"We'll talk later."

Cohen tucked the basket holding Mr. Frondo into his extended pouch – making a 'sleeping kitten' the centre of attention in the Great Hall would be a bit too noticeable.

"Count, wait for me in the Room of Requirement."

"What's wrong with Mr. Frondo? And did you just mention... Mr. Von Braun –" Seeing Cohen slide the basket under the table, Harry asked uneasily, "our substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts professor from second year?"

"I wrote him a letter, but he hasn't replied, so I sent the Count to check things out," Cohen said briefly. "It seems something happened over there – Frondo's accident happened when he went to find him too."

After quickly wolfing down his breakfast, Cohen hurried out of the Great Hall. Harry and the others didn't need to get involved with the Silver Key business – Harry only got away from dealing with Voldemort because of their 'special connection.' The Silver Key would be completely different for Harry.

"I took Frondo to Mr. Von Braun's place," the Count said uneasily in the Room of Requirement. "And then I sent Frondo in first to scout things out, because it was so quiet it felt like an ambush – by all accounts, he shouldn't have actually run into trouble... but I waited ages and he didn't come out, so I went in myself –"

"You know that was very dangerous, right?" Cohen looked at the Count. The Count was always badmouthing Frondo, wasn't he? Clearly, he had a sharp tongue but a soft heart after all...

"That's better than just waiting outside," the Count said. "It was unnaturally normal inside – no scratch marks, no signs of explosions, just like a regular house."

"An absentee's home being that normal is the biggest abnormality," Cohen said. "I remember Von Braun had a rather senile father –"

"Old man Von Braun is fine," the Count shook his head. "He doesn't live with Von Braun anymore, as if Von Braun knew this kind of danger might be coming. So what's the situation with Frondo now? Can you fix him?"

Frondo's current state looks like someone has pulled the cat's soul out and trapped it somewhere. Destroying a soul is easy, but trapping one isn't so simple – especially for wizards. Going to all that trouble to use such complex magic on a cat... Who would even want to go to that dangerous place to rescue a cat's soul?

"Maybe I shouldn't have taken Frondo there..." the Count said, losing his usual bluster for the first time.

"I thought you'd be celebrating Mr. Frondo's departure," Cohen narrowed his eyes.

"Because he's the friend I've had the longest!" the Count said angrily. "Everything I said before was just because he couldn't seem to die – damn it, I should have just charged in with a wand and hit any wizard I saw with a Stunning Spell – then he wouldn't have... wouldn't have..."

"He's not dead," Cohen said calmly. "His soul was just captured. Wizard methods for capturing souls are rare and difficult, so the fellow who snatched Frondo's soul must be very powerful."

"You can even eat souls," the Count instantly calmed down upon hearing Frondo might be savable. "So... Frondo is still alive, right? There's hope?"

"From my observation, yes," Cohen poked the cat in the basket. "And they clearly didn't need to escape after capturing Frondo's soul – they could have dealt with you too."

"But I didn't see anyone," the Count tilted his head.

"That's the problem. They need a messenger. They want to make sure Frondo's soulless shell gets sent back to me," Cohen snorted. "Minimal harm, maximum insult. They're waiting for me to chase after them."

The Count was silent for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

"But it doesn't matter. I actually really want to see what methods they plan to use when I show up," Cohen said. "Dare to mess with my cat—"

"You can't go," the Count suddenly said.

"?" Cohen looked at the Count strangely.

"It's clearly a trap, you can't go," the Count made his choice. "Compared to that cat, you're more important..."

"Very touching," Cohen said. "But unfortunately, you're my pet. I don't have to listen to you."

"You bloody—" the Count said, stamping his foot in frustration.

"Heh heh."

The situation with Frondo wasn't even that urgent – if the Silver Key's goal was to lure Cohen, his soul should remain safely alive so Cohen could follow the connection between Frondo's soul and body to find the right place. If Frondo's soul perished, Cohen wouldn't be able to track it using that connection, and the Silver Key group trying to lure him wouldn't get what they wanted. The pressure to act should actually be on the Silver Key side.

Getting desperate, are we?

So Cohen's primary goal was still preparing for Voldemort's resurrection.

"Here..."

That afternoon, Voldemort arrived as arranged. He looked at the room, vastly changed and filled with alchemy equipment, deeply sensing how much effort Cohen had put into resurrecting him.

But...

Stupid child! Lord Voldemort is just using you!

"Where is the body...?" Voldemort asked in a low, hissing voice.

There were several areas in the room covered with white cloths. Cohen was standing in the middle, near a spot covered by a white cloth that looked rather low – Voldemort thought this might be the height of the body if it was sitting on the floor – surely Cohen hadn't created him a new body only four feet tall...

"Wait, I need a little ceremony," Cohen said secretively, grabbing a corner of the white cloth. "This took a lot of effort."

"Ta-da!" Cohen dramatically whipped the cloth away.

"..." Voldemort stared at the thing under the white cloth, unsure what he was supposed to say.

"What's wrong? Don't you think this creation is interesting?" Cohen said, looking disappointed.

"Are you here to take a dump too?" the toilet proactively lowered its seat, as if welcoming Voldemort – but it clearly hadn't noticed that Voldemort currently had no body and could only possess objects or willing creatures to attach himself to.

"Are you quite idle?" Voldemort hissed, grinding his teeth soundlessly.

"In childhood, you just have lots and lots of time that needs wasting," Cohen said as if it were obvious. "The meaning of living is spending half your time eating and sleeping, and then spending lots of time chasing butterflies and neighbourhood dogs – in the end, the butterflies and dogs die, and your own time is wasted away too..."

(End of Chapter)