Blackmailing Dumbledore

Over the next few days, whenever Charlie wasn't in class, he was in the Forbidden Forest turning stone to gold, nearly stripping the area clean of rocks.

From the castle's high tower, Dumbledore observed the depths of the Forbidden Forest through a Crystal Ball.

This young Wizard's diligence left him torn between laughter and exasperation—it was just that the direction of his diligence was absurdly off-track.

Every morning, Charlie showed up on time beneath that marked Oak Tree.

Every evening, he returned with a full haul.

The Philosopher's Stone, once a blood-red gem with a brilliant luster, had now dimmed noticeably.

Dumbledore shook his head, wondering just how much gold this child needed to create before he was satisfied.

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"Perhaps I should stop him."

"If I let him keep this up, he might never be able to pull himself away."

The old Headmaster stroked his long silver beard, a complex glimmer in his blue eyes.

Just as Dumbledore was about to lose his patience, Charlie came to the Eighth Floor of the castle on his own that day.

The stone steps gave a faint echo beneath his feet.

Charlie stopped in front of the Headmaster's Office door, studying the Gargoyle at the entrance.

The ugly stone creature remained motionless, its eyes shut tight.

Charlie tentatively knocked on the door.

Thump, thump, thump.

The Gargoyle opened its eyes and hopped aside.

The stone wall behind it slowly parted, revealing a spiral staircase leading upward.

Charlie followed the stairs up.

The circular room was filled with a faint magical aura.

On the desk sat all sorts of peculiar silver instruments, humming and puffing white smoke.

The walls were covered in portraits—some dozing, others curiously observing this uninvited guest.

Behind the desk, the battered Sorting Hat sat crookedly on a stand.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk, holding a document in his hands.

Seeing Charlie enter, he set down the Parchment and offered a warm smile.

"Mr. White, please have a seat."

Dumbledore waved his Wand, and a chair slid automatically in front of Charlie.

"Would you like some sweets?"

Before Charlie could answer, a plate of delicate candies appeared on the table.

Soft candies in various colors gave off an enticing aroma.

Charlie sat down in the chair, mentally rehearsing his opening line.

"Professor, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Dumbledore, as if he knew nothing, looked at him with keen interest.

"What matter has brought our gifted student all the way here?"

Charlie pulled the warm, red stone from inside his robe and placed it carefully on the table.

The Philosopher's Stone glimmered faintly in the candlelight, noticeably dimmer than a few days ago.

Even Dumbledore felt sorry for the Philosopher's Stone—after being squeezed day after day, even the toughest ox couldn't withstand such milking; it was drained dry.

Sorry, Flamel, I didn't take good care of your Philosopher's Stone, letting this little yellow-haired kid get his hands on it.

"I found this in the school."

Charlie's expression was utterly sincere.

"I don't know who it belongs to?"

As he spoke, he casually picked up a Lemon Drop and popped it into his mouth.

The cloying sweetness exploded instantly in his mouth, making him wince.

The candy was so sweet it hurt his teeth; he wanted to spit it out but didn't want to offend Professor Dumbledore.

He discreetly pushed the plate of candies a little farther away.

Dumbledore looked at the Philosopher's Stone on the table, a playful glint in his blue eyes behind his glasses.

"Did you really find it?"

His tone was light, but Charlie keenly caught the deeper implication.

Charlie's heart tightened.

The headmaster clearly knew the Philosopher's Stone had been taken.

But why hadn't he reacted at all?

More importantly, would all the gold I painstakingly saved up be taken back? Wouldn't that make me a total fool?

Charlie kept his face still, continuing to chew on that deadly Lemon Drop.

"Found it, of course."

He blinked, looking innocent.

"On the Fourth Floor corridor. No idea who dropped it."

"But I know you're supposed to return lost things to their owner, so I came to the headmaster for help."

Dumbledore watched him with a smile, feeling quite pleased.

This little fellow had voluntarily turned in the Philosopher's Stone, showing he hadn't been blinded by greed.

