"Utterly absurd!"
"If this so-called Pokémon League is established, what place will the International Confederation of Wizards have left in the world?"
The moment Charles's letter reached the hands of the Confederation, it caused an uproar. Every member present wore expressions of irritation and outrage.
For the relatively small wizarding world, there was no need for multiple international organizations. Once the Pokémon League came into being, the Confederation's authority would inevitably be divided—and over time, it might even fade into irrelevance.
"Does he intend to control the entire world in his hands?" an elderly wizard sighed.
But for now, Giovanni and Team Rocket were the true enemies they needed to confront.
"Let them dream all they want!"
"The man called Giovanni... I fear one day he'll challenge the Statute of Secrecy itself. A foe even more dangerous than Voldemort—what will we do then?"
"Team Rocket—what kind of organization is it really? What's its internal structure, its numbers, its goals? Everything about it is a mystery!"
"Team Rocket currently has only me—Giovanni."
In a hidden location, Giovanni—no, Charles—was meeting with several wizards who had shown interest in joining Team Rocket. Dressed sharply in a black suit, he didn't need to be handsome; the sheer authority radiating from him as he sat in that high-backed chair was enough to silence everyone in the room.
Of course, part of that silence also came from shock and disappointment—the situation wasn't quite what they'd imagined.
"Y-you mean... it's only you?"
The gathered wizards were hardly minor dark wizards. They'd come partly because they recognized Giovanni's ambition, and partly for their own reasons—to obtain Pokémon.
"I thought it would be a massive organization... but it's just one man," one younger wizard scoffed.
Charles didn't react with anger. Instead, he said calmly, "The Death Eaters, Grindelwald's followers, even your Ministry of Magic—all began as mere sparks before they grew into blazing fires. In another world, my Team Rocket spanned entire regions, but it too started from nothing. Now, you have the chance to be the very first to join. When I rule the world, your status will rise with mine."
He smiled faintly. "Isn't that what all of you—pure-bloods born into privilege but destined never to inherit your family names—truly desire?"
That last sentence struck a nerve. The young wizard who'd been about to leave stopped in his tracks.
When building the first branch of Team Rocket, Charles had deliberately targeted those with both ambition and resources—young heirs from old families who had money, influence, and free time. They were perfect candidates. Many of them also shared a common frustration: in magical families with multiple children, only one could inherit the family estate and legacy.
The Weasleys were rare with seven children, but families like the Blacks with four siblings were far more common. Outside of Britain, the wizarding world remained mostly peaceful—"accidental" sibling deaths were uncommon. Yet with so many heirs and only one successor, resentment was inevitable.
To those left behind, joining Team Rocket was an opportunity—a chance to make their own names.
After all, these sons and daughters of noble houses didn't fear notoriety. They wanted recognition. They wanted respect.
"You really think you can do it?" For the first time in a long while, Shafiq felt his blood stirring, his heart pounding with vitality.
Charles didn't offer empty promises. Instead, he demonstrated his power. "Even after every Death Eater was wiped out, Voldemort's name still struck fear across the world. Why?"
"Because he was powerful," someone murmured.
"Exactly. And I am stronger than he ever was," Charles declared. Not one of them doubted him—after all, Voldemort had died by his hand.
"And now, with your help," he said, glancing appreciatively around the room, "a powerful leader, capable officers, and unity—how could we possibly fail?"
"When Charles Gold joined forces with the British Ministry of Magic, he gained the power to defy the International Confederation of Wizards. Combine your strength, and you could form another Ministry altogether. And once the time is right, when we wield the power of the Legendary Pokémon—who could ever stand against us?"
He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back like a true Giovanni. Beside him, his Persian's fierce gaze made the wizards tremble, yet in his presence, the creature seemed as tame as a housecat.
"…"
"I'll join!"
The first to speak was an older, thin, rat-faced wizard. Charles recognized him immediately—a potion-maker, much like Snape, though not nearly as skilled. His motive was transparent: he wanted Pokémon materials to brew new potions and make a name for himself in the Alchemist's Guild.
There were plenty like him. Charles had received letters from countless potion masters, but he hadn't replied to a single one. He hadn't expected one of them to approach him this way.
Still, it was a start—a good example for the others.
Charles clapped his hands, and the dark room suddenly lit up as if activated by a machine. A small pedestal rose from the floor, carrying a folded Team Rocket uniform and a capsule machine.
"What Pokémon you receive will depend on your luck."
The wizard eagerly rubbed his grimy hands together and turned the crank. A moment later, a small Poké Ball dropped out.
"Koffing?" he read aloud, pulling off the attached note.
With a press of the button, a purple creature emerged—its body swollen with gas blisters, two downward fangs protruding from its mouth, and a skull-and-crossbones marking on its belly.
