It didn't take long for the first round of the selection matches to end.
Because of time constraints, the second round of the advancement matches had to wait until tomorrow. Even so, by the time Harry returned to the dormitory, it was already past nine o'clock.
Charles watched as each Head of House led their students away, then began tidying up his own things and restoring the battlefield. He'd already memorized today's list of advancing students, along with several who, despite losing, had performed impressively enough to be added to the club's candidate list.
"Reparo." With a wave of his wand, the classroom returned to its original state. However, he didn't cancel the Extension Charm—after all, this very room served as the Pokémon Master Club's activity room. It wouldn't make sense to cast the spell anew every time.
"Chansey, Audino, I'll leave the injured Pokémon to you two," Charles said to the Pokémon serving as the club's medical staff.
These two were considered paragons within their species, and with their help, tending to the wounded Pokémon was far easier.
"Chansey, Chansey!"
Chansey lifted her short arms cheerfully, assuring him it was no problem at all.
Once everything was put away, Charles was about to head back to his office when he noticed a figure standing at the far end of the dark corridor, as if waiting specifically for him.
At first, he thought it might be Dumbledore—but as he approached, he realized it wasn't. Dumbledore was tall, about the same height as Charles. The shadow before him was noticeably shorter.
A few steps closer, and he knew exactly who it was—because he caught the unmistakable stench of garlic.
"Professor Quirrell?" Charles called out cautiously.
Merlin knew whether the man standing before him was Quirinus Quirrell himself or Voldemort in disguise. But either way, Charles wasn't afraid. Voldemort couldn't possibly make an open move inside Hogwarts—it would be no different from declaring his return in front of Dumbledore.
At least for now, he didn't have that kind of confidence.
Even if he did, he might not be a match for Charles.
At his peak, Voldemort was terrifying—second only to Dumbledore wielding the Elder Wand. Without that wand, Dumbledore might have struggled against him.
Charles estimated Voldemort's level to be close to Level 80.
That wasn't because his talent exceeded Dumbledore's or Charles's—it was because he'd gone to extremes. One only needed to look at him to see the price he'd paid. To master dark magic and enhance his own power, he'd altered himself beyond recognition, pushing his body closer and closer to that of a magical creature.
And now, there existed something even more fascinating than magical creatures—Pokémon.
If Voldemort truly had awakened again, how could he possibly resist his curiosity about them?
Still, by Charles's estimation, Voldemort didn't dare keep his consciousness active for long. Doing so would rapidly drain Quirrell's life force.
Voldemort likely didn't care whether Quirrell lived or died—but if the host perished, finding another suitable wizard to possess wouldn't be easy. Snape was a Death Eater, yes, but after all these years, how could Voldemort be sure Snape hadn't already betrayed him?
In fact, the odds of betrayal were quite high.
Besides, Quirrell himself had once been a gifted wizard. He might look timid now, but back in his school days, he'd been a theoretical genius.
His lack of practical skill was relative at best; otherwise, he never would've become a Hogwarts professor at such a young age. Before taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he had even taught Muggle Studies.
And the curse he'd cast on Harry earlier—even Snape hadn't been able to dispel it right away.
Charles wasn't much younger than Quirrell; in fact, when Charles first entered Hogwarts, Quirrell hadn't even graduated yet.
"Ch–Ch–Charles Gold," Quirrell greeted him nervously when he approached, stammering as usual.
"Something you needed, Professor?" Charles asked, forcing himself not to grimace at the nauseating stench. Ever since term began, he'd avoided Quirrell for that reason alone.
Most people thought it was the smell of garlic—but it wasn't. Not really.
"N–No, nothing much," Quirrell said, his voice trembling. "I saw today's… t–tournament, and I th–think Pokémon are quite… interesting. I wanted to ask a few q–questions about them. If you c–could lend me one or two, that would be… even better. I thought… perhaps… the Defense Against the Dark Arts c–curriculum could use them as case studies."
Charles strained to make sense of the halting words.
Honestly, if not for that ridiculous stammer, Quirrell might have made a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"You want to learn more about Pokémon? Of course, that's fine," Charles replied with a faint smile. "I haven't visited your classroom yet, actually. I heard you ran into a few vampires in the Black Forest?" he asked deliberately, watching for Quirrell's reaction.
"Y–Yes, that's right," Quirrell said quickly.
Sure enough, he tensed up immediately. He wasn't truly a stammerer; that was merely an act—a disguise to keep people from probing too deeply.
"B–Better not talk about th–that," Quirrell added nervously.
"Of course," Charles said lightly. "Sad memories aren't worth revisiting. Fortunately, those days are behind you now. Back here at Hogwarts, you don't have to fear anything anymore—it's the safest place in the world. I imagine it must feel a bit like coming home."
Voldemort (inwardly):You're absolutely right!
Hidden beneath Quirrell's turban, Voldemort silently agreed with Charles's last remark.
To him, Hogwarts was home—the only thing that infuriated him was how many unwelcome guests were currently living in it.
Charles maintained a pleasant expression, feigning genuine interest in conversation just to see what Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—was plotting. But Quirrell seemed genuinely curious about Pokémon, not scheming anything, and their talk turned almost natural.
He even invited Charles to bring a few Pokémon to his next class, to serve as teaching assistants in demonstrating how to counter magical creatures with strong resistance to spells.
"Of course," Charles agreed readily. "I'd be delighted."
After all, if he accompanied them himself, there'd be no need to worry about what Quirrell might try to do to the Pokémon.
Besides, this would give him an opportunity to teach both Quirrell and Harry how to overcome the coming trials. If they got stuck on the challenges he'd set, Dumbledore's entire plan might be derailed.
"It's getting late, Professor Quirrell. I'll take my leave," Charles said politely, turning toward the staff quarters.
(End of Chapter)