The selection for the Pokémon Master Club was scheduled for Monday evening, and by Friday—it would be Halloween.
"Honestly, I thought the club would be holding this in the professor's sanctuary," Ron said as he and Harry made their way toward the location listed on the notice board.
"But this works too," Harry replied. "Makes it feel like the sanctuary is our secret base."
"Of course not," Hermione immediately interjected. "It's not being held there because there are too many Pokémon in the sanctuary."
"I said it feels like it, not that it actually is," Ron retorted, ever ready to argue. Harry, used to the two of them bickering, merely smiled.
Since they often visited the sanctuary together, their friendship was actually stronger than it had been in the original story—but Ron and Hermione still couldn't seem to go five minutes without squabbling.
Amid the noise and laughter, the group arrived at their destination. By then, a considerable number of students had already gathered.
"A classroom?" Ron frowned.
"I bet the professor cast an Extension Charm," Hermione speculated. "Otherwise, there's no way it could fit this many people."
"But using an Extension Charm privately is against the law—"
"Oh, do shut up, Hermione."
The moment they entered, the trio realized something was off. The "classroom" was nearly as large as the Great Hall, easily big enough to hold the entire student body of Hogwarts.
And it didn't even look like a classroom at all.
Instead, it resembled a small stadium.
Which, in fact, it was.
Charles had modeled it after the Pokémon League Conference arena—a scaled-down version, of course. With Hogwarts having far fewer students than a city tournament, there was no need for massive spectator stands. The battlefields, however, needed space.
At present, there were seven battle arenas laid out across the room, each roughly the size of a basketball court.
That meant this year's club wouldn't be admitting too many members.
Charles had originally planned to accept three to four students per year group—no more than five. But the sheer number of students showing up tonight exceeded all his expectations.
He was half convinced that every student in Hogwarts had shown up.
Fortunately, that wasn't quite the case. The Slytherin team had Quidditch practice that night, and though Pokémon intrigued them, the allure of Quidditch still took priority.
After all, most of them had only ever read about Pokémon on parchment—they hadn't yet experienced the thrill of an actual Pokémon battle.
At seven o'clock sharp, Charles closed the doors and stepped up onto the raised platform. The crowd fell into a hush as he raised his hand.
Strictly speaking, "young wizards" wasn't entirely accurate—many of the seventh-years were the same age as he was.
"Quiet down, everyone."
"To be honest, I didn't expect this many people to be interested in joining the Pokémon Master Club," Charles began, his voice calm but resonant. "Unfortunately, that also means only a few of you will be able to become official members tonight."
A faint murmur rippled through the students, but Charles continued, smiling slightly.
"Don't worry. Whether you came determined to win a spot, or simply to see what this is all about, I promise tonight will be an extraordinary experience."
"Now, please take your seats according to your year, not your House. Afterward, I'll assign opponents by lottery. Winners advance to the next round, but remember—if you perform well enough, even a loss might earn you a place in the club."
Harry and Ron immediately began looking for the section designated for first-years. The crowd was enormous, and it took them several dizzy minutes to find the right seats. Just as Harry sat down, an unpleasant voice drifted over.
"Move along, Potter. Don't be an eyesore."
Draco Malfoy was sneering at him.
Harry blinked, realizing too late that he'd sat down beside Malfoy. He started to get up—but there were no empty seats left. Scowling, he sat back down.
"I don't recall this classroom being your property, Malfoy. If you don't want to sit near me, why don't you move?"
"Just wait," Draco hissed, his pale face twisting. "If we're matched against each other, you'll regret it."
He could've easily swapped with Crabbe or Goyle—but that would look like backing down, and he refused to give Potter that satisfaction.
The two glared daggers at each other.
Charles, watching from the platform, noticed their exchange.
He didn't say a word—but he subtly waved his wand, making a quiet adjustment to two specific numbers in the lottery.
A flick of his wrist—and hundreds of slips of parchment burst into motion, swirling through the air like a silvery storm. They spun together into a cocoon-like shape, glowing faintly. The papers danced too fast for anyone to see the numbers written on them.
Then, like a river breaking apart, the papers flowed down toward the students.
They fluttered through the air like a flock of white butterflies, each one hovering before a student's eyes, waiting for them to take it.
Harry carefully caught his slip, but before he could read it, Ron shouted from beside him,"I'm Number Five! So my opponent's Number Six! Harry—you're not Six, are you?"
"Nope, I'm Seven," Harry said quickly.
At that, Draco nearly jumped out of his seat with glee, twirling his own slip that read "8" between his fingers. His grin was full of smug delight.
"Our poor little Potter's Number Seven, is he? Looks like he'll be losing to me very soon."
"Only if you manage to show up this time," Harry shot back. "Try not to run away before it even starts—like last time."
He was, of course, referring to their midnight duel that never happened—because Draco had tricked them all.
"But… how are we supposed to battle with Pokémon?" Seamus asked nervously. "I mean—we don't have any Pokémon, right?"
"The professor must be providing us some to use," Dean guessed.
Still, Seamus looked uneasy. After all, this was the first real battle they'd ever take part in.
Most students had only seen Pokémon once—during their very first lesson. Few could imagine commanding one in an actual fight.
Harry and his friends, however, were calm. They'd spent plenty of time in the sanctuary and had gotten to know several Pokémon personally.
"Now then," Charles announced, raising his wand, "students with Numbers One and Two—please come forward to the battlefield."
Fourteen young wizards stood up and, according to their year group, stepped onto different arenas.
The third-year representatives happened to be none other than the Weasley twins.
Charles blinked at the coincidence, then smiled. "Well, that should be interesting."
The students took their positions, some still looking uncertain. Suddenly, the ground beside each of them rose up—revealing a sleek metallic device. With a soft hiss, each device opened, revealing a red-and-white Poké Ball.
"Another piece of technology," Hermione murmured, frowning. "How did the professor make electronics work at Hogwarts?"
"Maybe it's… alchemy or something?" Ron offered lazily, clearly uninterested in her theorizing. His eyes were glued to the arena, excitement practically radiating from him.
This was going to be his first time witnessing a real Pokémon battle.
(End of Chapter)