"A Battle Club?" Ron read from the flyer, quirking an eyebrow at Hermione as they all headed back to Gryffindor Tower after dinner.
"Yeah! They're going to hold it at seven PM! We can get actual battle experience, and extra credit-"
"You get nearly perfect scores in every class." James noted, slanting a look her way as Hillevi read an app on myths of Legendary Pokemon on Dexter's belly. "What's the point of extra credit?"
The bushy-haired girl flushed at the compliment, shaking her head.
"Well, I don't really need it, but it can't hurt!"
"Hermione, no one needs extra credit." Harry pointed out. "Lockheart doesn't even use an A-B-C-D scale. He just gives you pass or fail. The entire class is getting perfect scores."
"Even Goyle and Crabbe." Ron agreed. "Surely a sign of the End of Days."
"So what use is extra credit when we're getting perfects?" Harry finished.
Hermione scowled at the reminder of her one disagreement with the Battle Professor's methods, but pressed on.
"Well, okay, so maybe we don't need the extra credit per say…But wouldn't it be great to get some actual experience having a battle against someone? We can learn so much, and get a ton of practice time!"
"Should I be insulted?" Hillevi wondered, and Cloudjumper grumbled, wrapping her arms around the Valhallan's shoulders in a hug. "I feel like I should be insulted."
"It'll pass." James assured, patting her hair despite Hillevi's protests.
"This is Lockheart." Harry reminded them. "We'll be lucky he doesn't turn this into a fan club for himself."
"When are you going to let this go, Harry?" Hermione responded with a dainty sniff. "Wasn't the Zekrom enough proof?"
"I thought it was a Reshiram." Neville admitted. "I always get those two confused."
"Zekrom is black, and Reshiram is white." Hillevi explained. "Lightning comes from a black sky, the sun peeks through white clouds."
"Huh, that actually makes a lot of sense…"
"No, it wasn't." Harry answered the original question. "There's something very off about Lockheart, and until I figure out what it is, I'm not going to let my guard down around him."
"Come on, Neville." Hermione intreated. "Don't you think it would be really cool-?"
"Uh, no, not really." The Longbottom replied, a weak smile forming. "Sorry, but I don't like practicing in front of a lot of people. Flora and I do better on our own, working at our own pace."
"Ivy!" Flora agreed.
"Levi, Bucky-"
Both turned to give the girl blank looks, and Hermione cut herself off with a huff.
"So none of you want to go? None of you want to put in the hard work, or deal with a professor you irrationally hate? You're going to let those weak excuses keep you from grasping this rare opportunity to further your education?"
The four Second Years shared a look.
"Uh huh."
"Yup."
"I guess so."
"Looks like it."
"Well, too bad, because we're already here!"
Hillevi blinked, looking around to find that Hermione had led them into the Battle classroom instead of Gryffindor Tower, and Lockheart was already blocking the door.
Great…
Defeated, the group moved to take seats in the middle, James letting out an inaudible sigh as Andi escaped her Poke Ball to hang off his shoulder.
"What's Professor Flitwick doing here?" Ron wondered, spotting the diminutive man up by the main platform.
"He's a Champion." Hermione explained. "He's been awarded the Avalon League Championship six times, and he's won in Sinnoh and Kalos, too."
"Why isn't he the Battle Professor?" Hillevi wondered, pulling a container of raspberries from her bag to share with Cloudjumper and Flora.
"Flitwick wouldn't want the job, what with the curse." Neville voiced, helping his Ivysaur onto an empty chair so she could snack and blinking owlishly at the stares he received. "What? It is cursed. My Uncle Algie told me all about it."
"There are no such things as curses." Hermione complained.
"Just like there isn't a Master Ball?" Harry argued.
"Yeah, yeah! My brothers told me about this!" Ron remembered. "They haven't been able to find a Battle instructor that could last a year! Some get injured, others quit for mysterious reasons-"
"Some get possessed by a mass-murdering sociopath bent on world domination." James inserted blandly.
"The position is cursed!"
"And again, I reiterate, there is no such thing as curses."
"Of course there are." Luna chirped, sitting next to Flora with Ginny on her other side. "Granted, normally only Ghost Pokemon use it, but I know of other Pokemon that can use the Curse attack as well."
Hermione seemed to have a minor existential crisis before surrendering, and Ron leaned forward to address the First Years.
"What are you two doing here?"
"Luna said that if I missed this, I would be really disappointed. Almost didn't make it, since this one was running late."
"I wasn't running late." The half-Veela replied. "You were. Besides, a wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."
"Except you aren't a wizard." Hermione grumbled. "Or male."
"Of course I'm not. What a silly thing to say. Why are you so silly, Hermione?"
"What are you guys doing here?" Ginny cut in.
"Hermione tricked us." Neville answered honestly.
"Greetings, students!" Professor Lockheart boomed, whipping off his lab coat and tossing it to a squealing-rather macho-Fourth Year Hufflepuff in the crowd. "Welcome to Battle Club! I know what you're thinking. Professor Lockheart, how can you even take on another project, what with you shaping the minds of young students, writing your new book, doing interviews for Tracker Monthly, and searching the Forbidden Island for the rare Mewthree? Well, my answer is simple…I'm just-that-good!"
