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Elemental Trinity

A Harry Potter/Pokémon Crossover

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Dec 22, 1994; 8:00 AM ; Outside of Hagrid's Hut

"Do you think he'll still be angry?" I rolled my neck to get the kink out, to no avail.

I'd slept on it wrong, the night before— this was on top of the fact that I had already overworked myself that day to begin with.

Between the dueling practice session with Greengrass, and the four way battle I had with my Pokémon— Charmeleon's evolution and subsequent rampage included— I had to say I felt very tired.

I should've slept in a little longer. Part of me protested. Maybe I should take a nap in Hagrid's place. I'm sure he won't mind.

"Hard to say." Red replied, cutting the annoying voice off. "It's likely that most of his aggression has already been worked off, but it's possible that he hasn't come back to his senses just yet."

"Ye'll have to be firm and stern, 'Arry." Hagrid agreed with Red. "Don't show yer fear. Animals can smell tha'."

"Doubly so with Pokémon, considering their enhanced intelligence and instincts." Red added, which made me frown.

"Why…" I said in confusion. My brow furrowed further. "I don't understand."

"Erm…" Hagrid also seemed at a loss.

"I know that look." Red said, nodding in the Pokédex display. "The study of Pokémon behavior has been an interest of mine for years. When they fully understand humans and, at points, even have higher intelligence, why are they still beholden to their own instincts?"

An entire field of study based on this one concept.

"The answer is that it's still a mystery, but that there is something which dictates how they behave. Part of it is an ingrained, powerful instinct— the predator/prey instinct, for example." Red paused for a moment. "But we couldn't explain certain things, like how the psychics just… knew things they shouldn't have. I'm not talking about personal information or anything like that. Things like the World of Distortion..."

World of Distortion?

Here, Red shook his head and sighed, looking rueful. "But enough of that. You've come to see if we could successfully rein Charmeleon's newfound violent impulses in, not get an impromptu lesson in Pokémon instincts and the Legends."

It's certainly a more interesting thing to learn about than doing this. I thought with a wince, but made no further comment. I released Bulbasaur and Squirtle.

They took one look at me, then at Hagrid and immediately understood, nodding in determination.

Frightfully intelligent, I thought with a rush of pride.

"Ready?" Hagrid asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

I nodded and grabbed Charmeleon's Pokéball, banishing thoughts of the World of Distortion, Pokémon behavior and their intelligence out of my mind. "Wish me luck."

There was no flourish, no fanfare. I pressed the button, and Charmeleon was out in a flash of light.

And he still looked pissed. Almost immediately, he snarled and growled at his two friends, who readied themselves for another brutal fight.

He lunged at Bulby, hoping to inflict enough damage on the Pokémon he had an advantage over before the fight could start properly.

This time, however, I was ready. "Petrificus Totalus!"

The white light enveloped the evolved Pokémon and, amazingly enough, it only slowed it down, rather than completely immobilize it!

Higher magical resistance in the evolved state. My mind quickly deduced as I watched Charmeleon slowly regain his faculties.

My anger surged at the foolish struggle. If he kept this going, he would not only hurt Bulby, but also himself!

"Enough!" I roared, my high voice shocking the Pokémon out of his enraged state— he'd never heard me raise my voice like this.

He froze, staring at me in incomprehension. Did he not recognize me?

"Charman— Charmeleon!" I quickly corrected myself, gesturing at the angry Pokémon's surroundings. "Don't you recognize us?"

Charmeleon's eyes swiveled wildly from me, to Hagrid, to Squirtle and Bulby, slowing down as a glimmer of intelligence and recognition returned into his eyes.

"That's it." I nodded, my previous harsh tones softening. "Come back to us, buddy."

His breathing leveled off and his body no longer looked as tense as it had just a second ago— a good sign of him calming down.

But, just in case, I kept the spell up longer, continuing to talk to the Pokémon while gently reaching out towards him. "It's us. Bulby, Squirtle, me and even Hagrid! You love Hagrid."

He turned his gaze to the giant again, who looked a mix of cautious and happy. It was interesting to see the secondary bond shared between Hagrid and Charmeleon.

"I got your favorite." Hagrid reached into one of his many pockets, pulling out a bag of berries.

Eyes widening in recognition at the gesture, the sound of Hagrid's voice, as well as his favorite meal, Charmeleon turned his gaze back to me, his expression much softer than it used to be.

He stopped struggling.

