"During the third task, they should be watching from the stands," Dumbledore said, his brow furrowed.

"That's exactly the problem," Cohen replied. "The Cup is a Portkey—that's Voldemort's plan. At first, I thought it was the Portkey itself that brought me to that place... but now I'm starting to suspect that Silver Key might've tampered with the Cup as well. But then, why didn't Harry end up there too?"

"Your family won't be in contact with the Cup," Dumbledore said firmly. "The Triwizard Cup is for display purposes only—it's not a prize, and even the champion can't take it home. So far, I still believe the most likely scenario is that you are real, and the 'family' you saw was fake. Perhaps, in some extreme situation—"

"Then I'll have to break the vow I made to Edward," Cohen interrupted. "What kind of situation would make me choose to... wait—"

Suddenly, an idea struck Cohen.

There were indeed many ways he could kill a Silver Key member. But what if none of those methods worked on the one impersonating Edward?

What if the soul strength of this "fake Edward" was far beyond Cohen's current level? Then the Killing Curse might actually be necessary.

A Silver Key member with over 49 soul strength didn't seem likely—but it wasn't completely impossible either...

It would be absurd for someone so powerful to still be involved in a cult like that, but...

One thing Cohen could be sure of: the Silver Key had definitely gotten Edward's hair through that clueless Ravenclaw student—possibly even Herbert's and Rose's too.

So the idea that Cohen might be forced to use the Killing Curse seemed much more believable.

The only downside was that he'd have to break that very recent vow he made—"Whoever uses the Killing Curse is no better than a bottom-tier Dementor."

"You thought of something, Cohen?" Dumbledore asked after a long silence, concern in his voice.

"I think I've figured a few things out," Cohen sighed in relief. "Right now, the most important thing is to make sure Edward doesn't become the next Minister for Magic..."

"...?"

Dumbledore didn't press Cohen for details.

Though he deeply hoped Cohen wouldn't resort to the Unforgivable Curses, compared to a scenario where Edward actually dies, Cohen using a Killing Curse on a terrorist didn't seem quite so bad anymore.

Still, he felt obligated to say something.

"Don't let your heart—"

"Edward already gave me that whole speech..." Cohen waved a hand after listening to yet another warning about how Unforgivable Curses would tear apart your soul.

"I'm not chasing after Fiendfyre or anything, don't worry."

———

After figuring out that possible future, Cohen felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. At least now, he didn't feel the constant pressure to throw Edward into a trunk.

Earlier, he had seriously considered extracting Edward's soul in advance, storing it in a jar—or just locking him in a box and having the Chimera beast guard it until the Triwizard Tournament was over.

Inside the Room of Requirement—

"I may not be human, but even I think that sounds inhumane," said the Count while Cohen was busy practicing spells. "If this were in a Muggle novel, you'd definitely be classified as yandere."

"Spoken like a true cynic," Cohen replied. "I thought he was going to die—"

"But maybe he won't," the Count reasoned, his tone surprisingly thoughtful. "Think about it—your parents tore apart their own souls and stuffed them into a living being. Guess what that's called? That's called making a Horcrux…"

"...?"

"And think about it—don't you have a strange connection with them? Every Horcrux owner knows that—"

"Don't make it sound like you've been a Horcrux before," Cohen muttered with pursed lips.

As absurd as it sounded… the Count's theory kind of made sense in a weird way.

"It's a rhetorical technique!" the Count fluffed his feathers proudly. "Pretending I'm the subject makes my arguments more convincing—I learned it from some guy doing speeches in a tavern."

"So that's why you've got a tiny mustache and a German accent," Cohen said distractedly. "If you start World War III, count me in."

"I do not have a German accent!" the Count huffed. "And birds don't grow mustaches—I don't even use facial hair to hold food!"

"Ja\\~," Cohen replied with a smirk.

"What the hell was that?" the Count asked, confused by the unfamiliar syllable.

"You just said essen—German for 'eat'—so I said ja—'yes.' We were both mixing English and German and, well, that leads to some comedy gold—"

"Alright, alright, I get it. You hate this gag," the Count grumbled. "I won't do it next time—just don't give me a headache. But why are you practicing all these basic spells again? Stunning Charm… Confundus Charm… You already know these."

"Just doing some research into new spells," Cohen said. "I realized that spellwork and alchemy aren't all that different at their core—take this one for example—"

He suddenly flicked his wand and cast a pink-colored spell toward the Count.

"Fugax Somnium."

The moment it hit, the Count's eyes went wide, and he immediately looked down at his feathers.

Three seconds later, his expression returned to normal.

"What the hell did you hit me with?! I turned pink!—"

"Probably a spell that shows you your heart's deepest desire," Cohen grinned. "Guess you've got a hidden girly side."

"Screw your girly side!" the Count flapped his wings furiously and tried to lunge at Cohen.

While things were fairly relaxed on Cohen's end, the same couldn't be said for Harry—his stress levels were clearly way higher.

All throughout April and May, Cohen often saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione practicing spells in empty classrooms around the castle. He'd even get dragged into practice with them sometimes.

"I could totally help Harry train—only seven Sickles an hour," Cohen joked. "Aren't you guys still taking exams in June?"

Only the champions were exempt from final exams. Ron and Hermione's exams were scheduled on the same day as the third task. They really should've been studying by now.

Especially Hermione—she usually started her study plans at least ten weeks early every year. And yet here she was...

"Exams don't matter."

Hermione said tensely as she slapped a long list of spells in front of Cohen.

"Cohen, you and Harry need to learn as many of these as you can—especially the counter-curses for the darker spells. In the final task, who knows what kind of opponents you'll be up against…"

"Hermione, I think you're forgetting something—Harry and I are opponents too," Cohen pointed out with a raised eyebrow.