No matter how it all went down, Dobby is free now, and that's what counts.
Cohen didn't say much about what happened at Malfoy Manor, and the others didn't bombard him with questions either.
Ron suggested heading to the lake to catch Fred and George's fireworks show, while Hermione insisted on sticking to her end-of-term revision plan.
"Exams are still two months away," Ron said, clicking his tongue. "You could probably cram for two days and still come top of the year."
"It's thirty-seven days, not two months," Hermione shot back, heaving two thick books onto the common room table. "Good thing the attacks stopped in February—otherwise, there's no way I'd be on my third round of revisions by now."
"That was awful," Ron said, shaking his head. "What about you two, Harry? Cohen?"
"Hermione's right—I need to study too," Cohen replied. Truth was, he just wanted to play his game. Edward's birthday gift—a DLC for his D&D magic board game—was still unfinished.
Little wizards have to prep for exams, but a little Dementor like him? He just had to lift a finger, and that was already more than enough for any young witch or wizard to handle. Unless Hogwarts went completely bonkers and made a custom exam for every student, Cohen wasn't sweating the finals.
"I'll join you guys later," Harry said, unusually opting not to tag along with Ron. "Gotta hit the bathroom first."
"Go for it—wait, no! Fred's only got one crate of Filibuster Fireworks! I need to snag a spot before they're all gone!" Ron bolted out of the room at lightning speed.
Cohen slipped out of the common room too, heading for the Room of Requirement down another corridor.
But Harry didn't go straight to the bathroom. Instead, he hurried after Cohen.
"There's no bathroom this way," Cohen said, tilting his head at Harry, who'd caught up to him.
"I know," Harry said, his eyes darting away for a second. "I didn't mention something important earlier—"
Cohen pretty much knew what Harry was getting at. No matter how much Harry tried to fool himself, he couldn't dodge the truth.
Before the school year started, Dobby had told Harry, "There's a student helping that wizard whose name we can't even say."
Back then, Harry hadn't told them who that student was.
And just moments ago, Harry had brought up how "Dobby once had a bad opinion of Cohen."
It didn't take a genius to figure out that Harry could easily connect the dots now: Cohen was the one who'd been scheming with Mr. Malfoy about bringing Voldemort back.
He just hadn't wanted to believe it.
"Like what?" Cohen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Did you… talk to Malfoy's dad about something?" Harry looked up, meeting Cohen's eyes. "Dobby's bad opinion of you—I kind of guessed it before. Dobby said a student was helping Voldemort. Everyone thought it was Theodore Nott, but he confessed to Professor Dumbledore that 'Voldemort approached him mid-year.' Thing is, Dobby knew about this over the summer."
"Yep, that's me—the one chatting with an ex-Death Eater about how to bring Voldemort back," Cohen said casually.
"!!!"
Harry's breath caught in his throat.
He hadn't expected Cohen to just admit it like that—why would he…?
"Yeah, yeah, you've seen through my little secret," Cohen went on, smirking. "I'm the kind of guy who, after nearly dying from a Killing Curse, decides, 'Hey, why not help the guy who tried to kill me come back to life?'"
He kept going, totally deadpan: "Then I'll just wait for him to revive so he can kill me all over again…"
"Pfft—" Harry's nerves, wound tight a second ago, unraveled as he let out a laugh.
Even the portrait of a sleeping lady on the wall nearby couldn't hide a smirk.
"Do I really look like the type who's begging to get killed?" Cohen asked, turning the question back on him.
"No way," Harry said, feeling a weight lift off his chest. "So, over the summer…"
"Ever since Quirrell hit me with that Killing Curse, I realized I needed to start planning for what happens if he comes back," Cohen explained. "Dumbledore said it himself—he'll return eventually. Judging by the messes he's stirred up these past two years, he's desperate to find a way to revive."
"So you went to the Malfoys' place to…" Harry started piecing it together.
"Who knows Voldemort better than a Death Eater?" Cohen said.
That was a lie, though. Death Eaters didn't really know Voldemort—they just saw him as powerful and terrifying, someone to follow for their own gain.
"Lucius Malfoy was one of Voldemort's top guys back in the day," Cohen continued. "But the good news? From what I tricked him into spilling, he doesn't want Voldemort back. He's not out there trying to track him down either."
"How'd you trick him?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"I was Voldemort's 'partner' back in first year, remember?" Cohen said, waggling his eyebrows. "I just dropped a few details about Voldemort, and he bought it hook, line, and sinker. I know stuff only Voldemort and the Death Eaters would—like how he tried to recruit me that year."
"Genius!" Harry grinned.
"Plus, I got some dirt on the other Death Eaters," Cohen added. "Pretty much all the ones obsessed with bringing Voldemort back are locked up in Azkaban."
"What's Azkaban?" Harry asked.
That's my home, little Harry.
"It's a wizard prison," Cohen said instead. "Those Death Eaters aren't breaking out anytime soon. We've got a few years to study and prepare—until something unexpected happens, like the chaos these past two years. He's always going to try coming back, so we need to be ready before he does."
"But we'll stop him," Harry said, his resolve firming up.
"Yep," Cohen said, nodding at Harry's determination.
Inside the Room of Requirement
"Also, my old man used to say that when one devil disappears, a bigger, badder one pops up to keep the balance," Cohen said, chatting with the Earl while fiddling with his chessboard. They were debating whether to help Voldemort or not. "If Voldemort's gone for good and those scattered Silver Keys pull off something huge, won't I just end up the next big bad guy everyone hates?"
"There's no such thing as devils in this world—hold on, you have an uncle?" the Earl asked.
"Forget that part. The real issue here is me turning into public enemy number one. It's depressing—you don't even care," Cohen said, faking a pout. "You just munch on owl treats all day, while poor little me—a powerless, discriminated-against Dementor—has to think about so much just to survive…"
"Call out your fire dragon, basilisk, nightmare, and unicorn from that box of yours, then say that again with a straight face," the Earl said dryly. "I always feel like I don't fit in with you lot because I'm not dangerous enough."
"That's only because the Ministry doesn't have a record of a magic-wielding owl. If they sent you to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, you'd definitely get a 5X rating," Cohen teased. "Wizards would have to watch out for an owl swinging a wand at them."
"If that ever gets out, you're the first one I'm ambushing," the Earl shot back. "My little owl Patronus isn't exactly a saint either."
"Wait a sec…"
Cohen frowned, staring into the chessboard box.
"I know this sounds nuts, but could you jump into my game right now? Bring your wand, make a cool owl character in the box—something gorgeous—and seduce this level-14 she-owl thing in front of me. I have no idea what it even is, but it just ate one of my key pieces, and I can't beat it."