9th September 1994
Arcane Club
Pressing her palm to the translucent lab door, Hermione waited as it scanned her biomagical signature. A soft pulse of light passed beneath her skin, and then the door slid open.
"Ben, you're being late for dinner aga—"
She stopped.
The lab—usually immaculate, every surface cleared and organised—was crowded with carved wooden figures. Dozens of them. Some small enough to sit in her palm, others the size of a cat or a small dog.
Hermione stepped inside. The door shut quietly behind her. She moved closer, drawn in despite herself.
One carving was unmistakably a fox—sharp eyes, pointed ears—but its tails split into several, fanning out in smooth, elegant curls.
Another was a turtle standing upright. Its shell was layered in raised segments, each one carefully shaped to suggest natural armour. A curved tail spiralled neatly behind it.
A third reminded her of Mickey Mouse. Rounded cheeks, small paws, and a lightning-bolt-shaped tail. It looked like something you'd keep on a desk… and possibly talk to when no one was watching.
She glanced up.
Ben sat at a worktable, sleeves rolled up, wand angled with precision. A small chisel moved under controlled magic, shaving thin curls of wood from a half-formed figure held in a clamp. Its outline was only just beginning to take shape.
"These are new," she said as he lowered his wand.
"They are." He smiled faintly.
"What are they?" she asked, gesturing at the scattered carvings.
Ben stood, brushing wood dust from his hands. His gaze passed over the figures—not with pride, but with quiet evaluation, like someone still mid-process.
"They're part of something I'm putting together for the school."
Hermione frowned slightly. "For the school?"
He nodded. "With the Triwizard Tournament coming up, most of the focus will shift to the champions and the tasks. And with no Quidditch Cup this year, there's not much else to bring everyone together."
She looked back at the carvings, then at him. "So this is… what? A substitute?"
"In a way," Ben said. "Something more interactive. Something people can actually take part in, instead of just watching."
She studied him, then reached for a nearby figure—a unicorn, its body shaped in mid-stride, flames carved along its mane and tail.
"How?"
He smiled, just slightly. "I'm still working out the details. I'd rather not explain it halfway through and then change things later."
Hermione turned the figure in her hands, considering that.
"That implies it's fairly complex."
"It has a few moving parts," he admitted.
She set the unicorn back down carefully and folded her arms. "Is it safe?"
Ben paused, choosing his answer.
"Yes," he said at last. "It's designed to be. I've been building in safeguards from the start."
Hermione watched him closely, weighing tone more than words. Whatever this was, he wasn't treating it lightly.
"And the professors?"
"I'll speak to them before anything goes ahead," Ben said. "Nothing is happening without prior approval."
That eased some of the tension in her expression, though not all of it. Her gaze drifted back to the carvings.
"They don't look like anything I've seen before."
"They're not meant to," Ben said. "It gives more freedom in how they behave."
Her curiosity sharpened, but she caught the careful way he phrased it—revealing just enough, holding back the rest.
"You're being deliberately vague."
"Just a little."
She sighed, not annoyed so much as resigned. Getting a full explanation out of him before he was ready was rarely worth it.
"I suppose I'll find out eventually."
"You will," he said. "Preferably when everything is ready."
Hermione shook her head, though a small smile tugged at her mouth.
"Well, whatever these are, I'm sure they'll be impressive," she said, gesturing at the figures. "Even without knowing what they do."
He smiled. "Thank you."
There was a brief pause before she remembered why she'd come.
"Also," she added, more pointedly, "dinner. Which you are currently missing."
Ben glanced at his wristwatch, then back at her. "Sorry. Lost track of time."
"You always 'lose track of time' when you're working on something like this."
"I know. But don't worry. It won't happen again, scout's honor." He gave a three-finger salute.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You were never a scout."
He shrugged. "What's that got to do with anything?"
She shook her head. "Come on," she said, taking his arm. "Before there's nothing left to eat."
