This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations. This work also includes Pokemon, which belong to the Pokemon Company, and I again claim no ownership of these characters.
I thank both Rowling and the Pokemon Company for the universes they have created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.
A/N: Hello and welcome to the fifth instalment of my Harry Potter/Pokemon series: Harry Potter and the Legion of Ho-oh. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and that you will enjoy this part of it as well.
Before we begin, in response to a review on the last chapter of 'Trials of Champions', I would like to say that Percy won't be turning his back on his family. I always imagined that if Percy had heard the story from Harry himself, like he does in 'Trials of Champions', rather than through rumours and second hand stories, he would never have been as easily swayed to the Ministry's point of view. In this story the shoe is on the other foot. The Ministry still want to use Percy to get at the Weasleys, and by proxy Dumbledore, but this time Percy is aware and is not going to allow himself to be manipulated, playing the role of a Ministry stooge while secretly doing what he can to help Dumbledore and the Legion in the war against Voldemort.
Anyway, now that that's out of the way we can get on to the story. Enjoy!
In the quiet little suburb of Little Whinging, Surrey, sat a house, Number 4 Privet Drive, in which everything was normal. There was nothing unusual, or even remotely interesting, and the people inside were really quite content with their lives.
Harry Potter was not in Number 4 Privet Drive. He was some way away in the local park, sitting on the one remaining swing that hadn't been ruined by vandals. He was mostly alone, the time getting late and all the young kids and their parents having already left, but he felt no desire to leave.
Life at the Dursleys had never been easy, but usually the reason for that had been the Dursleys themselves. Now Harry had problems much more worrisome than Dudley's bullying, Aunt Petunia's chores, and Uncle Vernon's disapprovals. His problems kept him up at night.
Just a couple of months ago Harry had found himself in a position more perilous than any he'd ever been in before, alone, tied to a headstone, with Lord Voldemort standing in front of him. The most evil trainer in living memory had been unwise to allow Harry the chance to defend himself, allowing Harry to return to the safety of Hogwarts with his fellow student's body, Cedric Diggory, to warn everyone that Voldemort had returned.
Since then Harry had been carted back to the Dursleys with the promise that he wouldn't be there for long and… nothing. Nothing had happened. Voldemort, wherever he was and whatever he was doing, was completely silent. There was not even a whisper of his doings. No unexplained deaths, no unnatural disasters, nothing. It worried Harry.
A breeze, something almost unheard of during what had been the hottest summer in living memory, blew across Harry and with it came the sound of voices. Harry wasn't surprised to hear them, though he was disappointed.
Dudley and his gang came into view just a few seconds after Harry became aware of their approach. Very little had changed. The same boys, Malcolm, Dennis, Gordon, followed around with Dudley everywhere, delighting in terrorising the younger children in the neighbourhood. Five years ago Harry had been a prime candidate for harassment, since he could never tell on them to his parents and fuelled by Dudley's intense dislike for him. But now things were different. Harry's time at Hogwarts had removed him from Dudley's gang's radar and he was left mostly alone.
Still, Harry wasn't going to hang around. Dudley's gang may not actively seek him out anymore but they weren't above having a go at him if given the chance. Harry supposed it was the nostalgia.
He stood up.
"See ya, Dud," Malcolm called, walking away from the group and towards home.
"Catch ya later, Big D," Gordon copied, punching Dudley on the arm as he too left.
Harry ignored the goodbyes, instead heading to the far side of the park and onto the deserted streets of Little Whinging, heading laboriously back towards Privet Drive. Harry didn't want to return, but he knew only too well that his Aunt and Uncle would raise a fuss if he was back later than Dudley. It was always easier to avoid antagonising his relatives more than necessary.
Besides, he thought as he let out a long yawn, he was tired. The night before he'd managed no more than a couple of hours sleep, something that had happened more than once since his return to the muggle world. Every night when he closed his eyes he was witness to the same visions, Nagini's brutal attack, Voldemort's solidifying form, Cedric's lifeless eyes staring up at the night. Even when he was awake the images would haunt him.
"Hey, Potter!" Harry let out a silent moan. He'd been trying to avoid this.
He had been walking down a small path connecting Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk, a somewhat unusual route to be taking to Privet Drive which was the exact reason he had chosen it. To avoid situations just like this.
Dudley was approaching, accompanied by perhaps the worst of Dudley's gang members, Piers Polkiss. Piers was a scrawny boy, and quite unattractive too, with shrewd eyes and a distinctly rat like face. While most of Dudley's gang were big and muscular and could frighten a kid three years their junior just by looking at them, Piers stood out as the brains of the group. Which was why Harry felt he was the worst. The others could be forgiven for simply being too stupid. Piers enjoyed what he did.
It was Piers who had called Harry's name, having spotted him with his beady eyes from the other end of the alleyway, and it was Piers who reached Harry first, not half as wary of the dark haired boy as Dudley was. Dudley had good reason to be afraid.
"Yes," Harry said with false politeness, all the while moving a hand towards the Pokéballs on his belt. It was never a good idea to trust Piers Polkiss.
"Watcha doing?" Piers asked, leering at him. "Saw you in the park back there. What, not gonna say hello?"
"Hello," Harry said simply. Piers grinned.
"You've been hiding," he said, poking a finger into Harry's chest. Harry refused to back down. "Haven't had a good talkin' with you in years, have we Dud?" But Dudley wasn't looking as eager for the brewing fight as Piers was.
"Come on," he muttered, gesturing with his head back the way he had come. Piers expression lost its mock friendly tone.
"Fuck this," he spat, literally, on the ground. "You're going soft, Dud. You're letting him get above his station. Mouthin' off, acting like he ain't worthless trash. You need to stamp him out." Piers reached out and grabbed a fistful of Harry's shirt. Harry pushed him away.
