It seems Quirrell's hands are finally going to get cold!
Cohen was quite satisfied with this arrangement—he had almost finished playing his Dungeons & Dragons sandbox and desperately needed a new form of entertainment.
Cohen returned to the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night, but at a time when all the students should be in bed, there were three figures plotting something.
"Who!"
Harry looked warily at the hole behind the picture frame, and Cohen crawled out, which relieved Harry.
"Are you plotting a rebellion?" Cohen played the victim, "Why aren't you sleeping in the middle of the night..."
"Cohen, I heard something today!" Harry quickly pulled Cohen into the group, "At Quirrell's office door! I heard Quirrell compromise!"
"Quirock's office?"
Cohen felt it was unusual that Harry could hear the commotion so easily—because Cohen had reminded Quirrell to be careful about keeping things secret.
"Yes!" Harry tried hard to lower his voice, but it was no use—his voice was still loud. "I heard Quirrell say 'okay…okay…', Snape must have already threatened to ask how to break Quirrell's spell!"
"But what about Hagrid? Remember Harry? Hagrid's three-headed dog, Snape couldn't get past him." Hermione reminded him relatively soberly; Harry always got carried away at times like this.
"Hagrid…" Harry's face turned deathly pale instantly.
"What's wrong, Harry? You look a little off…" Ron asked worriedly.
"Hagrid might have already told anyone." Cohen knew why Harry looked like that.
He had to lure Harry and the others to the fourth-floor corridor because of Dumbledore's magic: "Only those who desire the Philosopher's Stone but do not use it can obtain it from the mirror."
And Cohen and Quirrell clearly did not meet this criterion.
The mirror couldn't read Cohen's mind directly, and Cohen did indeed have designs on the Philosopher's Stone.
"What?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison.
"You think so too, Korn?"
Harry's heart pounded when he heard Korn's guess matched his own.
"That day, Hagrid was buying butterbeer for Korn's unicorn when he ran into a hooded man who'd lost a dragon egg in a game of cards… Hagrid's greatest desire was a dragon—and a stranger in a tavern just happened to have a dragon egg in his pocket? How many people walk around with dragon eggs all day? That's illegal! Don't you think Hagrid is incredibly lucky?"
Harry blurted out, his breathing becoming heavy.
"And one more thing," Korn added fuel to the fire, "Snape is a Death Eater—I heard it from Quirrell."
"What!" Ron's eyes widened.
"What's a Death Eater?" Harry didn't know.
"Voldemort's former follower," Cohen said, intending to escalate the situation. "If Snape gets his hands on the Philosopher's Stone—maybe he can resurrect Voldemort."
"Then how could Dumbledore let him teach at the school!" Harry felt his eardrums pounding. "He's Voldemort's man!"
"Could we not say that name…" Ron shuddered; the name was practically the kind of ghost from bedtime horror stories for wizarding children.
"I shouldn't have sent Ari to Hagrid…" Cohen said, feigning annoyance.
"It's not your fault, Cohen. None of us knew that." Harry completely ignored the possibility that Cohen might be involved, reassuring him with complete trust. "As long as we can stop—"
"Hagrid might not have told anyone either." Hermione tried to calm Harry down. "Harry, don't be so hasty. We can ask Hagrid tomorrow—I feel like you're about to run out of the castle right now."
"And Dumbledore is there." Ron was also afraid that Harry might impulsively break school rules and run out of the castle in the middle of the night. "As long as Dumbledore is there, the Philosopher's Stone is definitely safe."
—Hermione and Ron successfully persuaded Harry temporarily by citing the fact that Gryffindor was losing points—after all, at the moment, Dumbledore was the biggest guarantee for the Philosopher's Stone.
Cohen could hear Harry tossing and turning in the next bed, unable to sleep. He was truly a savior, so responsible.
This made Cohen, one of the culprits in the next bed, feel a little embarrassed.
This reminded Cohen of a joke he had heard in his past life.
During class, the teacher asked the children what they wanted to be when they grew up. One child said he wanted to be a policeman. The teacher then said, "You'd better watch out for your deskmate. He said he wants to rob a bank when he grows up."
Dead memories suddenly began to attack him.
Harry's insomnia had nothing to do with Cohen. Even with the noise from the next bed, Cohen could still have a good night's sleep.
The next morning, Cohen and Ron were shaken awake by Harry, who had dark circles under his eyes.
"Quick, let's go find Hagrid!" Harry urged.
If boys weren't prohibited from entering the girls' dormitory, Harry would almost have barged into Hermione's room and dragged her out of bed.
"You'd be a hooligan then, Harry," Cohen warned. "#The Savior Did This to a Female Classmate#, the Daily Prophet will put you on the front page."
But the whole day was destined to be full of bad news—for Harry.
Hagrid had let slip about the three-headed Fluffy, the three-headed dog that only needed some music to fall into a deep sleep.
"I knew it…" Harry left a bewildered Hagrid behind and, pulling Cohen and Ron along, returned to the castle.
They ran into Hermione at breakfast.
"What happened to you…" Hermione, seeing the mud on their clothes, instantly knew where they'd been that morning. "Did Hagrid say something?"
"Hagrid let it slip," Harry whispered to Hermione. "We have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore about this…"
But worse news arrived.
They hadn't seen Dumbledore at the teachers' table all morning.
And Harry was certain Snape was giving them a suspicious look.
"We have to go to the Headmaster's office—maybe Dumbledore's busy?" Hermione said cautiously.
Once they confirmed the conditions for stealing the Philosopher's Stone were met, Harry would definitely go to the fourth-floor corridor.
This meant they would be expelled if discovered—and she, Ron, and Cohen certainly wouldn't let Harry risk it all alone.
"But where's Dumbledore's office?" Ron asked blankly.
"I know," Cohen answered. "It's on the eighth floor—not far from the Gryffindor Tower. The entrance is hidden, and there's a gargoyle that requires a password."
So many months have passed; the password for the Headmaster's office shouldn't be the cockroach pile anymore.
"But the password I used when I went in before should have been changed," Cohen added as a precaution.
And indeed it was.
After Cohen led them to the Headmaster's office door, the statue wouldn't let them pass.
"Cockroach pile? Lemon Sherbet? Honey Toffee?"
Cohen tried many things, but the statue wouldn't budge.
"It must have changed after all these months," Hermione frowned. "But—"
"What are you doing here?"
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall's voice came from behind them.
She pursed her lips, looking at the four students with a rather serious expression.
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quickly, "It's about the Philosopher's Stone…"
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(End of Chapter)