"So what exactly did you do back then?"
Cohen asked, "Why keep dodging the question like that? What's the big deal—even if you killed a few people, it's not like I haven't done the same…"
"But—" Herbert couldn't bring himself to meet Cohen's eyes.
"Friendly reminder," Cohen cut in, "I don't hate many people. Just psychos who kill for fun, idiots who try to take me out, and—top of the list—riddle-spinners who drag out the truth forever."
Herbert wrestled with himself internally. Cohen didn't get why he was so hung up on spilling the beans. The facts were already laid out: Herbert's son, "Cohen Bock," was fully revived. Heck, back in the lab, "Cohen" had even spared Herbert alone.
Sure, the experiment was messed up, but it worked, didn't it? And Cohen's actions and words made it clear his moral compass was pretty loose. So what if Herbert had done some shady stuff to pull it off?
What kind of thing would make Herbert clam up—and look like the truth was tearing him apart?
Suddenly, Cohen flashed back to their first meeting on Christmas, and the very first question Herbert had asked him.
*"Did they treat you well?"*
At the time, Cohen figured it was just a father's concern for a long-lost son. But now? Maybe it was something else. Something like… jealousy? The kind Edward and Rose could have with Cohen—something Herbert couldn't?
Even back then, Cohen had sensed Herbert was scared of something.
He hadn't called it out at the time, assuming Herbert was just clinging to the idea that part of the current Cohen still held his son's soul. That's why he'd been so good to him, right?
But now it hit him—Herbert might've known all along that his son was long gone. Maybe he just couldn't face it, living off a lie he'd told himself to keep going.
"You knew 'Cohen Bock' was already dead, didn't you? Body and soul," Cohen said. "So what did you do back then? How'd you know for sure his soul was gone?"
Herbert couldn't hold it together anymore. He broke down, sobbing, covering his eyes as he hunched over on the bed, crying like a kid.
"I… I'm sorry… I couldn't… save him… I—Rose—and…"
"Rose?" Cohen frowned. "What's she got to do with this?"
Why'd his adoptive mom suddenly come up? Hadn't she cut ties with the Bock family ages ago when she married Edward? There was no reason for Herbert to still be connected to her…
"Hold on—" Cohen caught a blind spot. Herbert had said Rose was his favorite sister, meaning they were close.
If they were so tight… why, in all the years Herbert was locked up, had Rose never brought Cohen to see him? Just left Herbert, "Cohen's real dad," to rot alone?
And Edward and Rose had never even mentioned Herbert to Cohen. They knew about the experiment—yet Cohen didn't peg them as the possessive types who'd keep their adopted son from meeting his birth father.
A married couple with no kids of their own after ten years, lovingly raising a dangerous half-Dementor, and Edward's soul strength being downright pitiful…
It clicked for Cohen in an instant.
Rose and Edward didn't adopt him because he was Rose's nephew or because they were overflowing with parental love…
"Rose and Edward… they had a kid…"
Herbert mustered every ounce of strength he had left. After spilling the truth, he looked at Cohen with red-rimmed eyes, like he was begging for forgiveness.
"What happened to that kid?" Cohen asked calmly.
Cohen aimed his wand at him. This time, he didn't care about Herbert's feelings—he dug in hard, yanking out the memories Herbert was trying to bury again.
Last time, he'd been too soft, only seeing what Herbert *wanted* him to see.
Rose and Edward did have a child—a kid Rose had also named "Cohen."
Back then, the experiment was spiraling into disaster. The homunculus's soul was fading fast. The curse meant to trap "Cohen Bock's" full soul had failed—it was fractured.
Cohen knew why. The little Dementor now tucked in his pocket had taken a chunk of "Cohen Bock's" soul.
The lab's nutjobs came up with a new plan—they needed a fresh soul to patch it up. The experiment couldn't fail, even if it meant stitching it together a million times.
So they turned to another soul that fit the bill.
"I tried to stop them…" Herbert's tears soaked into his beard. "I couldn't… save you—"
"That's not the point," Cohen said, frowning. "You're so stubborn, I half-thought you'd turned into a human trafficker or something."
"I could've stopped it… If I'd just had the guts to smash that half-finished jar, it'd all be over…" Herbert still couldn't forgive himself. "But I hesitated—one second, maybe two—I had my wand up—they caught me messing around—locked me up—I couldn't…"
Cohen tuned out Herbert's broken regrets and kept sifting through his memories.
The researchers stole Rose's kid, broke Herbert's legs, and threw him in a cell. He'd tried to wreck the experiment to save his sister's child, but they didn't kill him—Cohen figured it was because "a father's flesh, blood, and soul" could come in handy if the experiment went sideways.
The "Cohen" that came out alive with the new soul went on instinct, slaughtering every wizard and Muggle test subject in the manor—those half-dead guinea pigs once used to study Dementors and souls. He freed the creatures that felt familiar to him: Allie, some unnamed giant snake, another beast, and Herbert.
Herbert knew better than anyone—"Cohen" didn't spare him out of leftover memories or family ties. It was just the body's familiarity.
His son was gone. Body dead in 1980, soul gone by 1981.
What lived in that body then was Rose and Edward's son, "Cohen Norton"—or at least a tiny piece of him.
All "Cohen," yet not quite Cohen.
Like some twisted, magical joke courtesy of fate.
"This experiment wasn't all that different from the old 'homunculus in a bottle' stuff," Cohen said. "The real difference came from Rose and Edward."
"After you trashed the whole manor, Rose and Edward showed up…"
Herbert mumbled, his voice syncing with the scenes Cohen saw in his memories—like a movie with narration.
"You were a mess back then, like a stitched-up rag doll, soul bleeding out through the seams… I told them their kid had been taken by those researchers—but his soul was still alive… inside this new test subject…"
"They held you and cried—you were dying. I knew my Cohen was long gone from this world… but I still wanted to save you…"
Herbert's voice dropped low.
"How'd you save me?" Cohen asked, the memory streaming from the wand tip into his mind.
"A spell—a dark, soul-tearing spell—I wanted to stitch you back together…" Herbert stared blankly at Cohen, or maybe at the child he'd once had. "One mistake always leads to more… I ripped my own soul apart—tried to patch you up, but it wasn't enough—not nearly enough… you…"
"Too broken," Cohen said heavily. "You told Edward and Rose about that spell, didn't you?"
Herbert nodded, like it took everything he had left.
"I didn't tell Rose the whole truth—I felt I deserved this. If I hadn't handed over your body… if I hadn't helped them with the earlier experiments… if I'd just had the guts to act before they went after Rose's kid…"
It all made sense now.
Why there were so many soul shards scattered around the Bock Manor ruins, why Edward's soul strength was a measly ten, why Rose and Edward loved Cohen so fiercely, why they'd never brought him to see Herbert all these years…
A patched-up soul always falls apart eventually—like a shattered mirror that can't ever be perfectly pieced back together.
The soul Edward and Rose had fixed unraveled last year, leaving room for the current Cohen—this stowaway from another world—to take over.
A foreign soul might not be strong, but it's stable. That's what kept "Cohen" alive.
Nicolas Flamel got it wrong—"love" didn't make the homunculus live.
But he was also right—"love" kept it alive until eleven. Without it, "Cohen" wouldn't have lasted long enough for a traveler to step in.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in Cohen's head—his own voice, but words he'd never said.
*"I feel like I'm dying…"*
*"I know I'm an evil monster—"*
*"Fairy tales say evil monsters always die in the end… but I'm not scared…"*
*"Mom and Dad love me so much… I don't want them to see me die… If I could, I'd want another soul to take my place, to stay with them…"*