Hogwarts, i am Dementor

The fireplace at the Norton house wasn't connected to the Floo Network, and Edward wasn't exactly confident about his Apparition skills.

"I had to retake the test once. The examiner added an extra task—making a chipmunk Apparate with me. Good thing he didn't notice the chipmunk lost its tail afterward, or I might've had to redo the whole thing," Edward said with a helpless shrug.

"Then let's just take the car. At least a car accident won't leave me missing a tail…" Cohen felt a sudden chill somewhere and immediately scrapped the idea of getting to Diagon Alley through magical means.

Edward patted Cohen's head with satisfaction. Today, Cohen was a bit more well-behaved than usual.

"Since you're about to step into the wizarding world, next month your mom and I will head to the Ministry of Magic to get the Floo Network hooked up. It'll make getting around a lot easier."

In the past, whenever Edward tried to touch Cohen's hair, Cohen would dodge away, but Rose never had that problem when she reached for him.

Maybe Cohen's little head was busy imagining what the wizarding world would be like.

"He looks calm on the outside, but inside, he's probably dying to see that fairy-tale world from the stories, right?" Edward thought cheerfully as he tossed a deep-breathing Cohen into the backseat before getting in the car.

Cohen's repeated deep breaths were just him trying to keep himself in check—switching to "social mode" meant being around people, and with more people came more souls. The sweet scent of those souls always triggered his hunger.

To avoid accidentally snacking on someone's soul and getting hauled off to Azkaban by the Ministry's Aurors to hang out with purebred Dementors, Cohen had to suppress that urge.

Sweet candy tasted a lot like souls—a perfect substitute. He always carried a pocketful whenever he went out.

On the way, Cohen finally realized that, as an eleven-year-old who supposedly knew next to nothing about the wizarding world, he should probably show a little curiosity. Otherwise, it'd be too suspicious.

"Are there… families in the wizarding world? Like, clans or something?" Cohen asked, pretending to be clueless.

"Of course there are. Wherever there are people, there are bound to be prominent families," Edward replied.

He swerved around a car crawling along in front of them and ran a red light.

The traffic cop on the side of the road didn't seem to notice Edward's behavior at all, which made Cohen suspect Edward had enchanted his car like Arthur Weasley—explaining how someone with Edward's driving skills hadn't gotten a single ticket in all these years.

Edward gave a quick rundown of some well-known wizarding families. There were a lot, but Cohen could only remember the handful mentioned often in the *Harry Potter* books.

"Do you and Mom have a family? Like, a wizard one?" This time, Cohen wasn't faking it—he was genuinely curious.

"Us? We both come from wizarding families, I guess. My parents—your grandparents—were wizards, but it seems there weren't any wizards further back than that," Edward answered. "Your mom's a bit different, though. She used to be part of the Burke family. According to some wizards' 'pure-blood ideology,' that makes her nobility."

"Used to be?" Cohen knew of the Burke family. They were one of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight," but they'd supposedly fallen from grace.

Nowadays, the only place you'd see the name "Burke" was at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley, and even then, it was just Mr. Borgin running the show—no "Mr. Burke" in sight.

"She got kicked out of the family for dating me," Edward said with a sigh. "But according to her, even if they hadn't disowned her, she wouldn't have stayed anyway."

"That family was deep into dark magic, especially when You-Know-Who was in power. They were at their peak back then and even threatened to toss her—a 'good-for-nothing disgrace'—into a pile of Inferi. No wonder your mom ended up in Gryffindor. Her courage is something this Hufflepuff could never match in a lifetime."

"Even though you're a bit lazy, kind of a goof-off, and once left me at the zoo for three hours," Cohen said, patting Edward's shoulder from the backseat, "you're a good dad. I'm giving you my official stamp of approval—thanks."

No matter how many little flaws Edward had, he truly loved his family—and Cohen, this dark magic experiment gone rogue.

When it came to the good things in life, people should enjoy and cherish them instead of fixating on the imperfections.

Edward was clearly touched by Cohen's sudden gratitude. From the rearview mirror, Cohen could see his stubbly face trembling slightly.

"We're here—the Leaky Cauldron."

The car parked between a bookstore and a record shop. Cohen could see a small, shabby pub squeezed between the two glossy storefronts, its faded sign hanging above the entrance.

**[The Leaky Cauldron]**

"This place is pretty famous in the wizarding world. It's also the entrance to Diagon Alley," Edward said, stepping out of the car and discreetly wiping the corner of his eye while filling Cohen in.

