In the end, Quirrell died. Perhaps only Dumbledore had ever felt a trace of pity for his fate—but even then, Dumbledore, in his own way, could be ruthlessly detached.
As for Charles, he cared even less.
After all, the man had only brought ruin upon himself.
Quirrell's downfall was not without cause. Discovering Voldemort during his travels had not been a matter of chance, and from the very beginning, he had already resolved to submit.
What truly surprised Charles was that Quirrell's death had triggered a system reward.
[Detected: Temporary Horcrux of Voldemort destroyed. Current Horcrux Destruction Progress: 4][Congratulations! You have received a Stage Reward: TM—Night Slash, Fossil Restoration Machine, Electirizer ×1]
So Quirrell was actually one of Voldemort's temporary Horcruxes, Charles mused.
It made sense. Voldemort's possession of Quirrell's body met most of the conditions for creating a Horcrux. The only difference was that Quirrell had not been sacrificed in the process—hence why he had not become a true Horcrux himself.
Because of that, the reward this time was rather modest.
Still, the Fossil Restoration Machine was a valuable acquisition—he could finally revive Baby Tyrant.
Dumbledore carried the unconscious Harry over and approached him slowly.
Harry's condition wasn't worrisome. The boy had only fainted due to the intense pain of Voldemort's presence—his scar reacting violently to the proximity of the Dark Lord's soul.
"It seems Lily's protection still works," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "As long as Harry remains underage, Voldemort cannot touch him. I suspect that even his magic will fail to affect Harry directly."
"You should've tested that just now," Charles said with a teasing smile.
Dumbledore, of course, wouldn't take such a risk.
"All right, let's take him to the infirmary. I imagine Weasley and Granger are already beside themselves with worry."
Once Dumbledore delivered Harry to the hospital wing, Charles withdrew from the matter entirely.
He returned to his office, installed the newly acquired Fossil Restoration Machine in his breeding room, and placed the Jaw Fossil inside.
Unlike in the games, the machine didn't instantly produce a revived Pokémon before his eyes. In reality, it extracted the genetic material of ancient Pokémon from the fossil and reconstructed the organism through cloning—a process that naturally required time.
Within the green nutrient chamber beside the device, a single cell began to stir to life.
Satisfied, Charles left the machine to its work and turned instead to crafting a new wand for Neville. His old wand had been damaged during their time in the Forbidden Forest—when he'd risked himself to save Malfoy.
Since Charles intended to cultivate Neville's potential, it would be negligent to ignore this. The only question was what materials to use.
"A shame I haven't unlocked Gallade in my Pokédex yet… that would've suited him perfectly."
After some thought, he decided to experiment with materials dropped from a Bulbasaur. If it didn't suit, he could always make another—wand-making had become something of a hobby for him anyway.
——
News of what had happened in the third-floor corridor spread quickly through Hogwarts. The term hadn't yet ended, so none of the students had gone home—and yet their beloved Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had mysteriously vanished from existence.
When Hermione and Ron had gone for help that night, they hadn't found Dumbledore at all but instead ran straight into Snape on patrol. The encounter had terrified Hermione half to death.
Yet upon hearing that Harry was in danger, no one had been more alarmed than Snape himself. For days afterward, he kept casting dark looks at Dumbledore.
By now, Hermione and Ron still didn't know exactly what Harry had faced during the final trial, but they did understand one thing: Snape, whom they'd wrongly suspected for an entire year, had been innocent all along. The real culprit had been the unassuming Professor Quirrell.
Rumors swept through the school, each wilder than the last—thanks in large part to the Weasley twins, whose storytelling skills were second to none. Of course, they'd also made sure to pry details from Ron and Hermione before embellishing them even further.
Charles ignored it all. Sometimes, after all, the truth was far more frightening than any rumor.
"Professor, this wand is really for me?" Neville asked, eyes shining as he accepted it with both hands. His round face was alight with joy. He'd been thinking ever since that night in the common room—if only he'd had a wand then, maybe Hermione wouldn't have knocked him flat.
He still wasn't great at spells, but every wizard needed a wand—it just felt right.
"It's just a prototype," Charles said casually. "Try it out. If it doesn't suit you, I'll make another."
This wand, like his own, was longer than the standard model—built to better channel the power required for Iaido Slash, the quick-draw technique Charles had integrated into wand combat.
The usual wands were simply too short for that kind of precision.
Neville raised his wand and gave it a tentative swing. To his astonishment, the tip immediately flared with sparks.
He had never experienced anything like it. It felt as though something inside him—long blocked—had suddenly been set free.
"Professor, this is amazing!" he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement.
"Not bad," Charles said, though with mild dissatisfaction. "Still a little off. Looks like Bulbasaur leaves aren't the best match for you."
Neville's calm temperament aligned well with Grass-type Pokémon, but within him lay the courage of a lion—a side the wand's current materials failed to express.
"But it's so much better than my old one!" Neville said earnestly.
That much was true.
His old wand had belonged to his parents, with a core of unicorn hair—unwaveringly loyal, but utterly incompatible with Neville's own magic. Almost any normal wand would perform better than that.
"Keep using it for now—"
Before Charles could finish, a knock sounded at his door.
"Come in," he called.
The trio stepped in one after another.
"Professor. Neville, you're here too!"
"Harry! You're out of the infirmary?" Neville beamed. "I wanted to visit, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me in."
"She's been keeping everyone out," Ron complained. "Except Dumbledore, of course."
"Professor, we came to thank you," Harry said, exchanging glances with his friends before smiling.
"Honestly, without your Pokémon, we might not have made it," Hermione added.
"You should thank yourselves," Charles said with a light laugh. "They're your Pokémon, after all. And even with their help, I know you all gave it everything you had."
(End of Chapter)