Disclaimer: I don't own shit.
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Chapter 2: We All Live in a Pokémon World
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Harry Potter was having a bad day...
Wait, no, Harry thought to himself. That doesn't sound right...
Harry Potter was having a bad summer...
Hm, still not right...
Harry Potter was having a bad life...
There it is!
...and he hoped that it could only get better. Of course, he wouldn't say that out loud, because then he'd be tempting Fate, and that bitch seemed to have a particularly unhealthy fascination with him, so it was best to let sleeping Cerberi lie.
He was sitting on a high branch in one of the oak trees at the park near his relatives' house, chucking acorns at Dudley and his gang and having a bit of a laugh at their expense. They'd been pelted with the seeds for roughly five minutes and they still couldn't pinpoint his location. To be honest, this would be pretty damn hilarious to Harry if he hadn't been hiding from them in this tree for roughly five minutes.
He'd been back from his second year at Hogwarts for almost a month, and he was already wishing for the rest of the summer holidays to be over and done with, even if he had to fight another basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Uncle Vernon had saddled him with all the yard work this summer because, in the Dursley patriarch's words, "The damn freak's looking a bit scrawny; needs to build up some muscle."
Harry scowled at that thought. Of course, his bone-thinness couldn't have anything to do with the fact that he was fed one meal a day, if a piece of toast and whatever could be gleaned from Aunt Petunia's breakfast plate was what a meal defined.
Despite all of this though, he'd actually begun to put on a bit of muscle weight, although that might have been credited to the fact that his body was finally going through puberty, and the hormones were wreaking havoc with its functions. Sighing, Harry hurled another acorn at Dudley's head.
In the brief amounts of spare time Harry was able to gather together, he'd picked the lock on his former residence to rescue his school things, had finished his summer work assigned by the professors, and reread his school texts and notes several times over. He was beginning to feel a bit like Hermione, truth be told; studying in his free time?
What would Ron say?
At least now he had a more firm grasp on all the stuff he'd learned in the past two years at the magical boarding school, especially Transfiguration, which he'd really taken a shine to after he figured it out two weeks ago.
But then came the horrible news: "Boy, your Aunt Marge is coming to stay with us for a few weeks, so I will have no tolerance for your 'funny business' or your freakish ways while she is in this house. Do you understand?"
Harry had, in fact, understood, though that's not to say that he liked it one bit. He'd spent most of the time that Marge had occupied the Dursley household away from the house and as far away from that...thing as possible. This meant that he was away from Number 4 for much of the day, and in his room for the rest of it, hence the massive amounts of studying he found himself doing.
The only bright spots in this depressing vacation (if it could be called such) were the birthday presents his friends had sent to him. He'd gotten several cool trinkets from the Weasleys that came straight from Egypt (where they were visiting the eldest child, Bill), a broom-servicing kit from Hermione, who was vacationing with her parents in France, a savage book and a few rock cakes from Hagrid, and several more from his fellow Gryffindor soon-to-be-third-years.
After a few more minutes of tormenting Dudders with squirrel food, Harry got bored and pulled out an enchanted yo-yo given to him by Seamus Finnegan, whom Harry shared a dorm with at school. It was charmed to always come back to his hand with a string that was charmed to be unbreakable and unable to tangle up. So far, it was one of the better gifts he'd been given. Hell, it helped him kill time like Seal Team 6 killed bin Laden.
Exactly four hundred seconds later, Dudley and his cohorts finally gave up their search and went away, probably to go smash their heads into rocks for entertainment, and Harry was able to climb down out of the tree, as nimble as a cat. He set off through the park, setting his yo-yo to spinning and doing a few tricks he'd learned from the manual it'd come with as he went.
Since Harry was concentrating on 'rocking the cradle,' he failed to notice as a rather short girl with red hair so dark it was almost black turned a corner with her nose buried in a book.
The two came closer and closer, neither realizing that they were on a collision course with the other until it was too late. Harry had finally accomplished the trick and grinned, looking up just in time to meet the girl's silvery eyes before they slammed into each other and dropped to the pavement.
After the obligatory few seconds of utter confusion as to why he was on the floor, Harry picked himself up and helped the girl to his feet. While hoisting her up, he felt a strange twinge of recognition. At first, he thought maybe she'd triggered a hazy memory from his primary school days, until he saw the scowl on her face. That expression was known throughout Hogwarts as being deadlier than a basilisk's glare in the eyes of the Slytherin girl, Tracey Davis.
