Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zuko fought sleep as long as he could, tried to watch as Katara fought his sister, but his eyes kept closing on him.

He wrenched them open a few times, the last time it was to blue eyes and cool, soft hands. Katara was beside him, he'd be alright. He didn't want to die, he refused to die. Not now, not after he'd finally gotten things figured out, not after coming so far and making it through so much, it wasn't fair. (When had his life ever been fair?)

But his body weakened, and Katara had only water and her own Chi to heal him.

It wasn't the worst way to go, her hands on his body, her comforting voice in his ears, it wasn't the worst way to go, but he didn't want to die.

His heart stopped between one beat and the next.

The world stopped.

The heavy pressure which had grown on his lungs disappeared, Zuko drew in a breath so fast he choked on the air. He coughed, rolling to his knees. He was no longer in the Palace Courtyard.

"Greetings, Prince Zuko," his mind blanked, because he couldn't figure out how to respond to the presence of so many Important Spirits other than by swearing, and that was not a good idea.

"We have an offer for you." Zuko blanched, Spirits had an offer? That was never a good sign

Zuko sipped his tea and fixed Agni with a stern look.

"Let me see if I've got this right: I died, but I wasn't supposed to, and you'll restore me to life so I can achieve my Destiny, but first I have to go to another world, and accomplish someone else's Destiny, as payment for this service."

"Yes," Agni inclined his head in agreement.

"And the person I'm pretending to be died, but wasn't supposed to?"

"Yes."

"And you can't or won't resurrect them because...?" Zuko did his best to emulate his Uncle's disapproving look, the one that always made him feel like a naughty child who'd been caught in the act.

"... It takes power to restore someone to life. Someone who fights to live requires less power to resurrect than someone who gave up on living. Likewise, it takes less power to replace an unwilling Hero than to resurrect them." Something about Agni's words sounded... off to Zuko.

"Could you replace me?"

"It would take more power than restoring you."

"But aren't you restoring me twice? Once as this other guy then again as myself?"

"... Look," the Spirit looked like he wanted to sigh in irritation, but managed to refrain. "There's this thing called a Destiny Factor, you have a similar Destiny Factor as the hero you're replacing, that's not as common as you'd think. The Spirits in charge of his world got lucky that you were in a position to be available and-"

Something in Zuko's mind clicked.

"Hold on... were you... am I getting restored to life anyway?"

"..." The faint look of panic and the guilty silence were all Zuko needed.

"I am, so I don't need to go live someone else's life in order to get back to my own!"

"Well, not as such... but we'd appreciate it if you did." Agni gave Zuko a hopeful grin.

"... are you trying to guilt me into this?"

"Is it working?" Agni's visible hopefulness increased.

"Yes, now stop it. … urgh, please stop with the face, I'll do it. But just so you know, I am unlucky and I make bad life choices, and I am not a Hero, I've killed people, and I know nothing about the world this other guy belongs to. What if I say or do something and people realise I'm not who I'm pretending to be?"

Agni grinned Brightly, as only the Sun Spirit could.

"Are you trying to blind me?!" Zuko flinched back from the sudden onslaught of light.

"Sorry, and don't worry, we'll give you a crash course in Harry Potter's life. You don't need to know much, he's a loner with no friends and relatives who hate him."

"That sounds kind of familiar."

"He also has facial scarring, though it's much smaller than yours."

Zuko wondered how much trouble he'd get in for throwing his tea cup at the Spirit.

Chapter Text

The sparse visions of Harry's life faded from Zuko's sight, replaced with the too close ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs. Key pieces of information slotted into place in his mind, important things he'd need to know, like the local language and how to use 'appliances.'

Also the names and faces of Harry's relatives, the innate knowledge that they didn't particularly care for Harry, and little else about them.

Zuko's new/borrowed body felt weak, like after The Agni Kai, like after his ship had exploded before the North Pole, like his time alone in exile, when he'd been starving and dehydrated, all rolled into one and multiplied. He was amazed it had lasted so long, but he knew from the Spirits that the body had only been kept alive by the Will to Live.

Even 'restored' it was running on will power.

Lucky for it, Zuko had a lot of that. Also sheer stubbornness, but then, will power was mostly stubbornness.

Zuko stumbled out of the cupboard after a few moments spent preparing himself; when he wandered into the kitchen he regretted it. Harry's aunt – Petunia – was in the kitchen, standing by a large tub in the sink that was releasing a horrific odour. It smelt terrible, chemical.

"What is that?" Zuko almost gagged, Petunia tightened her lips and glared at the boy she thought was her nephew.

"Your new school uniform," she sniffed primly, somehow immune to the pot's miasma.

"Was it contaminated with something? Burning it might be a safer option." Zuko was already running through the few waste disposal procedures he knew.

"Don't be stupid," Petunia snapped, "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Zuko doubted that, but chose to keep his silence as he slid into a seat at the table. Harry's other relatives – Vernon and Dudley – entered soon after. Both wrinkled their noses at the smell and settled into their seats.

Vernon opened his newspaper, Dudley banged a stick on the table and a noise came from the hallway.

"Get the post Dudley," Vernon's command came from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the post Harry." Zuko slid out of his chair and headed into the hallway. There were three things on the mat when he got there: a picture with words on the back and two envelopes, one of which was addressed to a 'Mr. H. Potter.'

He examined it as he returned to the kitchen, handing over the other two items.

The address included the cupboard under the stairs; the seal on the back was made of purple wax and showed a strange Lion-dog, a hawk, some kind of not quite badger-mole and a serpent.

Before he could open it though:

"Harry's got a letter!"

The man snatched it from Zuko's hands with surprising speed, the prince's frail body unable to react fast enough to stop him.

"Give me back my letter," Vernon scoffed at the request.

"Who'd be writing to you?" Vernon looked at the letter and blanched. What followed involved a lot of shouting and paranoia. Zuko and Dudley were kicked out of the kitchen, the door slammed closed behind them, and the duo were forced to listen at the door for further information.

The way Vernon and Petunia skirted around certain words caused a cold knot of dread to form in Zuko's stomach. The Spirits had told him to take Harry's place as a 'hero' in a hidden war, but the fire prince was starting to get the feeling there'd been something important they'd left out. He felt he should have been more surprised by that.

Several hours later, as evening turned to night, Vernon visited Zuko in Harry's cupboard. The Fire Bender got the impression this was a rare, if not unique, occurrence.

"Where's my letter? Who wrote to me?"

"No one, it was a mistake, I've burned the letter." It was a transparent lie, but Zuko chose not to push the issue, instead fixing Vernon with a long perfected glare. 'I know what you did, and I am very (homicidally) disappointed in you, and in no way amused by your actions.'

The youthfulness of Harry's face lessened the impact, but the glare still served it's purpose: Vernon shifted, uneasy.

"Look, Harry, your Aunt and I have been thinking, you're getting a bit big for the cupboard; it might be time for you to move into Dudley's second bedroom." Second bedroom? That bastard.

In response Zuko did something he'd wanted to do for over three years.

He raised his left eyebrow, in a judgemental 'you think this will appease me you gnat?' kind of way.

Zuko went along with the plan anyway; it took a single trip to move all of Harry's personal effects to the new room. Zuko swept his eyes around his new territory, taking in all the broken toys. Zuko was struck with an odd, paradoxical realisation, that while Dudley was a fat, stupid, lazy young boy, he reminded Zuko a little of Azula: pampered, spoilt and destructive.

A sick feeling roiled in his gut as he set about organising his new bedroom.

The morning that followed was filled with tense, wary silence. Dudley continued to sulk over the loss of his second bedroom. When the mail came, Vernon forced Dudley to get it; there was another letter to Harry, this time the address read 'smallest bedroom' rather than 'cupboard under the stairs.'

Vernon shot out of the room faster than Zuko would have thought possible, and tackled Dudley who was opening Harry's letter.

Despite the fact his current body stood no chance against either Dursley, Zuko jumped on Vernon's back; regardless of the odds, Zuko needed that letter (it was probable that it had to do with Harry's Destiny) and he couldn't just give up. There was yet more shouting, and a lot of Dudley whacking people with his stick; in the end Vernon prevailed, he pulled away from the boys with Harry's letter in hand, and commanded both to their rooms.

Zuko used his anger at the situation to fuel his body, trying to work it back into an acceptable, and familiar level of fitness, cycling his temporarily inflamed chi reserves through his pathways as he considered what to do about the letter.

If someone cared enough to know when he'd moved rooms, and to send a second letter somehow knowing he hadn't received the first, then there was a good chance they'd send another. Zuko just needed to get to the mail delivery officer.

Zuko rose before the sun, creeping down stairs in the dark. He froze on the bottom step, his hearing picking out breathing nearby. He realised Vernon had had the same idea. Trying to get around the large man in the dark was no easy feat, and Zuko ended up stepping on Vernon, the man waking with a yelp. Lights turned on upstairs and Zuko scrambled back.

Vernon shouted for half an hour, (no where near as terrifying as Zuko's father or even his sister,) then ordered Zuko to make him a cup of tea. Tea in this world was different to the tea his Uncle made, a jug of water was boiled and poured over a tiny bag and you were done.

Still, by the time he returned the mail delivery officer had been, leaving three letters in Vernon's lap, which the man was tearing to pieces.

Zuko bit down the urge to spit fire at the man, his body wouldn't be able to handle it, and Harry's relatives would know he wasn't Harry.

The letters kept coming, Vernon kept keeping them from Zuko. The man snapped several days in.

It was a Sunday.

Dozens of letters had poured down the chimney, but still Vernon stopped Zuko, wrestled him away from the envelopes and began shouting instructions at the family.

Not long after that, all four members of the household were packed into Vernon's car, and were on their way. Vernon was twitching as he drove, muttering to himself.

"Daddy's gone mad hasn't he?" Dudley looked to his mother for reassurance, before lapsing into complaints about missing his shows.

They stopped at an inn over night, the following morning the woman at the desk had almost a hundred letters for 'Mr. H. Potter,' which had appeared without warning. Vernon took them all and disposed of them before packing the car, and taking the three of them on a long and confusing journey.

It was afternoon when at last they stopped by the shore, Vernon locked the three of them in the car and took off.

When he at last came back it was raining, and he carried a long, thin package.

"Found the perfect place! Come on! Everyone out!" It was cold and wet outside as Vernon showed them the rocky isle off shore, a miserable shack just visible atop it.

"Storm forecast for tonight! And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!" An old, toothless man indicated a small rowing boat as old as he was, bobbing in the iron-grey water below them. "I've already got some rations, so all aboard!"

Vernon's attempts to keep Zuko from the letters was excessive, and was about to get them all killed, but with no better plans (and Vernon's steel-strong grip on his shoulder as he manhandled Zuko into the boat), Zuko went with the Dursleys to the shack.

Vernon's idea of rations turned out to be a packet of something called 'crisps' for each person, and four bananas. Afterwards, Vernon tried to start a fire with the crisps packets – Zuko could have told the man they wouldn't burn – but the packets just shrivelled and smoked. Despite his failure Vernon was in a good mood.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" Zuko didn't bother telling him real parchment was shit for making a good fire. If the letters had been made from fake parchment maybe, but Zuko was raised a prince before he'd been a flag officer, he'd handled enough documents to know the difference between animal parchment and plant parchment.

Zuko felt a brief twinge of sympathy for the small horde of animals which must have died in the making of Harry's letters.

As the night went on, the storm around them grew worse and worse. Even the combined snoring of Vernon and Dudley was drowned out by the howling winds. Zuko had to admit, the chances of the letters making out to the shack weren't good.

Vernon and Petunia slept beside one another on the lumpy bed in the next room, Dudley was curled up under several (thin and worn) blankets on the dilapidated couch, and Zuko had been left to find a soft bit of ground to sleep on. The thin and hole riddled blanket he'd been given did nothing to keep him warm.

Zuko settled himself into the Horse Stance in a corner of the room, half so he could accustom his new/borrowed body to the stance that was one of the foundations of his Bending Art, and half so he could cycle his Chi a little easier. Harry's body cramped only a few minutes into the exercise, but Zuko maintained the stance for a few minutes more.

He allowed himself to collapse to the ground, and begin stretching the cramps out, just before a loud BOOM sounded at the door.

The second BOOM woke Dudley.

"Where's the cannon?"

Vernon came crashing out of the next room with a long thin object in his arms, it looked to be the same dimensions of the package he'd brought with them.

"Who's there? I warn you I'm armed!"

Zuko just kept working out the cramps.

The door slammed off its hinges, falling to the ground with a smash. A large figure filled the now open doorway, the man (far larger than any man Zuko had ever met) ducked through the doorway.

"Sorry about that," he picked up the door and shoved it back into place, "Couldn't make us a cup o' tea could yeh?" He had a strange accent, different from the one the Dursleys had.

The giant man had to stoop a little to stop from hitting his head on the ceiling, he moved to the couch where a terrified Dudley sat staring.

"Budge up, yeh great lump." The stranger sat down as Dudley ran to hide behind his mother. "An' here's Harry!" Zuko stared at the man who smiled at him. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby." The man peered closer, "yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

Zuko was about to ask the man who he was, and how he knew his (Harry's) parents, when Vernon spoke up.

"I demand you leave at once! You are breaking and entering!"

"Shut up Dursley, yeh great prune," the man reached over and yanked Vernon's 'weapon' out of his hands (now Zuko was able to recognise it as a rifle, a small memory 'package' from the Spirits supplying information on the gun: a high velocity projectile weapon like a bow and arrow, but far more dangerous), and with apparent ease, the giant turned the rifle into a metal knot, throwing the result into a corner.

Vernon's reply was a sad, frightened sound like a mouse being crushed. The stranger turned back to Zuko.

"Anyway Harry: Happy Birthday!" Zuko hadn't known it was Harry's birthday, he probably should have asked what, exactly, was deemed 'important information' by the Spirits. "I got summat fer yeh here, I mighta sat on it at some point but it'll taste all right." From one of the pockets of his black overcoat, the stranger pulled a slightly squashed box. Zuko took it but didn't open it; like he was going to eat food from a stranger. (He hadn't been that desperate in months.)

"Who are you," the Fire Bender's question was met with a chuckle.

"True, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He reached for Zuko, but the prince dodged back, the stranger – Rubeus Hagrid – seemed hurt by Zuko's motion, and clasped his hands together in an emotionally defensive gesture.

"How about that tea then? I'd not say no to summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shrivelled crisps packets and he snorted; Hagrid bent down, blocking their view of the grate. Zuko placed the box he'd been given on a rickety table, freeing up his hands just in time to feel a strange twist of energy, and a fire burst into life in the fireplace.

Hagrid pulled back and revealed a blazing fire. The flame's presence was comforting for Zuko even if the fire felt... odd, uncertain and a little unstable somehow.

The giant Keeper of Keys settled back into the couch, and set about pulling various items out of his coat. For a moment Zuko was reminded of his Uncle Iroh and his hoarding habits. Hagrid took a swig of amber liquid from one of the bottles he'd taken out, before starting to make tea and cook sausages.

As the smell of cooked sausages permeated the shack, Dudley began to fidget, looking hungrily at the food.

"Don't touch anything he gives you," Vernon commanded his son. Hagrid chuckled.

"Like yer great puddin of a son needs any more fattenin'." The giant offered Zuko a sausage, who eyed the food with suspicion.

"I still don't know who you are."

"Call me Hagrid, everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts o' course."

"No, I don't."

What followed was a very informative shouting match about Harry's history, his parent's murder at the hands of some bad guy (not a car crash as the Dursley's had always told Harry), the school where they'd met and learned Magic, (Which Zuko was starting to suspected the Spirits had not told him about on purpose) and the history of the bad guy who'd killed Harry's parents. (But who somehow hadn't been able to kill Harry with magic?)

The argument was sidelined, when Hagrid spotted Dudley taking advantage of the distraction to eat the food from the box Hagrid had given 'Harry.' It looked like it might have been a chocolate cake at some point.

Hagrid pulled a pink umbrella from his coat and swung it through the air, a ripple of light flung from its tip to hit Dudley right on his tail bone, a second later the boy had a curly pig's tail poking through his trousers.

The Dursleys flew into a panic over Dudley's posterior, and Hagrid took the opportunity to give 'Harry' his letter.

Zuko read through the letter twice, and cursed out the Spirits who'd sent him in ignorant of just what kind of 'hidden war' he was getting into. Then he stopped, he was replacing Harry, and judging by the Dursleys' reactions, Harry hadn't had this information either, so the Spirits had sent him in with the same level of information that Harry would have had.

Zuko cursed out the spirits all over again.

"What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," Hagrid pulled an owl from yet another pocket in his coat, along with a long feather and a roll of parchment. Hagrid used the tip of the feather – 'quill,' Zuko's info dump supplied – to scribble a note. Zuko edged around beside Hagrid to read it.

'Dear Mr Dumbledore,
Given Harry his letter. Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible. Hope You're well.
Hagrid.'

