After formulating his plan, Charles quickly sent Harry away.
The Hogwarts Cup was scheduled to begin on the third day. In fact, aside from the four participating schools, Charles had invited numerous guests to attend as well—among them high-ranking officials like Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour. Naturally, departments such as the Department of Magical Games and Sports were also included in his invitation list.
The department's head, Ludo Bagman, was particularly enthusiastic about Charles Gold. The moment he arrived at Hogwarts, he began eagerly asking around for news about him.
Although he hadn't yet figured out what kind of sport "Pokémon battles" actually were, that didn't stop him from wanting to make an impression before the minister's favored rising star.
Unfortunately for him, he couldn't find Charles anywhere.
"The professor just left—he said he'll be back tomorrow," Neville stammered nervously in front of Charles's office, sweat dripping down his forehead.
He couldn't be blamed for his nerves; standing before him were some of the most powerful people in the wizarding world—the Minister for Magic, the Head of the Auror Office, and the Director of International Magical Cooperation.
For little Neville Longbottom, this was far beyond anything he'd ever faced.
"Tomorrow, you say? Fine, tomorrow it is!" Fudge removed his hat, wiping at his sweat in the summer heat. "The matches start tomorrow, after all!"
He had come to inform Charles that the American Aurors had already infiltrated the event—disguised under Japanese credentials, which had made them harder to detect at first.
Fudge couldn't understand why Charles seemed so unconcerned about any action from the International Confederation of Wizards. If this incident escalated into an international issue, even the most powerful wizards could find themselves powerless.
After all, Grindelwald had commanded legions of followers and still failed—and as for the Dark Lord…
He'd never even managed to extend his reach beyond Britain.
Could it be that Charles actually intended to challenge the Confederation itself?
The thought flashed through Fudge's mind for an instant before he dismissed it as ridiculous.
After all, Dumbledore was still alive. Even if Charles Gold wished to become the next Dark Lord, it was impossible for him to surpass Dumbledore while the man still drew breath.
Fudge sighed and rubbed his scalp in frustration. The stress of the past few days had cost him quite a few hairs.
Those hair-growth potions on the market clearly didn't work at all!
The Hogwarts training grounds were already filled with wizards seated all around.
Though the seventh-years had completed their N.E.W.T.s, not a single one had left the castle. Everyone had stayed to witness this unprecedented event.
Up on the high platform, Dumbledore and the other headmasters sat in their ceremonial robes, waiting for the competition to begin.
The field itself had undergone a dramatic transformation compared to its usual Quidditch configuration.
The soft earth had been removed in a huge rectangular section, revealing a deep, dark pit below.
On either side of the pit stood two opposing platforms.
"Dumbledore, why is the arena built like this?" Olympe Maxime asked curiously.
"This is because, in Pokémon battles, trainers and their Pokémon may face a variety of environmental conditions," Dumbledore explained patiently.
His words drew the attention of the other headmasters.
"You mean the environment itself is part of the battle? I recall seeing that in one of the Pokémon comics," said the delegation leader from Mahōtokoro in broken English, chuckling.
He had heard of the Pokémon manga popular in Japan—especially among the Muggle-born students of their school. No one had expected those "fictional creatures" to turn out to be real.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, smiling. "However, unlike what you've seen in the comics, in real Pokémon battles, wizards themselves may also participate directly. You might think of it as another form of wizard dueling—though for safety reasons, the trainers are not to be targeted directly."
Wizard dueling had once been a popular competition, but due to its dangers, it was no longer commonly held.
Once Dumbledore assured them of the security measures, everyone's interest was immediately piqued—even Maxime, who had been rather indifferent earlier, now watched intently.
Meanwhile, Voldemort—still parasitically hidden within Karkaroff—glowered inwardly at the memory of the Pokémon that had once left a scar on his borrowed body. His hatred for Pokémon burned deeply, and yet… perhaps because of that, his curiosity toward them had only grown stronger.
Since the arena was built at ground level, it was somewhat distant from the stands, so Charles had prepared several enormous viewing screens when modifying the field.
These weren't Muggle electronic devices but alchemic constructs resembling giant crystal balls.
He had also cast the Extension Charm upon the field, ensuring the arena would be spacious enough—especially since wizards themselves would be stepping onto the battlefield.
"Are you ready?"
In a corner of the grounds, Charles addressed Lee Jordan, who was seated astride a large Fearow, preparing to take flight.
"Relax, Professor. Commentary is my specialty!" Lee said proudly, shaking his dreadlocks.
"I just want to remind you—don't start stirring up trouble between Slytherin and Gryffindor while commentating. Otherwise, I'll have to find a new announcer next year."
"Er—alright, alright, Professor. But you should have a little faith in my professionalism!"
"If I hadn't already heard your previous Quidditch commentaries, maybe I would," Charles replied dryly, patting the Fearow's tail. The great bird spread its wings and soared into the sky.
"Loud and clear," Charles murmured, casting a Sonorus Charm on Lee so that his voice would carry across the entire arena.
"Ahem—"
A booming voice echoed over the field, immediately drawing everyone's attention. Soon, all eyes turned upward to see a young black wizard riding a massive bird Pokémon through the air.
"Look—it's Lee!" a Gryffindor girl shrieked. "He's the commentator?"
Lee Jordan beamed with pride.
"How lame! He's riding that ugly Fearow?"
"If it were me, I'd make the professor bring out his Pidgeot!"
Fred and George Weasley bantered from the players' section, teasing their friend mercilessly.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lee bellowed enthusiastically. "Welcome to the very first Pokémon Tournament – The Hogwarts Cup!"
The visiting guests might not yet understand the appeal of Pokémon battles, but the Hogwarts students certainly did. At Lee's words, cheers erupted like a tidal wave, their excitement echoing through the grounds.
Soon even the foreign spectators found themselves swept up in the contagious enthusiasm.
"This might really become the next Quidditch," Ludo Bagman murmured, his eyes gleaming as he leaned forward with interest.
If that day ever came, the more he knew about Pokémon, the greater the advantage—and the profit—he would have.
"Everyone, the Pokémon Tournament—The Hogwarts Cup—begins now!"
"The first-round competitors are—!"
(End of Chapter)