Uh-oh, he thought just before the girl unloaded on him.
"Watch where you're going, you idiot!" she growled. "What are you blind?"
"A little," Harry dared to respond, tapping his glasses. That drew the girl's attention to his eyes...and to his scar.
Her own eyes narrowed dangerously as they performed the customary flick towards his forehead, and he mentally groaned when he saw that. "Potter," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
Escaping from hell for a few hours, he thought, but what he said was, "I could be asking you the same question, Davis. I thought Slytherins spent their summers slinking around the countryside on their bellies looking for rats to eat."
Her expression hardened angrily as she opened her mouth, then sighed. Harry watched in confused amazement as the rage bled out of her face, replaced by...embarrassment?
"Look, I don't talk about this to anyone at school and you don't either, got it?" she finally said. "If anyone in Slytherin were to find out that I've just come out of a Muggle bookstore, then I'd be worse than dead."
"Um, okay, but why should I be worried about anyone knowing that I'm in Little Whinging during break? I'm always here in this shit-pit during break," he finished bitterly, glancing back towards where Magnolia Crescent met up with the main street he was on.
"Just keep this to yourself, please?" she asked, and Harry was struck by how funny it was that a Slytherin was asking a Gryffindor for something. But he wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing, and his chivalrous nature stepped in.
"Sure, whatever," Harry replied with a shrug before continuing his walk through the town. Tracey Davis was instantly on guard. Her life was a constant struggle, and if she wanted something from someone else, they usually asked for something in return.
So when the boy wonder simply said, 'sure, I'll keep your secret,' Tracey knew something was up, even if it was in her own mind.
Jogging to catch up, Tracey finally came up level with Harry and fell into step with him. "So what is it you want?" she asked, confusing him even further; he was just about to ask that question.
"Huh?" he responded eloquently.
"I mean, what do you want in exchange for your silence?" Tracey elaborated with an eye-roll. Honestly, Gryffindors could be ever-so stupid sometimes. Well, she thought with an internal smirk, most times.
"I don't want anything," Harry said, looking at her strangely. "It's not like I want the other snakes to give you a ration of crap about liking..." he glanced down at her book, "...Pokémon. Wait, Pokémon?"
He did a double-take on her book, making her blush scarlet as she tried to hide the book. "Shut up," she muttered.
"Why?" Harry asked. He'd absolutely adored the little Pocket Monsters since he caught a full episode of it one Saturday morning. Of course, it wasn't really worth the tanning his backside had been given by Uncle Vernon for 'stealing their television,' whatever that meant. He'd also gotten his hands on a few of the guidebooks his cousin had demanded for all the games for his handheld game system. "Pokémon is pretty cool. I haven't seen more than three or four episodes, but I like it."
Tracey gave him a skeptical look. "Oh, yeah? Well then what does Charmander evolve into?"
"Charmeleon," Harry answered immediately, "at level sixteen in the games, and then into Charizard at level thirty-six." He knew this because Charizard was one of his favorites.
"Hm," hummed Tracey. It seemed that he wasn't lying. Unless... "Who's the most powerful Pokémon in existence?"
"I dunno," Harry admitted. "I've only seen up to the third generation games because Dudley-that's my cousin-got bored of it after that. My guess would be Mew, though, since it can learn every single technique in existence."
She scrutinized him for a moment before nodding, satisfied. "Fine, you're a Pokéfan. Now I have something on you, so you'll be sure to keep your mouth shut about this matter. And the most powerful Pokémon is actually Arceus, the creator of the Pokémon world, for your information."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Slytherin through and through," he muttered. "Well, I'd say it was nice to see you again, Davis, but I don't like to lie. Till Hogwarts, then!"
And with that, Harry Potter and Tracey Davis went their separate ways. Little did they know that their destinies would be intertwined from that moment onward, brought together by what they believed was simply a fictional series about creatures one could capture with a little ball.
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Loomis sat in the violently purple triple-decker bus with something akin to terror. He'd flown on Rayquaza to the upper troposphere, he'd ridden Entei at top speed, and he'd dove to the bottom of the ocean with Kyogre; this bus was head-and-shoulders the worst form of travel he'd ever used. Literally. He'd rather be back in Atlantis fighting against all the Legendary Pokémon in existence with nothing but a pair of water wings and a plastic knife.
