Chapter 15: The Dementor Youth of Youth Will Not Encounter the Noseless Old Man

After leaving behind Harry, who was hesitating but eventually returned to the dormitory to play chess with Ron, Cohen successfully reached the clearing outside the castle.

"Damn it, in Hogwarts Legacy you can just use Floo Powder to teleport directly into the Forbidden Forest!"

The location of the Forbidden Forest was clear, and so was Cohen’s position.

Between the castle and the Forbidden Forest lay a flat, open meadow. It had to be said, crossing here during the day without being noticed was almost impossible.

However, Cohen managed to sneak in by pretending to befriend Hagrid and then cleverly circling around to slip into the forest.

The price was a pocket full of rock-like bark biscuits. If danger arose, he could use them as stones to throw at monsters.

As soon as he entered the Forbidden Forest, the bright sunlight outside was mostly blocked by the dense tree canopy.

The ground was tangled with intricate old roots, and towering ancient trees stretched their branches overhead, forming a thick protective net—it was hard to imagine anyone riding a flying broomstick through here.

The forest smelled of earth and decaying leaves. Cohen glanced left and right, occasionally spotting mushrooms and herbs recorded in *One Thousand Magical Plants and Fungi*.

But he saw no creatures with soul strength above 2—meaning, so far, all he could see were insects.

Yet Cohen wasn’t interested in absorbing worm souls; their soul strength was only 1 point, which was simply the system’s lowest label.

Even if he consumed all the worm souls in the castle, it might not fill his soul’s void.

“Gurgle—”

Just thinking about coming here to feed on souls made Cohen’s hunger resurface.

Thankfully, he’d brought some candies to stave off the craving, so he didn’t have to endure the hunger all the way.

His efforts finally paid off when he found a nest of magical creatures with a soul strength of 3 in a tree hollow—

Ashfire Serpents.

He arrived just moments before the Ashfire Serpent mother laid her last eggs. Since their lifespan was only an hour, the serpent would turn to ash immediately after laying eggs.

“If I don’t eat it, it’ll die anyway. The forest feeds the Ashfire Serpent, but the serpent returns nothing to the forest. Suck!”

Cohen slurped the soul of the Ashfire Serpent mother—there was no special sensation, even less impressive than Professor McGonagall’s transfiguration creations.

Watching the serpent mother turn to ash after laying eggs, Cohen’s attention shifted to the clutch of Ashfire Serpent eggs.

“Hiss...”

Cohen felt his long-dormant conscience stir.

“These little ones will definitely burn this tree down after hatching. Preventing forest fires is everyone’s responsibility, so I’ll just suck—”

A clutch of eggs with a soul strength of 1 point each, combined with the 3-point Ashfire Serpent mother, gave Cohen a 0.1% boost in soul strength. Though small, it was enough.

With enough quantity, even the smallest gains can pile up!

And the forest was abundant with Ashfire Serpent eggs.

They were born from uncontrolled magical fire and reproduced asexually. If a clutch appeared somewhere, it meant a massive Ashfire Serpent colony would form there.

Ashfire Serpents were often exterminated, partly due to their numbers and pest-like threat, and partly for their medicinal properties—their eggs were ingredients in love potions and could treat malaria.

Not wanting to waste anything, Cohen froze all the eggs after absorbing their souls, planning to bring them back as potion ingredients.

Ashfire Serpents, hidden in stone crevices and tree hollows, were relatively hard to find, but Cohen had a unique advantage—he could see soul strength tags through certain obstacles.

Thus, Cohen spent the journey ruthlessly clearing Ashfire Serpents, freezing the eggs, and pocketing them.

The bark biscuits Hagrid gave also played a crucial role. Cohen ate them along the way to free up space for the eggs, eliminating any chance of getting lost.

No need to worry about animals stealing the biscuits either, since no one except Hagrid—and few animals—could chew them.

Besides Ashfire Serpents, the forest occasionally held lost eight-eyed spiderlings—

"Evil monsters! Suck!"

Two more confused little eight-eyed spiders were added to the tally.

Eight-eyed giant spiders were obviously a tier above Ashfire Serpents, even as juveniles they had a soul strength of 4.

Cohen swept through the forest, clearing the souls of passing creatures—he felt even passing dogs would get a soul slurp.

Of course, if the animals were cute, Cohen would let them go—

“Double standards,”

Count said, perching near a broken tree trunk with a black mouse in his mouth, mumbling indistinctly.

“You have to understand one thing: being cute means you can do whatever you want.”

After stuffing the last frozen Ashfire Serpent egg into his bulging robe pocket and releasing a still-sleepy adorable moon-mad beast, Cohen rolled his eyes at the Count who had appeared out of nowhere.

