Chapter 7

"That's it, Growlithe!" I cried out. "Another ember!"

Growlithe's furry image flashed from side to side as he rushed again at the makeshift target, disappearing and reappearing before my eyes the way he'd done when he was protecting me against the Death Eaters. He was only a few feet away from a charmed tree stump Remus had gifted when he let out a quick barrage of fierce flames, each one striking precisely as intended. Almost as soon as his attack hit, he jumped back, snorting wisps of fire out each nostril. He glared at the target like it could turn into the attacking Death Eaters at any moment. If I was giving him orders, even if just for practice, Growlithe was going to be taking it seriously.

"Nice one!" I called out again from where I was sitting underneath the shade at the edge of the Forbidden Forest by Hagrid's hut. I had my knees up—something that would have been impossible without the help of my new leg brace—propping up an open guide book against my thighs. It was another of the ones Hagrid had given me, this one specifically a manual of sorts for beginner trainers. I'd have had very little idea at all how to even go about training Growlithe without it.

As he turned to face me, Growlithe's gaze lost its ferocity and his ears pricked up at the praise I'd given. His mouth dropped open to pant happily, his tongue suddenly lolling out his mouth as it so often did in his more relaxed state, and his eyes lit up. The target he'd hit burned slowly with yellow and orange flames, now slowly starting to fizzle away against the power of Remus' fireproof charm.

He's so strong.

Not that I had much of a metric to compare his power against, but to my eyes, Growlithe was beyond formidable. Every one of his flames seemed hot and powerful enough to melt through solid steel, and the sheer power behind his physical attacks was entirely at odds with his relatively small stature. If his attacking strength wasn't enough, the sheer magnificence of his speed and sure-footed stance was awe-inspiring. Whether he was using them to dodge potential attacks or increase the power of his attacks, Growlithe was simply born to battle.

It almost made me feel guilty that I hadn't been training him to battle in the month or so I'd been at Hagrid's. I'd seen firsthand how he'd fought against the Death Eaters, and then against Marge's two Snubbull. I just had to get over my reservations about making Pokemon fight each other. Hagrid's books suggested battling was almost biologically necessary for Pokemon. They didn't often get properly hurt from fighting each other unless they were in more dire circumstances than what a casual or professional battle between trainers could cause. In reality, battling Pokemon was encouraged—and it was stated in more than the books centred around Pokemon combat.

Begrudgingly, because I still wasn't overly thrilled about making Growlithe battle just because he was good at it, I had to admit how connected it made me feel to him. Even when we trained without a real opponent, it still felt like it was the both of us taking action. Every move we made, we made together, a display of continuous and complete understanding that flowed between trainer and Pokemon. Despite not liking the reality of the fighting, nothing about that could be wrong. If he wasn't going to get hurt from battling, or at the very least practising for it, then I had no real reason not to besides my own illogical fears.

Growlithe dog-trotted towards me, stopping close enough that he was pressed against my legs so I could scratch at the spot behind his ear. His head tilted further to the side with every scratch, and his back foot tapped rapidly on the ground.

"You know, you're great at this battling thing," I said idly. "You're sure you enjoy it? I don't wanna make you do anything—"

Growlithe barked once before I could even finish my sentence, all but telling me to 'shut up and stop worrying.' I couldn't blame him. I could have made a full-time career of pushing my anxieties onto him. Still, progress meant that I was outside and training him now. Training made him happier, and it made me feel much more like I was a real Pokemon trainer. A win win.

Technically, I'd been a real trainer since the moment Growlithe had come with me from the Dursley's, but I'd never trulyfelt like it until I'd started testing his limits in battle—without Dumbledore's help. Pokemon training is an act of give and take, and so far, Growlithe had done all the give, and I'd done all the take. That had to change. This was my effort in making things right.

"I know, I know," I said. "It's just that you never really wanted to battle for Dudley, and I—"

This time Growlithe cut me off by placing one of his paws on my arm and giving me an irritated sort of groan. For the first couple of weeks with Growlithe, I'd occasionally found it difficult to read him, mostly since I couldn't rely on any human expressions like I would with anyone else. Now, despite only a little over a month together, it was like I'd developed an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking. It was almost like it upset him that I'd even mentioned his time with Dudley and compared it to his time with me.

I gave him an apologetic smile and another pat on the top of his head and down his neck, scrunching up my fingers to twist through the soft fur on his back. "Right, sorry. I'll stop."

I had to stop. It was clear even without me asking that Growlithe truly enjoyed battling, or at the very least training for battle, but I was still finding it so difficult to get over my many reservations. After so many years being the punching bag for Dudley, it was difficult to accept that Pokemon would fight each other under any circumstances, let alone for fun. Even with all Hagrid's books telling me that it was only under rare and extreme circumstances that Pokemon would take actual damage—other than a temporary loss of their energy—I still couldn't manage to move past it. Every time I tried to force myself into the belief that battling could be good, I thought of Fang and how he'd been affected by it. The last thing I wanted was to see Growlithe live in absolutely paralysing fear like I saw in Fang every day.

But then, Fang and Growlithe were very different Pokemon. Hagrid had told me himself that Fang never liked to battle, even before his injuries. Growlithe on the other hand seemed to love it. He relished in his speed and strength and seemed determined to get stronger—probably in an effort to better protect me. Since he enjoyed it so much, how could I keep it from him? It was important to Growlithe, therefore, it had to be important to me. I could live with that.

"All right then, ready for some more? Show me a Fire Spin!"

Growlithe barked obediently and eagerly, and with another impressive display of his speed and acrobatics, he was back out in front of the target. Instead of attacking the target once more though, he turned back towards me and lifted his head up to look into the branches above my head.

I glanced up just as I heard the rustling of the canopy above. Morpeko dropped from the branches to land at my side, smiling wide to reveal his one big, buck tooth. I almost scampered away on hands and knees at the unexpected movement, sending the book on my legs hurtling away. My heart thumped in my chest like a bomb about to explode. Twigs and leaves fell from above to land in my hair, and it was only mid-panic that I finally saw the creature in front of me. I frowned at him as my heart calmed and let out a frustrated huff.

Morpeko didn't seem at all bothered to have frightened me so much. He pulled his hands from his furry pockets and held them out in front of me, same as he did every other day. To seem even more cute and innocent, Morpeko widened his eyes and began quivering his bottom lip. After several weeks of him coming to me for food, I knew the performance was all a mere act. He was a mischievous, little devil, willing to do anything for his next meal. More than once I'd had to stop him from impatiently reaching into my pockets for the seeds himself while I wasn't looking. Still, I was always willing to give him what he wanted, despite that I knew it was probably reinforcing his bad behavior.

I pushed myself backwards with my hands until my back was once more against the tree and reached for the book I'd sent flying. "Back again already? Where do you even put it all?" I asked, breath still slightly unsteady from my near panic. Not that Morpeko was thin—in fact, a better description would be that he was a rather pudgy little thing—but he didn't seem to get any bigger, despite his constant eating, either. I could scarcely believe that such a small creature could eat so much without it ever affecting him. With the amount of seeds I was handing over on a daily basis, he had to be eating something like half his body weight, not to mention the seeds he would stuff into his pockets for later.

