A:N - Some things I should clarify before we begin. Firstly, there is no magic in this story. To a certain extent, it has been replaced by the Pokemon themselves. Most main characters from both series will appear, many as rival trainers, among other people. Voldemort still exists, as does Giovanni. Team Rocket will not be appearing continuously as they do in the anime, but in a more intelligent fashion. The main characters are not ten, for obvious reasons. For sake of clarity, they will be seventeen when they finally begin to explore Kanto, the age of adulthood in the Wizarding World. This is not a story regarding slash, so don't be worried if you normally would be. I already have the issue regarding Misty and Brock as companions resolved, so please don't spam me with messages asking. You'll find out soon enough - promise.

For sake of imagination, I tend to view the Pokemon as I would normally, even though this is a 'real' story, and not anime, as such. It's strange, but whatever works for you personally. I am currently in university and have another story to work on also, so updates may be slow at times. Apologies in advance if this is the case. I don't beg or even ask for reviews, but feel free if that's your forte.

Please, enjoy.

Chapter One – Enter Hogwarts

"Hogwarts, school for Pokémon trainers, be they beginner or advanced. The school employs a devoted staff, who aid their students in the various arts essential for the day-to-day Pokémon trainer. These include Battle Arts, Theory of Evolution, Herbs and Potions, and many others alike. Each subject is headed by a different professor, all of whom excel in their particular art. These people are also dedicated trainers, however, and many hold the position of gym leader.

"As you all know, eight gym badges from the Kanto region are required to access the Indigo League, and whilst many trainers will invariably collect these from gyms of their own choosing, it is not unheard of to challenge a teacher in this regard. Be warned: they are among the most experienced trainers in the world, and no one has successfully defeated the required eight in over fifty years. Professors, like all gym leaders, are required to accept every challenge, but we strongly advise you to not do so lightly. You will need a lot of skill, experience and fortitude to defeat even one, let alone all eight.

"Each of you has been sorted into a particular house for the duration. You listed one out of four traits in which you excel, and we have placed you into the appropriate company. Nevertheless, this does not define the wholeness of your character, and we fully hope you will embrace the philosophy of all four simultaneously, as any true master is wont to do. Each house is headed by a professor, who you should contact if you encounter difficulties in your studies, or in any area whatsoever.

"You have chosen to be here, so I do not believe it necessary to say class attendance is mandatory. If you flunk regularly, we may see fit to give your position to a more deserving candidate, and that is no idle threat. It has happened before, and sadly, I believe it may happen again."

Professor Dumbledore paused in his long-winded speech for a sip of water, which caused Malfoy to yawn loudly.

Harry turned and shot him an annoyed look. He really didn't understand such disdain. This was what they had all been waiting for – training to become a true Pokémon master. Every boy and girl present, all sixteen years of age, had opted to study at the finest school on the entire continent for budding trainers. It was an institution fraught with stringent qualities and strict standards, ones which all were required to adhere to without fault.

No cruelty to Pokémon was easily the most important, Harry knew. Pokémon were beloved companions, not wild animals to be tortured or mistreated in any way. He knew, as all did, the horrible tales of Team Rocket and other such organisations, monsters that delighted in stealing Pokémon and using them for profit. He had yet to meet one, but the very idea repulsed him to no end.

He currently sat alongside his best friend, Ash Ketchum. Both boys hailed from the town of Pallet, as did Gary Oak and Draco Malfoy, one who had moved there only a few years previously. Draco was perhaps the most stuck-up, narcissistic and arrogant person Harry had ever met. After only a few weeks, even Gary had seen the light.

"Bloody hell," he had said. "If that's the way I always seem to you guys, I think I need to grow up a little."

And in truth, Malfoy was a pompous arse. He delighted in ordering around his parents' collection of Mr. Mime, and had no problem with using his badly trained Growlithe to torment people with its incessant howling and damaging gardens. He hadn't one friend, save Pansy Parkinson, a haughty girl with a face like the Grimer she owned.

Speaking of first Pokémon, Harry smiled at that fond memory, only now a month old. Obtaining a starter exactly thirty days before Hogwarts opened was tradition in some parts of Kanto, with Pallet Town being no exception. Harry had grown up with Ash, and knew his tendency to become overexcited when it came to Pokémon. It was a big occasion, and he had known the importance of reminding his friend not to oversleep. Repeatedly throughout the week before. Eighty seven times in total, he knew for a fact.

And what had he done?

Why, oversleep, of course. Harry would have woken him, but his mother firmly insisted otherwise. She was only joking, of course, hoping to see the horrified look on his face. She couldn't have known the price he almost had to pay. There were only supposed to be three, of course, and Ash had been promised one by their experienced neighbour, Professor Oak.