Together, they both headed for the door. Hermione paused just before stepping out, glancing over her shoulder at the room one last time.
For a fleeting moment, she had the strange impression that the room felt… expectant. As if all of it—the carvings, the tools, the quiet hum of magic—was waiting for something to begin.
---
1st November 1994
Hogwarts
(Ron's POV)
Ron Weasley was deep in the kind of sleep that only came on a Sunday morning after two nights of heavy feasting—dense, dreamless, and unwilling to let go.
Which was why the noise felt like an attack.
A sharp, insistent blare cut through the dormitory, loud enough to rattle the bedframes and bounce off the stone walls. Ron groaned and dragged his pillow over his head.
It didn't help.
The sound kept going—then multiplied, overlapping into a chaotic chorus.
It took him a few seconds to understand.
Every Wiphone in the room was going off.
"Turn it off…" Dean mumbled from somewhere to his left, voice thick with sleep.
"I'm trying," Seamus muttered, followed by the unmistakable thud of something hitting the floor.
Ron forced one eye open and fumbled blindly for his own Wiphone. The screen lit up the moment his fingers brushed it, the brightness stabbing in the dim room. He squinted, blinking until the words came into focus.
Emergency Notification: All students are to assemble in the Great Hall immediately.
That woke him properly.
Around him, the others were stirring—Neville pushing himself upright with a frown, Harry already reaching for his glasses, Dean and Seamus blinking as they tried to make sense of it.
"Emergency notification?" Harry said, checking his own screen. "What's that about?"
"Is everyone getting the same message?" Neville asked, looking around.
They all nodded.
"Then I doubt it's something small," Neville said, already climbing out of bed. "We should get ready."
The dormitory shifted from stillness to movement almost instantly. Ron grabbed the nearest set of clothes and headed for the bathroom with the others. The cramped space filled quickly—running taps, muttered complaints, and the occasional elbow catching someone at the wrong angle.
"Who do you think it's from?" Ron asked, splashing cold water on his face. "Dumbledore?"
"Probably. Or maybe Carter," Dean said, trying and failing to flatten his hair. "Guy made the Wiphones, after all."
"If it's from Ben, and he's calling all of us, it's definitely important," Harry added, already halfway dressed.
They finished as quickly as possible, abandoning any effort to look presentable. Being dressed was good enough.
Within minutes, they were out the door and heading downstairs, joining a growing stream of students moving in the same direction.
The Gryffindor common room buzzed with speculation.
"Did you see the message?"
"Do you think something happened?"
"Why the Great Hall?"
Ron caught bits and pieces as they passed, none of it useful. Once they left the common room, one thing became obvious—this wasn't just Gryffindor.
By the time they reached the entrance hall, it was clear the entire school had been summoned.
Students from every house were filing into the Great Hall, many of them only half-awake. The visiting students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were there as well, looking around with open curiosity. The low murmur of hundreds of voices filled the space, rising and falling like a restless tide.
"Whatever this is," Seamus said as they sat at the Gryffindor table, "it better be good."
Ron nodded, but his attention had already shifted to the front.
The staff table wasn't fully occupied yet, though a few professors were already there, speaking quietly among themselves. None of them looked alarmed, which eased some of the tension Ron hadn't realised he was carrying.
The noise in the hall began to dip as more students settled, confusion giving way to anticipation. Heads turned almost in unison when the large doors at the far end opened again.
Benjamin Carter walked in.
He didn't look rushed or concerned. If anything, he seemed exactly as he always did—calm, focused, as though this early-morning assembly was expected rather than imposed.
Behind him, floating a few feet above the ground, was a large wooden chest. It followed him smoothly, drawing every eye in the hall.
Carter walked to the front of the staff table, gave a brief nod to the professors present, then turned to face the hall. With a subtle motion of his hand, the chest behind him lowered itself to the floor.
