It was the day before Christmas.
Normally, Christmas is all about family reunions—everyone's supposed to be sporting happy grins, right?
"So why do you look like someone died?"
Cohen got picked up by Edward at the station, but even with Christmas right around the corner, Edward seemed kinda down.
"Did Mom beat you up or something?"
"Your mom doesn't beat me up," Edward corrected, then sighed. "It's just… ugh—you'll see when we get home…"
The mystery didn't last long. The second Cohen stepped into Number 5 Privet Drive, he spotted an unfamiliar old lady parked on their couch.
A quick glance at the doorway revealed an beat-up suitcase with a metal tag stitched with silk thread: "Martha Norton." Looked like…
Grandma?!
"Oh, is that little Cohen back?"
The old woman was bundled in a thick brown knit sweater, her face a map of wrinkles.
[*Soul Strength: 37*]
"Go say hi to your grandma, Cohen," Edward said, hanging his coat on the hook by the door. He leaned in close and whispered, "Just don't mention I'm out of a job…"
"???"
Cohen's eyes widened as he gawked at Edward.
"But—what—"
"Little Cohen! Come let Grandma get a good look at you!"
Martha flung her arms wide and charged over with a spryness that didn't match her seventy-or-eighty-something years, scooping Cohen into a bear hug.
He was totally thrown.
Dazed, Cohen got hauled to the living room couch. Martha's scarf practically smothered him—another minute of this, and he'd turn into a Dementor for real.
"Oh, heavens, look at you! What an adorable little angel…" Martha fussed over him, straightening his already-messy clothes with enthusiasm. "I can't believe it, Ed—you and Rose kept me and Charlson from meeting him all this time? Sure, Charlson's a bit set in his ways, but did you really have to cut us off for years? You could've at least written me. I didn't oppose your marriage back then…"
"I *did* write!" Edward said, face in his hands. "Three times a month!"
"You know your dad's got some… mental stuff going on," Martha said, lecturing her son. "Where we live, no Muggle dares come near. The postman always ends up screaming and running from some freaky hallucinations. The Ministry's over there warning us once or twice a week. If your dad didn't have that St. Mungo's certificate, they'd have hauled him off ages ago. You should've used an owl—he likes the papers. But no need to worry about that now. Charlson's finally free of his headaches and those black monsters in the basement…"
"You *had* to have gotten them," Edward said, looking grim. "Right before he died, he said all my letters were full of nonsense. If he hadn't said that stuff about Cohen—I might've at least been nicer to him while he was still around."
"Edward!" Rose growled. "For God's sake, it's Christmas!"
"?"
Cohen sat on the couch, glancing back and forth, trying to piece together what was happening from their faces.
*Who am I? Where am I? What's going on?*
Cohen was utterly lost. Edward and Rose had never once mentioned anything about Edward's grandparents.
Martha's ramble was packed with info. Hopefully, Edward would pull him aside later for a private rundown.
"I'm just sticking to what I said that day," Edward said, unusually defiant against Rose. "Not a single word was wrong."
"And me, Ed? What about me?" Martha asked calmly. "Was I part of that rant you went on? You didn't even glance back at me that day. I was the one who dealt with his cold body—a seventy-six-year-old—"
"Of course not!" Edward cut in fast. "I was just pissed at *him*—Mom, I'm sorry, but it's Christmas, and Cohen just got back…"
"Edward, didn't you say you were gonna show Cohen that new chessboard you got him?" Rose jumped in to defuse things. "He needs to drop off his stuff anyway."
Cohen only had his trunk with the dragon and nightmare inside—not exactly "lots of luggage." And Edward wouldn't buy a "new chessboard"—the wizarding world didn't sell Dungeons & Dragons boards.
But everyone seemed to need a breather, so Martha let it drop.
"See you later, Grandma?"
Cohen gave a polite goodbye before heading out. She'd called him her little angel—he had to act the part, keep the Christmas gloom away.
Martha ruffled his hair fondly, a total 180 from how she'd been with Edward.