Gary had already chosen Charmander, claiming that his new and fiery attitude deserved a Pokémon to match its vigour. Harry had grinned at that, playfully stating he would be extinguishing that fire before long, and promptly chose Squirtle. Of course, he would have done so anyway, seeing as how he desired a Blastoise for easy transport across water, and knowing how said water may be very important out in the wild, but it was still gratifying to wipe the smug look off of Gary's face, even if it was no longer a pretentious one.

Then Malfoy had arrived, thrusting his face upwards in a guise of superiority, claiming that Growlithe was not his, but had belonged to his father. He thus demanded a Pokémon of his very own, and Professor Oak, clearly both annoyed and yet slumped in resignation, allowed him to take the third and final Pokémon, Bulbasaur. Malfoy had, in a metaphorical way, vomited all over their parade. As he strode away, Harry was tempted to ask Gary if his Charmander could ignite the prat's waxed hair, but stopped short as he realised Ash would be heartbroken.

And he had been, until Professor Oak produced a fourth pokéball, which contained the electric mouse Pokémon, Pikachu. Its personality, to include a terrible usage of puns, was simply shocking. Harry felt like his insides would never stop tingling painfully after the first time Ash had tried to pick the nervous creature up, and it zapped everybody in the vicinity.

After that had come a month of getting to know their Pokémon, a period in which the trio revelled the newfound responsibility with something akin to gluttony. Gary had always said he would travel alone, simply because he believed in personal challenges and overcoming them alone to improve as a trainer, whereas Ash and Harry had always planned to venture around Kanto together. After that they would set their sights on the mysterious Johto, Hoenn and every other region known to man.

But first, they were here to have the basics nailed down. Set out in stone, as it were. A group of some thirty young people occupied four large tables in a huge, cavernous great hall, although there were a few dozen advanced students as well. Routine was for each person to transgress one year at Hogwarts, after turning sixteen, and then allowing them to choose an advanced course if desired. The older pupils would most likely become researchers, breeders or Pokémon doctors, among other things. The entire room felt partially mismatched, but perhaps that was the point – to show the youngsters they were only a small part of such a huge, open and diverse world, one filled with wonder and spectacle.

"Most of you have different Pokémon with which to begin your journey," Dumbledore continued. "You have, for the most part, opted for one particular species, but that is nothing more than 'to each their own'. Each Pokémon has various strengths and weaknesses, but you will learn about those during your studies. I only say it now because of the great forest along the outside of this equally great school. In it are dozens of Pokémon, some willing to prove themselves in front of any trainer, and others very tricky to catch.

"As students, you have open access to this forest, but you will be accompanied by a professor for the first few weeks, in an attempt to ensure there is no danger. As an additional precaution, there is a specially designed compass for each of you to be given. This compass acts as a locator, pointing only towards the school grounds, and not north. Flying Pokémon will also be of an advantage if you find yourself lost, so I strongly advise you to capture one as soon as possible, if you so wish.

"The hospital ward is open to all students and Pokémon. If your Pokémon is injured, we strongly advise you to recall it as soon as possible. Pokémon enter a state of hibernation when resting in their pokéball, so they will be safe for a period of time, although they will not heal from any serious injuries without medical attention.

"There is a duelling club for any who wish to battle each other, but it is expressly prohibited to battle one another in class, in an area that may cause danger, or when the other trainer declines the challenge. This is known as 'intimidation' or even 'assault', and will be punished by immediate suspension, with expulsion on the table if the offence is serious enough.

"And before I ask the Mr. Mime to enter with the opening feast, a word of advice."

Another? Harry thought, a little cheekily.

"Hogwarts is a school for those who are most serious about the noble creatures known as Pokémon; it is not to be trifled with, laden down by troublemakers, or stricken with tomfoolery. That being said, there are mysteries embedded into the school itself. We have a large population of ghost Pokémon, so I implore you not to be alarmed by our moving portraits and illusions of spirits, both of which occur when they are feeling particularly playful. They are not dangerous – if they were then their presence would not be tolerated – but I ask you to show them respect, and they shall do the same."

With that, Dumbledore turned to the Mr. Mime at the side of the hall, and politely nodded. The unusual, clown-like creature inclined its head, seemingly in an understanding manner, and promptly shut its eyes. Harry knew psychic Pokémon had a mysterious way in which they could communicate, so it was breathtaking to see it occur in person at long last. The Mr. Mime, smiling, glowed a pearly blue colour, and ripples of telepathic power seemed to crackle throughout the surrounding air.

