A/N: Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking, dear readers. "Ugh, not another story!" Sorry about that, friends, but I have to get this out of my head. It's based on a story by the author Hokage Lizy-Sama, but it will be in a different time setting and with different characters and a fairly-modified plot, and yes, I did get her permission to do this. You may ask her yourself, if you wish. Now, then, the first chapter will actually just be a quick dive right into the plot.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter or Pokémon. It makes me sad. :(
You Read My Doorstop
That's Enough Social Interaction for One Day...
Skeptical step after skeptical step, the young man was wandering through the foreign country, trying to find his destination. Then, he found it. A braclet on his left wrist allowed his home country's language to be easily understood by any of this country's members; form what he'd been told, it was done by magic. Yes, that's right, magic. Despite the fact that it had worked so far, he'd chalked it up to the fact that he already knew how to speak English fluently as well as his own language. Several of his home country's members had been English-only, so he'd had no choice, really, but to learn the language naturally as he'd grown up. Either way, though, when he finally found the building, he paused. It did, indeed, look quite run down. Looking up, he noticed a squeaky, filthy sign blowing slightly in the light breeze. With a glance at the letter in his hand, which was, rather oddly, parchment, he confirmed that this was the destination. His digital map affirmed it as well. With a sigh, he opened the door and stepped inside... only to freeze once the door was closed and he'd stepped away from it to take in his surroundings.
What the hell? The boy thought to himself, his eyes widening a bit.
His eyes had been given the odd sight of chairs being pushed into the table. With nobody physically pushing them. A dish rag was cleaning said table at the same time, and like the chairs, nobody was actually doing the cleaning. The rag was... cleaning the table. On its own. As it floated there. The dishes were picking themselves up and landing on a nearby tray, that once it was full, a server came by and picked it up. Then the shock passed. So magic was real after all... not that big of a deal, really. The things that went on at home were, quite frankly, far more impressive. Another look at his letter of invitation told him to talk to the bartender, so he went over there.
"Excuse me," the man said to the bartender. "I'm looking for Tom."
"You've got him," said the bartender, looking at the visitor with a light smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm the new professor for Hogwarts, and I was told to come here first for supplies."
"Ah! I've been expecting you! Come this way, I'll show you where to get your things. You have your list, right?"
"Alright, then, I'll open up the way and you can get shopping. Once you're done, come on back to the Leaky Cauldron and you'll stay a couple nights here before heading to Hogwarts."
"Got it," nodded the young man with the short red brick-colored hair.
Once the bartender pulled out his stick – wand, the visitor reminded himself – and tapped the appropiate bricks on the wall. When the wall began to fold apart and reveal a fairly busy and large alleyway, the new professor couldn't help but let his jaw fall open. If physics would've allowed it, it would be touching the floor at the moment. Then he shut it, because he reminded himself once more that his home country was more impressive.
"Alright, see you in an hour or two," Tom said with a wave, as he left to go back to work.
The young man nodded in reply, and stepped into the alleyway, noting how the entrance closed behind him as he moved away from it. With how magic's abilities seemed so ranged, it was wise to be wary of its abilities. Once he made sure it was safe – with a fairly quick sweep of the area – the man moved on and began to purchase that which his letter required and recommended of him. Cauldrons, quills, parchment, the usual. He went through it systematically, buying only the necessary items with the money the bartender had said was from the school. Thankfully, Tom had also explained their monetary system. Gold ones are galleons, silver are sickels, and bronze are knuts. Seventeen sickles to a galleon, and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Frankly, the weirded money system the man had ever heard of. Either way, everything was absolutely normal – as normal as shopping in a magical place could be – until he entered the wand shop, apparently owned by a man named Ollivander and where wands had been made for several centuries. The dimly lit shop was quite... homey, actually. It had a nice, gentle atmoshpere, what with its huge amounts of box-filled shelves and the single desk and the wand on a pillow in the windowsill. The little bell that rang when the door was opened was nice, as well.
Hmm... am I just supposed to pick one out? Thought the foreign man, but then the shopkeeper came out from between the shelves.
"Ah, you must be the man I am waiting for," The elderly male said calmly, to which the younger one nodded.
"Yes, sir," He said politely.
