Holding a fresh withdrawal of cash from the bank, Charles Gold had already made up his mind about what to do next.
Managing and running a company wasn't exactly his strong suit, so the only option was to find someone else who could. That wasn't a problem—surely in all of Britain, there had to be talented people fit for the job.And if not, well… there was always the rest of the world.
It didn't take Charles much effort to recruit a team. Soon, Arceus Game Company was officially established. The headquarters was conveniently set up in London—close to both Diagon Alley and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Most of the staff were technicians. Since Charles himself could provide the Pokémon artwork, developing the first Pokémon game wasn't all that difficult.
Still, he wasn't so confident as to assume Pokémon would automatically become as famous as in his past life. So, in addition to the game division, he also created an animation department specifically for producing the Pokémon anime.
Perhaps by the time Harry returned home for summer after his first year, he might catch a glimpse of a TV show featuring the very things he'd learned at school—while secretly watching television, of course.
By the time Charles returned to Hogwarts, it was already Sunday evening.
Everything in the nature reserve was as usual. With the area being vast enough, an ecological balance had already begun to form. Unless Charles suddenly introduced tens of thousands of new species at once, nothing much would change.
And that "tens of thousands" wasn't an exaggeration—it would take that many Pokémon to make a noticeable impact. For now, the reserve could easily support far more life; in fact, it was a little too empty.
After all, despite the enormous space, there were barely over a thousand Pokémon living there—and most of those were common ones like Raticate, Tauros, and Caterpie.
Besides the ordinary flora, Charles had also planted various Berry trees. At first, there were only Oran Berry trees, but later he discovered several other kinds of Berry seeds stored inside the system's Breeding House. Naturally, he planted all of them.
In addition, he'd transplanted some magical plants as well. Whether these magical species would react uniquely when placed in the same ecosystem as Pokémon was one of his ongoing research topics.
Would Pokémon droppings, Oran Berry pollen, or the Grass-type energy of certain Pokémon influence the growth of magical plants? It was an intriguing mystery waiting to be explored.
Once he finally settled down, Charles realized—he hadn't prepared any lesson plans yet.
It was only when he actually started teaching that he discovered how complicated the job really was. Although students from first to seventh year all studied similar topics, their comprehension levels varied drastically, meaning the pace of teaching had to differ accordingly.
Take the last class, for instance: the seventh-years had already conducted an actual Pokémon battle, while the first-years hadn't even fully understood basic type matchups.
Especially Neville—his memory was something else. The boy couldn't even grasp the simple relationship among the Water, Fire, and Grass types. Near the end of class, Charles overheard him muttering under his breath:"Water beats Fire, Fire beats Grass, Grass beats Water, Water beats—"
After three lines, his face scrunched up, his chubby hand scratching his head as he mumbled again,"Water beats Grass… Grass beats Fire… Fire beats Fire…"
Of course, Charles knew the poor memory wasn't Neville's fault. His symptoms resembled those of someone who'd been hit with too many Memory Charms—aftereffects that often led to forgetfulness. Fortunately, such conditions could improve with time.
Back in first year, Neville couldn't even remember passwords—he'd lose them even if written down. But by fifth year, his talent would gradually start to show. Maybe not exceptional, but certainly normal at least.
So Charles had no reason to dislike him. On the contrary, who could possibly dislike that adorable "other chosen one"?—The Sword Saint of Gryffindor, a man who would truly inherit the valor of Godric Gryffindor himself!
Charles thought that if Neville wasn't particularly gifted at spells, maybe it was better to guide him down another path early on. The making of a Sword Saint shouldn't be delayed.
As for magic—well, as long as he could cast Lumos, wasn't that enough? Who could say a wizard who only knew Lumos wasn't a true wizard?
"For first-years, we'll continue studying type advantages," Charles muttered to himself. "What a shame, though—Hogwarts' magical interference makes electronics useless. Otherwise, I'd just give every student the first Pokémon game to play. Learning through fun is far more effective than force-feeding knowledge."
By comparison, the third-years were progressing much faster. Most of them memorized type matchups within the first lesson. However, before letting them interact with Pokémon directly, Charles wanted them to learn Pokémon habits first.
For example, Pikachu doesn't like having its cheek pouches touched. If someone reached out to pet it just because it looked cute, they'd probably get zapped!
Still, Charles figured wizards were technically magical creatures too. Their magic resistance might not rival giants or trolls, but it was certainly better than an average Muggle's.A little shock from a Pikachu shouldn't kill anyone… right?
After all, not every Pikachu was a foolish Pikachu.
The next day's classes went smoothly as well, though Charles noticed that more and more students were looking at him with growing respect. Likely, some of them had received warnings from their parents over the weekend.
Especially the Slytherins—whenever they saw him, they acted like mice spotting a cat, barely daring to breathe.
Even though every pure-blood family publicly denied taking part in that one-sided wizard duel, the way they treated Charles now made it perfectly clear which families had once stood against him.
Not that Charles bore grudges against their children. He wouldn't drag the past generation's conflicts into his own classroom.
…
First-year Flying Lessons began in the second week after term started.
Gryffindor's class was scheduled together with Slytherin on Thursdays. That alone was enough to drain Harry's excitement for the subject.
It had only been a week since term began, yet Harry already had a terrible impression of the Slytherins—especially Draco Malfoy and his two lackeys. To Harry, Malfoy was every bit as awful as Dudley.
No—worse than Dudley!
"Just my luck," Harry muttered. "Exactly as I expected. I'll probably make a fool of myself on a broom in front of Malfoy." He could already picture Draco sneering at him.
Malfoy's flying skills, of course, were supposedly excellent—he'd bragged about them back in Diagon Alley that July, boasting about how he'd ridden a broom before.
(End of Chapter)