This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations. This work also includes Pokemon, which belong to the Pokemon Company, and I again claim no ownership of these characters.

I thank both Rowling and the Pokemon Company for the universes they have created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive was a highly unusual boy. Yet why he seemed so unusual was something of a mystery to the residents of the small suburb of Little Whinging where young Harry lived with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and his cousin Dudley.

Maybe it was the way he dressed, in clothes that were always several sizes too big for him, or perhaps it was how quiet he was, with his big startling green eyes watching, but it was widely agreed that there was something not quite right about the youngest resident of the Dursley household.

Harry himself couldn't tell you why he was different, though he knew he was. His parents, who were never mentioned within the Dursley household, had died when he was very young, in a car crash, or so Aunt Petunia had told him the one time he dared ask. He was taught at a very young age not to ask questions and therefore his life before the Dursley's remained much of a mystery.

On this particular Saturday morning our story starts we find Harry where he spends most of his free time; his bedroom, which, as it happened, turned out to be the cupboard under the stairs. He'd been awake for a couple of hours now but hadn't yet moved from his small cot, finding solace in the peace of the early hours of the morning, for this day just so happened to be Harry's eleventh birthday.

Not that it meant much. While Dudley was showered with love and affection, not to mention numerous presents, Harry's birthdays had always been accompanied by grunts and annoyed looks, as though the day itself were an inconvenience to his relatives. Harry very much doubted they'd remember his birthday this year at all.

The loud thumping of heavy footsteps down the stairs signalled the end of Harry's moment of peace.

"Wake up cousin!" Dudley yelled, banging solidly against the cupboard door with a meaty, ham like hand. "I want breakfast!"

Harry sighed but he knew through long experience that the longer he waited the worse it was for him. And so he pulled himself upright and slipped out through the cupboard door and into the hallway.

It was unusual for Dudley to be so lively at this time in the morning; normally it was a chore to get him out of bed, which was the cause of many late arrivals at school. But today was a special day for Dudley; he had a football match to play.

When the school had first announced they would be hosting a summer football camp Harry had initially been very interested, but as soon as Dudley got wind of it Harry's enthusiasm died down. Nothing with Dudley was ever fun. Especially football.

"Morning Dudders," Uncle Vernon said cheerfully as he strolled into the kitchen. "All ready for the big match?" He threw an impatient look over to the stove, where Harry was hurriedly frying some bacon. Dudley, however, didn't answer. He was too busy stuffing two sausages into his mouth at once.

"That's the spirit," Vernon chuckled before opening up his newspaper and promptly disappearing behind it. All in all this was turning out to be a pretty normal run-of-the-mill Saturday and Harry fervently hoped it would remain just so.

And for the first few minutes it appeared as though it would as the three Dursley's ate Harry's specially prepared breakfast, and didn't even criticise him for it. Dudley boasted about the number of goals he was going to score while Vernon agreed heartily and Petunia looked on with pride, all the while Harry was cleaning the dishes. Nothing at all unusual seemed likely to happen.

A loud knock was heard at the door.

"What the hell!" Vernon shouted, remnants of his morning coffee staining his shirt as he started from the noise. "Who the blazes is banging on the door like that. Haven't they heard of using the doorbell!"

Uncle Vernon's grumbling continued all the way down the hallway and up until the instant he opened the door, when he stopped suddenly. As one the other three occupants of the kitchen turned their heads in the direction of the door, wondering what on earth could have silenced Vernon so suddenly.

Harry's mind reeled with possibilities. Was it the police, that would explain it. Or maybe it was Uncle Vernon's boss, though goodness knows why he'd come here.

Their suspicions were soon answered as the sound of something very large moved down the hallway, knocking into the small side table that held the keys with a rattle of clinking metal, and a huge, giant of a man popped his head through the kitchen doorway.

"There yeh all are," he said cheerfully, stooping down so that he could squeeze into the room, suddenly making it look much much smaller. "Sorry ter just drop in on yeh all like this jus' the guy at the door seems a bit shy." Behind the giant followed Uncle Vernon, looking distinctly small in comparison, with a face that reflected sheer bewilderment.

"Ah, breakfast," the unknown man said cheerfully, dropping down onto one of Aunt Petunia's antique chairs, which creaked dangerously. "Hmm, delicious," the man continued after a mouthful of bacon. "Hats off to the chef." Though he didn't know this man Harry still felt a small warmth growing in his cheeks at the compliment.

"Ah, and you must be Petunia, ain't yeh," the man said cheerfully, wiping his face roughly with a napkin. "Pleasure to meet yeh. An' this must be Dudley. I must say, you're a lot bigger than I was expecting." Dudley seemed too shell shocked to respond in any way. "An' here's Harry."

Harry looked away from Dudley in surprise and found himself staring into a pair of crinkling black eyes. "It's been a long time since I last saw yeh, you were only a baby." The man dabbed the corner of his eye with a napkin. "But now look at yeh, yeh're all grown up. Yeh look just like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mums eyes."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked suddenly, aware that no one else had spoken a word since the man had walked in.

"That I did," the man nodded. "Great people they were Harry, great people. But of course," he smiled bashfully. "I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I was there when yer parents were at school, too."

Harry gaped. "Hogwarts?" he questioned. "What's Hogwarts?"

