Naturally, Harry's request to Professor McGonagall about going to Hogsmeade was a no-go; Professor McGonagall turned him down.
Now, Harry had to go with Plan B.
He got the Marauder's Map from the Weasley twins as their method for sneaking into Hogsmeade. Cohen admitted that this magical artifact was indeed powerful, but useless to him.
That's because it couldn't mark Voldemort in his ghostly state, nor could it mark those Silver Key members who weren't even at Hogwarts and whose names he didn't even know.
The weekend arrived quickly. They walked out of the school gates one by one under Filch's watchful eye, lining up to head to Hogsmeade village, which was very close to the school.
As they passed the Dementors guarding outside, the Dementors were all scrambling to squeeze towards Cohen – Professor Flitwick, who was leading the way, had to conjure his Patronus just to keep the Dementors away from the students.
[Chill out, be quiet, act like I'm a mole planted in the wizarding community.]
Cohen soothed the Dementors, who were being kept at a distance by the light emanating from the Patronus.
[Not kidnapped, not kidnapped, not kidnapped, got it?]
They clearly still couldn't understand the meaning of "mole," but after Cohen walked safely for a while, they didn't chase after him too far.
"That was terrifying..." Ron said to Cohen, still shaken. "They looked like they were going to pounce and kill us. Dumbledore's wrong; they can tell the difference between truth and lies. I felt like they'd kill anyone they touched—"
"Dementors don't kill people," Hermione, who hadn't spoken until now, couldn't help but correct him. "They only suck away people's happiness and soul—"
"Alright, alright, we get it, Miss Know-It-All," Ron said impatiently.
"Hmph," Hermione huffed, stomping to the front of the line and no longer talking to them.
"You know that's gonna make it harder for us to copy your homework later," Cohen felt it necessary to remind him.
"I can still finish my homework without her!" Ron said angrily, clearly not realizing the seriousness of the problem.
Cohen shook his head with extreme distrust.
After a bit of a trek, they finally arrived in Hogsmeade.
Now that the Dementors weren't hovering overhead, the students all breathed a sigh of relief.
"Meet back here at five o'clock this afternoon. Everyone, please stay within the village limits! If you encounter any danger, come find me immediately – I'll be at the Three Broomsticks the whole time," Professor Flitwick reminded the students loudly. "If it's an emergency, you can also send up sparks into any part of the sky you can see..."
The rest of his words were drowned out as the students began to chatter excitedly and scatter into the village's various interesting shops and attractions. Professor Flitwick shook his head and, with small, quick steps, headed towards the Three Broomsticks. Having a few drinks was always the best way to relax, and he could also catch up with some old friends.
Hermione went to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop by herself. Ron scoffed at this and dragged Cohen along to Zonko's Joke Shop.
"Norton?" As they passed a small two-story building, an elderly voice came from above them. "Is that Cohen Norton?"
Cohen and Ron both looked up. A somewhat familiar old man with a white beard was leaning out of a second-story window, smiling at them with only one hand visible.
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"Professor Kettleburn?" Cohen remembered.
"Who?" Ron asked, confused.
"The previous Care of Magical Creatures professor," Cohen whispered to Ron. "I went to see him before when I accidentally got rid of the Earl's feathers."
"Care to come in for a bit?" Kettleburn kindly waved at Cohen. "Don't worry, not in my capacity as a professor – I've retired!"
"You go ahead and look around; I'll go see what's up," Cohen wasn't sure what Kettleburn wanted, so he told Ron to go wander around first. What would a retired professor want with him?
"The door's unlocked, but watch out for Booboo," Kettleburn said. "I have a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Say its name a couple of times, and it won't bite you."
This Booboo was indeed ferocious – it was much larger than an average hound, and Cohen noticed it still had its tail. This indicated that Kettleburn hadn't gotten a permit at all, because Blast-Ended Skrewt owners were legally obligated to have their Skrewts' peculiar tails painlessly removed when they reached six to eight weeks old.
Cohen wasn't exactly in a position to criticize this, as none of the various dangerous creatures he kept had permits either.
The only one with a permit was actually himself, because Rose and Edward had gotten Cohen a passport for traveling abroad (the UK doesn't have national ID cards), although he had never traveled through Muggle channels...
After Cohen called out "Booboo" twice, the loyal Blast-Ended Skrewt let Cohen in, with a mix of fear and trust.
Kettleburn kept more than just Blast-Ended Skrewts as magical creatures. Cohen saw a room filled with a large number of tropical plants, and a pair of wary eyes were hidden among the leaves. It had faintly visible gray fur and small, raccoon-like paws.
It was probably some kind of tropical marmoset.
Many other rooms were closed, and Cohen felt that some other animals were also kept inside. This house was also much larger than it appeared from the outside.
Arriving on the second floor, the layout was much simpler: bedroom, kitchen, bathroom. However, Kettleburn didn't seem to mind that the bathroom and kitchen were together.
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"Ha, I recognized you right away – Hagrid said you were also very fond of magical creatures..." Kettleburn said cheerfully. He only had one arm and half a leg; the rest of his limbs had been replaced with wood. "Funny, I used to think you were a little rascal who liked to bully pets, especially that day you came with that bald owl..."
"Ah, these are prosthetics Dumbledore gave me to help me get around," Kettleburn noticed Cohen's gaze lingering on the artificial limbs. "It's a bit of a pity, though; I have to replace them every so often. Wood isn't the best material..."
"Is there something you wanted to see me about?" Cohen felt that Professor Kettleburn, after retirement, had become a bit too chatty. Did people become very fond of talking when they got old? Martha was , and so was Kettleburn.
"Oh, that... I wanted to ask you for a favor," Kettleburn said somewhat awkwardly. "Booboo has been running outside a lot lately. It never used to do this, and I guess it's been cooped up in the house with me for too long and needs to be taken for a walk."
Just walking a Blast-Ended Skrewt?
"That's it?" Cohen was a bit skeptical. The neighborhood was full of neighbors; anyone could be asked to walk a dog.
"Booboo is quite fierce towards other people. My neighbors are probably already being pretty good by not reporting me—" Kettleburn said. "Booboo is already nine weeks old, but I don't want to remove its tail, even though it's against the law..."
"I originally wanted to ask a student I knew from before, but you were one of the first to pass by my place – and Hagrid also mentioned you to me. Thinking about it, I might not feel entirely comfortable letting other students walk Booboo," Professor Kettleburn continued. "Do me a favor, and I'll give you some Honeydukes sweets."
The candy was secondary.
A dog that had suddenly started acting strangely...
"Is Booboo a boy or a girl?" Cohen asked suddenly.
"Hmm?" Kettleburn looked at Cohen warily. "A girl. Why?"
"I think I know why," Cohen clicked his tongue.