Hogwarts, i am Dementor

After leaving behind a hesitant Harry, who eventually went back to the dorm to play chess with Ron, Cohen successfully made his way to the grounds outside the castle.

"Damn it, in *Hogwarts Legacy*, you could just use Floo Powder to teleport straight into the Forbidden Forest!"

The Forbidden Forest's location was obvious—and so was Cohen's, for that matter.

Between the castle and the forest stretched a flat, open expanse of grass. Crossing it unnoticed during the day was next to impossible, to say the least.

Still, Cohen managed to slip in by pretending to visit Hagrid to make friends, then faking a detour and diving straight into the forest.

The cost? His pockets were now stuffed with rock-hard rock cakes—perfect for chucking at monsters if things got dicey.

The moment he stepped into the Forbidden Forest, the reasonably bright sunlight outside was mostly blocked by the canopy.

The ground was a tangle of gnarled old roots, and towering ancient trees stretched their branches overhead, forming a dense protective web. It was hard to imagine flying a broomstick through here.

The air carried the scent of earth and decaying leaves. Cohen glanced around, occasionally spotting mushrooms and herbs listed in *One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi*.

But he hadn't seen any creatures with a soul strength above 2 yet—meaning all he'd encountered so far were bugs.

Cohen had no interest in sucking worm souls, though. They only had 1 point of soul strength, and that was just because the system's minimum label was 1.

He could probably eat a castle's worth of worm souls and still not fill the gap in his own.

"Coo—"

The thought of coming here to eat souls stirred Cohen's hunger again.

Good thing he'd brought some candy to snack on—he wouldn't have to tough it out starving the whole way.

Hard work paid off. Cohen finally found a nest of magical creatures with 3 points of soul strength inside a tree hollow—

Ashwinders.

And he'd stumbled in just in time for the last few minutes of an Ashwinder laying its eggs. Ashwinders only lived for an hour, turning to ash after laying their clutch.

"If I don't eat it, it'll die anyway. The forest nurtures Ashwinders with everything it has, but Ashwinders give nothing back. Suck!"

Cohen slurped up the Ashwinder mama's soul—no big sensation. It didn't even feel as good as McGonagall's transfigured creation.

As the Ashwinder mama turned to ash after finishing its egg-laying, Cohen shifted his focus to the nest of eggs.

"Hiss…"

For the first time in a while, Cohen felt a twinge of conscience.

"These little guys will definitely burn this tree down once they hatch. Preventing forest fires is everyone's responsibility—suck!"

A nest of 1-point Ashwinder eggs, plus the 3-point mama, finally bumped Cohen's soul integrity up by 0.1%. But that was enough.

With enough quantity, even the tiniest gains could pile up into a mountain!

And the forest had no shortage of Ashwinder eggs.

Born from uncontrolled magical fires and capable of asexual reproduction, a single Ashwinder nest could spawn a massive colony if left unchecked.

The species was often culled for two reasons: their pest-like numbers and destructiveness, and their medicinal value—Ashwinder eggs were ingredients in love potions and could treat malaria.

In the spirit of not wasting anything, Cohen froze the eggs with a Freezing Charm after sucking their souls, planning to save them for potion-making later.

Ashwinders were usually tricky to find, hiding in rock crevices and tree hollows, but Cohen had a unique edge—he could see soul strength tags through some obstacles.

So along the way, he went on a rampage, wiping out Ashwinders, freezing their eggs, and pocketing them.

Hagrid's rock cakes came in clutch too. Cohen dropped them along the path (to free up space for the eggs), ensuring he wouldn't get lost.

No need to worry about forest critters snatching the rock cakes either—aside from Hagrid, no human or animal could bite through those things…

Besides Ashwinders, Cohen occasionally spotted a few stray Acromantula spiderlings—

"Evil monsters! Suck!"

The forest gained two more dazed little eight-eyed spiders.

Acromantulas were clearly a step above Ashwinders. Even as juveniles, they had 4 points of soul strength.

Cohen swept through like a whirlwind, sucking the souls of every creature he passed—it felt like even a random dog crossing his path would get slurped.

Of course, if a critter was cute enough, Cohen let it go—

"Double-standard jerk."

Earl perched on a broken branch nearby, a black rat dangling from its beak, mumbling through its mouthful.

"Let's get one thing straight—cute gets a free pass to do whatever it wants," Cohen said.

He stuffed the last rock-hard frozen Ashwinder egg into his overflowing robe pockets and let a sleepy, adorable mooncalf toddle off, rolling his eyes at Earl, who'd shown up out of nowhere.

"Don't try acting cute with me. I can't unsee you cursing out a rat's entire family tree for a solid hour."

