For the next week, Harry sought out Cohen every few hours to learn new spells. Eventually, Cohen got tired of the constant interruptions and dumped Harry into the Room of Requirement, dragging out the chimaera beast from his case to serve as a substitute teacher.

"But... Goat doesn't even use a wand," Harry said, bewildered.

"It's all the same theory. He's read every book out there," Cohen replied. "Relax, just learn from him."

"As long as it's not too obscure, I should be able to help," Goat said calmly. "Please avoid disturbing the lion during practice. It didn't sleep well last night and is currently napping."

"Zzzzzz…" The lion's snoring was steady, and a snot bubble grew and shrank from its nose—almost fairytale-like. Of course, if it got woken up, the scene would shift to something much more... mature.

With Harry left to train, Cohen went to check on the Weasley twins and their betting pools.

Depending on the size of the pool, Cohen would consider placing bets himself. After all, as the bookie, he felt entitled to take a cut.

Fred and George weren't hard to find. Cohen spotted them in the Owlery, seemingly placing an order via post.

"Zonko's?" Cohen appeared behind them.

"Whoa—bloody hell!" George clutched his chest.

"I thought it was Filch," Fred muttered, still shaken. "We're just ordering supplies. Planning to tweak the Ton-Tongue Toffees and Canary Creams so the effects don't last too long."

"We've already got the betting pools going," George said. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw—all in. Even some Slytherins placed bets. Honestly didn't expect them to join in..."

"You planning to scam them?" Cohen raised an eyebrow.

"We're not that petty. Besides, they make it easy." Fred chuckled. "We split the bets into categories—single champion wins, joint victories... Even with odds at 10:1 for you and Harry winning together, not one Slytherin bet on you two. But Ravenclaw had three students drop a decent amount, and Gryffindor's backing you too."

"As long as there's profit, it's fine," Cohen nodded. "We've got just over a week till the first task. How about a mini pool on task rankings? Stir things up a bit?"

"You know the rankings?" Fred looked surprised.

"Nope. That's why I suggest keeping it small—just to build hype. Once people win something, they'll want to bet more. It'll pull in bystanders too."

"Fair enough." Fred nodded.

"We'll set it up right after this—five champions, pick a top performer," George added.

After mailing off their order, the twins scrambled off. Just then, an owl that rarely visited flew into the Owlery.

"A message for you." The owl, Count, flapped down beside Cohen.

"You've been following me!" Cohen accused.

"Of course I have. I'm your owl." Count said lazily. "Your dad said he'll be coming to watch your tournament match. Families of the champions are allowed into Hogwarts during the events."

"Oh," Cohen said simply.

"And here's a bonus—I overheard something. You'll probably find out soon anyway," Count added. "So technically I don't have to tell you, but—"

"Are you giving me this message on an installment plan? Just spit it out."

"Barty Crouch came back to Hogwarts today. Probably to inform you about something. Maybe more than one thing, but I only caught one. The Ministry has approved Herbert to attend and watch the Triwizard Tournament."

"Because of Rita's article?" Cohen raised an eyebrow. "That actually worked?"

"How should I know?" Count huffed. "If old Barty had time to narrate the entire situation out loud to thin air, he'd have to be really bored. Honestly, I should change careers—become a spy, eavesdrop on critical intel. No one suspects the owl."

"Animagi already dominate that market," Cohen shook his head. "Besides, the wizarding world's so small. No one's paying three Galleons a week to hire an owl who can eavesdrop on the neighbors."

"Guess I'm doomed to be a bloody owl messenger forever." Count flapped off sadly—likely heading back to the Room of Requirement for a nap while enjoying the hypnotic spectacle of Harry practicing spells on loop.

As Count predicted, Barty Crouch Sr. had indeed come to Hogwarts, specifically to inform Cohen of a few things.

"Mr. Norton."

Cohen ran into Crouch in a third-floor corridor. Crouch immediately called out.

"There are some updates I need to inform you of. Every champion will be notified," Crouch said. "During the events, your relatives are allowed in the audience. There's a form for it—your parents already submitted theirs. And Herbert, from Burke Manor—your uncle—he submitted one too."

"I didn't think the Ministry would let him out," Cohen commented.

"The original sentence was admittedly too harsh," Crouch paused. "The Wizengamot has decided on a temporary allowance. Right now, we're mainly seeking your consent."

"I don't mind either way," Cohen said indifferently.

Wait a second—Herbert, Edward, and Rose… they're all going to be in the same arena, in the same spectator section, watching the same kid compete?

Considering there were still some unresolved grudges between Rose's side and Herbert's, things might spiral fast—maybe even faster than the actual match.

Especially since both Edward and Tonks had mentioned that Rose could seriously throw hands, and poor malnourished Herbert looked like a single punch would break him...

"When exactly do families arrive? The day before? Or the day of the match?" Cohen asked.

"Usually the day before. Hogwarts needs to arrange temporary lodging," Crouch said. "Alright, that's all from me. I'll go find the other champions now—especially the one from Durmstrang."

Day before, huh… That's manageable.

At least Cohen would have time to mediate. Hopefully, he wouldn't finish the match only to look up and see Herbert knocked out cold in the stands.

"One more thing," Crouch suddenly turned back with a grave look. "Next time, avoid saying anything ambiguous to Rita Skeeter."

That Azkaban article dragged up a whole mess of skeletons from the Ministry's closet—and Crouch himself was one of the people involved in that sentence. Thanks to Cohen's loose lips, a bunch of old-guard officials were now scrambling for cover.

Support me by leaving a comment, voting, and visiting myPatr-eon at ilham20

Check out another story about Hogwarts in my profile original works