He rolled up the note and gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, before he went to the door and threw the owl out into the storm. Hagrid came back and sat down as though this was as normal as sending a messenger hawk in fine weather.

This of course started another argument about whether 'Harry' was going to magic school or not.

Hagrid won the argument, and Zuko decided to just go along with it, for the time being.

Chapter Text

The morning that followed the strange, stormy night was sunny, and no less strange.

Zuko was woken by an owl, which Hagrid had told him to pay, which had brought up the question of currency. That was how Zuko had learned Harry's parents had left him money, in a bank vault in a wizarding bank, run by Goblins. Which was to be their first stop of the day.

Though Zuko couldn't figure out why Hagrid had brought him to a pub.

"I thought we were going to a bank."

"We are," Hagrid said trying to usher the boy inside.

"But this is a tavern, are we stopping for a drink first? I don't think I'm old enough."

"No Harry, we're not stopping for a drink, this is the best way to get to Diagon Alley from Muggle London. The entrance is behind the pub, we've just got to duck through it to the alley out back." Zuko eyed Hagrid with suspicion, but didn't argue.

The pub was a lot like taverns in his world, a little smoky, a bit noisy, and smelling of beer. Zuko used Hagrid's bulk to hide himself from view as they entered and, when one of the room's occupants called out to Hagrid, he slipped from the man's side and made for the door the giant had been angling for.

"Can't Tom, I'm on Hogwarts Business." Hagrid moved to clap 'Harry' on the shoulder, but the boy was not there, looking around he saw the boy lingering, halfway through the back door. "Maybe later?"

Zuko rubbed his scar lightly as he waited for Hagrid by the exit, he'd experienced a sharp pain as he passed behind a man in a turban, he wasn't sure if it was the overwhelming stench coming from the head wrap, or something else entirely.

"Alright Hagrid," Tom waved the man off, doing a second take when he followed Hagrid's gaze, and direction, to the back door.

The boy eased out through the door before Hagrid caught up. Tom smiled to himself and whispered 'Welcome back Mr. Potter.'

"Now Harry, you shouldn't go running off like that."

"Sorry Hagrid but it occurred to me: you said I was famous, what would have happened if those people had realised who I am?" Hagrid floundered a bit as he realised 'Harry' would have been swarmed with well wishers, and they could have been stuck in the pub for an hour or more.

"Fair point Harry."

"So where's this entrance?"

Hagrid pulled out his umbrella again and counted the bricks in the wall, Zuko watched with interest as the giant man tapped the tip of his umbrella against a specific brick three times. Zuko's eyes widened in surprise as the bricks moved in neat order, rearranging themselves into an archway as if they'd been reorganised by an unseen Earth Bender.

Magic was obviously far more elementally versatile than bending, Zuko hoped he'd be able to wrap his mind around it enough to be effective at it.

The Alley was filled with eye gouging colour, and more festive noise than Zuko had seen in a long time. All around he noticed strange happenings, which others seemed to take in stride as part of everyday life. Zuko grabbed hold of Hagrid's coat, and let himself be pulled along, taking in as much of the Alley as he could while Hagrid's bulk cleared them a path through the crowd.

Gringotts bank was a towering white building with burnished bronze doors, guarded on either side by small misshapen looking creatures in red and gold apparel.

"Yeah, that's a Goblin," Zuko nodded as Hagrid answered his unasked question. The Goblins bowed as the entered, years of cultural inclination had Zuko performing a mild and perfunctory bow in return, his hands posed before him in traditional Fire Nation style. His action seemed to confuse the Goblins, but Hagrid hurried him into the bank before he could really think about it.

There was a second door made of silver, words were written on the surface, but Zuko was more interested in the Goblins themselves, again they bowed and were confused by his return gesture. Hagrid and Zuko entered the bank proper, and Zuko's eyes widened again.

There was a long counter filled with Goblins weighing and counting and writing. A rough count had Zuko at a hundred Goblins, still more Goblins leading people in and out of the dozens of doors lining the walls.

The giant man and the boy made their way to a part of the counter where a Goblin scribbled in a ledger, one of the few Goblins not dealing with human people.

"Morning," the Goblin looked up from his work. "We've come to take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his Key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," Hagrid began pulling things from his coat once more. The Goblin sneered at the litter that begun to cover his work space.

"Excuse me," Zuko addressed the Goblin while Hagrid searched for the key, "I'd like a copy of my finances, who do I see about that?" Zuko had been put in charge of his ship's finances at the start of his banishment, his Uncle had made sure the young prince knew how to manage his money in real life, not just the theory his tutors had harangued him with.

Hagrid had said James and Lily Potter (Harry's parents) had left him (Harry) money. That didn't mean Zuko would have enough to just spend as he liked, or even to get through the education system.

"Got it!" Hagrid interrupted, presenting the key. The Goblin looked closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore, It's about You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." The Goblin read the letter.

"Very well, I'll have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!"

Hagrid crammed his things back into his pockets, and the duo followed yet another Goblin through a door.

"What's You-Know-What in vault 713?" Zuko asked as they went.

"Can't tell yeh that. Very secret Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

But it was alright to perform the secret business in front of him? Something about that seemed off to Zuko.

The rock around them changed from well lit marble, to torch lit dark stone as they crossed the threshold of the door. The stone passage way Griphook led them through went down at a steep angle, to what looked like mine cart tracks; Zuko had only seen their like a few times when he'd visited old mines in the Fire Nation Colonies.

Miner's used them to move heavy carts of ore around the tunnels when Earth Benders weren't available.

Griphook whistled in a loud, high pitch that made Zuko cringe and cover his sensitive ears. ( He'd been so pleased the Spirits had seen fit to let him keep his 'freakish' hearing, it had been one of the things he and master Piandao had bonded over during his sword training, and it was so useful for gathering intel... or gossip.)

A small mine cart hurtled up the tracks and pulled to a stop in front of them, at Griphook's bidding they got in. (Hagrid with a little more difficulty than Griphook or Zuko.)

The cart moved by itself, changing tracks without interference from the Goblin, Zuko did his best to keep track of their route in his head. At one point in their journey he thought he saw a burst of flame, and wondered if that was the Dragon Hagrid had said they kept to guard the vaults. (He also wondered how the Goblins had gotten the Dragon to agree to act like a Guard Lion-dog.)

When the cart at last came to a stop Hagrid stumbled out, looking very green, and leaned heavily against the wall. Zuko felt his mouth twitch and found himself thinking 'Aang would love the cart ride.'

Griphook opened the door, a billow of green smoke releasing into the tunnel. Zuko covered his mouth with his baggy shirt until it cleared.

The Vault was filled with coins made of gold, silver and bronze.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid told him, handing him a bag (which Zuko turned inside out, then right side in, to make sure it was empty, considering Hagrid's pockets one couldn't be too careful.) "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle."

"How much are my school supplies?"

"Erhh... I don't know," the giant man shrugged.

"How many years of school are there?"

"Seven."

Zuko eyed the treasure, deep in thought calculating the vault's content. He threw three handfuls of each coin type into the bag and hoped it would be enough, if not he'd have to come back; though if he had to come back, he would be very concerned about his financial situation.

They exited the vault, Griphook closing the door behind them, Zuko turned to the Goblin.

"When do I get my key back?" The Goblin sneered in response and handed over the key. The trio piled back into the cart.

"Vault 713 now please, and can we go a bit slower?"

"One speed only."

Despite Griphook's statement, Zuko was sure they were going faster than they had gone, when they'd travelled to his vault.

Zuko felt the gradual descent of the tracks as they went deeper, the air growing colder as they hurtled around implausibly tight corners. Hagrid grabbed him by the shirt as they crossed an underground ravine, Zuko tensed at the unfamiliar, and unexpected contact, but didn't fight it as he stared into the expansive darkness.

There was no keyhole in the door of 713.

Griphook warned them to stand back before he melted the door away with a stroke of his finger, gleefully telling Zuko that any non-Goblin who tried that would be sucked into the vault and trapped.

"Can I try?" Griphook and Hagrid gave him an odd look. "I've never been eaten by a door before. And you'd let me right out wouldn't you?"

"We only check the vaults for prisoners every ten years."

"Yes, but Hagrid's a customer, and he wants to get in this vault, so you'd let me out in a few minutes anyway. It's not like I'm trying to steal anything, I just want to get sucked through a door, so I can tell people about the horrors of crossing Goblins." Zuko did his best to look innocently curious.

Griphook looked at Hagrid who just shrugged, and nodded his consent. The Goblin closed the door and stepped back, Zuko took his place and reconsidered what he was doing.

He lifted one hand to run it down the door like Griphook had, only for his finger to sink through the stone, something tugged on his arm and he found himself being pulled through the door, rock moving around him like water.

The inside of the vault was well lit, which Zuko found strange before he thought about it: seeing the dimensions of your prison was a form of psychological torture just as much as being trapped in the dark was, in the dark you could trick yourself into believing the prison wasn't as bad as it was.

Or you could trick yourself into thinking it was worse.
Either way, it saved him from having to exhaust himself using his Fire Bending to inspect his target.

Zuko picked up the ratty looking package he'd seen from the outside, untying it quickly and examining its contents. A single red gem the size of his fist rested within. Despite appearance, it wasn't a ruby or garnet, when he breathed on the surface the condensation evaporated immediately like a diamond, but he'd never seen one this colour.

Zuko re-wrapped the stone and stood to face the door, just in time for Griphook to open it.

"That was fun," Zuko allowed a small, genuine smile to turn the corners of his lips up.

Both Griphook and Hagrid looked at him like he was crazy.

"Here you go Hagrid," Zuko passed him the package as he exited the vault.

One wild cart ride, and they were back in the main room of Gringotts.

"Might as well start with yer uniform, Madam Malkin's is just up the road... Look Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick me up at the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

He did look rather green.

"It's fine, I can find my way." Hagrid nodded and hurried out of the building, before Zuko could do the same he was approached by a Goblin.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes."

"Your requested financial documents have been prepared for reading in one of the side rooms." The Goblin gave a 'follow me' gesture.

"Thank you," Zuko followed.

Zuko rubbed his temples and stretched. Even with the weird transfer rates from one coin to the next, his finances weren't too horrifying to wade through.

According to his (or Harry's) transaction history, the money had sat in the vault untouched for almost ten years.

The vault's net value accrued a small amount of interest, which covered its bank fees. The records also showed a second vault belonging to his (Harry's) parents. The account was frozen pending a will reading, one of the last transactions had been a large transfer to pay for Harry's (now Zuko's) Hogwarts education. All seven years.

It made Zuko breathe a little easier to know he had less things to pay off then he'd anticipated, now he just had to hope the contents of his vault would cover school supplies and general living expenses.

He'd have to start smuggling in his own food if he had to return to the Dursleys.

He asked the Goblins about the Wills of James and Lily Potter, but was told they'd been sealed by the Supreme Mud-wimp... or something. Something about the epitaph rang a bell in the back of his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

It was something to look into.

Chapter Text

Zuko started with Madam Malkin's, as Hagrid had advised.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" Zuko nodded, "got the lot here, just finished up with another first year." She took Zuko to the back of the store, and had him stand on a stool while she slipped a robe over his head, and pinned it to the right length. It didn't take very long, and he only had to stand for the first robe.

Madam Malkin carried it away, and returned soon after with three plain black robes, and a winter cloak.

"There you are dear, now we just need your hat and gloves." She helped Zuko pick them out before retreating to the back room again, returning with exact, fitted replicas.

Zuko realised the apparent lack of apparel in the front of the store was because what he saw was only for display, the real stock was out back.

"Madam Malkin?"

"Yes dear?"

"I was wondering if you had a list of prices for your stock. I'd like to know so I can budget for next year. Also, do you know how much school supplies are for first years, I asked Hagrid but he didn't know, and I don't want to have to keep visiting my vault between stores because I underestimated the pricing."

Zuko employed one of Aang's preferred tactics, and proceeded to look as pathetic and helpless as he could. Which, Zuko being Zuko, wasn't very pathetic or helpless at all, more of a nervously determined, though Harry's body did add a little patheticness to the image.

Madam Malkin still melted. She handed him a price list of her wares, and gave him an estimate on the price of his books and equipment. Zuko did a mental calculation, he had more than enough to cover that in his pouch, even if the prices were several times higher than she'd estimated.

'Well crap,' Zuko thought as he realised he (or rather Harry,) might be rich... or school supplies were very cheap.

"Is there... do you also do... Muggle style clothing?" He'd noticed a distinct lack of trousers as he'd walked through the Alley, not that he minded robes, he just preferred trousers. He caught the minute sneer on Madam Malkin's face.

"Not us dear, if you really want Muggle style clothing, you might try way down the Alley at Trews Tailors."

"Thank you Madam Malkin," Zuko tried to smile in that happy way Aang did but failed, Madam Malkin smiled back anyway as she rang up his clothes. Zuko paid, but paused before he could leave.

"Uh... do you know where I could get a trunk to carry and store my things?"

"Malleteir Luggage, it's halfway between here and Trews."

"Thank you," he added a bow and left.

Malleteir was filled with luggage. Some wood, some metal, some leather, some combinations.

Zuko left with a wood and metal Saragota Trunk (which had wheels on one end so he could pull it along behind him), and a leather satchel for school.

He left Trews in a new outfit, and with directions to a shoe store, to get boots without laces. The part of the Alley near and past Malleteir had far less foot traffic; when he questioned the attendant at the Cattin' Boots she told him 'this half of the Alley has shops run by Muggle Borns, the Pure Bloods prefer to pretend this half of the district doesn't exist, so do the snootier Half Bloods.'

Which led to his discovery of 'Blood Politics.'

Zuko felt sick, 'Fire is the Superior Element' ringing through his head in his father's voice.

At a small eating establishment, the Sunflower Café, Zuko bought himself a very late breakfast, and inquired about food storage. The Café did picnic lunches, for a Galleon extra they supplied a basket that kept food fresh for a week after it was placed inside. Zuko ordered two of the largest sandwich picnic spreads they had, along with drinks. The attendant gave him an order receipt, and told him to return later.

(Unbeknown to Zuko, the attendant had noticed the signs of malnourishment in the boy's face, and rushed to the kitchen as soon as he left, ordering nutritional supplements added to the two picnics as they did every time a child walked unto their store in such a state. Something that was growing thankfully less common as the last war became less an looming reality and more a distant memory. When Zuko paid, the price had been heavily discounted.)

Florish and Blotts, in the 'main' half of the district, was still the best place to get his books, but he stopped at an arts, crafts and writing supply store for his quills, inks and parchment. He also added more familiar tools like brushes and ink stones.

Sokka had once described the Great Library to Zuko, Florish and Blotts was a messier, more colourful version of how he imagined it. Despite the array of books Zuko couldn't find anything on crystals or gems, he settled instead for a book on magical artefacts, hoping the red gem from 713 was an artefact, and not just a rare red diamond.

The Apothecary had strange ingredients Zuko had never heard of, and lacked any medicinal herbs he did know; he left disappointed.

Next to it at the Cauldron shop, he found the required cauldron, a brass telescope, crystal vials and a set of brass scales.

All he had left was his wand, and to pick up his sandwiches.

Hagrid found him trying wands. (37 and counting.)

(Olivander had seemed disappointed when Zuko hadn't jumped in surprise at his 'sudden' appearance. The slight wheeze in his breath, and the sound of his clothes rustling had given him away to Zuko's superior hearing.)

"Harry, where've yeh been?! I thought summat horrid had happened to yeh, I was lookin' for yeh everywhere!" The giant seemed to be holding himself back from sweeping 'Harry' into his arms.

"Sorry Hagrid, I thought you were waiting for me at the Leaky Cauldron." That had certainly seemed to be the plan they'd agreed on, hadn't it? "I didn't mean to take so long. I just have to get my wand, and pick up an order, and I'm done... Hagrid, why do you have an owl?"

It was not the tatty looking brown owl he'd pulled from his coat the night before, this owl was pristine with white feathers.

"Ah, this is fer yeh, since that pig of a cousin ate yeh cake; Happy Birthday Harry."

Zuko stared at the owl.

The owl stared at Zuko.

Zuko had had a pet Hawk once, he'd named her Amber, and taken the best care of her. Amber had been the best Hawk in the entire world.

Then Azula had snapped her neck, and set her on fire in front of Zuko.

"Uhh... thanks Hagrid. Has it got a name?" Zuko was not going to cry, it was just a bird, no big deal.

"No, I thought I'd leave her name to yeh."

"Right," Hagrid handed the bird over and Zuko settled her on top of his luggage, and went back to wand shopping.

He made it to 50 before Ollivander got a distant look in his eye and started muttering to himself.

"I wonder, yes, why not?" he brought a box from deep in the back, "Holly and Pheonix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

A foreign warmth crept up his arm from his fingers as soon as he touched the wand, a fizzing sensation tickled his scar (which was really more of a scratch, in Zuko's opinion), and Ollivander looked gleeful.

