Hogwarts, i am Dementor

In the end, Cohen had no choice but to empty his backpack to let Earl squeeze inside, then deliver Earl to Professor Kettleburn—the Care of Magical Creatures teacher who adored little animals. Professor Kettleburn sternly reprimanded Cohen for carelessly casting spells on the owl.

"Which house are you from?"

Professor Kettleburn's white mutton chops quivered with annoyance, looking like a sieve. This eccentric old professor, usually kind to students, now wore an extremely serious expression.

"I'm from Slytherin…"

Cohen answered without a hint of embarrassment—after all, he wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures this term, and he wasn't even wearing his school uniform today.

"Slytherin loses ten points! You naughty child, if I catch you doing this again…"

[Sin Value +10]

House point battles between the houses were often this simple, straightforward, and effective.

Professor Kettleburn cradled the bald Earl with pity, placing him into a soft, fluffy nest. Earl, meanwhile, sneaked a fierce glare at Cohen.

After rummaging through his potion chest, the professor finally pulled out a grimy bottle and dripped a single drop onto Earl's head.

With just that drop, Earl's feathers began sprouting wildly. In a matter of seconds, Earl was back to his glossy,毛乎乎 (fuzzy) self.

Cohen lost track of how many promises he had to make to Professor Kettleburn before being released from the office. By the time he hurriedly returned to the Room of Requirement to grab his textbooks and then rushed to the History of Magic classroom, Professor Binns had already begun droning on in his monotonous voice, lulling the young witches and wizards to sleep.

Cohen hunched over and tiptoed along the side of the classroom to the back row, where Harry and Ron were napping—proof that slackers always got along famously.

Hermione was different. Even though Professor Binns' lectures sounded like a vacuum cleaner whining, she sat in the front row, listening intently.

Cohen didn't have time to mess around (meaning listening to History of Magic). To him, the subject was utterly useless—he didn't see how knowing the dates of goblin rebellions or the reasons behind the failure of the Werewolf Code of Conduct would help his future in any way.

So, Cohen spent the entire class studying *The Power of Sorrow*, a book he'd borrowed from the library. Many of its theories were quite intriguing.

The book argued that a wizard's emotions were the most crucial source of magic. The stronger the emotion, the wilder and more powerful the resulting spell. Conversely, the fewer emotions a wizard had, the calmer and weaker their magic became.

Desire was an emotion. Hatred was an emotion. Anger was an emotion. Fear was an emotion…

And so was "love."

[Even the coldest wizard becomes a conductor fully immersed in their orchestra when casting a spell.]

But there was one exception: the prisoners of Azkaban.

Their emotions were devoured by Dementors, leaving only despair. As a result, most prisoners struggled to cast even the simplest "Alohomora" spell. Even after returning to the normal world, it took time for them to regain their former strength—and some suffered permanent brain damage. In fact, such "accidents" weren't uncommon.

"No way, that's crazy!"

Cohen hadn't realized he was this impressive. Come to think of it, he hadn't yet tried feeding on someone else's emotions. With a soul—a massive, delicious delicacy—right in front of him, it was hard to notice the smaller morsels a person might offer.

It was like forcing someone to lick the frosting off a Christmas pudding without letting them take a single bite of the pudding itself…

Feeling a surge of excitement, Cohen sneaked a glance at the two "good brothers" sleeping beside him.

Trying a little taste of their emotions shouldn't be a big deal, right? Harry had been nibbled on by Dementors plenty of times in his third year and turned out fine…

After careful observation, Cohen noticed faint, fluid-like, mystical substances swirling around their souls—visible "emotions." And he could extract these "emotion" substances at will, without even using his mouth.

The farther the distance, the weaker the extraction, but his range was almost as large as the entire History of Magic classroom.

Cohen didn't immediately target every student in the room—that felt like the kind of thing that would summon Dumbledore charging in with his phoenix Patronus to blast Cohen across the room and bombard him with spells meant for dark creatures.

He'd choose between Harry and Ron—but Ron's emotions were clearly more intense right now. He was probably having a good dream.

"…"

Cohen sucked in a tiny wisp of Ron's emotion—maybe "happiness+" or something. Whatever it was, it left Cohen feeling pretty cheerful.

A shiver ran through Cohen's body, a tingling sensation spreading all over—

Ron, on the other hand, twitched slightly, his sleeping expression shifting as if he'd slipped into a nightmare.

Heh, this emotion stuff… it's pretty potent.

No wonder other Dementors ate emotions first and souls second—such refined artistry from the older generation.

"…"

Cohen couldn't resist and drew another wisp of emotion. Ron was dreaming anyway, with emotions pouring out of him nonstop.

Ron trembled even more violently.

"…"

Sorry, Ron, couldn't help it—slurped another bite.jpg

[Sin Value +30]

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!"

Ron jolted awake from his nightmare, then quickly clamped his hands over his mouth as the entire class turned to stare in confusion.

"Mr. Fabbel, is something wrong?"

Professor Binns floated up from the podium, peering at the source of the scream. But with his less-than-stellar memory, he didn't even get Ron's name right.

"N-No, nothing, Professor…"

Ron, ears burning red, tried to sink under the desk.

The sudden burst of energy in the classroom lasted only a few seconds before Professor Binns resumed his dry lecturing.

"Ron? What's wrong?" Harry asked curiously, noticing Ron hugging himself as if he were freezing.

Then Harry looked past Ron and spotted Cohen, who was pretending nothing had happened.

"Cohen? When did you get here? We almost thought you skipped class—"

"No way I'd skip in the first week. I just accidentally plucked all of Earl's feathers…" Cohen explained with a slight embellishment before joining Harry in "concernedly" checking on Ron.

"It was awful…" Ron felt like he was still trapped in that nightmare. "I was dreaming I became Gryffindor's prefect and made it onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team…"

"And then?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Isn't that good news?"

"I don't know what happened, but the dream suddenly got weird—like all the happiness just vanished. The prefect badge turned into a spiky spider, and even the broom under me became a twitching spider leg…" Ron said, still shaken. "And…"

"It feels like I'm still stuck in that dream—"

Ron shivered from the cold.

[Ding! Special Ability Unlocked: Emotion Drain (1/10)]

Good brother, your sacrifice was worth it.

Cohen joined Harry in patting Ron's back consolingly. It wasn't the time to laugh, but he couldn't quite control the corners of his mouth.

Guess he'd reward Ron with a new set of wizard chess for Christmas as compensation.

(End of Chapter)