"Ambiguous, wasn't it?"

"Well, say it more clearly next time and there won't be any misunderstandings."

After saying goodbye to Mr. Crouch, Cohen returned to the Room of Requirement.

Harry's training was still underway. He was currently learning a spell from the Goat that could turn a person's nose into a mushroom.

"You don't seriously think the first task is going to be a duel with another person, do you?" Cohen asked Harry.

"No luck still…" Harry grumbled as he gave his wand a frustrated flick. The dummy in front of him only had a few mushroom-like speckles on the tip of its nose. "I'd prefer it to be a duel! I don't even want to imagine what I'd do if I had to face something like a Basilisk or a Chimaera—what good would a wand be against that?"

"Forget the Basilisk," Cohen shook his head. "Not every one of them's wearing the glasses I made for Siso and his crew—throwing one into a stadium would basically be mass murder."

"Utility spells are often more useful than the flashy, destructive ones," the Goat advised wisely. "A lot of magical creatures are resistant to direct spell damage, so you'll need something a bit more creative."

"Like what?" Harry looked up at the Goat, eyes hopeful.

"Swelling Charm, Freezing Charm, Summoning Charm, things like that," said the Goat.

"Ugh…" Harry groaned at the mention of the Summoning Charm. He'd been struggling with that one. "Don't even mention that one—I always feel like there's some invisible wall keeping everything from flying to me…"

"It's all about mindset," Cohen clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Start with the Summoning Charm. Worst comes to worst, and you can't handle the situation on your own, just shove the Goat and the others into a box, then summon it to you mid-task. Instant backup."

"Huh?" Harry gaped. "Wait—you can do that?"

"You summoned it with magic, didn't you? That's not against the rules," Cohen raised an eyebrow. "They only said 'you can only bring your wand into the arena.'"

"Is that true?" Harry turned eagerly to the Goat.

"No objections from me," said the Goat pleasantly.

"Rrrgh…" the Lion grumbled in its sleep.

It sounds like it objects, but just ignore it, said the Longhorn Water Serpent. We're making a run for it after the tournament anyway.

"Sounds like a great publicity stunt," Cohen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And it'll make it look like you pulled off the win solo. Yeah—let's go with that."

"Wait—what? I'm not ready! How am I supposed to summon something as huge as a Chimaera onto the field?! That box would have to be enormous!" Harry was starting to panic.

"Come on, Harry. You don't want to be the only Champion who embarrasses himself, do you?" Cohen gave a sly smile.

"But…" Harry looked anxiously at the Chimaera, which was about the size of a small van, then down at his wand.

"Just focus on practicing," Cohen said, straightening Harry's head. Then he turned to the Goat, "Push him hard, will you? I've got rumors to spread."

"What rumors—?" Harry asked nervously.

"You'll understand once you've mastered the Summoning Charm," Cohen said over his shoulder, already striding out of the Room of Requirement.

The truth was, even if Harry didn't master the spell by the time of the task, the Goat could still reach him easily—the Chimaera could fly, after all.

But to keep up appearances and avoid suspicion, Cohen figured it was better if Harry summoned it himself. Made the act more convincing.

---

The Saturday before the task, Hogwarts approved a trip to Hogsmeade for all students in third year and above, so they could stock up on snacks and celebratory gear for the big day.

"Why don't you two take a break?" Hermione said over breakfast, glancing between Cohen and Harry. "The first task's on Tuesday, and honestly, you both look like you're about to snap."

She couldn't decide whether their intense conversation about "spreading rumors" was the result of overwhelming stress or the complete absence of it.

"That's how you're talking about me out there?!" Harry grabbed Cohen by the collar. "Telling people I've mastered some terrifying new spell—now everyone keeps asking me if I've learned a Killing Curse!"

He'd just escaped a swarm of overexcited younger Gryffindors who'd heard a rumor: "Harry Potter is training with some kind of super-deadly spell to survive the tournament."

"The Goat actually does know that spell. Want to learn it?" Cohen tried to steer the topic elsewhere.

"Since when is the Summoning Charm some kind of deadly curse?!" Harry shouted.

"Well, the more outrageous the rumor, the more bets we get on you," Cohen said shamelessly. "The more they bet on you, the less they bet on me. That way, my odds shoot up. If you keep up the act, I'll cut you in—ten percent?"

"Great. And now Rita Skeeter's going to be writing insane headlines again…" Harry muttered darkly.

"Twenty percent."

"Sirius is going to mock me—"

"Thirty. Can't go higher. You'll still make four or five hundred Galleons at least. Any more would be just greedy."

"Should I occasionally flash some green light from my wand in public? Like when I'm zoning out or something?" Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net

"Honestly, you two…" Hermione covered her face with her hands.

"Wait—Hermione, what were you saying earlier?" Harry suddenly remembered she'd been trying to say something before.

"I was suggesting you go to Hogsmeade… clear your heads…" Hermione hesitated. "Ron's going, too. You two could—"

"Then I'm not going," Harry said flatly.

"That's a bit much…" Cohen winced.

"Ron wants to make up, you know," Hermione sighed. "He didn't want this rift either—"

"If he really wanted to make up, he should come say he was wrong for doubting me," Harry snapped. "And Cohen."

"You don't have to drag me into it so hard," Cohen muttered. "You make it sound like I'm some kind of bonus prize."

"Maybe you could try explaining things again?" Hermione said, clearly torn. "Harry, Cohen—I know you both want to make up with Ron."

"I'm shy," Cohen deflected with his usual deadpan tone.

"I do not want to make up with him," Harry lied unconvincingly.

"Then why don't you want to go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked, hitting the nail right on the head. "If you really hated him, you wouldn't be avoiding him. Right?"

"That's not it—I'll just go with Cohen," Harry said quickly. "Cohen's enough. Who needs Ron?"

"…That sounds weird now," Cohen muttered, frowning.

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