As it happened, Professor Samuel Oak-known throughout his homeland as one of the best minds in Pokémology, as well as being a somewhat decent practicioner of magic-had known of a way back to the Origin, or Earth as the inhabitants called it. He'd also arranged for Loomis to be given a job as a teacher at some magic school as a cover story for his being there (not many people make the ethereal jaunt across dimensions just to sight-see). Apparently, Oak and the headmaster of the school named Albus Dumbledore were old chums from back when Samuel was still a traveling Pokémon Trainer and Dumbledore was still in his early twenties. To Loomis, this meant that they must have met roughly a hundred and ten years ago, give or take a few decades.
So he arrived in an old abandoned warehouse in London and promptly caught the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron, where he would be staying for the duration of the summer. Personally, he'd rather stay somewhere that wasn't called the 'Leaky Cauldron'; it didn't exactly conjure up images of a four-star hotel, or even a one-star hotel. Maybe a rundown roadside inn with a bad pest problem, or the Old Chateau in Eterna Forest.
Loomis was startled from his thoughts when the bus came to an entirely too abrupt halt, sending him flying from the back of the bus on the first level into the small partition behind the driver's seat. Groaning, he barely managed to stand up before several of the beds crashed into his back, sandwiching him against the barricade.
Angrily, he pushed the beds back with a well-placed Mega Kick and dusted himself off, grimacing when he found a wad of gum attached firmly to the seat of his favorite pair of jeans. "Aw, gross!" he moaned, zapping the gum with a quick Teleport, causing it to vanish somewhere else. Not my problem anymore, he thought.
He hobbled over to sit on the nearest bed as the bus took off again and noticed that there was a new passenger aboard. A slight, bespectacled kid who was probably around thirteen was sitting across from him, a big trunk sitting underneath him. He wasn't wearing robes like many of the clowns who'd climbed on, but he did have a wand made out of what looked like holly.
The kid also looked pretty shaken up and had a strange bulge in his sweater that was squirming suspiciously. Loomis continued watching as the boy hurriedly told the bulge to stop moving about so much, and the bulge replied with a loud, squeaky, "Riolu!"
At first, he thought he was hearing things. Then he saw the teardrop-shaped aura receptor poke out of the sweater and confirmed that he had, indeed, heard the cry of a Riolu. At first, he was confused; there weren't Pokémon on this side of the inter-dimensional rift...unless one had unknowingly been sucked in when he'd gone through. Dimensional travel was still shaky at best, catastrophic at worst. He should be counting his lucky stars that something like Groudon or Mewtwo hadn't gotten in.
Deciding to do something about this, Loomis stood up and headed across the aisle.
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Harry Potter was having a bad day...again.
He'd just finished a delightful dinner that consisted of some wonderful roast beef (which he made), a serving of cream peas (which he also made), and some tiramisu (which was bought from the grocery store since he couldn't properly pronounce it, let alone cook, it). There was also a heaping helping of insults, courtesy of Aunt Marge, along with an after-dinner magic show that blew her up to balloon proportions and caused her to float away on the wind.
So now he was dragging his trunk down Magnolia Crescent, seriously contemplating magicking his trunk feather-light, strapping it to his broom and draping his Invisibility Cloak over the whole thing. The owl bringing the announcement of expulsion was probably winging its way toward Number Four right at this very moment.
He snarled and viciously kicked his trunk, which only served to add a painfully throbbing set of toes to his list of woes. As he hopped up and down, cursing like a sailor, he failed to notice the pair of glowing yellow eyes following him with some amusement from the shadows of a nearby alley for the first few seconds of his pain.
Harry suddenly got that prickle on the back of his neck. You know the one; where it feels like someone's watching you...
Stopping mid-hop, he turned his head slowly toward the alley and saw the massive canine frame of a black dog with yellow eyes and fangs that were all too sharp for his liking. His pulse skyrocketed as the gaze between beast and boy continued. He brought his foot down slowly and reached for his wand in his back pocket.
Before he could even think of a spell to use on a gargantuan dog, a ball of bright indigo energy flew past him and struck the ground at the creature's feet, startling it. The dog gave one last look to Harry before turning tail and booking it out the back of the alley.
