Professor Kukui was still enthusiastically continuing his move-lecture class, but this time Hermione—normally the most eager student—seemed distracted. Her eyes kept darting toward Draco Malfoy, as if she found him… interesting.
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron, ever the battle enthusiasts, were completely drawn into what Kukui was saying.
What kinds of moves were their Pokémon best at, anyway?
"I think Inferno's better at physical moves, don't you? He loves tearing into opponents with his teeth," Ron mused.
"Good point." Harry nodded. He had recently sent his Houndour to live with Sirius for a while—since both he and Professor Lupin were away at school, Sirius had been rather lonely at home. Kreacher's attitude toward him had improved a bit, though the portrait of his mother still had nothing kind to say.
Just a few days ago, Sirius had written that he and Houndour got along great. Every day, he transformed into a large black dog and ran around with it—that was a joy Houndour could never experience at school.
"Nimbus's definitely better at special attacks—its signature moves are all Fire-type. Same goes for Roundy. You know, Mum actually wanted Roundy to stay home," Ron continued, veering off topic, "since he can dig holes to drive away the garden gnomes."
"Fred and George's Pokémon are Ground-types too, but they're not that fond of digging. Plus, the poison spikes on their backs ruin the vegetables—Mum's not too pleased with them."
"Not exactly—" Neville turned his head. "Ponyta and its evolved form, Rapidash, are more inclined toward physical moves. Houndoom, on the other hand, specializes in special attacks. Though to be fair, the difference isn't that huge—practically negligible."
Those were answers he'd learned directly from Charles.
Sometimes, when he was too tired from sword practice, Neville would ask about other people's Pokémon in the club—and indeed, he'd learned far more detailed information than any textbook could offer.
"What about Pikachu and Electabuzz?" Harry quickly asked.
He wanted to know which direction to focus on when training his Pokémon.
"Both Pikachu and Electabuzz have balanced stats in physical and special attacks," Kukui said as he overheard their whispers and walked over. "But once Electabuzz evolves into Electivire, it leans more toward physical offense. As for Pikachu…"
Kukui drew out his words deliberately.
To be honest, Pikachu wasn't exactly a great Pokémon to raise.
Once it evolved into Raichu, it could at least have decent offensive power—and if it evolved into the Alolan variant, it'd be even stronger. But if left unevolved, its meager stamina and defenses would make survival difficult.
Of course, that wasn't always the case.
If it became a true Partner Pokémon, then that was a different story.
"As for how to train it—speed!"
"Speed?" Harry tilted his head.
Not power, not special attack—but speed? That felt like a strange approach. Professor Gold's Pikachu was incredibly strong, after all!
Surely Pikachu should be a special attacker, right?
But then again, hadn't his own Pikachu once smashed Voldemort in the face?
"Pikachu's body is small, so if it's fast and agile enough, it might be able to dodge all attacks and strike back full force!" Kukui explained. "And if you want to boost its offensive power, there's one particular item—the Light Ball. But that's a topic for another time."
"Anyway, Pikachu shows that not every Pokémon wins by relying purely on physical or special attacks. For such Pokémon, the key to survival lies in mastering status and support moves…"
The class continued. Malfoy sat in the front row, more attentive than anyone else.
Hermione had been staring at him for so long that, to her, that single class felt like the longest one she'd ever taken in her life.
"Did you all take notes?"
Harry, Ron, and Neville immediately nodded.
"Good. Then lend them to me tonight. For now—we move!" Hermione said briskly and led the way out.
After class, it was free activity time. Students could battle in the academy's training fields—or go out to find Pokémon.
"Goyle, what about you—battle or explore?" Malfoy asked his only remaining companion. "A pity Crabbe isn't with us. I heard he tried to steal Neville Longbottom's Pokémon—how utterly classless."
"I'll battle first," Goyle replied. "I'm not as good as you, Malfoy. You've won enough matches to trade for a Poké Ball already."
That envy made Malfoy's smirk widen.
Lately, he'd been improving rapidly, as if guided by some unseen master. After several weeks, he'd racked up far more wins than losses and earned a good pile of battle points. But more importantly—he had a new Poké Ball in his bag, one containing a Seviper!
The thought both thrilled and terrified him. What if someone found out?
So, he came up with an idea: if he went out now and pretended to catch this Seviper, then it would rightfully be his!
When Goyle said he was going to battle, Malfoy sighed in relief.
"Good luck—don't embarrass me," he said, then walked alone out of the castle. Goyle went in the opposite direction, toward the training grounds.
Hermione and the others immediately came out of hiding.
"This is our chance—they've split up!" she said, releasing her Skiploom. "I just need Goyle to take a little nap…"
She followed him closely. Skiploom hovered above his head like a little helicopter and sprinkled Sleep Powder down. The dust entered Goyle's nose—and he promptly dozed off.
The trio quickly dragged him into an empty classroom and tied him up.
"That was easy!" Ron said cheerfully.
"I feel a bit guilty," Neville murmured, looking at the bound Goyle with some sympathy.
"Oh, please, we're not ransoming him—we'll untie him later." Ron rolled his eyes, then pulled out a vial of the potion they'd prepared yesterday. "So, who's taking Goyle's place? And who are the others turning into?"
