After leaving Hogwarts Pokémon Academy, Draco hid away The Black Book, telling no one about it.
It was obvious—this book recorded the existence of countless Legendary Pokémon, each one priceless beyond measure! Draco longed for such Pokémon himself, but he wasn't ready to die young. For now, his goal was simple: he hoped Tom Riddle would give him more Pokémon so that he could become the strongest trainer in the entire school.
But Riddle didn't have any other Pokémon to give. His only one, a Seviper, had been left to him by Voldemort.
So all he could do now was trick and ambush that naive boy, Malfoy.
Although Dumbledore wanted him to stir up trouble within the Pokémon Academy, Riddle had no intention of following his orders.
He was, after all, a wizard first and foremost. There was no need to rely on something he wasn't skilled at. Before, Dumbledore had trapped him in the cave, leaving him helpless. But now that he was free, wasn't everything back under his control?
Pokémon might be powerful, but wasn't his basilisk—whose very gaze killed—a greater force?
Such an instant-death magic must be on par with the move Sheer Cold if cast upon a Pokémon, right?
With power like that, Riddle didn't need to rely on Pokémon—at least not yet. Of course, it wasn't that he despised them. He understood very well that Pokémon were not mere magical beasts or inferior subspecies of humans; their power was both vast and mysterious. If the opportunity arose, he would absolutely study their secrets in depth.
But for now, his priority was resurrection.
His true body had become a failure. He no longer pinned his hopes on it. If that body was useless, then from now on—I will be the true one!
Riddle's eyes gleamed darkly.
As for Dumbledore, despite their time together, Riddle had never seen him as a friend—only as a collaborator who might betray him at any moment. He was certain that if Dumbledore ever found it necessary, the man would eliminate him without hesitation to gain the trust of his counterpart in the wizarding world.
Meanwhile, Charles and Dumbledore appeared in the cave where the diary had once been hidden.
With a wave of Charles's hand, the murals on the stone wall vanished.
"These Legendary Pokémon… are they real?" Dumbledore asked, snapping out of his trance as Charles interrupted his quiet awe.
"You're asking about Ho-Oh, aren't you?" Charles replied, instantly reading his thoughts. "According to legend, Entei, Raikou, and Suicune weren't always what they are now. It's said that long ago, during a fire at the Burned Tower, three unknown Pokémon perished. Later, Ho-Oh resurrected them, and they became its messengers—watchers of humankind."
"Resurrection!"
The word stabbed deep into Dumbledore's heart.
"No spell can bring back the dead," he murmured, tears glimmering in his eyes. "But if Pokémon truly possess such power… I would devote my entire life to seeking it. Of course," he added with a sad smile, "I doubt my character is worthy of Ho-Oh's blessing."
Charles said nothing.
Few were worthy of Ho-Oh's recognition. He certainly wasn't. Without his system's power and the Rainbow Feather, his own darkness would likely corrupt the sacred relic and summon something like Marshadow instead.
But if anyone could earn Ho-Oh's approval… Charles thought that perhaps Harry Potter might.
In truth, Harry and Ash shared similar spirits—pure, impulsive, yet courageous and unwaveringly just.
"But I must warn you," Charles said quietly, "even if you obtain Ho-Oh's power… Ariana has been gone too long. I'm not sure even divine flames can undo that."
"There's truly no other way?" Dumbledore asked weakly.
"There is…" Charles paused. "Time."
"Time is always such a peculiar thing."
They fell silent for a while before Dumbledore shifted the topic.
He didn't ask how to obtain the power of a Legendary Pokémon, nor how to find them. Instead, he sank into memories of grief and regret.
After some time, Charles broke the silence.
"Do you think he'll follow your plan?"
"You mean Tom?" Dumbledore asked, smiling faintly. "Of course. My plans are never fixed."
He wiped away his tears and smiled warmly again. "We just need to make sure no student's life is endangered. That alone will be enough."
He deliberately emphasized "life-threatening."
"The rest," he added, "is up to Harry."
"And don't forget Neville Longbottom."
About a week later, Gilderoy Lockhart returned to the school.
Soon, the young wizards discovered that not only were there now many new instructors in Care of Magical Creatures, but even the Defense Against the Dark Arts class had gained a teaching assistant.
And to everyone's surprise—this assistant actually seemed competent!
"Thank you, Lockhart. The students all say your lessons were quite good, though your style is a bit… dark," said the weary-looking but cheerful Remus Lupin after returning from leave.
"I believe that to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts properly, one must immerse the students in the atmosphere of darkness itself," Lockhart declared earnestly. "Most importantly, Remus, you can't treat them as mere children. To prepare them for danger, you must treat them as people already in danger. Only then will our lessons have true effect."
"Quite reasonable," Lupin admitted with a nod.
His own teaching style, much like his personality, was gentle. While this approach made him beloved, it might also lead students to underestimate the true horrors of dark magic and dark creatures.
Reality, however, was far crueler.
