Dementors in Little Whinging? Dudley was panicking, and Harry had lost his wand somewhere on the dark ground when Dudley punched him. The wand wasn't that critical for spellcasting, but it did help still with some of the spells popularly regarded as being more difficult. Anyway, he had other options besides his Patronus for fighting off Dementors; his Pokémon could use some real battle experience.
"Haunter! I choose you!" he said confidently, throwing the Pokéball towards the other Dementor.
A ghostly creature popped out, looking halfway between the friendly purple ghostly Pokémon Harry was aiming for, and a Dementor. The unusually small purple-cloaked Dementor had disembodied hands that floated near its body, and theoretically cute big eyes, but still had a very small mouth. It looked creepy and wrong, rather than the cute ghost he'd been trying to achieve all year.
"Haunnnn-ter…" it sighed solemnly. To Harry, and possibly the attacking Dementor, it carried a second meaning. "Flee, flee while you still can."
"Well that's not nice, Haunter," Harry said grumpily. No more working with sentient or magical creatures as the base for his Pokémon. Not unless they volunteered, like Hedwig - she'd been much easier to change than the Dementor he'd caught. It was like the creature's own magic fought back against the changes – they sometimes wore off and it reverted to how it was. The attacking Dementor hesitated, and stopped moving towards him – there was darkness and a horrible chill in the air, but not the despairing panic you felt when they got too close.
"Haunter, haunt haunter," his Pokémon breathed softly into the air. "Flee, before you too are imprisoned and changed like I was."
"That's enough! I'm the trainer here! Use Lick!"
"Haunter." "I obey." It advanced on the other Dementor, tongue poking out of its still tiny mouth, and its opponent fled in uncomprehending fear.
Harry sighed sadly, as he summoned the Haunter back to its Pokéball. It was a difficult situation. He felt kind of bad for experimenting on it. But it was a soul-sucking creature of horror that lived to bring torturous despair to people, and had tried to drink Sirius' soul. It kind of had it coming.
Harry wrote to Sirius about the Dementor attack, and the very next day Sirius showed up to whisk him away to the safety of Grimmauld Place, sure that Voldemort was going to send more Dementors or other minions to attack Harry. Even worse, Harry was clearly having a miserable fun-less time with the Dursleys. He hadn't heard any tales about a single prank. He needed saving.
"Had enough already, hey? I told you that you should have spent the whole holidays with me instead, studying to be an Animagus. You can still work on your present for your girlfriend at my house," Sirius teased. "I won't tell her about it really – that was just teasing. Oh, sorry, I should have said our house. Your room only needs some final touches."
"Th-that's the mass murderer!" his Uncle Vernon stammered in fear. "The one who was on television!"
"Yes, my godfather. Remember I told you about him?"
His uncle looked deeply fearful. "I thought you were making it all up!"
"Murderer," said Sirius.
"What?"
"Just murderer. Not mass murderer. I've only killed one person. Well, maybe three. There were a couple of Death Eaters in the war I got good hits on. I think they might have died later," he mused. "Do you think that qualifies me as a 'mass' murderer? Or is it 'serial killer', because they weren't all at the same time?"
"Take the boy and get out!" yelled his uncle. "Kill him if you want to, just leave the rest of us normal people alone!" Petunia and Dudley fled the house for the relative safety of the shed in the back garden, followed by his uncle.
"What a loving family," Sirius sneered. "Get your things, Harry. You're not ever coming back here. Even my mouldering old house is better than this."
"He's probably gone to get his shotgun," warned Harry.
"Oh, I hope he tries something."
Sirius seemed genuinely disappointed when Harry's uncle just cowered in the shed with the rest of the Dursleys.
"You promised he'd attack me," he whined to Harry.
"I said he might be getting a shotgun. Hagrid broke his last one."
"But I wanted to hex him in 'self-defence'. Oh well, I suppose it's best to keep out of trouble," Sirius sighed. "Look at me, having to be a responsible adult. I'm really not cut out for it, Harry. Alright, let's go then."
*pokemonpokemonpokemon*
Harry loved Divination. After his teacher had tired of predicting his death, which he'd pointed out in Third Year was only a possibility, not a certainty, or there would be no purpose in divinations at all, he and Professor Trelawney had slowly started to get along a lot better. Especially when he'd finally started developing real talent at her subject near the end of last year. He'd been useless at reading tea leaves, and liked crystal balls the best – they just felt like a proper witchy kind of thing you should be able to see the future in. He didn't always see anything, but he caught enough glimpses to impress the heck out of both his teacher and his classmates. Other students had to stick with the curriculum and learn to read Tarot cards and other divinatory methods, but he got to use the crystal ball whenever he wanted to.