"Oh."

Earl straightened its tilted, cutesy head back to normal.

"Keep up your species extinction project in the forest then—I'm here to deliver a message. Harry Potter asked me to find you and see if you want to join them at Hagrid's at three this afternoon."

"Sure, I can snag some pricey unicorn hair or something from Hagrid—using Harry's clout," Cohen planned. "Tell Harry I'll head out at three. No need to wait for me at the castle."

Hogwarts' bell could be heard even from the forest's edge, so Cohen wasn't worried about losing track of time.

Earl flapped off, and Cohen pressed deeper into the forest's midsection.

The temperature dropped sharply here. Sunlight was almost completely blocked by the trees, and every now and then, an unknown creature with a soul strength of 7, 8, or even 10 darted past.

Cohen was starting to wonder if it was time to end this leveling trip. Thanks to his relentless efforts, the forest's Ashwinder clans and a few lost Acromantula spiderlings had boosted his soul integrity by a whopping 3.4%.

His soul strength was now at 15 points—way faster than trading Sin Points for soul fragments!

But there was a snag. His soul integrity growth seemed to have hit a wall. He'd reached 15 points by the time he'd smashed the fifth-to-last Ashwinder nest, but even now, the number hadn't budged by even 0.1%.

It looked like… these low-tier souls couldn't push him any further.

Suddenly, as Cohen prepared to turn back, he spotted shimmering silver blood streaked across some bush leaves.

Unicorn blood.

The trail led into the forest depths, hidden by thick shrubbery. The branches were bent and snapped, signs of someone crashing through carelessly.

Magic… mixed with the sweet scent of a soul. Cohen's heart pounded.

The only one attacking unicorns in the forest lately… was Quirrell, with Voldemort stuck to the back of his head, right?

He was already sucking unicorn blood this early? Cohen had thought that plot point wouldn't hit until later in the term.

Right now, Voldemort was way out of Cohen's league—40 points of soul strength! The shop didn't sell "Five-Minute Macho Man: Instant 100 Soul Strength Experience Cards." Taking on Voldemort now was suicide.

The Aurors hadn't managed to kill Cohen, but that didn't mean Voldemort—a veteran of the dark magic scene—couldn't. What if he had some Dementor-killing spell up his sleeve?

"Neigh—!!!"

Cohen was about to bolt when a loud horse cry rang out from behind him.

"Evil creature, get out of our territory!"

What? Evil creature? Had the centaurs chased Quirrell out? Was he behind Cohen?

A chaotic clatter of hooves followed. Cohen couldn't tell if Quirrell's fleeing footsteps were mixed in.

But with centaurs around, Quirrell probably wouldn't dare act up…

Cohen turned to look back, hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain Voldemort-star fleeing in a rage.

But, uh…

"This isn't the script, is it?" Cohen's mouth twitched. There was no Quirrell behind him—just centaurs. A quick scan showed at least ten of them.

The centaurs had their bows drawn like crescent moons, all aimed at Cohen!

[**Soul Strength: 15**]

Exactly within Cohen's edible range, but he wasn't about to kill centaurs unless they tried to kill him first.

The leader, a wild and proud centaur with a bushy beard, stared at Cohen for a long time before blurting out, with a weird look, "What the hell?"

"It's a strange foal, Bane, but we don't harm foals," a melancholic red-haired centaur beside him said, blocking Bane's arrow. "The one hurting the unicorns isn't him—"

Suddenly, a cold arrow shot from the direction of the unicorn blood. Cohen dodged it lightning-fast—then realized he could've sent out half his soul to scout ahead. If he'd known centaurs and Voldemort were here, he'd have bolted fifteen meters back.

*Whoosh!*

Another arrow followed, accompanied by more hoofbeats from that direction. Clearly, there was more than one centaur squad hunting Voldemort—one was flanking from the side.

Cohen could even hear the rustling of someone crashing through waist-high bushes.

If he didn't run now, he'd get accidentally skewered by another arrow-happy centaur crew!

Cohen wasn't ready to ditch this body—not only was it cute as heck, but a new one might make Edward and Rose grow distant. He didn't want to end up asking his parents creepy stuff like, "Do you love my soul or my body?"

Just as Cohen decided to book it, a certain unnamed Quirinus "Noseless Exclusive Rage-Star" Quirrell burst out of the bushes in a hooded black cloak.

Cohen yanked his own hood up—everyone was wearing a vest here; whoever showed their real name first would lose face.

Two seconds later, Quirrell was neck-and-neck with Cohen. Their escape routes aligned perfectly—because this was the flattest path in the forest.

"Small world, huh? You running too?"

(*End of Chapter*)