"How did you survive that?"
Cohen frowned deeply.
Even if what the Count said was true and Edward had sohow made Cohen into a sort of Horcrux—there was still no reason why Cohen should've co out completely unscathed after being hit by the Killing Curse.
"We haven't exactly figured that out either." Edward shook his head. "All I rember is that everything went black, like I was dreaming—and then in the dream, this old man with a white beard in a robe covered in stars kicked back here..."
"Well, that just made things even more bizarre," Cohen said dryly.
"Charlson?" Rose asked.
She rembered that Edward's late father was also an old man with a white beard.
"If it was my dad, I'd definitely recognize him," Edward said, rubbing his face. "My chest still hurts a little, too—if that was really him kicking , I'm definitely going back to return the favor..."
Edward didn't have the best mories of his father, Charlson. They'd had a falling-out over Cohen's adoption and barely spoke for years. Edward only went back to see Charlson after his death.
"At least you're alive," Herbert said. "That's what matters. Being alive is the most important thing..."
"Let's not dwell on it." Edward casually patted Cohen's shoulder. "This kind of academic mystery can wait for another ti. The important thing is you don't have to worry about that future anymore. That batch of Silver Key mbers got trussed up by your mom and handed off to Dumbledore. Just focus on the tournant. If I can't be killed by them, maybe I can relax a bit..."
"Don't tempt fate," Cohen sighed. "Who knows if the next Killing Curse might actually work."
"Yeah yeah, I get it. Go get so rest." Edward smiled.
"What about the real Arnold?" Cohen asked before leaving.
"He was stuck in the bathroom with constipation for over an hour," Edward replied. "When we went to find him, he looked completely dazed. Honestly, that scene was kinda unforgettable..."
As Cohen left the tent, he could already hear Rose scolding Edward behind him—accusing him of "forming little cliques with our son again" and "excluding " and such.
Cohen had plenty of theories about how Edward had survived a Killing Curse, but none of them made perfect sense.
Still, the important part was that he had survived…
There weren't many people in the wizarding world who'd survived the Killing Curse—nor many with the opportunity to study what the curse actually does to a person's soul, or whether Horcrux creators could return to their old bodies. (Voldemort's case didn't count—his corpse had been blown to bits in a spell explosion.)
Just like Edward said, the academic stuff could wait.
Now that the prophecy hanging over Cohen's head had co to pass, he felt strangely at ease—even the Count, who constantly nagged about wanting a girlfriend, didn't seem quite as annoying.
"...Did you just insult in your head?" the Count asked suspiciously.
"Nope. I was complinting your accuracy," Cohen replied. "Edward got hit by the Killing Curse and ca out fine."
"Of course I was right." The Count puffed up with pride. "I also predict you'll be buying a girlfriend soon—co on, I'm entering my mating season here!"
"Am I not good enough company for you?" Cohen said with a sigh. "Honestly, you're completely ruined by that female owl. You go into heat every couple weeks."
——
The next day, since the Third Task was happening that night and Ron and Hermione had a History of Magic exam, Harry had to ask Cohen for help with so last-minute practice.
"Just go ahead and start." Cohen's voice ca muffled from under the covers. "Use whatever spell you want."
"But I can't tell if it's working or not… I don't know if I'm doing it right..." Harry said in frustration.
"Go rummage through my trunk," Cohen said lazily. "It's under the bed."
With the tournant wrapping up, and sumr break just around the corner, Cohen had already moved most of his alchemical supplies out of the Room of Requirent.
"My spells won't do anything to a basilisk, a chira, or a dragon..." Harry muttered to himself.
"Use the food goats I raise," Cohen said. "But make sure the big goat's nearby to watch over them. Otherwise, Norbert's mom might think you're trying to steal lunch—and also, avoid the baby basilisk..."
"What?" Harry blinked. "It's still in there?!"
"Hard to say. But better safe than sorry. It mostly stays in the empty castle replica now. Just don't go in there," Cohen warned.
Whatever happened afterward, Cohen didn't know—but judging from how Harry ca crawling out of the trunk later that afternoon, drenched in sweat, it couldn't have been too disastrous...
"Why are there suddenly a hippogriff and a horned snake in your trunk?!" Harry cried. "I was practicing the Impedint Jinx on a goat and turned around to find them both watching from behind!"
Cohen walked a slow circle around Harry, observing him.
"Still in one piece. That just ans they're well-trained."
"They were terrifying!" Harry gasped. "That snake even asked if I brought it fish—"
"Fish vendors are never ordinary people," Cohen said. "But thanks for reminding —I did promise it I'd stock a fish tank in there. Gotta swing by Hagrid's after lunch..."
Harry groaned. He was seriously jealous of Cohen's ability to be so relaxed—he was already regretting not spending more ti in the library with Hermione learning spells.
"Even if you had your current mories and started over from first year, you'd probably still procrastinate on howork until the last minute, and not open your books until exam week..." Cohen sighed.
"Humans are like that. Torn between learning from mistakes and staying the sa. We always end up fantasizing about an alternate tiline where we get everything without effort—just to soothe our guilty conscience..."
"Why are you suddenly being so philosophical?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.
"Maybe it's my morning mood." Cohen yawned, pulling on his clothes. "Makes feel powerful—though I am powerful, to be fair."
…
When Cohen and Harry arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, they ran into Ron and Hermione, who had just finished their History of Magic exam.
"I don't even want to imagine how I would've passed without Cohen's note-copying technique..." Ron said with lingering dread. "There were tons of questions I'd never even heard of—and one of them was completely nuts. We had to list all the goblin rebellion leaders' nas. Like—why would anyone need to know that?!"
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