"Peko," was all the little mouse Pokemon said in response in his squeaky voice. He stretched forward on the tips of his feet to hold his hands even closer to my face, as impatient as ever to receive his seeds.

I looked over towards Growlithe, but he no longer seemed to feel the need to be right by my side in case he needed to protect me from Morpeko anymore. I hadn't seen the mouse Pokemon's hangry side since the first night I'd met him, and Morpeko had never given me any reason to worry he might attack me. He seemed to live by the philosophy of 'don't bite the hand that feeds you.'

But then, it made sense that I hadn't seen his hangry side a second time. All it took to avoid it was a little food, after all, and I was always happy and willing to provide. More than any other creature I'd seen, Morpeko was a slave to his biology. To my eyes, it wasn't that he wanted to be angry and hostile, only that a lack of food literally changed his brain chemistry in a very significant and noticeable way. Once fed, he was actually very sweet. It was only that he used to struggle for food and be forced into his hangry mode that the population of Hogwarts had misunderstood him so much. I had to swallow my anger at the thought of it. A whole school thinking him a hostile pest, just because they'd let him go hungry?

I reached out to pat his head first, but he ducked under my hand and out of the way, frowning and puffing out his cheeks as he occasionally did when I tried to postpone him getting his food. I couldn't help but laugh. He scrunched his face up even more at my reaction and held out his tiny hands once more.

"Peko," he said again, far more impatient this time. I ignored his demanding attitude and instead gestured over towards the small stump that Growlithe had been using for target practice.

"What do you think, Morpeko? Think you could show me some of your moves on Growlithe's practice target over there?"

Morpeko glanced over towards it. For a moment his cheeks sparked with electricity, and I thought he might actually give it a shot. But as quickly as the lightning appeared, it vanished, and he turned back to me with an even more irritated scowl. His hands were still outstretched in front of him, but now he let out an impatient squeak and wiggled his tiny fingers.

I rolled my eyes and let out a short laugh. "Yeah, didn't think so." Morpeko's eyes widened, and I could literally see his excitement as I reached into my pockets for his seeds. His cheeks sparked again, and his little body bounced from side to side and shook with the excitement of a coming meal. As soon as they were in his hands, he began filling his pockets where, according to the books I'd read, the seeds would be roasted by the electricity coursing through his body. When his pockets were full, he stuffed some uncooked seeds from my hand straight into his mouth, unwilling to wait so much as another second before filling the void of his hunger.

Mildly satisfied and now seemingly happy to wait until the rest of his seeds were well-roasted, he curled into my side against the tree, mouth opening for a wide yawn. I patted the top of his head slowly, happy now that he wasn't ducking his way out of my reach. It wasn't long before he was asleep, even as Growlithe attacked the target once more outside the shade of our tree. We stayed that way for hours. Growlithe was content to train his skills as I read more of Hagrid's books and Morpeko slept, barely waking briefly only to stuff more food in his mouth, almost like it was more muscle memory than because he was actually hungry.

When Hagrid found us late in the afternoon, it was with all three of us asleep, Morpeko still leaned into my side and Growlithe sprawled upside down across my legs. Fortunately, he had a wizarding camera on hand to immortalize the occasion, and I ended up with my first framed picture for my bedside table.

"Are you sure it's okay I go to a class?" I asked Neville as we made our way up the grand staircase of Hogwarts. "I mean, I'm not technically a student… or a wizard." My voice was small and nearly inaudible at the latter descriptor. Not that I was ashamed of being a squib, especially now that I had Growlithe, but Hogwarts was a school for wizards, and my lack of magic couldn't have been clearer anywhere else.

Neville shrugged, slowing down for me as I slowly made my way up the stairs step-by-step. I would never have been able to make it so high up the staircase with just my crutches, and it wasn't exactly easy with Remus' brace, but it was certainly manageable. That alone was still a minor miracle to me.

"I don't see why not," Neville said matter-of-factly. "Hagrid said it would be okay, didn't he? It's a class about Pokemon, after all, and you are a Pokemon Trainer."

More than a month after being at Hogwarts with Growlithe, and someone else's declaration of me being a Pokemon Trainer was still enough to make me giddy. Still, I was a little nervous about attending a class at Hogwarts, even one about Pokemon. Honestly, perhaps even especially a class about Pokemon. True, I wanted to know everything I could about them, but all I'd seen from Professor Grubbly-Plank was her magically removing the hangry Morpeko from the Great Hall. If that was how she treated a Pokemon in need, I wasn't so convinced that learning from her would be the best thing. Being a trainer myself, I couldn't help but worry that I might quickly become the centre of attention in a class about the creatures, and that was just about the last thing I wanted.

Growlithe hopped up the stairs ahead of me, stopping at the top of each flight and watching patiently as I trudged up behind him. He'd never go any further than that, not unless I ordered it. Everything I'd read about Growlithe was ringing absolutely true. The sheer level of loyalty in the fire dog was absolutely unparalleled. The only probable reason he was running ahead at all and not staying directly by my side was that he might accidentally trip me up on the stairs by getting under my feet—or even another student.

"Do you ever study any Pokemon up close? I'm starting to get to know the names of some of them from Hagrid's books, but it's not the same without seeing them up close," I said to fill the silence as we moved toward another staircase. "Does the Professor ever have any with her?"

Neville looked at me with a raised eyebrow for a moment before shaking his head firmly. "I think you might have the wrong idea of what this class actually is. Most of wizardkind doesn't bother with Pokemon, especially training them. This class is more of a… I guess you might call it a clinical approach? I'm not so sure you'll like it."

Oh. I was disappointed, but not really surprised. After seeing the way that Professor Grubbly-Plank had treated Morpeko, I should never have expected her to be a trainer herself. I couldn't imagine treating any Pokemon so thoughtlessly, not just a Pokemon that wasn't my own partner. Nevertheless, even a clinical and more studious approach could be beneficial. I couldn't imagine that learning about Pokemon in any capacity could be a negative.

"So, you never have any real Pokemon in class?" I asked again. A few students squeezed in the gap between Neville and I, and I had to swallow my guilt that I was probably slowing them down. If I could, I'd have moved over so they might have more room to pass, but I wasn't yet confident enough on my brace that I would step fully away from a potential support like the outside wall of the Grand staircase.

Neville shook his head, almost sad, as he tried to lean closer to talk. "Like I said, lots of wizards don't bother with Pokemon. Muggleborns are different, though. I guess that's because they grow up with them. Even then most of the time their magical studies kind of become a priority, so I don't really hear or see many of them becoming trainers. They're still too young to legally have a Pokemon of their own when they first come to Hogwarts, and students aren't allowed to have a Pokemon partner on the grounds, so mostly I think they probably don't bother."

To me, whose entire life was now more or less completely intertwined with having a Pokemon, that sounded more than a little sad. Yes the wizards and witches had magic and could perform half the amazing things that Pokemon could do with a swish of their wands, but to me their powers were never the most amazing thing about them. It was utterly amazing that Growlithe could billow out a tornado of fire on a whim, but more incredible was the bond we shared—a connection I'd never shared with any other creature.

