Chapter One: The Boy and the Pokeball
"If you walk out that door don't even think about coming back!" Uncle Vernon shouted angrily. "Such an ungrateful brat. We take you in and put a roof over your head and this is how you thank us?"
Young Harry ignored this however, as he had done many times in the past. Though he was clearly uncertain as to the nature of his family's past, he knew that like his father, he was destined to become a Pokemon master. The only clues he had to the true fate of his parents was the lightening bolt scar on his head, and the pokedex given to him for his birthday.
Harry put one foot at a time up against the stairwell, tying his boots tightly and then made his way for the door. For a moment he just stood there, with his hands on the knob, waiting, wondering if his only remaining family would even bother to say good-bye to him.
"You really don't care, do you?" He said finally, without looking back.
"No one cares for a pathetic little runt like yourself." Uncle Vernon replied, snickering as if it were the funniest thing in the world to tell an eleven-year-old that he was worthless. "I'll be surprised if you can even catch a single pokemon. Though I bet you'll turn up dead before you even reach Windward Falls."
A lump formed in Harry's throat, though it shouldn't have surprised him too much. Without so much as a glance back he opened the door and left the house to see the professor.
* * *
Sortingville was a small town with a quaint population of around five hundred people. The few shops, the local school, and the Professor's Pokemon laboratory were the only real attractions to the place.
Until his eleventh birthday, Harry rarely had any freedoms outside the house. When his Uncle and Aunt found him on the door of the steps as a baby, they made his life a living hell. Whenever one of them wasn't spoiling his fat load of a cousin Dudley, they were reminding him of how ungrateful he was, and how his parents wasted their lives catching, battling, and studying pokemon. Of course, Aunt Petunia's story of how they died was that they foolishly came upon a nest of Teddyursa's and were instantly mauled to death. But that didn't explain the scar on his forehead, and unfortunately, no one else would.
The dark haired boy with the round wire glasses came upon the laboratory, which was built near the river. Beautiful trees surrounded the three-mile perimeter of the two-story building, and as Harry walked along the flat stone walkway he could see the professor's assistants training, studying, and sometimes just playing with pokemon. In the garden, which encircled the laboratory with a stunning display of color and fragrances, Squirtles and Totodiles could be seen watering the flowers while Grass Pokemon of many varieties playfully danced in their streams.
The sight was enough to remind Harry that a world of possibility lay before him, even if his family had disowned him.
"Ah, Harry!" A familiar voice shouted from across the field.
Harry looked over to see a large, round man with a full black beard dressed in an oversized lab coat, followed by a Growlithe. Hagrid, one of Harry's only friends in this town, and a lover of the most dangerous Pokemon out there. Fang bounded up to Harry and knocked him to the grass, licking him playfully.
"All right Fang, that's enough," Hagrid said sternly. The black and orange Fire Pokemon returned to Hagrid's side and sat down obediently. "I can't believe young Potter is about to start his Pokemon journey all ready. And only yesterday I was holdin' you in me arms and thinking how proud your mum and dad will be."
Harry took the hand Hagrid offered and climbed to his feet. With a warm and friendly smile he said, "Hagrid, you know I'll always remember you. But if I don't leave this town I may never know what this life has in store for me."
"Aye," Hagrid responded, wiping a tear from his eye. "Nevertheless, it's rare to see a young man off on his birthday. So I wanted to give you something that no other trainer will see for quite some time."
Hagrid reached into one of the coat pockets and pulled out a chromium-plated device with a watch, a tiny digital screen, and slots for the standard operation cards. There were several small buttons along the bottom of the screen, each for a different function of the device, and a Velcro strap was attached to the bottom so it could fit comfortably over the wrist.
"It's a Pokegear!" Harry said, amazed. Whenever he could read up on the latest technology used by trainers, Harry always stumbled across the newly fashioned Pokegear wrist computers. They could be watches radios, televisions, communicators, and maps all in one and there were endless possibilities for improvements.
"But not just any Pokegear," Hagrid said, gently strapping it onto Harry's left wrist. "This is a brand new model, which I've dubbed the Firebolt. Not only can you use it to communicate and maps but this particular Pokegear is also equipped with a flashlight that can be adjusted to five levels of brightness, and a built in pokedex. When these beauties are released to the public, them old pokedex's will be a thing of the past. Now you get to be the first trainer ever to use the Firebolt."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." Harry marveled at the cool reflective color of the Pokegear and was amazed by the three-dimensional quality of the map.