"Back in my day, I was kind of a big deal in Diagon Alley."

Pushing open the creaky wooden door, the noise and mingled smells of food and drink from inside the Leaky Cauldron hit Cohen like a wave.

A few old ladies sat in the corner sipping sherry.

**[Soul Strength: 27]**

Pretty high soul strength. These grannies didn't look like pushovers.

But Cohen couldn't figure out how the one in the middle was drinking *and* smoking at the same time. Did she have two throats or something?

Behind the bar, a nearly bald middle-aged man who looked like a shriveled walnut—Tom—was wiping glasses and chatting with a customer.

**[Soul Strength: 19]**

Tom the barkeep could use some work. His soul strength wasn't even as high as Rose's, and she'd been living in the Muggle world this whole time.

Edward and Cohen's arrival drew a few glances, but no one recognized Edward. They just assumed he was some random wizard passing through.

It left Edward a little embarrassed.

"Ha, looks like ten years away really does turn you into a stranger…" Edward said, nudging Cohen through the bar toward the other side. "Let's go get your school supplies first."

Weaving through the noisy long tables, Cohen was led to a brick wall in the back courtyard of the pub.

From his quick observations, Cohen had already pieced together something that had been bugging him: adult wizards' soul strength seemed to range from 15 to 40. Every wizard in the Leaky Cauldron fit that pattern, no exceptions.

Edward's 10-point soul strength was abnormally low—there might be some special reason behind it. But if Edward and Rose weren't going to spill the beans, Cohen wasn't about to pry too hard.

For now, he'd let things play out naturally. He still needed time to grow into his own in this wizarding world.

Good thing Dumbledore seemed to have silently okayed Cohen's existence as a dark magic experiment. Otherwise, he'd probably be stressing over his identity right now.

"…two over, three up…" Edward muttered, reading from a note Rose had given him, then tapped a brick three times with his wand.

Cohen's mouth twitched. Who the heck designed this stone door to Diagon Alley with a literal gesture password?

What, were Muggles wandering into the Leaky Cauldron or something? Did they really need a secondary security gate?

"Sometimes people get drunk in the Leaky Cauldron and stumble into Diagon Alley causing trouble," Edward explained, tucking the note back into his pocket. "Good thing Rose still remembers this, or after ten years, I'd have forgotten how to get in."

The brick he'd tapped started to tremble and shift. A small hole appeared in the middle, growing larger and larger.

In a matter of seconds, a wide archway opened up before Cohen, leading to a winding cobblestone street that stretched out of sight.

"Whoa…"

Sure, Cohen had imagined walking down this street when he read the books or watched the movies in his past life, but stepping into Diagon Alley for real still made him gasp in awe.

The morning sunlight glinted off every reflective surface—cauldrons, gilded shop signs, lenses, metal instruments. The air buzzed with chatter, shopkeepers' calls, and wizards' laughter. It felt like the whole world was packed into this one street.

Crowds bustled back and forth or lingered, and the street was filled with the cloying scent of souls. Cohen unwrapped a toffee and popped it in his mouth to stop himself from taking a slurp when he passed a few young witches and wizards.

Led by Edward, Cohen passed by Prince's Potions, the Flying Broomstick Shop, and Eeylops Owl Emporium—

"Want an owl?" Edward paused deliberately in front of the owl shop.

"Is it a fairy or something?" Cohen asked, unsure about keeping a pet. "I mean, can it eat without pooping? Or maybe not eat or poop at all—"

"What are you even thinking…?" Edward was baffled by Cohen's wild tangents. "Of course it eats and poops—but you don't need to make owl-keeping sound so complicated."

"Hogwarts has an owlery. You just need to swing by every now and then with some treats to bond with it."

"It's up to you what kind of pet you want. If you'd rather have a kitten, puppy, or salamander, we can check out the Magical Menagerie next door," Edward added quickly, sensing Cohen wasn't too keen on an owl.

"With an owl, you guys won't have to run to the post office to send me letters… I'll go with the owl. Compared to other animals, it seems easier to take care of."

Cohen thought it over, considering his lack of pet-raising experience. An owl seemed like the safest bet at Hogwarts—after all, they had an owlery, not a kitten shed or a puppy kennel.

Speaking of which, animal souls were pretty useless to Cohen. He could suck them, sure, but they were tasteless, like chewing wax.

Once, he'd tried sipping the soul of a little gray mouse that wandered into his bedroom, but he gave up after a tiny taste—it was like drinking plain water and did nothing for his soul integrity.