Are you serious? On the inside I was relieved and annoyed. All that effort and talking and trying to get him to recognize me, Squirtle and Bulby... He just switches moods when Hagrid brings him food!? Unbelievable.

I heard Red's faint snicker from my pants pocket.

"Don't." I warned, suppressing the flash of annoyance.

Fortunately, Red did not rise to the occasion. With a sigh, I let the spell go.

Charmeleon, now able to move again, flexed his arms and legs and turned to Hagrid, before freezing and staring at his arms once again, as if seeing them for the first time.

Afterward, his gaze turned to the ground, giving out a confused cry.

Immediately, I understood.

"You evolved." I explained, watching as the Pokémon's head snapped to me in surprise.

Another questioning, but now excited cry came out of the creature. In response, Hagrid rushed into the hut. "I'll bring a mirror."

Barely ten seconds passed when Hagrid came back out, holding a mirror that I would have had trouble carrying even with another person's help. He placed it on the ground in front of Charmeleon.

Bulby and Squirtle made to approach their brother, but I held my hand up, forestalling whatever interaction they could've started.

While Charmeleon was no longer displaying any aggressive tendencies, it was still best to wait to see how this particular event played out.

His reaction to his own evolution could signify a shift in our dynamics. If he suddenly began to bully the other two, then it would turn ugly.

Charmeleon stared at his own reflection for the longest moment, eyes taking his new height, bulk, coloration and tail flame in.

"How are you feeling?" I hedged, approaching the bipedal lizard cautiously.

Charmeleon stared at me out of the corner of his eye, before shooting himself one final look, rearing his head back and blasting a pillar of flame up in the air.

The fire easily cleared the Forest's treeline.

It was even stronger than what he'd produced in the Chamber of Secrets! Had the short time of rest really helped him that much?

"Blimey!" Hagrid exclaimed, his excitement incalculable. "Would yer look at the size of tha'!"

I nodded in agreement, impressed despite myself. "If he'd evolved before the First Task, he could've probably posed a challenge to the Horntail all on his own."

Charmeleon's mouth snapped shut, killing his fire and turning to stare appreciatively back at his reflection.

"Oh, dear." Red said, watching as Charmeleon, to my amusement, began to pose in front of the mirror.

I facepalmed. Of course.

So, Charmeleon hadn't only grown more aggressive, but he was also vain, huh?

I had my work cut out for me.

ooooo

Dec 25, 1994; 1:00 PM; Hogwarts Greenhouses

I stared at the strange plant in my hand and sighed. "This looks nothing like what I was hoping for."

This just isn't your week, Potter. My mind slyly said.

I wanted to sigh again, but successfully resisted the impulse.

Charma—Charmeleon, I reminded myself— was starting to get on my nerves. Red, for once, was not giving me any helpful advice other than suggesting a 'wait and see' approach.

When asked why, he'd simply said that I needed to solve issues on my own, and that he was busy researching my other problem. Apparently, my off-hand suggestion of repurposing the process used to create a portrait bore fruit in Red's research.

Both he and Dumbledore were hard at work on that front, which lifted my spirits slightly— at least until I looked at the piece of fruit in my hand.

"You're right." Neville replied, pushing my hand and re-adjusting the fruit's stalk.

He turned to me, looking a little miffed. "If you'd let me explain before dropping by unannounced and making assumptions, that would be very much appreciated."

I winced, realizing I probably deserved that one. I'd essentially barged in here not a minute ago demanding progress.

It had been a really stressful day.

"I'm sorry." I rubbed my forehead, trying to keep the headache at bay and failing miserably. "It's been a long few days."

"Issues with your… Charmillion, you called it?" Neville inquired, putting the last few touches on the plant and letting it rest.

"Charmeleon— like a chameleon." I corrected and took a deep breath. "Yes, dealing with him is getting pretty tiresome."

"Yeah…" Neville trailed off with a wince, rubbing at his slightly burned forearm— Charmeleon had decided to spit fire at him a day ago and Neville had bolted immediately. "Bit of a handful, he is."

"You don't know the half of it!" I blurted out, pacing in the Greenhouse.

"Careful, you'll bother the plants! Professor Sprout is growing most of these herself, from her own pocket!" Neville scolded in slight panic and I winced, stopping my pacing immediately.

I fiddled with my winter wear, the heat of the Greenhouse starting to get to me.

Neville's look softened. "I was going to close up here, anyway. I'll meet you outside in five?"

I nodded, the heat of embarrassment rushing to my cheeks making me feel that much more uncomfortable. "All right. I'll wait."

