[Slytherin's Horcrux has been successfully destroyed. Current Horcrux destruction progress: 2][Congratulations! You have received a milestone reward: Level +2, New Ability: "Quick Strike", and Legendary Pokémon intel: Keldeo.]
Early in the morning, Charles Gold was woken by two crisp notifications from the system.
"Slytherin's locket has already been destroyed? Dumbledore sure acts fast."
The milestone reward was nearly identical to the one he'd gotten after destroying the Diadem—two level-ups, one new ability, and information about a Legendary Pokémon.
This time, that Pokémon was Keldeo, one of the Swords of Justice—the same one that appeared in Kyurem's movie.
[The Legendary Sword of Justice stands for honor and righteousness. Only messengers of unyielding spirit and noble heart may meet it.]
"The Sword of Justice values honor… well, that does make sense," Charles muttered.
He wasn't particularly invested in the Legendary Pokémon, though. He hadn't even found Uxie yet, after all.
And besides, strength was one thing—but righteousness was another. If being a Sword of Justice just meant acting like some chivalrous vigilante, well… he was confident he could fill that role just fine.
At the end of the day, intelligence rewards were never as satisfying as tangible ones.
With Slytherin's locket destroyed, Charles's level rose to 59, narrowing the gap between himself, Dumbledore, and Voldemort even further.
Combined with the powerful wand he now possessed, he was confident that even if Voldemort were resurrected on the spot, he could take him head-on.
[Quick Strike: When using a non-status move, there is a 30% chance to act first.]
"Now that's not bad at all," Charles said approvingly. "If it triggers mid-battle, it could really catch an opponent off guard."
He imagined it—him and Voldemort dueling, curses flying through the air. The Dark Lord would just be getting used to Charles's spellcasting rhythm, when suddenly—Quick Strike procs, and an unexpected Avada Kedavra flies faster than expected. Even if Voldemort managed to block it, the disruption in his tempo would be fatal.
In a life-or-death duel, once the rhythm breaks, the balance of victory begins to tilt.
One Horcrux destroyed had netted him two levels. Now that he was sitting at level 59, Charles couldn't help but feel the itch to push higher.
"No… I can't stand being stuck just before 60. I need to get stronger."
Natural magic growth was already slowing for him. To level up quickly, he'd have to defeat opponents of similar strength—but those were few and far between. He couldn't exactly challenge Dumbledore to a duel every day.
That left only one option—Horcruxes.
"Harry's off-limits, Nagini isn't a Horcrux yet, and the diary's in Dumbledore's hands… That leaves Hufflepuff's Cup and the Gaunt Ring."
Charles's gaze sharpened. The ring would be his next target—and while he was at it, he planned to study the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows.
Among the three Deathly Hallows, the Resurrection Stone was the most mysterious.
For a long time, even Dumbledore had believed it was nothing but legend. As for the other two—Harry's Invisibility Cloak, while special, was admittedly a bit underwhelming.
The Elder Wand was undeniably powerful—but it was also the most treacherous of wands, forever seeking a new master. A true wand of betrayal.
It was amusing—Dumbledore and Grindelwald had conspired over the Hallows nearly a century ago, but neither had ever succeeded in possessing all three.
Even Dumbledore himself had never held more than two at once.
That was what piqued Charles's curiosity most: what would truly happen if one did unite all three Deathly Hallows? Would it be like the Dragon Balls—summoning Death itself?Or… would one truly become the Master of Death?
He didn't linger on the thought for long. After finishing the week's lessons, Charles went to the Three Broomsticks with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin for a few drinks.
The bar's signature ribs platter was excellent, and Madam Rosmerta herself—still charming, if a little weathered—served them personally. Her looks had aged, sure, but for a woman in her forties, she'd kept up quite well—especially by European standards.
The three of them shared Butterbeer and conversation, though it was mostly Sirius doing the talking, with Remus occasionally chiming in.Charles, not one for small talk with acquaintances, listened in silence.
Perhaps those two old men had simply lived through too much; they even outdid Dumbledore in their fondness for reminiscing about the past.
By the end, what had begun as a small "thank-you gathering" arranged by Sirius had turned into a full-blown Snape-bashing session.
"I still can't believe that greasy git became Head of Slytherin! He's completely unfit for it!" Sirius said heatedly—and he wasn't wrong.
"The way he treats Harry—if he were standing in front of me right now, I'd deck him in the face!" Sirius's fists clenched as his anger flared.
But before anyone could respond, a low, venomous voice came from behind him.
"Is that so?"
Charles looked up to see a dark, billowing shadow—Snape.
"Ha—speak of the devil, you greasy git!" Sirius leapt to his feet, ready to fight.
"I just happened to be passing by the Hog's Head," Snape said with a cold sneer. "Imagine my surprise when I found three people who despise me gathered together."
"I'm not one of them," Charles replied lightly, keeping his tone neutral. "I've always had great respect for my former Head of House."
Snape gave a curt, derisive snort. He knew better than to push his luck with Charles—crossing him would only end badly.
"You filthy greaseball! How dare you show your face in front of me!" Sirius shouted, drawing his wand. His stance screamed fight first, talk later.
Snape didn't back down—he'd already gripped his wand the moment he'd seen Sirius.
At once, the other patrons scrambled to flee. Everyone knew Snape's reputation from his Death Eater days—and Sirius Black was hardly a pushover. No one wanted to get caught between those two.
"Enough!" Rosmerta's furious voice cut through the tension as she stormed over."Stop it! What do you think this is, the Hog's Head?!"
She planted herself between them, glaring daggers until both lowered their wands. The confrontation ended before it could begin.
Charles couldn't help but sigh in disappointment—it would've been entertaining, at least.
"Consider yourself lucky, greaseball!" Sirius snapped.
Snape sneered. "No, you're the lucky one. If not for James Potter, do you really think you'd stand a chance against me?"
Then, turning his cold gaze to Charles, he added icily:
"I'd advise you to stay away from idiots. Foolishness, after all… is contagious."
(End of Chapter)