"No there's no more time to waste. Professor Ollivander has all ready sorted the other new trainers, now it's your turn. Good luck Harry, and never lose courage." With that, Hagrid took one final look at the boy he'd come to love, and went back to the field to play with Fang.
* * *
The Sorting Hat program scanned the information garnered from Harry's personal file. It would go through the file, and find the starter Pokemon compatible with each trainer.
A new backpack lay at Harry's feet, and it contained provisions for the long trip, a few pokeballs, a sleeping bag and changes of clothing. All of these were part of the gift package that the townspeople put together for all of the trainers. It was a nice thing for them to do, especially since Harry didn't have much to begin with.
Finally the Sorting Hat program found a compatible pokemon, and from the whole in the center of the flat tabletop-like surface, a red and white pokeball popped up. The ball opened up and out popped a yellow mouse pokemon with a tail shaped like a lightening bolt, and three red stripes down the back.
"Pikachu," The new Pokedex explained. "An electric mouse pokemon. Very rarely is a trainer likely to start with this pokemon, because of the extreme difficulty involved in taming it."
Pikachu glanced at Harry and instantly turned its nose up. Harry was confused, but not as confused as when Ollivander came in and saw what the Sorting Hat program chose for him.
"Curious," the old man said, scratching his chin. "Very curious."
"What do you mean?"
"As your Pokedex explained, Pikachu is a rare Pokemon to start off with, and with good reason. In the years I've run this laboratory, I know for a fact that only one other trainer in all of the Hogwarts League has ever been given a Pikachu for his starting Pokemon. One trainer. The path you take should prove an interesting one indeed, when the one who came from this very town less than a half a century ago gave you that scar."
Those words were burned into Harry's thoughts as he offered Pikachu a cookie from the backpack.
"Pikachu!" Pikachu shouted with delight as it sniffed the cookie. Apparently chocolate chip was its favorite.
"Pikachu, do you want to come with me?" Harry asked his new friend. "I won't force you, but I'd like to become your friend."
Pikachu gobbled the cookie and leapt into Harry's arm unexpectedly. It seemed as though this was the easier part of the journey.
"Remember Harry," Ollivander said as he escorted the boy to the exit. "We are in control of our destiny's. Let your heart tell you what is right, and what is wrong."
And with that last sentiment, Harry took the path along side the river, unsure if he would ever see Sortingville again, and for the first time in his life, afraid of what the future might hold.
"If you walk out that door don't even think about coming back!" Uncle Vernon shouted angrily. "Such an ungrateful brat. We take you in and put a roof over your head and this is how you thank us?"
Young Harry ignored this however, as he had done many times in the past. Though he was clearly uncertain as to the nature of his family's past, he knew that like his father, he was destined to become a Pokemon master. The only clues he had to the true fate of his parents was the lightening bolt scar on his head, and the pokedex given to him for his birthday.
Harry put one foot at a time up against the stairwell, tying his boots tightly and then made his way for the door. For a moment he just stood there, with his hands on the knob, waiting, wondering if his only remaining family would even bother to say good-bye to him.
"You really don't care, do you?" He said finally, without looking back.
"No one cares for a pathetic little runt like yourself." Uncle Vernon replied, snickering as if it were the funniest thing in the world to tell an eleven-year-old that he was worthless. "I'll be surprised if you can even catch a single pokemon. Though I bet you'll turn up dead before you even reach Windward Falls."
A lump formed in Harry's throat, though it shouldn't have surprised him too much. Without so much as a glance back he opened the door and left the house to see the professor.
* * *
Sortingville was a small town with a quaint population of around five hundred people. The few shops, the local school, and the Professor's Pokemon laboratory were the only real attractions to the place.
Until his eleventh birthday, Harry rarely had any freedoms outside the house. When his Uncle and Aunt found him on the door of the steps as a baby, they made his life a living hell. Whenever one of them wasn't spoiling his fat load of a cousin Dudley, they were reminding him of how ungrateful he was, and how his parents wasted their lives catching, battling, and studying pokemon. Of course, Aunt Petunia's story of how they died was that they foolishly came upon a nest of Teddyursa's and were instantly mauled to death. But that didn't explain the scar on his forehead, and unfortunately, no one else would.
The dark haired boy with the round wire glasses came upon the laboratory, which was built near the river. Beautiful trees surrounded the three-mile perimeter of the two-story building, and as Harry walked along the flat stone walkway he could see the professor's assistants training, studying, and sometimes just playing with pokemon. In the garden, which encircled the laboratory with a stunning display of color and fragrances, Squirtles and Totodiles could be seen watering the flowers while Grass Pokemon of many varieties playfully danced in their streams.
