Edward felt like the world had turned upside down.
The dragon acting like a dog was one thing—chalk it up to how it was raised—but this weird black unicorn being a total lush?
Wait, no, that wasn't the point. The real question was: how the heck was Cohen getting mixed up with stuff at school?
"What *exactly* have you been doing at school?!"
"Eating, sleeping, going to class, exploring the castle, raising little critters—pretty normal stuff," Cohen said, listing off his first-year life:
"If you go to Hogwarts and don't do these things, it's like becoming Minister of Magic and not abusing your power over your subordinates. It shows a lack of ambition and vision. You'd miss out on the perks of pragmatism, stuck seeing only the lazy comfort of rotting in the common room. That kind of person's stuck at a low level forever, doomed to a relatively failed life…"
"Stop roasting me," Edward muttered, feeling more and more like Cohen was talking about *him*.
When Cohen suggested Edward move in to help look after Norbert and Allie, Edward shut it down faster than you could say "nope."
"If I don't sleep in the bedroom at night, Rose will only have one guess: I'm dead," Edward said warily.
"Good man. Mom really trusts you. I thought she'd have two guesses—dead, or off with another woman," Cohen teased with a grin.
"Same ending either way," Edward replied dryly.
Though Edward couldn't be Cohen's free labor, he still found ways to pitch in.
Like trading some unicorn hair Cohen provided for cash, then using that to buy a big flock of sheep and grass seed to raise in Cohen's suitcase as a long-term food supply for Norbert.
All perfectly timed during Rose's work hours. Sneaking around behind his wife's back gave Edward a thrill he hadn't felt since his youth.
"You guys are so freaking weird," Earl commented one July night, after Edward washed the sheep blood off his hands and slipped out of Cohen's room with all the stealth of a seasoned crook.
"Feels like your dad's getting off on some bizarre vibe."
"Easy to get," Cohen said rationally. "Imagine you're with some female owl at school, and she tells you no flirting with other owls. Then tonight, Hedwig shows up asking if you want to go for a fly. You'd say yes in a heartbeat—heck, you'd even wonder what'd happen if that school owl found out. That thrill of breaking the rules… tsk, tsk, tsk…"
"Edward's just found a way to feel that rush without dying or crossing any moral lines."
"Thrilling," Earl said, eyes lighting up—only to dim a second later. "But I haven't even hooked up with any school owls yet…"
"You might not be with one, but Hedwig is," Cohen said with a sly nudge. "Morals are for humans. You're an owl—owls don't need morals."
"Brilliant idea!" Earl chirped, perking up.
"Bring your eggs back home!" Cohen called warmly as Earl flew off.
Finally, he'd gotten rid of Earl—kept it from getting bored and stirring up trouble.
Ever since Earl saw how hooked Allie was on booze, it'd been itching to try alcohol itself. It even tried begging a sip whenever Edward had a drink in the evening, only to get shooed off with a firm "Birds can't drink."
July was torture for Harry next door. The Dursleys didn't know he couldn't use magic outside school, but all Harry could do was wave his wand to spook Dudley. It didn't improve how Vernon and Petunia treated him—they just avoided pushing him too far or badmouthing his parents in front of him.
Since Cohen was Harry's classmate, the Dursleys started keeping their distance from the Nortons too.
Rose worked as an editor at *The Times*, so Vernon didn't dare pull his usual nasty attitude with them. Instead, he played shrinking turtle, pretending the family didn't exist and banning Harry from any next-door visits.
For Cohen, though, July flew by in a busy blur. His suitcase now boasted a full-on pasture for sheep.
The grass he'd conjured with Transfiguration couldn't feed them, but with magic fertilizer, the real grass he'd planted grew like crazy—speeding up the sheep's breeding rate too.
It made Cohen wonder if there was something shady mixed into that fertilizer.
Not that it mattered—the sheep were for Norbert, and if they were pumped full of magic or dark tricks, well, a dragon's stomach could handle it.
Allie, on the other hand, was way easier to keep.
Cohen figured out she actually ate grass—butterbeer was just a snack for her.
"Then eat grass," Cohen decided. "Stick to your instincts."
[*Instincts, my ass! I want my butterbeer!*]
Sadly, the detox plan for Allie wasn't working. It didn't seem like a physical addiction—more a mental one.
Just as everything was settling into a sustainable groove, good news arrived.
On July 30th, Lucius sent the house-elf Dobby with a letter.
"S-Sir… your letter!"
The little elf, with its bat-like ears and grubby appearance, squeaked in a high-pitched voice. It flinched at the sight of Cohen, instinctively wanting to bolt—pretty standard for house-elves around him.
But delivering the letter was Lucius's order, and it had to obey.
After dropping the letter in Cohen's room, it scurried off in a panic, terrified he'd suck out its soul.
Lucius had coordinated with Cohen in the letter, giving him a heads-up about the "young wizard tour" at the end of the month. Draco would be going too. Lucius had bribed the right people, so there'd be two different Portkeys for the kids to choose from—just pick the same one as Draco.
The wording was careful. If Cohen preferred the actual tour, he could just ignore the letter.
He also tossed in another apology for Draco's past offenses and promised more compensation once Cohen reached Malfoy Manor.
"Talk about reading the room," Cohen said, clicking his tongue. "Who could outlast that family? They're pros at playing both sides."
"These hairless losers don't even have my backbone," Earl chimed in. "I'd never bow to your tyranny."
"Oh yeah? How's rekindling things with Hedwig going?" Cohen shot back.
Earl turned to stare at the moonlight, suddenly silent.