Harry turned to see who had saved him and received another shock; he'd gotten shocked so many times tonight he was almost becoming desensitized to it. Almost. There, standing with its three-fingered palm outstretched and panting slightly, was a small, lupine creature with blue and black fur, with little nubs of bone on its wrists and two little teardrop-shaped growths on the back of its head.
This was, without a doubt, a Riolu, the Emotion Pokémon, and something that shouldn't exist. Harry gaped and began to move toward it, but tripped over his trunk. His arms went flailing, and the next thing he knew, a triple-decker bus in a startling shade of purple was barreling toward the Riolu, who was still in the middle of the street and caught in its headlights like a spooked deer.
Harry and his magic reacted on instinct. He reached out with his hand and suddenly, the Riolu was zooming through the air. The bus stopped at the exact moment the small Pokémon crashed into his chest.
The door opened, and Harry hurriedly zipped up his sweater to hide the Riolu. A young man who couldn't be a few years older than he was stood in the doorway, wearing a conductor's suit that matched the bus' gaudy paint job precisely.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus," he said, "emergency transport for witches and wizards of the United Kingdom. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this even-hey, whatchoo got in your jumper?"
"Nunya," Harry responded.
"Nunya?" repeated Stan, sounding almost as confused as his expression looked.
"Yeah," said Harry, "Nunya damn business. How much to get me to the Leaky Cauldron?"
Stan chuckled briefly at the word play, which was just barely within his scope of understanding, then said, "Fifteen sickles'll get ya t' the Leaky Cauldron and a cup o' hot chocolate."
"Here," Harry said, digging into his pocket and depositing a handful of silver coins into Stan's hand. "If you could bring my trunk, that'd be just swell."
Harry entered the bus and saw beds and candles and was almost worried he'd traveled back in time to a late nineteenth-century orphanage. There were only a few passengers, and most of them were asleep, except for one young man who could have been Stan's age who was picking himself up from the floor. His scruffy black hair flopped around as he angrily kicked the beds that had fallen into him for some reason, and he wore clothing that wouldn't have looked out of place on a punk rock band's lead singer, and Harry had to admit to being envious of that kick, which sent half a dozen beds flying when his kick couldn't even budge a trunk.
Harry watched as the young man waved his hand, which was covered in fingerless gloves that seemed to have a bit of armor on the back and palm of the hand and pointed his finger at the gum stuck to his rear. Harry felt a brief wave of magic pulse out of the digit and made the gum vanish.
As the man limped towards the nearest bed, the Riolu gave a short bark of impatience, and Harry had to shush it up. When Harry looked back, the young man was looking at Harry...or to be more precise, the bulge in Harry's sweater. Uh-oh, he thought.
"Hi there," the man started off with an amiable smile and a kind voice. The makings of a beard chased his jawline, and his eyes, pools of deep blue, had a look about them that made Harry almost shiver in fear and awe.
"Hello," Harry replied cautiously.
"I couldn't help but notice that you've got a Riolu in your shirt," said the man again. "The name's Loomis Thatcher, by the way," he added, holding a hand out in front of Harry's gobsmacked expression.
"Harry Potter," he replied, shaking the proffered hand almost automatically. "How do you know about Riolu?"
"Well I've got an Illucari that I raised since he was a Riolu that I hatched from an egg," Loomis explained. "I'm from Atlantis, which I've heard is called the Pokémon World by Commies on this side of the rift."
Harry stared at him blankly for a few moments before he said, "Okay, I understood about a quarter of what you just said."
Loomis laughed, and the bulge squirmed again with an angry, "Ri! Olu Rio!"
"I think you might want to let out Riolu before it gets mad and tries a Take Down or something," Loomis advised, and Harry opened his sweater. Riolu jumped out and landed on all fours on the mattress, gasping for breath. "Hey there," Loomis said. "Looks like you took an unexpected trip across a couple dimensions with me, huh?"
Riolu glanced up and noticed Loomis and started jabbering about. Rather than perform a translation spell to allow him to understand, he held up a hand, pulled out a Luxury Ball and opened it. The flash of light that erupted outward solidified and became Fenrir in all his lupine glory.
He glanced around and his eyes found the young human and the Riolu that seemed both frightened and awed by him. Then, he turned to Loomis and raised an eyebrow and projected his thoughts to Loomis.
