Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 211 High imitation spell! Xiao Fufu!

"Then you squat here and don't move." Cohen said, "It's just Harry's blood. I'm going to go now-"

"Wait..." Voldemort stopped Cohen, "Not now..."

"Why are you dragging it out?" Cohen looked at Voldemort suspiciously. "Are you a traitor? Why do you suddenly want to stop doing this? Usually, only traitors will try their best to stop their plans when they are about to succeed..."

"I'm not—wait…I'm the one who came up with this plan!"

Voldemort suddenly remembered that he was the Dark Lord who wanted to kill Harry Potter - Cohen's sudden doubt almost made him lose confidence.

He had often deceived others before, so when his "teammates" suspected him, he was very skilled at shaking off suspicion - but this time he was the leader! Which leader would be a traitor!

"Then why did you stop me? If it was any later, the students would have gone back to the dormitory and it would have been difficult for me to do it," Cohen said.

"My resurrection requires a more solemn occasion... It definitely cannot be in this corner..." Voldemort's tone was filled with arrogance. "I must let those servants who are hiding everywhere, afraid to face their masters, come and admit their mistakes..."

"It's quite a ritual," Cohen said. "How does that conflict with me going to get blood now? I'll need it sooner or later. I'm going to slit Harry's throat now—"

"The blood must be fresh..." said Voldemort. "It cannot be away from the body for more than five minutes... The spell that reshapes the body requires three things... the blood of my enemies, the flesh of my servants, and the bones of my father..."

"You still have parents?" Cohen said in feigned surprise.

“…” Voldemort felt offended.

"So you have to dig your father's grave, right?" Cohen continued. "You're a bit unfilial, but I'm happy to help you do it. I've never dug a grave before."

"He was a stupid Muggle..." Voldemort had no feelings for old Tom Riddle. "I killed him with my own hands, so naturally I don't care whether his grave is intact..."

"That's quite a life." Cohen nodded. "If you hate him so much, I can help you dance on your father's grave."

"As you wish... it's not important..." said Voldemort. "And the servant's flesh... I have found a suitable and safe candidate..."

"That mouse?" Cohen said. "Is his name Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes... He is an Animagus..." Voldemort explained to Coin, "The letter I gave you today was delivered by him..."

"Ooooh!" Cohen raised his eyebrows. "You can use his servant's meat."

"That's right..." said Voldemort. "Now we just have to take Harry Potter to my father's grave... It's secluded there... We can resurrect him out of Dumbledore's sight... and gather the Death Eaters..."

"That's a good idea," said Cohen. "How can I get Harry from Hogwarts to your father's grave without Dumbledore noticing?"

"You can't Apparate at Hogwarts... but you can use a Portkey..." Voldemort said, "There is a spell that can create a Portkey... but it requires a very powerful wizard..."

"You, teach me." Cohen stretched out his hand.

"..."

Voldemort was silent for a moment.

Is he and Cohen just a normal partnership? Is Cohen a bit...

"Okay..." Voldemort said helplessly.

Peter was too weak and he couldn't learn this spell at all.

The other slightly stronger subordinates were either imprisoned in Azkaban, their whereabouts were unknown, or they were suspected of mutiny.

It seems that only Cohen is a relatively normal choice - this kid can even cause a huge explosion with the killing curse, which shows that his magic power is strong enough.

After Voldemort carefully explained to Cohen the key points of the "Mentos" spell, Cohen vowed that he could do it. "Don't worry, it doesn't sound that difficult," Cohen said.

Then, Cohen found an old cup in the room, drew his wand and pointed it at it.

"Mentos."

There was a flash of blue light, and Voldemort praised happily.

"Very good, very good..." Voldemort felt that this plan was much simpler than the previous two years. "Take me with you and see if we can reach our destination..."

This magic was successful from every angle - Voldemort saw the correct magical fluctuations and the correct magical influence, which was normal -

Coin grabbed the book where Voldemort was and placed his finger on the cup.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

"You taught me fake spells?" asked Cohen.

"Impossible." Voldemort insisted.

What I taught was correct, what Cohen cast was correct, and the spell did seem to be effective—

"Then why doesn't it work? Are you saying there's something wrong with my spellcasting?" Cohen said, pretending to be angry. "Avada Kedavra!"

A beam of green light hit the cup accurately, and it was instantly shattered by this spell filled with murderous intent and anger.

The count flew to a distant rafter in fear, to prevent the two lunatics from having any idea about him.

“That’s not the reason…” Voldemort didn’t want to break up with Cohen over such a small matter. He had never seen such a situation before. “That doesn’t make sense… The spell seems to have worked…”

High imitation spell! Little Fufu!

Cohen's expression management is very good - now his face is full of dissatisfaction and anger.

I used to think that the book "Advanced Imitation Spells" had no practical use - now it seems quite impressive.

Voldemort couldn't find the problem, and Coin didn't "know" what the problem was.

Finally, Cohen suggested looking for other more powerful Death Eaters - there were always a few people hiding, such as Barty Crouch Jr.

"He is dead..." said Voldemort. "In Azkaban..."

"He didn't die. He was taken away by old Barty Crouch," Cohen said. "The Dementors told me that because old Barty sent a fresher soul in at that time."

"!"

Voldemort's red eyes that emerged from the book showed a hint of surprise.
"The Dementors told you?"

"Yes, they took good care of me. You know, we Dementors are very united," said Cohen.

"Barty Crouch Jr. is indeed a somewhat useful Death Eater..." Voldemort agreed.

"I saw his name in the school's trophy room. He did quite well in school—perhaps even better than Peter," Cohen said, stroking his chin. "I can go to the Crouchs' house over there during the holidays. Maybe I can get him out—old Barty must have trapped him somehow."

(End of this chapter)