"Shove off," Harry snapped, more forcefully than he'd meant too. He'd have been better off saying nothing as now Piers's attention was drawn back to him.
"Or what?" he threatened. "What you gonna do to me orphan boy? Cry to your mother? That ain't gonna work, that bitch dead." Harry saw red. Ignoring all reasoning telling him Piers was trying to wind him up Harry grabbed hold of a Pokéball.
"You think that's gonna scare me?" Piers challenged, staring back at Harry unflinchingly despite the Pokéball in his hand. "Bring it. I ain't scared of the likes of you."
Harry, meanwhile, was doing his best to get a hold of himself. Normally taunting like this wouldn't get to him, he had too much experience, first with Dudley's gang and their childish cruelty and later with Draco Malfoy and his cutting barbs. But he was tired, exhausted even, and completely on edge at the thought that Voldemort could attack at any moment.
He took a breath and lowered his Pokéball. This wasn't a battle he ought to fight.
Piers, however, looked triumphant.
"Told ya, Dud," he said, sneering at Harry. "Pathetic. Can't even stand up for himself, the weak fucker. Good thing his parents snuffed it and didn't have to see how useless he turned out." Dudley seemed to realise Piers had gone too far, evidenced as his face went white. Harry wondered if he was thinking about the incident with Aunt Marge's bulldog Ripper two years ago. That's what Harry was thinking about.
He pressed the button on the Pokéball.
He could not see his partner Pokémon appear, but he could feel his presence at his back, the familiar warmth of the living, breathing fire type having his back, while he could watch Dudley and Piers slowly look up at the creature behind him and gulp. Charizard growled.
"AHHHHH!" Piers Polkiss, fearless just a moment ago, ran for it, screaming at the top of his voice as he tore down the path back the way he had come. A moment later a loud splash sounded and the scream was cut off.
"You should probably go check on him," Harry suggested calmly. Dudley did not act as though he had heard. He was staring up at Charizard's head, his face deathly pale as his mouth hung open.
"That's…" Dudley stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at the Pokémon. "That thing… It's… I mean… what…" Harry waited patiently for Dudley to string his words together, somewhat interested in exactly what question Dudley's mind would come up with. He found it morbidly amusing.
"Is that the thing… the same one as… before?" Dudley gasped out. That was slightly surprising, though not completely unexpected.
"He's grown a lot," Harry told him. "But yeah. He's my first Pokémon. The same one as two years ago and the same one as two years before that. He's my partner." Dudley gulped.
"That's, that's unfair," he stammered out. "You shouldn't have… it's unfair, he's too… why do you get something so… powerful?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. This was the first time Harry had heard Dudley say anything about Pokémon that wasn't completely negative. Could it be possible that Dudley actually quite liked Pokémon?
It was more likely Dudley just liked the idea of having a Pokémon. It would make him the king of Little Whinging, no one would stand in his way if he had a Charizard.
"Life isn't fair," Harry said simply. "If it was fair I wouldn't be stuck living with you lot but I'm stuck here anyway. Stop complaining. You have no idea how much you've got." Harry glanced past Dudley. Piers still hadn't reappeared.
"You might want to make sure Piers hasn't offed himself," he said, returning Charizard to his Pokéball and turning his back. "I'm leaving."
He'd taken only a few steps before Dudley spoke up again.
"You wouldn't be so confident if you didn't have those creatures with you," Dudley challenged. Harry paused to contemplate that. True, with Charizard he felt confident. He felt safe, even in the most dangerous of times. He turned back to Dudley.
"I wouldn't be me if I didn't have my Pokémon," he said simply. And he left, Dudley letting him go without a fight.
Harry made it back to Number 4 in little time after that, not wanting to hang around after his altercation with Dudley and Piers. He slipped into the house and hurried upstairs, not wanting to face his relatives, and was soon sequestered safely in his room.
Dudley arrived not too long after and, though there was a fuss downstairs when he did, no one came upstairs to demand answers from Harry. Dudley must have been keeping his mouth shut about the incident between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk.
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon's shout up the stairs wasn't unexpected and, with a quick glance to his watch, Harry knew he was being called for dinner. He sighed, closing his Physiology textbook and placing it on his bedside table before leaving and walking downstairs.
"We're having take out," Vernon said as Harry arrived, pointing him towards the table where Aunt Petunia was unpacking the bags. Dudley was sitting there too, looking rather wet. Perhaps he fell into the water too. He avoided Harry's eyes.
Harry quickly picked out the tub set out from the rest, only rice sitting inside. Still, it was better than when he'd have to give up half his tub to Dudley because he complained too much so he quietly accepted it and walked to the kitchen to grab a fork. As he moved to leave and walk out into the hallway Uncle Vernon spoke up.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said, causing Harry to pause. Every meal Harry would take his food up to his room so it was worrying that Uncle Vernon was pulling him short. Maybe Dudley had blabbed after all.
"Petunia, Dudders and I are going out tonight," Vernon said, causing Harry to let a tiny sigh of relief. "There's a formal reception for a big donor from America and we've been asked to go represent the company. Now, don't think for a moment that that means you can do whatever you like or let those… creatures, of yours run loose through the house."
"Of course," Harry muttered blandly. He'd received this speech or similar every time the Dursleys had left him alone in the house. The fact that he hadn't blown the place up yet didn't seem to convince them that he wouldn't do it next time.
"I warn you, I'll know," Vernon said but Harry wasn't even listening. He gave his word nothing would happen while they were gone, his voice dull and uncaring, and then took the first opportunity he had to leave the room and head upstairs.
About an hour later the sounds of the Dursleys filling up the car drifted up to Harry's window. Soon they were followed by the sound of the engine and the crunch of gravel as Uncle Vernon pulled out of the driveway and set off up the road.