"Nozawa. Aromi Nozawa."
"Alright, Mr. Nozawa, which is your wand-hand?"
"Umm... my dominant hand?"
"My right hand," Aromi said, as he held it out, sensing what was to happen.
Ollivander pulled a small measuring tape out of nowhere, and began measuring the arm, while the new professor waited patiently. Years of his former job taught him how to have plenty of it... but it was when the man stepped away and the tape kept measuring that he raised an eyebrow. Once the shopkeeper came back and waved his hand, the tape fell with a small noise to the floor, utterly limp.
"Very well, Mr. Nozawa, let us begin with this one," Ollivander said, removing it from the box and handing it to him. "Give it a swish."
"What for?" Aromi asked, intriquied, as he did so. A moment later, the lamp on the man's desk no longer existed, making the young man wince and hand back the wand. "Never mind, I understand... the wand chooses who wields it, right?"
"That would be correct. It seems that this pheonix feather is not meant for you, Mr. Nozawa."
A second wand was brought forth, introduced as being a mahogany, twelve-inch dragon heartstring wand. The result was that Mr. Ollivander lost a large chunk of his desk. The third wand, a fourteen-inch, oak, unicorn tail hair-core wand didn't do nearly as much damage... if you consider having an entire row of shelves collapsing minor damage. But the shopkeeper seemed to be taking it all in stride; probably because he'd been through this quite a few times. At last, however, the man brought forth a thirteen-and-half-inch, maple wood, unicorn tail hair-core. The very instant the handle was gripped firmly in the new teacher's hand, a warm, pleasant feeling rushed through him, making his patient smile grow a bit more as a few sparks were emitted from the tip of the wand.
"Well, then, Mr. Nozawa, that appears to be the wand for you," Ollivander said calmly, as he recorded it. "That will be ten galleons, please."
Aromi paid and thanked the man for his patience in addition to apologizing for the damage. As he had suspected, the man had been through such a thing many times before, and knew from plenty of experience how to take it in stride. Not ten minutes later, the new professor was to be found in his rented room inside the Leaky Cauldron, resting and calmly adjusting to his new situation, as he re-read the letter once more.
Dear Mr. Nozawa,
We would like to request for you to become a professor at our school of Hogwarts. It is a school teaching young witches and wizards the basics of how to control the magic they are born with. During previous years, we have had a teacher similar to yourself present this subject in earlier years, and would like to return it to the school this year. It would be greatly appreciated if you were to accept.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
It had seemed so strange at the time, when he'd received it. The subject they wanted him to teach how about the creatures he knew so well since he grew up with them: Pokémon. After about a day, he had essentially said "What heck, why not?" and replied with a yes. No more than a day later, the second letter had arrived:
Dear Mr. Nozawa,
We are pleased to know that you have accepted our offer. The transportation has been arranged, and everything has been prepared. Upon arrival, you will receive the necessary funds and materials in order for you to effectively teach your class how to take care of the magical creatures your land calls Pokémon. We look forward to seeing you among our staff this year.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy
Of course, he'd held his skepticism about magic the entire way there. Although the trip had been fairly short. After talking to his friends and family – such as his mother, Cynthia, Prof. Rowan, and everyone else – he'd gone. The "portkey", as it was called, had been quite the... unique... experience. Which only served to floor him upon arrival and cause him to nearly lose his breakfast, the damn thing. From then on, he'd proceeded to get his necessary materials – which he now had – and continuing to get ready. His Luxray was curled up at his side on the bed, as he put aside the letter, turned out the bedside lamp, turned over, and quickly fell asleep...
A/N: Alright, it'd be awesome to have some reviews from you guys to tell me what you think. Chapter Two is already going through my head, as well. Awesome! By the way, this will take place in Harry's fifth year. Mostly because it's easy to do, but also because it'll be an easier way to mess with Umbridge and Malfoy at the same time. Hurray! Also, that beginning quote wasn't supposed to have any meaning. I'll be doing that a lot for this story: opening up with meaningless quotes and using song lyrics as scene breaks.
Also, if you would like to see what the trainer looks like before he puts on his robes and stuff, look here up my dA account (EliteBeatAgent). It'll be easy to find from there.