I felt the crisp December air brush against my face and sighed in contentment for the first time that day. If anything, at least the weather's beautiful. The night will be even better.

Not a cloud in sight, I noted as I relaxed against the Greenhouse wall, letting everything go for a while.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I stayed like that, luxuriating in the breeze's cold, but ever-so-sweet caress. All of my worries just leached away into the void; my aggravation over Charmeleon, my trepidation over the Horcrux in my scar, my nervousness over the Yule Ball that was supposed to take place in a few hours…

I let it all go and just breathed— if only for a little while.

Eventually, even this blissful little break had to come to an end. I heard the Greenhouse door open with a loud creak and turned my head to the right, witnessing Neville come out of the Greenhouse.

I still marveled at the boy, from time to time. Ever since he'd confronted his grandmother and gotten himself a new wand, he'd changed; he didn't transform into a new person, per se.

He was obviously still the humble boy I'd always known, but there was certainly something else there; it was a confidence he'd never dared to show before.

Had he been that beaten down by everyone around him that I never noticed the hidden potential he carried? Had I been letting Neville down these past three years?

You could've helped him.

I hadn't known he was suffering that badly!

The signs were there. The sly part of me pointed out. You saw them, but like everyone else, you ignored him because you felt he truly was beyond notice.

The sad part is, I had no way to even argue that. It was all true. I had been so caught up in being in a world of magic, so pleased to have an outgoing friend like Ron as well as a smart friend like Hermione that I hadn't even bothered talking all that much to even Dean and Seamus, let alone poor Neville.

I felt the swell of guilt as I sidled up to my friend, beginning the trek back to the castle proper.

"You've had a moment to calm down, I see." Neville pointed out— yet another thing he would never have done before, had he not had his talk with his grandmother.

"Yes." I nodded in agreement. "The air out here is perfect."

"At least one of us thinks so." Neville chuckled as he wrapped his cloak around him tightly. "I'm not much of a fan of the cold. I prefer the Greenhouse temperatures."

Trust Neville to be like his plants— in more ways than one.

I smiled in amusement, but nodded politely nonetheless.

"So, your trouble with Charmeleon?" Neville said as we entered Hogwarts Castle proper, aimlessly walking through the hallways. We had nothing but free time until the Yule Ball was set to start— it would be perfect to just chat and relax.

Perhaps even procrastinate! One could only hope.

"Yeah." I frowned, thinking of the handful that Charmeleon was being right now. "Ever since his evolution, he's been very difficult to get along with."

"From what I've seen, yes." Neville agreed, rubbing at his still sore spot. Even with salves, it would still take some time to fully heal the burn he'd received. "Any ideas on how to deal with this?"

"That's the thing." I took a calming breath as we leaned against a wall in one of the many hallways, students throwing the both of us curious stares as they passed us by. "I don't know. I've had a few ideas that I've rejected—"

"—what are they?" Neville cut me off.

I frowned and recalled one of them. "Well, one idea was to just beat him down successively until he acknowledged me once again."

In the corner of my eye, Neville winced.

"That was my reaction, too." I snorted, amused. "For one, he's too strong to keep beating down like that. Two, I don't actually want to do that."

"True." Neville allowed. "What else, then?"

"Wait it out?" I repeated Red's words to me before scoffing. "I don't think that'd work. It seems as if this behavior is going to get worse with every win I give him. I don't think I should let him win."

The both of us went quiet for a while, as Neville absorbed the comment. I could tell that the cogs in his brain were working overtime in an attempt to help me.

I smiled and made to tell him that it was all right, that I'd figure it out myself when he fixed his gaze to me and spoke.

"Why not have him fight to his heart's content in the Forest?" Was the boy's suggestion.

"I—" I was going to reply before frowning. "I'm… not sure?"

"Think about it." Neville continued, moving a step forward to me, with a bit of an excited look. "You said he's got plenty of pent-up aggression, right?"

I processed the information and nodded in agreement, the idea quickly growing on me. "And he can work it off in the Forest! And, he may eventually fight something he can't beat!"

Even now, Charmeleon could still not truly damage the dead Basilisk's hide, so there was bound to be something in the Forest that would at least give him a hard time.

"Precisely!" Neville smiled. "This could be your solution."

I smiled back, feeling grateful for the boy's help. He really liked to put others' needs first, didn't he?

"I'm really sorry about barging into the Greenhouse like that, Neville." I said suddenly, catching him by surprise.

"U-um." He stuttered, looking away. "It's all right."