So...am I supposed to beat this hatchling and her Trainer up...or...? he let it hang for a bit, and Loomis gave him an eyebrow-raise of his own.
Didn't take you for the cradle-robbing type, Fen, he projected back with a grin. Always thought you had a thing for Belle. She'll be crushed.
Fenrir growled low in his throat, and to anyone else it would've been intimidating enough to run away in terror. To Loomis it was funny enough for him to burst out laughing. As it was, Harry and Riolu scooted as far away from Fenrir as the bed allowed.
Anyway, I want you to talk to this little girl here and see how she got into this dimension. I've got a pretty good idea, but I wanna make sure before I do anything stupid, Loomis continued, ignoring the murderous look his Illucari was giving him.
Whatever, Fenrir replied before falling into Pokémon language with the Riolu, who became much more open once Fenrir started sending out calming waves of emotion, which the basic evolution picked up with her aura receptors.
Loomis turned to Harry, who was staring, open-mouthed, as the two Pokémon conversed. "You look surprised," he said.
Harry brought his thoughts together and said, "Well, it's not everyday that creatures you thought only existed in video games and cartoons come to life before your very eyes."
"There's a Pokémon video game here?" Loomis asked, intrigued. He'd heard something about an Atlantean taking the inter-dimensional trip and making huge bucks by using his homeland as the basis for a comic book, but a video game, too?
"Yeah, it's a multi-billion dollar, multinational franchise here," Harry replied. "But about all that stuff I don't understand, like...I don't know...all of it!?"
"Okay, well, I'll explain it like I'm explaining it to a Commie," Loomis started.
"And a Commie is...what, exactly?"
"A non-magical human, short for Common," Loomis explained. "I've heard that magicals in Almia and Fiorre call 'em Normies, but I've never been there before, so it's all heresay on my end. Anyway, so you know how Atlantis was this supposed continent filled with a super-race of humans who built an incredible civilization and it all sank in one cataclysmic night? Well, that's kinda true. The super-race of humans were mages, and they did build an incredible civilization on what used to be known as the Atlantic Land Bridge. There was a big asteroid that was coming to wipe out all life on Earth and, long story short, the mages made a shield that broke when the asteroid hit and smashed the asteroid into millions of pieces. A highly-charged magical shard struck the strongest stream of naturally-occurring earth magic on the planet, and the resulting magical reaction sent the Atlantic Land Bridge, also known as Atlantis, hurtling through seven dimensions before settling in what you would know as the Pokémon World. Kanto, the Orange Archipelago, Johto, Orre, Hoenn, the Sevii Archipelago, Almia, Fiorre, Sinnoh, Unova, all of it, it's all there in a separate dimension. The survivors became regular Commies, but some of us still have that random gene mutation that allows us to manipulate the natural energies of the world. The animals became what you know as Pokémon."
Harry took a few moments to absorb that knowledge, and then said, "So why are you here now?"
"Some assholes took control of ten Legendary Pokémon to try and coax out the great one himself, Arceus so they could take control of him and take over this world. They're the followers of some cock-sucker who calls himself Voldemort."
"What!?"
"What?"
"What!?"
"What?"
"What!?"
"Seriously, what are you 'what'ing about?" Loomis finally broke the cycle that probably would've gone on for awhile otherwise.
"Voldemort's the reason I don't have any parents and also the reason that for the past two years, I've been subjected to crazy shenanigans at school that somehow end with me fighting against insurmountable odds to defeat that ass-licker at the end of the year."
"...wow," Loomis summed it up in one word and a bit of a pause.
Harry sighed sadly. "Yeah, tell me about it."
They lapsed into a contemplative silence for a moment before Loomis nodded to himself and clapped Harry on the back. "Well, you know what this means, don't you?" When Harry shook his head, Loomis forged onward. "It means that you and I are in this together. He killed your parents, he wants the power of my homeland. You say you've gotten the better of him twice already, and I thwarted his initial attempts at getting Atlantis' strength, so if we team up, there'll be no stopping us."
Harry thought about it. "Well, it couldn't hurt to try..." he said as Fenrir and Riolu finished up their conversation.
Well? asked Loomis when Fenrir looked over at him.
Apparently, you overdid it when you created that Dimension Door, Fenrir explained. So you sent yourself, whatever was on your person at the time, and about ten wild Pokémon besides this youngling through a couple dimensions.