Was the grandparent-grandkid bond some universal law?
"Edward's usually pretty chill, but when it comes to Charlson…" Rose started explaining his outburst to Martha.
For Cohen, this was… weirdly domestic.
In his past life *and* this one, he'd never had this. No "grandma" arguing with "dad" in the orphanage. The headmaster there was a stern old guy—strict management meant a dull, rule-filled life.
"She always manages to get under my skin out of nowhere…"
Up in Cohen's room on the second floor, Edward rubbed his temples.
"Your grandma didn't used to be like this…"
"Too much time with Grandpa?" Cohen tossed out casually. "I heard Martha say Grandpa had mental issues—is that some big secret? Or are you gonna fill me in on what went down back then?"
"Not exactly a secret…" Edward plopped heavily onto Cohen's bed. "Your grandpa was Charlson Norton. He—wait, did we even mention Grandma's name?"
"Saw it on her suitcase by the door," Cohen said. "You've gotta pick up some survival skills to make it at Hogwarts. So, what's the deal with you and Grandpa? He didn't want you marrying Mom?"
"That alone wouldn't have ticked me off so bad," Edward said. "Ten years ago, when me and your mom—uh—wanted to adopt you, your grandpa stormed over here, flipped out, and tried to stop it…"
"Maybe he had some weird hang-up about adoption," Edward added quickly before Cohen could jump in. "He said some really messed-up stuff. I was young and hotheaded—couldn't take it, so I went off and got into it with him—"
"Who won? Who won?" Cohen asked, hooked.
"I didn't beat him," Edward admitted. "He used his wand—I swear it wasn't a fair fight—"
"Who fights a wizard with fists?!" Cohen said, facepalming. "But you still adopted me anyway. He didn't keep pushing?"
"Rose stepped in front of you—your mom's a badass. A couple spells, and she shut him down. He stormed off cursing, and we haven't talked since," Edward said.
"When'd he lose it?" Cohen pressed. "I caught something about 'headaches' and 'black monsters in the basement'…"
"Probably around then. Your grandma says he started getting nutty ten years back," Edward replied. "No clue what happened—every night he'd get headaches and swear there was a giant black monster in their basement."
"What if there *was* a giant monster?" Cohen frowned.
"Don't be ridiculous. I grew up there—there's no basement," Edward said, raising an eyebrow. "They had tons of magical creature experts check it out. No basement, no giant black monster hiding in it. If you're curious, I could take you to Grandma's place over the summer, but don't get your hopes up. If there was a monster, Martha would've seen it in ten years. She's not the crazy one."
Cohen wasn't so sure this "giant black monster in the basement" was just Charlson's imagination—especially since his breakdown lined up with the year that lab experiment ended.
Two creatures escaped that lab: the Basilisk, Sissoko, and the other…
"And you know the most ridiculous part?" Edward said, lost in thought. "Every time I sent Martha a letter, he'd send back a pile of insults—like I wasn't even his only son. Even on his deathbed, he didn't have a single nice word for me."
"Maybe that's his way of loving you," Cohen guessed. "Love's tough, right? Writing you a ton of hate mail—he must've loved you to death."
"Ha! Should I start writing you some too?" Edward grumbled.
"Go for it. I'm too chicken to talk smack at school—could use you as my insult dictionary," Cohen nodded.
"Rose would murder me," Edward shot back. "You'd lose your dad."
"Speaking of that… not exactly…" Cohen blinked a few times.
"Wait—I thought—hold up, what do you mean 'not exactly'?"
Edward froze.
What did he mean, *not exactly*?
"This might be a lot for you to take in, but Dumbledore said I should give you a heads-up since I'll be bringing it home eventually…" Cohen said, layering on the buildup. "It might weird you out—like your status getting leveled with another species…"
"'It'?!"
Edward's confusion deepened.
"Remember that experiment?" Cohen said. "The one that made me?"
"Don't—" Edward groaned, like he could guess where this was going and didn't like it.
"Some magical creature wants to join the family," Cohen said.
(End of Chapter)