"No, no." I shook my head. "I could have gotten you into serious trouble with Professor Sprout. For that, I truly am sorry."

"I said it's all right." Now he seemed a little more annoyed than flustered. "It's been a bad few days, like you said. Plus, you didn't really do any damage. Just moved a plant."

I nodded, remembering the failed attempt at making a hybrid of an acorn and an apricot. "About that…"

"Rediscovering an old hybrid is a process which takes time." Neville answered as if he knew exactly what I was about to ask. "What you saw was the cross between today's apricots and acorns. I've researched the individual plants of course in all of their variations."

I nodded, soundlessly urging the boy to continue with his explanation.

"The thing about growing specific strains of plants is that each generation is different from the one which came before it." Neville obliged. "Modern tomatoes, for example, look nothing like the first wild tomatoes discovered hundreds of years ago. Through selective breeding, we were able to increase their size many times over— from the size of a berry to the size of an apple, in fact."

I absorbed the words, before replying. "So, what you're saying is that the apricorn from thousands of years ago will have to be rediscovered through this selective breeding?"

"You've got it." Neville confirmed, looking a little excited. "I'm not sure how you'll be able to make that plant do what you described, but it's only a matter of time until I find the perfect strain for you."

I nodded. "How much time?"

Here, Neville shrugged. "Could be weeks, could be months, even could be years."

A long-term project, then. I thought.

"It seems fair." I replied before another, more worrying thought came to me. "Do you think Professor Sprout will let you keep that spot for yourself?"

"Harry." Neville snorted. "I've owned this spot since my first year of Hogwarts."

"Oh." I scratched the back of my head, feeling a little sheepish.

"I know it's not as brilliant as the Nimbus Two Thousand you received back then, but I guess I impressed Professor Sprout enough that she let me have this space." Neville mused. "The spot actually belongs to her. She just lets me use it and, in exchange, I simply maintain the health of the plants of the Greenhouse."

"Good deal, that." I nodded. That way, he could pursue his own goals while still making Sprout's workload easier.

A stray thought made me frown. "You've helped with the Mandrakes two years ago, as well?"

A moment of silence passed.

"Yes." Neville said. "Hermione's my friend, too, you know. You and Ron weren't the only ones feeling lost without her."

Lost without her, an odd choice of words for someone who was just an acquaintance, back then. I thought. Could it be?

An even longer, more awkward moment passed as the subtle implications of what the boy said came to me.

"Neville." I said slowly. "Do you, erm… You and Hermione?"

"What do you…" Neville mouthed an 'O' of realization, blushing slightly. "Um… I used to feel that way? It's hard to explain."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, mate. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

Neville looked away. "I should go get ready for the Ball."

"All right." I seized the chance. "Take care."

I watched him go, feeling immensely relieved at having dodged that particular conversation.

Best to let that situation play out on its own and far, far away from me.

"That was…" I muttered as he turned a corner and disappeared from view. "Close."

"You're telling me." Red's synthesized voice finally replied.

I perked up, pulling the sleek, red device from my pocket and opening it, revealing a tired looking Red.

"You all right?" I frowned at the man's haggard sight. I hadn't known that an artificial intelligence could even look tired.

Come to think of it… I pulled off one of my gloves and pressed my fingers against the back of the Pokédex. This was a little trick I'd seen Dudley do with one of his many machines last summer.

The back of the Pokédex was toeing the line between being uncomfortably warm and hot— a sign that the machine in question had been pushed close to its very limits.

Still, how would that translate in terms of Red's appearance changing like it did? Was artificial intelligence sentient enough to unconsciously change its displayed appearance depending on how taxed the machine was?

In the end, I shrugged.

This was yet another mystery that likely wouldn't be solved in the immediate future. Plus, if people in portraits could change their clothes and appearance, then there was no reason that Red couldn't do the same.

His existence was something akin to a portrait, after all.

"Honestly, I'm probably not." Red admitted. "I got a little carried away with the simulations."

Immediately, my expression turned serious. "Anything good?"

"Actually, yes." Was Red's answer. "You'll be pleased to know that, using this method of transference could increase your chances by up to 25%! Twenty percent if I'm to be realistic."

"I…" I had no words. "That's great."

We were already up to 55% chance of survival! Not even a month ago

"Granted, these are simulations. There's a chance the real thing would be different, when Albus gets around to making these simulations happen in a controlled environment." Red quickly made sure to point out. "But I've been running the processors on overdrive in order to simulate scenarios as close to real life as I can— I'm sure you can tell by how warm the Pokédex is right now."