"A Poison-type Koffing," Charles said calmly as he approached. "Its toxins are no joke. But remember—Pokémon start weak. If you want it to grow strong, you'll need to train it yourself. Use it for potion experiments if you must, but getting another Pokémon won't be so easy."
That warning made the man rethink dissecting it for ingredients.
"One more thing," Charles continued. "Pokémon are far more dangerous than magical creatures. Even as their trainers, if you attack them, I won't be responsible for what happens. Now then—what about the rest of you?"
He swept his gaze across the room. "Will you join and rise with us—or walk away and stay insignificant forever?"
His words, backed by the first volunteer's example, broke the remaining hesitation. Each wizard who joined received a starter Pokémon—standard for a villainous organization, of course.
A few still left, but not many.
The pure-blood youth who had wavered earlier turned out to be lucky, receiving a Zubat.
Zubat wasn't impressive at first glance, but its final evolution, Crobat, was both powerful and stylish—if he could make it evolve, that is.
Among them, one stood out in particular—a red-haired woman who had received an Ekans. It wasn't her hair that made her memorable, but the cold ruthlessness in her eyes.
"Lord Giovanni," she asked, slicing a finger across her neck with her wand, "should we take care of the ones who left?"
Her cruelty startled everyone. They instinctively stepped back, eyes darting to Charles to see how he'd respond. Were they one misstep away from death?
"Why kill them?" Charles asked mildly. "Athena, you misunderstand. Team Rocket may be a villainous group, but we're not terrorists. Killing isn't our goal—ruling is. Violence is a tool, not a way of life."
That revelation came as a surprise—but also a relief, especially to the heirs. None of them wanted to live as hunted criminals.
However…
"Lord Giovanni, my name isn't Athena," the red-haired witch said awkwardly.
"That's your code name," Charles replied. "We're still underground. Using real names would only bring trouble. Every member needs an alias. Yours is Athena."
He proceeded to assign code names inspired by Team Rocket's Four Executives. The hesitant young man became Proton, the Koffing alchemist was Petrel, and the strongest among them received the title Archer.
"For now, our mission is quiet expansion," Charles instructed. "Grow the organization. Plant members inside every Ministry of Magic. Only then can our influence spread."
That wasn't just for Team Rocket's growth—it was also to minimize any future interference with his plans.
Of course, that was easier said than done.
"I can handle that," Proton said confidently. "I may not inherit my family's name, but I can still secure a position within the French Ministry."
"Excellent," Charles nodded, handing out several small devices. "These are for communication."
The wizards accepted them hesitantly, exchanging uncertain looks.
Finally, Athena spoke up. "Lord Giovanni, these are electronic devices, aren't they? In any wizarding area, they'll break down quickly. The magical field disrupts their circuits."
"Not these," Charles said, smiling faintly. "Their hardware is powered by Rotom, and the software is maintained by Porygon-Z. They won't be affected."
He'd tested this long ago at Hogwarts. The new Rotom phones worked perfectly even within the castle, and with Porygon-Z ensuring cybersecurity, he could even monitor potential traitors.
"Understood."
"Good," he said. "Now, I'll be returning to the other world. I expect good news from all of you soon."
Opening an Ultra Wormhole, Charles vanished—not toward Alola, but back to Hogwarts.
[Congratulations! You have successfully established the villain organization: Team Rocket.]Reward: Mewtwo Research Data, Mew's Eyelash, and the Earth Plate.
The reason Charles returned so quickly was simple—he wanted his reward.
Mewtwo's research data and Mew's eyelash! His eyes burned with excitement. This was the closest he'd ever been to a Legendary Pokémon. With those materials, Mewtwo was within reach.
The only problem… he wasn't exactly eager to face another rebellion. If history repeated itself, he'd be the victim this time.
"Still, it'd be a waste not to create one, right?" he muttered, torn. In the end, curiosity won—he began reading the research papers.
Just reading can't possibly cause a rebellion... right?
He was genuinely curious—how had Team Rocket managed to make a clone stronger than the original Mew?
"Extract Mew's DNA, add Psychic-type genes in moderate amounts, and a few Fighting-type genes for stability…"
Charles: ???
"What is this, a recipe?!" he groaned, exasperated. "The words I hate most in the world are 'moderate' and 'a few'! Be specific!"
Even with the data, creating Mewtwo wouldn't be easy. Perhaps, deep down, Mewtwo itself never wanted to be born.
After a moment's thought, Charles decided not to start the experiment. Instead, his gaze fell on the other reward—the Earth Plate.
In the games, it was just a move-boosting item. But here, it represented the entire power of the Ground type. Whoever held it could become immune to all Ground-type attacks.
(End of Chapter)