"I'll do it," Hermione said firmly. She didn't trust Ron or Harry to ask the right questions.
She tilted her head back and drank the Polyjuice Potion. A moment later, her body writhed like gelatin—and transformed into Goyle.
"Oh, this feels so weird," "Goyle" grimaced. Her body felt all wrong—especially the uncomfortable sensation between her legs. She knew what it was, and wisely kept her hands to herself.
Seeing Hermione succeed, the others followed suit.
"I'll be Carrow," Ron declared, shutting his eyes tight.
Harry and Neville each pictured someone from their minds.
The next instant, their bones felt as though they were melting, their bodies turning into puddles of flesh—only to quickly re-form into new shapes.
Harry felt his hair lengthening. Something down below… retracting.
He suddenly had a very bad feeling.
A few minutes later, the three "Slytherins" turned to look at him—eyes wide.
"W-what?" Harry said, and froze at the sound of his own voice—higher, softer, almost musical.
"What do you mean, what? You've turned into a girl, Harry!" one of them exclaimed. "This is insane—who the heck did you turn into?"
Harry could tell immediately—that was Ron talking.
"There's no such Slytherin—change back!" "Goyle" said urgently.
"But… I mean, maybe it's not that bad?" Ron hesitated. "Hey, Harry—no, Harriet—you actually look kinda cute. Maybe you could still go with us; Malfoy won't recognize every Slytherin, right?"
"I'm not expecting good ideas from you—just please don't make them worse!" "Goyle" snapped.
"Change again, quickly," Neville said. "The potion only lasts three hours. If Malfoy gets too far, we'll miss him."
Harry nodded. He didn't want to stay like this either.
He pictured another Slytherin from the Quidditch team—but this time, nothing happened.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you like this!" Hermione asked in disbelief.
"No! I just can't change back!" Harry said in panic.
"That's impossible!" Hermione gasped, fear flickering in her eyes—was she stuck too? But when she thought about turning back, her body immediately reverted to normal.
So did Ron and Neville.
Only Harry—now Harriet—remained unchanged, his transformation completely stuck.
"Oh no—you might never change back, mate! Or, uh, sis!" Ron said with a grin. "Want to see how you look? You're honestly adorable!"
"Spare me," Harry groaned. "Just go after Malfoy already. The clock's ticking."
He just wanted them gone before the embarrassment killed him.
Soon, they left.
Harry sat alone in the classroom, unsure what to do. Curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to find a mirror to see what she actually looked like.
She—no, he—lifted a slender hand to brush aside his fringe, hiding his scar, and peeked out the door.
Seeing no one, he breathed out and stepped into the hallway.
"The bathroom should be this way…"
He finally found it—but out of habit, walked straight into the boys' bathroom, only to find someone inside.
The boy turned crimson at the sight of her and shouted,"This is the boys' bathroom!"
"I know, I'm just—sorry!"
Only then did Harry remember—she was a girl now. Covering her face, she bolted out of the room. But going into the girls' bathroom felt impossible too.
After thinking it over, she decided to leave the castle entirely and spend the remaining hours in the reserve.
"It's fine. The potion only lasts three hours—it'll wear off," Harry kept telling herself. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't understand why her potion had turned into a gender-bender version while everyone else's worked perfectly.
Could Snape have tampered with it, knowing they'd steal it?
If so—he was truly insufferable!
While Harry fumed, Hermione's group had already found Malfoy.
"Goyle? Weren't you going to battle? Back so soon?" Malfoy frowned, glancing suspiciously at the two other "Slytherins" behind "Goyle."
"I lost," Hermione improvised. "Did you catch your Pokémon yet?"
No way he could've caught one in such a short time, Malfoy thought—but thankfully, he didn't actually need to.
"Of course," he smirked, taking out a Poké Ball. "My newest capture—Seviper!"
He released it, and a massive serpent slithered out. Seviper's body gleamed with dark scales, its fangs glinting and the blade on its tail shining wickedly—it was clearly a creature born for battle.
Just looking at it made Hermione's heart skip.
"And who are you supposed to be?" Malfoy asked, lifting his chin. He must've assumed Neville and Ron were troublemakers, because he didn't hesitate to send out Seviper, ready to defend his underling's honor.
But Ron and Neville frantically waved their hands—they weren't here to fight.
Their Pokémon were too recognizable anyway; few trainers at Hogwarts owned a Ponyta or Chikorita.
"Malfoy, we're actually curious about the Heir of Slytherin," Ron said. "Your father used to serve Voldemort, then became Professor Gold's informant. He must've told you something, right?"
At that, Malfoy's expression twisted in disgust.
"Don't lump my family in with that noseless freak," he said sharply. "My father was deceived, that's all."
"As for this so-called Heir of Slytherin—I've heard of it, vaguely."
He furrowed his brow, trying to recall where—something more than just that Halloween night—but he couldn't quite remember.
"Anyway, I'd advise you not to dig into it," he said seriously. "It won't do you any good. It's almost the twenty-first century—do people really still believe in all that pure-blood nonsense?"
He sighed, shaking his head."And anyone who looks down on Muggle-borns should first compare themselves to second-year Hermione Granger and see who's really stronger."
With that, Draco Malfoy turned on his heel and left, muttering about how backwards everyone's thinking still was.
(End of Chapter)