The sight was enough to remind Harry that a world of possibility lay before him, even if his family had disowned him.
"Ah, Harry!" A familiar voice shouted from across the field.
Harry looked over to see a large, round man with a full black beard dressed in an oversized lab coat, followed by a Growlithe. Hagrid, one of Harry's only friends in this town, and a lover of the most dangerous Pokemon out there. Fang bounded up to Harry and knocked him to the grass, licking him playfully.
"All right Fang, that's enough," Hagrid said sternly. The black and orange Fire Pokemon returned to Hagrid's side and sat down obediently. "I can't believe young Potter is about to start his Pokemon journey all ready. And only yesterday I was holdin' you in me arms and thinking how proud your mum and dad will be."
Harry took the hand Hagrid offered and climbed to his feet. With a warm and friendly smile he said, "Hagrid, you know I'll always remember you. But if I don't leave this town I may never know what this life has in store for me."
"Aye," Hagrid responded, wiping a tear from his eye. "Nevertheless, it's rare to see a young man off on his birthday. So I wanted to give you something that no other trainer will see for quite some time."
Hagrid reached into one of the coat pockets and pulled out a chromium-plated device with a watch, a tiny digital screen, and slots for the standard operation cards. There were several small buttons along the bottom of the screen, each for a different function of the device, and a Velcro strap was attached to the bottom so it could fit comfortably over the wrist.
"It's a Pokegear!" Harry said, amazed. Whenever he could read up on the latest technology used by trainers, Harry always stumbled across the newly fashioned Pokegear wrist computers. They could be watches radios, televisions, communicators, and maps all in one and there were endless possibilities for improvements.
"But not just any Pokegear," Hagrid said, gently strapping it onto Harry's left wrist. "This is a brand new model, which I've dubbed the Firebolt. Not only can you use it to communicate and maps but this particular Pokegear is also equipped with a flashlight that can be adjusted to five levels of brightness, and a built in pokedex. When these beauties are released to the public, them old pokedex's will be a thing of the past. Now you get to be the first trainer ever to use the Firebolt."
"Thank you. Thank you so much." Harry marveled at the cool reflective color of the Pokegear and was amazed by the three-dimensional quality of the map.
"No there's no more time to waste. Professor Ollivander has all ready sorted the other new trainers, now it's your turn. Good luck Harry, and never lose courage." With that, Hagrid took one final look at the boy he'd come to love, and went back to the field to play with Fang.
* * *
The Sorting Hat program scanned the information garnered from Harry's personal file. It would go through the file, and find the starter Pokemon compatible with each trainer.
A new backpack lay at Harry's feet, and it contained provisions for the long trip, a few pokeballs, a sleeping bag and changes of clothing. All of these were part of the gift package that the townspeople put together for all of the trainers. It was a nice thing for them to do, especially since Harry didn't have much to begin with.
Finally the Sorting Hat program found a compatible pokemon, and from the whole in the center of the flat tabletop-like surface, a red and white pokeball popped up. The ball opened up and out popped a yellow mouse pokemon with a tail shaped like a lightening bolt, and three red stripes down the back.
"Pikachu," The new Pokedex explained. "An electric mouse pokemon. Very rarely is a trainer likely to start with this pokemon, because of the extreme difficulty involved in taming it."
Pikachu glanced at Harry and instantly turned its nose up. Harry was confused, but not as confused as when Ollivander came in and saw what the Sorting Hat program chose for him.
"Curious," the old man said, scratching his chin. "Very curious."
"What do you mean?"
"As your Pokedex explained, Pikachu is a rare Pokemon to start off with, and with good reason. In the years I've run this laboratory, I know for a fact that only one other trainer in all of the Hogwarts League has ever been given a Pikachu for his starting Pokemon. One trainer. The path you take should prove an interesting one indeed, when the one who came from this very town less than a half a century ago gave you that scar."
Those words were burned into Harry's thoughts as he offered Pikachu a cookie from the backpack.
"Pikachu!" Pikachu shouted with delight as it sniffed the cookie. Apparently chocolate chip was its favorite.
"Pikachu, do you want to come with me?" Harry asked his new friend. "I won't force you, but I'd like to become your friend."
Pikachu gobbled the cookie and leapt into Harry's arm unexpectedly. It seemed as though this was the easier part of the journey.
"Remember Harry," Ollivander said as he escorted the boy to the exit. "We are in control of our destiny's. Let your heart tell you what is right, and what is wrong."
And with that last sentiment, Harry took the path along side the river, unsure if he would ever see Sortingville again, and for the first time in his life, afraid of what the future might hold.