"Why are you running?!"
Cohen chased after Harry, dragging his slippers, while Harry bolted ahead, lugging his suitcase.
"Because you're chasing !" Harry yelled back, panting.
"Well, you started running first!" Cohen shouted.
Harry suddenly rembered why he'd panicked in the first place. He slowed down and eventually ca to a stop.
They'd already run two streets.
"What are you two yelling about?"
Mrs. Figg poked her head out of her house by the roadside. Cohen didn't know her well, but he recalled she was one of Dumbledore's people.
"Trouble?" she asked.
"No, it's, uh, a night run…" Harry stamred nervously.
Cohen caught up to him—if it weren't for the fact that turning into a Dentor would be a bad idea, he'd have flown over and pinned Harry down already.
"A night run with a suitcase, huh?" Cohen glared at Harry as Mrs. Figg went back inside. "I just ate dinner! If my stomach drops, it's your fault—"
"I had to get away fast," Harry said glumly. "I used magic on my aunt—the Ministry's going to co for soon."
"Do I look like the Ministry to you?" Cohen asked.
"Huh?"
"If I'm not the Ministry, why are you running from ?" Cohen said. "I was yelling for you to co crash at my place, not to drag you off to Azkaban…"
"But I broke the law…" Harry admitted, voicing his fears. "I didn't want to get Mr. and Mrs. Norton in trouble…"
"Then just trouble little Norton instead, oh great Chosen One," Cohen said, pulling Harry back the way they ca. "You think running off will fix everything? The Ministry catching a kid wizard like you isn't so casual thing. If you're really scared of getting nabbed, hide in my case—it's full of illegal stuff anyway."
Privet Drive was eerily quiet. The Dursleys had already stord off in the other direction after Aunt Marge, and thanks to Arnold's busywork, all the Muggles along the street were locked indoors so they wouldn't spot a certain "balloon person" floating in the sky.
"I'm definitely getting expelled…" Harry muttered, despair creeping in.
"Not necessarily," Cohen said, raising an eyebrow. "Have you seen the papers lately?"
"I can't do anything at the Dursleys'," Harry sighed. "They won't let Hedwig out, and I'm not even allowed outside."
"A prisoner broke out of Azkaban, and the Ministry thinks he's after you," Cohen explained. "Do you really think they'd kick the Chosen One out of the wizarding world just for inflating his aunt? The current Minister's terrified of bad press."
"After ?" Harry blinked. "Why does everyone want to kill ?"
"Bla Voldemort for that," Cohen said as they neared Number 5 Privet Drive. "Word is, the prisoner's one of his lackeys."
"Woof! Woof!"
Out of nowhere, a massive black dog burst from the bushes, barking furiously at Cohen.
"What the—"
Harry jumped, startled. The dog looked ready to lunge and bite.
**[Soul Strength: 28]**
Cohen instantly clocked it—this was a person. Black must've overheard him telling Harry that "Sirius Black is Voldemort's lapdog" and gotten ticked off.
Judging by his soul strength, the Dentors had nearly broken him. Even Lupin, from the sa era, had a solid 39.
"Shoo! Shoo!"
Edward jogged over to et Cohen and waved the black dog off. It gave Edward a long look before slinking back into the bushes and vanishing.
"Get inside, quick," Edward said to Cohen and Harry. "And Harry, don't freak out too much. Arnold'll catch up with that Dursley relative soon—it's not a huge deal."
"But Mr. Norton—what if—" Harry started, hesitant.
"The expulsion thing? Nah, it'll be fine," Edward assured him. "Arnold's my buddy. Even if the Ministry digs into this, he'll fudge the report for you. Otherwise, I'll just tell his wife about that ti he went to 'Bewitched Bliss'…"
"What's 'Bewitched Bliss'?" Harry asked, unfamiliar with the na.
"A nightclub in Diagon Alley," Cohen explained. "My dad—"
"I never said I wanted to go!" Edward cut in sternly. "Don't you dare ntion that place to your mom."
Edward had passed by the club once with Cohen in Diagon Alley, though he'd never gone in—he'd gotten married not long after graduating, but he'd admitted to being curious about it.
Edward's promise eased Harry's nerves a bit. Maybe he still had a shot at going back to school.
"Though the Dursleys might not be so chill about it," Edward said, taking Harry's suitcase and leading the boys inside. "Just pretend you've left the area for now—let them cool off. If they knew you were next door, they'd probably barge in and cause a scene."
"So I can…" Harry looked at Edward and Cohen, hopeful.
"Spend the rest of the sumr here," Edward said. "You'll stay in the room next to Cohen's—I've cleaned it up. Bathroom's by the stairs, and if you're hungry at night, there's fish sticks and custard in the fridge downstairs…"
"But don't eat it all," Cohen whispered, leaning close to Harry. "I just got a new lion, and it's obsessed with fish sticks."
"Aweso!" Harry said, relief washing over him.
"Oh, by the way, Cohen," Edward turned to him suddenly. "After you stepped out, Martha's cat—Mr. Flondo—ca through the fireplace. Any idea what's up with that?"
"?"
Cohen's eyes widened as he started scanning the room for that chatty, cow-patterned cat.
There it was, rolling around in Rose's lap on the couch, acting like a totally harmless little nace.
How'd Mr. Flondo follow him here?!
"Ah, Cohen! I thought long and hard before deciding to co find you," Mr. Flondo spoke up the mont their eyes t. "I even found Martha a new cat so she wouldn't be lonely without …"
"Another one?!"
Rose instinctively flung the talking cat off her lap.
This was the second talking animal tied to Cohen she'd encountered, after the Earl.
"Another one!" Edward yelped, suddenly alert. He'd just realized this posh, London-accented tomcat had been sprawled across his wife's lap. "And—and—"
Wait, this cat had lived with Martha for the past twelve years!
"Another one?" Harry, who'd t the Earl, was now face-to-face with yet another talking cat.
Was talking animals a normal thing or what?
"Ow, that was a sudden toss! Cohen's mum, if I weren't a cat, I might've cracked my head," Mr. Flondo said. "Terribly sorry for startling you all. But since I might be staying here for a while, I figured it's best to co clean about the talking thing early—it'll help you get used to . I never told Martha, mind you. She's too old; it'd give her a fright. But you lot are young, you can handle it…"
"How much cash will it take for you to leave Earth?" Cohen asked Mr. Flondo.
Reviews
All reviews (0)