"The Quidditch World Cup, eh," said Edward. "Lots of wizarding families go—wizards from all over, not just Britain. You'll get the chance to et so international friends…"
"You're still not giving up, even though I'm only fourteen," Cohen sighed. "No one's ever going to like a Dentor—unless I manage to turn into a Golden Snitch or sothing."
"But people like Cohen, don't they? Don't be so pessimistic." Edward gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "Harry and the others get along with you, don't they—"
"Let's save the matchmaking talk for when I'm of age, yeah?" Cohen wriggled off the couch. "I've got to do so remodeling in my trunk. Living in the little wooden cabin's getting cramped—I'm thinking of building sothing bigger… like a castle."
"Want help?" Edward raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have that 3 PM D&D session?" Cohen glanced toward the study, where a full ga board was already laid out. Clearly, Edward was planning a ga while Rose was out of the house.
"Oh—rlin's beard, I totally forgot!" Edward leapt up. "What ti is it now?!"
"Two forty-seven. You've got thirteen minutes to pick up your guests," Cohen replied after checking the clock.
"Alright, you go start on your castle. If you need help, call tonight." Grabbing the jacket draped over the back of the sofa and his car keys, Edward bolted out the door.
Cohen took his trunk upstairs to his room.
"Renovating?" asked the Earl, tilting his head. "You don't even sleep here half the ti!"
"I don't have to live here," Cohen replied cryptically, wagging a finger. "But I do need a base. Voldemort's started gathering Death Eaters—so I think it's ti I start putting together my own little task force, just in case."
"Well, that's easy. Just do another lap around Azkaban. You'll have a few hundred Dentors trailing after you, loyal and efficient," the Earl yawned. "You don't even need a building—they'll sleep anywhere. That baby Dentor you brought back already moved into the forest. Houses and hedges are all the sa to them…"
"Did you bully it?" Cohen squinted at him suspiciously. "Why'd it suddenly move out?"
"Yeah, yeah, I bullied him." The Earl rolled his eyes. "But tell this—if I apologize, do you think he'll return the nest he stole from ? I spent two hours building that thing, one twig at a ti!"
"That ans Mick's growing up." Cohen smiled. "He's standing up for himself now—I won't need to worry about him getting picked on anymore."
"Not going to ask how I'm doing, huh?" the Earl grumbled.
"Besides that dragon, there's no one left I can bully—wait, where are you going?"
"Out to find the perfect spot for my castle," said Cohen. "And to check in on Mick."
"I feel no love in this house," the Earl sighed dramatically.
But when Cohen returned, he had sothing new in hand and dropped it in front of the Earl, who was dozing on Cohen's bed.
"Coo—coo?" The Earl blinked at the twig nest, then at Cohen.
"There. Your handmade—no, claw-made—nest." Cohen grinned. "I traded a scarf with Mick to get it back. He's apparently going through a bit of a teen phase. Actually fought over it. Do Dentors have puberty?"
"You…" The Earl stared at the nest, speechless.
"Touched, aren't you?" Cohen smirked.
"You just didn't want to dig the castle foundation yourself and thought this would guilt into doing it, didn't you?" the Earl replied flatly. "Mick fought you? What's next, Voldemort sending a Father's Day card?"
"You're too smart," Cohen sighed. "I'll need to study how to lower a pet's intelligence…"
"Hmph." The Earl picked up the nest, carried it to the desk, spun around once inside it, and sat down—tail toward Cohen.
—
In truth, Cohen never intended to make the Earl do manual labor. Mick had only taken the nest because he thought it was a gift—he'd never seen the Earl sleep in it anyway (the Earl usually slept in Cohen's bed).
Despite all his grumbling, the next day when Cohen entered his trunk again, he found a properly dug foundation already marked out where the castle would go.
The site was near the forest where the unicorns lived. Cohen's vision was to build a mini-Hogwarts—sothing grand and eye-catching.
—
While Cohen was kicking off his "castle-in-a-trunk" project, the Ministry of Magic had also made a move.
But it wasn't about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
"Cohen's been ho all day," Edward said sharply, opening the door to an Auror who was knocking for the third ti that day. "Savage, why not just slap a tracking collar on the whole family while you're at it?"
"Security checks, Edward, I don't make the rules," replied the weary Auror, Savage. "I've still got to do a sweep at the World Cup stadium later. Can you get Cohen down here? I need to file a report."
He held up a parchnt that had a magical, blinking eye scanning the surroundings.
Edward sighed through his nose, clearly annoyed. "Cohen!"
Cohen strolled lazily down the stairs. "Do we have to go through this every sumr? If the Minister doesn't want at the Cup, he can just say it."
"This has nothing to do with the Cup," Savage said stiffly. "Alright, done for today. Goodbye."
He strode off down Privet Drive. Edward slamd the door shut.
"They make it look like I've done sothing wrong," Cohen muttered.
"Fudge has been off his rocker for ages," Edward said bitterly.
As soone who could spy on Voldemort at will, Cohen already knew why the Ministry was acting so paranoid.