"I've enjoyed our collaboration," Lupin continued. "And I must apologize—I had heard some… unsavory rumors about you." Lupin, being a few years older, knew of Lockhart's reputation and had assumed he was a fraud.
"Everyone changes. I was indeed rather foolish back then," Lockhart said with a playful wink. "Anyway, I plan to visit Professor Gold now. You know I came here mainly for those marvelous Pokémon!"
With that, he waved and left.
Meanwhile, the students were still talking about today's Defense class.
"Sirius was supposed to substitute today, but Dumbledore changed his mind at the last minute," Harry said, a bit disappointed.
"But you have to admit, Professor Lockhart did a great job," Hermione said, looking exasperated at herself. "How did I not know more about him before? And he's written so many books!"
"Thankfully he didn't make us buy them for class," Ron sighed in relief. "They cost a fortune! Honestly, I used to think he was all talk—you know, Mum adores him. She made us use his pest-control methods for the garden gnomes over the summer, but our own worked better!"
"Everyone has their weak points," Hermione said. "But today's class was proof enough he's not a fraud. I even heard he's a member of the Dark Arts Defense Association!"
Even Ron had to agree."Still, he's way too full of himself."
"But why did Professor Lupin take leave?" Hermione asked.
"Uh…" Harry mumbled. "Maybe he's sick."
"In any case, I can't wait for this weekend," Ron said eagerly. "Professor said we get 10 Pokémon Points for each Master-level lesson completed—20 per week! And we can battle on weekends to wager points. I'll win a few hundred and trade them for Poké Balls!"
He was practically glowing with excitement.
"If you want points faster, you could always answer more questions or top the exams," Hermione reminded them.Neither boy looked remotely interested.
"Battles are way more fun! We're strong—we'll crush Malfoy and Goyle and take all their points!" Ron declared.
Harry grinned.As long as Malfoy suffered, he was happy.
"Excuse me, you two might be forgetting that Malfoy can refuse a challenge," Hermione warned. "This system isn't for bullying—it's to encourage healthy competition."
"We are competing, Hermione!" Harry insisted.
Meanwhile, Lockhart was knocking on Charles Gold's office door.
"Good afternoon, Professor Gold," he said, dressed like a walking peacock, flashing the same dazzling smile seen on every magazine cover. "Forgive the sudden visit."
"What is it, Mr. Lockhart?" Charles asked, somewhat irritated. He hadn't seen the man for days and had hoped for peace and quiet—but apparently, not for long.
This time, however, Lockhart seemed to sense his unwelcome presence and behaved more cautiously.
"Oh, nothing serious. I simply wished to witness firsthand the Pokémon said to have defeated the Dark Lord," he said. "Many students stroll by the Black Lake with their partners, but surely none of those could have bested him, right?"
"Is that so?" Charles narrowed his eyes. Something felt off.
Lockhart might still look as flamboyant as ever, but his demeanor was entirely different.
The old Lockhart had been all show—a flashy fraud anyone could see through. But this Lockhart… carried an unsettling weight, a subtle sharpness that matched the hero he pretended to be in his books.
Charles suddenly smiled.
"So, you're interested in the Dark Lord?"
"Not particularly," Lockhart replied smoothly. "Only in your Pokémon. They're quite famous now, you know."
"Indeed. Though I don't keep them all with me," Charles said. His dislike for the man faded slightly—replaced by curiosity. Who was this really?
A Death Eater?Impossible—they'd all been destroyed.
Or… an agent from the Magical Congress of the United States?
He couldn't tell. Many still coveted Pokémon—scheming to claim them. Although Charles had defeated Voldemort, the Dark Lord's fear hadn't transferred to him. Just as no one had ever feared Dumbledore despite his victories over Voldemort, people saw Charles as gentle—too gentle.
But Charles knew: honest men are the easiest to bully.
"That's unfortunate," Lockhart said with a feigned sigh.
Charles, instead of dismissing him, smiled faintly."In that case, how about I show you the Reserve instead? Several schools have contacted me already—seven, to be exact—hoping to introduce Pokémon training into their own curricula. The Reserve provides Pokémon for qualified young wizards from all of them."
"Seven schools?" Lockhart repeated in astonishment.
He had never seen so much inter-school collaboration before.Back in his day, Voldemort's reign had left Britain isolated from the rest of the wizarding world.
"This must feel like vindication for you, after what the International Confederation of Wizards did last year," Lockhart said, his tone almost gleeful. "Those bureaucratic fools must be seething!"
'So he's not with MACUSA or the Confederation…' Charles noted, watching his reaction.
Lockhart went on, voice filled with disdain. "I've always despised them. The Statute of Secrecy? Ridiculous! They accused you under that excuse? Please. Wizards have no obligation to hide or protect Muggles!"
The sheer venom in his tone made Charles think of another name and movement entirely—
Not Voldemort, but another once hailed as the Dark Lord—Gellert Grindelwald, and his followers, the Acolytes.
For a moment, Charles felt the floor beneath him grow hot…as if blue fire was beginning to burn.
(End of Chapter)