He took a moment, looking across the room, then gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Good morning," he began, his amplified voice carrying easily across the Great Hall. "First, allow me to apologise for waking you all at this unreasonable hour. I'm sure most of you had plans to catch a few more hours of sleep on this fine, school-free day."
A few tired grumbles drifted up from the tables.
"But if you give me a few minutes," Carter continued, "I promise this won't be a waste of your time."
The tone of the room shifted—annoyance giving way to cautious attention.
"Now, you may recall that Professor Dumbledore informed us at the start of term that the Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year."
A collective groan rolled through the hall.
"Yeah, remind us why don't you," Fred muttered, George nodding beside him.
Carter's lips twitched faintly, as if he'd expected that.
"And while the Triwizard Tournament will no doubt be a grand and historic event…" he went on, "it will involve exactly one Hogwarts student—" he gestured lightly to himself "—who will perform three tasks… on three days."
He let that settle.
"That leaves the rest of the school with… significantly less to look forward to."
More voices chimed in, agreeing. Ron found himself nodding without thinking.
"So," Carter said smoothly, "to prevent widespread boredom, declining morale, and the possible collapse of student sanity… I thought it might be worth introducing something everyone can take part in."
Ron frowned slightly.
What?
Before anyone could ask, Carter drew his wand and gave a short, precise motion toward the chest.
The lid snapped open.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then—
Shapes burst out. Small. Bright. Alive.
Ron jerked back as something orange shot upward—a small creature with a flame burning at the tip of its tail. Beside it, a blue turtle dropped to the ground with a solid thump, blinking curiously. A yellow creature crackling faintly with sparks darted across the floor before skidding to a halt.
All across the space in front of the staff table, creatures began to appear—each about a foot tall, each moving with startling life.
A fox with multiple curling tails. A floating metallic sphere with a grin that looked suspiciously like trouble. A bird shaking out its wings as if testing the air. A squat, rock-like creature flexing as though it might pick a fight with the nearest table.
A chorus of gasps spread through the hall.
"Blimey—" Ron breathed, pushing to his feet for a better look.
"What are those?" someone whispered nearby.
Carter let the moment stretch, watching the creatures roam, climb, flutter, and occasionally bump into one another.
Then he said, simply—
"These… are Pokémon."
The word settled over the hall.
Ron tried it under his breath. "Poké…mon."
One of them—the yellow one with red cheek marks—turned sharply, ears twitching, and chirped—
"Pika!"
Ron's eyes widened. "It talks!"
"Oh, they do much more than that," Carter said, a faint smirk forming.
He raised his wand again.
The air in front of the staff table shimmered, then resolved into a large, clear screen—like a floating pane of glass.
Ron recognised it immediately. Carter used something like this for movies—but this time there was no projector.
Huh. Guess he got better at it.
On the screen, the creatures appeared again—larger now, clearer, standing in a wide, open arena.
Two faced each other.
The orange one let out a sharp cry. "Char!"
Across from it, the blue turtle lowered itself, ready. "Squirtle!"
The battle began.
The orange one lunged, flame bursting from its mouth. The blue one answered instantly—a jet of water crashing into the fire with a hiss of steam. The impact forced both back.
The hall went silent.
Then—
"Whoa—!"
Reactions broke out all at once.
They moved fast—dodging, striking, circling. The orange one darted in, claws flashing, while the blue one countered with a sharp swing of its tail.
"Did you see that—?"
"That was brilliant—!"
Ron didn't blink.
It felt like watching a duel—but not quite. Faster. Wilder. Less predictable. Like anything could happen at any moment.
The battle ended in a final clash—water against flame—before the screen faded.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the Great Hall exploded.
Cheers. Shouting. Questions flying everywhere.
"That was awesome!"
"Can we try that—?"
"How do they work—?"
Ron stared at the Pokémon below, something sparking in his chest.
"That—was—brilliant!"
Then the thought hit him—sharp, immediate, undeniable.
I want one.