Before I had the chance to voice my distaste, I tried to squeeze myself against the wall to get out of the way of the students I could hear coming behind. Before I even got the chance, I was being shoved hard into the brick wall. A gust of air left me as my shoulder connected to the bricks, and I nearly swore out loud at the unexpected contact. If I'd still had my crutches rather than the brace, I'd probably have gone toppling all the way down the next flight. Thankfully, the brace allowed me to have some pressure on the leg to stop myself from doing so.

Neville had been pushed as well, only in the other direction, directly into the railing of the stairs which he clung onto to stop from being flung over. He let out a groan and an 'oof' before looking up the stairs with wide, scared eyes at the backs of the group who'd pushed us out of the way to get past. It had seemed as though they might simply continue without saying a word, but instead they had abruptly stopped a mere few feet ahead, backs turned to Neville and I. There were three of them, two big and bulky students following behind a thin boy with platinum blonde hair.

As soon as I was properly back on steady feet it became immediately clear why they had stopped. Growlithe was above them on the stairs, teeth bared and loudly snarling with thin smoke billowing from his nostrils and licks of flame spilling out between his teeth. He might most often come across as a sweet natured companion Pokemon, but his normally relaxed state didn't denote at all how menacing he could be, especially when someone did something to me.

Wand in hand, the blonde boy turned his head around to address me, expression trying to hide his panic at the sight of Growlithe but not quite succeeding. His gray eyes were too wide, the quiver of his lip a little too noticeable, and his hands were trembling where they sat against his hips in false confidence. When he spoke, his voice shook, no matter how obvious his attempt to hide it was.

"You there, squib," he drawled, attempting to look mildly annoyed rather than fearful. "Tell your beast to step aside, or I won't be responsible for what happens to it." He looked down on us condescendingly, easy to do from a few steps up, but the two next to him shuffled their feet nervously and glanced between Growlithe, the blonde boy, and Neville and I.

Neville blanched and let out a whimper, but other than that all that could be heard was Growlithe's deep growl. He glared at the boy's back with eyes like wildfire, but he didn't move, as still as the eye of a dangerous storm. Against the target, earlier, he had been filled with ferocity and confidence, but there was nothing stressful in the air. Now, the tension was thick enough that it felt like I was breathing through syrup. A few students gave us—namely Growlithe—a wide berth and rushed past us, trying not to get involved, but more than a few students stopped to watch and whisper.

The person I'd been a month ago would have been apologizing and backing down without hesitation as to not cause a scene. I didn't want to be that Harry anymore. Growlithe's presence, even with this bullying twit between us, meant everything. Changed everything. I wasn't so helpless anymore, even if I had to rely on Growlithe's power to make that a reality. He was there, ready to take action on my word. I wasn't alone anymore, and I wouldn't be pushed around so easily.

My own voice shook when I spoke, but my heart was full of conviction. "Why should I?" I asked, trying to urge calm into my voice. My fists clenched at my sides. "You pushed us."

The blonde boy's eyes flicked a few times towards his peripherals, clearly unsure whether Growlithe might end up attacking. His wand was in his hand, but he wasn't really aiming it towards me. That was fortunate for him. After what had happened with the Death Eaters, it was more than likely that Growlithe would attack the second the wand was pointed in my direction, regardless of any orders I might give. Instead, he was waving the wand around, almost like it was an extension of normal hand expressions. "You shouldn't have taken so long. How is it fair to the rest of us that we have to wait on a cripple before we can get around? I mean, I've seen snails move faster."

He said it like it was a hilarious joke, and the two bulkier boys with him snickered and laughed. A few students in the crowd smirked, but I could see a small handful who frowned. No one stepped in, though.

There was a familiar pang of hurt that flashed through me as I involuntarily flinched at the words, frustration burning through me at my own reaction. The line was so similar to what Dudley and his friends might have said that it was like I was right back in Little Whinging, hopping on my crutches to get away from them. I thought I was done acting and thinking like this, but unfortunately, habits and old memories didn't go away that easily.

Growlithe barked, but it didn't sound angry. With how I was able to read him now, I'm sure it was to get my attention. One glance at him told me what he was trying to do. Our eyes briefly connected from behind the boy's legs, and my new reality became ever clearer. This boy wasn't Dudley, and I would not be that same Harry. I wasn't hopping on my crutches, I was walking—albeit slowly—on my new brace. I had a Pokemon, a future, and even a friend with me. Neville let out another almost inaudible squeak. He was still hunched against the rail like he was afraid of getting punched, and wasn't likely to be much help, but even the fact that he was there with me was something I'd never experienced before. Harry Hopper was an isolated victim. Harry Potter was a fledgling trainer, and I was not alone.

"You could always ask me to step aside? I'd have been happy to move for you," I said simply. The fists that had been clenched at my sides unfurled, and even though I could still feel the tension in my muscles, I suddenly felt more relaxed with the image of Growlithe behind my assailant. Even if I bumbled my way through this, Growlithe would have my back no matter what.

The boy sniffed haughtily and raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he wasn't used to being challenged. "Good, then you can tell that silly creature to move aside for us now. Or maybe I'll hex him out of the way. Think you could stop me, trainer?" His jeering attitude made it clear he was more than happy to turn his wand on Growlithe, and dare I think it, he almost seemed eager. I heard a choked gasp from somewhere behind me, but I didn't dare turn around in case he actually acted on his words.

Growlithe barked again and growled for a moment, as if to tell him that 'yes, absolutely we could.' It's the first time I ever heard the term trainer used as a slur, but that was definitely how I heard it. Clearly this boy felt himself superior to any and perhaps all Pokemon trainers. Either I was underestimating what student wizards were capable of or he was woefully uninformed on what Pokemon were capable of. I'd seen Growlithe fight against two adult Death Eaters and save my life in the process. The gap between Pokemon Trainers and wizards may not be quite as large as what he seemed to think.

It wasn't that I wanted to fight, but I didn't want to be cowed by someone like him anymore. That was especially true since Growlithe would be the one in danger, and I still did not like the idea of him fighting for real, especially without knowing what sort of things wizards could do. I was really better off not pushing my luck over something so silly. At least this time I'd responded with more than fake apologies and silent indignation. That was enough for me to be counting it as a personal victory.

"Growlithe," I said, voice steady and face impassive. "Let him through."

The growling stopped without hesitation or a questioning sound, and Growlithe returned to his calm, collected self, but he still didn't take his eyes off the offending boy. He wouldn't either, not until he was out of eyesight. There was a wave of murmurs when Growlithe stopped. Did people think he wouldn't listen? A Pokemon as loyal as Growlithe would never take it easy around a potential danger, and this incident showed both of us to keep a wary eye on this boy. If this bully were to make a move and cast a spell at me, I doubted even my orders would be able to stop the Pokemon from jumping in to protect me. Likewise, had I not ordered him out of the way, there's no way he would have moved.

"At least you know your place, squib," he said to me with finality.

