"Aren't you going to tell Rose the truth?" Cohen asked. "She thinks you're one of the people who snatched her kid."
"I thought she'd kill …" Herbert said, his face pale as death. "But after she found out where the experint ca from… she just took you and left. Didn't do a thing to ."
"So things are worse than death," Cohen said with a nod. "Still, she might've figured you gave her that spell and tore your own soul apart to fix it—so she let you off the hook."
"Knowing all this… you don't hate ?" Herbert asked, his voice shaky with uncertainty. "Leaving your soul all patched-up and broken like that… I an…"
"Being alive's enough for ," Cohen said, brushing it off. "Like I told you, the real culprits are already in my stomach. Rose and Edward chose to rip their souls apart to save their son. Whether you keep beating yourself up or let it go and move on—that's up to you. I'm still kicking, sticking around with them, so everyone wins. All in all, it's a decent outco."
"R-Really?" Herbert asked, his gloom hanging heavy.
"Man, quit acting so mopey. Thanks for the birthday gift, though," Cohen said, ready to head out. "Anyway, I don't bla you anymore. Rose and Edward seem to have let it go too. If you ever sort yourself out, I'll help you tell them the truth. See you at Christmas!"
"Oh, uh… sure…" Herbert mumbled, awkwardly standing to see him off.
But Cohen paused at the door and glanced back. "What do you want for Christmas?"
"Huh?" Herbert blinked, confused.
"I said, what do you want for Christmas? I'll have the Earl drop it off for you this year," Cohen repeated.
"Wool socks?"
"What, are you channeling Dumbledore or sothing?" Cohen asked, giving him a weird look. "But fine, socks are cheap."
---
After piecing together everything that'd happened to him, Cohen left Borgin Manor and hopped back on the Knight Bus.
"Back already?" Tuck, the foggy-brained conductor, vaguely rembered this kid calling himself Draco. "Weren't you off to jail?"
"No, I was visiting a relative in jail. Not going to jail, thanks," Cohen corrected, a little annoyed, before tossing two Galleons at Tuck. "Take to Surrey, Little Whinging, 5 Privet Drive."
Another bumpy ride—Cohen swore he'd never set foot on this thing again. Once he'd grabbed so dical supplies to deal with the Horcruxes, he'd start practicing Apparition ASAP.
By evening, he was dragging his suitcase up to the front door.
*Knock, knock, knock—*
No keys on him.
"Rose? You're back early?" Edward's voice called from behind the door.
He opened it—and saw no one.
"Look down. It's ," Cohen said, lugging his suitcase into the living room and flopping onto the couch.
"Didn't you go on a trip?!" Edward asked, eyes wide. "How're you back already? It's only day two—"
"Got my heart broken," Cohen lied, sounding exhausted. "Traveling sucked, so I decided to co ho."
"You walked back?" Edward asked, sitting next to him.
"Took the Knight Bus," Cohen said, eyes closed. "Stuck out my wand, and bam, there it was. Oh, you want so chocolate? Ca with the ride. Too bitter for ."
He fished two pieces of chocolate from his pocket, accidentally dropping the little wooden figurine Herbert had given him.
Edward froze for a second—then it clicked.
"Aw, don't worry about it," he said, throwing an arm around Cohen. "Love's a gamble—sotis it works, sotis it doesn't. But hey, she carved you a little statue, so you must've ant sothing to her…"
Cohen slipped out from under Edward's arm before the conversation got weirder. He didn't want "visiting Herbert" tangled up with "dumped by a girlfriend."
"By the way, Norbert ate all our sheep," Cohen said, switching gears. "Don't give that look—I didn't eat them. Yeah, all three hundred-sothing, gone. So I'm thinking we starve him for a few days to teach him a lesson. Still, before school starts, we'll need to buy more sheep."
---
Life at ho settled into sothing normal after that. Cohen started soaking up Rose and Edward's love without much guilt. After all, "Cohen" really was their son—at least soul-wise, a year ago.
By early August, he couldn't resist anymore and ate the Voldemort soul fragnts from the diary and Hufflepuff's Cup.
His soul completeness jumped to 33%. The diary's soul strength was so pathetic it barely nudged him up 1%, while the cup gave a decent 2%.
Progress was progress, though. He'd half-expected the diary to be as useless as those baby Acromantulas—zero boost. Maybe being a Horcrux made it more potent than chowing down on regular souls.
Which brought up a question—
With the second-year big bad now digesting in his gut, would this year be smooth sailing?
Cohen hoped so, but sothing in his gut felt off.
Besides the Horcrux stuff, Edward filled him in on so news: Harry had been whisked off to the Weasleys'.
"The Dursleys were *pissed*," Edward said from the living room, flipping through the paper. "Harry ssed up sothing big, but the Weasley kids ca and got him. Oh—looks like your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year's Gilderoy Lockhart. Front page says he applied at Hogwarts, and they've stopped hiring for the post. Guess it's a done deal. He's kind of a big deal, huh?"
"The more soone's missing, the more they flaunt," Cohen said, scarfing down breakfast. "He's a total lady-killer—hope Mom doesn't fall for him. I bet he's not even as good a teacher as you."
"I'm *that* good in your book, huh?" Edward said, squinting. Was that a complint or…?
"How'd they get Harry out? Flying car?" Cohen steered the convo back.
"They drove, yeah—but don't be silly, a car in the sky would get nabbed by the Ministry. Arthur runs the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," Edward explained. "I heard a racket from the Dursleys' place, but they got Harry out alive, so it's probably fine."
"Maybe," Cohen said, not specifying if he ant the car or the Dursleys.
On the morning of August 10th, an owl from Hogwarts dropped off Cohen's next-term booklist.
"See? Total narcissist," Cohen said, pointing at the seven Lockhart "masterpieces" on the list, proving his earlier bet with Edward.
"Who uses novels as textbooks?" Edward muttered, baffled. "Unless… they're all true?"
"If he were that great, he wouldn't be peddling books and signed smiles," Cohen said dryly. "I'd skip his stuff if I could."
Too bad textbooks were non-negotiable—especially new additions like these. No secondhand copies to be found.
That sa day, Cohen and Edward hit Diagon Alley for books and new robes—Cohen had shot up, and his old ones were getting short.
No sign of Harry or Ron, sadly.
Passing the broom shop, Edward asked if Cohen was still afraid of heights.
"Only Mom thinks I'd be scared of flying forever just 'cause I fell off the roof at seven," Cohen said, digging up the mory. "But Quidditch? Nah. Too much ti away from napping. Harry's always scrambling to finish howork Sunday night because of it."
Once school prep was done, the days before term flew by like soone hit fast-forward.
Cohen bought 327 more sheep for Norbert. After three weeks of hunger, the dragon didn't scarf them all down in revenge—instead, it started pacing itself daily.
"Norbert's got potential. Pretty obedient," Cohen said to the Earl the night before school started. "So what about you, Mr. Earl? That package the post owl dropped off today… don't tell it's so 'egg-laying potion' from Eeylops Owl Emporium specially for ?"
**(End of Chapter)**
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