Owls were probably the same. No use as soul supplements.

"Let's get your wand first, then we'll come back here to pick one you like," Edward said, ruffling Cohen's hair. "If you see anything you want on the street, just say so. Your mom left us a shopping budget of seventy-seven Galleons plus a sack of Sickles—"

"Maybe I'll grab a few extra books. You can never go wrong with more knowledge," Cohen mused, figuring he could compare the readily available magic books in the shops with what he could get from the Kindness Shop. That might save him some Kindness Value—after all, the shop had rare magical creatures and tools beyond just books.

Ollivanders, the wand shop, looked like a tiny, rundown storefront from the outside. But once Cohen stepped in, the narrow, deep interior completely shattered that "small shop" impression.

Thousands of boxes were stacked up to the ceiling along the walls. The long room, paired with a stillness where even breathing echoed in the aisles, felt like stepping into some strict library.

"It's bigger on the inside…" Cohen raised an eyebrow.

It reminded him of a certain blue phone booth.

"*The Application of the Extension Charm in Architecture*—a great specialized book," a soft voice said. "A kid who likes to study. That one might suit you."

An old man slid down from the ceiling on a movable ladder. Only then did Cohen notice the ceiling was packed with wand boxes too—even forming an archway of them.

"Good morning," Ollivander said. His pale eyes stood in stark contrast to Cohen's dark ones.

"Good morning, Mr. Ollivander," Edward greeted politely. "This is my son, Cohen. Cohen Norton."

"Edward! It's been—what, thirty years? Alder wood, unicorn hair, thirteen and a half inches, reasonably flexible. You're still using it, I assume?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Edward said, showing off his wand to prove he'd been taking good care of it—though Cohen caught him sneakily casting a silent cleaning charm behind his back.

"Hm…" Ollivander clearly saw through Edward's trick but didn't call him out. Instead, he turned to Cohen. "Alright, young Mr. Norton, let's see… Which arm do you use for a wand?"

"Right."

Cohen caught a sweet scent in the air—souls—but it wasn't coming solely from Ollivander.

The smell grew stronger. A ton of souls were closing in on Cohen's location.

He figured it out in a flash.

The wands. The wands were sizing up the wizard who'd walked in—some kind of tradition, probably. But Cohen didn't seem like a good target.

*Holy crap, wands have souls?* 

Cohen swallowed hard, like someone had shoved a delicious cake right under his nose…

But doing anything would definitely freak the wands out—he could feel their souls pulling back the moment they got close to him.

*I haven't even done anything bad yet.jpg* 

Besides, the wands were overreacting. Cohen noticed they didn't have "soul strength" labels, and even though they smelled good, he didn't think he could eat them right now.

After expertly explaining wand composition and the axiom that "the wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander started weaving through the shelves, pulling down long boxes.

"Let's try this one first, young Mr. Norton."

Ollivander picked a box and was about to open it.

"Beech wood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, very flexible—"

**Crackle!!**

Before the wand could even be taken out, it let out a series of pops and a blinding red flash, then snapped the box shut on its own.

"I didn't do anything," Cohen said quickly, raising his hands as Ollivander and Edward stared at him oddly.

"Strange… strange…" Ollivander muttered. "Not this one. Maybe this?"

The next victim was a seven-inch maple and phoenix feather wand.

**Rip!**

This one reacted even more dramatically. The instant the box opened, it shot out like an arrow, tearing through the paper seal and zooming toward the back of the shop.

It ended up lodged in the far wall.

"No, not that one either…"

Cohen started to suspect Ollivander didn't actually have a reliable way of matching wands to wizards. Maybe every young witch or wizard—like Harry or himself—had to try nearly every wand in the shop before finding the right one.

Time dragged on, and Cohen and Edward were practically dozing off in the shop.

Sure, Mr. Ollivander just had to run around swapping wands, but Cohen and Edward had more to think about: when to grab lunch, when Cohen would pick his owl, when Edward could make it to the Hellfire Club's D&D session…

Finally—

"Phew…"

Ollivander opened the last wand box, and when it didn't let out an unearthly shriek or bolt away, he let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Elder wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches—let me catch my breath—an odd combination…"

Cohen stood up curiously to peek at this wand that didn't seem scared of him.

Odd… because elder wood, tied to death, was paired with unicorn hair, a symbol of kindness and purity?

Wait a sec—*Is there something wrong with letting a Dementor use a unicorn hair wand?!*

(End of Chapter)