No—scratch that.
I need one.
"Just to be clear," Benjamin said as the murmurs began to settle, "the Pokémon you see in front of you are not living animals. They are constructs. Each one has been built, enchanted, and programmed with a defined set of abilities and behaviours."
The creatures continued to move across the floor as he spoke—turning, pausing, reacting to one another.
"They can move, react, and interact with their surroundings," he went on. "They have a certain degree of autonomy—enough to feel responsive without becoming unpredictable. And each one is designed with its own strengths, weaknesses, and characteristics."
A brief pause.
"They are, in simple terms," he said, a faint hint of amusement in his voice, "toys."
A few incredulous laughs broke out, but most of the hall didn't look convinced.
"Toys," he repeated evenly, "that have been given a bit more thought than usual."
That landed better.
"Anyway," Benjamin continued, "this year, I will be organising a Pokémon Championship here at Hogwarts."
The reaction was immediate.
The hall, which had been hanging on his words, burst into noise. Voices rose all at once as the meaning sank in. Ron blinked, looked at the Pokémon, then back at Carter.
"A tournament," Benjamin clarified, raising his voice just enough to carry, "in which participants will train, strategise, and compete using their Pokémon."
The excitement sharpened instantly.
"The tournament will be open to all Hogwarts students," he continued, "as well as those visiting from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Participation is not only permitted—it is encouraged."
That only made it louder.
Benjamin let it run for a moment, then continued once it dipped slightly.
"There will be a formal progression system, organised matches, and a final championship round. And for those of you who prefer additional motivation…" he added, "the winners of the tournament will receive the following."
That quieted the hall faster than anything else had.
"The final Champion will receive a trophy," he said, "and one thousand galleons prize money."
Ron's jaw dropped.
"A thousand galleons—are you serious?" Seamus blurted.
It was an absurd amount of money.
"The second-place finalist will receive a trophy and five hundred galleons," Benjamin went on calmly, as if he hadn't just set the room on fire.
"And third place will receive a trophy and two hundred galleons."
That did it.
The hall erupted again—louder than before. Students talked over one another, some laughing, others already arguing strategy. Any lingering confusion had vanished, replaced by a sharp, electric excitement that filled the room.
Ron felt it hit him fully.
The sleepiness was gone. So was the irritation. In its place—pure, restless energy.
"This is mental," he said, grinning. "Absolutely mental."
In the best possible way.
A tournament. Battles. Strategy.
And a thousand galleons.
Ron leaned forward, eyes bright.
Yeah. He was definitely signing up.
It took a while for the noise to settle again, but Carter didn't rush it. He stood at the front, waiting it out until the energy dipped just enough. When he spoke again, his voice cut cleanly through the chatter.
"For those interested in participating," he said, "each student will be allowed to choose three of these Pokémon."
Three.
Ron's mind immediately started racing.
"For those who don't wish to compete," Carter added, "but would still like one, you may choose a single Pokémon instead."
That drew a different reaction—relief from some, renewed excitement from others. No one was being left out.
Ron barely registered it. He was already scanning the Pokémon again, instinctively trying to pick out the strongest, fastest—or, if he was honest, the coolest.
"However," Carter continued, "before you make your selections, there is something you should understand."
He gestured toward the Pokémon.
"These Pokémon can be divided into six clear types—fire, water, grass, electric, flying, and rock or ground. Each type has strengths and weaknesses relative to others."
He lifted his wand.
The air above him shimmered, then resolved into a large, glowing chart—clear and sharp even from the back of the hall.
