It was Saturday afternoon, and Charles Gold was waiting inside the Pokémon Club for his little wizards to arrive.
Harry and his friends had just finished Quidditch practice when they came to the classroom. They hadn't even sat down before they were already arguing with Malfoy again.
"Well, well, who do we have here? Harry Potter and his little tagalongs! What's this I hear, Weasley—didn't a troll hit you? You look fine, so I suppose the troll must've mistaken you for family!"
"I'm not surprised, really—your family's just as filthy as trolls anyway."
Malfoy's mouth was sharp as ever, far beyond what Harry or Ron could match. In just a few sentences, Ron was trembling with rage.
"Shut it, Malfoy! If you want a duel, then come over here and we'll settle it! Though I doubt you've got the guts. Your two brainless bodyguards can't save you now!" Harry fired back before Ron could explode further.
The tension rose quickly, and it looked like a fight was about to break out. Hermione hurriedly stepped between them—she had already spotted Charles Gold walking over from afar.
"Stop it, both of you! The professor's coming any second now!"
"This has nothing to do with you, you filthy Mudblood!" Malfoy sneered, his tone full of disdain and disgust.
Even Ron froze for a moment. Across the room, students from other years turned their heads in shock—no one had expected him to actually use that word.
Harry and Hermione didn't know what "Mudblood" meant, but they could tell from the way everyone reacted that it was something awful. The air instantly turned heavy, especially between the Gryffindors and Slytherins—it felt like a single spark would set the room ablaze.
Ron's anger finally boiled over. He pulled out his battered wand and pointed it straight at Malfoy's face.
"You take that back, Malfoy! Wingardium—"
But before he could finish the spell, Ron suddenly found that he couldn't speak at all.
Charles had reached them. He hadn't cast any audible spell—hadn't even drawn his wand—but with just a flicker of will, Ron's voice vanished.
"Professor?" Harry looked at Charles in surprise. Even Malfoy flinched slightly, though his smug grin quickly returned when he saw Ron silenced.
He clearly thought the professor was on his side.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Because the term "Mudblood" was something Charles hated most of all. Back in his Hogwarts days, every Slytherin who had dared call him that had ended up with their head dunked in a toilet until they drank half the water inside.
"Let's see who'll help you now, Potter!" Malfoy jeered.
"Malfoy," Charles said coldly, unbinding Ron with a casual gesture, "I'll be discussing your behavior with Professor Snape. We'll decide your punishment after that."
He hadn't silenced Ron to protect Malfoy—he was a teacher, and he couldn't allow a duel between students right under his nose. But Malfoy's insult? That, he would not let slide.
"If this happens again, I'll remove you from both the Club and the Pokémon Master class." Charles didn't even look at Malfoy as he turned and walked away.
Everyone could tell—Professor Gold was furious.
Even Malfoy looked uneasy now. His father had told him to stay on good terms with Professor Gold… but it seemed he'd just done the exact opposite.
Charles, however, left his anger at the door. By the time he reached the front of the classroom, his expression was calm again—so neutral that no one could read his thoughts.
But he still had something important to say.
"I'm glad to see everyone here today. I mentioned before that attendance for the Club isn't mandatory—but if someone skipped the very first meeting, I would've been… a little disappointed.
"Besides, today's meeting is special. We're going to the Pokémon Nature Reserve—to capture Pokémon. Anyone who's absent will be missing out on a rare opportunity."
His words instantly blew away the tension. The students who had been stiff and silent moments ago were now wide-eyed and buzzing with excitement.
Fred was the first to speak up. "Professor, when you say 'capture Pokémon,' do you mean we can actually have one of our own?"
"Good comprehension," Charles said dryly. "Should I give you extra credit for that?"
"If you'd like to," George chimed in.
Charles smiled faintly but continued, "Whether or not you succeed depends on whether a Pokémon accepts you. I won't interfere. Each of you will receive six Poké Balls—then you'll have to earn your partner's trust yourself."
In other words: if you wanted a Pokémon, grab your wand and face them one-on-one.
"I can't wait. You, George?"
"Same here."
The twins exchanged grins, and their excitement spread like wildfire through the group.
Students began urging Charles to hurry.
But before leading them out, he said one more thing:
"Before we begin, I want to remind you of something. I know you come from different Houses, and sometimes that causes tension. But inside my Club, I expect you to treat one another with respect. Even if you don't get along, you will not insult your classmates.
"To me, such behavior is cowardly and weak. It doesn't make you noble. It doesn't make you elegant."
His gaze lingered briefly on the Slytherins. He knew exactly how that House thought.
"All right, follow me."
Charles led the way out of the classroom, a crowd of students trailing behind. Those passing by in the corridors looked on with open envy.
Harry, who had already memorized the path to the professor's office, leaned close to Ron and Hermione as they walked.
"So, have you thought about what kind of Pokémon you want to catch?"
"Maybe a Ponyta," Ron muttered. "But honestly, I just want to know if Malfoy's going to be punished."
"He will," said Harry firmly. "Professor Gold was furious."
"Yeah, but he said he'd talk to Snape first. Who knows if Snape will even let him punish Malfoy? That greasy git never does. You'd think Malfoy was his son or something!"
Little did Ron know—Snape despised that word even more than Charles did.
"I trust Professor Gold," said Hermione. "But… what does 'Mudblood' mean, anyway?"
She didn't seem too bothered—after all, nothing pleasant ever came out of Malfoy's mouth.
Ron hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Finally, he muttered angrily,"It's the worst thing he could've said. 'Mudblood' is a filthy name for witches or wizards born to Muggles—people whose parents can't use magic. Some wizards, like the Malfoys, think they're better because they're 'pure-blood.' But everyone else knows that's rubbish. You know more spells than Malfoy ever will."
Fred and George leaned over, grinning.
"Don't worry, little Ronnie. Professor Gold will punish him."
George nodded. "If you knew anything about the professor's past, you'd know just how much he hates that word."
(End of Chapter)