Hogwarts, i am Dementor

The birthday party was, honestly, a bit of a letdown.

Dudley didn't show up, and you could still hear shouting from the Dursleys' house next door. Cohen knew exactly why.

Dudley and Cohen barely knew each other—especially since Cohen had invited Harry, which, in Dudley's eyes, turned it into a freak-fest. If he showed up to something like that, his buddies would never let him live it down.

Meanwhile, Mr. Dursley's yelling was probably because he didn't want to miss a chance to suck up to Cohen's mom, Rose. Public opinion could make or break a company, after all.

And in Vernon's mind, the only way to stop Harry from blowing up the Nortons' house was to send someone from his own family to keep an eye on him—completely missing the fact that Harry only ever got into trouble after Dudley picked on him first.

For Harry, this "quiet" party might've been the only bright spot in his entire July.

For Cohen, though? Tomorrow was the real day to look forward to.

Because he'd finally get to scope out more samples to gauge the soul strength of a normal adult wizard—and pick up his first wand.

Having a wand had to feel different from going without. Whenever Cohen tried magic before, it always felt like his effort was going to the wrong place. Wizards casting the right way surely didn't deal with that awkwardness.

After walking Harry home, Cohen crashed early in his bedroom, gearing up for the Diagon Alley trip tomorrow.

Which wand would pick him? Wait… wands choose wizards—do they have souls in them? Could he suck them out? Are they like human souls? Would eating one boost his strength? If he drained every wand in Ollivander's shop, would Ollivander freak out? 

That's how it always went, from awake to asleep.

Cohen started snoring softly, just like any normal human kid, so when Rose slipped into his room, he didn't stir.

She set a big, neatly wrapped birthday gift by his bed, gave him a gentle kiss, and left quietly.

Outside Cohen's window, a dark shape darted off the sill with a *whoosh*. Under the cover of night, it passed a streetlamp, revealing itself.

A tabby cat, its face faintly marked with what looked like glasses. It padded up to a white-haired old man.

*Whoosh—* 

*Whoosh—* 

The streetlamp lights flickered as if yanked away by an invisible hand, streaming into the silver, old-fashioned lighter in the man's grip.

"Albus, I've got to admit, placing Cohen with the Nortons was a solid call."

The tabby's silhouette stretched in the darkness, morphing in a second or two into a stern-looking woman.

"Minerva, that was Edward and Rose's choice, not mine," Albus Dumbledore said with a chuckle. The stars and moons on his robe matched the summer night sky above. "It's wonderful to see a kid thrive in a home full of parental love."

"If only Harry could have the same," Minerva McGonagall replied, a touch of frustration in her voice. "His situation's downright miserable compared to Cohen's. I don't get why you'd ask the Nortons to keep their distance from him—even if it's just letting that poor boy enjoy a peaceful afternoon tea at the neighbors' on weekends."

"Different flowers need different care," Dumbledore said, winking playfully at McGonagall. "But no doubt, they'll both bloom beautifully."

"There's something else you might want to know about Cohen."

McGonagall hesitated, then decided to spill what she'd seen.

"Oh, Cohen's always doing good deeds. Last time I was here, I saw him help an old lady cross the street," Dumbledore said, clearly at ease with Cohen. "Sure, his origin's a bit unusual, but he's growing into a positive, healthy kid."

"He gave another kid a lollipop today," McGonagall said.

"That's great! Sharing's a big deal for a kid his age," Dumbledore replied, oblivious to the catch.

"But when the kid wasn't looking, he used magic to snatch it back. The poor thing cried for nearly fifteen minutes straight," McGonagall went on.

"…" Dumbledore fell silent.

"And that time you saw him help the old lady cross the street? He gave her directions too," McGonagall added, pausing.

Dumbledore had a hunch what was coming.

"That route made her walk an extra mile to her destination. Cohen was headed the same way but took the shorter path himself—just cutting through two shops," McGonagall said, rubbing her temples. "I dread to think what'll happen when he meets the Weasley twins."

"Young people always have wild ideas. Pranks don't mean evil…" 

Dumbledore's reassurance sounded like it might be for himself as much as her.

"Even grown wizards can lose themselves in the swirl of power, but Cohen's resisting those dark urges at an age when willpower's at its weakest. He's not like Voldemort."

At that name, McGonagall shivered involuntarily.

"Remember the day we found him?"

"That dark wizard's lab?" McGonagall's face clouded with bad memories. "All those bodies—over three hundred of them, eyes blank, like they'd been hit with Killing Curses. I still can't believe a kid under one did that. I'd rather think it was You-Know-Who, even if he was already gone by then."

"Roses grow thorns to protect themselves, Minerva… We can't reject their beauty just because they've got sharp edges."

---

"Cohen!" 

"Cohen!" 

The sky was still dim when urgent shouts from outside jolted Cohen awake.

"I want to sleep!" Cohen could barely open his eyes, let alone get up to open the door. "Kids can't wake up too early, or they'll turn into workhorses!"

In his dream, he'd seen his mom, Rose, sneak in at midnight to leave a birthday gift by his bed and kiss his forehead softly.

He'd also dreamed of two people he'd never met in this life but knew from movies in his last one.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore.

The two were chatting about him and Harry on a street under the night sky.

