.
Revealing that he wasn't human—especially to his adoptive father—was a mistake he would never make. His parents hadn't shown even the slightest suspicion toward him so far, and Cohen intended to keep it that way.
After all, how rare was it for a protagonist to still have living parents? Adoptive parents counted too.
Edward, with his enthusiastic and somewhat chaotic explanations, had managed to give Cohen a basic understanding of the magical world. Along with that came a particularly stern warning from Dumbledore: never reveal their identity as wizards in front of Harry Potter.
"For so many years, you never showed any signs of magic," Edward sighed, his tone carrying both relief and regret. "Your mother and I thought you were just a Muggle—a normal child. I didn't even dare use my wand at home. I was afraid that if you saw magic, you would…"
"So that's why you've always relied on Mom's salary to support the family?" Cohen asked innocently.
Edward froze.
He had been preparing himself to answer questions about magic, hoping to rebuild his image as a capable and impressive father. Instead, he was blindsided by this completely unrelated question.
"Well… you see, the magical world has strict regulations," Edward stammered. "It's not appropriate to use magic in front of Muggles—especially if they might see it. But… wait, aren't you curious about magic at all? I could show you something—conjure flowers, maybe? Or make fruit dance?"
Without waiting for an answer, Edward pulled out his wand.
In an instant, the living room descended into chaos. Apples floated midair, pears tapped rhythmically across the table, and golden birds soared through the air, chirping melodiously. The precision of Edward's wand movements and his ability to cast silently indicated that he was far from an amateur wizard.
Cohen blinked.
Was the average wizard's soul strength really this low?
To Edward, Cohen's silence looked like awe.
"Well? Do you want to learn magic?" Edward asked, ruffling Cohen's hair in a fatherly gesture.
"We'll learn all of this at school anyway, right?" Cohen replied calmly. "I prefer reading. Maybe you could give me the textbooks instead. I'd like to study on my own."
Edward paused, then visibly relaxed.
Cohen's love for books wasn't new. If anything, wanting to understand magic through reading was a safe and sensible approach.
Practicing magic too early could be dangerous.
After all, most young wizards didn't react to magic with calm curiosity—they reacted the way children reacted to unexpected surprises at dinner.
"Oh, we do have textbooks," Edward said. "Your mother and I kept some of our old ones—"
Seeing Cohen's expression subtly shift into something resembling disappointment, Edward quickly corrected himself.
"Of course, we won't give you old books! We'll get you proper ones."
With the discussion over, Edward handed Cohen the Hogwarts letter.
"Keep this safe," he said. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to buy your wand and supplies. And tonight—why not invite some friends over for your birthday?"
He stood up, satisfied. "I'll prepare dinner and the cake."
Then, as if remembering something crucial, he added, "And don't mention magic to your friends. Especially Harry next door."
—
Good news: Cohen already knew Harry before his transmigration.
Bad news: Harry hadn't been allowed outside for over a month.
Standing in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, Cohen considered his options.
If he wanted to see the fragment of Voldemort's soul inside Harry, this might be his only chance in July.
Inviting Harry alone would be difficult. The Dursleys would likely refuse.
But if Dudley were included, things might be different.
Even as a Muggle family, the Dursleys were unpleasant neighbors. Petunia in particular had a habit of peeking over fences and spreading rumors—though Edward's oddly shaped, mouse-like hedges didn't help his case.
Cohen knocked on the door.
"Hello, Mr. Dursley. I'm Cohen from the Norton family."
He bowed politely as Vernon Dursley opened the door.
Dursley's face shifted through several shades—red, pale, then red again.
Clearly, the Dursleys had already labeled the Norton family as "abnormal."
Magic terrified them.
Still, Cohen's mother, Rose, held a powerful position as an editor. Dursley couldn't afford to offend the family outright.
"Hmph," Dursley grunted.
"I'm hosting a birthday party today," Cohen continued smoothly. "I'd like to invite a few friends from the neighborhood."
"Dudley can go," Dursley said quickly. "You'll both attend Smeltings, so it's good to build connections."
Then he frowned.
"Wait… you said 'a few friends'?"
"I believe there's also a boy named Harry here," Cohen said.
Dursley stiffened.
"There is no such child here!"
"I've seen him," Cohen replied evenly. "It wouldn't be… abuse, would it? My mother is very fond of children. If she heard about—"
"Fine!" Dursley snapped. "But don't say I didn't warn you. That boy is clumsy, troublesome, and dangerous!"
Turning, he shouted upstairs, "Harry! Get down here! You're going to a birthday party!"
Moments later, a thin boy with messy hair and oversized glasses stumbled out.
"Cohen?!" Harry exclaimed, his face lighting up.
Dursley scowled.
"You go first," he ordered. "Dudley will come later. And don't cause trouble."
"I won't," Harry said quietly.
Once outside, he added to Cohen, "I promise."
But Cohen wasn't listening.
Instead, his attention was fixed on what he saw:
[Soul Strength: 7 (Sacrificial Protection)]
[Soul Strength: 40]
Two distinct readings.
The weaker one was Harry's own soul, protected by Lily's ancient magic.
The stronger one…
Voldemort's fragment.
Forty points.
A formidable target.
Even if Cohen couldn't absorb it immediately, the fragment radiated a rich, intoxicating aura—like an irresistible delicacy.
"C-Cohen… why are you looking at me like that?" Harry asked nervously, taking a step back.
"Brother, you smell so good—" Cohen blurted, then immediately corrected himself. "I mean, I was just thinking about dinner."
He forced himself to regain control.
Forty points.
That meant at least twenty-nine more fragments from the Sin Shop—twenty-nine thousand sin points.
Equivalent to stealing candy from twenty-nine thousand children.
A long road ahead.
"Thank you for inviting me," Harry said later, sitting at Cohen's table and devouring apple pie with surprising speed. "I've been stuck inside for a month."
"Thank my dad," Cohen replied casually. "If my birthday were later, you might still be locked up."
Harry's expression dimmed.
After the holidays, their paths would diverge.
Cohen would attend Smeltings with Dudley.
Harry would go to Stonewall High.
They might not see each other often again.
"Cheer up," Cohen said, waving dismissively. "It's not like this is goodbye forever. Just don't eat too much—you'll ruin your appetite for dinner."
Harry nodded, though his mood remained subdued.
Cohen, meanwhile, was already thinking ahead.
Hogwarts.
Horcruxes.
And the long, dangerous path to eliminating Voldemort before his resurrection.
If everything went according to plan…
There would be no fourth-year disaster.
And no Dark Lord rising again.