Seventy-seven people in total...
Even fringe mbers like Von Braun were on the list.
Cohen summoned a piece of parchnt from his study and jotted down these nas, separating them by faction.
A long, long list – all nas of people who needed to be taken care of.
Sothing about Blood Harbor Ghost Shadow...
The only downside was that these people's current locations were definitely different from what was on the list –
"Alright, you guys can split these up," Cohen said to Siscoco. "Send one over to the old basilisk too, let him have a snack – he's getting on in years to be pulling stunts like that..."
[Well, there aren't any female snakes around here.] Siscoco sighed. [He's been pent up for over a thousand years, can't really bla him...]
After doing the sa by tossing a Legilins spell at the remaining two, Cohen handed the three of them over to Siscoco and left the box.
This rented room was full of the three n's belongings and trash – the only things of any real value were probably their wands.
Since they were "cult fugitives" wanted by the Ministry of Magic, the three n's living space was confined to this one small room, and they had to change locations frequently to avoid being discovered by patrolling Aurors.
Based on Number Three's mories, Cohen found a note detailing their plans, outlining what they had already accomplished and what they intended to do in the future.
Besides getting those two Muggles to stage an attack at Christmas, they had also planned to attack Cohen's parents before that – but they got their butts kicked by Edward.
These three really hadn't expected a kept man to be such a good fighter.
They were quick to make a run for it though, otherwise, that whole Christmas thing wouldn't have happened.
Cohen now understood why Edward had been faking illness for over a week –
Edward had been trying to lure these three attackers back so he could nab them all at once, but his acting was a bit over the top, and no one bought it.
Neither Cohen nor the three attackers believed Edward was actually sick.
As Cohen turned invisible again and left, the concealing magic around the rented room dissipated. Siscoco and the others must have finished off all three, as most released spells disappear when the wizard who cast them dies.
By the ti Cohen got back ho, it was almost lunchti.
"Has anyone been in here?" Cohen asked the Earl. "I wasn't spotted, was I?"
"Edward popped in, brought you so grub. It's over there by your desk. He even said a few apologetic things – I told him you were stressing out about howork, and he seed relieved," the Earl said. "What happened to those guys who were watching you?"
"Fed them to Siscoco. I also pulled the Silver Key's list out of their heads," Cohen said, putting away the flesh puppet. "Later, could you send a copy to Von Braun? Have him see if he can track down the locations of so of these people – preferably the ones I marked as 'conservatives.' They're way too radical."
Saying this, Cohen pulled a copy of the Silver Key list he had jotted down from his pocket and tapped the long piece of parchnt with his wand:
"Gemino."
Cohen tied the copy to the Earl's leg.
"Now?" the Earl said incredulously. "It's Christmas! Von Braun is way up north!"
"I really, really like you, you know," Cohen said earnestly.
"?" The Earl tilted his head, staring at Cohen. "Are you off your rocker again?"
"These Silver Key people want to make lose all hope in this world, but you're my hope in this world, you talking little owl," Cohen said, feigning sorrow. "If I don't take them out soon... they might co after you next..."
"Alright, alright," the Earl said, sounding like he was used to this. "I'll just pretend I believe you..."
Soon after the Earl flapped off, Edward ca to hurry Cohen to lunch.
"Have you finished your howork?" Edward asked. "Does Hogwarts really give that much howork over Christmas break?"
"Nope, it's just stuff I've been putting off for the past couple of weeks," Cohen said, making up an excuse on the spot. "People always get lazy, and things just pile up until the holidays – actually, I was planning to put it off until the very last day of break..."
"By then, you'll think getting a detention is a total bargain for not having to do the howork," Edward said knowingly, like he'd been there.
"That's a great idea—" Cohen said, his eyes lighting up.
"Edward, you're going to corrupt Cohen!" Martha scolded Edward. "What kind of Hufflepuff are you?!"
"But Cohen isn't one," Edward argued. "Cohen's a Gryffindor—"
"As long as his grades aren't suffering, I don't really have a problem with it," Rose said, sowhat agreeing with Edward. "I used to do that all the ti. So howork is just completely pointless – like all that nonsense from Divination, Edward, you rember, right? Professor Henry, the big bearded guy who loved to smoke and predicted he'd die by drowning..."
"If he knew he was going to die by drowning, wouldn't he avoid going near lakes?" Cohen asked curiously. "Is he still alive?"
"Nope," Edward said. "The year your mom and I graduated, he drowned in a glass of champagne."
"Don't tell ..." Cohen started to laugh. "A glass of champagne?"
"He was at a staff tea party, smoking a cigar and drinking bubbly champagne – he accidentally flicked so ash into his glass, and the champagne just went nuts, expanding into this huge blob of jelly-like stuff that engulfed him in seconds," Edward said. "He didn't even get to finish saying 'rlin's beard!' before he passed out from suffocation."
"What was with the champagne?" Cohen asked.
"It was a new type of product from O'Connor's Winery back then, waterless bubbly champagne," Edward explained. "It looked like a cloud of smoke you could drink, but it was actually just a bunch of Transfigured water. Professor Henry figured sothing like that definitely couldn't 'drown' him – it was an accident. The Ministry of Magic's accident report listed the cause of death as 'atypical liquid suffocation' and warned manufacturers not to cast Transfiguration spells on alcohol."
"Well, at least he proved his prediction was spot-on," Rose said. "That's why I never doubted his professionalism; he just wasn't a very good teacher."
"That's just how prophecies are," Martha said cheerfully, this topic being right up her alley. "The more you resist a prophecy, the more likely it is to co true. It's called a self-fulfilling paradox... That's why I never resist predicted outcos, like Edward becoming Minister of Magic – if Edward beca that kind of person, he'd definitely beco less of a family man..."
"I feel like that's even less likely than drowning in champagne," Edward said with a good sense of self-awareness.
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