Charles didn't dare to guarantee that defeating Arbok would earn the Pokémon's acknowledgment. Still, if someone truly had that level of strength and could take good care of it, Charles wouldn't mind giving him a freshly hatched Ekans to raise from birth.
Of course, he didn't actually believe that a sixth-year student had what it took to defeat an Arbok.
Among the four Pokémon he had just shown, the strongest was Pidgeot. That Pokémon had been with him for many years, reaching a very high level and possessing immense battle experience. Even several Aurors might not be able to defeat it.
In fact, taking it down wasn't much easier than dealing with a Charizard.
The other three Pokémon, however, were ones Charles had raised over the past month. During that time, he had already trained them to level thirty-something—almost reaching the minimum standard for an Auror-level Pokémon.
Moreover, due to the naturally high Special Defense stats of Pokémon, their innate magical resistance was exceptionally strong. When wizards and Pokémon were of similar levels, wizard spells would often be partially resisted or weakened upon contact.
That meant that neither the Arbok nor the seemingly harmless Ursaring was easy to handle.
Marcus Flint, of course, didn't know any of this. His face was still full of provocation and disdain—he had never liked Charles Gold.
Back when Marcus entered Hogwarts, Charles was already a third-year. He still remembered vividly that upperclassman who had once single-handedly defeated every Slytherin in the dormitory.
Until Charles' expulsion, Marcus had lived under his shadow. The Flint family had even been one of those who conspired to have Charles expelled. And during the recent summer break, the Flints—pure-bloods through and through—had been among those who got a good beating from Charles.
That was why Marcus had been looking for trouble now. But if he'd had even a bit more sense, he'd have known this was far from a wise idea.
"Step forward, Flint," Charles said calmly. Holding his wand lightly in his left hand, he flicked it gracefully. A silent Extension Charm drifted from its tip, expanding through the air without a sound.
With his Technician ability boosting the efficiency of spellcasting, the power loss from silent casting was almost negligible.
In the blink of an eye, the space between the platform and the students expanded. A vast dueling ground—about the size of a Quidditch pitch—appeared before everyone's eyes.
The display of such seamless, silent casting left the sixth-years in awe.
Now this was what professionalism looked like.No wonder this man had managed to single-handedly crush all of Slytherin in his second year.
At this stage, most of them still struggled to cast even Lumos without an incantation. The Extension Charm, a far more advanced spell, was one even many seventh-years couldn't perform aloud, let alone silently.
At that moment, everyone realized: Charles Gold was a true master of Charms.
Marcus, however, wasn't known for being bright. Fearless or foolish—probably both—he swaggered forward to stand opposite the waiting Arbok.
The Arbok before him was level 35, possessing the common but potent Intimidate ability.
Common didn't mean weak—Intimidate was extremely useful in Pokémon battles. It just wasn't particularly effective against wizards.
As soon as Marcus stepped into the arena, Arbok raised its hood high, showing off its menacing pattern as an oppressive aura burst forth.
Marcus froze, his heart seized with sudden fear.
In that moment of hesitation, Arbok coiled tightly, springing forward like a released spring. Its massive jaws gaped open, flashing venomous fangs.
Of course, Charles hadn't ordered it to actually use poison—this time, Arbok was using a Dark-type move: Bite, not even Crunch.
Even so, that lightning-fast strike, flashing purple in the air, scared Marcus out of his wits.
Students of their level—sixth-year wizards—already possessed roughly adult-level magical power and had learned a fair number of spells. But when it came to actual combat experience, they were far below true adults—and incomparable to trained Aurors.
If this were the Pokémon world, they were the kind of trainers who leveled up only by feeding their Pokémon Rare Candies, never training for effort values, and teaching completely random movesets.
Panicking, Marcus didn't think of any proper dueling spells—instead, he reflexively shouted the first hex that came to mind.
Using dark curses in a fight wasn't always a bad idea, and sometimes they could even yield surprising results. Unfortunately, the one Marcus chose was… questionable, to say the least.
"Densaugeo!" ("Grow teeth like a beaver!")
The magic struck Arbok head-on. Its already terrifying fangs immediately grew even longer by a few centimeters. If not for its natural magical resistance, those fangs might've become absurdly long.
In other words, the spell didn't weaken Arbok at all—it made it even deadlier.
The next instant, Arbok lunged, sinking its venomous fangs into Marcus's arm and disarming him physically. With a flick of its tail, it sent his wand flying.
The battle ended so quickly that most students hadn't even processed what happened before Charles had already recalled Arbok into its Poké Ball.
The weakness of wizards was obvious: though physically stronger than ordinary humans, compared to Pokémon or magical creatures, they were fragile indeed.
Marcus wasn't seriously injured—his wounds were nothing compared to a Quidditch accident. After all, Arbok hadn't gone for his throat or vital points, only targeted the arm holding his wand, and hadn't even bitten down with full force. Otherwise, losing an arm wouldn't have been out of the question.
"Episkey." Charles murmured, casting a healing spell that instantly restored the injured arm before handing Marcus back his wand.
Had Arbok injected venom, the wound wouldn't have been so easy to heal. Charles wasn't sure whether Snape's potions could neutralize Arbok's poison, though he suspected it was possible—just troublesome.
Marcus, pale and trembling, still looked haunted by the brush with death.
Charles helped him back to his seat.
"Well then, thank you, Flint, for your… brave attempt. Unfortunately, Arbok did not acknowledge him. Their paths simply weren't meant to cross. Still, I'll award Slytherin three points for courage."
"Now—does anyone else wish to try?"
After witnessing Marcus's instant defeat, no one seemed eager to volunteer.
Truth be told, with their current knowledge and power, they shouldn't have lost that badly. But their lack of real combat experience meant that the moment Arbok attacked, they panicked and forgot every proper spell they knew.
Charles couldn't help but sigh. Hogwarts' education really had declined over the years.
In Dumbledore's day, a fifth-year student could barely get through a single class without having to fight off hundreds of dark wizards!And now? A sixth-year couldn't even cast one decent spell when in danger.
(End of Chapter)