This is a rewrite of the original 'Fire and Iron', which itself is based on 'Harry Potter and the Master's Ball' by Mr. Chaos. I absolutely love his series, and while mine follows along rather faithfully, there will definitely be differences. This is, after all, a series mixing Marvel, How To Train Your Dragon, Harry Potter, and Pokemon together into one universe.

I got the Avengers' Pokemon from Poke-'Vengers by feriowind, which is also fantastic and worth a look, though I am re-imagining most of them (barring Thor and Bruce) younger to fit into the Pokemon universe's habit of starting young.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new start. See you at the end.^^

Twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing To Death, sits a series of mountainous islands known as the Valhalla region.

Here is where the Vikings of old-and their slightly more reasonable descendants-made a home hundreds of years ago, building their villages into the mountainsides like clinging barnacles.

So it was strange to discover that every structure on every island on this chain was brand new…

Until you realized that this region was home to not only Viking warriors, but the most dangerous type of Pokemon in the world.

Dragons.

The ground shook as a herd of massive bodies landed upon it, wooden walls trembling, firelight flickering and roaring as thatch roofs were greedily devoured by bluish flame in the darkness.

Hillevi squeaked as she shut the door on a Salamence's Flamethrower, ducking away as the wood cracked violently under the sudden heat.

"Sharpshot! Meatlug!"

The Charmander roared in response, leaping onto her trainer's shoulder as the Aron dove in front of her, vibrating with a low growl at the threat.

With a deep breath, heart hammering against her ribs like the heavy footsteps of the Dragon-types outside, Hillevi steeled her spine, gold flaring in dark green irises.

Shoving through the doorway, she ran into the chaos beyond, Meatlug right on her heels.

Red flames burst against blue in a fireworks display of sparks, and Sharpshot roared a challenge, holding tight to the reddish-brunette's braid for balance.

Dodging between flaming debris and crushed stone, Meatlug barked as she made a sharp left into an alley, and the scrawny Viking leapt after the tiny Steel-type before a rush of dragon-flame filled the main street.

"Not good." Hillevi muttered, adrenaline making her voice tight and shaky as she weaved through damaged alleyways. "Not good. Not good. Not good."

Sharpshot roared a column of flame, red-orange clashing with blue-purple in midair, and Hillevi squeaked as she, somehow, put on another burst of speed.

"Not good!"

The forge had never looked so welcoming, even swarmed by Vikings as it was, and Meatlug forced a path inside with liberal Headbutts.

"There ya are!" Gobber shouted, throwing a bundle of swords into the furnace so Torkoal could heat the metal quickly for repairs. "Thought ya got carried off!"

"Me? Nah!" Hillevi replied with a wobbly laugh, rushing to don her leather apron as Sharpshot joined the older Fire-type at the furnace and Meatlug bounded over to Klinklang. "I'm way too muscular for their tastes! They wouldn't know what to do with all…this."

"They need toothpicks, don't they?" Gobber teased, popping the head off a hammer as she retrieved the heated weapons so he could pound the chips and cracks away on the anvil.

Shoving the forge's old wooden 'doors' open, the reddish-brunette stumbled under the weight of more broken swords and axes, throwing them into the furnace as Sharpshot and Torkoal both double-teamed with Flamethrower.

"Dewgong, Icy Wind!"

A trio of Altaria shrieked as they were driven off-course, and Astrid's axe swung at a retreating Fraxure as her Heracross buzzed around the herd of sheep that had yet to be carried off.

Pangoro and Gurdurr bellowed in unison as they batted away a small herd of Zweilous, and Snorri shouted encouragement as he ducked behind the cows.

Ragnhild and Torleik were arguing-as usual-as they tried rounding up the wayward chickens, Dugtrio popping in and out as a distraction for the attacking Vibrava as Dodrio tried to Peck out their eyes.

Shielding the barrels of salted fish with his body, Folki shouted orders to Shuckle and Carbink, who battered the Shelgon with Gastro Acid and Rock Throw.

Gods, their job was so much cooler…

By the time she was lifted away by the back of her apron, hanging off Gobber's hook, Hillevi had already made her decision to prove herself.

No one could have known how much that one moment would change everything.