awake, then he's awake…
---
In the hazy dawn, Cohen was sneaking back ho to Privet Drive, carefully "climbing" up to the second-floor window to slip into bed unnoticed—when he spotted a nightmare waiting for him.
"So how are you gonna explain leaving a pillow in your bed last night and sneaking out?"
Rose asked calmly, her voice way too steady for comfort.
"Derek Malfoy?"
Busted!
She'd even tracked the Knight Bus. Cohen could only imagine how much effort Rose had put into hunting him down.
The longer parents search for a runaway kid, the worse the punishnt when they catch you…
"Can I still get breakfast?" he tested cautiously.
"No note? No ssage? Even Earl was gone!"
Rose's calm snapped in an instant.
"Do you have *any idea* how worried I was?! You could've been snatched by Voldemort or so other dark wizard! You could've been dead! You could've—again—"
Cohen couldn't hear the rest—his ears were ringing. Mortal eardrums had their limits. Convenient, though—it gave him a little peace to think.
Rose ranted for a solid half-hour until her voice gave out. Cohen, ever the gentleman, handed her a glass of water.
"Last night, I was… uh, trying to get you guys so candles!" he blurted, seeing she'd vented most of her steam. He yanked a bundle of Everlasting Candles from his pocket.
On his way out of the underground, he'd run into that old shopkeeper. The guy was slow on the uptake—no fight broke out, no need for Cohen to get rough. But even half-asleep, the geezer insisted on doing business. He pegged Cohen as a candle buyer and shalessly guilt-tripped him into taking a bundle, practically begging like a street hustler.
"It's the big Christmas season… have a heart…" the old man had sobbed, tears streaming. "Buy so candles… let eat a decent al tomorrow…"
With Edward and Rose's anniversary coming up, Cohen figured—why not? He'd grab the candles as a prop for them.
Now, it was actually paying off.
The stern fury on Rose's face softened a bit.
"I thought, with your anniversary at the end of January, if Dad set up a candlelit dinner, you'd love it…" Cohen said, leaning into the story.
"No more sneaking out alone!" Rose warned, her tone firm but less biting.
"I love your gift, but next ti, leave a note. Don't make it feel like a kidnapping. Your dad and I were losing our minds yesterday—we checked the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, everywhere, and couldn't find you. Where'd you even get those candles?"
(End of Chapter)
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