I nodded, feeling better about the situation already, despite Red's warnings. 55% was a step beyond 54%, after all.

I remembered, a bit less than a month ago, when Professor Dumbledore had dropped the news onto me. He'd more or less said that I would need to die in order to defeat Voldemort.

I hadn't taken it well, at all.

"It was pretty warm." I confirmed. "And I know what you're trying to tell me. You don't want to get my hopes up for nothing. I get that. Still, I can't shake this feeling, you know?"

Red didn't answer, his expression instead turning contemplative.

"The feeling that, maybe, just maybe, everything's going to turn out alright in the end." I smiled ruefully. "I know; it's strange for me to even say this."

"No, you're right." Red agreed. "Today is one of your people's happiest days, after all. Christmas Day."

"I reckon this all might be a little strange to you." I said. "I'm sure your people would have had different days to celebrate."

"Mostly the same, to be honest." Red shrugged, his appearance slowly improving as we continued to talk alone in the hallway. "Much like your people, we had our harvest festivals, our holy days, and so on. Sometime around now, actually, we would be celebrating the Day of Frost."

Here, Red's image was replaced with a Pokémon's— or, at least, I thought it was a Pokémon. It wasn't like any Pokémon I'd ever seen, before.

The image began to move— a recording, I realized. Surrounded in gentle mist, the creature unfurled its massive, blue wings and let out a haunting cry. The mist swirled powerfully, concentrating itself into chunks of ice before shooting out every which way.

The camera moved away from the blast for a few moments before focusing back on the Pokémon in question. A gigantic, blue bird with ice-like feathers, and snow-like belly. It fixed its red eyes on the camera, before letting out its aurora-like cry once more.

Just as the majestic bird made to attack, the display abruptly shifted back to Red's visage.

"What was that?" I asked, feeling shock reverberate through me at the sight. I hadn't even taken the recording and I was awed by the creature's power.

Charmeleon couldn't even hope to compete with something like that.

"That, Harry." Red said, his face deadly serious. "Was the Legendary Bird of Ice, Articuno."

"Articuno?" I repeated, frowning. "Wait, no. It looks nothing like the one in the files!"

"It doesn't." Red repeated. "That was intentional."

"What do you...?" I felt nothing but confusion. Why would Red have bothered hiding the facts?

"Articuno is— or was, I suppose— important to us. All of the Legendary Three were." Red explained. "It's an old practice we'd kept in place even with the emergence of the Pokédex. It's been so ingrained in me that I hadn't even considered showing it to you, despite my people being long gone."

"Did they do it to protect a rare, cherished species?" It made sense, in a roundabout way. "How does changing its appearance protect it?"

"Well, for one, if one doesn't know what Articuno's true form looked like, they would have that much more trouble finding it, wouldn't you agree?" Red noted, his serious expression softening slightly. "However, the protection isn't for Articuno, no. It's for cocky trainers who dare to treat the Legends as your run of the mill Pokémon."

I frowned. "But, aren't they? I thought they were just Pokémon which were simply stronger than the, for lack of better term, normal ones?"

"Oh, no." Red smiled again, though there was no mirth this time. "Legends are forces of nature; natural disasters given form and sapience. They'd shaped the planet in accordance to their whims. Articuno's power lay in the cold, and it's able to transform a desert into an icy wasteland— in midsummer, mind you— when it exerted its full power. I've seen it happen firsthand."

For a moment, I remembered one of Red's titles. "Defeater of Legendaries?"

Red winced. "You of all people know how overblown titles are. I didn't defeat a Legendary. I merely held it at bay, long enough for the cavalry to arrive."

I frowned, struggling to come to terms with this new information. "If the Legends are as powerful as you say… What happened to them?"

There was silence.

"I wish I knew." Red finally replied, eyes slightly glassy, as if he were lost in his own world.

Another second passed before Red shook his own thoughts away. "But, enough of that. You should go, and get ready for the Ball."

Just like that, the seriousness of the moment faded away into nothing.

I groaned, the nervousness surrounding the fast approaching event coming back with full force. "Oh, yes. I'd almost forgotten all about it."

"You've not." Red smiled.

"Is it too late to skip out?" I asked, beginning to resign myself to the tedious proceedings.

"You wouldn't disappoint poor, sweet Luna, would you?" Red put his hand over his heart. "Such cruelty. I taught you better than this, Harry."

I sighed. Tonight would be a long night.