I had the courage to actually roll my eyes where he could see me. Another personal victory.

The boy turned his nose up at me, like I was no longer of any significance, and briefly turned his attention to Neville who cringed at being addressed. "Have you really got so little shame, Longbottom? A pureblood like you hanging out with a broken squib? You're an embarrassment." With just that he sharply spun on his heel and strutted straight past Growlithe, apparently trusting that my partner wouldn't disobey my orders and attack him anyway, or rather preferring to pretend he didn't exist. His two followers snickered and grinned before turning to follow.

"Stay outta the way from now on, Potter," one of them droned.

I lifted an eyebrow, but refrained from responding. He sounded even thicker and slower than Dudley, and that was quite an accomplishment in my eyes. We watched as the group moved up the stairs, loudly complaining amongst themselves about the irritation we'd been. Now that the excitement was over, the other students who witnessed the situation started to move on. I pushed further off the wall and stomped my braced foot on the ground a couple of times, just to double check they hadn't broken it.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked as he finally straightened himself up and moved closer. His voice was small and hesitant, even a little ashamed. He seemed reluctant to meet my gaze, looking in my direction before glancing away. "I'm sorry I didn't do anything. I'm not very good in these situations…" His voice was quiet, as if he didn't want other students to overhear him.

I shook my head as Growlithe bounced back down the stairs to sit at my feet. He let out a short and quiet whine as he gazed worriedly up at me. I reached down to pat his head to reassure him that I was okay before answering Neville.

"Don't worry about it. Who were they anyway? The blonde one reminded me of my cousin Dudley. He's a jerk, too," I said.

Tears were brimming in Neville's eyes, but he lifted his arm to his face to brush them away. I was actually surprised to see him so upset about what happened. Maybe I was a little more used to this sort of treatment than he was? Given the fact that nobody had ever even attempted to sit with him at mealtimes or had acted in any way friendly towards him, I doubted it. Perhaps that comment about him being a pureblood? I didn't really know much about wizarding politics, so it could easily have been more offensive than I realized.

"That was Draco Malfoy. His family is one of the richest and most influential in wizarding Galar. He's kind of…"

"The worst?" I supplied for him.

Neville's smile appeared for just a moment before vanishing again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let him talk to you like that. If I was just a little braver…" He trailed off and slouched as if he could hide himself, a sentiment I've related to several times in the past.

Is this why he's so upset? Because he didn't step in?

"Neville, really, it's okay. Nothing much happened anyway," I assured him. "Calling me a squib isn't really offensive… It's truth. I'm not ashamed of it." I meant that, especially now that I was a trainer. For years I'd rued the fact that I was no longer a wizard. But if I had been, I'd never have had Growlithe as a partner, and the idea of that was completely unacceptable. If it came down to a choice between having Growlithe and having my magic back, Growlithe would win every single time.

Neville shook his head. "No, it's not okay. Malfoy doesn't hesitate to use his magic. His father is rich and powerful and on the Hogwarts board of Governors. He doesn't seem to have the same rules as the rest of us. If you or Growlithe got hurt because I was too much of a coward to tell him to sod off…" Neville looked as though he was speaking more to the ground than to me, going from where he was looking. His voice was still small and almost hollow.

Growlithe put his head under Neville's hand and pressed his face into it, all but forcing an attempt at comfort on him. It forced a small smile on Neville's face as he pat Growlithe's cheeks. Like usual, Growlithe and I were on the same page. It was oddly touching that Neville would be so upset on my behalf, especially since this was basically business as usual for me. I'd been right to feel comforted by his presence. It wasn't just Growlithe standing by my side. I had a real friend, too, even if he hadn't stepped in.

"Neville, the last time a wizard pointed a wand at us, Growlithe blew up half a house to keep us safe. I'm actually not that worried about a pointy faced git like him. Bet he's all bark and no bite, not like Growlithe here," I said. Growlithe barked his agreement. I'd seen his real bark, and his real bite. Draco Malfoy wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Besides, I'm not a student, either. I don't know if it would be as easy for him to explain hexing a guest instead of another student." Having no real understanding of how the wizarding world actually worked, I really didn't know if what I was saying had any merit. But I hadn't backed down like I would have in the past, so I was feeling confident, for once. More than that, I wanted to make Neville feel better. Really, I think having a friend of any sort was new to both of us.

"But we better hurry and get you to class. I don't want you to be late because of me," I cut Neville off before he could even think about apologizing again. He had no real need to. For the first time in my life I hadn't felt like someone needed to jump in to protect me, and instead I'd been the one who was a comfort to someone else. It meant everything.

I'd only been listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank for about five minutes before concluding that I'd made a terrible mistake in attending. Neville hadn't been kidding when he'd said it was a more clinical and methodical approach to Pokemon, but what he'd reallyunderplayed was the class' purpose.

I'd assumed that it was a class on Pokemon Care or at least just an educational approach to their biology and habitat, but that wasn't what it was about at all. The Professor talked about the creatures like they were no more than wild beasts likely to attack anybody on mere sight. Not that I'd had a whole lot to do with Pokemon myself before getting Growlithe, but even with my passing knowledge of the creatures, I'd never heard of anybody approaching Pokemon with such a putatively dangerous outlook.

"So, as we spoke about last lesson, Fire Pokemon are far more likely to be aggressive and volatile than Pokemon of another type with the exception of Dragon Pokemon. That isn't to downplay the danger that any Pokemon can pose, but generally speaking their personalities steer more towards the antagonistic," she explained, no room for doubt in her tone at all. She swished her wand towards the board to charm the chalk into transcribing her words.

Sitting on the floor next to mine and Neville's desk, Growlithe let out a snort, releasing a tiny plume of smoke in the process. I reached down to scratch behind his ear to reassure him that I wasn't paying any attention to her nonsense. His tail wagged along the floor as my hands touched the top of his head, and he slowly lifted his head straight up to look at me with his wide, blue eyes.

Not a single one of the books that Hagrid had given me to read about Pokemon had mentioned anything about them being dangerous or unpredictable. Certainly, the ones in the wild could be territorial, and yes, sometimes hostile to protect their homes or young, but to speak about all Pokemon in such blanket terms? If they were all solely dangerous and only instinctively attacked people, trainers wouldn't even exist. After all, Growlithe had been paired with a trainer that he hated and was forced to witness the bullying of me—who apparently he'd liked—and had never once attacked any of the Dursleys. That to me spoke volumes about the true nature of Pokemon.

"In order to defend yourself from a Fire Pokemon, it is important to understand the characteristics of both the type itself and the species you may one day find yourself facing," the Professor continued. "Outside of the usual repertoire of combat spells you could use to fight the creatures, you could focus on—"

With a yawn more bored than tired, I zoned out as the Professor went on to speak of type advantages and what kind of spells could be used to capitalize on them. I suppose in a cold sort of way I could have kept listening and learned some things—after all, she was talking about the same type advantages that I would need to know inside and out as a trainer—but it felt wrong to be learning about them in order to fight the Pokemon themselves, as though they were nothing but a danger to humanity.

