Learning the Language
The next morning, Harry found himself back at the kitchen table, his notebook open and quill ready. It wasn't an official assignment, but something about the Pokémon world made him want to document everything he'd learned.
After a few hours of binge-watching YouTube videos, Harry had discovered a whole new dimension to the fandom. It wasn't just about playing games or watching the show—people created their own Pokémon regions. They weren't official, of course, but the detail and creativity some fans put into their work astonished him.
"Canon," Harry muttered, rolling the word around on his tongue as he wrote it down. It was a term that had popped up in nearly every video. He had quickly learned that "canon" referred to what was official or part of the original story—like the regions of Kanto, Johto, and Sinnoh he'd seen on TV. Anything outside of that, like fan-made regions or Pokémon, was "non-canon."
Harry paused, tapping his quill on the edge of the notebook. "Canon," he repeated thoughtfully. "So, like how Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic are canon in my world, but those stories Ginny tells about enchanted Quidditch brooms that choose their own riders... those would be non-canon."
The thought made him chuckle.
Returning his attention to the videos, Harry began scribbling notes as the creators discussed their work. One fan had designed a tropical region with islands and volcanoes, inspired by their love of sailing. Another had built a futuristic Pokémon region set in a sprawling city where battles happened in virtual reality.
Harry marveled at how different each creation was, but there were common threads he started to notice.
Every Region Needs a Map:
Almost every video began with a map, some drawn on parchment, others rendered with dazzling digital detail. The map served as the foundation, showing the major towns, routes, and landmarks where adventures could unfold.
Gym Leaders and the Elite Four:
Harry noticed that Gym Leaders were a big deal. Each region had them—special Trainers with a type specialty, like Fire, Water, or Ghost. The Gym Leaders were key to a Trainer's journey, offering challenges to earn badges. The Elite Four, on the other hand, represented the pinnacle of skill, guarding the way to the Pokémon League Champion.
The Professor and Starters:
A Pokémon Professor was essential, often serving as the guide for new Trainers. These professors usually studied something unique about Pokémon and provided new Trainers with a choice of three starter Pokémon—Fire, Water, or Grass types.
The Gimmick:
Harry scribbled furiously as a creator talked about a region's "gimmick"—the unique feature or mechanic that set it apart. Some regions had new battle styles, others introduced a new type of Pokémon, and a few even explored the idea of Pokémon fusion.
Villains and Legendaries:
Finally, Harry learned that every region needed its own twist on the villains and the legendary Pokémon. Whether it was a nefarious team trying to disrupt the balance of nature or a mysterious creature with god-like powers, these elements added drama and stakes to the world.
Harry sat back and flipped through his notes. The process of designing a Pokémon region wasn't so different from the challenges he'd faced as a wizard. Building a world with rules, heroes, and dangers—wasn't that what Dumbledore had done when he created the Triwizard Tournament? Or what he and Hermione had done when they crafted their plan to hunt Horcruxes?
But it wasn't just about rules and structures. The creators' passion was evident in every video. They poured their hearts into every detail, from naming their regions to sketching their own Pokémon. Harry felt an odd connection to them. They reminded him of Hermione when she got lost in her books, or Ron when he was planning a Quidditch strategy.
"I suppose that's what makes it special," he murmured, running his fingers over the page. "It's not just about what's canon. It's about making something your own."
As the day went on, Harry kept watching, his notebook filling with sketches, ideas, and questions. He wasn't sure why he was taking this so seriously—it wasn't like he planned to make his own region. Yet.
But something about the videos stirred a part of him he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't quite like casting a spell or fighting a duel. It was quieter, but no less magical. It was the thrill of creation, of imagining something entirely new and bringing it to life.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Harry was on his third cup of tea, and his notebook was nearly half-full. He stretched, groaning as his back protested hours of sitting. Kreacher appeared with a plate of sandwiches, muttering about how Master Harry was "forgetting to eat again."
"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said absently, flipping through his notes. He had written down dozens of ideas, mostly inspired by what he'd seen on YouTube.
One phrase, however, stood out among his scribbles.
"What would my region look like?"
Harry frowned at it, wondering when he'd written it. He couldn't quite remember. But the question lingered in his mind as he climbed into bed that night.
"What would my region look like?" he murmured to himself.
As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with strange, colorful creatures and landscapes unlike anything he'd ever seen before.