"Give it a wave." Zuko complied, red and gold sparks erupting from the wand tip. "Oh bravo! Yes indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..." Ollivander kept muttering about how 'curious' it was, clearly wanting Zuko to ask.

So he did.

"What's curious?" It was going to be something Destiny related, he just knew it.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why its brother gave you that scar."

'Called it,' Zuko tried not to smirk.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter... after all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Zuko gave the old man his most unimpressed face.

"Uh-huh. How much for the wand?"

Hagrid trailed Harry down to the Muggle Born end of the Alley, to a café with a large yellow flower on the front, the boy exchanged a receipt for two baskets and a small parcel.
Harry was not how Hagrid had imagined him, he wasn't mischievous like James had been, for all he looked like him. He wasn't uptight or bubbling with curiosity like Lily.

The boy seemed mistrustful.

It stung to remember him flinching back, when Hagrid had gone to shake his hand, and the tensing of his body when Hagrid had gripped his oversized shirt to stop him falling out of the bank cart. As he watched, he noticed Harry moving subtly away from people, and wondered if it wasn't Hagrid the boy was flinching from, so much as the contact.

The half giant felt sick.

Tom Riddle had had similar tendencies about contact, preferring to initiate and control any physical touch he had. But the boy who'd had him expelled was much different; he was cold and vicious, pretending to be charming.

Harry was mistrustful, but Hagrid saw how he was with the owl, stroking her feathers delicately like he was afraid she'd break. And there'd been a brief moment of curiosity and 'fun' when he'd asked to try the trap at Gringotts.

Harry Potter was nothing like Hagrid had expected, it was easy for him to realise he'd been hurt by the Dursleys (Professor McGonagall had been right about them), but maybe Hagrid could do something for the son of two of his friends.

Hagrid took him to a train station, to put him on a train back to the Dursleys.

The large man handed him an envelope with a ticket for the school train as they entered the station. When Zuko checked the ticket he noticed the platform number read '9 ¾' which seemed a bit strange to him.

He asked Hagrid about it, the giant of a man flinched and apologised, realising he'd forgotten 'Harry' wouldn't know how to find the platform. He pointed out the pillar to the boy, and Zuko let out an understanding 'Oh!'

"So it's like the 713 vault door?"

"A bit I suppose, but yeh can go two ways with the platform entrance."

"Hagrid... how does an entire train and platform fit in a pillar?"

"It doesn't, not really, the platform is somewhere else this is just the doorway."

"A hidden door in the middle of a high foot-traffic area? And no one's noticed? Ever?"

"Well there's wards around it, to make sure muggles don't notice."

"Couldn't they put the entrance somewhere else though? Is there a back door or anything?"

"I don't know, I've only used the pillar."

Hagrid helped him purchase the ticket for the train ride back to Harry's relatives, but before the transaction was completed something occurred to Zuko.

"How much is a return ticket?" Trains might have been moved by something different and mechanical, but they weren't too different from Ba Sing Se trams.

Zuko doubted Vernon or Petunia would be too thrilled with him if he asked to be driven to the King's Cross train station, but the station at their end of the line he might even be able to walk to.

Hagrid paid for both of Zuko's tickets, (even though Zuko had exchanged a small amount of wizarding currency at Gringotts, and had the correct currency) refusing Zuko's attempts to pay him back saying "It's still yeh birthday."

The prince noticed an inexplicable shadow of guilt in Hagrid's features, and let the matter drop.

Chapter Text

Zuko spent the month before his trip to Hogwarts training, both his body and his 'magic.' The latter of which came from a source of energy separate to his chi, yet paradoxically, seemed to occupy the same place inside him. Which may have been why his first few attempts at magic fell apart, as the two energies tangled.

He also practised with his new quills, it took most of the month before his writing was any form of legible. He vowed to never tell anyone about it, Piandao might have a heart attack if he saw the results of his former student's first efforts. Zuko felt safe to assume Harry hadn't known how to use a quill either, but given the information the Spirits had put straight into his brain, and it's bare bones nature, he could say for sure.

His attempts at magic weren't all failures, and he managed to get through all his books at least once, even 'A history of magic' and 'Magical theory' which were so dry and boring, Zuko almost fell asleep on the pages a few times. (He'd also narrowed down the possibilities of the Red Stone from the vault).

Fire Bending was going much better, his body was recovering faster than he'd thought it would, his ongoing orders of sandwiches and drinks from the Sunflower Café were helping a lot. They even sent him cakes and pastries with his orders, which he sent thank you notes for every time, because you did not annoy those who supplied your food.

The Dursleys spent much of the time pretending he didn't even exist, which suited Zuko just fine, since it gave him more time for preparations. As a Flag Officer he'd lead several missions, some with very limited intel. Being over prepared was better than being underprepared, at least in his opinion.

Zuko had also named his owl; while going through his magic history book, he'd read a name and had such an over whelming feeling of 'that's the one,' that he was certain the Spirits were involved. Zuko supposed 'Hedwig' might have been what Harry would have chosen, and the Spirits of this world where helping maintain his cover. Or they just really liked the name Hedwig, it was hard to tell with Spirits.

The afternoon of the day before he was due to take the train to Hogwarts, Vernon dropped Zuko off at the much closer local station where he caught a train to King's Cross. At King's Cross he tucked his trunk in a corner of a waiting area, curled up in an over sized jacket, and fell asleep.

Hedwig woke him early in the morning, when she found him after her hunt.

The clocks in the station told him it was almost five o'clock, and according to Hagrid the portal opened at six. Zuko had plenty of time for morning ablutions, and breakfast, before he approached the pillar.

If getting sucked into the door of vault 713 was like falling through water, passing through the pillar was like walking through heavy fog.

The platform on the other side hummed, (like Roku's Temple on Crescent Moon Island, the Oasis at the North Pole, the City of the Sun Warriors where he'd danced with Dragons - but fainter, like the Alley and the Bank tunnels).

There were three adults on the platform, two men and a woman, they looked at him in surprise when he appeared.

"Bit early aren't you?" one of the men called.

"The platform opens at six, I thought that meant we're allowed in at six," Zuko said, preparing to be kicked out.

"Oh you are, dear," the woman assured, "most folks don't come 'til after eight is all."

Zuko relaxed.

"Train doesn't leave until eleven, you're in for a long wait," the other man said.

"That's fine," the men helped him put his trunk on the train. "So how did you three get onto the platform? Is there another entrance?"

"Of course there is," the first men scoffed, "it's how the train gets out."

"Michael," the other man shook his head, "I think he meant people entrances."

"Ahh... well yes, there's a second one of those too."

"The other entrance is through the back of our travel shop," the woman said.

"Travel shop?" Zuko's interest peaked.

"Yeah, in addition to running the train to Hogwarts, we also run a Magical Travel Agency," the man who was not Michael explained. "Not as popular as floo or portkeys, but a much better view."

"May I see it?" Zuko didn't really care about a travel agency, whatever those were, he just wanted to know where the second exit was; if there was one thing he'd learnt in his stint as 'The Blue Spirit' it was: Emergency Exits should come in a variety of flavours.

"I suppose, John can show you while I get started with the train," Michael said.

The other man sighed and made a 'follow me' gesture, Zuko introduced himself as they walked. John's eyes flicked towards Zuko's forehead when he said his name was 'Harry', and a small 'yeah, I figured' smile slid across John's face.

"Alright come on, it's not much to look at the moment though, the store is closed on Hogwarts days, it's just Wendy stocking the food trolley right now."

"Wendy?"

"Our sister," Zuko hadn't realised the three were related. Now that he was looking for it though, he could see similarities in their features.

Wendy was loading food from a series of large containers onto a single trolley. Zuko was certain there was more food going in than the trolley should have held.

"Oh hello, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just showing Harry the other entrance and the store."

"Alright," she turned her attention to Zuko, "Harry was it?" Zuko nodded, "I'm Wendy, it's nice to meet you."

"Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you too." Zuko bowed as he spoke, very shallow as he always did, there were few people in his own world he bowed deeply to, and none in this one. It still caused raised eyebrows from the siblings.

"Well, you want anything from the trolley you let me know, I usually start my rounds at the half way point of the journey, but I'm willing to make an exception for such a polite young man." When she smiled, her cheeks dimpled.

He had food from the Sunflower Café, but he was curious about the kinds of confection foods wizards ate.

"Do you have a price list?"

Zuko had never heard of any of the treats on the list, but somehow when he left the travel store he had an armful of travel brochures, and a basket full of food. As well as a warning about the enchantments on the chocolate frogs.

By the time Zuko had gotten settled into his compartment, and read through all the brochures, the platform had begun bustling with activity.

The displaced prince spent the remainder of his time before the train left watching people through the window. The families made his heart ache for his Uncle's presence.

He missed Katara and Sokka and Aang and Toph and even Suki. He missed his home and his Mother.

Making a noise of disgust Zuko turned away from the window and curled up in his jacket and tried to sleep through the sounds of goodbyes. He'd been missing home for three years and survived, and now he was getting emotional?

A shrill whistle and a jolt of motion woke Zuko, as the train finally prepared to move. He pushed himself into a better sitting position, and untwisted his jacket; the train ride between London and Reading, and the taxi trip back to Privet Drive, had given Zuko a small glimpse at the country – better than Vernon's mad drive at any rate – but from what Zuko understood, the train he was on now would be taking him almost all the way to the other end of the country.

He wanted to see how it compared to the world he knew.

The compartment door opened, and a young red-headed boy entered. Zuko was still getting used to the outrageous hair colours this world boasted.

"Is anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full."

Zuko's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, the boy had asked like it was a formality and he didn't really expect an answer, plus if everywhere else was full Zuko could hardly turn him away.

"Go ahead," Zuko gestured to the empty seat, and tried not to set the new comer alight, it would be bad for his reputation, and the boy wasn't doing anything wrong.

The boy did a double take of Zuko as he sat down. The prince noticed a smudge of black on the boy's nose.

The door opened again before he could say anything about it.

"Hey Ron," a pair of twins with the same loud hair as the boy – Ron – stuck their heads in. "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train, Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

Ron looked sick as he mumbled "right" at the twins. The Information the Spirits had given him confirmed the tarantula was a spider. Zuko could understand why the idea of it might make the young boy uncomfortable. He could not understand why the Spirits had included that piece of information and not other things.

"Hello?" the twins turned to Zuko, as if just realising he was there. "Fred and George Weasley. And Ron, our brother." He wondered which twin was which.

"Harry," Zuko offered his 'name' as way of reply, unsure of what else to say. The three red-heads all looked at his forehead. He bit back a sigh.

Zuko really didn't know why everyone was making such a fuss over such a small scar. To be honest it was tiny, he'd seen bigger eyelashes... and alright they were on a working girl his Uncle had taken him to for his sixteenth birthday, and Zuko may have jumped out a third story window to escape the advances of the perfumed lady -

Zuko realised his mental ramble had drowned out something Ron said.

"By Merlin, Ron, you can't just ask someone if they're Harry Potter." The twins, mistaking Zuko's momentary lapse of attention for discomfort, made some noise about their brother's rudeness and excused themselves.

Ron sat looking very uncomfortable and very red. Zuko wondered if it was healthy to turn that red.

"Sorry... but are you, you know, Harry Potter?"

"Yes," the lie was getting easier and easier to tell.

"And that's where you-know-who..." Ron gestured to his own forehead and at Zuko's as he made a face.

"So I've been told." Ron gaped at Zuko's Forehead. For several minutes. Zuko sighed heavily and turned his attention to the world outside the train. He knew he should be trying to play nice, but Zuko was a poor conversationalist at the best of times, never mind with an awestruck 11 year old wizard. What did they even talk about?

Magic? Maybe? School?

"So... I heard you went to live with Muggles." Where had Ron heard that? "What are they like?"

"Muggles as a whole or the people I live with?" Zuko's query seemed to confuse Ron for a moment.

"The people you live with?"

Zuko considered his response.

"Magic makes them uncomfortable, our relationship it strained because of that." They were also horrible people, from what he'd observed during their time together, but Zuko chose not to mention that.

"What about you, what's your family like?" That was an appropriate question wasn't it? Especially since 'your people murdered them you Fire Nation scum' wasn't liable to be the response.

"I've got five older brothers. I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good grades and everyone thinks they're funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand and Percy's old rat."

Zuko missed the awkward silence already. He also couldn't remember the letter saying students could keep rats. Cats, Owls and Toads yes.

Ron had reached into his pocket and pulled out the rat in question. It was fat, grey and asleep. Zuko found it inexplicably repulsive, something about the rodent he couldn't quite put his finger on causing him an inherent discomfort.

"His name is Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a Prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink, and he started staring out the window.

Zuko spent a few minutes calculating in his head, even his vault of money would have trouble sending six people to Hogwarts at full tuition with new gear every year.

The cabin lapsed back into silence, for which he was grateful.

After the train had left London it sped through fields filled with cows and sheep, Zuko watched the world so similar and so different from his own. Almost an hour later the rattling of Wendy's trolley drew Zuko's attention from the window.

The woman herself knocked on the door and popped her head in.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Zuko shook his head, he still had most of the food he'd bought of her earlier.

"No thanks, Wendy," Ron shot him a confused look, before turning very pink when he realised Wendy's attention was on him, the boy muttered something about having brought sandwiches; Wendy shrugged and left with a wave.

Both Zuko and Ron brought out sandwiches, unlike Zuko's, Ron's were wrapped in a lumpy package. When he unwrapped it there were four sandwiches, which he pulled apart with a disgusted look.

"She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Zuko sighed internally.

'Yes, I get it already, poor Ron, his life is full of such woe(!)' Zuko held out one of his sandwiches, it was curried egg, one of the few foods in this new world that had any form of spice in it.

"Here, I'll trade with you." Trade relations were a good step towards friends.

"You don't want this, its all dry. She hasn't got much time, you know with the five of us."

By 'she' Zuko assumed Ron meant his mother.

'…'

"I thought two of your brothers had left home." Zuko's sudden change of topic confused Ron for a moment.

"Oh yeah, I've got a little sister too, Ginny, she's starting Hogwarts next year."

Zuko let out a quiet 'oh' of understanding, and went back to offering his sandwich, sans trade.

Ron pulled a face as he devoured the curried egg sandwich.

"That's a bit hot."

"Really, I thought it was pretty mild. There's some jam ones, if you'd prefer."

After the first sandwich, Ron lost any reluctance to accept Zuko's sandwiches, the dry corned beef laying forgotten to the side.

Outside, plains and fields gave way to woods, rivers and green hills.

A knock came at the door soon after they'd finished eating, Ron having consumed several times as many sandwiches as Zuko. The door opened to reveal a young, round-faced boy with teary eyes.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?" Zuko and Ron shook their heads, which prompted the newcomer to wail "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," Zuko reassured the boy, then (before he realised it was a bad idea to say it out loud) added "unless he's jumped off the train."

The boy fled the compartment crying, and the displaced prince realised his error. He felt a little bad about it, and made a mental note to apologise to the boy. Ron, it seemed, felt no sympathy for the boy.

"Don't know why he's so bothered. If I'd brought a toad I'd loose it as quick as I could. Mind you I brought Scabbers so I can't talk."

'So why are you?' Zuko wondered. The aforementioned rat continued to snooze on Ron's lap, Zuko wondered if Ron's apathy meant he wouldn't mind if Zuko burnt the scruffy looking rodent to a crisp; it kept bugging him, though he still wasn't certain as to why.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," and Ron was talking again, so Zuko shoved his murder plans away. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..." Ron took a moment to rummage in his trunk, and pull out a battered looking wand. The wood was chipped and the end had something white and shiny sticking out the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Any way –"

The compartment door slid open aggressively just as he raised his wand. Zuko hadn't realised sliding doors could be opened aggressively. The toadless boy was back, this time he had a girl in Hogwarts robes with him. She scowled at Zuko.

"Are you the one that made Neville cry?!" Zuko leapt to his feet and fixed the newly identified Neville with a look. He pressed his hands together and bowed – he even added a little depth to show the sincerity of his remorse. Time to get this over with.

"I am. Neville: I apologise, my words were inappropriate, and I spoke without thinking, I understand if you do not wish to forgive me, but please allow me to make recompense by helping to search for your toad."

Zuko looked up through his eyelashes. (Eyelashes, on both eyes. It was perhaps a little sad that it was still novel for him to have both sets). The other three seemed frozen, Zuko was starting to realise his behaviour might somehow be odd. Was his apology too formal? Not formal enough? Was helping find the toad insufficient recompense? Why couldn't the Spirits have included proper social etiquette in their 'mission briefing'?)

The girl's eyes slid around the compartment as if looking for escape. They landed on Ron's raised wand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat herself down and Ron looked taken aback. Neville, realising Zuko was waiting for a response, gave him a shaky nod. Zuko took it to mean he was forgiven if he helped search, and straightened from his bow.

"Er – all right." Ron cleared his throat and went back to demonstrating the spell.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. The girl fixed Ron with a suspicious look.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Zuko silently wondered the same thing, all the spells he'd read were in a language known as Latin. They also weren't rhymes.