The dream felt so real that Cohen wondered if he'd somehow peeked at the actual scene while his mind wandered.

"Cohen! Dad's taking you to Diagon Alley today—get up quick, or I'll miss my third adventure with the Dungeons & Dragons club this afternoon!"

Good grief, what kind of middle-aged wizard gets hooked on playing "swords and sorcery" roleplay with a bunch of Muggle teens?

If he loves D&D that much, why not hit up a dragon farm and take on a real one? The wizards harvesting dragon blood would probably love someone taming those unruly fire-breathers for them. 

"Alright, alright, you win…" Cohen mumbled, groggily swapping out his pajamas. Then he noticed something new by his bed. "Give me a sec to change…"

A birthday gift?

Cohen snapped wide awake.

The wrapping matched the one from his dream exactly.

If the Rose he saw in his dream was real…

Cohen bolted to the mirror.

There, fading on his forehead, was a lipstick mark.

No way—did Old Man Dumbledore and McGonagall actually swing by last night? 

Wasn't that a total privacy invasion? They even saw him snatch that kid's lollipop! 

Wait, no, the bigger deal was what Dumbledore said at the end—about Cohen's origins…

A dark wizard's lab, over three hundred blank-eyed corpses… It sounded like baby Cohen had devoured all those dark wizards' souls.

Was his past self *that* hardcore? He'd thought he was some undeveloped underdog, but was he actually a prodigy who'd had his potential stripped away? 

Still, Dumbledore seemed pretty chill about him for now. Sounded like he checked in often, but Cohen's behavior was clearly meeting his expectations.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about the good guys taking him out before school started. Dementors weren't exactly "wholesome" creatures, after all.

As for Edward and Rose adopting him… something felt off. Just yesterday, Edward said he'd almost thought Cohen was a Muggle kid. That didn't sound like someone who knew about Cohen's dark magic lab experiment backstory.

But Dumbledore had said, "It was Edward and Rose's choice," meaning they must've known most of the story—and the risks—and still went for it.

Cohen felt a tiny pang in his chest. His adoptive parents' love was real, lies or not.

Setting aside the side stuff, Cohen just wanted to figure one thing out: how had he slipped out of his body to spy on the street?

And Dumbledore hadn't noticed a thing!

Basic sneaking had plenty of magical tricks, but pulling it off without the century's greatest wizard catching on? That was next-level.

Not that Cohen planned to peek at whether Dumbledore stashed a stack of Grindelwald pics in private. No, this was about ultra-safe info-gathering. Think about it—a god's-eye view could flip a game on its head. In real life? Even better.

And it wouldn't get him caught or banned!

But how could he trigger it again?

Sleep? Wasn't that kind of a lame activation method? 

Cohen flopped back onto his bed, sinking into the pillow.

He was way too awake and hyped to fall back asleep now—physical knockout might be his only shot.

But as he closed his eyes, something felt off.

Like he… split apart? 

That was the best way to describe it. His soul cracked open, with just one spot still tightly linked.

And he could control the shape of the two halves—or see everything around him from his soul's perspective, including his body lying on the bed.

If all of his soul left, though, his body went into a "no vital signs" fake-death mode until he came back.

He could stretch his soul, squash it, or roll it out like dough into a cloak-like thing—

Wait a sec…

"Isn't this basically a freaking Dementor?!"

Cohen morphed himself into a cloak shape and took a good look at his soul.

Holy crap—a black, tattered rag look. Add some rotting hands, and he'd be ready to apply for a cushy Azkaban gig.

After messing around more, he found another trick.

He could leave half his soul in his body and send the other half out. That way, he could control his body *and* scout with his soul—though since the halves were still connected at one point, there was a range limit.

That connection could stretch or squish too, but it maxed out at about fifteen meters—coincidentally, the distance from his room to the far end of Privet Drive.

No wonder he'd overheard Dumbledore and McGonagall chatting on the street last night without even realizing it.

**[Ding! Special Ability Unlocked: Soul Shaping (1/10)]**

So *that's* how the special ability slot worked?!

Cohen had thought the system was stingy for not tossing him a newbie gift pack, but turns out he had to stumble into these abilities himself to unlock them.

"Man, compared to those web novel transmigrators, I'm basically starting in the dirt…"

With the new trick figured out, next up was washing up, eating, and heading to Diagon Alley with Edward for school supplies.

Before heading downstairs, Cohen unwrapped Rose's gift.

It was a snow globe big enough to need both hands, with three little clay figures living inside a snowy village. They were "alive"—Cohen could even hear cheerful laughter from the house they'd just walked into.

Did these things sleep at night? Because having a giggling ball in the dorm might get creepy fast.

All in all, though, Rose's gift was awesome. Cohen always loved warm, cozy stuff like this. Back on Earth in his last life, he rarely got such blatant "love"—he hated admitting it, but yeah, he'd been an orphan.

The clay figures ran on a petrification charm, though—no souls. So no emergency dessert stash here.

"How're we getting to Diagon Alley later?"

At the table, Cohen gulped down his last butter-slathered bread with some milk and eyed Edward, who was counting Galleons and Sickles.

Floo Powder? Side-Along Apparition?

"Driving, obviously. What else—magic carpet?" Edward rubbed his hands, figuring they might have enough left over to snag Cohen a pet for school.

(End of Chapter)