In the first class that year, everyone else except Harry settled down to read up on dream interpretation (at least in theory), while he and Trelawney had a first-class-of-the-year competition to see what horrible things they could each see in a crystal ball. Most of the class just ignored their books to watch the byplay, of course. Ron had quickly organised a betting pool and was taking wagers as to whose predictions would come true first.
"I see pink… It's Professor Umbridge. She has a quill – it's cursed! No-one should write with it or they will be scarred forever," he intoned. Lavender and Parvati gasped, and his teacher smiled at him benevolently, and took her turn gazing into the mist-filled crystal ball.
"I see… the Dark Lord!" she pronounced triumphantly. "He seeks your death, Harry Potter!" she pointed dramatically at him. There were gasps and murmurs from his classmates.
"That seems likely," Harry said politely and calmly. "Anything specific?"
His teacher returned her gaze to the crystal ball, peering into it with wide eyes as she waved her hands around it, and breathed deeply of the incense-laden air. "Blood everywhere – your face covered in blood, dripping scarlet everywhere. Secrets causing pain. Death Eaters surrounding you as you stand alone." she shook her head. "That's all I see for now." It sounded like it was going to be a bad year for him – that was even worse than last year's predictions.
"Thank you, Professor. I'll see what I can see for your own future," he said, hoping he could fish for something impressive from the mists of the future, but not too scary. "Pink again. Umbridge causing problems for you, I think. And… a horse? No, a centaur! There's a centaur in your classroom! He sees me – he's looking in my direction! How can he do that?" Some of the girls applauded him as he looked up and blinked, a little tired from the effort of exerting his will so intensely.
"Pika?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he said, scratching his little Pikachu's fur under her chin gently. She made a happy squeaky trill of pleasure.
"Ah, those with the Sight can sometimes see glimpses of those who watch them from the misty past," intoned his teacher dramatically. "And centaurs are often skilled at Divination. No doubt any centaur I invited here as a guest would be remarkably talented."
*pokemonpokemonpokemon*
Pikachu had to go into her Pokéball for DADA, to Harry's disappointment. She preferred being out. "Professor, I appreciate that the Ministry is reluctant to admit that Voldemort looks like an evil snake baby. I'm a little sceptical of it myself, and I saw the thing in person! But why aren't they at least pursuing the person who imprisoned and impersonated Professor Moody?"
His pink-clad teacher smiled as she answered in honeyed tones, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "The Ministry is taking all necessary steps, and you will cease questioning the actions of your superiors at once."
Harry shrugged. Well, Team Rocket never stayed caught either. He'd deal with the man again if and when he popped up. He spent the exceptionally boring class doodling designs of what new Pokémon he might want to work on that year, until Hermione's persistent questioning of their teacher drew his attention. The class was quickly thrown into outright rebellion as they realised they wouldn't be learning a single practical spell. Just theory.
"I never bother with theory anymore," said Harry stubbornly, when it was his turn to say his piece. "Theory is nothing compared to practical exercises. This class is going to be twice the snooze-fest of History of Magic. You have to have practical spellcasting." He got the respect of his peers with that outburst (even from the usually theory-loving Hermione), but a week of detentions from Professor Umbridge for his rudeness.
He spent a boring week writing lines… with his own quill.
"Yours is cursed," he said, not even touching the one she offered. "I foresaw it in a vision."
"You will use the quill I have supplied you!" she insisted.
"Only if you use it first," he said, even more stubbornly. "I foresaw it – it's cursed. You should turn it over to the Ministry for disposal."
"Do you want another week of detentions?"
"Do you want me to report your cursed quill to the Headmaster and the Aurors?"
She hesitated, and let him use his own quill and ink for writing lines. Harry spread the word – his vision was a true one, and no-one should use her quill. He didn't know what it did, but if she was afraid to write with it herself, it had to be something nasty.
Hermione had mellowed enough towards him to ask him to lead a study group for DADA – helping his fellow students learn practical spellcasting.
"No-one's better in our year at Charms and defensive spells than you, Harry," she said humbly. "You could really help people a lot, with a study group."
He really did love practising his spells and duelling practice sounded fantastic, yet he still hesitated over the idea. "I think it's a great idea," he told her, "but as you yourself have pointed out many times, I don't usually bother with the 'correct' wand motions. Or words. Or sometimes even the wand. So I don't think I'll be the best teacher for anyone who doesn't cast spells like I do. Luna's picked up a quite few of my tricks, but she and I have been working together for years now."