Almost everyone burst into applause and cheers at that, and even James allowed his disgust to show as Hillevi, Harry and Neville shared a look.
"Just when I think my faith in humanity can't sink any lower…"
"Now, while I do want to work with all of you, I'm afraid that so many students will be trying for even me, so I have gotten some help. While he isn't yours truly, Professor Flitwick is a skilled Pokemon Battler, and has won many trophies and awards. I know we can all learn something from him, so let's give him a round of applause!"
The cheers were nowhere near deafening this go around, though Professor Flitwick hardly seemed to take offense.
"Hello, there! My hope is that you see this class not just as a chance to earn a few extra credit points, or a way to get your Pokemon more experience. Battling is more than a simple back and forth, with Pokemon firing attacks like they were softballs, trying to knock down pop bottles. To battle with Pokemon is to dance. It's a dance of Fire and Ice and Water and Steel. It is one among four partners, two trainers and two Pokemon. Each side works together to create strategies, and the other side tries not just to stop the attack, but to counter and use it to launch one of their own. It is a parry and thrust, thrust and parry. When done correctly, both sides leave the battle fulfilled, knowing they gave it their all. The winner achieves glory, and the loser honor in having created something beautiful."
"Yes, yes, very good!" Professor Lockheart agreed, clapping. "Now, I think we should begin with a demonstration."
When the Poke Ball Crafting Professor began to pull out one of his own, he waved the gesture off.
"Oh, no, not me, professor. While I would love nothing more than to battle you, I fear our battle would take so long that we would be unable to do anything else this meeting."
The tiny professor pursed his lips, but put away the Poke Ball.
"No, I'm thinking that we should have two students battle! The two of us can observe their clash, and then review with the rest of the students what they did right and wrong!"
Hands shot up at that, students crying out to be picked, while Harry slumped in his seat.
"Ten Poke Dollars he picks me."
"Harry." Hermione admonished, straining to wave her hand faster. "I'm sure-"
"Yes, Harry Potter!" Professor Lockheart shouted. "No need to wave your hand any harder, my boy! Come on up here!"
"I'd like my dollars by tomorrow." Harry stated, rolling his eyes and trudging up to the raised platform.
"Now then, who would like to take on our dear boy Harry here?"
"If anyone is going to wipe the floor with Potter, it's going to be me!" Draco declared, already marching over.
"Ah, excellent! This will be a wonderful battle, the old Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, settled amongst classmates and, might I dare say, friends?"
Neither boy seemed very impressed with this, and Professor Flitwick stepped in to give the rules.
"You will each use one Pokemon. Since both of you are beginners, we will keep the battle to just the stage. Your Pokemon may use the stage in any way, shape or form, but can not leave it. If your opponent knocks them out of the staging area, the match will be paused to allow you to retrieve them. When you are ready."
"Prepare to get schooled, Potter." Draco sneered as the boys created space between them for said battle.
"Whatever, Draco." Harry replied, rolling his eyes again.
"Mind your tongue, Potter! Servine!"
Dexter popped up, as he always did when a new Pokemon appeared, and clicked his camera.
"Photo captured!" He chirped. "Servine, the Grass Snake Pokemon. A Grass-type. When it gets dirty, its leaves can't be used in photosynthesis, so it always keeps itself clean."
"Looks like his Snivy evolved." Hillevi noted, unimpressed with the haughty Pokemon. "Probably too early."
"Energy Ball!"
"Eevee, counter with Shadow Ball!" Harry ordered, sending out his own starter.
The attacks collided in midair with a bright flash of light, canceling each other out, and Servine glared at Harry for not simply surrendering.
"Is that the best you can do, Potter?" Draco demanded, hand on hip and the other lazily gesturing. "You think a little counter-"
"Eevee, Quick Attack!"
The Normal-type charged, knocking a surprised Servine back into her person's legs and knocking Draco over onto his rear.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK-?"
"Sand Attack into a Shadow Ball!" Harry ordered, and Eevee, who had already been returning, dug his feet into the wooden stage to send splinters into Servine's eyes.
As the Grass-type cried out, rubbing at her eyes, the Evolution Pokemon sprung into Harry's arms and was launched into the air, where he fired off a Shadow Ball that sent Servine crashing back into Draco a second time.
"Razor Leaf!" Draco screamed in utter frustration, face a deep red.
Servine pulled out two leaves, twirling them around her fingers-
"Quick Attack!"
Eevee rolled as he landed, and spun his opponent around with the blow, her lost leaves cutting a chunk of Draco's hair before Servine toppled over in a dead faint.
Once the Slytherin felt his new bald spot, he lunged for Harry-
"Mister Malfoy!" Professor Flitwick boomed, bringing the boy up short. "Calm yourself."
"Potter cheated!" Pansy screeched. "He fired off cheap shot after cheap shot!"
