Although Giovanni had captured his own Pokémon and had Charles trade his Vespiquen for a Beedrill (which Beedrill was quite happy about—Dumbledore too, upon hearing that Vespiquen produced delicious honey, readily agreed), training would still take at least two and a half months.
During this time, Charles first had Voldemort make appearances abroad to reassert his terrifying reputation, putting pressure on the International Confederation of Wizards and the Magical Congress of the United States of America.
In truth, his strikes mainly targeted the American wizarding world. Now MACUSA was desperately seeking assistance—but no other magical authority wanted to draw fire upon itself. The current president had even turned to Cornelius Fudge for help, and Ilvermorny had gone so far as to send a formal letter, hoping to introduce Pokémon Master classes at their school.
Charles wasn't sure how Fudge was handling things, but at least the Aurors hadn't come asking him to deploy Pokémon. As for Ilvermorny's letter... unfortunately, the five seventh-years who had graduated from Hogwarts and joined the Pokémon Club had already found jobs.
Aside from Barnard, who joined the Auror ranks, the others had weighed the pros and cons and accepted teaching positions at other schools.
Ilvermorny wanted to bring in Pokémon Master courses, but could only recruit seventh-year graduates who didn't already have Pokémon. Even then, such candidates were hard to find—especially since Charles himself was running two departments at the Ministry.
He treated his subordinates generously: any witch or wizard who joined the Pokémon Protection and Management Office or the Pokémon Sports Office could immediately receive a Pokémon. True, they were common species—but still far ahead of everyone else.
Even the Aurors—aside from the freshly graduated Barnard—didn't have a single Pokémon of their own.
Not one.
And so, August passed quickly.
A few days before term began, Charles brought his newly written curriculum to Dumbledore for printing.
"By the way, Charles," Dumbledore said as he nibbled on the pastries Charles had brought, shamelessly adding to his workload. "Starting this term, it would be best to add one extra class for the Pokémon Master course every other week."
Charles blinked. "Excuse me… what?"
"This really isn't necessary, is it?"
He immediately wanted to refuse.
He was following the physical education model—why should he have to work overtime?
"After a full year of trials," Dumbledore said serenely, "it's clear this subject has enormous potential. I believe its future goes beyond anything we imagined. In fact, you know that over the summer, Snape attended a meeting of the Extraordinary Potion-Makers' Association. He presented several new Pokémon-based potions—especially an immunity potion that can prevent lycanthropy and other toxins. The Ministry is preparing to award him a Second-Class Order of Merlin."
Charles sighed as Dumbledore continued, "Because of this, many potion masters have become fascinated with Pokémon. Even some of my old colleagues have asked me to introduce them to you. Haven't you been receiving letters from them lately? I hear the owls in the Owlery are getting rather thin."
"I have," Charles admitted, shaking his head helplessly. "But those people… they've been potion masters for so long they've forgotten who they are. It's one thing to request magical ingredients—but asking me to send Pokémon for experimentation? They're insane!"
He huffed. "Dumbledore, if I weren't still pretending to be a decent man, I'd have already raised my wand and let them 'eat melons!'"
The kind of "experiments" those potion masters conducted were nothing like the humane studies in Charles's reserve laboratory. Wizards' experiments tended to be brutal—dissection was the mildest of methods. Many tried to fuse Pokémon bloodlines or even mix them with magical creature DNA. The results were invariably abominations nature itself rejected.
"Potion-makers do tend to have… eccentricities," Dumbledore admitted with a weary sigh. "And their attitude toward non-human beings leaves much to be desired."
"Exactly. So I'll stick with Snape—our collaboration is going fine. I don't need to get involved with the rest. But if your 'old colleague' insists on meeting, I can humor him." Charles leaned back.
Naturally, the "old colleague" in question was none other than Horace Slughorn—Snape's former teacher.
The same man who, in the original timeline, had revealed to Voldemort the secret of Horcruxes.
It was his teaching that convinced Voldemort that creating multiple Horcruxes was possible.
"Adding lessons, huh? You've really outdone yourself, Dumbledore," Charles said, shaking his head with a sigh. Then a thought occurred to him. "By the way, you wouldn't mind if I found a few teaching assistants, would you?"
"Not at all," Dumbledore replied readily—assuming Charles meant students. In truth, Charles was planning to create a few Pokémon professors instead.
He'd still be doing the teaching himself, but it gave Hogwarts an unmistakable "Pokémon-world" flavor.
So it's decided—Professor Kukui, you're up!
"Oh, by the way," Dumbledore added, "you once said you'd help me lift the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Are you ever going to do that?"
"That? Actually, the curse has already been lifted," Dumbledore said with a satisfied smile. "It was troublesome at first—but once you handed Tom over to me, everything became simple."
"The curse is gone now. Lupin will take the post this year," Dumbledore added cheerfully. "Originally, if the curse couldn't be lifted, I'd planned to hire another powerful wizard instead. Perhaps you've heard of Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"I've heard of him," Charles replied drily. "But as for 'powerful'... I'll have to disagree."
He had little interest in Lockhart and was preparing to leave when Dumbledore stopped him—holding up a familiar diary.
Tom Riddle's diary.
"I've been thinking about how to deal with this," Dumbledore said solemnly. "What do you think? Should we destroy it now—or use it to test Harry Potter? He'll have to face Voldemort someday. I must ensure he has enough courage."
