Turning Stone into Gold

Time went back to when Charlie stood before the Mirror.

He wanted to find the Philosopher's Stone, but reason told him he absolutely couldn't hold onto such a treasure with his current strength.

He understood the principle of "a man is as good as his treasure."

Not to mention the distant past, the recent Troll Incident proved someone was eyeing the Philosopher's Stone.

Charlie just wanted to find the Philosopher's Stone, see if he could farm some Tyrant Points, then hand it over to Dumbledore voluntarily.

That way, he'd get the system reward without inviting trouble.

But when he looked in the mirror, he coincidentally met the condition of wanting the Stone without intending to use it.

And so the Philosopher's Stone appeared in his pocket.

Feeling the weight in his pocket, Charlie's heartbeat instantly quickened.

He reached in and touched it; the warm, smooth sensation confirmed this wasn't an illusion.

But he had no idea how it worked.

On the surface, Charlie remained calm.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep it for himself, but the more people knew, the more dangerous it was.

With Ron and Harry being such big mouths, the whole school would know by tomorrow.

[Detected Your Majesty stealing legendary treasure Philosopher's Stone, Tyrant Points +100]

The system's prompt rang in his mind, and Charlie barely suppressed the ecstasy surging within him.

100 Tyrant Points! That was the biggest haul he'd ever gotten.

In the corner of the room, an invisible Dumbledore frowned.

What was he going to do now?

For a young Wizard, obtaining such a supreme treasure was extremely dangerous.

Not just the external threats, but also the temptation of his own greed.

If he sank into greed, with Charlie's talent, it was hard to say whether he'd become the next Dark Lord.

But the Philosopher's Stone was already in Charlie's hands, and the fuse of the bomb called greed had been lit.

For now, Dumbledore could only observe this boy more closely.

"Strange, where's the Philosopher's Stone?"

Harry looked at the mirror in confusion.

"Maybe there never was a Philosopher's Stone?" Ron scratched his head.

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

"Impossible, those defenses wouldn't be for show."

Everyone searched the room thoroughly, even checking every stone brick on the floor, but still found no trace of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Looks like we came for nothing," Fred shrugged.

"At least the process was exciting," George consoled.

Charlie listened quietly on the sidelines, but in his mind, he was already planning his next move.

The Philosopher's Stone was in hand; now the most important thing was a safe retreat.

"Since we didn't find anything, let's head back quickly," Charlie suggested.

"Any later, and we won't be able to get up for class tomorrow."

Hermione shot Charlie a surprised glance—hearing those words from him felt so out of place.

Everyone exchanged looks and decided to return the same way.

Back in Fluffy's room, the Three-headed Dog was still snoring loudly, its snores shaking the room.

The Twins had their own plans.

"We're going to the kitchen to see if we can grab some midnight snacks," Fred winked.

"Want to come?" George invited.

Charlie shook his head.

With the Philosopher's Stone on his mind, he just wanted to go back to the dorm and study this legendary treasure properly.

"Forget it, I'm a bit tired. I'll head back to rest."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, thinking about class the next day, also decided to return to the dorm.

"Then let's split up," Fred waved.

"See you tomorrow."

Everyone dispersed.

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

The corridor was silent, only the faint echo of their footsteps on the stone floor.

Harry led the way, the three of them whispering about the night's events.

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

"Impossible. Hagrid's reaction back then proved there definitely is one."

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

Hermione walked with her head down, deep in thought.

Just then, familiar footsteps came from ahead.

Thud, thud, thud.

Heavy and rhythmic.

"Filch!" Hermione gasped.

Harry was calm. He'd run into this plenty over the summer, so he spoke up to reassure them.

"Relax, Filch won't find us. We've got the Invisibility Cloak..."

But the next second, his face went deathly pale.

Where's my cloak?

He frantically patted himself down. Nothing.

Damn it!

He'd left the cloak in the Chamber of Secrets!

Filch's footsteps drew closer.

Harry's face was ashen. Panic hit all three at once.

There was nowhere to hide in the corridor. Filch spotted them and came scurrying over.

"We're done, done, done." Ron's lips went white.

"That old bastard looks like a vampire."

Hermione closed her eyes, her mind racing through any possible spell.

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

"Who's there?" Filch's raspy voice rang out.

They were caught red-handed.

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

Mrs. Norris followed behind him, tail held high.

"Three little brats." Filch grinned, showing yellowed teeth.

"Sneaking around the corridor in the dead of night."

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

"Come with me. We're going to your Head of House."

In Professor McGonagall's office, the fire in the hearth blazed brightly.

She wore a plaid dressing gown, her hair wrapped in a hairnet—clearly roused from bed in a hurry.

"Explain yourselves, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice was cold enough to freeze, her eyes nearly shooting flames.

"Why were the three of you on the Fourth Floor corridor at midnight?"

Harry kept his head down, not daring to meet her eyes.

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

"Wanted to what?" Her tone shot up sharply.

"Go on an adventure? Explore areas that are explicitly forbidden?"

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

Hermione couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears welled in her eyes.

She'd never been scolded like this by a teacher, least of all by Professor McGonagall, whom she respected most.

"I'm sorry, Professor." Her voice trembled.

"Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall cut her off.

"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's most vulnerable spot.

She bit her lower lip, tears spilling over.

"Gryffindor loses ninety points." Professor McGonagall breathed heavily.

"Thirty points each."

The three of them turned pale instantly.

This meant Gryffindor was almost out of the running for the House Cup.

"Also, the three of you are to report for detention."

When they returned to the Gryffindor Common Room, almost everyone was already asleep.

The three climbed the staircase in silence, no one speaking.

Hermione sniffled as she slipped into her dormitory, the door closing with a particularly dull thud.

Harry and Ron each went to their own rooms, their hearts as heavy as if a boulder were pressing down on them.

At that moment, Charlie wasn't heading back to his dormitory.

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows.

Charlie found a secluded enough spot and pulled out the smooth, 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, 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 just icing on the cake.

To Charlie, its most practical use was turning stone to gold, padding his little stash.

He picked up a few ordinary stones from the ground, pressed the Philosopher's Stone against one, and willed the Magic Power within it.

The stone transformed instantly.

A golden sheen spread across its gray-black surface, its texture growing heavy. Seconds later, a lump of pure gold rested in Charlie's hand.

"It really works."

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

Soon, a small pile of gold nuggets glittered under the moonlight.

The dazzling golden light was blinding.

Charlie crouched beside the pile, reaching out to stroke the gold.

The cool touch told him this was real.

He'd never seen so much gold before, and now it was all his.

But he clearly couldn't carry it all, and it was too conspicuous.

Charlie looked around, found a sturdy Oak Tree as a marker, dug a hole near its roots, and buried the gold.

After covering the soil, he made a few more marks nearby to ensure he could find the spot again.

"I need to figure out a way to carry it with me," Charlie mused.

"There must be something like a storage Ring in the magical world, right?"

In the shadows of a nearby tree, Dumbledore remained invisible, quietly observing everything.

An eleven-year-old child getting excited over a fortune was normal.

Dumbledore didn't mind Charlie creating gold, but he worried whether this wealth would corrupt Charlie's heart.

So far, so good.

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

At least he was far better than Tom Riddle back in the day.