"So Professor," a drawling voice cut across the room. I looked over towards the same boy who had assailed Neville and I on the stairwell. Draco Malfoy, Neville had said his name was. At the same moment I looked at him, he gazed over at my direction, flicking his eyes down at Growlithe by my side. I put a hand on his head protectively, even shifting in my seat so my legs were either side of Growlithe.

"Potter's Pokemon is a fire type, right? How would you advise us to defend ourselves against its species?" He barely bothered to hide his snide tone, and the hostility was easy to see in his eyes.

My other hand tightened into a fist on my lap, and my toes curled as the words left his mouth. Growlithe growled low, though I doubt anybody was able to hear it besides Neville and I. Defend themselves against Growlithe? It seemed such a stupid, unnecessary question. Why would Growlithe ever attack them? Why should they ever need to use magic against him?

But clearly, I was alone with those thoughts. I glanced around the room. None of the rest of the class looked as though they shared my concern at the question, and most even looked towards Growlithe or Professor Grubbly Plank in wariness or curiosity, as if imagining how they might fight him off. The closest anyone in the room came to looking as though they might share my opinion was Neville and his sudden frown, but whether that was about the professor's teachings or Malfoy's question, I wasn't sure.

"Hm? Oh yes, the Growlithe," Professor Grubbly Plank spared a glimpse in our direction before returning her focus to Malfoy. I couldn't help but notice the way that she'd said it. The Growlithe. It was so dismissive. Perhaps it wasn't quite accurate to say that her language was dehumanizing, since Growlithe wasn't a human, but it certainly felt like the right term to use. After all, how else would you describe a creature that understood every word you said? As far as I was concerned, Growlithe was as smart, if not smarter, than most of the people I'd met.

"Well, while Growlithe does have a powerful evolutionary line, it is certainly preferable to face it before it evolves," the Professor said. "That said, no matter its evolutionary status, it is purely fire type, and thus weak to the same sort of attacks. Any defense utilizing water, ground, or rock would be sufficient, although stunners and general combat spells would be effective, also. Any spells intended to hinder movement would be an intelligent decision."

I could scarcely believe her tone, as though she were describing the proper format of an essay instead of teaching her students how to hurt the creature I loved more than anything else on earth. It made me feel sick to my stomach, and I subconsciously fisted my hand in Growlithe's fur. Funny how she used the word defense. It sounded very much like attack to me. My teeth hurt from how hard I was grinding them.

True to all of the supreme loyalty he had shown me so far, Growlithe put his front paws on the side of my chair and softly licked my hand as if checking on my mental well-being during the current conversation was more important to him than his own. His eyes were filled with worry for me. I pressed my forehead against his, swallowing down my anger, and wrapped an arm around him just to feel him close and know he was okay. How could anyone discuss ways to hurt Growlithe at all, let alone when he's within earshot and fully cognizant of the conversation?

The answer was simple. Either they didn't believe that Growlithe could possibly have the intelligence to understand or they didn't care. No matter which it was, I knew they were mistaken even from my brief interaction into the world of Pokemon. Not just Growlithe, either. Morpeko had so clearly understood that he could come to me for food instead of scavenging and was able to find me at Hagrid's, exactly where I told him. Even when he was in hangry mode the first time we met, he never hurt me; he only went for the apple I gave. That was more than animalistic instinct.

"We rarely get the chance for a practical display, though, so unless young Mr. Potter has any objections?" The Professor's question broke me out of my thoughts, and I pulled back from Growlithe—but didn't let go—to look up.

I turned to her with a frown so severe it could easily have become permanent. "Objections to what?" Even if I'd wanted to keep the cool anger and suspicion from my voice, I couldn't have.

"Well, I think it would be helpful for the class to see a practical display of what spells might be effective against—"

I felt like an elastic band that was being stretched too far. "Are you asking me if I'll let you intentionally hurt Growlithe?" I snapped and subconsciously squeezed Growlithe tighter. Beside me, Neville shifted nervously in his seat and stiffly looked between the professor and I. I was furious and tense and hurt all at once, and I didn't know how to get out what I wanted to say. It all jumbled in my head, and there were so many things I wanted to yell all at once. What kind of school allowed a class like this? "Why would I let you—"

The Professor held up a hand to stop me, her eyebrows creased together as if she was confused at my reaction, and she would have almost looked concerned if her words didn't betray her. "There's no need to get upset. I wouldn't bring lasting harm, of course, but studying the theory can only get my students so far." She said it so matter-of-factly and calmly as if my reaction was uncalled for. It just enraged me more.

Lasting harm. Those are the words she used. Lasting harm. On any normal day, with any other teacher, this kind of retaliation wouldn't even be in the realm of possibility for me. As it turned out though, Growlithe wasn't the only one with a protective streak. There's no way I would let them talk about Growlithe like that, and especially not ask if they can purposefully cast spells intended to harm directly at him. I'd sooner throw myself from the highest tower in Hogwarts.

I jumped to my feet and slammed my hands on the desk to steady myself."Are you all insane?" I'd finally been stretched too far, my anger too far in control for me to be able to hold my tongue. I could feel myself literally shaking from the force of my rage. "Why would you need to defend yourselves against Growlithe? What makes you think he'd want to attack any of you? If you knew anything about Growlithe as a species you'd know that they are loyal above all else, so unless I was to order him to attack or you were to attack me, you'd never need to fight him at all!" Growlithe barked his agreement, sitting prim and proper between my feet as if to accentuate my point, and I rested my hand on his head once more to ground me.

My fists clenched at my sides, and I was sorely tempted to show them what Growlithe could do if I wanted him to. It was only that thought that had my anger begin to melt away. As good as it would be to watch Growlithe show them a thing or two, it would defeat my entire argument. Becoming aggressive would only reinforce their opinion, but still, that didn't mean I would just stand aside and let them hurt him.

"I don't know why you're getting so angry," Grubbly-Plank said, voice laced with genuine confusion. She held her hand to her chest as if she were the one being attacked. "You've been a trainer for merely a month, but I have been studying Pokemon and how they are affected by magic my entire professional life. I know exactly how torestrain but not hurt your Growlithe." She spoke as if placating a toddler, and it almost wound me up again, but it did make me pause.

At least in explaining herself I could see how she'd managed to form her opinions. In studying only the effect that magic has on them, she'd deprived herself of the joy of actually working alongside Pokemon. She'd come to conclusions about Pokemon based entirely on assuming their instinctive natures, and completely neglected to study what impact their nurture would have. It would be like allowing a human to grow up out in the wild without any knowledge of society, and then making a snap conclusion about all humanity based on that one person's characteristics. If Pokemon are as smart as humans, then nurture matters.

"What are you so afraid of, Potter?" Malfoy said with a light lilt to his voice. Clearly, he was finding this entire situation quite funny, but in a cold, cruel sort of way. "Don't think you're quite up to snuff as a trainer? Don't think you can handle a real witch or wizard? Your Pokemon might be able to breathe fire, but how many types can we cover with our magic?"

I screwed my nose up in distaste, but that wasn't the argument I wanted to have. I wasn't arguing because I felt like I was inferior as a trainer amongst a class full of wizards. I was arguing because they were learning about Pokemon like they were vicious beasts, and furthermore, learning how to fight them with magic.