"Hm…"
Charles studied the diary he'd once handed over. After a moment's thought, an idea began forming.
"But before I explain," he said slowly, "how far have you gotten with Tom?"
"So far, he hasn't realized anything," Dumbledore replied. "But he's tried to drain my life force, so we've barely spoken lately."
Charles suspected that Dumbledore had simply lost interest in the diary after receiving Voldemort's real body from him.
Like a child who, upon getting a new toy, instantly forgets the old one.
You old fox, Charles thought, you're as fickle as they come.
"In that case," Charles said, "why not let Harry experience a Horcrux dungeon? As it happens, I've got just the world for it!"
"You mean… build a Pokémon world?" Dumbledore asked in astonishment.
Even wielding the Elder Wand, he couldn't imagine such a feat. The scale of a world was beyond any wizard's reach. Even someone as powerful as Grindelwald—with a spell like Protego Diabolica—could at best scorch a city.
Destroy Paris? Hardly. Maybe the buildings above ground.
"We don't need to create an entire world," Charles corrected him, amused. "Just a Hogwarts. Tom's soul fragment can't leave the school anyway—he'd never know the difference."
And if he did escape? Well, Charles's Alola was already a separate, ruined world—perfect for experiments.
"How would you feel," Charles asked with a sly grin, "about giving the students a change of scenery this term?"
"Not at all!" Dumbledore exclaimed, leaping to his feet. Truth be told, he was already eager.
"The reserve's empty now anyway—let's go."
Charles had no intention of letting anyone else know about the Ultra Space project, but since he'd opened it up, much of the reserve was now free.
In less than a month, the Alola environment had transformed. It still wasn't quite livable—but breathable, at least. The conditions were comparable to Britain's worst times. This was thanks to Charles frequently visiting and purifying the area with spells.
Magic, he had to admit, was far faster than relying on Pokémon alone.
If he'd left it to Grimer and Koffing, it would've taken years to reach this point.
Now, parts of their colonies had already evolved into regional variants. Pollution had lessened drastically, and while the air wasn't exactly pleasant, most Pokémon could adapt without trouble.
Charles brought over the stronger Pokémon from his first group to settle in Alola, then established "Aether Paradise" to breed younger or rarer Pokémon.
The reserve no longer held any Starters or slow-growing rare species—but new ones had multiplied rapidly, keeping the ecosystem balanced.
"Alright," Charles said as they arrived, "let's build a Hogwarts Castle. Try not to leave too many traces of magic, though."
"That won't be easy," Dumbledore admitted. "No one knows how much of the castle Tom actually explored."
"True," Charles said, twirling his wand idly. "But we don't need to make it identical. Let's add some personal flair, shall we? For example, we can replace the boar statues with Emboar or Grumpig. And the eagle carving by the headmaster's office lift? Make it an Articuno."
"Sorry—you're naming creatures I've never even seen!" Dumbledore protested helplessly.
"No worries," Charles said. "Just follow my lead. We can remove most magical motifs. The Owlery tower can be repurposed for Hoothoot, and as for the ghosts—Ghost-type Pokémon can handle that."
Popular species like Eevee or Growlithe would be kept scarce.
"The Quidditch Pitch becomes a Pokémon Battle Arena," Charles went on. "As for the giant squid in the Black Lake—we'll use Gyarados instead. I wanted to use Samurott, but it's still locked. We'll add some Magikarp and Carvanha too."
He reshaped the reserve's terrain, pulling lakes and forests together to form the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest.
"And the Chamber of Secrets?" Dumbledore asked. "Wouldn't an Arbok be… underwhelming?"
After all, the original chamber had housed the mighty basilisk—a serpent king that had lived for centuries. A mere Arbok or Seviper didn't seem worthy.
"Don't worry," Charles said with a smirk. "I can make it bigger."
He'd make sure to prepare a suitably massive serpent Pokémon for Tom. After all—it was Voldemort.
He had to maintain appearances.
"And the real basilisk?" Dumbledore pressed.
Charles gave him a puzzled look. "You really aren't using your brain much these days."
Dumbledore fell silent at once.
Truth be told, Charles had already solved his greatest problem for him. The old man had grown used to lazy days—tea, pastries, and comfort. Especially now that Vespiquen's honey made everything even sweeter.
Cockroach clusters? Candied pineapples?
Unfamiliar nonsense!
What flavor of cake should I have next…? Dumbledore's thoughts were alarmingly unfocused.
Watching him, Charles began to worry. Has he actually gone senile?
"As for the real basilisk," Charles said, smiling faintly, "that'll depend on who remembers it first. But honestly, as long as no one opens the Chamber, it poses no threat. It's lived for centuries—it'd be a shame to just kill it off, wouldn't it?"
"I don't think it's a shame at all," Dumbledore said firmly. "The basilisk is born of dark magic—its very existence is evil."
To breed one required the egg of a seven-year-old rooster laid under the Dog Star, hatched by a toad—all impossible without deliberate wizard interference.
The fewer of those creatures, the better.
"All life is sacred," Charles said with mock solemnity. "Except the basilisk."
"Well then," he added with a grin, "let's make a wager. Will your Chosen One find and slay it first—or will my Gryffindor Swordmaster get there before him?"
(End of Chapter)