"Fire-type Pokémon?"
Harry raised his eyebrows, puzzled. Type matchups were the most basic rule in Pokémon battles—how could a professor make such a rookie mistake?
"He looks like he's doing it on purpose, don't you think?" Ron analyzed seriously. "I like Fire-types. I think Fire-types are the strongest."
Fire-types were indeed offensively powerful; they had quite a few advantages in battle.
"What do you think, Hermione?"
"I don't know." Hermione's gaze didn't waver from the battlefield.
Both Harry and Ron turned to her in disbelief.
"Did I just hear that right? She said she doesn't know!" Ron exclaimed dramatically.
Getting Miss Know-It-All to say she didn't know something was no easy feat.
"There's nothing strange about that. After all, it's Professor Gold. Who could possibly be better than him?" Fred strolled over and chimed in. "Oh, by the way, Camille just started a betting pool over there. You can bet on either the professor or Mord. I put down one Galleon on the professor."
"Me too!" George's head popped out from behind Fred.
"Where did you two get the money?" Ron's eyes widened. Two Galleons—that was a fortune!
"We have our ways," Fred said evasively, clearly not wanting to discuss money matters with Ron. "See you—we're off to find Lee."
The twins waved and melted back into the crowd.
"You know," Ron said, eyes gleaming, "this might actually be a good idea. The professor can't possibly lose, right?"
"Don't be so sure," Hermione frowned. "The professor's Pokémon is at a type disadvantage. And that Krabby looks about the same level as his Quilava."
"How can you tell a Pokémon's level just by looking at it?" Ron asked incredulously.
Hermione didn't answer—she just shot him a glare. "Anyway, don't even think about gambling! And you'd better not drag Harry into it either!"
Not that Ron had any money to begin with.
They didn't have much time to chat; the battle was already starting.
When Mord saw the Pokémon Professor Gold had sent out, he actually let out a breath of relief. If he had the type advantage, what was there to fear? Especially since he could personally join in the fight—something the professor couldn't do.
If only Snape could learn from Professor Gold…
Mord took a deep breath, preparing to make the first move—but he talked too much.
"Krabby, use Mud—"
"Smokescreen."
Before Mord could finish, Charles Gold calmly uttered two words. Krabby hadn't even reacted yet before Quilava, following Charles's command, erupted a thick cloud of black smoke from the vents on its back!
"Cough—cough!"
Dense smoke instantly filled the entire room. Even the young wizards in the audience were coughing from the irritation.
Mord fared even worse—the smoke stung his eyes, blinding him with tears. His Krabby, meanwhile, had lost sight of its opponent entirely.
"Just like spellcasting," Charles said with a slight smile, "short, precise commands can determine victory or defeat. If your bond with your Pokémon is strong enough, you don't even need to speak to move as one."
For him, battles were another form of advanced training in the Master's curriculum.
While Mord was still hesitating, Quilava attacked again.
The smoke barely affected it—after all, Quilava was nearly always squinting anyway...
Within the darkness, flashes of red flame flickered—then Quilava curled up, turning itself into a fiery wheel that slammed straight into Krabby's shell, sending it flying across the field.
"Krabby!"
Mord finally came to his senses—and remembered that he was a wizard.
"Whirlwind Sweep!"
A gust of wind whipped through the classroom, scattering the heavy smoke outward.
And of course, Mord couldn't resist being petty—he directed the wind toward the Slytherin side of the room, where most of his rivals sat. Outraged shouts immediately broke out among the green-robed students.
"Nice one!"
The Gryffindors burst into applause. Fred nearly climbed onto a chair to cheer, and might have done so if the female prefect hadn't yanked him down by the collar.
Still, Mord didn't feel nearly as triumphant as his housemates. Even though he'd cleared the air, Quilava had completely vanished from sight.
Krabby, looking dazed, had taken a hit but wasn't badly hurt—yet it was clearly on the defensive now.
From the very start, Charles had been leading Mord around by the nose.
"Dig?" Mord muttered, noticing a small round hole in the floor. It didn't take much to connect the dots.
"Krabby, watch your feet!"
He gave a quick warning, then pointed his wand at the hole.
"Bombarda!"
The hole Quilava had dug exploded outward, widening into a crater—but it didn't help. No one but Charles knew exactly where Quilava was hiding.
Mord silently cast a Heightened Senses Charm on himself, trying to locate it through vibrations in the ground.
A moment later, he felt it—a faint tremor beneath Krabby's legs.
"Quilava's right under you! Move!"
Krabby reacted swiftly, scuttling sideways to escape.
The next second, Quilava burst from the ground in an eruption of dirt and flame.
Mord seized the opportunity and fired off a Stunning Spell.
"Swift."
Charles didn't even flinch. Mord could use sensory spells—but so could he. The rules only said he couldn't fight, not that he couldn't cast any spells.
And Mord's casting was a little too predictable.
At Charles's command, Quilava fired a burst of golden stars that collided midair with Mord's Stunning Spell, neutralizing it, then landed lightly back on its feet.
Krabby wasted no time; it swung its gleaming claws down from behind in a metallic strike.
After months of training, its coordination with Mord wasn't bad.
But—
That silvery glint wasn't Crabhammer. It was Metal Claw.
A bit of teamwork, yes—but not mastery.
Krabby's claws slammed into Quilava's back, dealing only minor damage.
Seeing this, Mord's eyes lit up. "That's it! Grab it—lock it with your claws!"
Krabby snapped its pincers shut, clamping onto Quilava and lifting it high above its head in triumph.
The next instant—
Flames burst forth.
(End of Chapter)