I was still finding the whole idea of it completely baffling and the earlier frustration still simmered. Even the topic of trainers battling Pokemon in the wild wasn't treated like this. It was either an effort to catch a Pokemon in the wild by proving yourself worthy of it in battle or it was in defense if a trainer inadvertently stumbled into a wild Pokemon's habitat. But even wild Pokemon could be reasoned with and were never treated like they were dangerous and nothing but. Morpeko was proof. Rational people didn't treat intelligent beings like mindless beasts.

"Mr. Malfoy," the teacher scowled at the obvious baiting and tutted in admonishment, the first thing she'd done since the beginning of the class that I'd actually agreed with. "That behavior is beneath you. Mr. Potter is our guest, and if he doesn't want to allow us a practical examination that wouldn't be harmful, then we should respect that." The only comfort I could take from the situation was that Professor Grubbly-Plank at least didn't seem like she was trying to antagonize me, but the damage had been done.

With an eye-roll of my own, I pushed the chair out from behind me. Even in a supposed reprimand of Malfoy she was completely missing the point. It wasn't that I was opposed to anything practical, only that I didn't think any practical lesson involving hurting Growlithe would be at all appropriate. I wouldn't stay in a class that was teaching the literal antithesis of anything I wanted to learn.

I didn't even look again at the teacher or even at Neville before I was walking out of the classroom and back into the halls beyond, Growlithe loyally at my side as ever.

I was still complaining out loud to Growlithe as we descended the stairs minutes after leaving the class. "Can you believe she wanted to demonstrate how they could fight you?" I was shaking my head in disbelief. Growlithe let out a low, rumbling bark. Even being the one who was talked about in the class, he didn't seem as overly bothered as I was. In fact, he didn't seem the slightest bit upset about what happened—maybe just upset because I was—but I could tell he was listening. So long as I didn't agree with the sentiments expressed by Professor Grubbly-Plank, he was probably feeling fine. Even though I was glad to have Hagrid, Remus, and even Neville to a lesser extent, so long as I had Growlithe in my life I knew I'd be fine. He must have felt the same. Nobody else's opinion mattered. That didn't mean they didn't bother me, however.

"That was such a waste of our time. I can't believe how different their approach is to Pokemon," I continued, not caring one bit that it was just to Growlithe and that any potential passersby might think me a lunatic. I probably was appearing that way, throwing my hands into the air as I spoke through my frustration. It didn't matter. Growlithe could understand what I was saying. To me that counted as conversation even if he couldn't respond to me with words. Growlithe tilted his head toward me and barked, something in agreement, I hoped.

"When Hagrid told me you were thinking about attending one of Professor Grubbly-Plank's classes, I almost asked him to warn you that you may be disappointed, but it seems you've quickly come to the same conclusion regardless."

The voice nearly made me jump out of my skin, but I relaxed quickly when I turned to face the source of the voice, the elderly teacher who always sat to the right of Professor Dumbledore at meal times. I guess that's what Growlithe was barking about. Despite her advanced age, her hair was jet black and tied into a tight bun, and usually it was an eerie match for her severe expression. At the moment, however, her face was infinitely more relaxed and friendly, enough that it made her look a different person entirely. If I was remembering correctly, her name was Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher and the Deputy Headmistress.

"Uhh… well, yes, I—" I stuttered. Being caught by a teacher complaining about another felt a little like being a deer caught in a set of headlights, and I was at a complete loss for words. Given that I only ever saw her at mealtimes with a stern face and 'I'll give you detention' eyes, I was certain I was in for a punishment of some sort, even if I wasn't technically a Hogwarts student. Instead, she smiled softly, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and asked me to follow her. With what I'm sure must have been a quizzical look on my face, I set after her.

She was kind enough to slow down so that I could stay by her side, especially since I could tell from the way she moved that she would normally walk at a far brisker pace. Growlithe trotted alongside me, occasionally glancing his eyes up towards the woman as though he was trying to understand her, much like I was.

"Just so you know," she said after a long silence, "You are certainly not the first to attend a Pokemon class here at Hogwarts before deciding it isn't for you. You probably wouldn't have noticed, but I think you'd find that Professor Grubbly-Plank's class is attended entirely by either half-blood or pureblood students. The views you experienced in class are unique specifically to the wizarding world."

In a weird way, that did actually make me feel better. It didn't mean that I was wrong, but there was a whole world full of people learning what the students upstairs were. If being a trainer meant thinking and following what was taught back upstairs in Professor Grubbly-Plank's classroom, it definitely wouldn't be the life for me. However, with what Professor McGonagall was saying, everything I had learned so far had value. Plus, if those views were something the wizarding world thought, maybe there were some students new to this world who thought it was as ridiculous as I did. It seemed worth asking about.

"So, have you given your Growlithe a name?" she asked before I could say anything.

I shook my head and mumbled a negative reply, and now I was on a whole other thought train. I knew she was talking about the nicknames some trainers gave to their Pokemon. Hagrid had been at me for weeks to try to think of one, but I can't say I really liked any of his suggestions. Somehow 'Herbert' didn't really seem to fit despite how adamant he was that it was a fabulous name. For now, I was quite content to leave it at simply Growlithe. That was fine by him for the moment, but he'd also seemed excited at the prospect of having a name that I'd given him, so I'd have to come up with something eventually.

"Here we are," McGonagall said. We'd reached a simple door at the base of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower with her name inscribed on the darkened wood in big, brassy letters. As I'd thought, it named her as the Deputy Headmistress, but also the head of Gryffindor House, the table I'd been sitting at for every meal, not to mention the house that my parents had been in themselves at Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall held open the door for us to step inside before her. It was minimally decorated with a few small magical plants sitting in pot plants in the corners and a couple of moving portraits on the walls. Outside of that, merely a bookcase and a desk with simple wooden chairs. Its humble simplicity seemed to suit her. Growlithe sniffed the ground and picked up what scents he could from the air, but he remained at my feet.

She shut the door behind her before continuing to speak. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you for weeks, but especially now that you've attended a Pokemon class it feels like the appropriate time."

Why would she want to talk with me? It seemed a little strange, but she was speaking in gentle tones and with a kind smile, so I didn't really want to refuse. That became especially true when she knelt slowly down on the ground in front of Growlithe close enough that she could have given him a firm hug, impressive considering her age, and pet along the top of his head and down his back. She looked slowly down his sides and under his belly like she was examining him for faults. Growlithe let her without complaining, even shifting so she could get a better look. It was only for a few moments before she was climbing back to her feet. I held out a hand to help steady her.

She smiled as I helped her back upright. "Ah, thank you. I've wanted to meet Growlithe here ever since you got to Hogwarts," she admitted with a fond look at him. "He's really quite a spectacular specimen. Albus tells me he's been bred well, and you're clearly taking very good care of him. I can see the two of you becoming quite the pair, given time."

