The story rewinds to the moment Charlie stood in front of the Mirror of Erised.
In his heart, he desperately wanted to find the Philosopher's Stone, but his rational mind told him plainly: with his current strength, there was no way he could safeguard such a treasure.
He understood the meaning of "a man's wealth is his own ruin by attracting greed."
He didn't even need to look far. The troll incident was proof enough that someone had their eyes on the Stone.
Charlie's only goal was to locate the Philosopher's Stone, earn a nice chunk of Tyrant Points, and then turn it in to Dumbledore afterward.
This way, he could reap the system rewards without inviting trouble.
But by sheer coincidence, while gazing into the mirror, he had fulfilled the exact condition required: to desire the Philosopher's Stone without wanting to use it.
And so, the Philosopher's Stone quietly appeared in his pocket.
Feeling the weight against his robes, Charlie's heart immediately began to race.
He reached inside. The smooth, warm, quartz-like texture confirmed it wasn't his imagination.
He didn't understand the mechanics behind it all.
But on the surface, Charlie remained perfectly composed.
It wasn't that he wanted to hoard it for himself. Rather, the more people who knew, the more dangerous it would be.
Especially with bigmouths like Ron and Harry around, by tomorrow, the whole school would know.
[Detected: His Majesty has stolen a legendary artifact, Philosopher's Stone. Tyrant Points +100]
The system's notification chimed in his mind, and Charlie barely managed to suppress the giddy joy surging inside him.
One hundred Tyrant Points! This was by far the biggest payout he'd earned yet.
In the corner of the room, Dumbledore, still concealed by his invisibility spell, furrowed his brow.
Now what?
For a young wizard, getting their hands on such a legendary artifact was an extremely dangerous thing.
Not just because of outside threats, but also because of the greed within.
If Charlie were to give in to that greed, given his potential, who could say he wouldn't become the next Dark Lord?
Still, the Stone was now in Charlie's possession. The fuse on the bomb named "Greed" had already been lit.
Dumbledore could do nothing now but keep watching this boy more closely.
"Strange... where's the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry frowned at the mirror.
"Don't tell me... there was never a Stone to begin with?" Ron scratched his head.
Hermione combed over every inch of the mirror, hoping to find a hidden mechanism.
"Impossible. All those protective enchantments couldn't have been just for show."
The group scoured the room from top to bottom. They even checked every stone tile on the floor, yet the Stone was nowhere to be found.
"Looks like we came here for nothing." Fred shrugged.
"Well, at least it was exciting." George offered a bit of consolation.
Charlie stood off to the side, quietly listening. But his mind was already working out the next steps.
Now that he had the Philosopher's Stone, the most important thing was getting out safely.
"If there's nothing else, we'd better head back. Any later and we'll be late for class tomorrow," Charlie suggested.
Hermione gave Charlie a strange look. That sentence sounded completely out of character coming from him.
The others glanced at one another and agreed to return the way they came.
Back in the room with Fluffy, the three-headed dog was still snoring thunderously, completely oblivious.
The twins had other plans.
"We're thinking of heading to the kitchens. Maybe snag a midnight snack." Fred winked.
"You coming?" George invited.
Charlie shook his head.
His mind was preoccupied with the Philosopher's Stone. All he wanted now was to return to the dorm and examine the legendary treasure in peace.
"Thanks, but I'm beat. I'll turn in first."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, still mindful of the next day's classes, also chose to return to the dorms.
"Alright, we'll split up here then." Fred waved. "See you tomorrow!"
The three of them quietly slipped out of the fourth floor.
The hallway was silent, save for the soft tapping of their footsteps on the stone floor.
Harry walked in front as they whispered about everything that had happened.
"Could it really be that the Stone isn't there?"
"No way. Hagrid's reaction back then proved it exists."
"Maybe we just couldn't trigger the final mechanism."
Hermione lowered her head, deep in thought.
Just then, familiar footsteps echoed ahead.
Heavy, deliberate steps.
"Filch!" Hermione gasped.
Harry remained calm. He'd been through situations like this plenty of times over the summer.
"Relax. Filch won't see us, we've got the Invisibility Cloak…"
But the very next second, his face went pale.
He frantically patted himself down, empty.
He'd left the cloak behind in the chamber!
Filch's footsteps drew closer, heavier.
