Ever since his last exchange with the young version of Voldemort, Charles had been meeting with Riddle at irregular intervals.
Sometimes, half a month would pass without him opening the diary again; other times, he would talk with Riddle several days in a row.The unpredictability tormented Riddle—like having a cat clawing restlessly at his heart.
But there was nothing he could do. The one in control now was Charles.
By the time March was nearly over, Charles received his first challenger.
A seventh-year Gryffindor student.
He had already collected six badges—only Charles's Creation Badge and Snape's Honor Badge remained. He had tried challenging Snape before, but Snape, ever unsporting, had taken the field himself in place of his Pokémon.As a result, not a single Gryffindor student had earned the Honor Badge yet.
Ironically, the Magic Badge, which everyone thought would be difficult, turned out to be one of the easiest to obtain—right after the Fear Badge and Loyalty Badge—thanks to Dumbledore's "generosity."
But this wouldn't do. Charles decided he'd have to talk to Snape soon. Otherwise, they might as well rename the Hogwarts Cup to the Slytherin Cup by the end of term.
The match was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, held at the Club Hall and open to all students.A crowd soon gathered, and the hall was as lively as it had been during the first selection tournament.
"Come on! Professor's match is about to start!" Hermione urged, nearly bouncing on her heels. She didn't want to miss a single moment."If we go now, we can grab a spot close to the front!"
"I thought you didn't even like Pokémon battles," Harry said as they hurried along.
Beside him, Ron nodded vigorously, still chewing on a chicken drumstick and mumbling in agreement.
"I just don't like fighting myself," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I don't want to see my Litleo or Chikorita getting hurt."In the Muggle world, there were plenty of people who didn't play sports but loved watching them.
Ron swallowed, his face shiny with grease. "But your Litleo doesn't seem to agree—it loves fighting! It's always battling my Inferno!"
"Litleo does not! It's your Inferno that keeps provoking her!" Hermione huffed in irritation.
Of course, both Harry and Ron knew the truth—Litleo was born to fight.But Hermione was stubborn. She always followed the path she believed was right.
Still, there wasn't time to argue. This was the first time anyone had challenged Professor Charles.They all wanted to observe his team and tactics, to prepare for their own future matches.
The trio squeezed through the crowd, using their smaller size to their advantage.
"Wait for me—!" Neville's voice called out from behind. He caught up, cheeks flushed pink. "I… lost Seamus," he admitted sheepishly.
"Then stick with us," Ron said warmly, slinging an arm around his shoulder—smearing chicken grease on Neville's robe in the process.
"Oh no! How careless of me—sorry, Neville, let me clean that up!" Ron said in exaggerated horror, raising his new wand. "Scourg—"
But another voice cut in faster.
"Scourgify!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron had shown off his new wand more times than she could count.
"Come on, let's go," she said, exasperated.
They had indeed arrived early. When the four reached the Club Hall, only a few students were there, and the match hadn't started yet.
"Neville, how've you been? Still practicing swordsmanship with Professor Charles?" Hermione asked.Unlike Harry and Ron, she wasn't Neville's roommate, so they didn't talk as often.
"Yes," Neville nodded earnestly. He seemed livelier than before; ever since his body had started changing, his magic had grown stronger too.
"I think staying at the Reserve really helps me," he said seriously.
Harry stayed quiet. Truth be told, he felt a little jealous.Charles seemed to pay special attention to Neville—almost like a mentor grooming his protégé.
But honestly, Harry thought, anyone else in Neville's place might've done just as well—or better.
Before long, Seamus and Dean arrived and sat nearby. Seamus had once clashed with Ron and even wanted to challenge him—but that idea had long since died out.After all, Ron's Pokémon team was strong enough to rival the upper years. Beating him would be no small feat.
"The match is starting!" Hermione whispered excitedly.
On the field, Charles was already waiting.
Since there weren't many challengers yet, he hadn't set up multiple stages of testing.
Across from him stood the Gryffindor challenger—Mord.He had two Pokémon: a Krabby and a Flaaffy.
"The rules of this match are simple: two-on-two. Only the challenger may switch Pokémon during battle.If the Gym Leader withdraws their Pokémon, it counts as a forfeit!" Percy, acting as referee, announced sternly.
"Both sides—send out your Pokémon!"
The Gryffindor student took a deep breath, gripping both his Poké Ball and wand tightly."Go—Krabby!"
A flash of red light, and a large crab appeared on the field. It was clearly well-trained—perhaps even close to evolving.
Charles already knew his students' Pokémon lineups, but instead of choosing one with a type advantage, he deliberately picked something that would be at a disadvantage.
"Go—Quilava!"
"Never seen that one before…" Mord muttered, visibly tense.
With its greenish hide when its back flames weren't lit, Quilava almost looked like a Grass- or Normal-type Pokémon.For a moment, Mord wondered if he'd just been baited.
"I can tell you—this one's a Quilava, a pure Fire-type," Charles said kindly, noticing the boy's hesitation."So in terms of typing, you actually have the advantage."
A Gym Leader's duty wasn't to deny challengers their badges, but to help them grow.Today, Charles would show these young wizards how to handle battles even when the odds seemed stacked against them.
Because while the typing might look unfavorable on paper—When it came to a reversal, he intended to win big!
(End of Chapter)