Before I could so much as thank her, she was gesturing to the chair in front of her desk for me to sit. I gingerly sat while she moved to its other side and took her own seat behind it. Growlithe, instead of sitting by my feet like always, hopped into my lap and turned in a circle to lie down. He didn't quite fit, his legs were spilling over my knees and his upper body nearly tipped over the side, but that was fine. I rested both my hands in the thick, soft fur on his back and idly pet him as we settled in. McGonagall watched with soft eyes and a tender smile.

"He trusts you completely, and you him," she noted with her hands clasped on her desk. "It's nice to see."

I couldn't help but smile and relax a bit, especially after the Pokemon lesson with Professor Grubbly-Plank. Here was a Hogwarts teacher that was actually appreciating the bond between a trainer and a Pokemon. She'd been the one to tell me that Grubbly-Plank's views were uniquely a wizarding perspective, but clearly she didn't share them herself.

"We've only been together a month… but I feel like Growlithe and I have been partners forever."

McGonagall nodded. "Of course, that makes sense, all considering. Albus told me how the two of you came together. There's nothing quite like winning the loyalty of a Pokemon, is there? That is the truth of any Pokemon, but Growlithe as a species tends to take that loyalty a little further, I believe. When you've won the love of a Growlithe, you've gained a partner for life."

With a smile I rubbed Growlithe's back with more fervor. Growlithe himself let out a loud, contended sort of growl, relaxing so far he nearly went sprawling off my lap. It was only my hands holding him that kept him in place. What McGonagall said was a nice fact to hear out loud, even if I'd read it in Hagrid's books. It felt like a confirmation. Growlithe and I were together for good.

"But I wanted to speak to you about how the wizarding world views Pokemon," McGonagall continued frankly after a moment of silence. She almost seemed regretful for interrupting. "I know that you're a squib, and your experience will be different, but since you're here at Hogwarts and have a link to the wizarding world that most non-magicals don't, I thought it prudent to have the discussion."

I nodded, but I didn't really understand why she would even be thinking about my wellbeing, since we'd never met, but I wasn't about to turn her down. During dinners I'd been thinking about how strict of a teacher she must be, given her pointed, severe expressions, but now she looked more like a sweet and loving—if also no-nonsense—grandmother. My mouth was opening up and spilling out words before I could even think of stopping myself.

"They were talking about ways they might defend themselves against Growlithe, but the way they were talking sounded more like attacking than defending…" I said slowly. "What possible reason could they have to ever hurt him?" I finished, troubled at the thought, and looked down.

Growlithe had relaxed to the point that his tongue was lolling out his mouth and his eyes were squinted in pleasure. His back leg kicked out as I scratched at his side, and he groaned quietly in pleasure. If they could only see him now, they'd surely have to see that Growlithe posed absolutely zero threat to them at all. Growlithe would never want to hurt anyone but in defense of himself or of me. Anything else was simply ridiculous.

A look of shame flashed across her features. "I wish I could say I was surprised. In too many wizarding families Pokemon are considered significant only for their potential threat. It's truly a shame."

"It's bizarre," I corrected. All my life I'd seen people partner with Pokemon, albeit from afar. Even if the only wizard I'd properly known was Remus, it simply did not compute that the perspectives between muggles and wizardkind on Pokemon could differ so very much. To one part of the population, they were essential as companions and they were abundant even in the workforce and the economy. To the wizarding population, though, they were clearly seen as mere dangerous beasts. It didn't make one lick of sense that such a huge gap between beliefs could possibly exist. Did wizards not even look at muggles?

McGonagall nodded her agreement. "I'm afraid it's not likely to change anytime soon. I would like nothing more than to, at the very least, change the way the subject is taught here at Hogwarts, but it is a far more complicated issue than you might think. To you and I it may seem simple, even logical, but to those who think as Professor Grubbly-Plank does… the real truth is that they believe our views as odd as we do theirs."

I shook my head slowly. "But why? Remus never mentioned anything like this…" I lifted a hand to squeeze at the bridge of my nose. None of this made any sense.

McGonagall let out a very subtle sigh and reached to a small ceramic jar at the edge of her desk. She took the lid off and held it out to me, open end first.

"Biscuit?"

Hesitantly, I nodded and reached for one. McGonagall smiled warmly before she continued to speak, placing it back on her desk.

"You've been lucky that your first experience with the wizarding world has been through a wizard as kind and open-minded as Remus Lupin. Although he is of course aware of the differing views between muggles and wizards, he's largely been apart from it…"

Because of his lycanthropy. The truth of it went unspoken. She paused to give me a knowing eye. I nodded sadly.

"I'm not surprised he's never talked about it." She carried on. "His friendship with your father and his family, as well as a muggleborn like your mother… pureblood wizarding perspectives would never have been a significant influence on him."

"Then my parents didn't believe—" I had to ask the question. I couldn't really believe that if they thought the same way as some in the wizarding world would change my perspective on becoming a trainer, but it would certainly help to know they would support the choice I was making for my life. I held my breath to wait for the answer. As much as I tried to tell myself it wasn't important to me, I couldn't help the effect it had on me.

"No! Certainly not. Your mother of course, as a muggleborn, grew up with Pokemon, and your father's family was very forward thinking, politically speaking. It was very unusual for the time, but your Grandfather on your father's side even became a trainer himself, after he retired."

Knowing my parents would have approved of my choices was a huge relief. It was enough to bring a small smile to my face, but it really just brought on more questions as well.

"Unusual? So there were no wizard trainers? What about now? Did either of my parents have any Pokemon of their own?" They came spilling out my mouth in rapid succession. Remus had never mentioned any of this.

She didn't seem to mind the questions and even appeared eager to give me some answers. "Oh, it was certainly unusual for the time, but your Grandfather wasn't one to be bothered by appearances or political gossip. His Litleo was the pride of his life. After your grandfather died, your mother and father helped to find Litleo a nice trainer in the muggle world. I don't think either of them wanted to see him fighting at their sides in the war…"

That alone answered my question over whether they had any Pokemon of their own. From the sound of it, they probably wouldn't have minded going to catch one of their own, but the war must have stood in the way of it. In a weird way, that was comforting. A Pokemon would have undoubtedly been helpful to them in the fight against Voldemort, but that would just have been pitting one more innocent life against his evil. They'd made the right choice, in my opinion.

"As for whether it is as unusual now…" McGonagall trailed off. After a moment's shuffling, she lifted a hand into the air, holding a familiar red and white pokeball. I sat up straight in my chair, careful to not let Growlithe go sprawling to the ground. She pressed the button on the front, and after a brief flash of white amorphous energy, a Pokemon appeared at her side.

Her Pokemon was far bigger than Growlithe, standing on two legs at probably about the same height as I was standing upright. Definitely some sort of flying type, or perhaps was one in it's previous evolutionary line, but not one I'd seen or remembered from any of Hagrid's books. It was primarily covered in brown and white feathers while the feathers above its shoulders and surrounding its head were a deep, forest green. They wrapped around its head like a shawl or a cloak. It stared at me for several long moments without blinking before twisting its head on its side, as though examining me with a quizzical eye.