"Well it's not very good is it? I've tried a few simple spells myself, they've all worked. Quite a surprise though since no one in my family's magic at all." Zuko caught a shadow of a sneer on Ron's face as the girl talked about how pleased she was to be attending Hogwarts, it being the very best magical school there was.

"- I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -" the girl's boasting made him think of Toph, so desperate to be seen as worthy, as more than her blind eyes - "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"I'm Harry," oh yes, that lie was getting very easy to tell. "Now Neville, where was the last place you saw your toad?" Zuko had tracked a sky bison through the air across an entire world; toad on a train? No problem.

It took longer than expected to find the toad, wedged behind a sink in one of the bathrooms, but Zuko did it. He also suggested Neville think about better storage once they got to the school.

By the time he made it back to his compartment, the sun was wallowing low on the horizon.

"Finally," Ron had changed into his robes at some point while Zuko was gone. "Did you meet that bloody prat who was looking for you?"

"No," Zuko unlocked his trunk and dug out his own robes, slipping them on over his clothes.

"Oh, well, some blonde git was looking for you. Did you find the toad?"

"Yeah, it found a damp spot in one of the bathrooms and holed up." He'd spent half the time searching, having flashbacks to Aang in Pohuai. He never had found out why Katara and Sokka needed to suck on those frogs.

A voice echoed through the train, (Zuko recognised it as Michael's,) it informed everyone the train would be reaching their destination in five minutes, and they were to leave their luggage on the train, as it would be taken to the school separately.

The train pulled into a station not long after, as night began to fall. Zuko took Hedwig out of her cage, where she'd spent the day sleeping. She gave him a bleary eyed glare, and took off into the twilight sky as he stepped off the train.

From further along the platform he could hear Hagrid's voice summoning the first years to him. When they were all assembled, Hagrid lead them down a dark path, lit only by the lantern he carried. The path was steep and narrow, and Zuko was surprised no one fell down. The nervous silence was broken by Hagrid, as he called back over his shoulder.

"Yeh'll get yer fir' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round this bend here."

Then they turned the bend, and the path opened up to a giant, black lake. Across it, perched on a mountainous cliff, was a castle unlike any Zuko had seen. The other children let out a loud 'Oooooh!'

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid's instructions broke the stupor, and he led them to a small fleet of boats sitting by the shore. Zuko helped Hermione, Neville and Ron into a boat, before settling himself in. He searched the boat with his eyes, looking for oars of some sort.

It turned out there was no need. Hagrid checked everyone was in a boat, called out a commanding 'FORWARD,' and the boats began to move by themselves. As they drew closer and closer to an ivy covered patch of cliff, Zuko was distracted by movement in the water.

He leaned carefully from the boat, and almost startled hard enough to tip it over, at the sight of a very familiar face in the water.

Chapter Text

Katara turned from her victory over Azula and ran for Zuko's prone form. She hit the ground with a painful jolt, but she ignored her discomfort in favour of pulling water to Zuko's wound.

His name was a mantra in her head, a rhythmic beat against a million prayers begging for his life, all of it washed away by the sound of her blood in her ears. She shoved and pulled and manipulated the chi at her hands, trying to force his body to heal.

Katara drew on any strength she had left, even pulled from that part of her that had surfaced beneath the moon, and played with blood like water.

She felt dizzy, the world seemed to disappear until his body beneath her hands was all that was left.

His heart stopped.

The world stopped.

Against her healing chi, his very spirit seemed to pull away, she reached for it, metaphysical fingers just brushing the edges as he escaped her.

She dove after him.

Two pairs of hands, one for each arm, hauled her from the water.

"Yue?"

"Katara," the princess turned Moon Spirit smiled in welcome. Across from her the Painted Lady moved some of Katara's soaked hair off her face. "Welcome to the Spirit World."

Katara sat her tea cup down, careful not to get the billowing sleeves of her borrowed robes in the drink. Across from her, Yue did the same.

"So let me see if I've got this right: the Spirits have stolen Zuko's spirit and sent it to another world - for several years - so he can fill in for a guy who was supposed to save the world, but who gave up and died before he even got started."

"That's right," Yue dipped her head in a graceful nod.

"And I accidentally fell into the Spirit World because, in my desperation to save Zuko, I somehow managed to tap into a higher form of the Healing Arts, which allows me to touch the spirits of my patients." Katara's tone indicated she suspected at least partial bullshit on how she'd gotten there.

"Yes."

"And now I'm stuck here until Zuko finishes saving another world on some one else's behalf." Yue froze, she knew that saccharine tone, Katara used it on Sokka right before she made him incriminate himself. The Moon Spirit let out an 'Uh-huh.'

"Yue, what exactly, am I supposed to do in the Spirit World for several years, what are my brother and Aang and Toph and Suki going to think, when they get to the palace and find our spiritless bodies!?" The sweet tone dropped, but Katara managed to refrain from full on shouting.

"Oh no! They won't – sorry – for you and Zuko, time is... disconnected. You're in between heartbeats, you'll both be returned to the instant you left, once this is all over. As far as the Spirit World is concerned, the human world is frozen in time."

Katara stared at her friend for a long time, before dropping her face into her hands and growling in frustration. She stayed like that for so long, Yue was about to ask her if she was alright, startling when Katara straightened just as the older girl reached for her.

"Alright!" Yue bit down a yelp, such a thing would be undignified for the Moon Spirit. Katara gave her a curious look but shook her head and continued. "So that's one problem that's not a problem, but what am I supposed to do, am I even allowed to be here," she gestured vaguely to the room.

"Here in the Spirit World? Or here in the Palace of the Moon?"

"Both, either," Katara said, uncertain herself what she meant.

"Well, you're not the first Non-Avatar human to come to the Spirit World, and given the circumstances, I'm sure it's fine. As for this Palace, it's my domain, I'm the single highest authority on who gets to be here, and I say you're allowed."

Katara's next query was interrupted by a knock on the door. Yue bid entrance, and the Painted Lady slipped through the doors.

"I've just returned from the Palace of the Sun, Agni sends his apologies for the inconvenience, and an invitation to join him for tea."

"Don't do it," Yue interrupted in a stage whisper, "Agni's just fond of pretty girls." The Painted Lady snorted, it was an open secret in the Spirit World, the King of Spirits was fond of 'pretty girls,' often waxing poetic about them, but it was also known he would never pursue any who turned him down. Agni just liked to flirt.

"Agni also extends his warmest welcome to you, while you wait for Zuko to finish his Quest."

Katara's smile, which had only returned at Yue's jibe at the Sun Spirit, faded in visible increments.

"How's he doing, Zuko I mean, does anyone know?" The two Spirits shared a look, unsure how to answer. "Because I have some concerns, seriously, Zuko does not always make the best life choices, and he's not so good with... people."

Her worry was evident. The friendship Zuko and Katara shared was a complicated and scuffed thing, singed around the edges, but strong.

"Agni's keeping an eye on Zuko's progress, with the help of one of the Spirit's from the world that's borrowing him, but everyone else is sort of... not worried about it. Agni will keep you updated I'm sure." The Painted Lady laid a hand on Katara's shoulder, as she comforted the young girl. Her free hand making rapid shapes out of the Water Bender's line of sight.

Yue looked solemn as she read the other Spirit's signed message, her mind working furiously when something occurred to her. She failed to stifle a gasp as the idea struck her, the duo across the table looked at her with confused alarm.

"Yue, what is it?"

"The Lake of Mirrors." The Painted Lady stiffened at Yue's suggestion.

"My Lady Yue, no."

"Why not?" Yue demanded.

"You know why not."

"What's the Lake of Mirrors?" Katara cut in before the Spirits' conversation could devolve into petty bickering.

The Spirit women looked at each other, making gestures and mouthing half formed words. She wasn't sure which of them won the 'argument,' but Yue turned to her and explained.

"The Lake of Mirrors is one of the Ancient Landmarks of the Spirit World. While a human's spirit may enter the Spirit World, and wander through parts of it, there are areas where no human may go. The Ancient Landmarks are even more forbidden than that, for example only Water or Moon aligned Spirits may go to the Lake."

"So what does this Lake have to do with me?"

The Painted Lady took over the explanation.

"The Lake of Mirrors is a place from which anything can be found, Water and Moon aligned Spirits may use it to scry across vast distances, or to watch over their followers when they are not able to enter the Human World. Such is the power of the Lake, that you might be able to see into another world, if you had something or someone to focus on."

"So one of you can visit this Lake and tell me how Zuko's doing!" Katara started to grin.

Yue let out a nervous little laugh. The Painted Lady narrowed her eyes at the Moon Spirit.

"Yue, No!"

Chapter Text

"Are you alright?" Zuko glanced at Hermione for the briefest second, and when he turned back to the lake, Katara's ghostly image was gone.

"Yes, sorry, I thought I saw something in the water," he replied.

"What did you see, was it the giant squid? I read about it in 'Hogwarts: a History.'" Hermione said, sounding far too enthusiastic about the idea of a giant squid.

Zuko gave a non-committal shrug. Further conversation was waylaid as they sailed through an ivy curtain, and into a hidden tunnel in the cliff face. Despite Hagrid's guiding lantern, the journey was dark until they reached an underground harbour.

The new students clambered onto the pebbled shore, and up the carved stone steps to a huge oak door. Hagrid raised his fist to it and knocked three times, the door swung open with ease to reveal a stern-faced woman.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Professor McGonagall led them into the entrance hall, then into another chamber, small and empty to the side of a door that muffled the voices of what must have been the rest of the student body.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, the start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony -" The woman went on to explain the Sorting Ceremony, the nobility of each of the houses, and the rules of the House Cup.

Zuko listened with one ear, his mind drifting back to Katara's face in the lake. Was it some sort of trick? An enchantment on the lake? He thought Hermione might know, from the book she'd mentioned. Zuko resolved to ask her about it when he had a chance.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you, please wait quietly." She left the chamber, and Zuko turned to ask if anyone knew exactly what the ceremony involved, when a blond boy called across the children.

"So it's true then, what they're saying on the train? Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." The group began to whisper amongst itself, eyes drew to Zuko.

"Yes, I have. Though to be honest, I'm not sure why everyone is making a fuss over it." That seemed to confuse people. The blond boy, whom Zuko suspected was the 'prat' Ron mentioned on the train, opened his mouth to speak, when one of the girls began screaming. Soon joined by several other first years.

Zuko came to attention as several pearl coloured spirits floated through the back of the room. They seemed to be arguing over something, until one of them broke of mid-sentence with a 'I say, what are you all doing here?'

The prince wasn't sure how to deal with these spirits, he barely knew how to deal with the spirits of his own world. No one said anything for a long moment. Then one of the spirits came to a realisation.

"New students! About to be sorted, I suppose?" The rotund spirit inquired, though no one was inclined to answer. It didn't seem to faze him though. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know."

"Move along now," the sharp voice of McGonagall interrupted as she returned, "the Sorting Ceremony is a bout to begin." She had the students form a line and follow her into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was large, but not the largest hall Zuko had ever seen. The rest of the student body were divided across four long tables littered with golden plates. The teaching staff shared another long table at the head of the hall.

The floating candles which lit everything drew Zuko's eyes upwards, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw not a ceiling, but the night sky. He must not have been the only one to falter at the sight, because he heard Hermione whispering that the ceiling was there, it was just enchanted to show the sky above the castle. She'd read about it in Hogwarts: A History.

'Alright, I'll admit it: Magic is a little bit impressive.'

Hagrid watched from his place at the head table, as the first year students trailed in. The half giant managed to pick out Harry from amongst the youngsters with no problem.

He'd meant to catch Harry's eye, and give him a 'good luck/you'll do fine' sort of smile and gesture, but the young boy's eyes were roaming over the hall not settling on anything for too long until McGonagall brought out the Hat, and it started singing.

Harry's face went from alarm to curiosity to caution.

As the students were called up one by one, Hagrid noticed a growing look of horror – terror? – on Harry's face. When at last his name was called – and the hall broke into whispers over that – he seemed reluctant to sit under the Hat.

Hagrid thought Harry might try to make a run for it from the hall, but he set his shoulders and allowed the Hat to be placed on his head. While they all waited for Harry's placement, the half giant wondered what it was about the Hat, that made him so uneasy.

The minutes seemed to stretch.

The Sorting Hat called out its decision, and the reaction was instantaneous.

The hall erupted into shouting and screams of jubilation along with polite applause, Harry all but ripped the Hat off his head, and set it down on the stool with far more force than necessary. Hagrid thought he was about to enact violence on the ancient artefact for a moment.

Harry looked up at the main table and his eyes met Hagrid's. Hagrid grinned and mouthed congratulations, Harry smiled back – it looked forced, pained – and headed to his new table.

Harry looked a little green as he slid into a seat across from Neville.

"Are you alright Harry?" the boy looked up.

"Uh, yes, I'm just... people I don't know keep touching me. They weren't this touchy with everyone else." Neville thought he saw a dark cloud gathering over Harry's head.

"Well you are famous," the two boys startled as Hermione interrupted.

"So I keep hearing; something about my parents being murdered?"

Neville and Hermione shared an alarmed look as Harry added, under his breath: "Weird obsession about my scar remains unexplained."

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, when Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, and the table once again cheered loudly.

A moment later the red head was plopping himself down into the empty seat next to Harry, slinging his arm around the boy, who looked suddenly murderous. (Physical contact threshold clearly reached.) Neville looked concerned, Hermione narrowed her eyes. She promised herself she'd never use her power for evil, but Ron was completely ignoring Harry's very apparent distress, so Hermione took a deep breath, leaned around Harry while making sure to give him enough space, and started to babble.

"So Ronald, it was Ronald wasn't it, what do you think about the classes, I'm rather excited about transfiguration, the transmutation of the basic properties of the molecules is sure to be a fascinating subject-"

Ron stopped dead in the middle of his sentence, his eyes glazed over and he started moving away from Hermione, which meant he was moving away from Harry, who was leaning subtly closer to her, and the red head's arm dropped from the other boy's shoulders.

Ron looked around for help, but he didn't need it as Hermione cut herself off when the Headmaster stood.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down as the majority of students began to clap and cheer.

The first years looked confused, Harry in particular looked rather stupefied as he let out a quiet 'huh.'

It was official, Zuko owed his Uncle another apology, and would never question Iroh's sanity again. Clearly his Uncle was the peak of mental health – especially if compared with Dumbledore – Zuko just hadn't understood, because he hadn't met that many old men. Or the truly senile at least.

The prince was drawn from his shocked mental ramble by Hermione offering him some potatoes. Which caused him to startle, when had the food appeared on the tables?

The brief hubbub of chatter settled down to the sounds of eating as Zuko finished loading food onto his plate. Now at last it was time to face his new foe: British eating utensils. Zuko missed chopsticks, he really did.

Frustrated he picked up the knife and fork, he wasn't even sure if he was holding them properly; apparently wielding the utensils was something the spirits thought was common sense/knowledge, and hadn't given him a mental 'how to.' While he knew how to wield a knife, the fork as an eating tool was something else entirely; having not eaten with the Dursley family, outside that night in the shack on the rock, Zuko had no one to mimic.

He tried to peer around surreptitiously, but everyone was moving their hands, so he couldn't get a good look.

A quiet clearing of the throat came from beside him.

Hermione didn't seem to be watching him, but she was holding her arms still, hands by her plate while she chewed a mouthful; the fingers of her right hand flicked in place, as if she was readjusting her grip on her knife, then her left hand did the same on her fork.

With almost exaggerated care, she cut off another piece of potato and steak, and popped them in her mouth, she lowered her hands and wiggled her fingers again, her eyes sliding to Zuko.

Surreptitiously Zuko mimicked her hold, and tried eating his food.

'Wow, that really is a lot easier. That's two I owe her, I don't think thank you notes are going to be acceptable for this.' It wasn't until the meal was finishing and Hermione was again stealthily teaching him about cutlery, that he realised he should be concerned with how observant of him Hermione had been.

As the food on the table was replaced with desserts, the chatter around the first years turned to families. Zuko listened with one ear as he sampled several after dinner foods.

Then Neville started talking about his family, specifically his uncle Algie.

Zuko thought about telling Neville his uncle Algie had actually been trying to kill him, but the mere mention of his toad possibly hopping off the train had put the boy in tears so Zuko kept his opinion quiet. (Quietly, memories of insisting his father loved him played through his mind.)

"Horrid," Hermione whispered to herself behind a bite of fruit tart. Zuko leaned subtly closer, hid his mouth behind a slice of 'caramel' tart, and pretended to eye it as he whispered.

"So it's not just my bias, it really does sound like the old magical families would rather kill their children than let them live without magic."

"Don't you dare say that to Neville," Hermione hissed back.

"I did learn from the thing with the toad, don't worry," Zuko said, keeping his voice soft.

"Are you going to eat that tart or not?"

"I tried a bite, whatever caramel is made from is disgusting, it's sickly sweet and heavy and tastes weird." Zuko put it down on his plate with a disgusted look.