🔥 Fire
Strong against: 🌿 Grass
Weak against: 🌊 Water, 🪨 Rock / 🌍 Ground
🌊 Water
Strong against: 🔥 Fire, 🪨 Rock / 🌍 Ground
Weak against: ⚡ Electric, 🌿 Grass
🌿 Grass
Strong against: 🌊 Water, 🪨 Rock / 🌍 Ground
Weak against: 🔥 Fire, 🕊 Flying
⚡ Electric
Strong against: 🌊 Water, 🕊 Flying
Weak against: 🌍 Ground (completely ineffective)
🕊 Flying
Strong against: 🌿 Grass
Weak against: ⚡ Electric, 🪨 Rock
🪨 Rock / 🌍 Ground
Strong against: 🔥 Fire, ⚡ Electric (Ground only), 🕊 Flying
Weak against: 🌊 Water, 🌿 Grass
A quieter ripple moved through the hall this time—focused, intent. Students leaned forward, reading carefully. Some were already whispering, comparing options.
Ron stared at the chart, brow furrowing.
"So… it's like—what, some things beat other things?" he muttered.
Around him, dozens of students pulled out their Wiphones. Screens flickered on as they snapped pictures before the chart vanished. Ron scrambled for his own a second later, quickly taking a picture.
No chance he was remembering all that.
"You'll want to think carefully before making your selections," Carter said. "Strength alone won't be enough. How your choices interact will matter just as much."
That didn't sound easy.
But it did sound… fun.
"To help with that," he continued, "I've added a new application to your Wiphones."
Ron glanced down, swiping until he spotted it—a small icon he was sure hadn't been there before.
"'Pokédex'?" he read.
"A database," Carter said. "If you open the app and scan any Pokémon, it will provide relevant information—type, abilities, and other useful details."
That earned another wave of approval.
Ron had to admit—that was clever.
"For the next hour," Carter said, gesturing lightly toward the creatures still moving across the hall, "these thirty Pokémon will remain here. You may examine them, observe them, and decide which ones you would like to choose."
"At the end of that time," he continued, "I will return, and you may register your selections."
The energy in the room began to rise again—but Carter lifted a hand slightly.
"One more thing. Pokémon are capable of evolving."
That was enough to pause people again.
"As they participate in battles," he explained, "they will gain experience. As they grow stronger and reach certain thresholds, they will transform into more advanced, more powerful forms."
Ron blinked.
He glanced at a nearby Pokémon—a small fox-like creature perched near the edge of a table—and tried to picture it becoming something bigger. Stronger.
That… was brilliant.
Now it wasn't just about picking something good. It was about picking something that could become something better.
"I will not be participating in the tournament myself," Carter added. "As the creator of these Pokémon, it would be inappropriate."
That made sense, though Ron wouldn't have minded seeing him try.
"To my fellow Triwizard champions," Carter said, glancing briefly toward Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, "I would also advise against participating. You will have more than enough to occupy your time as it is, and I would prefer not to divide your attention."
That drew a few knowing looks.
"Similarly," he went on, "to those in their NEWT years—your focus should remain on your studies."
A brief pause.
"Though I see no reason you shouldn't enjoy this as well, within reason of course."
A few older students chuckled.
Benjamin inclined his head. "That is all."
Then he turned and walked calmly toward the doors.
The moment he stepped out of the Great Hall, whatever fragile order had held the students in place collapsed.
Benches scraped as people stood all at once. Conversations broke into overlapping threads. Within seconds, the open space in front of the staff table was packed—students pushing forward, craning, pointing, arguing, and most importantly, scanning.
Ron was right in the middle of it.
"Oi—watch it!" he snapped as someone clipped his shoulder, but he didn't slow. If anything, he pushed harder, slipping between two older students to reach the nearest cluster.
Up close, they were even better.
A small orange canine with black stripes padded in a tight circle, tail flicking with contained energy, eyes bright and alert. Nearby, a round blue creature bounced lightly, its spiral belly oddly hypnotic. And a rough, stone-like Pokémon hovered stubbornly in place, flexing its arms like it was waiting for a fight.
"Right," Ron muttered, already pulling out his Wiphone. "Let's see what you are."
He pointed it at the canine.
Growlithe — Fire Type.
