Gold Transmutation

Charlie was standing before the Mirror of Erised.

He wanted to find the Philosopher's Stone, but reason told him that with his current strength, he could never protect such a treasure.

He understood that possessing a treasure could bring misfortune.

The recent Troll Incident was proof enough that someone was keeping an eye on the Philosopher's Stone.

Charlie only wanted to find the Stone and see if he could earn some Tyrant Points. Once he was done, he would hand it over to Dumbledore of his own accord.

That way, he could get the system's reward without getting into trouble.

But while looking in the mirror, he had accidentally fulfilled the conditions of wanting the Philosopher's Stone without wanting to use it.

And just like that, the Philosopher's Stone appeared in his pocket.

Feeling its weight, Charlie's heart began to race.

He reached in and touched it. Its smooth, jade-like warmth confirmed that this wasn't an illusion.

But he had no idea how it had happened.

On the surface, Charlie remained composed.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep it for himself. The more people who knew, the more dangerous it would be.

With Ron and Harry around, the whole school would know by tomorrow.

[Detected Your Majesty's theft of the legendary treasure, the Philosopher's Stone. Tyrant Points +100]

The system notification sounded in his mind, and Charlie struggled to contain his excitement.

One hundred Tyrant Points! It was the largest payout he had received so far.

In the corner of the room, the invisible Dumbledore furrowed his brow.

What was he supposed to do?

For a young wizard, possessing such a priceless treasure was dangerous.

The danger came not only from the outside world, but also from the temptation of his own greed.

If Charlie gave in to greed, then with his talent, it was hard to say whether he might become the next Dark Lord.

But the Philosopher's Stone was already in Charlie's hands. The fuse on the bomb called greed had been lit.

For now, all Dumbledore could do was keep a closer eye on the boy.

"Strange. Where's the Philosopher's Stone?"

Harry stared at the mirror, puzzled.

"Could it be that there isn't a Philosopher's Stone at all?" Ron scratched his head.

Hermione carefully examined every inch of the mirror, trying to find some sort of mechanism.

"That can't be. Those protections wouldn't be there for nothing."

They searched the entire room, checking every stone tile on the floor, but still couldn't find any trace of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Looks like we came all this way for nothing," Fred said with a shrug.

"At least it was exciting," George said consolingly.

Charlie listened quietly beside them, already planning his next move.

He had the Philosopher's Stone. The most important thing now was to get out safely.

"Since we haven't found anything, we should head back," Charlie suggested.

"If we stay up any later, we won't be able to get up for class tomorrow."

Hermione gave Charlie a surprised look. Why did it sound so strange coming from him?

They exchanged glances and decided to retrace their steps.

When they returned to Fluffy's room, the Three-headed dog was still fast asleep, snoring like thunder.

The Twins had plans of their own.

"We're going to check the kitchens and see if we can get a midnight snack," Fred said with a wink.

"Want to come along?" George invited them.

Charlie shook his head.

With the Philosopher's Stone on his mind, all he wanted was to get back to his dorm and examine the legendary treasure.

"Never mind. I'm a little tired. I'll go back and get some rest."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione remembered that they had class the next day, so they decided to return to their dorm, too.

"Then let's split up," Fred said, waving.

"See you tomorrow."

They went their separate ways.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione carefully made their way out of the Fourth Floor.

The corridor was quiet, and the only sound was their footsteps echoing softly against the flagstones.

Harry walked in front as the three of them whispered about what had happened that night.

"Could there really be no Philosopher's Stone?"

"That's impossible. Hagrid's reaction proved that there definitely was one."

"We just didn't find the last mechanism to open it."

Hermione walked with her head bowed, deep in thought.

Just then, familiar footsteps sounded up ahead.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Heavy and rhythmic.

"Filch!" Hermione gasped.

Harry stayed calm. He had encountered situations like this plenty of times over the summer, so he tried to reassure them.

"Don't worry. Filch can't find us. We have the Invisibility Cloak..."

But the next second, his face turned deathly pale.

Where was his cloak?

He frantically felt around himself, but found nothing.

This was bad!

He had left the cloak in the Chamber of Secrets!

Filch's footsteps drew closer and closer.

Harry went pale, and the three of them panicked.

