"Don't tell me that dragon's actually…" Edward said, his voice tinged with horror.
"Nah, it's not that," Cohen reassured him.
"Oh, good…" Edward let out a relieved breath. "It licked me once—"
"It's the unicorn," Cohen said.
"What?!" Edward's voice shot up, spiraling out of control.
"It came to me on its own," Cohen said with a shrug. "Keeps calling me its kid—'child this, child that.' Hard to say no to that. Plus, it took me to see the unicorn herd at Hogwarts. They were all super nice to me—"
"But it's a *horse*! Wait—it calls you its kid? I've never heard it talk—hold on, that's not even the point…" Edward stammered, floored. "Are the unicorns blind? You're human! Even if… even if…"
"Blood thing. Unicorns trust lineage," Cohen sighed. "It's a loner, kicked out of the group, and I felt bad for it. But if you're not cool with it, I can—"
"No, no, I'm not *that* against it…" Edward cut in quickly. "I mean… blood-wise… it makes sense…"
It took Edward a few minutes to wrap his head around it. The ethics here were a little messy—
He was Cohen's dad, Rose was Cohen's mom. If this unicorn joined the family as "Cohen's mom" too, wouldn't that make him… the unicorn's husband?
Ha! Husband to a unicorn. Ridiculous. The world had lost it.
"You good with it?" Cohen asked, tilting his head.
"Pretty much. It's not like I've got to sleep with a unicorn," Edward said, steadying his breathing. "Just a title in theory. Let it tag along however it wants. Maybe it'll even protect you someday…"
"Knew you'd roll with it," Cohen said, pleased. "Now I can hit you with an even bigger surprise."
"?!"
Edward's scalp tingled.
Cohen had kicked off this whole convo talking about "dad" stuff, and the unicorn was female.
Which meant…
"There's a snake too," Cohen said. "Over three hundred years old. This term, it snuck into my bed and called me 'son.'"
"Male," Cohen added, noting Edward's blank stare.
…
Cohen almost thought he'd petrified Edward. He even double-checked to make sure his "death stare" skill was switched off.
"You alive?" Cohen waved a hand in front of Edward's face.
"Snake?" Edward finally croaked, his reaction lagging hard.
"Snake," Cohen nodded. "It just wants a cushy spot where it doesn't have to hunt—free food, free rent, living the lazy life."
"Why do I feel like you're roasting me?" Edward said suspiciously.
"You two *are* kinda alike," Cohen said bluntly. "Might make it easier to stomach—"
"No way!" Edward shot back, firm. "I'm not sharing my wife with a snake."
"That's your first worry? Not sharing your *son*?" Cohen asked, exasperated. "And why would you even think a snake's after your wife?!"
"It's in the D&D expansion books," Edward said, dead serious.
"It can't turn human, and it's obsessed with female snakes," Cohen said, rubbing his forehead. "I might end up with two—its buddy wants to crash here too."
"Kidding! Foster whatever you want, no matter how they're tied to you," Edward said with theatrical flair. "You think I'd actually get jealous over some animals? Or have an identity crisis over a snake?"
"Doesn't sound like acting," Cohen deadpanned.
When Edward suggested meeting the snake, Cohen shut it down.
"Not yet," he said. "This year, I've got to set up some safety stuff so they don't hurt you guys. Anything with teeth's got a chance of biting."
"But if it's got the brains to call you 'son,' it's not some wild beast, right?" Edward asked. "And didn't you say… it's over three hundred?"
Normal snakes live that long?
"Magic's wild, huh?" Cohen dodged.
If he said it was a Basilisk…
*"Dad Would Cry"*
"Cohen—luggage sorted? Come down for snacks!" Rose called from downstairs.
"Coming!" Cohen yelled back.
"Wait—just those two, right?" Edward asked before they left.
"Can't say for sure," Cohen said honestly. "I don't even know how many magical creatures the Burkes messed with in those experiments…"
"Merlin's *ass*…" Edward muttered.