"Sugar for the most part, that's 'wet' caramel so there's also butter and heavy cream, but primarily it's sugar." Hermione raised and eyebrow at his startled expression. Zuko couldn't fathom it; sugar, especially the refined sugar that would have been used in the 'caramel', was a very limited resource in his home world, to make the tart he'd taken a slice from looked like it would take his ship's monthly ration.

And Zuko could see similar dishes all up and down the table. How much sugar did this world produce? Did it only seem like an impossible amount because there was no war rationing here?

"Oh calm down, you're not likely to go into diabetic shock from one bite... you're not diabetic are you?"

Zuko had no idea what a diabetic was, but if the spirits hadn't given him the information, he figured it wasn't relevant to him, so he shook his head.

Hermione went back to her fruit tart, and started up a conversation with the older student beside her on classes. Zuko forewent dessert in favour of looking around the hall, his gaze ended up on the teachers' table.

One of the teacher's was a man with a hook-nose, he was staring rather intently at Zuko, despite the fact he seemed to be engaged in a conversation with another teacher. Zuko let his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion as he met the man's gaze.

Even from where he sat, Zuko caught the sneer the man sent his way before leaning back in his chair, and returning his full attention to his co-worker. Said co-worker had to twist further in their chair to remain facing the hook-nosed man.

Zuko noted the co-worker was wearing a turban before a sharp pain lanced through his forehead, he flinched away from the pain. He must have made a noise, because Hermione was suddenly facing him, one hand hovering near his arm.

"Harry?" He waved her off.

"I'm fine, just a headache, it's been a long day."

The last of the desserts disappeared and the headmaster stood, the hall falling into silence. Zuko felt pressure in the air that made him think the fall of silence had not been completely natural.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Any one interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone that does not wish to die a very painful death."

Zuko heard a few people laughing throughout the hall; a sensation of 'Important Information' hit him.

'Oh, the corridor of death is important(?) No shit(!) Never would have guessed, thanks for the heads up Spirits(!)... Uh... sorry, that was really disrespectful... and I forgot you can probably hear me now...' Zuko tried to suppress his wince.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Zuko suppressed a heavy sigh at Dumbledore's words.

'A school song, really?' Before he had time to wonder how they were supposed to know the words though, the headmaster waved his wand, sparks slithering out and twisted into words in the air.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

Zuko had just enough warning to plug his ears before the hall broke into a cacophony of noise. Several long, long moments later the noise faded and Zuko was able to put his hands down without the risk of his ears bleeding. As someone who'd been trained in music, he was offended and sickened by the idea that anyone might consider such a display to be actual music.

As the twins from the train – Fred and George – finished their sombre rendition of the school song, the headmaster conducted with his wand. When they too fell silent, he wiped his eyes and clapped enthusiastically.

"Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Zuko froze in horror.

'That's it, the old guy has to go.'

"Harry," Hermione called his attention back to the student body, "come along, Percy's going to show us to our dormitories."

"Right," he slid out of the chair and followed. They were led up a marble staircase by the great hall, Zuko tried not to react when he noticed the paintings on the wall were moving. He put more focus into mapping the route in dimensions rather than land marks, if pictures moved about, what else wasn't as stationary as it should be?

Their trip was disrupted once by a poltergeist, an entity similar to a Worry Spirit from his home world, but the Prefect Percy managed to make it leave.

Their sojourn ended at a painting of a woman in a pink dress.

"Password?" Zuko tried not to choke on his inhale as she spoke.

"Caput Draconis." Percy's answer was clearly the correct one, as the painting swung open to reveal a hole in the wall, beyond which was a well lit room decorated in reds and golds.

Once inside, Percy sent the girls up one set of stairs, and led the boys up another to a room with five beds. The curtains from the bed canopies were deep-red velvet. Zuko located his trunk, and took out his sleep wear. The other boys seemed too tired to try talking, but Zuko took several minutes to write down some notes in his native language.

Alright, so it was the archaic version of the native language of the Fire Nation that Zuko had learned as a child, (and gave him the accent that occasionally made people think he had a slight lisp) but still, no one would be able to read it at first glance.

He nodded off sitting up, with his notebook and pencil still in his hands. He was still in the same position when he woke a few hours later in a cold sweat from a strange dream. He wrote down three words – Turbans are Evil – and put his book away, rolling over to get some proper sleep.

When he woke the next morning he couldn't remember writing it, or the dream that had made him write it, but he took note of it anyway in case the Spirits watching over him had (for once) managed to be helpful subtle.

Chapter Text

Zuko had known that sooner or later, his luck would run out; the whole mission thus far, had gone far too smoothly for anything else. (Not that he needed luck per se, it was just nice when things went his way for more than five seconds at a time.)

He just hadn't expected the small, ongoing events to start first thing the next day.

It started with snoring.

Zuko had woken early, as always, and settled himself to meditate; he preferred to meditate twice a day, unlike Aang who only meditated in the mornings. During his stay at the Dursleys' he'd managed at least once a day, even when he couldn't practice his bending forms, for fear of further damaging his already worn down body. (Which had been recovering with surprising speed.)

Of course, at number 4 Privet drive, he'd had a room to himself. (Or briefly, a cupboard.)

In the dorm rooms, he'd been interrupted by snoring, snorting and random sleep-talk. Every time he'd almost settled to his task, another noise would jerk him back to full, active awareness.

Every. Time.

He'd tried the bathrooms, but several of the older students were already getting ready for the day, and he wasn't even going to bother with the common room, for obvious reasons.

Zuko had postponed his meditation, just until the evening, in favour of preparing for breakfast.

Evening meditation didn't happen.

Tracking down the classes he was required to attend should have been easy. Unfortunately for Zuko, wizards were incapable of giving decent directions.

Hermione seemed to be having a better time of locating classes than him, so he stuck with her as much as he could; of course sticking with Hermione meant sticking to Neville, whom she'd taken under her wing, which wasn't so bad... but Ron seemed to think sharing sandwiches in a train car made them 'blood brothers for life,' or some such thing.

Ron followed Zuko almost everywhere he went, making noise. Always making noise.

Zuko's dream time revelation that 'Turbans are Evil' made more and more sense. Every time he stepped into Defence Against the Dark Arts: he got a hideous headache. Every time he was near Quirrel: he got a headache.

Whenever these two events coincided: Zuko wanted to cut off his own head, to spare himself the pain. (part of him thought of the early days of his exile, and called 'whimp', another part was already plotting vengeance.)

Friday though, Friday was the day Zuko's temper at last gave way under the weight of all the things-gone-wrong.

Oh it started off looking better, Hagrid invited him to afternoon tea.

It was down hill from there.

Snape was an arsehole, Zuko could tell the moment he swirled into the classroom, cape billowing melodramatically.

Then he'd started going on about 'Potter's celebrity,' and asking questions Zuko had no real answer to.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't recall any potion with both of those from the book, but I'm fairly certain they're both sedatives... not an anaesthetic – some kind of sleep potion?"

"Where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar stone"

"Top right hand compartment of any standard potions kit, as a cure all antidote its inclusion in potions kits is mandatory."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"...may I confer with my colleague?" Zuko had officially lost the ability to give a shit.

"Clearly fame isn't everything," Snape's sneering gaze turned to the young witch beside Zuko, waiting with her hand up, clearly ready with an answer. "Sit down you insipid girl."

Zuko moved – as much as he could – to shield Hermione from Snape. The teacher sneered even more, but thankfully made no move to strike either student.

Regardless, Snape had just beat out everyone else on his shit list for the number one spot.

And Snape just kept getting worse.

"You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost Gryffindor."

Zuko was 'content' to sit there and stew with rage, but Ron apparently thought otherwise, because he kicked Zuko under the table, and told him not to push it.

He was really, really sick of Ron constantly taking liberties with Zuko's personal space.

After the potions class ended, Zuko lagged behind the other students, the first open garden they passed, he handed off his bag and stormed into the area. He knew it was a bad idea to let himself get so riled up, but he couldn't help it. Everything was like ants under his skin.

"ARHG!" Angry flames leapt from his mouth as he punched a stone seat. The stone gave way beneath his rage. Of course, Zuko had forgotten this body was weaker, younger than his own, neither honed nor hardened as his own was.

"I've heard the phrase 'so mad he was spitting fire,' but that was ridicu- Oh my god Harry your hand!"

Zuko looked down, frown deepening. With a mild grunt, he sat on the rubble of the seat, and placed his hand on his knee.

Grabbing one of his fingers with his undamaged hand, he fixed his gaze on the far wall, and yanked the dislocated digit back into place. Then he fixed the other one.

"Harry?" Hermione had gotten a lot closer while he'd fixed the fingers; she stood holding a bottle of water and a small bag, eyeing him nervously.

"May I take you to the medical wing?"

Ah, that tone of voice, Zuko knew it well: 'I want to help you, but I'm a little bit scared for my life.'

"It's fine," his voice wasn't thick with pain, but it was still heavy with rage. A single angry punch hadn't excised the week's anger from him.

"Will you at least let me rinse the blood, and wrap your hand?"

Zuko said nothing as he held out his hand for the bottle; Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but she opened the bottle and handed it over anyway.

The highlight of the week came while he was at Hagrid's for tea. Between the tea and the inedible foodstuffs, Zuko looked through the newspaper cuttings on Hagrid's table. One article in particular called to him, a feeling of 'You should pay attention to this because it's important,' swept through him. So Zuko paid attention, because it was important.

The article covered a break in at Gringotts, an attempted theft from an empty vault. Zuko recognised the vault number, he'd been eaten by that door.

The clue meant forward motion in his mission goals, though it was minuscule at best. Still, he was closer to figuring out what he was supposed to be doing.
This success did nothing to ease the building aggravation in Zuko.

The first Friday evening of term - shortly before dinner - would forever be known as 'That Time Harry Potter Epically Lost His Shit.'

Ron's cards exploded again, and Zuko didn't quite snap his quill, but it was a near thing, and he did smear a line through his assignment.

"RON! Would you leave!"

"What?" Ron looked up from his game.

"I have been in here working on my assignment for almost an hour, I was nearly finished and now I have to rewrite most of it because of your cards! I was here first, and I know you know that, because you greeted me when you came in! Surely you saw I was studying, so why would you create such a racket?" Zuko was standing now, and he didn't quite recall getting up from his chair.

"Oh come on Harry it's just a game," Ron huffed a laugh, mild discomfort in his expression.

"It's a distraction I don't need, and an hour I won't get back and have lost again, because of your damn explosions." His quill began to smoulder and smoke in his hand. (Heat against his face, cold water, he couldn't breathe, his ship, oh Spirits his ship.)

"I don't get why you're so worked up, it's first year, it's not like it matters that much," Ron looked at him like Zuko was the unreasonable one.

"... so that's how you choose to distinguish yourself?" Zuko's last spark of empathy for the boy was doused in an instant.

"What?" The other boys of the dorm looked confused.

"That's how you choose to distinguish yourself. You told me on the train you had a legacy to live up to, but even if you did, it wouldn't matter because they did it all first. This, then, must be how you choose to be different from your brothers, by being a disappointment. I'm not asking you any more. Get. Out. And take your fucking cards with you or I swear by Agni I WILL BURN THEM!"

Harry had gone missing.

Minerva was not worried per se, but she had heard there'd been an... altercation with one of the other first year boys. A deck of exploding snap cards had – allegedly – been burnt. Harry had stormed out of the dorm afterwards with his work, and not been seen since.

The fight had been on Friday evening.

It was now late Sunday.

Harry couldn't have left the school grounds, so he was likely fine. Minerva wasn't worried.

The boy would turn up. It wasn't like he was stupid enough to investigate the third floor corridor, or go into the Forbidden Forest, or...

Minerva sped up, her nose twitching as her paws padded along the halls of the school, seeking out the scent of her missing student. She cursed the elves who cleaned the school, she'd be lucky if there was any scent left to find.

She almost passed right by the doors entirely. In fact, she wasn't quite sure what made her take a second sniff at the slight gap where floor and door met. But there, coming from beyond the door was the unmistakable scent of Harry Potter. Minerva had never changed back from her feline form so fast.

Grabbing the handle she eased open the doors - which typically only opened twice a year - and descended the stone steps into the pebbled bay of the underground docks. There she found her missing boy, sprawled out in the bottom of one of the boats taking a nap, looking as comfortable and relaxed as you please. A strange array of pulsing flames floated in the air above him.

She let out a quiet huff and his eyes flew open, in less than a second he'd caught sight of her, and his face had turned an impressive shade of pale.

Chapter Text

Zuko pressed his hands flat against the shower wall, and dropped his head forward, enjoying the feel of hot water sliding down his back. He'd finished washing five minutes ago, now he was just procrastinating, trying to figure out what to tell the professor.

Through wet locks of hair he eyed his hands, both unbruised, unbroken and unblemished. Hermione hadn't talked him into seeing the school healer, his pain making a bad situation worse where his temper was concerned. But by the time McGonagall had found him in the docks beneath the school, his hand had healed.

He'd run, didn't even know where he was going. He just needed to be away.

He needed privacy, he needed quiet, he needed... he needed...

Zuko missed his room aboard The Wanyi, his meditation table, the subtle creaks of metal, the not so subtle sounds of the engine.

The ebb and flow of the ocean beneath him.

He'd found himself in the underground docks, not entirely sure how he'd gotten there.

He didn't care, he just clambered into one of the boats and stopped.

He was back on his ship, in the frame work of the cargo-hold's ceiling. His uncle was in his room, with a late night cup of tea, only the night crew was awake.

His hand twinged, and he grimaced, slipped his hand over the side of the small boat, and into the icy water to reduce the swelling.

He gasped.

In the water, he felt two hands take his, carefully, gently. He felt the soft brush of Katara's Chi as her hands removed the bandage.

The pain ebbed, and soon ceased altogether. The phantom hands beneath the water slipped from his, and disappeared.

Zuko pulled his hand from the water and stared; the torn and bruised skin of his hand was whole again, no sign of his outburst. He peered over the side of the boat, but no matter how long he waited, or how deep he looked, there was no sign of Katara.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Zuko suppressed a tiny jerk of motion, and scrambled out from the shower's spray. It seemed McGonagall had given him all the time he was going to get to clean up. He was glad she'd let him shower first though, two days without bathing had left him a little rank.

Now he just had to explain himself and his outburst.

The silence stretched between them for several long moments. Harry sat still and upright in his chair, posture rigid.

He wasn't looking at her, so much as a spot on the wall behind her. He was awaiting punishment, Minerva was still waiting for an explanation.

She broke first, her sigh had his eyes flickering to hers.

"Harry, I've heard from the other students what happened, would you like to tell me what you think happened."

She tried not to shudder at his look, the way he assessed her, as if determining 'friend or foe.'

'No,' she corrected herself, 'Ally or Foe.'

"No, I don't want to tell you what I think happened, I'd like to tell you what actually happened, but it's irrelevant. I reacted to a situation inappropriately, and I have no excuse."

'Oh Morgana, he's decided foe.'

"Alright then, tell me what happened."

"I lost my temper," his voice was flat, detached.

"Why?" She tried to be soft and understanding, hiding her natural sternness.

"I allowed myself to lose control."

'An interesting way to phrase it,' Minerva thought. "According to witnesses, you were provoked."

"That doesn't matter, I should have better control than that."

A sense of creeping dread made its way up Minerva's spine. She changed tracks and tried a different approach.

"I spoke with several other students, they claim that you've been getting increasingly aggressive as the week's gone on. Would you tell me why."

A flicker of something crossed his face, he squashed it almost immediately. Harry was silent for a moment, watching her, re-evaluating.

He let out a gusty sigh, his posture loosening, no, deflating, his shoulders sagging.

"It's not easy to realise your family is... different, from everyone else's, that your life and circumstances are different from others. I had a moment of awakening – a while ago now – where I looked back at my personal history, and I realised I didn't like what I saw. Changing perspectives isn't... it isn't easy," he said, his words coming out in stilting bursts, like he was trying to figure out how to explain himself as he went.

Harry fell quiet again but Minerva held her tongue, the boy wasn't finished.

"I was angry, very angry, for a very long time. I was angry at the world, I was angry at my family, the people around me, even myself. I figured out recently, how to be... not angry. I'm still working on happy, but I can do content most days... normally.

"See, when you're so angry for so long, the anger can... stain your spirit. It becomes a mark that doesn't wash off in one day. The anger is still inside me, and under normal circumstances I can stop it from growing, or at least keep it under control.

"This place, the people here, they make it difficult. I need time to myself, to get myself in order, to keep myself in order, and the people here won't leave me alone. There's always someone who wants something, or people making noise, and there's only so many places I'm really allowed to go - and apparently lighting candles 'all willy-nilly' is against the school rules."

"Lighting candles?" Minerva asked.

"I use them to meditate, they help me focus."

"Would that have anything to do with the flames I saw floating above you in the docks, the ones that grew and shrank with your breathing?" Minerva caught a faint tinge in the boys cheeks.