Extremely loyal, it will fearlessly bark at any opponent to protect its trainer.
Common moves — Fire Fang, Flamethrower, Bite, Roar.
Ron's expression shifted instantly.
"Yeah… yeah, I like you," he said under his breath.
Growlithe's ears twitched toward him. Its tail gave a short, eager wag.
"Ron, move—let me scan that one," Seamus said from behind him.
"In a second," Ron replied, stepping just enough to the side to keep going.
He moved quickly now, scanning, reading, comparing.
🔥 Fire Type
Charmander
Vulpix
Growlithe
Ponyta
Chimchar
"Alright," Ron murmured, trying to lock it in. "Fire's strong against grass… weak to water and rock…"
He turned to the blue one.
Poliwag — Water Type.
Poliwag has very thin skin, making its spiral innards visible. Despite this, the skin is flexible—sharp fangs bounce off it.
Common moves — Bubble, Hypnosis, Water Gun.
Ron frowned as it bounced lightly.
"Doesn't look like much, does it?" he muttered. Then, after a beat, "Which probably means it's not as useless as it looks."
Poliwag spun once, almost as if pleased.
"…Yeah, alright," Ron said, nodding.
🌊 Water Type
Squirtle
Poliwag
Psyduck
Magikarp
Piplup
🌿 Grass Type
Bulbasaur
Oddish
Bellsprout
Chikorita
Treecko
⚡ Electric Type
Pikachu
Magnemite
Voltorb
Elekid
Shinx
🕊 Flying Type
Pidgey
Spearow
Pidove
Archen
Rufflet
🪨 Rock / 🌍 Ground Type
Geodude
Onix
Rhyhorn
Larvitar
Aron
He aimed the Wiphone at the rock one.
Geodude — Rock / Ground Type.
Proud of their sturdy bodies, they bash against each other to prove whose is harder.
Common moves — Tackle, Defense Curl, Rock Throw, Self-Destruct.
Ron raised his eyebrows.
"Blimey."
Geodude flexed both arms, completely unfazed by the noise around it.
Ron glanced back at Growlithe—alert, ready, like it was waiting for a command. Then at Poliwag—simple, but there was something… tricky there. Then at Geodude—solid, unshakable.
Fire. Water. Rock.
He ran through it again, slower this time.
"Fire handles grass… water handles fire… rock handles electric…" he muttered. "And if something hits hard—" he nodded at Geodude "—you just hit it back harder."
It wasn't perfect.
But it didn't need to be.
It worked.
And more importantly—it felt right.
"Alright," Ron said, straightening. "I've got mine."
"Already?" Seamus asked, sounding both impressed and slightly stressed.
"Yeah."
"Which ones are you picking?"
"Growlithe," Ron said, counting on his fingers. "Poliwag. And Geodude."
Seamus blinked.
"…That's—hold on—that's actually not bad."
Ron grinned, a little smug.
"Course it isn't."
Right at the one-hour mark, Carter walked back into the Great Hall.
The reaction was immediate. Conversations cut off mid-sentence as students turned in unison—some still holding their Wiphones, others lingering beside the Pokémon they had been studying.
Carter raised his wand.
Every Pokémon reacted at once.
From across the hall, the creatures broke away from whatever they were doing—gliding, hopping, circling—and shot back toward the chest in a smooth, controlled stream. Within seconds, all thirty had returned, slipping neatly inside.
The lid snapped shut with a firm, final click.
The chest lifted into the air again.
"For those of you interested," Carter said, his voice carrying easily, "follow me."
He turned and walked out.
That was all the invitation anyone needed.
The Great Hall surged into motion again, only now it had direction. Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang poured toward the doors in a thick wave, voices rising with excitement as they followed.
Ron was swept along with them, barely needing to move as the crowd carried him into the corridor.
"This better be where we actually get them," he said, trying to keep Harry and Neville in sight.
"It probably is," Harry said, glancing back. "No point dragging everyone along otherwise."
