Professor McGonagall's book clattered to the floor, but she didn't pick it up.
"How did you know—"
Professor McGonagall looked at Harry with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion.
"Professor—I think Snape—someone tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone—this needs to be reported to Professor Dumbledore—" Harry didn't know how to make his description more believable.
But Professor McGonagall clearly wouldn't believe him.
"Professor Dumbledore is on his way to London. He received an urgent letter from the Ministry of Magic." Professor McGonagall's gaze lingered on Cohen for a moment.
Cohen knew this letter was a forgery by Quirrell, about his surveillance of him as the Dark Magic test subject.
"He'll be back tomorrow. I don't know how you found out about the Philosopher's Stone, but you can rest assured and prepare for your exams. No one can steal it. It's heavily guarded and foolproof."
Professor McGonagall picked up her book and left, but these words were of no use to Harry.
Nor to Cohen.
If the protective measures remained unchanged from the original story, those obstacles would be virtually useless to Cohen.
"Even Dumbledore is gone..." Harry, still extremely excited after a sleepless night, thought, "Looks like this is the only way, right?"
"You seem even more excited than Snape." Cohen was starting to wonder if it was him or Harry who was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
"I'm going to the fourth-floor corridor tonight and get my hands on the Stone before Snape," Harry declared firmly.
"You're insane!" Ron exclaimed.
"You'll be expelled!" Hermione cried. "You can't do this—"
"So what if I'm expelled!" Harry shouted, oblivious to the fact that they were in the corridor.
Luckily, the students were either in class, studying in the library or common room; no one would be around.
"Don't you understand? If Snape gets his hands on the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemort will rise from the dead! Haven't you heard what this place was like when he ruled? If he succeeds, this place will become a school dedicated to teaching dark magic!"
"Losing points or getting expelled doesn't matter anymore! If I can't stop him, we'll all have no future after he's resurrected!" Harry said angrily. "Then I'll just have to go back to the Dursleys! Wait for him to kill me—just like he killed my parents! I'm going to get through that trapdoor tonight, and nothing you can stop me."
Harry's words made Ron and Hermione give up trying to persuade him.
"I have the Invisibility Cloak, I can use it to get to the fourth-floor corridor tonight."
"You're not planning to go alone, are you?"
Ron made up his mind:
"I'll go with you."
"Me too." Hermione said without hesitation, "I can look for the spells in the books I've read, maybe they'll work."
"But you'll get expelled too…" Harry hadn't expected them to risk their lives with him, especially Hermione.
"Don't be silly, we're not going to let you go alone," Hermione said. "We're friends, remember?"
Cohen remained silent—he was supposed to go in with Quirrell that night.
Finally, night fell, and both sides began to move.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered in the common room.
"Where's Cohen?" Harry couldn't find Cohen anywhere.
"I think he didn't come back this afternoon—did he desert?" Ron asked.
"Probably not, he's braver than us." Hermione also found it strange.
There was something talking in the common room that might know where Cohen was.
"Why are you looking at me?" The Earl was secretly eating the Weasley brothers' midnight snack from the kitchen. "I didn't kidnap that kid."
"Captured?" Harry astutely grasped the key phrase in the Earl's words. "Cohen's been captured?"
"Captured by some professor," the Earl told the three, following Cohen's plan. "They said they'd get rid of him—I guess I'll soon be a stray owl—can I stay here with you? I can tell you jokes every day, you just need to pay me for food."
"Oh no, Cohen's definitely been captured by Snape!" Hermione exclaimed anxiously.
"What do we do? Should we go rescue him?" Ron asked frantically.
"Go rescue him—no…" Harry was also a little flustered, but then a thought suddenly struck him. "Wait, Snape will steal the Philosopher's Stone. He'll either have Cohen with him or lock him up…"
"If we go to him, we'll be playing right into Snape's hands!" Harry's eyes lit up. "This is Snape trying to stall us!"
"You're very clever," the Earl praised, somewhat nervously.
In fact, Cohen had indeed been taken by some professor.
But it wasn't Snape; he already had enough blame to bear, one more wouldn't make a difference.
At the entrance to the fourth-floor corridor, Cohen and Quirrell had already met.
"Playing music, huh?" Cohen expertly put on his gloves.
"Why are you wearing gloves?" Quirrell, carrying a magic harp, looked at Cohen with some confusion.
"Oh, sorry, it's a habit. We're not here to kill anyone," Cohen explained, realizing what was happening. "You know, I don't like having blood on my hands, and gloves can prevent leaving traces, like fingerprints."
"..."
Quirrell fell silent.
He was questioning whether he was qualified to be the Dark Lord's henchman.
He silently stepped forward and opened the door. The three-headed creature, hearing the noise, immediately sprang to its feet, ready to pounce—
but the next second, the harp began to play music under magic. The large dog seemed to have been put to sleep, immediately swaying and collapsing to the ground, its triple snoring mingling with the music.
"I feel it's not as good as my unicorn," Cohen commented.
Although Ari's heart might be tempted by butterbeer, at least she wouldn't fall asleep at the smell of alcohol.
The next trap was exactly as Cohen remembered.
After jumping down the trapdoor, there was a large, dark, devilish net. Quirrell and Cohen, of course, weren't trapped; they slipped out before it could tighten its grip.
The next challenge was Flitwick's "flying key." Quirrell chased the large key for a long time—Cohen, growing impatient, transformed into a Dementor and swiftly enveloped the conspicuously large, ancient key.
"You just—!"
Quirrell stared wide-eyed at Cohen, who had returned to normal, after getting off the broom.
"What was that—a Groundbat? Animagus? Or…"
Quirrell felt that Cohen's appearance just now resembled…
no, no one can become a Dementor, that's impossible. That creature, no, Dementors aren't even living beings; they're not even considered beings of the material realm (non-beings).
"Don't ask too many questions about things you don't understand. The person I'm working with is your boss, not you. Just know that we're on the same side."
Cohen's time on Quirrell's team was almost over, and he didn't plan to explain much more.
"Don't worry, I'm very loyal."
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(End of Chapter)