Draco Malfoy glanced down at the Poké Ball he'd drawn, and his pale face immediately brightened with satisfaction.
An Ekans!
Ekans evolved into Arbok—and Draco could still vividly remember the imposing serpent he'd seen on the very first day of term during their Pokémon Mastery class. The sleek purple coils, the fierce eyes, the majestic hood—it was the perfect match for a proud Slytherin wizard like him!
If anyone in Hogwarts was fit to command a great serpent like that, Draco believed it would have to be either Charles Gold or the great Salazar Slytherin himself. Of course, in his own imagination, he was the more impressive of the two.
Now, to be partnered—by sheer fate!—with an Ekans, even temporarily… surely that was proof that destiny had chosen him.
The heir of Slytherin? It could be no one but Draco Malfoy!
And if not that lofty title, at the very least he could earn himself the nickname of "the Snake Whisperer." The thought made his excitement soar. Before Professor Snape could even announce the start of the match, Draco eagerly snatched up his Poké Ball and hurled it skyward.
With a flash of red light, a two-meter-long, purple serpent materialized before him, coiling proudly with a hiss.
Harry immediately turned his gaze toward Snape. In the previous round just minutes earlier, Neville had released his Pokémon too soon—and Snape had seized upon the excuse to berate him mercilessly for "disrespecting the rules." Harry wanted to see whether Malfoy would be treated the same way.
Clearly, he was expecting too much.
"Harry—Potter," Snape drawled, his dark eyes glinting. "Are you planning to stand there forever? Or are you simply basking in everyone's attention, imagining they're admiring you?"
Every word carried clearly across the classroom, reaching even Quirrell's ears at the far end.
"Understood, Professor," Harry replied flatly, though inwardly he scoffed at his own foolish hope.
Expecting Snape to reprimand Malfoy in front of everyone—when both of them were in the same room? How naïve could he get?
Suppressing his irritation, Harry lifted his Poké Ball. If Snape wouldn't even the field, then he'd just have to do it himself. Time to show Malfoy the difference between arrogance and actual skill.
His Pokémon turned out to be a Vulpix—a rather rare and elegant Fire-type.
In terms of base stats, Vulpix held only a slight advantage over Ekans, but the gap was marginal.
In the stands, Hermione watched intently. The instant she recognized Vulpix, her shoulders tensed—then relaxed as she exhaled in relief.
"Thank goodness," she whispered. "That Ekans probably has Intimidate as its Ability, but that won't affect Vulpix much. If it had Shed Skin, though, that would've been troublesome."
"What? How'd you figure that out?" Ron gawked beside her.
He'd been watching too, but couldn't see anything unusual. Truth be told, even though their first-year textbooks mentioned Pokémon Abilities in passing, Charles had mostly skipped over that section in class.
Understanding type matchups was already hard enough for most of the students—Abilities were a concept reserved for upper years. And even then, few could use them effectively in real battles.
Across the field, the fifth-years' matches were far more intense, since both wizards and Pokémon fought side by side.
By that stage, students had enough combat training to rely on spells like Protego for protection, letting them block weaker attacks outright. Charles had intentionally chosen lower-level Pokémon for those matches to keep things safe, but the danger remained—it was, in essence, a magical version of the Dueling Club.
That was why Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall served as referees for those grades. Each of them had the experience to intervene instantly if something went wrong.
And to their own surprise, both McGonagall and Flitwick had developed a growing fascination with Pokémon. After all, combining Pokémon battles with spellcasting duels offered an entirely new way to assess a student's mastery of charms and transfiguration.
Even Lockhart's ill-fated Dueling Club in the original timeline had achieved something similar—though, of course, Lockhart himself was… well, Lockhart. Hardly anyone could stand him. Even Quirrell, unpleasant smell and all, was a more tolerable teacher.
Back to the match before them—Harry and Malfoy stood face to face, both determined to put the other in his place.
"Begin," Snape said lightly.
The word had barely left his lips before both boys shouted their commands.
"Ekans, use Poison Sting!"
"Vulpix, use Ember!"
A small burst of scarlet flame shot from Vulpix's mouth, meeting Ekans's purple-glowing tail midair as it flung a volley of venom-tipped needles. The needles ignited instantly, but the burning toxins reacted with the flame, swelling and bursting in a sudden explosion.
Neither side scored a hit. Acrid smoke filled the air, the faint sting of burning poison biting at everyone's noses.
The fumes carried a mild toxicity—but nothing serious. Hardly worse than a whiff of bug spray.
Seeing their attacks neutralized, both boys glared across the field, furious, as though they could kill each other through sheer willpower.
Damn Potter—trying to sneak-attack me! How dishonorable!
Damn Malfoy—trying to pull a fast one! Shameless!
In a strange, almost comical way, their mutual animosity had achieved perfect synchronicity. Watching from the sidelines, Charles could only sigh.
"If this isn't chemistry," he muttered, "I don't know what is."
"Malfoy's such a baby!" Ron huffed, ever the loyal supporter. He'd always take Harry's side—and besides, he couldn't stand Malfoy to begin with.
"Ekans, wrap Vulpix up and then use Bite!" Draco ordered sharply. His strategy, though simple, was sound—clear, aggressive, and well-structured.
Charles made a mental note of it.
In his previous life, he'd never liked Draco—especially the book version, who was even more insufferable than his film counterpart. But now, as a teacher, he couldn't afford to play favorites like a certain greasy-haired bat or an overly sentimental old bee.
Draco Malfoy was still just a child. Charles believed there was hope for him yet—he just needed the right guidance. Leave him unchecked until third or fourth year, though, and it might already be too late.
Truth be told, Hogwarts could really use some moral education. Too many Slytherins admired dark wizards, thinking curses and hexes were "cool."
It reminded Charles all too much of middle schoolers in his past life idolizing street thugs.
Meanwhile, the battle raged on.
"Vulpix, dodge Ekans's attack! Keep your distance and use Ember to suppress it!" Harry called.
He didn't want Vulpix getting close enough for Ekans's venom to strike.
And honestly—it was a smart move.
(End of Chapter)