Voldemort had sent Lucius to start recruiting Dentors. Barty Crouch Jr.'s death had been a wake-up call—Voldemort realized that if any of his truly loyal Death Eaters died, it would be a massive loss.
The unrest among the Dentors made it easy for Fudge to redirect suspicion toward Cohen—a dark creature hybrid with a known history of interacting with Dentors during his Hogwarts years.
Rather than face the idea of Voldemort's return, Fudge preferred to believe that Cohen was organizing a Dentor uprising.
By the end of July, Cohen felt like he'd seen every Auror the Ministry had.
On the night of the 31st, the last Auror assigned to check on him was a young woman with vivid violet hair.
"Edward! Did you manage to get tickets to the Quidditch match?" she asked brightly. "My dad Ted's dying to see the World Cup—he's always been curious about the wizarding world. I tried, but even Kingsley couldn't get a spare."
"Arnold helped get three," Edward replied. "You didn't co all the way here just to ask about tickets, did you, Tonks?"
"Of course not—it's my first real task since becoming a full Auror," Tonks said cheerfully. "Even if it's a bit boring… just checking up on a young wizard's daily activity…"
"Co in and sit," Edward offered. "Have you eaten yet? We just finished cooking—Dobby?"
"Dinner's ready, sir!" Dobby's high-pitched voice called from the kitchen.
"You've got a house-elf?!" Tonks sounded jealous. "Mum's always going on about how much she wants one—Dad's a slob. Oh—is this Cohen? I've been in training for ages, haven't had ti to visit. I really admire Rose, by the way."
"Is my mum secretly a powerful wizard hiding in a Muggle newsroom?" Cohen asked, hanging over the back of the couch.
"She can fight," Edward muttered.
"She can fight," Tonks said, awe in her voice.
"So things just aren't ant for kids to hear, huh," Cohen sighed and flopped back onto the couch.
Rose ca ho soon after, clearly familiar with Tonks.
"So, any chance you can tell us what's going on?" Rose asked over dinner. "The Ministry's actions lately have been seriously disruptive. If this keeps up, I may take… less diplomatic steps against Fudge."
"I don't know much myself," Tonks replied. "I heard it's because of trouble in Azkaban—but why that ans keeping tabs on a fourteen-year-old kid is beyond . The Minister's being ridiculous."
"When did you graduate?" Cohen asked curiously.
"1991—sa year you started Hogwarts, actually!" Tonks said brightly. "I heard lots of crazy things happened there after I left. Almost made wish I'd failed a class and had to repeat a year—"
"Your mum would've murdered you," Rose said with a grin. "So… how long's this surveillance supposed to last?"
"Until the Quidditch World Cup," Tonks replied. "Most of the other Aurors don't want to keep trekking over here every day, so I'll probably be the one handling it. Can I just leave this activity log with you? Cohen just needs to check it off daily."
"Better than hearing soone knock on the door every day," Cohen said, taking the form. The "eye" on the paper was clearly so magical biotric scanner. The Ministry was really going all out to avoid Aurors slacking off. "And I won't be ho tomorrow—I'm going to Sirius's. Harry invited over—it's his first sumr with his godfather."
"Sirius Black?" Tonks blinked. "He's… sort of my distant cousin? My aunt is his cousin, I think? Ugh, I've never been able to figure out all that family tree stuff—and Mum never talks about the old family. They disowned her."
"Pure-blood families are like that," Rose said sympathetically. "Honestly, you're better off leaving them. When Edward and I got married, the Borke family said they wanted to hang us from the top cells of Azkaban."
"Well, now there's not even a grave left of them," Edward said with a grin. "Bad people don't last long."
After dinner, Tonks thanked them and left, reminding Cohen to keep the log updated before the Cup.
"No one else doing their first official Auror duty has to play delivery girl," Tonks muttered. "There are so many wanted criminals out there… even Arnold from the Obliviation Squad caught one. Maybe I'll get lucky while I'm out and about."
—
That night, Cohen returned to his room. The Earl flew in through the window, holding a fat field mouse in his claws.
"Did the Ministry co again today?" he asked while tearing into his catch.
"Yep," Cohen replied. "But it was Tonks this ti. She's young, knows my parents. Still, I don't get why Fudge is going so hard tracking —what does he think I am, a walking magical nuke?"
"No idea what a nuke is," the Earl replied solemnly, "but… doesn't anyone else think the Ministry is terrifying?"
Cohen raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I an, they've sent more than thirty people here this month. All this effort—checking positions, anti-forgery logs—and yet, nothing's actually accomplished…"
The Earl took a deep breath. "It's scary…"
"That's how the Ministry runs under Fudge," Cohen sighed. "It's a disaster waiting to happen. Why do I feel like the wheels of history are grinding against my backside…"
He'd hoped for a little more ti to relax.
But with Fudge poking the beehive for no reason, Cohen was getting irritated.
Like a mosquito buzzing just outside your bed net—can't bite you, but it still ruins your night.
"Hey, send a letter for ," Cohen said to the Earl. "To Malfoy Manor."
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