Hogwarts, i am Dementor

"Woohoo!"

Cohen cheered.

"You little—coo-coo-coo-coo-coo—"

The Earl was so flustered it couldn't even form human words, its big eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

A Dementor-shaped creature, woven from the happy emotions Cohen had swiped from the Earl, floated near the ceiling of the Room of Requirement. Aside from its silvery hue, it looked almost identical to a regular Dementor.

"I must've passed out from the shock and still be dreaming," the Earl declared. "You evil Dementor spawn aren't hijacking my springtime fantasies—any minute now, a flock of owls is gonna…"

The Earl turned away, muttering about its dream—something involving a brown, fuzzy ball—and refused to look at Cohen or the silvery Dementor hovering above.

This was too freaky. Way too freaky.

It was like Satan ripping off his devil skin and Jesus popping out from inside.

But Cohen didn't care about the Earl's meltdown. If an Animagus's Patronus matched their animal form, it made total sense that his, as a half-Dementor, would be a Dementor, right?

He didn't have anything scared of Patronuses on hand to test it with, so he couldn't tell if this one could fend off real Dementors or Lethifolds…

Maybe he could snag a few Dementors from Azkaban?

But that came with issues. Cohen wasn't a pure Dementor—would they shun him? See him as one of their own, a human, or maybe a "Mudblood" among Dementors?

And a big question: could he even eat them? Did Dementors have souls? No one had really studied them enough to say.

Too many unknowns. He'd have to add "sneak into Azkaban" to this year's to-do list.

"Do you know where Azkaban is?" Cohen asked the Earl.

"Are you talking to your Dementor Patronus?" The Earl, curled up in its nest, didn't turn around.

"I'm talking to you," Cohen corrected. "I'm not nuts enough to chat with a puppet I made yet."

With that, he waved off the spell.

This Patronus success proved Cohen could bypass his soul's Dementor instinct to dodge Patronuses by using sneaky tricks—like gobbling up someone else's emotions.

But the shape? Yeah, not exactly people-friendly.

Most folks' Patronuses took the form of "the animal they're most attuned to," and Dementors didn't exactly scream "warm and fuzzy."

So, for now, this wasn't gonna convince anyone of his inner goodness or justice.

There had to be a fix, though—Patronus shapes could change… right?

"What crazy idea's brewing in your head now?" The Earl slowly turned back, visibly relieved to see the Dementor Patronus gone.

"That thing almost sucked away the best memory of my life. From now on, I'm absolutely—"

"Patronuses don't suck happiness," Cohen cut in. "That was me—but that's not the point. I've got a big new plan. Do you know where Azkaban is?"

"You planning a rebellion and coup already?" the Earl asked suspiciously. "You've only been here half a year…"

"The 'Minister Norton' plan kicks off after graduation," Cohen said seriously. "This Azkaban trip is to grab some Dementors."

"What do you want Dementors for?!" The Earl perked up, alarmed, connecting the dots to Cohen keeping that black unicorn in the Room of Requirement… "You're not gonna…"

"I wanna keep a few." 

("You're looking for Dementor girlfriends?") 

They blurted it out at the same time.

"Is your brain just hunger and horniness?" Cohen asked calmly.

"If not for a mate, why else would you raise Dementors?!" the Earl shot back. "Can my bird-sized happiness feed you *and* them? Don't make me bolt right now—once I join the Owl Moon Landing Project, you'll never catch me!"

"Not just a couple—I'm thinking a few more," Cohen said, wagging a finger. "If they'll chat with me nicely."

"Ha, real friendly, I bet. Since you're a Dementor runt, they'll probably toss you the happiest scrap left in Azkaban so you don't starve. Every species looks after its young," the Earl said in a flat, dry tone.

"That'd make things easier," Cohen nodded, agreeing with the prediction.

"Hold up—I'm not endorsing your Dementor pet project. They'll murder me, and you'll lose some pretty key stuff—like my loyalty, friendship, and whatever other bond crap," the Earl warned.

"I wasn't asking for your approval," Cohen said bluntly. "You can't stop me anyway—so where's Azkaban?"

"If Dumbledore catches you raising Dementors in school, you're screwed," the Earl tried again.

"I don't have to keep them—but I've gotta check out Azkaban. So where is it?"

"I'm not flying to that hellhole—"

"So where's Azkaban?"

Cohen pressed, then added after a beat, "Just tell me the location. I'll go myself."

"Guess you really wanna go home," the Earl sighed, giving in to Cohen's stubbornness. "Fine… Azkaban's off northwest Britain, on a little island in the North Sea. But I can't pinpoint it—it's an unplottable magical zone."

"No exact address?" Cohen frowned.

"They use Portkeys to ship prisoners there. I've seen it from a distance," the Earl said. "If you're hunting it down, you'll be drifting at sea for ages. My advice—"

"Just drift a bit longer, and I'll find it," Cohen shrugged. As long as he knew the general waters, he wasn't too fussed.

But that meant vanishing from home or school for days. No chance this term—maybe summer, with some excuse to convince Rose and Edward to let him loose.

And to avoid getting stuck out there, he'd need to learn Apparition—otherwise, the round trip would eat up even more time.

Lots to tackle slowly: raising Dementors, the long-term Ministry takeover, fixing his shattered soul, and the short-term goal of snagging the Philosopher's Stone.

Quirrell would get the intel tonight, and Cohen could check out Hagrid's hatched dragon later—wonder how strong a fire dragon's soul was?

(End of Chapter)