"I guess you're right, Harry," she said resignedly.
"You could run it?"
She shrugged. "I'm not really popular enough to get the numbers. I want to reach the most students possible. We can't let people fail Defence due to that odious woman!"
"How about getting the twins to run it?" he suggested.
"Fred and George? Those jokers? You can't be serious."
"You're right, I'm not. That's my godfather."
"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" she said with a small smile.
"Yup!" He snickered at her, shoulders shaking with amusement at his own joke. Sirius had told him it was mandatory to use the pun if someone gave him the opening. "The twin Weasleys might not take life seriously, but they know their stuff. They're awesome at Potions, and almost as good at all kinds of charms, hexes, and jinxes. They have to be, to make the stuff they do. Did you know I'm investing in a joke shop they're going to start when they finish school?"
She shook her head.
"They'll be great. Trust me. I'll join in your study group happily, but only as another student. I wouldn't mind the practice time, but I don't want to lead the group. And of course it'd have to be multi-year, so Luna can come too."
"Fine," she sighed. "I guess the other years will be suffering under that pink toad's teaching too. I'll talk to the twins."
The "Defence Association" as Hermione called it, or "Toad Taunting Team" as the twins and many members called it (both titles were popular), was awesome, even if no-one except Luna, Colin, or Dennis let him use his Pokémon against them in his duels. (The boys' Eevee was going fairly well in appearance though their Transfigurations only lasted a short time so far and it tended to default back to being a brown rabbit, and it didn't know any attacks yet.) And he finally had a Pokéball ready for Luna to bring to the duelling sessions, which he gave to her one sunny afternoon in November.
"Is this…?" she said breathily.
"Yup! Happy Tuesday!"
She tilted her head at him quizzically. "Is it a special Tuesday?"
"Well, it is now. I didn't want to wait for Christmas. And it wasn't ready in time for the start of school. I wanted it to be perfect for you. I'm just sorry it took so long." He put the Pokéball in the palm of her hand, and curled her fingers around it. She gave him a quick kiss, then leapt excitedly to her feet, and threw the ball in the air.
"Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I choose you!" she yelled joyfully.
"Honk! Snorkack!" The creature that emerged from the Pokéball in a beam of light was just like her father's notes described. It was a scaly creature with large glittery purple hexagonal scales a bit like a turtle's shell, a vaguely dragon-like appearance with a wide, giant-nostrilled snout, a single bent-looking horn on its head (spiralling like a unicorn's), and a soft fuzzy belly.
"Oh Snorky," she cooed, hugging it around its neck. "You and I are going to be the best of friends!"
"Snorkack, snork!" it said, then let out another loud honk. "I love you!"
Luna believed she could understand Snork-tongue, so she had no problems mentally translating its snorky language. "I love you too, Snorky," she sniffed through happy tears, hugging it tighter. "And I love you too, Harry," she said, pulling him into the Snorkack's side to hug him as well. It wasn't quite how he'd pictured their first declaration of love going. But it seemed to fit them, somehow.
"I love you too, Luna," he said gently. He didn't think he'd ever felt this happy in his whole life.
*pokemonpokemonpokemon*
Harry wasn't doubling his time up so much anymore – he'd promised Luna he wouldn't, so that he wouldn't be too much older than her. So December rolled around faster than he expected. When he had a horrifying vision of Ron's father being attacked by a snake, he woke Ron to tell him about it right away, and was instantly believed. Dumbledore was, in Harry's opinion, a little slow to act, but he got Mr. Weasley help all the same.
Harry felt very helpless waiting at home at Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys. He'd never put a lot of effort into mastering healing magic. When they visited and heard, with a bit of eavesdropping, about the prophecy Mr. Weasley had been guarding before being bitten by Voldemort's snake, Harry was furious.
As soon as he was back at school, he insisted on seeing Professor Dumbledore right away.
Professor McGonagall seemed reluctant to give him the password for the guardian gargoyle to the Headmaster's office, for some reason. "He's very busy," she warned. "He might not be able to see you for quite some time."
Harry's brow furrowed stubbornly. "You tell him that I know about the prophecy, and why Mr. Weasley was really attacked. And if he doesn't want me to take my concerns direct to the Ministry, he willmake time to see me."
"You're usually a lot more polite than this, Mr. Potter," she frowned. "A little more courtesy would be appropriate."
"This is literally a matter of life and death. And might I add that if people had listened to me a little better and a little faster after the Goblet of Fire tournament, evil baby Voldemort wouldn't have gotten away in the first place," he complained. "This is important too. Maybe not quite as urgent, I suppose," he grudgingly conceded. "So if he can see me some time in the next day, I guess that would be enough."