There was nowhere to hide in the corridor. Filch spotted them and hurried over, delighted.

"We're done for, we're done for, we're done for," Ron stammered, his lips pale.

"That old bastard looks like a vampire."

Hermione closed her eyes, desperately searching her mind for any spell that might help.

But she didn't dare attack an adult wizard. (She thought Filch was a wizard.)

"Who's there?" Filch rasped.

The three of them had been caught red-handed.

Filch approached with his lantern raised, his murky eyes glinting menacingly in the dim light.

Mrs. Norris followed behind him, her tail held high.

"Three little brats," Filch said with a grin, showing his yellowing teeth.

"Up in the middle of the night, sneaking around the corridors."

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Filch didn't give him a chance.

"Come with me. We're going to see your head of house."

The fire burned brightly in Professor McGonagall's office.

She wore a checked dressing gown, her hair tucked into a net. She had clearly been roused in a hurry.

"Explain yourselves, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice was cold enough to freeze, and her eyes seemed ready to shoot fire.

"Why were the three of you in the Fourth Floor Corridor at midnight?"

Harry lowered his head, unable to meet Professor McGonagall's eyes.

"We... We just wanted to..."

"Wanted what?" Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly rose.

"To go on an adventure? To explore areas you were explicitly forbidden to enter?"

"I thought you cared about Gryffindor's honor."

Hermione could no longer hold back, tears welling in her eyes.

She had never been scolded by a teacher like this before, let alone by Professor McGonagall, whom she admired most.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said, her voice trembling.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"I'm very disappointed in you. As an outstanding student, you should set an example, not lead the way in breaking school rules."

Those words struck Hermione where she was most vulnerable.

She bit her lower lip, and tears spilled over.

"Gryffindor loses ninety points," Professor McGonagall said, breathing hard.

"Thirty points each."

The three of them turned deathly pale.

It meant Gryffindor had almost no chance of winning the House Cup.

"Furthermore, the three of you will be serving detention."

By the time they returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, almost everyone was asleep.

The three of them silently climbed the stairs. No one spoke.

Hermione hurried into her dormitory, sobbing, and shut the door with a particularly heavy thud.

Harry and Ron returned to their rooms, too, their hearts weighed down like they were carrying boulders.

Charlie hadn't returned to his dorm.

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, moonlight filtered through the leaves, scattering dappled shadows across the ground.

Charlie found a secluded spot and took out the smooth, warm red stone.

The Philosopher's Stone.

The legendary treasure lay quietly in his palm.

The blood-red stone was about the size of an egg, and felt warm to the touch.

Charlie took a deep breath.

He was excited, thrilled, but not greedy. For someone with a system, the Philosopher's Stone was merely an added bonus.

The Stone's most useful function, as far as Charlie was concerned, was turning things into gold and adding to his savings.

Charlie picked up a few ordinary stones from the ground, pressed the Philosopher's Stone against one of them, and focused on the magic power within it.

The stone changed in an instant.

Its gray-black surface began to gleam gold, and it grew heavier. A few seconds later, a lump of pure gold rested in Charlie's hand.

"It really works."

Charlie's heart raced as he touched the Philosopher's Stone to more stones.

Before long, a small pile of gold bars had accumulated on the ground, glittering in the moonlight.

Their dazzling golden glow was almost blinding.

Charlie crouched beside the pile and ran his hand over the gold.

Its cool touch told him it was all real.

He had never seen so much gold before. Now it all belonged to him.

There was too much gold to carry, and it was far too conspicuous.

Charlie looked around and spotted a sturdy oak tree to use as a marker. He dug a hole near its roots and buried all the gold bars.

After covering the hole with soil, he made several marks nearby to ensure he could find the spot again.

"I need to think of a way to carry it around," Charlie mused.

"There should be something like a storage ring in the Wizarding World, right?"

Among the trees not far away, Dumbledore remained invisible, quietly watching it all.

It was normal for an eleven-year-old boy to be excited by a fortune.

Dumbledore didn't mind Charlie transmuting gold, but he worried that wealth might corrupt his heart.

So far, things seemed all right.

Charlie's behavior showed no signs of madness or obsession.

At least he was far better than Tom Riddle had been at the same age.