"Yes. I know magic is different for everyone else, they need wands and words, and so do I, unless its fire." Harry looked down, shrank in on himself. Minerva froze.

"Harry, do you ever... set things on fire on purpose, just to watch them burn? Or intentionally destroy things with the fire?"

He looked up confused.

"No, why would I? Fire is the light in the darkness, the light and warmth of the sun that helps the plants grow, the hearth which cooks the food, the passion in a person's soul. Sometimes, yes, it is the brush that sweeps the dead wood clean from a forest, but fire itself is not just destruction."

"You've never harmed anyone with your fire?"

"I have never caused anyone in this world harm with it... unless you count Ron's damned cards."

"You have a problem with Mr. Weasley's cards?"

"... I don't like explosions. He kept setting them off." As Harry spoke, his voice took on an almost hysterical lilt. "He wouldn't leave, he's everywhere I am, and I just wanted some quiet so I could finish my work, and he just wouldn't stop blowing them up."

Minerva frowned at the way Harry tensed. There was something he wasn't saying.

Unbidden a memory of Godric's Hollow flashed through her mind. The nursery wall and part of the roof had been blown out with immense force.

Minerva breathed in with sudden realisation; somewhere in the depths of Harry's mind was a memory of that night, a traumatic memory of death and fear capped by an explosion.

But what did she do with this knowledge, how did she help Harry? Could she even help him? Did she even have the right? He'd destroyed another student's property, though it had been in some form of self defence! What to do, whattodo?!

"Harry, you've already acknowledge that your response to the situation was... not the best, but I am also now aware that there were extenuating circumstances. You've clearly spent the weekend getting yourself back under control, but this isn't something we can do every week without severe issue. So tell me then Harry, what do you need to stop this from happening again?"

There was surprise in his eyes, and a sort of... triumph?

"I just need a private area that I can meditate in, somewhere I can light candles if I want and be alone, preferably with a desk for school work?" His list of requirements changed quickly into a question as if he wasn't sure what constituted pushing his luck.

"Anything else?"

"Maybe some chalk boards for... projects, and space to move around in so I don't feel trapped? A window would be nice. I like the sunlight." His voice was hopeful now, but worried, wary of overstepping reasonable requests.

"I'll see what I can do, in the mean time you'll be seeing me for detention every night for the next week as punishment for destroying Mr. Weasley's property." Minerva gave him her stern, over the rim of her glasses Look.

"Yes Professor, thank you for your concern and leniency in this matter." Harry bowed slightly in his chair, his hands pressing together in an odd symbol of some sort.

'Must be a muggle thing,' Minerva decided, though she knew it wasn't, pretending for the sake of the privacy he so clearly valued.

Zuko was allowed back to the dorms with a note from McGonagall concerning his week of detention. He felt a little bad about manipulating the woman like that, but it had worked in his favour, and it wasn't like she hadn't wanted to help.

All it had taken was the carefully presented truth, lying without lying; Zuko would never be Azula, but he could – when occasion called for it – play a scene. (The trip from the docks where his sunken ship lay, to the cold waters and icy walls of the North Pole, the vicious satisfaction of so easily fooling Zhao with a standard helmet, a fake accent and a false personality.)

McGonagall had suggested he go to dinner, which still had half an hour left, but he declined in favour of sleeping in a bed. He also still had a few sandwiches left from the Café and the stash of food from Wendy's cart.

And to be honest, while he could deal with stares and whispers, he wasn't in the mood to deal with several hundred people's worth all at once.

Finally into sleeping pants and a shirt, Zuko opened his trunk and rummaged through his food supplies. As his hand passed over the more sugary confections, he was struck with a sense of 'This chocolate frog. This one.' He plucked the frog packet from the pile and settled onto his bed, opening it with care; he'd been warned about the frog's first jump. It was no match for his prepared reflexes. He put the frogs head between his teeth, and bit down until it stopped moving. He left the chocolate hanging from his mouth, and turned his attention to the card.

The card was Albus Dumbledore.

"Headmaster of Hogwarts, Grindewald, dragon's blood, work with Nicholas Flamel-" Zuko dove for his trunk, pulling out the book on artefacts. He flicked through the pages he had marked, until he found the one he was looking for.

'Huh, so the package from the bank was the Philosopher's Stone. The package someone tried to steal... and is probably currently on the third floor. So what, am I supposed to protect it? Destroy it? What?'

Knock, knock.

The soft knock had him turning towards the dorm room door.

Hermione picked at her food, forcing down another mouthful. There had been a strange atmosphere within the Gryffindor house, since Harry had 'epically lost his shit' two nights prior. Having gotten the whole story from Neville, Hermione was ready to... to... well she wasn't sure what, but she doubted it would end well for Ronald Weasley.

The ginger haired menace took every opportunity to needle her about her looks and academic enjoyment whenever Harry wasn't nearby, so there was no sympathy from her when she'd heard his stupid exploding cards had been burnt.

She was, however, concerned by Harry's reaction to the cards – as related by Neville – and the fact that he had –again as described by Neville – set the cards on fire without even drawing his wand.

His wand, which was by all accounts, still on his desk in the dorm rooms.

Something about Harry Potter didn't sit right in her head, all the facts she had about him seemed to settle just off centre.

Hermione didn't like it when things didn't quantify right. For her, an erroneous fact was like an itch, she might take off several layers of skin, but she wouldn't stop until it settled; she had to reach the truth.

It was simply her nature.

When McGonagall arrived late to dinner, looking both pleased and worn out, Hermione realised Harry had been found. Gesturing and whispering quietly to Neville she packed a pair of napkins with food that wouldn't require cutlery, snagged two goblets, and a jug of the mixed fruit juice Harry seemed to like, and ducked out the small side door.

She walked as fast as she dared with the jug, but still made it to the dorms quickly enough. She climbed the stairs, and stopped in the door of the first year boys' dorm.

And bit back a laugh.

Harry stood with a chocolate frog hanging from his mouth, in his pyjamas with his hair more mussed than usual, while glaring at a book. Before she could break under the ridiculous sight, she tapped the door frame with her foot.

Harry looked up so fast she was surprised there weren't any whiplash sound effects.

"Harry, I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet," she hoisted the napkins and jugs just a little. Harry's eyes widened in understanding, he dropped a frog's card between the pages, and closed the book with a snap, shoving it into his neat trunk before closing its lid.

He took the frog from his mouth, and wiped at the smear of melted chocolate with a grimace.

"I haven't, thanks." Hermione replayed the last seconds over in her mind, something about the picture...

"Oh, professor McGonagall healed your hand then?" Harry looked confused, glanced at his hand then back to her.

"Uh... yes?"

"So no then."

Zuko frowned, "you are scary-observant, I'm not sure I like it."

Hermione shrugged and began placing her cargo onto the trunks lid.

"I like to think of myself as a Trixie Belden type." Harry went back to looking confused. "Girl detective... basically Nancy Drew before Nancy Drew existed..." Hermione could almost see the confusion building up around him. "Yes, I am scary-observant, especially when facts don't fit together. Now who healed your hand?"

"Uh... it healed by magic?" She gave him her most unimpressed look.

"Sure why not, just another of the things about you that don't make sense."

"Sorry," she wasn't sure if he was sorry. They passed into silence as they perched at the end of the bed, eating food from the napkins.

"I'm going to figure you out you know," Hermione told him minutes later. "I know you like your privacy, but when facts don't fit correctly I can't help myself, it's a compulsion. I have to know."

"And what happens when you know? When you figure me out?" Something in his tone sounded like a warning.

"I suppose it depends on what I figure out."

"What if it's something that's... really unbelievable."

"How unbelievable? Like witches and wizards and magic is real unbelievable? Or alien abduction unbelievable?" Hermione asked, watching for his reactions.

"... what about: divine beings speak to me because I have a destiny I need to fulfill but they skimp on the details?" Harry grimaced at his own words.

"Divine beings... speak to you? What do they say?"

"Not much to be honest, I get feelings mostly. All I know is there's a war coming, the starting volleys are already in the air, and I have to stop it somehow. I don't even know who I'm fighting." He shrugged, looking tired, worn.

"... you hear gods because you're the chosen one?"

"...It sounds really pretentious when you say it like that," Harry said, one corner of his mouth curling ever so slightly in amusement.

They lapsed into silence again.

"You could just be crazy," Hermione said, teasing.

"Pretty sure I'm not," Harry replied.

"... could be a side effect of surviving an un-survivable curse."

"I what now?" Harry sat up straight, turning to her with an intense curiosity.

"It's the reason you're famous," Hermione explained, "not because your parents died, but because the man that killed them couldn't kill you with The Death Curse. No one's ever survived it before, or since. Plus as a side effect of whatever made you survive, the wizard who cast it was destroyed. Like completely, no body."

Harry fixed her with a sharp look, "confirmation of death, there isn't any, who saw him die?"

"Just you, everyone else was either already dead or arrived later," Hermione said, trying to recall everything she'd read on the subject.

"So how does anyone know I survived The Death Curse?"

"Forensic spells, I was reading about them, one of the books I got for light reading – great forensic cases of the last twenty years – covers almost twenty high profile or intriguing crime files from 1970 to 1990, including Halloween 1981, the night your parents were killed.

"The Aurors – the magic police – arrived at the scene early November 1st after special wards in the ministry detected a magical explosion in Godric's Hollow. They used spells to scan magical residue, and there's one spell, but it takes thirteen people, to cast, it shows what happened like a silent film; you can't interact with but it takes a lot of power, and people, so it's only used on the most important occasions. That, combined with a sudden cessation of Death Eater activity, lead to the conclusion that 'He-who-must-not-be-named' was dead."

Harry looked pensive, something about the way he was holding himself.

"Are the divine beings talking to you now?" He winced. "Are they telling you the Dark Lord is alive?"

"No...?"

"That sounded like a question," Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she eyed him suspiciously.

"It's... 'The Dark Lord is dead' as a statement isn't wrong, but it is erroneous." Harry made a face of discomfort.

"How can it be erroneous if it's not wrong?" She asked, turning the statement over in her head.

"'The sky is blue' isn't a lie, but it's not always true or accurate," Harry said after a long moment of thought.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think about that.

She was beginning to rethink her attachment to Harry Potter.

Zuko had known Hermione's observations were going to come back to bite him; he'd just thought he'd have more time.

Giving her what he felt to be a safer version of the truth had been a gamble, but the Spirits who seemed to be invested in his completion of Harry's Destiny, had enforced the feeling that Hermione's loyalty could be trusted.

Zuko just hoped he'd actually earned it.

Chapter Text

Monday was awkward for everyone. Neville had taken a few moments to approach Zuko, to offer an apology – which Zuko deemed unnecessary, given Neville hadn't actually done anything wrong – and to check 'Harry' was feeling better.

With the exclusion of Hermione, the rest of Gryffindor house was keeping their distance.

The other three houses were likewise treating him with caution, though some members of Slytherin took the opportunity to... well Zuko wasn't sure what they thought they were doing, but if he'd had the mentality they seemed to think, it would have been an even worse idea than it already was.

"Oh no! Look out, here comes Potter!"

"Better hide your things, so he doesn't burn them!"

"Oh please, don't hurt me Potter!"

Zuko had contemplated 'ensuring accidents' for those students, but he'd made the mistake of asking Hermione about trick stairs around the school, rather than borrowing 'Hogwarts: a History' or taking the time to find and map them all himself.

"Homicide is illegal Harry," she'd said, and then fixed him with a disappointed stare. He'd gone to correct her assumption, but she followed up with: "Assault is also illegal. And rude. And a little bit tacky."

So he put that plan on the back burner, and focused on his school work.

Detentions with McGonagall were an excuse to meditate, or rather, for her to observe his meditations.

After making him write 'I will not burn other students' possessions' one hundred times. Zuko tried to think of it as handwriting practice, since he still wobbled on a few of his letters when using a quill.

All told the second week of term was progressing much better than the first.

Until Wednesday, when the students of Gryffindor found a notice on the common room notice board.

'Flying Lessons' were to begin on Thursday.

When Zuko had first seen the notice he'd merely sighed, and groused to the spirits that he was not an Air Nomad. By the time the lessons arrived he was ready to set everything related to 'flying' on fire.

Everywhere he'd turned people were talking about their adventures, Draco Malfoy in particular bragged about escaping muggle flying machines on a broom no less then eight times within Zuko's hearing.

Hermione, meanwhile, had developed a very minor tic under one eye, and took to muttering about aerodynamics and physics and gravity.

Neville merely proceeded to become paler the closer to lessons they got.

A brief break in the Flying Lesson craze came at breakfast on the Thursday. A post owl delivered a package for Neville. The parcel contained a glass orb, smaller than an eyeball and filled with white smoke.

"It's a Rememberall," Neville explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it like this and if the smoke turns red – oh..." The smoke within the glass ball had turned scarlet. "... you've forgotten something."

Neville's shoulders slumped.

"Alright, let's see if we can figure out what you've forgotten," Zuko said, and Neville looked at him hopefully. "We'll just go through a list of things you normally do, or should have done until we hit on something."

Hermione started off. She only got two suggestions in when Zuko's hand snapped out, catching Draco Malfoy by the wrist. The blond Slytherin squeaked and tried to withdraw his hand.

"You weren't planning on taking that without asking were you?" Zuko's voice held a hint of danger, Neville moved his Rememberall away from Draco's hand.

"I was just going to take a look," the blond sneered, still trying to get his wrist free.

"Perhaps you might look with your eyes, Mr Malfoy." Draco blanched, Zuko tried not to smirk, the newly arrived McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Yes professor."

Zuko would have been impressed with Malfoy's ability to make 'yes professor' sound like 'screw you,' but he knew several people who could have done it better. McGonagall's eyes narrowed, her lips pursed slightly, and Zuko let go of Draco's hand. Draco, having been pulling at the time, went stumbling for several steps.

The young Malfoy attempted to salvage the situation by stalking off, but mostly looked like someone with hip problems.

McGonagall turned a disapproving look on Zuko, who stared impassively back. Realising she wasn't going to win the stare-off the teacher sighed.

"Don't be late for class."

"Yes professor."

Standing on the school lawn with his year mates, Zuko wondered if he could leave without anyone noticing.

Zuko had nothing against flying, he could pilot a balloon quite well, and he got on very well with Appa. Aang had even shown him how to do some of the more adventurous manoeuvres the Sky Bison was capable of.

Both were very different from being expected to fly about on a stick. ('An actual broom!? What in the 'Lair is WRONG with these people?!')

Before Zuko could decide one way or the other in regards to skipping class, the instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey hair and golden eyes that would have looked at home in the Fire Nation. Or on a hawk.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!" The Gryffindor and Slytherin students moved to obey, lining up next to the brooms.

"Stick your right hand over the broom-" there was a shuffle of students as several moved to the correct side of the broom. "- and say 'Up!'"

The majority of the students shouted 'UP!' Some students said it with less conviction. Zuko recalculated his chances of escape. Only a few brooms immediately jumped into waiting hands, Hermione's rolled over in place while several brooms didn't move at all.

Zuko felt a trickle of awareness down his spine. He looked around to see Madam Hooch glaring at him, half disappointed, half expectant.

Under his breath he cursed, the teacher had noticed his lack of effort. He let out a huff and called 'Up!'

Having decided to give Hooch the effort she so clearly thought he was lacking, Zuko accidentally broke out his 'command voice.'

His broom Leapt upwards.

So did several of the nearest brooms.

The further brooms hopped in place as if startled, and the brooms already in the air tried to go higher.

Zuko cleared his throat, uncomfortable with all the attention suddenly directed his way.

Hooch prompted those whose brooms were still on the ground to get back to shouting. Once every one had a broom in hand she instructed them to mount.

"On my whistle, push off gently from the ground, hover for a moment and come back down. One..."

How were they supposed to hover, Zuko wanted to know, she hadn't exactly taught them how to control the broom.

"Two...thr-"

Nervous about being left behind Neville pushed off early, his broom ascended rapidly.

"Get back down here at once!" The instructor called out to the horrified boy, his broom making its way over the nearby section of castle.

'How is he supposed to 'get back here'?' Zuko was tempted to ask, his question waylaid as Neville's broom was shunted by a sudden gust of wind.

The boy slipped from the wooden shaft, and fell a short distance onto one of the roofs of the castle. Zuko glanced at the teacher waiting for her to do something to help Neville. He did a double take when he noticed not concern, but annoyance on the teacher's face. She made no move to draw a wand.

Neville's body slid and rolled and fell from the roof tiling. Hermione made a sound that was half a gasp and half a shriek, it was a very long way between the roof and the ground.

Neville's Robes caught on a torch sconce protruding from the wall, and Zuko was flooded with relief even as he calculated possible outcomes.

A ripping sound caught his ears, Zuko shoved through the other students, speeds and angles flying through his head. He'd done this before, he knew how, his body could handle it, he'd made sure.

