Charles stepped out of the courtroom alongside Fudge and Dumbledore.
The judges of the International Confederation of Wizards followed behind them, their expressions uniformly sour.
In the end, the trial concluded without a verdict.
Charles felt no satisfaction in this temporary victory—if anything, it left the higher-ups fuming, their authority bruised.They could tolerate Dumbledore, even Fudge, defying them to a point. But Charles Gold?No—his name was too new, his fame too small. Even a well-known educator like Madam Maxime had barely heard of him, much less the bureaucrats of the Confederation.
To make matters worse, Fudge's stance was now clear: "If you dare to meddle with Pokémon, then the British wizarding world will withdraw from the Confederation altogether."An unsubtle threat of isolation.
Neither Bones nor Crouch, who had accompanied him, voiced any objection.
Indeed, Charles's "resurrection" of Voldemort had already begun to pay off.
Because of that single move, the entire British wizarding world now found itself lashed to the same ship by a common enemy. Even Scrimgeour—who used to glare daggers at him—was now practically friendly.If not for Mr. Gold, they all knew how many lives would have been lost in the war against Voldemort.
Granted, Voldemort would never have revived so soon without Charles's intervention. But considering that the Dark Lord's return was inevitable, having him under Charles's control, with zero casualties so far, was a far better outcome.
That, precisely, was why Dumbledore allowed Charles so much freedom.Because, quite simply—Charles had earned it.
Just then, voices rose behind them. Moments later, Seraphina Picquery came marching out, her entourage of American congressmen in tow. Her expression was dark with anger—gone was the lofty arrogance she'd displayed earlier.She did not even glance at Charles as she swept past, a defeated general refusing eye contact with the victor.
"Cornelius," Charles asked with mild confusion, "did I ever offend them somehow?"
He honestly couldn't understand why the American Magical Congress was so hostile toward him.He had never even set foot in the United States—most of his time abroad, even after leaving school, had been spent traveling through Europe and Asia.
"It's about the Statute of Secrecy," said Bones, glancing at Dumbledore as she spoke slowly. "Few can bear the thought of the wizarding world being exposed to Muggles.In truth, Grindelwald already cracked that façade fifty years ago. The Statute was never about protecting Muggles—it was to protect wizards.
"Once magic is revealed, war between Muggles and wizards becomes inevitable. Regardless of who wins, the peaceful lives so many wizards crave would be shattered."She paused, then added, "And besides—many wizards are Muggle-born. Who can say where their loyalties would lie?"
"I know that's why the Confederation wants to try me," said Charles. "But compared to other countries, the American Magical Congress seems… a little more—" He trailed off, trying to find the right word.
"Hah! That's what you mean!" Fudge burst out laughing. "Blame Grindelwald's era! Back then, the Americans nearly tore a hole through the Statute of Secrecy. The Confederation threatened to send in a special task force if they didn't fix it fast. I bet she's still bitter about that!"
"I see," Charles nodded thoughtfully.
Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't listen too much to Cornelius's teasing. The Americans do enforce the Statute far more strictly. For years, they even forbade marriage between wizards and No-Majs—that's what they call Muggles."
At that, his eyes softened with nostalgia.
Clearly, he was remembering that brave Muggle—Jacob—who had once stood at the side of a witch he loved.He had not been a wizard, yet he was far braver than many who wielded wands. Braver even, perhaps, than Dumbledore himself.The courage to sacrifice everything for love was not a common gift.
"Well, whatever the case—" Charles exhaled as they stepped out of the Confederation's grand hall and turned toward Fudge.
Fudge blinked, then quickly caught on. "You two go on ahead," he told Crouch and Bones. "I'm sure the Ministry's drowning in work right now. What matters most is how we deal with Voldemort. To hell with the bloody Statute—staying alive comes first."
He wiped sweat from his brow, then joined Charles and Dumbledore.
"Gentlemen," he said, "since we have this rare chance, let's discuss how to handle that madman. He's got a stronger wand now—far more dangerous than before. Otherwise, with your power, Mr. Gold, and your Pokémon army, you could have driven him off already. And if Dumbledore here helps…" He gave a hopeful smile.
Bones and Crouch exchanged glances. Ever since the Dark Lord's resurrection, Fudge's transformation had been remarkable.Who would have thought the man everyone once dismissed as a lucky placeholder Minister could suddenly show such backbone?
Still, it was for the better. The last thing anyone needed in such times was a weak-willed Minister of Magic.
They each pulled out their Portkeys and vanished back to Britain.
"I suggest we talk in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts," said Charles. "It's more secure there."
"In that case," said Dumbledore, "let's use the Floo Network."
"No need. I've got something faster."Before either could object, Charles grabbed their arms.
"I can't handle Appara—" Fudge began, but before the word 'Apparition' was even finished, the scenery had changed.The elderly phoenix lifted its head, blinked once, then closed its eyes again as the newly evolved Flaaffy nibbled lazily on its tail feathers.
"We're… already here?" Fudge gasped. "How did you—? I didn't even feel queasy! This is smoother than Floo travel!"
"Just teleportation," Charles said, amused. "The Xatu I borrowed from you can do it too. Remember, you had it deliver my letters?"