Huh, Loomis said, only slightly stumped. Well, I'm sure the other Pokémon will find someone to take care of them, like Riolu did with Harry here.
You're probably right, Fenrir conceded. And Harry's quite the lucky fellow. He found one of the few Riolu who can perform Aura Sphere.
Oh, you got some competition, Fen, Loomis said with a grin. The smile turned into a brief expression of horror as the Knight Bus narrowly avoided a barn house and added, Maybe you should get back into your ball. It's much safer.
I agree wholeheartedly, Fenrir replied, and was converted to pure light before retreating into the capsule before pulling out another one.
"So, if you're going to be working with me, you're gonna need a real Pokémon partner. I'm sure that this Riolu wouldn't mind, would you?" The Riolu replied in the negative, so Loomis handed Harry the standard Pokéball. "Make it official, then."
Nodding, Harry held out the Pokéball, and Riolu leapt forward as it opened. There was a brief moment when it shook a couple times before coming to a standstill, and the noise that declared the capture to be successful sounded out.
He stared at the ball for a moment, not quite believing that this was actually happening. He was shaken from his thoughts by Loomis' voice.
"So, now that you've got your Pokémon, we're going to need to get that tracking charm off of you," he was saying. "We're going to be fighting a Dark Lord, and we can't have you rushing in half-cocked and with no really powerful battle magic on your side."
"Tracking charm?"
"Yeah, it's called the Trace. Your world's magical governments have to hide the magical world from Commies, and in order to do that, they need to keep track of their children so they don't reveal magic to normal people accidentally. Thus, the Trace. It's pretty easily dispelled, but then your British Ministry will know that it's not on you."
"So how are you going to get rid of it without them knowing?" Harry asked, curious.
"Check it out," Loomis said, tapping the side of Harry's head, near the temple, with his forefinger. The boy immediately felt a wave of warmth rush through him from the point of impact, and when it was over, he looked inquiringly at Loomis. "I transferred the Trace from you to some random alley cat. The Trace only picks up bursts of magic during the time that you aren't at school, so you're good to go until you're seventeen, and the Trace lifts."
"So I can use magic now?" Harry asked, hardly daring to believe the luck he'd had for the past week or so. First, he gets away from an encounter with a Slytherin without a scratch, blows up his Aunt Marge with little to no repercussions, finds a Riolu and catches it, and now he can perform magic without the Ministry being any the wiser about it. Harry wondered if Fate was finally paying him back for all the shit he'd had to take over the years.
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Far away from the city lights of London, near a small town called Ottery St. Catchpole, two sets of twins met in a rather shocking manner.
Fred and George Weasley were a few miles away from the prying ears of their family under an oak tree, working on a project of theirs that they believed would be absolutely hilarious if they pulled it off right. They'd long since learned that any plotting within a hundred feet of their mother was ultimately futile; that woman seemed to know everything that happened in the Burrow, without exception.
Plusle and Minum had found themselves in an unfamiliar place after a rather disorienting trip through dimensions, and were still slightly jumpy after the wild ride across time and space. They'd wandered through their new surroundings, finally falling asleep in a large hole in an oak tree after ousting the small rodents that looked a bit like Pachirisu, but strangely different.
A small explosion, the result of a few milligrams of powdered Erumpent horn more than was necessary, rocked the tree, waking up Plusle and Minum by way of a three-foot-drop. When they landed, the pair of Electric-types did the most logical thing they could think of.
Thundershock.
Fred and George had been startled by the explosion, surprised by the thunk of living bodies falling onto their heads, and downright shocked (pun definitely intended) by the current of electricity that coursed through their bodies a fraction of a second later.
"What the-?"
"Plusle!"
"Are those...rodents?"
"Minum?"
There were a few seconds of general confusion shared by the two pairs of creatures. Plusle and Minum were huddled together, frightened of the red-furred humans before them, whose clothing was smoking slightly. Fred and George weren't so much as frightened as they were intrigued. They'd never heard of magical creatures like this before, but they were certainly curious about them.
They looked at the tiny creatures, who looked downright terrified, then at each other, and nodded. Fred pulled out a bit of a Chocolate Frog he had in his pocket and offered it to them. "Are you guys hungry?" he asked.