Running full tilt at the wall, ignoring Madam Hooch's calls for him to stop – if she wanted him to stop she should have been doing something to save Neville – one foot hit the wall, then another; he was three metres up when Neville's robe gave way. The boy fell towards him rapidly.

One arm caught hold of Neville just as he was loosing momentum, a foot pushed off from the wall and Zuko changed a three meter straight drop into a slope, spinning to bleed off speed and prepare for the ground. Zuko's foot hit the ground first, just as he'd planned and he let the momentum carry him, adjusting his grip on Neville to insure the boy's head and neck were protected.

The duo tumbled for several metres before coming to a stop.

"Neville are you alright? Lay still," Zuko was on his knees with his palms resting on Neville's shoulder's to keep him still. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Neville answered right away but he seemed dazed.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Just my pride." Zuko gave the boy a tiny grin, then glared at the students who were threatening to gather around them. The students flinched at Zuko's glare and backed up.

"Can you track the tip of my finger with just your eyes... good. Wiggle your fingers? Aaaand your feet. Alright that's good, I'm going to help you sit up slowly, if you feel any pain: let me know at once. Alright?"

Neville nodded and gave a quiet 'yeah,' letting Zuko slide his arm under Neville's shoulders and helping him up.

"How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed," Neville's eyes flashed to Zuko's then away.

"Well, you're not dead, so I think we should call this adventure a success and ditch class for the medical wing. Sound good?"

"Yeah," Zuko helped Neville to his feet, Hermione appearing at the boy's other side to offer support.

"Madam Hooch, we'll be going to the Medic, to make sure Neville really is unharmed. And might I suggest the school sees about getting safer equipment for new students to train on, so no one ends up dead."

Hooch narrowed her eyes at him even as she gave permission, Zuko fought down a sneer at her attempts to intimidate him. His ex-girlfriend was way scarier.

"Bet you think you're real special, don't you Potter. Pulling that muggle crap." Zuko turned to acknowledge Draco in the entrance of the Grand Hall. "You would have been better off letting the Squib fall to his death."

"Have I done something specific, Draco, that's made you hate me?" Zuko asked.

The blond boy sneered in response, "neither you nor that lump are fit to be wizards."

"We are here because we met the requirements to be wizards."

Draco seemed to be getting increasingly upset that Zuko wasn't getting angry. The Fire Bender had just come from meditation with McGonagall, where the professor had informed him she'd found a few rooms that might suit his needs, and he'd be serving detention with her on Saturday as a cover for making the final choice on the room.

There really wasn't a lot that could be done right now to make Zuko loose his 'calm.'

"Unlike you, who probably had your dad buy your way in." Ron Weasley was one of them.

Zuko bit back a sigh as the young ginger haired boy appeared, 'Seriously, were they both just waiting for me?'

"At least my family could afford it, Weasley." The blond turned his attention back to Zuko. "Well then Potter, if you think you're a wizard, prove it. I challenge you to a Wizard's Duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a Wizard's Duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," Ron butted in again, "I'm his second, who's yours?" Zuko turned to Ron with a flat stare. What was the boy thinking?

Malfoy sized up his companions and decided on 'Crabbe.'

"Not that you'll win of course, but if you do," Draco pulled a Rememberall from his pocket, "I'll let you have this as a prize."

"Is that Neville's Rememberall?" Zuko asked, his middling ire grew in an instant, threatening to spew from his body in waves of fire.

"It's mine now," Draco said, smirking.

"We'll take you any time any place Malfoy." Zuko was torn between wanting to shut Ron up, and dragging Draco somewhere quiet and secluded place, where no one would here his dying screams.

"Midnight, tonight; in the trophy room." Draco started walking away.

"We'll be there," Ron called after him.

'No we won't,' Zuko mentally refuted Ron's statement, Draco and his friends already so far away he'd have to shout to be heard over the student bodies' noise.

"Don't worry, we can take him." Ron slung an arm over Zuko's shoulders and began dragging him to the Gryffindor table. "Since we're first years he'll probably only know enough magic to sends sparks at us."

Zuko wanted to know what was with all the 'we' and 'us' talk. Just hours ago Ron looked both terrified and pissed-off to be in the same room as him.

Then Zuko caught some of the whispers being directed his way. The story of how he'd saved Neville had gotten around, Zuko was no longer 'terrifying,' he was back to being 'awesome.'

"Ron, stop touching me."

The red-head scoffed at Zuko's request, and kept dragging him. Ron sat them down away from Hermione and Neville; every time Zuko tried to get up to leave, the red-head would put his hands on Zuko, and push him back down.

'If he doesn't stop talking with his mouthful, I'm going to murder him,' Zuko told the Spirits. A loud crashing noise sounded at the head of the hall. 'Thank you Spirits,' Zuko took the opportunity to slip under the table and scramble down its length, until he found an empty spot on the bench.

He slid up and onto the spare seat, surprising the older girls who were now to either side of him. He blanched at the looks on their faces, and made a shushing motion, the girls clapping their hand over their mouths. He sighed in relief. Zuko knew several noble women (other than Mai, Toph, Azula or his mother,) he knew that look, he'd just successfully averted 'the glee squeal.'

"Bread rolls?" One of the girls held out a bowl of steaming fresh loaves.

"Uh, thank you," and that almost set off another round of squealing.

Rather than return to the Gryffindor dorms after dinner, Zuko trailed a small group of Slytherins through the castle. All the way back to the Slytherin dorms; he hid in a wall niche as they gave the password – 'Heritage' – and entered.

With a smirk, he surreptitiously made his way back to his the Gryffindor tower, trying not to be seen by the innumerable paintings that lined the walls of the castle.

Ron didn't fall asleep like Zuko hoped, the red-head waited up, talking about how 'they' were going to beat Malfoy. He only quieted down when Seamus told him to 'shut up so we can sleep already!'

At eleven-thirty Ron trailed Zuko downstairs. Hermione was sitting on a lounge in a fluffy pink robe, an open book on her lap.

"I hope you boys aren't thinking about sneaking out after curfew." She punctuated her statement by snapping her book closed, and turning a piercing glare on them.

"You!" Ron said furiously, "go back to bed!"

Hermione ignored him, standing.

"Really Harry?" She tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her lobe a tug as she added, "Is this really well advised?"

He knew what she was asking: 'did the voices tell you to do it? (Because this is really stupid, and I can't figure out why you'd do it otherwise.)'

"I know what I'm doing Hermione, just go back to your book." Beside him Ron gave an ugly sneer.

'What is with these wizards and sneering?' Ron clapped Zuko on the shoulder and led the way to the door. Behind his back Zuko turned to Hermione and mouthed 'Two minutes, open the door,' gesturing to the entrance. Hermione frowned but nodded.

In the hall Zuko turned to Ron.

"I don't know where the Trophy Room is," (a lie,) "so you'll have to lead the way; you'll need to keep looking ahead, so we don't run into any trouble, I'll make sure it doesn't sneak up behind me. But you just worry about what's ahead, and stay quiet. I'm trusting you with this."

Ron nodded, determined, and took off for the trophy room. Zuko winced at the wizard's attempts at stealth-sneaking. With his limbs as far from each other as he could get them, he looked like someone had glued a prickle bush to his balls and underarms. His 'sneaky walk' was worse than Aang's.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the headache that was forming, trying to remind himself that Ron was just a child. Beside him the portrait swung open and Hermione stuck her head out. He ushered her back inside.

"So you're just going to let him wander around at night by himself." Hermione's frown was terrifying in its disapproval.

"He agreed to the duel, not me. And he wasn't going to sleep, you said yourself assault's illegal, rude and tacky, so I couldn't knock him out. He's just so... overbearing." She followed him up the stairs to his dorm room waiting for the full story.

"And what about...?" Hermione gestured to her ear. Harry gave her an amused look before he turned to open his trunk and began taking things out.

"There's... I don't know... like a waiting feeling, like expectation but it's... not pressing. Like an option? Maybe?" He moved to take his pyjama shirt off, paused and fixed Hermione with a look. She huffed as he made a circling 'turn around' gesture, but complied. She even covered her eyes with her hands. "I think there's something they want me to do, and the duel would be a good excuse, but it's already on my things-to-investigate list, so they're not pushing it."

"Sounds like you think you know what it is they want you to look at."

"... Third Floor Corridor." Hermione turned around, aghast. Harry finished tugging on a different shirt and gave her a 'what the hell, I was getting changed' face. She gave him an apologetic, and slightly guilty, wince/shrug combo in response. In the short time she'd been facing the other way he'd changed his pyjama bottoms too. She watched him put on socks, boots, a belt with pouches, a tube of stretch-cotton which he pulled over his head and down to cover his face (neck to nose) as a mask. He finished his look with a beanie, gloves and a hoodie before hoisting two coils of rope.

"Why do you even have rope?" She asked.

"Uh... to... tiiiiiie... girls I rescue from pirates to trees?" Harry winced his way through the explanation.

"... Gir- … never mind." Hermione decided then and there, she really didn't want to know. The coils of rope went on the deep window sill of the only opening window in the room, which Harry opened. He went back to his trunk for a third coil, closing the lid after himself.

This rope was tied to one of the thick bedposts, before being unceremoniously tossed out of the now open window.

"I should be back in less than an hour, if I'm not... 'remember me fondly, all the times we shared, for we will always have the meadows of summer and that night in-'"

"Are you quoting at me right now?" Putting aside the fact they'd shared no times in 'summer meadows,' she had never heard Harry talk in such a flowery manner.

"...nnnoooo?"

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes so hard she almost hurt herself, leaving Harry to his madness she made herself at home on his bed and went back to her book – The Two Towers.

"You know what, good luck with whatever madness you are getting yourself into, I officially wash my hands of you. I don't care."

"Oh, I'm rescuing Neville's Rememberall from Draco's clutches by breaking into the Slytherin dorms."

"The Rememberall you said Draco taunted as a prize for the duel? In the Trophy Room? Which is on right now?"

Harry Scoffed- "Please, like he's actually showing up to that." -and disappeared out the window.

Chapter Text

Zuko had chosen his outfit with care, with his body still far from his former level of physical capabilities, he needed every advantage he could get to pull off this sort of sustained acrobatics.

Where his Blue Spirit costume was somewhat theatrical – while still being somewhat practical – the outfit he wore now was comprised of varied shades of dark greys, and meant for practicality. Moving across the moon lit rooftops and shadowy halls of the school, Zuko felt more himself – and more centred – than he had since coming to this strange world.

Rather than a vague mission outline that comprised of mostly 'hurry up and wait,' he had a clear, immediate goal; a target well within sight, and a plan he could be done with before the night was through.

He sidled up to the blank stretch of damp wall, staying just outside the section that would soon be an open door.

"'Heritage,'" he glanced along the hallway, nothing stirred but the bricks in the wall as they slid open. Crouching down and twisting, he peeked around the door frame, far below any expected lines of sight.

The Common Room was empty, the hearth fire burning low. Zuko slipped inside as the door began to shut.

The room was long, with a low hanging ceiling, which in turn sported several green lamps. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made from rough hewn stone. The greenish light made him feel sick, it was a terrible colour to try and see through. (A cavern underground with crystal formations, a promise, a betrayal, a tender touch and a terrified scream.)

Zuko wondered how many Slytherins had terrible eyesight by the time they graduated because of the gloom. Or maybe this was a different luminescence than day time.

There were four archways leading away from the main common room. All Zuko had to do was figure out which one would lead him to Draco.

Two of the corridor openings were crossed off his list of options when he received very clear 'Don't Do It!' messages from the Spirits. Which was fine with Zuko, since he found Draco's room in one of the other corridors anyway.

The Slytherin students were paired two to a room, with a bathroom shared between two rooms. Zuko wondered at the difference in the set up as he searched Draco's room for the Rememberall. He found it under the boy's pillow.

As he crept back through the common room, a plush looking cushion caught Zuko's eye. It was really squishy looking.

'No, no, I'm not going to do it... it's ridiculous and petty, I'm not going to do it.' He reached the door, turned on his heel and-

'I'm gonna do it.'

Zuko rolled onto a section of roofing, dragging his prize behind him.

'I did not think this through.' He sat looking at his haul. 'I can't take these back to Gryffindor, people will notice... maybe I could hide them in my meditation room after McGonagall signs off on it... but where do I keep them until then. Not outside, there's too much risk – someone could see them as they fly past, plus there's exposure to the elements to consider. So I need somewhere inside where no one's going to go...'

Zuko looked around at the castle's many windows. One row in particular caught his eye.

'That'll work.'

The window swept open under Zuko's touch, he crawled inside quietly. Looking around the room for any signs of danger, and finding none, he dumped his bundle just inside the window, below line of sight for anyone passing by. (On broom, because he doubted too many other people climbed around on rooftops in the middle of the night. Or at any time really.)

The sensation of waiting the Spirits had settled on earlier, changed as soon as his feet hit the floor. Bowing to the their suggestions, Zuko walked across the room to the door.

The was a faint sound on the other side, but what ever it was, wasn't close, so he opened the door.

The corridor was lit with torches, just enough for him to see all the way to the far end of the corridor. A hulking beast lay near the corridor's exit. On it's posterior something moved, it looked like a snake in the dim light.

'~Intruder! Thief! Awaken!~' Zuko wasn't sure where the voice was coming from, it sounded strange and wrong in his ears, yet it was as clear as the English he heard from the mouths of everyone he'd met in this world.

Perhaps it was because it was clear in the exact same way, a language he understood without having learned, but not English.

The beast clambered to its feet, barking and growling, trying to turn in a space far too small for it. It managed to lope backward, towards him.

The serpent he had thought to be sleeping on its back, was in fact attached to its body, where the tail should have been. The barking was coming from not one, but three canine heads. Zuko closed and locked the door before the beast could reach him.

There had been something on the floor where the beast had been sleeping.

Leaping out the window, barely remembering to close it behind himself, Zuko scrambled along the wall to a window closer to the corridor's entrance.

This one opened as easily as the first, he spent mere seconds checking visually for traps before he was at the door. The noise of the beast was far enough away, that he could tell it was still molesting the door where he'd been just minutes ago.

He only opened the door as far as it needed to go for him to slip out into the corridor. A brief survey revealed the odd discolouration he'd noticed: a trap door.

Looking up to check the beast, Zuko made a split second decision. He darted for the trap door.

With a quick wrenching of the handle he opened it, there was only darkness below. Beneath his mask, he smirked. A sharp jab of his fist released flames into the room below, it was more light than heat, measured carefully to last a few seconds.

The darkness gave way, revealing vines that pulled away from the light of his fire.

The Barking stopped for an instant. Zuko looked up, and swore. The beast had noticed him. With a lunge Zuko threw the trap door closed, and dived back into the room he'd entered through. Locking the door behind him, he made it to the window just as the creature arrived at the door. The wood shook beneath its attempts to enter.

He slipped out the window, closed it, and high-tailed it back to his dorms.

Via the scenic route, just in case.

Hermione was asleep when he returned to the dorm rooms, her book dangling from one hand. Ron's bed was still empty.

Zuko changed back into his sleep wear, and stowed the coils of rope in his trunk, before shaking Hermione awake.

"Hermione, you need to get up."

"Mrph!"

Zuko snorted lightly.

"Do you want me to carry you back to your room?"

"C'n't, ench'nm'n's, you'll sed 'ff 'n 'larm."

Zuko translated her sleep slurred speech in his head. 'Can't, enchantments, you'll set off an alarm.'

'That must have been what the 'Don't Do It!' from the Spirits was all about. Wow, it is so nice to have Spirits on my side for once.'

"Wh're've you b'n? I's late."

"Uh... so I took a look at The Corridor. There was a giant dog. With three heads. Urgh; giant three-headed dogs, what, the legitimate ffffff-" Zuko swallowed the rest of his sentence. Hermione's intense (yet sleepy) glare reminding him that: continuing to swear like the sailor he was, in front of eleven year olds, was not a good idea. "Plus it had a snake for a tail. So that was weird... and there's a trap door with moving vines. So research to be done."

Zuko took out his note book, he needed to write this stuff down, before he convinced himself The Corridor was a dream.

"Come on Hermione, get up, I'd like to go to bed once I'm finished this... Hermione?" Zuko checked the young girl.

'Aaaaand she's asleep.' He jotted down his notes, stashed his book, and took some of the blankets and a pillow from his bed, trying not to jostle the sleeping girl too much. It wasn't like he'd never slept on the floor before.

The following morning Hogwarts was abuzz with gossip. A first year had been caught out of bed during the night and someone – many said Peeves – had stacked all the furniture in the Slytherin common room into an intricate puzzle and stolen all the cushions.

Hermione fixed Harry with a suspicious look, which he ignored. Neville was thrilled to have his Rememberall back, and didn't ask how the other boy had found it.

Ron approached the table with a foul look.

"What the hell mate?" It took Harry a moment to realise he was being addressed. Hermione wasn't sure if the moment was faked or not.

"Where were you?" Ron seemed to be preparing to go on a rant. Harry ducked his head, turned very red and made an embarrassed choked off noise. His reaction pulled Ron up short.

