Cohen had a bad feeling—
The Burke family couldn't have been completely wiped out, could they?
The manor was gone, and the one Burke he'd finally tracked down was stuck here as a janitor for the Ministry of Magic…
"Cheer up, at least you're still free," the Earl said, trying to offer some comfort as it noticed Cohen lost in thought—though it wasn't exactly great at consoling people.
"Damn it, I was hoping to take them out and inherit the family fortune," Cohen grumbled. "They're definitely broke now—those banned creatures sell for a fortune. Even a Class B prohibited item goes for thousands of Galleons…"
The Earl fell silent for a moment before muttering, "I knew nothing good ever comes out of your mouth."
To keep dear Uncle Herbert from waking up and ruining his plans, Cohen cast a rope-transfiguration spell on the chair, binding the old criminal tightly in place.
"Done!" Cohen clapped his hands, admiring his handiwork—Herbert was trussed up like a dumpling, with only his nose left free to breathe.
That should keep him out of trouble. Cohen planned to release him before leaving; otherwise, if Herbert died, this hazardous area would be left unguarded. The Ministry would notice, and any investigation might expose Cohen.
As Cohen prepared to head out, he realized the Earl wasn't following. He turned back to the owl, still perched in the distance, and asked, "You're not coming with me?"
"Nope. I haven't even hit a home run with Hedwig yet—I'm not about to go looking for death," the Earl refused. "That ruin's full of lingering dark magic."
"Fine, stay here and keep an eye on this guy—here's your wand."
Cohen pulled the wand he'd bought for the Earl from his pocket.
He figured he should get the Earl something like a dimensional pouch—after all, an owl couldn't exactly hide a wand that long on its body. Maybe he could strap a small bag with an Extension Charm to its left leg, so the Earl could grab the wand from it with its right claw—if owl claws could even manage that.
Tossing the wand to the Earl, Cohen stepped out into the snow.
With a wave of his wand at the manor ruins' entrance, the surrounding snow and ice began to melt outward from Cohen, revealing the charred remnants and bare ground.
Since the main house had collapsed, Cohen had to rely on the remaining wall bases to figure out the room layouts.
Dark curses drifted through the air. Some dark magic, once cast, was nearly impossible to fully dispel.
But the typically aggressive residual spells showed no hostility toward Cohen. In fact, they started swirling around him cheerfully.
Cohen frowned at the black mist swirling around him, looking like some final boss special effect.
The mist felt oddly familiar… almost like—
Suddenly, a strand of black mist shot straight into Cohen's body.
Then another, and another.
One by one, the swirling dark curses rubbed themselves into him.
[**Soul Integrity: 22.1%**]
[**Soul Integrity: 22.2%**]
[**Soul Integrity: 22.3%**]
Watching his soul integrity skyrocket, Cohen lowered the wand he'd raised to stop the mist.
Were these his own soul fragments?!
Cohen felt a refreshing sensation, like waking up from a perfect nap—he'd never gained so much soul integrity in a single minute before.
When the last wisp of mist slipped into him, his soul integrity settled at 27%.
"All that for just five percent?!" Cohen stared in disappointment at the now-empty ruins. Every bit of dark mist had returned to him.
So, this tiny fraction of his soul fragments had cursed the entire manor into an uninhabitable wreck…
Turns out he was a walking dark magic curse factory.
The rest of his soul fragments must have scattered elsewhere—this was just a small portion left behind.
Still, even 5% was an unexpected bonus for Cohen.
The spiders in the Forbidden Forest weren't providing much value anymore. Once he'd hit 20% soul integrity, souls below 10 points became useless to him.
Even a prime adult eight-eyed giant spider offered little soul strength now—and they took months to grow from juveniles to adults. Too slow.
Cohen needed a higher-quality soul-farming method.
After absorbing the mist, Cohen refocused on the ruins themselves.
Everyone knows that when a protagonist explores a ruin, there's always a secret basement full of mysteries—and no one who checked the place before ever finds it, even if the entrance is painfully obvious.
Cohen located a pile of debris with the strongest magical traces. After clearing the rubble and dirt with a "Whirlwind Sweep," a cracked floor slab emerged.
He cast the revealing charm on the ground.
But instead of the expected hidden staircase, the cracks on the slab began to writhe like living things, eventually forming words:
[**Show Your Mercy**]
Did Hogwarts teach any spells called "mercy"?
Come on, was there a "Mercy Charm" in *Harry Potter*?
A jet of green light burst from Cohen's wand tip, shattering the slab to pieces the next second—using the Killing Curse as an explosive spell worked surprisingly well.
Cohen wasn't in the mood to play riddle games with a stone slab.
Show mercy? The Killing Curse *was* his mercy.
Good thing the slab didn't have a soul, or Cohen might've subjected it to a Dementor's Kiss—"more despairing than death."
With the slab destroyed, a staircase leading to a shadowy basement appeared before him.
Cohen lit his wand tip and descended.
Below was a dim corridor lined with closed doors, each marked with a slightly faded gold plaque bearing a number.
At the end stood a larger, more ornate double door—likely leading to the most important part of the manor.
Cohen doubted he'd been found here. If Dumbledore and the others had come, this wouldn't be—
[**Soul Strength: 67 (Weakened)**]
A system tag popped up for whatever was behind that door at the corridor's end. Cohen couldn't see its form.
What had survived down here for ten years without dying?
A dark magical creature?
A half-finished experiment?