Downstairs, Rose and Martha had stacked the coffee table with towers of treats. The TV blared an old movie—Cohen caught a glimpse of Supergirl. Wizards probably found superhero flicks laughable.
"I used to love TV when I was younger," Martha said nostalgically. "Wizard entertainment's kinda dull. Christmas 1965, me and Charlson watched a *Doctor Who* special. He kept nitpicking the Muggle cops in it—'They're a bunch of idiots,' he'd say."
Martha mimicked a grandpa Cohen never met, cracking Rose up.
The tension between Edward and Martha faded into the background. Family was like that, apparently.
Cohen wedged himself between Martha and Edward, snagging a sugary bun from the table. Rose had dusted it with frosting for him, making the chewy crust even tastier—if only buns were all crust.
Christmas Eve was calm—so calm it felt like a different world. No Basilisk, no Voldemort, no scheming. Just family and company.
The Earl had taken a break from chasing Mundungus to ferry gifts for Cohen.
Cohen sent wool socks to Herbert—and to Dumbledore too, as an apology for that mustard-in-the-candy prank.
He got a haul in return. Harry sent *A Thousand Tricks to Train Your Dragon*—still traumatized from that time Norbert nearly swallowed them, probably.
Ron gave an ancient Chudley Cannons poster—"treasured" mostly for how worn it was. He'd really treasured it.
Hermione sent dental care stuff.
"Hope I never need it," Cohen sighed.
"Be an owl," the Earl teased. "No teeth, no cavities from sugar."
"Owls can't eat sugar," Cohen shot back. "That'd kill half the fun."
Rose gave him a little hourglass thing—except it wasn't sand inside, but tiny, bouncing stars. Magic world quirk, probably.
Edward crafted a sandbox expansion pack—a sealed black box with a note:
[*Stick it in the old sandbox. Surprise inside.*]
Plenty to mess with during downtime.
Herbert's gift caught Cohen off guard: a yellowed photo of a family of five. Herbert and his wife, Belvina, stood in back; a tall boy and a shy girl in front. Belvina cradled a baby—the original "Cohen," most likely.
The back had obvious water stains—Herbert must've looked at it a lot. Now he'd sent it to Cohen.
Guess he figured Cohen being alive trumped any memory.
He couldn't let it go, but Cohen wasn't about to shatter his illusions.
With the old Cohen's memories, keeping up these family ties was the best outcome.
Martha's crystal ball, Hagrid's flute, Mrs. Weasley's sweater, Dumbledore's alchemy book…
Midnight rolled around, and Cohen tallied his gifts.
Ten total.
Wait—eleven?
"Who sent this?" Cohen asked the Earl, pointing at a black package.
It was a square box, about head-sized.
"What's that?" The Earl looked just as puzzled. "I don't remember delivering that."
"?"
Cohen frowned. The Earl brought all the gifts in, and he'd been in his room the whole time. No way someone snuck this in unnoticed.
Unless it got slipped between two gifts during a double drop.
"Hold up—" the Earl squawked as Cohen reached to open it.
It flapped out to the balcony railing and shut the window for him.
"Real thoughtful," Cohen said dryly.
It was just a gift. If someone meant harm, they wouldn't… pack a Patronus in here, right?
*Rip—*
Cohen tore off the flimsy outer paper. Inside was mostly empty, save for a note:
[*January 31, 1993, Cairngorm Mountains. A cave under Sirius hides what you desperately want to know.*]
"What do I desperately want to know?" Cohen muttered, confused.
"You're asking me?" The Earl tilted its head ninety degrees counterclockwise.
"I don't know either!"
Cohen had no clue what he "desperately" wanted.
"What're you doing?" the Earl asked as Cohen crumpled the note and chucked it in the trash.
"If someone really wants me to go, they'll keep sending these," Cohen said,Squinting, he glanced inside the "empty" box.."Otherwise, it's just a prank. I've got class on January 31st."
Inside the box, a tiny gadget hummed with magic—emotional magic. Someone was listening.
(End of Chapter)