She relayed Harry's message to Dumbledore, and returned with a tip that Dumbledore loved jelly babies.
An hour later, Hedwig was sitting next to Fawkes on a perch in the Headmaster's office, while Harry sat back in the plush chair in front of the desk, and listened to the headmaster's grave explanations of the prophecy about the Dark Lord, and his role in it.
Harry sighed. "Is that all? A power he knows not? That's easy."
Dumbledore looked rather startled, and peered over the top of his glasses at Harry.
"You think defeating Voldemort is easy?! Prophecies can be very complex, and-"
"-Easy peasy," insisted Harry. "I can beat him with a Pokémon power that The Dark Lord Knows Not. Which, let's face it, is going to be pretty much all of them. I'll make a new Pokémon just to be on the safe side, if you like. Just in case not knowing all their powers isn't enough."
Concerned with the need to bring down Harry's overconfidence a notch or two, Dumbledore stepped up his plan of what to reveal, and told Harry about the Horcruxes, too.
"So what are they?" Harry asked. Dumbledore tried to spin some tale about how he'd need to spend months viewing a bunch of memories, but Harry was having none of that.
"That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "You've suspected for what, twelve years or more, that he's not dead. Don't tell me you don't have a list of what you suspect he's made. Just tell me. Or deal with it yourself and leave me out of it entirely. Because you know, prophecies are malleable things. They're not fixed in stone. And I can see an entirely valid interpretation of the prophecy where Voldemort and I can just ignore each other and both live extremely long lives."
"It says one of you has to kill the other!" the Headmaster said, aghast.
"It says, 'Either must die at the hand of the other'," said Harry. "Which also suggests that neither of us will die, if we just leave each other alone."
"But what about, '…neither can live while the other survives'?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe we just both need to do more than merely 'survive'. There's probably some wiggle room. I've studied prophecies in Divination, you know. They're always open to interpretation."
Harry got the list he wanted from the Headmaster, albeit reluctantly forced out bit by bit. "Probably Helga's cup and Slytherin's locket, definitely the diary that's already burnt up, maybe Ravenclaw's diadem, the Gaunt family ring, and possibly something unknown of Gryffindor's to finish the Founder set. But not Gryffindor's sword, which is definitely safe. Is that the lot?"
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I believe so."
Harry listened with appropriate solemnity as Dumbledore pontificated about the tremendous danger he would be facing, wondering why it was seen as his problem to solve, instead of one of the many adults. Clearly they were all incompetent. It worked like that in Pokémon episodes too. He worried a little that he might be accidentally influencing the adult wizards and witches around him, and reminded himself to keep his powers in check and not let them sneak out subconsciously to affect things. Dumbledore chose that moment to explain how he'd go after the ring and locket Horcruxes himself, as well as talking to an old retired Professor for more clues. It startled Harry, who didn't know if his thoughts had affected things or not. Magic was dangerous stuff, when it responded to your will so easily. He sat and brooded quietly in the comfy chair while he plotted out what Pokémon could help with Horcrux hunting. Dumbledore waited with the serene patience borne of a long life and plenty of practice.
"I'll help too," promised Harry eventually, to Dumbledore's evident but guilty relief. "I'll need one of the Horcruxes once you've found one, and a puppy."
"A… puppy? Why? And what would you do with a Horcrux?" Dumbledore wished Harry was a bit more like Ron, and a bit less like Luna. He found conversations with him rather confusing at times.
"German Shepherd, for preference. Or a Labrador. I'll need it as a base for a new Pokémon the Dark Lord Knows Not. There's a reason for the Horcrux but I don't want to tell you in case Voldemort hears about it. Just let me see one before it's destroyed, alright?
"Oh, and you have to smash or get rid of the prophecy at the Ministry," Harry demanded. "We don't want Voldemort getting any clues. That's what I wanted to see you about in the first place."
Dumbledore tried explaining how it was well guarded, and Harry explained how that wasn't good enough when people got hurt. Eventually Harry's insistence that if Dumbledore didn't get it smashed Harry would just march into the Ministry and do it himself, did the trick.
And Harry got his new puppy smuggled into Hogwarts the very next week, courtesy of Sirius Black, who was thrilled to help with the rumoured puppy-related scheme to prank the Dark Lord.
A/N: More of Fifth Year next chapter!
My regular readers might like to note that I will be uploading a new chapter of "An Abnormal Godfather" on Tuesday morning (Australian time), 2nd August '16.