Even if the gold he'd conjured over the past few days could have bought half the Ministry of Magic.

"Thank you, Charlie. This is mine."

Dumbledore reached out his hand to take the Stone.

But Charlie suddenly pulled it back, quick as a flash.

Dumbledore's hand froze in midair.

"What's wrong?"

Charlie looked at him with a strange glint in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Professor, I found something so important of yours and came all the way here to return it."

He paused, a hint of mischief in his tone.

"A big headmaster like you isn't going to just let that slide, is he?"

His gaze seemed to say: If you don't give a reward, you're just a stingy old man.

Dumbledore was taken aback.

Who said this brat wasn't greedy?

Mammon, the God of Greed, probably had Charlie tattooed on his back.

Dumbledore began to regret observing Charlie.

Wouldn't it have been better to just take the Stone back from the start?

Now he was clearly being shaken down, and he had to pretend he didn't notice a thing.

A trace of helplessness flickered in the old headmaster's blue eyes.

The words of thanks were already out; backing down now would just seem petty.

"So, Mr. White, what reward would you like?"

Charlie grinned.

"Professor, is there any way to carry a large amount of space on me?"

Dumbledore understood at once.

Charlie wanted to keep all that gold on his person.

"There is." Dumbledore nodded.

"The Undetectable Extension Charm can expand an enclosed space, giving an ordinary trunk a vast area inside."

Charlie's eyes lit up, but he quickly calmed down.

There was no such thing as a free lunch, and a sly old fox like Dumbledore would definitely have conditions.

"However, if you want my help, you'll need to agree to one condition."

Just as I thought.

Charlie didn't agree right away, instead asking.

"Professor, tell me the condition first."

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, his expression turning serious.

"When you're safe, if you have the ability, I hope you'll lend a hand to Harry when necessary."

Charlie blinked.

This condition caught him off guard.

He'd expected Dumbledore to ask him to study hard, or to limit the gold he conjured from the Stone.

But just helping Harry?

Charlie smiled.

"Harry is my friend. For a friend, I'm happy to help."

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.

"Applying an Undetectable Extension Charm to an object without authorization is illegal, so I'll need to go to the Ministry of Magic to register and review it first. It'll take a few days."

"I understand." Charlie said it was no problem.

After all, the gold was buried there and wasn't going anywhere.

And since Dumbledore had agreed, he wouldn't go back on his word.

With the matter settled, Charlie stood up to take his leave.

When he reached the door, he suddenly turned back.

"Professor, your candy is way too sweet. Eating that much sugar isn't good for your health."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Don't take away an old man's last indulgence."

Charlie shrugged, pushed the door open, and left.

The stone steps echoed faintly under his feet. Charlie was in a good mood.

He'd handed over the Philosopher's Stone, but he'd gotten his perks too.

A chest made with the Undetectable Extension Charm—it'd be a lot more convenient for storing gold from now on.

In the office, Dumbledore watched Charlie's retreating figure, a thoughtful smile on his face.

The reason he'd agreed to Charlie's request was partly because he hoped Charlie could help Harry at a critical moment.

Charlie's strength had already far surpassed his peers, even rivaling that of graduates.

Having a friend like that by his side would make Harry much safer when facing danger.

On the other hand, he also had a good opinion of Charlie.

Sure, the kid liked taking advantage of others, was lazy, hated studying, had a sharp tongue, and loved to mess with people.

But the fact that he voluntarily returned the Philosopher's Stone proved the strength of his character.

Faced with a legendary treasure, with endless wealth and eternal life, to willingly hand it over instead of hiding it away for himself—how strong did one's heart have to be?

After all, how many adult Wizards in history had failed to resist the temptation of the Philosopher's Stone?

And Charlie was just an eleven-year-old boy.

"An interesting little fellow."

Dumbledore picked up the Philosopher's Stone from the table, feeling its dim Magic Power.

Several days of continuous use had left this legendary gem exhausted.

But it would recover after a period of rest, so it wasn't a big problem.