"Ha!" Ron countered. "I guess if anyone knew what a cheap shot was, it'd be a filthy Slytherin!"
A chorus of shrill cries forced everyone into silence, and Hillevi smiled in thanks to Drumfire and Stormfly.
"Thank you."
With a nod to Professor Flitwick, the Valhallan sat once more.
"Professor."
Inclining his head in thanks, he glared at both Ron and Pansy.
"Ten points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for such deplorable language, and for making baseless accusations. Would you care to explain why Miss Parkinson is wrong, or should I?"
"Uh, by all means, you do, sir." Professor Lockheart fumbled.
"Mister Malfoy, would you care to guess what your first mistake was?"
"I made no mistake!" Draco claimed. "Had Potter not attacked me-!"
"And why wouldn't he attack you? You weren't issuing any attack orders. It was a perfect moment to strike."
The Malfoy seemed wrong-footed at this, as if expecting an adult to immediately side with him.
"It was my turn!"
"Mister Malfoy, what are you talking about? What turns?"
"That's the way a battle goes! I call out an attack, my opponent calls out an attack, then I attack again. That's how a Formal Battle goes."
Hillevi sat back at this, brow furrowing in confusion.
That hardly seems like a battle…
Professor Flitwick sighed.
"Could anyone tell me exactly what my instructions were?"
Hermione raised her hand quickly.
"You said, you will each use one Pokemon. Since both of you are beginners, we will keep the battle to just the stage. Your Pokemon may use the stage in any way, shape or form, but can not leave it. If your opponent knocks them out of the staging area, the match will be paused to allow you to retrieve them. When you are ready."
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor for paying attention. Now then, Mister Malfoy, when did I ever say this was a Formal Battle?"
Draco just stared, bewildered, and the Crafting Professor turned to address the room as a whole.
"There are many different Pokemon battles. Yes, there are some where it's turn-based, known as Formal Battles, where each trainer takes a turn to call out an attack. But there are also Free Battles, where almost anything can go. I am not surprised Mister Potter battled that way, as he is a Gauntlet player and used to having to think on the fly, while also being friends with Miss Haddock, whose culture takes Free Battles to a logical extreme."
At this, Professor Flitwick turned back to the Slytherin.
"In the wild, Pokemon will not wait for you to make some grand speech. Once you see your target, you must be ready to go on the attack. Mister Potter saw you were distracted and took advantage. Worse, your Servine allowed itself to lower its defenses while waiting for you to call out an attack. Look at Mister Potter's Eevee."
Said Eevee, back at Harry's side, was in a ready crouch, ears twitching and eyes trained on Draco.
"A well-trained Pokemon is always alert for danger and ready to act, even if its trainer isn't. Had your Servine acted in the same way, it might have been able to counter Eevee's attack and given you a chance to go on the defensive. Instead, you allowed yourself to be surprised, and that cost you victory."
The diminutive professor stepped down from the stage, done with his lecture.
"Fifteen points to Gryffindor for taking advantage of an opponent's mistake, Mister Potter."
Harry recalled Eevee, turning to address the man with a smile.
"Thank you, sir."
"Well then, who else would like to try their hand at a battle?" Professor Lockheart offered, clapping his hands.
"I would!" Draco shouted, tossing out a second Poke Ball. "Ekans, Bite attack!"
Hillevi jerked up out of her seat so hard the chair crashed backwards, heart hammering against straining ribs as the Poison-type lunged for Harry's throat-
A hissed sound, and Ekans shut his mouth moments before impact, tossing the boy off-stage and into James' capable hands.
The classroom exploded with noise, Gryffindors and Slytherins screaming at each other-
"Enough."
The air itself fell still, and all eyes turned to Hillevi on the platform, gold fire in her green eyes as she stared down a sheet-white Draco.
"You attacked my shield-brother when his back was turned." The Valhallan stated flatly, the black-red-white Poke Ball around her neck vibrating as Cloudjumper, Stormfly and Drumfire bristled. "You tried to kill him."
"I-I was only following the rules of our battle-"
"The battle was over."
James slowly straightened, keeping a hand on Harry's shoulder, as rage bled into her voice.
"You attacked a member of my House with the intent to do harm when he could not defend himself. In Valhalla, I would be well within my rights to end your miserable life right this second."
"M-My father would never-" Draco blustered, a tremble in his voice.
"The House of Haddock cares nothing for names and titles." Hillevi stated, fury making the tiny Viking seem immeasurably large. "Everyone pays for their crimes with blood and steel."
"Miss Haddock…" Professor Flitwick stated, hands up in a gesture of friendship in case her Pokemon took offense.
James watched as, with a deep breath, Hillevi seemed to shrink back into herself, rage cooling into a sharp blade of steel behind dark green eyes.
"Next time, you will."
Cloudjumper went still, a pulse of shockhorror, and a scream tore through the brick walls from outside.
Broken from their stupors, everyone rushed to the windows to peer outside-
The Latias wailed at the sight of a petrified Marietta Edgecombe lying in the grass.
