What could Edward possibly say?
With so many lovable relatives around and a granddaughter who's just a month old, what could Edward possibly have to complain about…
"As long as he promises never to hurt you…"
Edward laid out his bare-minimum condition.
"Oh, come on, I've never killed anyone in my life—well, maybe one or two—okay, possibly a dozen or so—I'm not sure, they died pretty quick…" Sisko said, counting off on its nonexistent fingers. "But I'd never hurt *you*."
"And he *can't* hurt me," Cohen added, giving Edward a reassuring shot in the arm with the fact that he'd already made an Unbreakable Vow with Sisko. "We've got an Unbreakable Vow in place."
"You even learned how to do an Unbreakable Vow?!"
But somehow, Edward found this the easiest thing to swallow tonight. Cohen was an extraordinary kid—learning any kind of magic seemed perfectly reasonable for him.
"It's a magic school, isn't it?" Cohen said confidently. "If I didn't learn it at Hogwarts, where else would I?"
"Wait a sec—who cast the spell for you and that snake?" Edward suddenly realized the bigger question.
"The Earl," Cohen replied. "He's decent at it, so I went ahead and got him a wand too."
"…"
Edward decided he'd be better off as the blissfully ignorant dad who stayed out of the loop.
Why had he even bothered asking Cohen about the basilisk today? Did he really think Cohen would let a basilisk, a dragon, and that black unicorn loose to rampage around Privet Drive? Surely this was the limit—he just hoped Cohen wouldn't drag any more dangerous creatures into that suitcase… His poor dad-heart couldn't take it.
"So, they're safe for you, and thanks to those glasses, they're not much of a threat to regular people either…" Edward muttered to himself. "You've already got a dragon… A few basilisks are just a life sentence in Azkaban waiting to happen…"
"Don't worry, even if I ended up in Azkaban, we wouldn't suffer," Cohen said comfortingly.
And he meant it—Azkaban was basically his second home by now.
—
Cohen and Edward had to head out. Rose was still in the Great Hall, and Edward needed to go home with her. Cohen, meanwhile, was due for a good night's sleep back in the dorms.
That left just the three snakes in the wooden cabin.
"Should I make one of those—what's it called—Unbreakable Vows too?" the old basilisk asked Sisko. "His dad didn't seem too… reassured."
"That's not some casual promise you can just toss around," Sisko warned. "If you want the kind of freedom you can grab anytime, steer clear of that spell."
"Then why'd you go and sign one with him so easily?" the old basilisk asked.
"He asked for it, so I gave it," Sisko said, sprawling out comfortably. "How else was I gonna land a sweet setup like this? My son's not gonna screw me over."
"But you're different," Sisko continued. "Who knows, maybe one day you'll head out, find a wife, have some kids, and settle into a life of lying around in a nest waiting to kick the bucket…"
"Rubbish. You've never even had kids for real," the old basilisk said scornfully.
"Who says I haven't?" Sisko corrected. "I had a clutch of eggs once, okay? They just got stolen—along with my wife."
"By that group… what were they called—'researchers'?"
"That was a load of nonsense I made up," Sisko admitted. "What wizard's nice enough to bring me a live cow every three days and tell me bedtime stories? They'd rather stuff me into the same jar they've got Cohen in. You're the one who's never seen the world—no human's reading bedtime stories to a snake in a cage."
"So, did you ever find them? How many eggs were left?" the old basilisk asked.
"Found them all," Sisko said with satisfaction. "I mean, I found Cohen, didn't I?"
—
The basilisk's "death" didn't bring the students the joy they'd hoped for—or rather, it died too soon.
They still had classes to attend, revisions to do, and exams to prep for in a few months. Plus, losing the thrilling topic of the attacker made life feel a little dull.
Thanks to Norbert's generous supply of saliva and dung, the mandrakes grew at lightning speed and were fully mature before Easter.
That brought some seriously bad news: Filch was "revived."
"But he wasn't even nailed to a cross," Ron said mournfully.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped, her Christian upbringing kicking in.
The good news? Lockhart was gone. After mysteriously getting attacked and waking up feeling like he'd been hit with a barrage of Exploding Charms, he'd坚决 quit Hogwarts, declaring the job far too dangerous.
He didn't realize his bad luck wasn't over yet—Hermione had already written to the *Daily Prophet* exposing his scams, and Rita Skeeter couldn't resist. What juicier story was there than the fall of a dazzling celebrity?
Taking over as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—for now—was Mr. Von Braun, the caretaker who'd filled in for Filch last time.
Cohen finally figured out why that name sounded so familiar. The first time he'd ridden the Knight Bus, that hard-of-hearing, forgetful old driver was a Von Braun too.
This new Professor Von Braun looked like he could be his son—though it might just be a common name, like all the Smiths and Johnsons in the country.
Professor Von Braun's teaching was surprisingly decent, at least for the younger years. In April, they learned more useful stuff than they had in their first two years combined—like how to tell a red cap from a goblin or ward off a hinkypunk.
Over the Easter holidays, Cohen didn't go home—too much homework.
The Earl, meanwhile, dodged Cohen's requests with the excuse that his claw was broken.
"Look at my claw!" the Earl whined pitifully. "I can't catch field mice or deliver letters for seven whole days…"
"You just broke your claw on purpose so you wouldn't have to help with my homework, didn't you?" Cohen asked calmly.
"Me? Do that? I'd *love* to help with your homework," the Earl said, totally unconvincingly.
"A break like that takes minutes to heal," Cohen pointed out.
"And a break like that takes seconds to happen again," the Earl shot back slyly.
"If I had your dedication to self-sabotage, I'd never have to do homework in my life," Cohen said with a sigh.
Oh well. Time to wait for Hermione's work to copy. One night, one miracle—leave the rest to the universe.
Cohen decided to tinker with the two flesh puppets he'd gotten from the basilisk mission. As for that book, *Advanced Counterfeit Spellcraft*…
It was hard to say what "counterfeit spells" really meant. True to its name, the book was full of fake versions of spells that looked legit when cast…
Just like… the real thing…
But with absolutely no effect!
(End of Chapter)