Krabby launched a sneak attack from behind—but Cyndaquil's back was where its flame vents were.
A surge of scorching heat erupted from its back, blasting directly into Krabby's face at point-blank range!— Lava Plume!
The searing heatwave struck Krabby head-on.Boom!A burst of hot air exploded outward, spreading to the very edges of the classroom in an instant.
"So hot!"
Harry squeezed his eyes shut as the sweltering air washed over his face.
Everyone's eyes were glued to the battlefield. Dense smoke filled the room, obscuring everything.
A few moments later, the smoke began to clear—and standing firm in the arena was Cyndaquil, while Krabby lay fainted on the ground, its eyes swirling.
"Krabby is unable to battle—Cyndaquil wins!" Percy declared, raising his flag.
It was a Fire-type move, and while Lava Plume wasn't an especially powerful attack, the modified version had a base power of eighty. At such a close range, taking out a low-level Krabby in a single blow wasn't unexpected.
"As I thought… He still lost," Ron said regretfully, glaring at Hermione as if she were the reason for all his misfortune.
"If it weren't for you, I'd be a few Galleons richer right now."
"You can't say that for sure. Don't forget—it's a two-on-two battle," Hermione quickly retorted.
"But the Professor's already ahead! You really think he'll lose?" Ron shot back.
Professor Gold could even win against type disadvantages—how could he possibly lose now, two against one?
"Regardless, gambling isn't a good thing," Hermione insisted stubbornly, unwilling to back down.
Harry felt like the perpetual peacemaker between them. Every time they argued, it somehow fell to him to smooth things over—and it was exhausting.
"Quiet, you two—Mord's sending out his next Pokémon."
On the field, Mord recalled his fallen Krabby.
"As expected, he's not someone you can beat easily," Mord admitted, though he didn't seem surprised.
After all, Professor Charles Gold was the first man to discover Pokémon. Calling him a true Pokémon Master was no exaggeration. Even under unfavorable conditions, he could still pull off a victory.
The pressure was on—but as a true Gryffindor, Mord wasn't about to surrender.
"Go, Flaaffy!"
He threw out his Poké Ball, and a pink, woolly, bipedal Pokémon materialized in front of Professor Gold.
"Come on, Professor! I've only got one Pokémon left, but I won't go down without a fight!" Mord said firmly.
"Good spirit," Charles said with an approving nod.
Just for that attitude alone, the badge might already be half-earned.
Still, he had to see the match through to the end.
"Return, Cyndaquil." He withdrew his Pokémon and reached for another ball.
"Professor? What are you doing?" Mord asked, confused.
According to official rules, a Gym Leader forfeiting a Pokémon voluntarily could count as a loss.
Charles Gold had just given up his one-Pokémon lead—his advantage was gone.
"This Pokémon is called Frogadier—a Water type," Charles explained calmly.
"Koga!"
The blue frog-like Pokémon croaked softly in acknowledgment.
"If I remember correctly, Flaaffy's an Electric type," Hermione murmured, puzzled. "So Professor Gold just sent out something weak against it?"
None of the students had seen either of these Pokémon before, though Flaaffy looked like an evolved form of Mareep—one of the Pokémon Dumbledore kept.
"The Professor always uses Pokémon at a disadvantage, and he still wins easily," someone whispered in awe.
"Well, he is the strongest Pokémon Trainer," Ron said, his tone full of admiration.
The battle resumed.
Although Frogadier was at a type disadvantage, under Charles's sharp commands its speed overwhelmed Flaaffy—making every attack miss completely.
Predictably, the outcome of the second match was no different. Despite all odds, Charles won again.
In Pokémon battles, type matchups mattered—but speed was just as crucial.
As the saying went: No defense can withstand absolute speed.
If you were fast enough, you could dodge anything.
"In the end, I still lost."
Mord bowed his head, but there was no bitterness in his voice. Losing despite a type advantage—he had no excuse.
He didn't know it yet, but there was a concept called counter-type battling—and Professor Gold had mastered it long ago.
Though Mord was defeated, Charles still handed him a badge. The younger students watching could barely contain their excitement.
"I say, we should challenge the Professor next!" Ron whispered to Harry, his eyes gleaming.
"We each have three Pokémon—maybe we'll do better than Mord!"
"That's impossible," Hermione said flatly. "You can't even cast half your spells properly. Honestly, I doubt you've mastered the first-year material. You do realize failing exams means you repeat the year, right?"
"What? Are you serious? It's only March! Exams aren't for another three months!" Ron gawked at her.
He could hardly believe someone would start worrying about finals three months in advance.
Harry didn't say anything—but from his expression, it was clear he agreed with Ron completely.
"The earlier you start preparing, the better!" Hermione huffed, turning on her heel and storming off.
"That's exactly why she only has two friends," Ron muttered, shaking his head.
He and Harry left the clubroom together, chatting idly as they walked down the quieter corridors—better for conversations they didn't want overheard.
"So," Ron asked, "how's it going? You know, your investigation into Snape?"
Ever since Christmas, Harry had been secretly watching Snape.
Professor Gold refused to believe Snape was after the Philosopher's Stone, but Harry was convinced otherwise.
And honestly, no one could blame him. If someone had targeted Professor Gold that way, Ron would've felt the same.
"I've noticed he's been spending a lot of time with Professor Quirrell lately," Harry said in a low voice. "And Quirrell's been looking worse and worse."
"Maybe Snape's pressuring him—trying to learn how to bypass the Stone's enchantments," Ron guessed.
That matched what little they knew—and made perfect sense.
"I think Quirrell's going to crack soon. He's really not cut out to be a professor. Any student could probably do a better job."
"Hagrid says Professor Quirrell's talented."
"Speaking of Hagrid—remember Fluffy?" Ron asked. "As long as he's around, Snape won't get far."
But Harry still looked troubled.
"That was before. Now Snape's got Pokémon of his own."
(End of Chapter)