If he spilled the beans, someone as kind-hearted as Edward might end up regretting it for the rest of his life—after all, he'd spent years not even glancing at old Charlson. It wasn't until Charlson's death that Edward realized they'd been stuck in a cold war with each other the whole time. After some serious thought, Cohen decided not to tell Edward. Some truths don't do any good—they just pile on the pain for no reason.
Following the spot Charlson had pointed out in his diary, Cohen made his way to the bedroom hallway.
There was no door leading to a basement like the one Charlson had seen.
But Cohen had something better than detection magic up his sleeve. He opted to partially detach his soul and phase through the walls to hunt for that hidden basement.
Solid…
Solid…
Still solid…
Cohen floated around behind the walls for ages but couldn't find any sign of a basement entrance.
Where's the basement? A whole giant basement, just gone?
Did this Chimera Beast take its den with it when it left the house or something? What kind of Basilisk-level bed-obsessed weirdo was this…?
Aside from that, Cohen couldn't come up with any other reasonable explanation. There were no traces of an Extension Charm, no lingering magic from a Transfiguration or Digging Spell—nothing.
Combined with the Muggle disappearances he'd read about in the papers, Cohen was almost certain this Chimera Beast had moved out a month ago—and taken its basement home along with it.
But why was it snatching people? According to the diary, the Chimera Beast had only growled threateningly at Charlson a few times. If it really had a taste for killing, Charlson wouldn't have lived long enough to catch a glimpse of the future and make his escape.
The weight of saving the world was practically kicking Cohen in the butt, urging him to track down that Chimera Beast before it got any wilder or harder to tame. After all, Martha was still living here, and if the beast went berserk, it could easily become a threat to her too.
History only had one recorded case of someone killing a Chimera Beast, which was more than enough to prove how unpredictable and dangerous these things were.
"Cohen got here with me. He's off looking for that nonexistent basement," Edward's voice drifted in from outside the living room door.
Next to him came Martha's grumbling.
"Ugh, if Charlson hadn't lost his mind over that hallucination, he probably could've lived another few decades," Martha said. "You'd better keep an eye out too, Edward. Don't let Cohen catch some kind of 'basement curse.' My old classmate Selena was saying it might be…"
The door swung open, and Edward walked in with Martha. Cohen poked his head out from the bedroom hallway.
"So? Find that basement yet?" Edward asked, already knowing Cohen wouldn't have. It was more like he was humoring a kid's curiosity.
"Nope, there's no basement here. Looks like Grandpa really was seeing things," Cohen replied.
But his eyes were locked on Martha—or rather, on what she was holding.
It was a black-and-white cow-patterned cat, the kind some people might jokingly call a "dick cat" in certain circles.
Cohen stared at it, and it stared back, nestled comfortably in Martha's arms.
The room fell silent for a few awkward seconds.
"So, what do you think? Do you like Mr. Frondo?" Martha noticed Cohen eyeing the cat and assumed he was a cat lover.
But Cohen wasn't focused on it because he liked it. It was because…
[Soul Strength: 10]
The exact same as the Count—and both were animals. For a split second, Cohen almost wondered if this cat was the Count's Animagus form.
A magic kitty!
"Mr. Frondo?" Cohen kept his eyes glued to the cat. Its expression had shifted from blank to a sneaky, shifty-eyed look, like it was plotting an escape.
"Poor Mr. Frondo showed up here twelve years ago. It was a freezing Christmas, and he was just curled up all alone by our doorstep," Martha said casually as she plopped down on the living room sofa, her voice tinged with sympathy. "But now he's got a warm home. Look at him—you'd never guess he's a cat in his teens, right?"
And no, this wasn't just some ordinary senior kitty.
Cohen didn't call out the cat's oddities right away. It was busy winking and squinting at him, clearly trying to send a vibe like, "I'm a good kitty, I swear."
"Have you checked out your room yet?" Edward asked, spotting Cohen's suitcase leaning against the sofa.
To keep Martha from accidentally peeking inside and spotting the Basilisk or dragon stuff, Cohen quickly grabbed the case.
"I'll take your suitcase to your room for you…" Edward said, not paying much attention to Cohen's staring contest with the cat. After all, Cohen was always taking care of magical creatures—liking a little cat seemed perfectly normal.
Once Edward disappeared into the room with the suitcase, Martha called Cohen over to the sofa.
"Come here! Mr. Frondo's super friendly. Wanna pet him? Edward says you're a big animal lover," Martha said warmly, practically dumping "Mr. Frondo" into Cohen's arms.
Cohen caught the cat and could feel it bristling—probably because Cohen was part Dementor, which wasn't exactly a cat's favorite vibe.
"He's adorable. Mind if I take him out for a little walk?" Cohen asked. "I've never been to Coombe Fort before, and I'd love to check out the scenery."
"Oh, I'm afraid that's not a good idea," Martha said with a hint of reluctance. "Cohen, things haven't been too peaceful around Coombe Fort lately. There've been five Muggle disappearances already, and they might even be tied to the wizarding world. I just got back from talking to a Ministry of Magic employee who's investigating. It'd be dangerous for you to go out right now."
"I saw that newspaper. Didn't it say the disappearances only happen at night?" Cohen pointed out. "It's still mid-afternoon…"
"What's that?" Edward stepped out of Cohen's room.
"What's up with Cohen? What's going on? Disappearances?"
"It's that 'urgent investigation' Arnold Peascod was talking about, silly," Martha chuckled. "Why else would the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad show up in Coombe Fort?"
"How about Dad comes with me for a walk, then? I can't just sit around the house molding on the first day of break…" Cohen suggested.
"But I've got to—" Edward started to say he needed to cook, but then he caught Cohen winking at him.
"Alright, I'll go with you for a stroll. It's been a long car ride anyway," Edward corrected himself.
"Sweet!" Cohen said, faking a cheerful tone.
With "Mr. Frondo" the cat in his arms, Cohen stepped out of the house and got his first look at the town.
Martha's place sat right on the edge of the little town. No wonder she'd once said, "Even the Muggle mailmen don't dare come here…"
From the outside, it really did have a "keep out" vibe. The garden walls were covered in thick vines bristling with dark thorns, and the grayish-white house paired with the wild, menacing plants in the yard gave off serious creepy, abandoned, haunted-house energy.
According to Martha last time, this was all Grandpa Charlson's doing—meant to keep Muggles from bothering them.
"The town's small. Walk straight down this road, and you'll hit the other side in ten minutes," Edward said, pointing toward the cluster of buildings in the distance. "All old houses—way different from London's style."
"Who's that Ministry person Grandma Martha mentioned?" Cohen asked, petting the cat as Edward led him toward the town center, keeping the chat casual.
"One of the Memory Cancellers from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad," Edward recalled. "Your grandma was filling him in on the town since she's the only witch around here."
(End of Chapter)