"I—uh—I thought that was Apparition," Fudge said sheepishly.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, frowned with sudden concern. "Oh dear, could you have a look at my Flaaffy? Its wool seems thinner lately. I was hoping to spin more socks from it."
"Flaaffy's wool does tend to get—" Charles turned to look and stopped mid-sentence.The word 'thinner' stuck in his throat.
Because Dumbledore's Flaaffy was now completely bald.A smooth, round, pink sheep—shining under the lamplight like a polished marble.
Beside it, Beedrill looked utterly dead inside, both its stingers impaled with a roll of freshly spun yarn.
Good grief. Three creatures in this office—and not one with a single patch of fur left.
"Dumbledore," Charles sighed, "I know you like wool socks, but did you really have to shave it completely bald?"Fortunately, the Flaaffy didn't seem too bothered. Having long left its flock, it now lived comfortably with Beedrill and the old, molting phoenix.But if it had been back in the reserve, among its Mareep kin—it might've died of shame on the spot.
"Never mind," Charles said dryly. "Next time I'll send you a Dubwool instead. They grow wool faster."
Unlike the Mareep line, Dubwool were practically bred for their high-quality fleece—professional wool producers, as it were.
"That would be wonderful!" Dumbledore beamed. "I could knit Aberforth a sweater!"
"That'll probably get you kicked out of his house," Charles muttered, taking a seat. "Anyway—let's get back to Voldemort. Now that the Confederation's backed off, it's best to make the Dark Lord disappear from the stage for a while. People are getting nervous—I heard some parents are considering pulling their kids from school?"
"Some, yes," said Dumbledore calmly. "But most have been convinced to stay. They believe Hogwarts is the safest place in the world—with its two greatest wizards guarding it."
"So," said Fudge eagerly, "we make him 'die', then?"
If Voldemort fell during Fudge's tenure as Minister, his legacy would be secured—immortalized in history textbooks and global headlines.How could he not be thrilled?A free political victory handed to him on a silver platter.
Even Dumbledore seemed open to the idea.After all, keeping up the act of a fake Voldemort indefinitely was risky. There were still powerful seers in the world—one might eventually uncover the truth.
"Not yet," Charles said, shaking his head.
He wasn't worried about prophecies.Divination was unreliable—what one saw depended on talent and clarity.Most could barely glimpse vague symbols or faint voices. That was why so many so-called "prophets" in history had been little more than showmen spouting riddles that could be twisted to mean anything.
True visionaries like Grindelwald or Nicolas Flamel were exceedingly rare.
And besides, most prophecies stored in the Ministry's Hall of Prophecy—thousands upon thousands of glowing orbs—would never come true.
"I still need this 'Voldemort disguise,'" said Charles. "But the one you have should be destroyed soon. That diary version of Tom Riddle… I think he's far more dangerous than the real Voldemort."
Dumbledore immediately understood what he meant.
Tom Riddle might lack the raw power of his original self, but his cunning far surpassed it.Without years of corruption by dark magic, he remained rational—capable of disguise, manipulation, and strategic deception.
That combination of ambition, intellect, and talent made him the most dangerous kind of enemy.
"What—how many Voldemorts are there?" Fudge stammered.
"Quite a few, actually," Dumbledore admitted. "That's his greatest secret—and the reason I could never kill him during the last war. But don't worry—we have him fully contained now."
"No need to fret," Charles added. "I plan to let Harry handle that one. It'll be a grand adventure… though I might need your memories, Dumbledore, to refine the illusion of a 'real Pokémon world.'"
Clearly, the Headmaster was far too entertained by his idea of toying with young Riddle.
Charles didn't object. If anything went wrong, it wouldn't be his problem.
"So, what's the plan?" Dumbledore asked.
"Simple," said Charles with a smile. "We stage a battle—publicly injure him, let him flee abroad. The world panics for a bit, but no one dares trouble me, and meanwhile, my Pokémon get plenty of publicity."
In truth, he intended to have Voldemort lead a Pokémon-using rebellion.Let him rampage internationally, give those arrogant foreign wizards a firsthand taste of what Pokémon could do.
The best way to make them stop opposing him… was to terrify them.
Look at the British Ministry—it had only taken one solid beating from him and his Pokémon for them to stay obedient ever since.They wouldn't dare make a move now.
And Charles was never afraid of backstabbing opponents.If someone came at him from the shadows, well—then he would simply…Kill. Kill. Kill.
Simple, effective, efficient.
Hadn't the pure-bloods already been nearly wiped out by now?
"Then it's settled," said Fudge, nodding eagerly.
Even if Voldemort wasn't killed outright, driving him off was victory enough.After all, the last wizard to drive off the Dark Lord had been none other than—Dumbledore himself.
"Excellent," he said, rubbing his palms together like a scheming insect. "Time to plan our little performance."
While Fudge pondered how to stage the perfect act, Charles was already plotting something far grander.
If he was going to create a villainous organization, it wouldn't be a small-time one.The greatest villain team in history—the one with the most style and power—could only be Team Rainbow Rocket.
When Giovanni, Maxie, and Cyrus took the stage together, those wizards would finally learn what real power looked like.
And since the Confederation accused him of violating the Statute of Secrecy…
Fine then.
Charles Gold, in the name of upholding your so-called international law, will make your accusations come true.
Not only did he feel it wasn't excessive—he thought himself downright heroic.
(End of Chapter)