“Stop trying to look cute. The image of you scolding a mouse’s ancestors for a whole hour always pops into my mind.”

“Oh.”

The Count tilted his head cutely.

“You continue your species extinction plan in the forest—I’m just here to deliver a message. Harry Potter asked me to find you and say they’ll come to Hagrid’s at 3 p.m. this afternoon. Want to join?”

“Sure, I’ll ask Hagrid for some valuable unicorn hair or something—using Harry’s name,” Cohen replied. “Tell Harry I’ll come out at 3, no need to wait for me at the castle.”

Even at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the Hogwarts bells could be heard, so Cohen wasn’t worried about missing the time.

The Count flapped his wings and flew off, while Cohen ventured deeper into the forest’s midsection.

The temperature suddenly dropped; sunlight was almost completely blocked by trees. Occasionally, unidentified creatures with soul strengths of seven, eight, or even ten dashed by.

Cohen was already considering whether to end this leveling trip. Thanks to his tireless efforts, the Ashfire Serpent clan and several lost eight-eyed giant spiderlings contributed a combined 3.4% increase in soul integrity.

Cohen’s soul strength had reached 15 points, much faster than exchanging sin points for soul shards.

However, a problem arose: his soul integrity seemed to have hit a bottleneck. He already had 15 points when destroying the fifth-to-last Ashfire Serpent nest, yet the soul integrity percentage hadn’t increased by even 0.1 since.

It seemed... these low-level souls no longer gave any improvement.

Suddenly, as Cohen prepared to turn back, he saw glimmering silver blood on the shrubs.

It was unicorn blood.

The trail led deep into the forest, obscured by bushes that showed signs of rough passage, branches bent and broken.

Magic... mixed with a sweet soul scent made Cohen’s heart pound.

Recently, the only one known to attack unicorns in the forest was the Dementor-affiliated Quirinus Quirrell, who had Voldemort affixed to the back of his head, right?

Already sucking unicorn blood? Cohen had thought this event would happen only in the latter half of the term.

Voldemort was not someone Cohen could handle now—his soul strength was a full 40 points. The shops didn’t sell a “Five-Minute True Man Experience Card to Instantly Reach 100 Soul Strength.” Facing Voldemort now would be suicide.

The Aurors failing to kill Cohen didn’t mean Voldemort, steeped in dark magic for so long, couldn’t. What if he had spells specifically to kill Dementors?

“Snort—!!!”

Cohen was ready to flee when a loud neigh sounded behind him.

“Evil creature, get out of our territory!”

What? Evil creature? Quirrell was being driven out by centaurs? Behind him?

Amidst chaotic hoofbeats, Cohen couldn’t tell if he heard Quirrell running away.

But with the centaurs here, Quirrell probably wouldn’t dare act recklessly...

Cohen turned to look behind, wanting to see Voldemort’s furious escape.

But it seemed...

“This isn’t how the script goes,” Cohen twitched his lips. Behind him were no Quirrells—only centaurs, at least ten of them.

The centaurs drew their bows like crescent moons, all targeting Cohen!

[Soul Strength: 15]

Exactly Cohen’s current level, but Cohen had no intention of killing centaurs unless they attacked first.

The leader, a wild and proud centaur with a beard, stared at Cohen for a long time before finally blurting out oddly:

“What the hell are you?”

“He’s a strange foal, Bain, but we never harm foals,” another melancholy red-haired centaur intercepted Bain’s arrow, adding, “The one who harmed the unicorn isn’t him—”

Suddenly, a cold arrow shot from the direction of the unicorn blood trail. Cohen reacted swiftly and dodged—then realized he could send out half his soul to scout. Had he known centaurs and Voldemort were here, he’d have slipped away fifteen meters back.

“Whizz!”

Another arrow followed, accompanied by hoofbeats—a second centaur squad was flanking from the side.

Cohen even heard the crackling sounds of someone dashing quickly through waist-high bushes.

If he didn’t run now, he’d risk being mistakenly killed by another group of archery-wielding centaurs!

Cohen wasn’t willing to lose his current body—not only cute, but changing bodies might make Edward and Rose grow distant. Cohen didn’t want to hear himself ask his parents, “Do you love my soul, or just my body?”—sounds bizarre enough.

Just as Cohen decided to sprint away, Quirinus “No-Nose” Quirrell, cloaked in black with a hood, also emerged from the bushes.

Cohen immediately pulled his own hood over his head—everyone was wearing disguises; whoever revealed their true name would be embarrassed.

Two seconds later, Quirrell was level with Cohen, their escape routes nearly identical—the only flat path in the forest.

“What a coincidence, you’re running away too?”