Chapter 19: Very well, you are now a master of the brain sealing technique.
The answer is yes. The brain-closing technique truly involves no spells; Chapter Seventeen of this book provides a complete explanation of its principles and practice methods.
The most basic form of the brain-closing technique involves emptying the mind—ceasing all thoughts, memories, and sensations—to prevent a Legilimens from sensing one’s emotions and thoughts.
There is absolutely no magic involved; it relies solely on willpower.
Since willpower is difficult to measure, practicing this technique requires having someone repeatedly cast Legilimency at you, allowing you to gauge whether your brain-closing ability has improved.
So who would Cohen choose to cast Legilimency on him—or rather, who would he trust to be the watcher?
-----------------
Wednesday afternoon, inside Cohen’s Wish-Granting Room.
“Coo? Coo?” the Count stared at Cohen as if he were watching a madman.
“Didn’t you say last time you’ve always wanted to use a wand? Here’s your chance.” Cohen placed a wand in front of the Count. “You practice the brain-closing technique with me, and I’ll secretly buy you a wand—if Ollivander is still willing to sell me one.”
“You know the Ministry of Magic forbids non-magical species from using wands, don’t you, kid?” The Count tilted his head. “And you’re quite the troublemaker—”
“You can use the new wand to catch field mice; the freezing charm is more efficient than your claws,” Cohen reminded him. “Besides, a roaring fire means cooked food. Secretly telling you, Harry said Hedwig really likes honey-glazed meat—”
“Deal! How do I say the spell again?”
The Count immediately agreed.
“Legilimens,” Cohen prompted. “Le-gi-li-men-s, with emphasis on the ‘men’ part—”
“Okay, Expecto Patronum—”
“That joke isn’t funny,” Cohen said, pulling a face.
“No sense of humor,” the Count snorted, flapping his wings to grab Cohen’s wand, then struggled midair to adjust his aim so the tip of the wand pointed at Cohen.
“How do you hairless ones even aim wands?” The Count circled around, unable to find a good position. “This thing’s tip is thinner than a field mouse’s tail—”
“Just keep casting. Cast enough and you’ll hit,” Cohen leaned back in his armchair, ready for the Count’s firepower cover.
In all of Hogwarts, Cohen trusted the Count the most—nothing builds trust like an unbreakable contract. No wonder witches and wizards invented the Unbreakable Vow to guarantee cooperation.
“Legilimens!”
The first attempt missed.
“Legilimens!”
The second shot went into the fireplace. Cohen wondered if the charcoal had feelings, but the Count was clearly emotional now.
“Damn it, Legilimens!”
Finally, the Count’s spell hit Cohen.
“?”
“?”
Both man and bird exchanged looks full of question marks.
“You didn’t really release it, did you?”
“Nonsense! I even got light from my wand. Are you saying the other Dementors are blind too?” The Count retorted mercilessly. “The wand lit up! Didn’t you see? It lit up!”
Since the Count was a bird, Cohen wasn’t sure if he could actually cast magic. To confirm whether that “damn Legilimens!” was immune due to Cohen’s technique or if the Count had failed, Cohen taught the Count to cast a few other spells. Cohen now suspected the Count might actually know magic since he had never said or used the Patronus Charm in front of him before.
Surprisingly, the other spells worked fine. Especially the Patronus Charm—the Count even conjured a corporeal Patronus—an owl, of course. Whether it was because Cohen had cleaned the Count’s midnight snack earlier or the Count’s clumsiness, the Patronus fiercely collided with Cohen’s head.
His head buzzed, feeling more painful than the Killing Curse.
“You—”
Cohen snatched the wand, momentarily stripping the Count of his feathers. The Count screamed an indescribable shriek, flapping his wings to cover himself, while Cohen’s face broke into a satisfied grin.
[Sin points +10]
[Note: Even the most evil dark wizard wouldn’t pluck a bird’s feathers just because it cast a Patronus on him.]
“You’re a complete—!” the trembling Count screamed. “Evil little beast! Perverted furry! Not even human!”
“Hah, you just realized that today? I never was!” Cohen said fiercely. “I was even going to buy you a wand, but now… maybe next life!”
After all this fuss and testing, Cohen had come to understand one thing.
He was already a master of the brain-closing technique.
Because it seemed the spell couldn’t target him at all, just as it couldn’t affect Dementors.
He appeared to have inherited almost every trait of a Dementor—except for being burdened with a human body.
Cohen even faced an Avada Kedavra curse himself, which left the nearby featherless Count stunned for several seconds, forgetting to curse him in return.
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it wouldn’t kill a Dementor.
Just as Cohen predicted, spells affecting thoughts and souls had no effect on him.
“You’re right, but Cohen remains unaffected.”
The only downside was that the Patronus could physically touch Cohen, and with enough force, could even knock him out of his body.
Perhaps strengthening his soul could withstand a stronger Patronus impact, but in the relatively safe magical world Cohen inhabited now, that wasn’t a concern—because an evil dark wizard cannot cast a Patronus Charm.
So next… he could safely approach Voldemort, who was preparing to recruit him.
Unthinkable: “orphan,” “dark magic experiment,” “half-Dementor,” “interested in dark magic,” “hands stained with the blood of over three hundred wizards”—all these sinister labels converged on an eleven-year-old wizard. How could Voldemort proceed?
“Kid, won’t that drive you crazy with desire?”
Perhaps the only concern was whether Voldemort would kill this promising recruit out of jealousy.
While Cohen was calculating his plan to infiltrate the enemy, the shivering, naked Count spoke up.
“Finished drooling?”
His voice trembled.
“Quick, put my feathers back! I’m freezing! I’m freezing!”
“How do I put them back?”
Cohen asked sincerely.
He really didn’t know the countercurse to the Disapparition spell.
“…”
“********************!”