Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 35: Don't make trouble, Harry and I are like brothers

After breakfast, Harry followed Wood and the others away from the table, while Hermione and Ron planned to return to the common room - the Gryffindor students were preparing banners and cheering props for the Quidditch match.

Cohen was called into the office by Quirrell.

"The Dark Lord has a plan..."

Quirrell closed the office door tightly and cast a soundproofing spell, then whispered to Cohen:

"We worked together to kill Harry Potter."

"Thank God, you finally got it."

Cohen pretended to be pleased and said:

"What do you mean? How are you going to kill him? A bunch of teachers and classmates are watching us today."

"After he got on his broom, we cursed it together—making it look like a broomstick accident and killing him."

"Indeed, this is his first game - it's normal for a newcomer to make mistakes for the first time." Cohen nodded.

"The spell is—"

"Wait a minute." Cohen didn't intend to let Voldemort use him as a thug so easily. "I've already spent a lot of energy and time here with you..."

"?"

Quirrell looked at Coin in confusion. He thought Coin would be very interested in this - after all, every time Coin killed small animals in his office, the look in his eyes was even more Voldemort-like than Voldemort's.

"..."

Coin extended a hand toward Quirrell.

"doing what?"

Quirrell asked confusedly, thinking Cohen wanted a high five or a handshake or something, so he put his hand on Cohen's.

"What are you doing!"

Cohen shook off Quirrell's hand in disgust:

"I want my wages—helping you with this job carries the risk of being exposed. I've already paid my tuition, after all. What if I murder a classmate and the other teachers find out? Who's going to compensate me for the money I lost?"

"This little thing..."

Quirrell was a little confused about Cohen's strange way of thinking, but it was not a difficult problem.

The Dark Lord's goals are far more important than a few gold Galleons, and this child's ideals are still not lofty enough.

Helpless, Quirrell took out three gold galleons and put them in Cohen's hand.

"Harry is my dearest friend, brother...we even sleep together every night..."

Cohen sighed.

Who are you trying to fool with three Galleons?

The professors at Hogwarts are guaranteed to earn a minimum of 150 Galleons a month!
"?"

Quirrell couldn't believe his ears.

"It'll cost more," Cohen continued.

"..."

……

Finally, after getting 180 Galleons from Quirrell for free, Cohen agreed to Quirrell's plan to kill Harry together.

In fact, this plan was doomed to fail. There were so many teachers on the field, and even if Harry fell, he wouldn't be seriously injured.

Cohen suspected that Voldemort gave this order just to vent his anger, after all, Harry was unsportsmanlike and killed him by using the knuckle armor at level one.

"Have you memorized the spell?" Quirrell asked anxiously. "I have."

Cohen demonstrated to Quirrell's turban - the scarf that was stuck to his head by magic fell off instantly, revealing Voldemort on the back of his head who sneezed due to the sudden contact with cold air.

"If you don't believe me, I'll demonstrate it again—"

"no need!"

Quirrell stopped him quickly, and before Voldemort lost his temper, he quickly rolled his scarf back up over his head.

The sudden exposure of the back of his head also made Quirrell shudder.

"Tsk tsk tsk..."

No wonder bald people wear hats in winter...

Cohen looked at Quirrell's bald head with pity—

Then he was kicked out by Quirrell.

Carrying the heavy purse, Cohen returned to the Gryffindor common room with satisfaction.

The Gryffindor students were busy preparing supplies for the match, including but not limited to: a banner made from a bed sheet soiled by Peter Pettigrew (Cohen thought Peter had a nightmare and wet the bed, disgusting), with the words "Potter will win" written on it; a large number of red and gold "cheer sticks"; some kind of cylindrical object that could amplify the sound (not all wizards knew how to use amplification spells)...

"Cohen! Look at Hermione's spell!" Ron waved the banner at Cohen excitedly. "The paint on it is alive!"

"No need to wave - I can see it." Cohen dodged quickly. He didn't really want to have any contact with the bed sheets stained with unknown stains by the short, wretched, middle-aged rat-like man.

"Now Harry can definitely see—what's that in your hand?" said Ron cheerfully, suddenly noticing the purse in Cohen's hand.

"The pocket money I earned from working for the professor is worth the weekends I've been working overtime at Quirrell's for several weeks." Cohen spread his hands and said, "When is the Quidditch game? Should we go pick a good seat?"

“It’s best to be on the top floor—that way you get a better view,” Cohen added.

Of course, it was to better keep an eye on Harry, but even though he took Quirrell's money, Cohen didn't intend to really help him.

By then, Snape, Quirrell, and Coin's spells would be cast on Harry's broom, and Quirrell certainly wouldn't be able to tell what Coin had done.

After Cohen's reminder, the Gryffindor students immediately chose to rush to the Quidditch field at 10:15 to prevent the Slytherin students from occupying the top position - as if their fight for position could affect the outcome of the game.

When they arrived at the circular stadium, there were already quite a few students sitting there scattered around. The weather was nice today, and everyone was very concerned about the performance of Harry, the first seeker to join the Quidditch team in his first year in a hundred years.

"Hagrid? You're here so early too?" Cohen saw Hagrid sitting in the top row, and Hagrid looked a little nervous.

"Of course—Harry's first game!" Hagrid rubbed his black beetle-like eyes and made a sound like sobbing through his nose. "Just like his dad... Um—you want to sit here and watch it with us?"

Except for Corn, Ron and Hermione, the other little wizards didn't dare to sit next to the big guy Hagrid.

It wasn't because Hagrid was so scary, but because he always moved so much that it was easy to get elbowed if you sat next to him.

Almost at the same time, Coin and Hermione dug out books from their bags within five seconds of waiting.

"Wait - you guys - it's Saturday!" Ron looked at the two guys next to him in disbelief who were reading even on the Quidditch field.

"Waiting for the competition to start is boring," Cohen said reasonably. "You know, we can only study at Hogwarts for seven years in total. Excluding holidays, there are only 266 weeks left - time is running out."

Hermione hummed in agreement beside her.

"That sounds like what my distant cousin said after he got dragon pox. He always complains that he doesn't have much time left to live." Ron's mouth twitched. "We still have hundreds of years before graduation -"

"Only six and a half years left," Hermione corrected, but she never took her eyes off the book. "Not hundreds of years, Ron. You need to focus more on your studies."

Cohen declined to comment.

Because the 266-week statement was just an excuse. Cohen didn't want to be the king of the roll at this time.

But he had to hurry up and learn the counter-spell of the "Disrupting Spell" taught by Quirrell, so as to avoid causing Harry to fall because of his participation - at least he could pretend in front of Quirrell and show that he was participating in the spell.

(End of this chapter)