Growlithe sat up immediately at the flash, standing up on my legs and staring intently right back at the Pokemon, probably deciding whether or not it was a threat. I gave him a quick pat on his back just to reassure him I wasn't in any danger. He sat back down, but where he'd been laying down before, he wouldn't again. If this new Pokemon even had the slightest potential of causing me harm, Growlithe would be alert and attentive. It was simply his nature.

"This is Decidueye," McGonagall introduced after we all had some time to observe each other. Decidueye itself let out a soft, owlish hoot and bobbed its head. "We've been together for quite some time now, haven't we, girl?" Another hoot. Decidueye turned to look at Professor McGonagall with what can only be described as loving affection.

"She's beautiful," I said through a breath of awe and admiration. If not for Growlithe sitting firmly on my lap, I'd already have been standing to get a closer look.

"Oh yes, and she's very aware of the fact," Professor McGonagall said, tone somewhere between admonishment and fondness. Decidueye lifted her head high and proud as if preening for attention.

"Then there are wizards who are trainers…" I said, relief flooding my voice. I slumped back in my chair in relief.

McGonagall nodded, but it was slow, and only once. "There are, but not a great many of us, I'm afraid."

"But why?" It just didn't make any sense to me. My grandfather had a Pokemon, but it was considered unusual for the time. Even now, decades after his death, it was still a rarity. I'd never before realized just how prominent the gap was between muggles and wizards. It had always been easy to assume that there were no real problems, but apparently that wasn't the case at all. It was almost like there were two different worlds, two different sets of rules, and two completely separate peoples. I'd been taken to regular doctors and mediwizards at muggle hospitals, and I'd met wizards out and around who had recognized me while looking completely at home amongst muggle communities—so why was there such a huge divide? Didn't any of those wizards see Pokemon out and about? See how they interacted with people?

"That is not an easy question to answer," McGonagall admitted, her face scrunching up into a disapproving scowl. "There is no one single fact that explains how things became the way they are, but it is instead the result of years of rapid change for the wizarding community. One needs only to look at our history to understand."

Is she talking about Voldemort?

"Once, and keep in mind this was not so many years ago that people have forgotten, but once, Pokemon were as important to our society as to the muggle communities, only in a very different way. As magical creatures, Pokemon were important to wandlore, to potions, to herbology… so much of our magic was dependent on Pokemon. The difference was that they were never our companions. They were tools, used to create powerful potions and wands and a variety of other magical tools."

The thought of it made me feel queasy, and I hugged Growlithe closer to me. I knew only a little about how some potions were made, but it was enough to realize that some were from literal body parts. The stomach of a goat, the brain of a frog, to name some of those I'd heard of. If it were the same for Pokemon…

"As Pokemon became more integral to muggle society, it became more and more frowned upon for wizards to use them in such a way. Since our societies are and were so intertwined, our laws slowly began to change."

McGonagall reached out to pat the feathers of her Decidueye. "For some wizarding families who had always associated quite eagerly with the muggles, the laws were not unwelcome. For others… it was seen as a destruction of our culture and way of life. Truth be told, I believe that to be utter hogwash. Disgraceful political dogma has led to some in our society denoting Pokemon to be mere dangerous beasts, unworthy of the protection of our laws. It's untrue, of course, but it is a convenient argument for them to make." She sounded resigned to the reality of it.

They believe Pokemon unintelligent, dangerous creatures… because of politics? I shook my head. I didn't know whether to blame the politicians and the people in power pushing such foolish ideas, or the gullible citizens who believed them. All they had to do to see the truth was spend a day or two in the muggle world. I scoffed in disbelief and irritation.

"Believe me, Harry, these arguments are more about status and power than they are about anything else. It is about wizards being superior in every way to muggles, and the belief that muggle influence over our way of life is supposedly destroyingour culture. This is why I wanted to speak with you. You are here at Hogwarts, and therefore under the protection of the headmaster. However, I still believe it would be foolish not to tell you why some will treat your status as a Pokemon trainer in a… negative light."

Like Malfoy.

His treatment of myself and Growlithe made a whole lot more sense now. The way he'd called me 'trainer' like it was some sort of derogatory remark—to him, it actually was. To him, Growlithe was a mindless beast, a tool, and he was absolutely superior with his magic to my lack of it. Bullies weren't new to me, but at least now I had some insight into why Malfoy thought the way he did.

"I see…" I said slowly. It was difficult to process it all. Even after the explanation I didn't quite understand. There was so much to wizarding history and culture that I was never privy to growing up, so much that I couldn't understand from a single conversation. Nevertheless, it was enlightening enough that I could at least begin to understand just what had happened in the classroom, and why nobody else had thought it a big deal.

"It's a little sad, isn't it? That they might never get to experience this bond? I'd sooner cut off my finger than be without Growlithe…" I said slowly, shaking my head at the mere thought of it.

Growlithe let out a whine at the thought of me hurt and turned his head from where he sat on my lap. He extended his neck and licked my cheek. I let out a short laugh and ruffled his fur.

"Maybe while I'm here at Hogwarts I can show people that they might be wrong about Pokemon…"

Would that even be possible? Neville was convinced already, but I got the distinct impression that he was more like my parents had been, more open-minded than his fellow purebloods. But then, even if he wasn't, it was only getting to know Growlithe that would do it. His sweet disposition, his obvious intelligence... Growlithe's very nature flies in the face of everything they think they know.

Across the desk, McGonagall was smiling wide. "You are your mother's son," she sniffled, her eyes a little watery at his mother's mention. "She always wanted to spread love and kindness, too." She reached for a tissue that must have been in one of the drawers of her desk and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Decidueye let out another soft hoot and stretched out one of her massive wings to pat at her partner's shoulder.

I dipped my chin down to my chest, pressing my face into Growlithe's fur hoping I wouldn't tear up, too.

My mind drifted back to my encounter with Malfoy. Would it be possible to change the mind of someone like him? To overcome years of what he has learned? Even if I tried, he would never respect anything I had to say. I was merely a squib. My opinion didn't matter to him even slightly. Without magic or power, changing their minds would be beyond difficult.

But, the thought of it did give me an idea. I sat up sharply, a smile flitting across my face.

"Professor, I know this might be a random question, but… all your spell incantations are Latin, right?"

She gave a hesitant and slightly baffled nod. "It varies around the world, but yes. Here we teach Latin-based spells."

"Do you know what the Latin word for fire might be?"

"The word for fire, singular, is Ignis." She stated with a curious raised eyebrow.

Ignis. Of all the names I'd considered for Growlithe in the past few weeks, that one seemed to fit the best. More than anything, it was symbolic. Malfoy and all the other wizards who doubted and judged the relationship between trainer and Pokemon could keep the magic that made them so supposedly superior. We had a power all our own. If it took a word like Ignis for them to cast a fire spell, then that seemed perfect for Growlithe.

"Ignis…" I tested the word on my tongue. "What do you think, Growlithe? You like that as a name?"

He barked and let his tongue droop out his mouth, lightly panting the way he did when I'd say something to make him happy. His tail wagged vigorously atop my leg.

"Ignis. Who needs magic, right? We have magic that's all our own."