Plusle and Minum recoiled from his outstretched hand. The one with the red-tipped ears, arms, legs and tail sniffed the air slightly, then muttered something to its blue-toned companion. The red one darted forward in a burst of speed that startled Fred, grabbed the chocolate morsel and returned to his friend, breaking off a portion and handing it to Minum.
When they'd polished off the snack, George held out a bit of bread he'd been hoping to use for the experiment. This time, the pair moved forward together, and much more slowly. When they grabbed the bread, Plusle and Minum remained within arm's distance as they consumed it. Once that was finished, they glanced at the two humans with something akin to expectant irritation.
"Sorry, little fellas..." Fred started, holding his empty hands out for them to see.
"...but that's all the food we've got on us," finished George. "But we've got plenty of edible goodness..."
"...at our house," Fred continued on, pointing his arm where, across a couple miles of rolling hills and forest, stood the twinkling lights of the Burrow. "And we've got plenty of room..."
"...for a couple extra residents," George said with a shrug. "Would you two like to join us?"
Plusle and Minum held a silent conversation with their eyes before turning to the humans and nodding simultaneous.
"Well, then, let's get to it, chaps," Fred said brightly. "Lead the way, George!"
"Right you are, my dear brother!" George replied, setting a quick pace toward the Burrow. Maybe Hermione would know what these creatures were. Fred decided that he would steal Hermes from Percy and send the bookish Gryffindor a letter describing the creature, as well as a drawing, if his artistic bone wasn't on the fritz again.
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Not too far away from where Fred, George, Plusle, and Minum had met, another meeting was taking place.
A very hungry, confused Ron Weasley and a very hungry, confused Munchlax were having a staring contest.
"Munch?" asked the Munchlax, sniffing the air and smelling something that set his taste buds to tingling.
"Huh?" Ron asked, wondering what was going on. He'd been sitting in the garden, minding his own business...and eating the rest of the pie that was for Ginny's birthday tomorrow.
"Munch, munchlax," explained Munchlax, pointing first toward the pie, then at his stomach, which began rumbling. He hoped that this dim human would understand simple pantomiming.
"Oh, you're hungry, are you?" Ron said with a grin. "I think I can relate. Here..." He used his wand to cut a piece of the pie and held it out to the strange creature.
"Munch, lax!" Munchlax said gratefully, reaching past the proffered morsel and taking the whole pie. Before Ron could protest, Munchlax tossed the the whole thing down his gullet and gulped.
"Hey!"
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Hoothoot was a smart Pokémon. When she'd felt herself fall into the vacuum, she knew something was wrong, and when she ended up in a very strange place with absolutely no other Pokémon around, she started to feel a bit scared and began to wail for her brothers and sisters.
When Hermione heard the cry, she'd known for a fact that it was a bird. It was an owl, most likely, she thought. Maybe she was near a magical enclave in France, where she and her parents were vacationing for the summer. She'd left the hotel and gone out in search of the sound, and as she got closer, she became slightly confused.
"Hoot, hoothoot!"
"That's odd," Hermione muttered to herself. "That almost sounded like a-"
"Hoot, hoothoot!" A round shape fluttered down onto her shoulder, causing her to squeak in surprise and fall to the floor. The bird remained hovering above her, allowing for a closer inspection.
It was about the size of her head with large red eyes ringed with black patterns. The majority of its plumage was chestnut, but a bit on its belly was light beige. It landed on the sidewalk next to her and started pecking her.
"Ouch!" Hermione exclaimed, grasping the owl like she would a football. "Now, why did you do that for, huh? It's not very polite to peck people. Wait a tick...you're a Hoothoot, aren't you? I used to play Pokémon when I was a little girl, before I went to Hogwarts, obviously-"
"Hoothoot!" interrupted Hoothoot, and Hermione stopped talking long enough to hear a rumbling coming from the owl's stomach.
"Oh, you must be hungry!" Hermione deduced. "Well, my parents might not like it, but I can room service up some scrumptious French bread. Come on, we'll get you all fed up!"
A/N: So, there's the second chapter. Do with it what you will. But please, if you have any thoughts, even if you just wanna tell me to go to hell and burn there while real authors write actual stories, be my guest and FREAKIN' REVIEW! Oh, and a big thank you to Ragnarokiscoming for being my only reviewer so far. I appreciate it, buddy.