"Cohen?"
Dumbledore called softly.
Perhaps Cohen's soul also possessed the characteristics of a Dementor? He shouldn't be dead...
Dumbledore tried to see Cohen's magical energy surging in the surrounding air.
But there was nothing around, only the liquid curses within Cohen's body and the Philosopher's Stone in his palm, shining like the sun.
Cohen in his spirit form couldn't do anything.jpg
So Cohen could only watch.
Although Dumbledore's trembling expression made Cohen feel a little guilty, like making up a cruel joke about his own death to his elders,
Cohen temporarily suppressed his conscience for the sake of the Philosopher's Stone.
Half of the Philosopher's Stone had already melted into Cohen's palm. For Cohen, it was far more than just a matter of soul integrity; it might have other, expanding uses. Cohen had no reason to give it up.
Dumbledore pressed his wand against Cohen's chest, muttering incantations. Several different spells enveloped Cohen, but they were all useless.
The irreversible, terrible outcome made Dumbledore seem to age ten years in an instant.
A child had died here, and he hadn't intervened to stop the Killing Curse—because he presumptuously believed he knew everything about Cohen, assuming that Cohen, as a half-dementor, couldn't be killed.
He assumed that since he had seen hundreds of Killing Curses fail to work on Cohen, he would naturally assume that the curse would be useless against Cohen in his current state.
He could have stopped it—easily by simply changing the shape of a nearby pebble or giving Fawkes a nirvana…
Dumbledore felt he should apologize to Cohen, but he simply used magic to silently lift the two children from the ground.
An apology couldn't bring back a young life. If he could, Ariana would have returned long ago amidst countless days and nights of remorse.
Dumbledore knew this all too well.
With age comes a sense of déjà vu, and it always happens that fate throws a stone into a person's memory just when they're about to forget it, creating ripples.
He had even greater responsibilities to bear. How could he explain this to Cohen's parents—summer vacation was just two weeks away, and Edward and Rose were preparing to take Cohen on a trip—they were so excited to travel with their child when they received the news of his sudden death at school.
A little empathy was enough to understand the suffocating feeling that stemmed from "love."
Cohen kept a close eye on the progress of the Philosopher's Stone merging into his body, following Dumbledore closely to avoid getting lost when it was time to return.
Dumbledore led both Cohen and Harry to the school infirmary.
However, Cohen was placed in a private room—a corpse in a public room would frighten the other students.
Mrs. Pomfrey, the infirmary nurse, rushed out after hearing the commotion and found the Headmaster with two motionless students.
"Pomfrey, please look after Harry—he's exhausted, didn't sleep a wink last night, and went through a lot today..." Dumbledore instructed Mrs. Pomfrey.
"Albus."
Professor McGonagall hurried into the infirmary, still in her nightgown, followed by Ron and Hermione—because Cohen had absorbed the magical souls of the giant chess pieces, they hadn't played the game, and Ron hadn't "sacrificed" himself.
They had gone to find Professor McGonagall after Harry drank the potion that allowed him to pass through the black flames.
"How is Harry?"
Professor McGonagall's face was full of worry as she saw Harry being placed on a hospital bed by Dumbledore.
"Harry's just tired, nothing serious," Dumbledore said wearily. "Pomfrey will take care of him… Minerva, come with me, there's something important…"
Ron and Hermione rushed to Harry's bedside after the professors went into the depths of the infirmary.
"Just lack of rest—I'll take care of him, you two need to get some sleep!" Madam Pomfrey sternly urged Ron and Hermione. "It's past midnight! You're children too, you need plenty of sleep! If you don't want to end up in a hospital bed like him!"
She never asked students about the cause of their injuries, because it would frighten them into seeking medical help, causing some curable, serious magical ailments to become incurable.
Cohen's spirit glanced back as he followed Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Ron and Hermione certainly wouldn't be sleeping—tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.
Sure enough, the moment the two left, Cohen saw two spirits wearing invisibility cloaks return.
Cohen followed Dumbledore and McGonagall into the private room—his own body lay cold and lifeless on it, looking eerie from a spirit's perspective.
"Cohen, this is…"
Professor McGonagall initially couldn't understand why Dumbledore had placed him here, but when she saw Cohen's deathly pale face, her voice choked.
"Cohen is dead," Dumbledore said calmly to McGonagall. "He was forced by Quirrell to take the Philosopher's Stone from Harry, but he never really helped Quirrell—he refused to hand it over and was struck by Quirrell's Killing Curse."
Professor McGonagall gasped, covering her mouth
. "I could have saved him," Dumbledore said, her voice filled with regret. "So many times, so many opportunities."
"It's not your fault, Albus…"
Professor McGonagall dared not approach Cohen's body. She clutched her heart. She had always liked every student, even those who were mischievous.
Suddenly, she remembered what she had witnessed—Cohen shouldn't have been killed by the Killing Curse—
"Experience should not be an excuse for taking risks. We should all understand that,"
Dumbledore sighed.
"We have to write to Edward and Rose—I'll write them, it's all my fault…"
After Professor McGonagall left in sorrow, Dumbledore approached Cohen's body—
"Don't, I'm scared…" Cohen watched in horror as the centenarian approached his corpse.
But Dumbledore didn't do anything outrageous; he simply pried open Cohen's tightly clenched right hand.
The Philosopher's Stone shouldn't be left here; Voldemort might come back.
But when Dumbledore saw what was in Cohen's palm, he froze.
The crimson stone was almost completely embedded in Cohen's hand—as if it had melted into Cohen's blood.
Now, only a small corner of the Philosopher's Stone remained exposed, and it continued to burrow into Cohen's flesh at a visible pace.
A multitude of possibilities flashed through Dumbledore's mind.
Cohen was a creation of alchemy, and so was the Philosopher's Stone.
[As below as above, and above as below; thus fulfilling the miracle of the One.]
Read 15+ updated chapters ahead at p4treon..
[email protected]/Horizons685
(End of Chapter)