Harry's face drained of color. The three of them were in full panic.
There was nowhere to hide. And Filch had already spotted them, hurrying their way with obvious delight.
"We're doomed, we're doomed, we're doomed." Ron's lips were white.
"That old bat looks like a bloody vampire," he added.
Hermione shut her eyes, mentally flipping through every spell she knew.
But she couldn't bring herself to attack a grown wizard. (She still believed Filch was a proper wizard.)
"Who's there?" Filch rasped in his gravelly voice.
They were caught red-handed.
Holding up his lantern, Filch shuffled closer, his murky eyes glinting in the gloom.
Mrs. Norris stalked behind him, her tail raised like a scorpion's stinger.
"Well, well, three little brats," Filch sneered, revealing yellowed teeth.
"Wandering around after hours, sneaking about like rats."
Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Filch wasn't having any of it.
"Come with me. You're going straight to your Head of House."
Professor McGonagall's office was ablaze with firelight.
She stood there in her checkered robe, hair tied up in a net, clearly woken in a rush.
"Explain yourselves, Mr. Potter." Her voice was glacial, and her eyes looked ready to erupt in flames.
"Why were the three of you in the fourth-floor corridor at this hour?"
Harry kept his head low, unable to meet her gaze.
"We… we just wanted to…"
"Wanted to what?" Her tone suddenly sharpened.
"Go on an adventure? Explore forbidden areas? I thought you valued Gryffindor's honor."
Hermione couldn't hold back any longer. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
She had never been scolded like this before, especially not by the teacher she admired most.
"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, voice trembling.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall cut her off.
"I am deeply disappointed in you. As one of our top students, you should be setting an example, not leading rule-breaking escapades."
That line struck Hermione at her most vulnerable.
She bit her lip, and the tears spilled over.
"Gryffindor loses ninety points." McGonagall exhaled sharply.
"Thirty each."
The color drained from their faces.
This would cripple Gryffindor's chances at the House Cup.
"Also, the three of you will serve detention."
By the time they returned to Gryffindor Tower, most of the dorm was already asleep.
The three of them trudged upstairs in silence.
Hermione slipped into her room, still sobbing. The door shut with a hollow thud.
Harry and Ron returned to their beds, both weighed down by guilt and disappointment.
…
Charlie, meanwhile, hadn't returned to the dorms at all.
Deep in the Forbidden Forest, silver moonlight filtered through the leaves in scattered patches.
He'd found a secluded spot and now pulled the warm red stone from his robes.
The legendary Philosopher's Stone lay quietly in his palm.
It was roughly the size of an egg, crimson as blood, and warm to the touch.
Charlie took a long, steadying breath.
He was thrilled. Excited. But not greedy. For someone with a system, the Philosopher's Stone was more of a cherry on top.
To Charlie, the Stone's most useful function was its gold-transmuting ability, perfect for padding his little treasury.
He picked up a few ordinary rocks from the ground and pressed the Stone against one of them, channeling the Stone's magic with a thought.
Instantly, the gray-black surface began to glow with a golden sheen. It grew heavier, and within seconds, it had transformed into a bar of pure gold.
"It actually works…"
Charlie's heart pounded as he eagerly repeated the process.
Before long, a modest pile of glittering gold sat at his feet, gleaming beneath the moonlight.
The brilliant luster was dazzling.
Charlie crouched beside his stash, running his fingers over the cool, solid metal.
This was no illusion. It was real. All of it.
He had never seen so much gold in his life, and now, it all belonged to him.
Of course, there was no way he could carry all this with him, and it was far too conspicuous.
Charlie scanned the surroundings, found a sturdy oak, and dug a pit by its roots. One by one, he buried the gold inside.
After covering the soil, he marked several nearby trees to ensure he could find it again.
"I need a better way to carry stuff… Maybe there's something like a storage ring in the magical world?"
Unbeknownst to him, Dumbledore was still hidden in the shadows, silently watching everything unfold.
For an eleven-year-old child, such excitement in the face of immense wealth was perfectly natural.
Dumbledore didn't mind that Charlie had transmuted gold.
What worried him was whether this wealth might eventually corrupt the boy's heart.
So far, so good.
Charlie had shown no signs of madness or obsession.
At the very least, he was far better than young Tom Riddle had been.
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