Hagrid looked taken-aback. "Sorry Harry, didn't realise yeh might not know," he said ruefully. "Hogwarts School of Pokémon Training, that's it's full name. It teaches all the young kids everything they need to know in order to learn how to raise and care for Pokémon."

"I'm sorry, Pokémon?" Harry questioned. He had never heard of anything like that in his life.

Hagrid frowned before turning to Petunia. "You didn't tell 'im about Pokémon?" he asked, confused. It was then that Vernon finally found his voice.

"Out!" he ordered, though his voice wavered. "Out of my house now!"

"Now wait a minute," Hagrid said, getting to his feet and automatically causing Vernon to shrink back from him. "Are you telling me yeh haven't told Harry anythin' about Pokémon. What about all those letters McGonagall sent?"

"We burned them," Petunia answered, her face pale. She looked almost sick. "We do not want any of this. Just leave and take your unnatural creatures with you."

Hagrid looked positively stunned. "Well now, there's no need to be saying things like that," he waved his hands in what was sure to be an attempt at a peaceful gesture but which nearly sent Vernon flying into the wall. "Why don't we all talk about this properly, like mature adults, yeah."

"We made our decision," Vernon blustered. "We want nothing to do with you or your kind."

Harry was now seriously confused. "What are Pokémon?" he found himself asking and as one every head in the room turned to him. Hagrid let out a relieved sigh, clearly he thought he'd won.

"Yeh see here, Harry," he began, moving forward and retaking his seat so his head was closer to Harry's level. "Pokémon are creatures, yeah, but their very rare."

"Like tigers and lions?" Dudley said eagerly before being quickly hushed by his parents.

Hagrid chuckled. "Kinda like tigers and lions except different too." He ran a hand through his wild hair and sighed. "I'm really not the best person to be explaining things but 'ere goes. Pokémon are creatures that come in all shapes and sizes that can be caught by Pokémon trainers. Then they can be raised to be companions but also they can be used in Pokémon battles and contests. Here," Hagrid dug a hand into one of the pockets of his massive overcoat and pulled out a small sphere, half red, half white. Just as Harry went to get a closer look it appeared to open and suddenly his vision was completely obscured.

"Back Fang, back," Hagrid's voice permeated the sudden sensory deprivation and Harry was finally able to get a good look at the creature that had up until a moment ago been licking his face. It was a part black, part grey four legged creature and if Harry had to guess what it was he'd say it was a dog, although he'd never seen a dog like that.

"This here is Fang, my Mightyena," Hagrid said proudly, scratching the creature behind the ear, which it seemed to really enjoy. "Don't be scared, come pat 'im. He's a right old softy." Cautiously Harry did as instructed and quickly found out Hagrid had been right, Fang didn't seem to have a vicious bone in his body. In fact, the longer he patted the Mightyena the more it seemed like just a rather large dog.

"Pokémon come in all different shapes and sizes," Hagrid said, smiling down at Harry. "There are all sorts o' different types. Water types like to live in an' around lakes, grass types like the forest, and flying types are like the birds you get 'round here. Fang 'ere is a dark type. That means he's weak to Fighting, Bug and Fairy types but strong against Ghost and Psychic types."

"Fighting, Fairy, Psychic?" Harry repeated, unable to believe the words coming out of Hagrid's mouth. Hagrid nodded.

"There are eighteen types in all," Hagrid told him. "My favourite are Dragon types."

"Dragon types?" Harry stated in disbelief.

"Always wanted a Dragon type Pokémon," Hagrid said with a wistful expression on his face. "Ever since I was a kid. But Fang is great, and I 'ave my Ariados, Aragog, too."

"Ariados," Harry muttered under his breath in amazement.

"Stop it, stop it!" Uncle Vernon had found his voice again. "Stop with this crazy talk. We are not going to have a Pokémon trainer inside this house, I will not allow it. The boy will go to a nice, normal school and he will be grateful for it. There's no need for him to get all caught up in the stupid things that offed his parents."

Hagrid saw red. "What did you say!?" he bellowed, rising up and towering over Vernon. "Don't you dare insult Lily and James Potter in front of me. They were brave, good people, and they wanted this fer Harry. Harry's name's been down on the 'ogwarts register ever since he was born."

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said softly. "If he is down on their register we may not have a choice," she told her husband.

"The only thing tha' matters," Hagrid continued, as though Petunia had never spoken. "Is what Harry wants. An' I think it's time he read his letter." From a pocket of his coat Hagrid pulled out a plain white envelope, the Dursley's address clearly displayed on the front with 'Mr H Potter' written clearly above.

Harry took it carefully, still not sure what to believe, and slipped the envelope open. Two pieces of paper came out, stapled neatly together, and Harry looked at the first page, his name and address clearly printed on the top corner next to a small crest, split into four quadrants and showing creatures Harry had never before seen. In the top left corner stood a regal dog-like Pokémon with reddish-brown fur, in the top right an intimidating serpentine creature. Below this was a blue four legged creature with horns and in the final quadrant a headless humanoid with patches of grass on its feet and shoulders. Below all this was a letter addressed to him.

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Pokémon Training. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hagrid was watching Harry expectantly.

"What - yes, of course I want to learn about Pokémon," Harry said, amazed to think that anyone would ever turn down such an incredible offer. He felt excitement course through him at just the thought of learning about these mystical creatures he had never heard of before. "When do we start?"

Hagrid smiled.