The group wound its way through the castle—up staircases, around corners—moving as a steady stream. The chest floated just behind Carter, and more than a few people kept glancing at it, as if expecting it to open again at any moment.
They reached the second floor.
Carter stopped in front of a door Ron was fairly sure led to an unused classroom—one of those forgotten spaces no one bothered with.
He opened it and stepped inside.
The first few students followed.
Then stopped.
Ron, stuck behind a pair of taller sixth years, leaned sideways to see past them. "What's the holdup?"
No one answered.
Which, more than anything else, told him something was off.
He pushed forward, slipping through the gap—and then he saw.
"…Blimey."
The room was gone.
Or rather, it had been replaced.
What should have been a plain classroom—desks, a board, a bit of empty space—had expanded into something vast. The ceiling rose high overhead, supported by arches that hadn't existed before. Tiered seating spread outward in wide rings, easily enough for hundreds of people. At the center lay a large, open arena—flat, marked, and clearly meant for something far more interesting than lessons.
An indoor stadium.
Ron stepped inside fully, turning slowly as more students poured in behind him, the space filling with a rising buzz of disbelief.
"How—" someone began.
"Extension charms," Granger said somewhere nearby, though even she sounded faintly impressed. "Layered ones."
Carter walked calmly to the center of the arena, as if this were entirely ordinary. He stopped and faced the crowd.
"If you are interested in participating in the Pokémon Championship," he said, "raise your hand."
There was barely any hesitation.
Hands shot up across the space—rows upon rows of them. Even some of the older students who had seemed doubtful earlier were now reconsidering.
Carter looked over the raised hands, as if confirming what he already knew.
"Very well," he said. "You will all be provided with Pokémon now."
A cheer broke out instantly.
He let it settle before continuing.
"However, before that happens, there is something you must understand."
The shift in tone was subtle, but enough to quiet the crowd.
"These Pokémon may not be alive in the traditional sense," he said, "but they are still responsive, adaptive systems. They are designed to interact, to grow, and to improve through use and companionship."
His gaze moved across the crowd.
"As such, there will be rules."
"You will be required to sign a magical contract," he continued, "confirming that you will not intentionally harm your own Pokémon, nor attempt to harm the Pokémon of others outside of authorised battles."
A few murmurs followed, but no real objections.
Honestly, Ron thought, that just sounded like common sense.
Carter flicked his wand again.
A desk and chair appeared at the edge of the arena with a soft shimmer. He walked over and sat, the chest lowering neatly beside him. From his pocket, he pulled out a thick stack of parchment—far larger than should reasonably have fit there—and placed it on the desk.
"Form a queue," he said. "One at a time. Read the contract carefully, then sign."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
Hermione Granger stepped forward.
She reached the desk, took the top sheet, and began reading with complete focus, as though she intended to examine every word.
Behind her stood Carter's sister, Rachel. Ginny slipped in just after, eyes bright with excitement.
The line began to form properly after that, and Ron hurried to secure a decent spot.
The line moved faster than Ron expected—mostly because no one cared much about the parchment compared to what came after it.
He watched as Granger finished first, handing back her signed contract after what was clearly a thorough read. Rachel Carter followed with far less delay, then Ginny, then Harry, Neville, and Luna Lovegood. Each spoke briefly with Carter, received their Pokémon, and stepped aside, quickly surrounded by their choices.
Ron shifted from foot to foot as the queue shortened, his attention drifting constantly toward the growing cluster of students now paired with Pokémon. Every so often he caught a glimpse—a Squirtle weaving between legs, a Pikachu perched on someone's shoulder, a Growlithe pacing beside its new trainer.
It made the wait feel longer than it was.
Finally, he reached the front.
Carter looked up as Ron approached and slid a fresh sheet of parchment toward him.
"Read it carefully," he said.
Ron nodded, picked it up—and skimmed.
