Seeing Tom's request, Charles smiled faintly and raised his wand.
"Transformatio Subita!"
With a light tap of the wand tip against his wizard robes, the black fabric instantly shifted into a Slytherin uniform trimmed with emerald green.
In an instant, his entire appearance transformed—an elegant, handsome seventh-year student stood where he had been.
Charles had only just turned seventeen himself; some seventh-years were even older than him. He blended in perfectly.
As for which Pokémon to bring into Tom's memory, Charles pondered briefly before deciding on a Slowpoke.
The fact that Tom could turn his memories into a Horcrux-like construct, similar to a Pensieve, proved his remarkable mastery over memory and alchemy. While Charles was confident that Tom wouldn't be able to read his mind, the same couldn't be said for Pokémon.
Slowpoke, however, was the safest choice—it barely thought at all. If it had any talent, it was that its tail apparently tasted quite sweet.
Charles went straight to the riverbank in the reserve, where Slowpoke gathered in droves. He didn't even bother capturing one—he simply picked it up in his arms.
The sluggish creature made no resistance, staring blankly with dull eyes, its massive hippo mouth yawning lazily.
Perhaps it didn't even realize it had just been carried away.
[Are you still there?]
Tom hadn't received a reply for several minutes and was getting impatient. The diary pages filled with hurried handwriting. He could sense that Charles hadn't closed the diary.
[Why are you panicking? Panicking, panicking, that's all you do. I went to fetch a Pokémon, didn't I?]
Charles returned with Slowpoke in his arms. As he did, the diary suddenly began flipping rapidly through its pages—almost the entire book turned over before it snapped back to the beginning.
Apparently, Tom Riddle had no intention of letting him see the more... selective version of his memories.
[Press your eyes to the page.]
A small window-like opening appeared on the diary's surface. Charles held it close to both his and Slowpoke's faces.
The next moment, he felt himself falling forward—like dropping in a freefall elevator—plunging straight into an abyss.
When he regained his senses, he was standing in a gray, foggy space where all color had drained away. Even the normally pink Slowpoke appeared in black and white.
"You're Harry Potter?"
Riddle stepped out from the mist, wearing the same Slytherin uniform as Charles.
In a way, this was their first true meeting.
The young man's face was undeniably handsome—hard to believe this was the same noseless monster he'd one day become.
Voldemort blinked in mild surprise at Charles's uniform. It seemed this "Hogwarts Pokémon School" had kept the same design as the Hogwarts he remembered.
But what really caught his attention was the Pokémon Charles had brought with him.
"So this is... what you call a Pokémon?"
It looked... a bit too dumb, didn't it?
Riddle frowned, scrutinizing the Slowpoke. If it weren't breathing, he might have thought it was dead.
"Slowpoke. A Water and Psychic type," Charles introduced proudly, holding the creature out toward him.
Since both of them were mental projections here, Riddle could indeed touch the Pokémon.
Though even if he did, it wouldn't accomplish much.
Riddle hesitated, then cautiously reached out. Just as his fingers brushed the creature's skin—
SLAP!
Slowpoke suddenly twitched, terror flashing across its face, and whipped its thick tail straight across Riddle's cheek.
Tom: "???"
For a moment, Tom Riddle just froze. Then, as anger started to rise—
Slowpoke's expression went vacant again, its earlier panic forgotten entirely.
Riddle could only glare daggers at Charles, who struggled valiantly not to laugh.
He failed miserably.
"Pfft—"
Old Tom:You've been laughing this whole time!
"Ahem. It probably just got startled by the sensation of entering your memory," Charles explained smoothly. "Slowpoke's reaction time is... well, slow. Sometimes it doesn't even notice when its own tail gets bitten off."
Riddle's eye twitched. But after a long pause, he exhaled and—reluctantly—chose to forgive it.
There wasn't much else he could do.
After all, right now, he was little more than a ghost—like a Ghost-type Pokémon, needing to drain others' life force to affect the real world.
"Fine," he muttered, glaring one last time at the vacant creature. Slowpoke simply blinked at him in confusion.
"So this is a Pokémon... definitely different from magical creatures."
He frowned again. "But are such beings really worth studying?"
Judging by its vacant demeanor, this so-called Pokémon seemed utterly defenseless—a perfect snack for any predator.
"This one is just one of the weakest," Charles said with a grin. "There are countless powerful Pokémon in the world."
As he spoke, his thoughts began to shape the environment—and even Tom's memory space started to change.
The gray, lifeless void blossomed into a landscape of vivid color, as if someone had switched an old black-and-white TV to a high-definition painting.
The ground beneath them turned to sprawling grasslands where herds of Pokémon ran wild—Rapidash, Arcanine, Zebstrika, Pyroar...
The magnificent sight left Tom speechless.
Before he could comment, the scenery shifted again to jagged mountain valleys where dragons spewed torrents of fire skyward, setting the heavens ablaze.
Werewolf-like creatures howled under the moonlight; four-armed titans hauled boulders the size of houses; steel-plated birds soared across stormy skies; shadowy figures prowled through blizzards.
"This... this is Pokémon?"
For once, Tom's eyes widened with genuine awe. His pupils dilated as he took in the breathtaking world before him.
For the first time in his life, he realized how small his previous worldview had been.
Had he really spent all this time obsessing over that tiny island called Britain?
And yet—he was equally certain these creatures had never existed in his original world.
But now... they felt real.
The contradiction left him deeply unsettled.
That was when Charles, pretending to "guess," remarked thoughtfully:
"You really mean to say you've never seen Pokémon before? They've lived alongside humans since ancient times.
How could there be anyone in this world who doesn't know about Pokémon—unless..."
"Unless what?" Tom asked sharply.
Charles grinned.
"Unless you're a transmigrator."
(End of Chapter)