On cue, several round openings in the ceramic floor presented themselves, and dozens of food platters and drinks began to levitate upwards at a rapid pace, before arching out and emblazoning themselves upon the quartet of dining tables. It was a showcase of power Harry had never before seen, and it was truly awe-inspiring to behold. The speed in which the food began to appear was matched only by the precision of the ability controlling its flight, as not one morsel of food was wasted through carelessness.

Ash had Pikachu at his side, the little yellow Pokémon bearing its rare, astonished expression, with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth.

"Pika..."

Harry smiled at that. It had taken a few days, but eventually Ash had gotten Pikachu to trust him, although it wouldn't enter a pokéball under any circumstances, it soon transpired. For Harry, Squirtle was much less difficulty. Perhaps that was because Harry had spent much of his life studying Pokémon from afar and reading books about their physiology, mental states, and how to raise them efficiently. He therefore displayed the tact of a reasonably experienced trainer, a characteristic Squirtle immediately identified with. They truly were very intelligent creatures. Ash tried to emulate him, but simply didn't like reading all that much.

Battling was a different matter altogether. The two friends had sworn that, short of an official tournament or leisurely practice session, they would never pit their companions against each other. Therefore, as Gary had kept mostly to himself and Harry wouldn't challenge Malfoy without it becoming a flat-out grudge match, he had been resigned to mock training sessions, as it were. Squirtle may spend time practicing its agility in dodging Pikachu's sporadic thunder attacks, which would also allow Pikachu itself to increase both endurance and accuracy. At other times, Squirtle would use water gun, and the process would be reversed.

So it went, for the whole month.

Harry gently called Squirtle out, and passed his friend a platter of specially prepared meatballs. He hadn't caught anything else yet – that was statutory. Beginner trainers were forbidden to be given additional pokéballs until they arrived at Hogwarts (or the centre of their choice). After all, if they couldn't even raise one Pokémon for a lone month, how could they care for a much larger number across a very wide span of time? It made perfect sense.

Whilst they were feasting on a huge selection of mouth-watering dishes, conversation tended to flitter between random people across the table. They all sat reasonably close together, leaving a substantial space between the advanced students quite a bit away.

"So, Ron, that's a nice Rattata you have there," Ash observed fondly.

Ron grinned happily and patted the purple rodent on the back of its head, drawing a satisfied exclamation in doing so. It looked well-fed, well cared-for. Ron clearly knew what he was doing.

"Thanks. Your Pikachu looks great as well," he replied earnestly, inclining his head.

"So, I see you like water Pokémon," Hermione observed.

"Oh, definitely!" the redheaded girl, Misty, replied. "Water Pokémon are my favourite type. I've grown up with them since I was a baby. Do you have a favourite type?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but I really like Pokémon who can be of use outside of battling. That's why I chose Chansey as my starter Pokémon – it's great if you ever hurt yourself or can't reach a centre in time."

Harry frowned. "All Pokémon are useful, though. Electric Pokémon can power disabled generators and appliances. Ground, fighting and rock types can help with building work and heavy lifting. Fires can be used if you're cold but have no access to internal heating... really, I could go on."

Hermione shrugged. "I know, and I hope I can capture as many as possible, but Chansey is very rare by itself," she said fondly, scratching behind its ears with a wide smile. "I'm very lucky I got one in the first place, right, girl?"

"Chansey!"

Harry half-raised a goblet to that. "I can't fault that logic. Ash and I plan to travel the regions, so I thought a water type would be useful if we're ever far from a stream, among other things."

"Does that mean you're leaving after the year is over?" Hermione asked, frowning.

Harry nodded. "There's too much to see and do out there. There are hundreds of Pokémon in the world, with one hundred and forty nine in Kanto alone. Capturing that many, especially legendary species like Articuno and Moltres, will take a lot of time."

"What about an advanced course, like medicine?" Ron asked.

"That can wait. I don't see the point in staying here when you haven't properly experienced what it means to be a trainer. We can always come back if we need to," Ash said simply.

"You speak like you're reading each others' thoughts," Misty said, giggling a little.

Both friends looked at each other, before shrugging simultaneously.

"Ash's parents raised me," Harry said lowly. "Mum and dad were killed fifteen years ago, and I have no other family. We're like brothers."

"And have no shame in admitting it," Ash grinned, winking at Misty, who promptly blushed as red as her hair.

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents, Harry," said a round-faced boy, Neville. "I lost mine as well. Gran takes care of me now."

Harry nodded slowly. "Likewise to you."

"Thanks."

"Watch out, here comes Mr. Stick-up-his-backside," Gary muttered from across the table, causing Harry to choke on his drink of water in a fit of laughter.

"Good evening, trainers," Malfoy said with an audible sneer as he strode over towards them. Those who didn't know him looked up at the voice, whilst the trio of boys from Pallet chose to ignore the incessant ponce.