It matched what had already been explained, just written more formally. No intentional harm, no sabotage outside of battles, general responsibility clauses.
"Yeah, alright," Ron muttered, already reaching for the pen.
He signed quickly and pushed it back.
Carter's eyes flicked to the signature, then back to him. "Your selections?"
"Growlithe. Poliwag. And Geodude."
Carter gave a small nod and raised his wand toward the chest.
There was a soft click as the lid opened.
A moment later—
They emerged.
Growlithe came first, landing lightly, its carved fur flowing in smooth, flame-like patterns as it lifted its head and gave a short, alert bark. Poliwag followed, its round body bobbing slightly as it hovered for a moment before settling, the spiral on its belly faintly shimmering as it turned toward Ron. Geodude appeared last, dropping with a solid weight, its rocky form steady as both arms flexed outward.
Ron just stared.
"They're… mine?" he asked.
"They are," Carter said.
Growlithe stepped forward, tail swishing with contained energy. Poliwag let out a soft "wag," tilting slightly. Geodude gave a firm nod, one arm curling inward in what looked very much like approval.
Ron broke into a grin.
"Brilliant," he said under his breath.
Carter reached into his pocket again and pulled out three small red-and-white spheres, each no larger than a ping-pong ball. He placed them in Ron's hand.
"These are Pokéballs," he said. "Press the central button."
Ron did.
With a soft click and a faint expansion charm activating, the sphere grew smoothly in his hand until it was about the size of a softball. It remained light and easy to grip.
"They contain internally expanded space to store your Pokémon safely when not in use," Benjamin explained. "Inside, they can rest and recharge. It's more practical than having them follow you everywhere."
Ron nodded quickly.
"Right. Yeah. That makes sense."
He tucked the Pokéballs into his pocket, giving his three Pokémon one more look before stepping aside for the next student.
For the next several minutes, the process repeated. One by one, students signed, chose, and received their Pokémon. The arena gradually filled with movement—dozens, then hundreds, of Pokémon scattered across the space, each paired with an excited, curious, or slightly overwhelmed student.
Eventually, when the last of them had finished, Carter stood.
The low murmur of conversation faded as attention returned to him.
"Now that everyone has received their Pokémon," he said, "we can address the structure of the tournament."
Ron straightened slightly.
"Given the large number of participants, a single-elimination format would be inefficient. Instead, we will use a tiered league system."
That sounded complicated.
But promising.
"Phase One will consist of House qualifiers," he said. "Each house—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin—will operate its own internal ladder."
Ron glanced at Seamus. "So we start by battling our own house?"
"Looks like it," Seamus said.
"Students will be divided into smaller pods of eight to ten," Carter continued. "Within each pod, you will participate in at least three battles. These will be one Pokémon versus one Pokémon matches."
Ron nodded slowly.
That sounded manageable.
"Phase One will run from November through December," Benjamin said. "At the end of this phase, the top eight to ten students from each group will advance."
Murmurs broke out—people already doing the math.
"As for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Carter added, "given their smaller numbers—approximately a dozen students each—they will not require a qualifying round. All of them will proceed directly to Phase Two."
That drew a few mixed reactions, but nothing serious.
"Phase Two will be the Inter-House League," Benjamin went on. "At that stage, approximately sixty students will compete against one another."
Ron let out a low whistle. "Sixty. That's still loads."
"But a lot fewer than three hundred," Dean said.
Carter looked over the crowd, taking in the restless energy.
"You have one week," he said, "to familiarise yourselves with your Pokémon. Learn how they respond, how they move, how they behave. Understand their strengths and limitations."
He paused.
"At the end of this week, the first ever Pokémon Championship… will begin."
For a second, there was silence.
Then the arena erupted.
Not confusion. Not curiosity.
Just excitement.
Ron felt it surge through him again, sharper this time. He looked at his Pokémon—his team—and grinned.
One week.
"Right, then," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Let's see what you lot can do."