"Hello, my name's Hermione-"

"I didn't give you permission to speak, chipmunk," he venomously spat.

Harry sighed, throwing down his knife and fork. "Malfoy, what the hell is your problem? She was only introducing herself. You don't have to be a complete dickhead about it."

"Language, Potter, or I might have Bulbasaur squeeze it out of you," Malfoy smirked.

"Take your best shot," Harry growled, joined in the effort by Squirtle, and the entire collection of Pokémon present. The creatures were excellent at smelling both trouble and its arbiters, and they knew that to trust this boy was to carve one's own headstone for all self-respect.

"Maybe later, when the teachers aren't around to save you," Malfoy threatened, before stalking off.

Harry cast a glance towards the high table. None of the teachers had moved, but a few chose to cast curious and somewhat suspicious glances down towards the altercation. That in itself had deterred Malfoy, but he would be back.

"What was his problem?" Hermione hissed furiously, reddening in anger.

"He's a pretentious loser who enjoys tormenting other people," Gary said succinctly, shrugging. "We're used to him by now, so I guess he wants some new targets. Be careful."

"He just came over here, and... and insulted me for no reason," Hermione said, aghast. "Is he royalty or something like that?"

Ash scoffed at that. "Yeah, he wishes. Don't give him any excuses, and you'll be fine. Besides, I'm sure your Chansey would whoop his Bulbasaur any time."

Harry had to say something, before his moment of bravado fled. He had always been nervous around girls, so now was as good a time as any to right that wrong. Based on first impression, he liked Hermione. He wanted to get to know her better, but there was nothing wrong with honest flattery.

"And you don't look like a chipmunk. A chipmunk could... could never be that pretty," he stammered, finishing weakly. He spluttered slightly and shot his gaze downwards.

"Squirtle," Squirtle said in an embarrassed manner, scratching its head briefly.

When Harry had the courage to look up again, he saw that Hermione had returned to eating, but bore a smile bright enough to light Viridian Forest on a cold, winter's night. He smiled to himself, pleased, and rolled his eyes at Squirtle, who patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Smooth," Gary smirked. "Really – very subtle."

"Shut up," Harry muttered.

Ash smirked internally as he decided to inspect the crop of teachers present. He wanted to be taught by the very best, and he recognised a few of the people from Harry's books. Professor Snape led the House of Slytherin, as well as Potions. He was an expert in the poison type, and his expression seemed to match that particular trait. McGonagall was the teacher of Theory of Evolution, and his own Head of House. Apparently she used normal types, which could pose a problem for anyone who decided to challenge her without a variation of Pokémon.

Flitwick, a tiny man in stature, was huge in reputation. He had won the Indigo League many years ago, and successfully defeated Kanto's Elite Four sometime afterwards. Ash knew he preferred mysterious Pokémon, although he couldn't guess what that might entail. Legendaries, perhaps. Professor Sprout was an enthusiast of grass Pokémon, teaching the Herbs half of his double-edged class. He knew little about her.

Quirrell was temporary, but as the teacher of Battle Arts, he was still a gym leader. The teachers of this class were entirely unpredictable, but it was rumoured they used fighting types. That sounded clichéd thanks to the course name, but it was entirely plausible. After that, he could place very few faces, and had no idea what Pokémon Professor Dumbledore may have used. All he knew was that they must have been very powerful for him to be called the only living 'Master' in all of Kanto.

Sometime later, Dumbledore rose to his feet, awaiting silence. The students quickly complied, really too exhausted to do much otherwise. Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling above his peculiar half-moon spectacles.

"Thank you all for appreciating the hard work, and delicious results, I may add, of our Mr. Mime. There will be a short, introductory meeting tomorrow with your Heads of House, but for now, I think everyone is quite pooped. If I could please ask the older students to lead you back to your dormitories?" Said pupils rose to their feet, rather wearily. "Thank you."

Harry recalled Squirtle, eyes beginning to glaze over. He desperately wanted to sleep, but at the same time needed to walk beforehand. The agony of choice was palpable!

"Walk first... sleep... later... hopefully ask Hermione out."

Misty giggled, and Harry gulped as he realised he had said that out loud. Thankfully, no one else had heard, but Misty still grinned at him in a knowing manner. Harry blushed.

"You know, Ash is single," he retorted playfully.

She blushed in turn, not for the first time, and Harry immediately spotted the crush. He could hardly wait to tease Ash all day tomorrow, provided he didn't get Pikachu to shock him.

A:N - Obviously I'll add more detail to 'everything' in the upcoming chapters. This acts as the groundwork more than anything, and I didn't feel it wise or necessary to electrocute you with a mountain of data. Sorry about that. I know it was a terrible pun.

Peace out for now.