"Harry, mate?"

"I.. uh... ahem..." Harry glanced around. "I fell through one of the trick stairs, I called out for you but you didn't hear me. I didn't want to call any louder in case someone else heard me. By the time I got free you were gone. I waited for you to realise you'd left me behind and come back for me, but you didn't, so I went back to the tower. I figured you'd be back sooner or later."

Harry looked so contrite and apologetic. If Hermione hadn't known he was lying his arse off, she doubted she would have been able to tell. Ron seemed to be fooled.

"Sorry mate, I thought you were behind me the whole way. Malfoy didn't show up though, coward. He probably scarpered as soon as he saw Filch."

"Or he was tricking you and he never had any intention of showing up," Hermione suggested. Ron sneered at her.

"Whatever the case," Harry interrupted before Ron could say anything, "it's done, it's happened, and we have to get to classes soon."

That ended the discussion, and Ron settled himself down at the table for breakfast, several seats away. Hermione leaned close to Harry.

"Liar, Liar, pants on fire." He turned to her and raised his left eyebrow.

"I think I would know if my pants were on fire."

"You'd think."

Friday classes were almost as agonising as the week before, though far fewer stone seats lost their lives afterwards. Zuko wasn't sure if he was imagining it, or if Snape really had gotten worse. The teacher's malevolent attitude was accompanied by a strange feeling.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Zuko was reminded of the last conversation he'd had with Zhao before the older man had ordered Zuko's murder.

Snape was out for blood, and thought he knew something.

Harry's posture was anxious. Minerva hadn't seen him like that since the first week; she didn't want to interrupt him while he was meditating, but the fourth time he shuffled she realised he wasn't managing to meditate anyway.

"Is there something bothering you Harry?" He twitched, startled.

"Uh... why would you-" Minerva gave him a look over the rims of her glasses. "Professor Snape was acting... odd in class. Last time some one was acting like that around me... an authority figure tried to have me... expelled for something he couldn't prove I'd done."

"Did you do it?"

"I don't think it's relevant who did it, it certainly didn't matter to him."

'Not an answer,' she noted.

"You're aware of the... surprise the Slytherins found in their common rooms?" She caught sight of the corner of his mouth twitching up, as he nodded. "We were under the belief that Peeves must have done it. Until several hours ago, when the Headmaster informed the teaching staff, the paintings in the halls caught sight of a shadow in the halls.

"They claim it was a person, who knew the Slytherin password. It does help their claim, that Peeves was spotted around the same time, at the other end of the castle."

"So there's a 'shadow' creeping around the school. Could it be a student?" Harry looked concerned.

"If it is, it's probably just a prank; Severus is of course convinced it's a Gryffindor student." She wrinkled her nose, she tried to be impartial, but something about that man had always put her off. "He has no proof."

Harry's face had taken on a strange look, Minerva didn't like it.

"Harry?" He startled again. "Don't worry, even if Snape goes around accusing students, he can't expel them; and the board in charge of expulsion requires proof of crime."

"What if it's not a student?"

"Who else might it be?" He shrugged.

Ravenclaws were said to be the brightest of all the students. Zuko had nothing good to say about their situational awareness – but given his own earlier in the evening, and the fact theirs was working his favour – he chose not to actually comment on it.

Apparently a student heading to a Dorm wasn't enough for the paintings to comment on, unlike a moving shadow in the middle of the night, so Zuko felt it safe enough to follow some of the Ravenclaws back to their dorms.

Where he ran into a problem, though he almost didn't notice.

Sitting in his hiding space Zuko listened as the eighth Ravenclaw group of the evening gave their password.

Only it wasn't a password.

It was the answer to a riddle; a riddle that changed every single time. Zuko had no clue how to begin to answer the painting's bizarre queries.

Which left him with a quandary.

He'd come up with a plan to make it look like the prank played on Slytherin was part of a larger prank, rather than a deliberate attack. This plan required him to break into all three of the other houses, and stack the furniture and steal the cushions.

Zuko had scheduled Gryffindor after Ravenclaw but before Hufflepuff, but it was too late to follow Hufflepuffs back to their common room, and he had no hope of answering the riddles to enter Ravenclaw.

So did he go the easy route and hit Gryffindor, or did he find another way into Ravenclaw?

"I'm questioning your mental health," Hermione said flatly.

Harry threw an exasperated look at Hermione.

"But seriously Harry, getting Neville's Rememberall back is one thing, breaking into the other houses is a completely different thing. You are spitting on the rules, this is an utter breach of all school protocols." A frown pulled at Hermione's mouth.

"But you aren't actually going to stop me are you?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry Harry." Harry and Hermione turned to Neville, sitting up in his bed, his Rememberall clutched in one hand. "If I hadn't lost my Rememberall you wouldn't have had to break into Slytherin, in the first place."

"Actually, Neville, if Draco hadn't been an ass, I wouldn't have had to break into Slytherin. Don't even worry about it. This is me having fun, I could probably leave it as is, but I'm choosing not to. If I get caught it's on me."

Hermione flailed her book at him, as if she planned to hit him with it, but thought better at the last second. "I do have to object Harry, I've been brought up to show respect to the lines and laws of authority."

"So why not go to McGonagall about me?" Harry gave her a significant look. He didn't mean the cat-burglary. "I'm guessing, your personality and your brain set you apart from other children your age, you used to use the rules to protect yourself from them. Your only line of defence was authority figures who bothered to enforce the rules to your benefit."

Her hands clenched tight around 'The Return Of The King,' her lips pressing together.

"I understand loyalty to the past, Hermione. You can object if you feel you need to, just don't be asleep on my bed when I get back, my bed is much comfier than the floor. Night Neville." Harry leaned around her to wave to Neville, before slipping out the window into the late night.

Hermione stared at the empty window for several long minutes, her brain whirling.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Neville?"

"Are you alright?"

"I like to put puzzles together, to tease out fact and make sense of the world, but I'm not too fond of examining my own motives in life."

Neville looked confused.

"Sorry, I'm fine Neville, I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Good night, Hermione."

Unlike the Slytherin common room, the Gryffindor Furniture had not been stacked in a vaguely upside down pyramid shape. Oh no. The cushion stealing re-decorator had created a strange tiered mess with the main fire place as a centre piece.

In fact, the largest couch in the room now sat pride of place on the mantle, propped up by carefully placed chairs, which in turn held tables and implausibly balanced sofa chairs.

The teachers scanned the furniture, but found no trace of magic residue that could point to a culprit.

A few of the older Gryffindors had already taken a dozen photos of the mess.

"-If that damn Potter thinks he can shift the blame by wrecking his own house-"

"Now, Severus." Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling over the rims of his glasses, "the paintings have already reported a shadow moving about in the halls, coming into the school from outside and then leaving the same way. Who ever has done this was not in Gryffindor."

"And yet who ever did this knew both the passwords, the blasted fat lady-"

"The Pink Lady!" Minerva gave him a death glare.

"- That. Fat. Woman." Severus glared back, "can't even give a description of the 'shadow,' and she let him in!"

"Calm down Severus, give the poor woman a break, she was half asleep when she let him in; it's not as if there's been any harm done." Minerva gave Pomona a thankful smile for her input, the Herbology teacher nodded back.

"I agree," Filius piped up, "it's nothing more than a prank, there's no need for this expulsion you keep pressing for."

"It's not as if you even have any proof it was him." Minerva snapped. "Now if you'll all excuse me, since we don't seem do be doing anything constructive, I have a detention to oversee."

"It's fine Neville, I said some things Hermione wasn't ready to hear. She just needs to sort through them at her own pace. You don't have to make a decision between us, and neither of us want you to feel like a go-between. You just hang out with whomever you want to hang out with, alright?"

Neville nodded.

"Except for now," Harry gave a small, almost-smile to show he was joking, "go hang out with Hermione, I have detention."

"Alright," Neville gave a smile and walked off, no doubt to find Hermione. Harry turned to Minerva and nodded in greeting.

"Professor."

"Mr. Potter, have a falling out with Miss Granger?"

"Not exactly, it wasn't a fight so much as clearing the air, now we just have to work through our hurt feelings. She's a logical girl, but she still has emotions." Harry shook his head as if to free himself from the blanket of gloom that seemed to cling to his shoulders. "Ready for my last detention?"

"Hopefully last detention," Minerva gave him a meaningful look. Harry nodded once with a sheepish grin, and a gesture as if to say 'yes, that, that is what I meant.'

The rooms Minerva had short listed for Harry's use were spread across the school, he immediately dismissed any that were more than a quarter of the school away from Gryffindor Tower.

The second to last caught his attention, the older witch watched as he examined it, opening and closing the three windows. He almost gave her a heart attack when he leaned so far out of one she thought he'd fall. The room had exposed beams across the ceiling, a single wall mounted chalk board and was south east facing.

"This is the room," he took large steps across the length and breadth of the room. "Yeah, this is the one."

"Alright, but I will be checking in every now and again, this room is for your meditation and school work. I don't want you turning it into a student lounge for lazing about."

Harry gave her a look like she'd said something crazy. She backtracked mentally and remembered who she was talking to.

"Standard disclaimer," they both knew she was lying. She saw the corner of Harry's lip twitch up again

Deep inside her brain she performed a jig of success, she was making progress.

Come midnight Saturday, Zuko still hadn't finalised a plan for breaking into Ravenclaw. He'd spent part of Friday night locating the external walls of the common rooms. He planned to pick an entry window after his Hufflepuff heist.

"Be careful Harry."

"I will Neville, good night."

Getting into Hufflepuff was harder than Gryffindor, or even Slytherin had been. It was also much easier than Ravenclaw was proving to be.

At first Zuko had thought it was just as difficult, the door to Hufflepuff was a wall, like Slytherin, rather than a painting. Unlike Slytherin, the Hufflepuff wall was made of wood and covered in carvings. One section of the wall was a hexagonal panel, made up of smaller hexagons. At first Zuko had thought the pattern the students were inputting into the panel was random.

Then one of the first years had spelled the password to themselves out loud.

Of course that wasn't the only thing that made the job more difficult. It seemed like every teacher in the school was on patrol tonight.

Zuko waited for a gap in the patrol, and scampered down the hall to the door. On the Hexagonal display, letters appeared. Zuko dodged back, returned to the panel, and the letters faded and reappeared.

'Like I thought,' Zuko nodded to himself and input the letters- 'H-O-N-E-S-T-Y' - the letters on the panel moved position every time they appeared.

The panel rippled as the letters disappeared, and Zuko darted through the wall. Like the wall at platform 9 ¾, he passed through it like a heavy fog.

The first metre or so behind the wall was an alcove, when Zuko turned back to the wall, it was invisible, until he stepped into the main area of the common room.

'That's one way to stop people from running into each other.'

Then he got his first proper look at the common room.

'That... is a lot of couches.'

Sunday came with a flood of conspiracy theories from the students as to the culprits behind the Common Room Makeovers. Some were scorning the culprits – for there couldn't be only one person behind this could there? - while others, like the Weasley twins, were set to worship the ground they walked on.

"It's the second coming of the Marauders." George proclaimed over breakfast.

"The Who?" The twins stared at Zuko aghast, as if he'd just asked 'what is a tree?'

"The Marauders were the greatest pranksters to ever set foot inside these hallowed halls." Fred's voice was filled with reverence as he spoke.

"But this lot, who ever they are, they might stand a chance at the title," George added, waving a handful of photos in punctuation. The Hufflepuffs had taken photos of the common room, and some one had found a picture of the Slytherin's mess.

"What do you think they'll do to Ravenclaw?" One of the twins' friends asked. Every furniture display had been different, and the small group got into a lively discussion of the expected heist.

Zuko was more interested in the Marauders, and not just because the 'feel' of the Spirits had perked up in interest.

Zuko gazed through the window into the hall. He'd thought every teacher was on patrol last night? He'd been wrong. He could tell he was wrong by the sheer number of adults loitering, poorly concealed, in the shadows of the halls around the Ravenclaw dormitories.

It was a good thing for him he wasn't going in that way. Touching his mask over his mouth to check the leaf he'd placed there earlier, he ran, crouched, to the walls of Ravenclaw. His feet and fingers found easy purchase in the stone work.

He reached his goal window, and eased himself onto the outside sill. Inside the room was dark and nothing moved. Pulling a short, flat piece of metal from his boot Zuko teased the window open, and slid inside.

He made his way across the Ravenclaw common shower room to the door. He waited a moment, but there was no sound on the far side of the door so he eased it open and crept into the stairwell beyond. He walked down the stairs in a crouch, his body pressed to the inner wall so he could see lower down and around while limiting others' ability to see him.

He passed by dozens of doors, so many he was convinced every Ravenclaw student must have had their own room. When he got near to the common room he paused, the firelight from the sleepy hearth glowing faintly on the walls of the stairwell.

Shadows flickered the light, but this late at night the fire should have been steady embers. Zuko contorted his body, twisted and straightened so he lay head first and faced down on the stairs, using his hands he lowered himself down a step.

As he'd worried: the Ravenclaw prefects were waiting in the common room, one would occasionally get up and pace, causing the dim light to flicker. Waiting for just the right moment Zuko slid from the stairs and behind a lounge. From the lounge to a table, from the table to a chair, from the chair to behind the sofa the prefects waited on.

Settling down Zuko pulled a small bundle from his hoodie pocket, and with a touch of fire bending, set it to smouldering. Zuko scraped the leaf from the inside of his mask into his mouth, as the bundle began to release wisps of smoke. He fanned the bundle with one hand, holding it as high as he dare so the fumes would reach the prefects quickly.

The astringent taste of the leaf made his nose wrinkle in disgust, but it did its job, Zuko remained wide awake as the two other students dropped off to sleep. Zuko smothered the embers slowly eating the bundle with his chi, letting the fire die out.

It was truly surprising the things children could get their hands on in a school for teaching magic, but as long as it worked in his favour, Zuko wasn't about to complain.

"What are you two sighing about?" Zuko slid into an empty seat near the twins, reaching for the plate of toast and spreads.

"We're just... I don't want to say disappointed," Fred began.

"But we are a little disappointed." George admitted.

"Why?" Hermione asked from down and across the table. Neville also looked interested in the answer from his seat beside her.

"It's just... a let down..."

"We were expecting something a little more... more."

"More?" Hermione seemed offended, "The Makeover culprit used two students in their last 'masterpiece.'"

"Well, yeah... but.."

"It's an escalation sure but it didn't feel like..."

"Like a big finale?" Zuko offered.

"Yes, that's it, that's it exactly!"

Neville looked worried, Hermione gave him a stern look. 'Don't you dare!' she seemed to be trying to tell him telepathically. 'Don't you bloody DARE!'

Zuko dared.

"Harry stop!"

"Hermione-"

"No, this has gone far enough, it went far enough the first night. This stopped being... whatever this was to begin with, a very long time ago! This? Now? This is Ego, pure and simple." Hermione looked irate, if he was honest.

"Last one, I promise."

"It had better be," she gave him a dark glower.

For a moment Zuko was struck with a pang of longing, seeing Hermione so full of ire and ready to take him on... it was like dealing with Katara.

Zuko was glad, as he slid down the rope out of his window, that he was wearing a mask. Hermione might have taken his nostalgic look the wrong way, and actually tried to commit violence upon him.

Tuesday morning dawned, as many days had before, as many days would after.

This particular Tuesday however, was made remarkable by the state of the Great Hall. Students milled around the entrance, hungry for breakfast but more in awe of the strange display the tables and benches had been worked into, made even more amazing by the placement of the formerly missing house cushions.

The mysterious culprit had managed to – somehow, with cushions – create a picture of Hogwarts on the cliff overlooking the lake during a sunset, using the tables and benches as a canvas.

Something had changed between Harry and Hermione, they weren't the same. There was an uncomfortable tension now, where before had been a strange but fluid camaraderie.

Neville found himself drifting back and forth in the nebulous space between them. He kept waiting, for them to finish working out whatever it was that was keeping them from fixing their relationship, for them to tell him what was wrong, for anything really that would move the three of them from this strange place of no man's land and false civility.

But September turned to October, and October wore away. Nothing changed, they play acted at being friends. None of the trio was fooled.

Zuko woke on the last day of October in a cold sweat, anxiety and trepidation roiling through his gut.

There was a tremor in his bones and a sense from the Spirits.

Something was about to happen.

They just didn't tell him what.

The feeling didn't subside as he went to breakfast, the strange ornaments for this 'Halloween' festival littered the Great Hall. Pumpkins and bats and skeletons everywhere.

Hedwig arrived at his table with a package. He was sure he would have been thrilled by the arrival of his new tea set, or at least pleased to receive it, if he wasn't waiting for the world to end at any moment.

Classes couldn't keep his interest, he felt twitchy. On the way to Charms, Neville finally worked up the courage to ask if he was alright.

"I don't know. I don't know, I just... can you take notes for me I'm going to... be elsewhere." Neville nodded, unsure, and Zuko took off.

He sequestered himself in his meditation/homework/work out room, trying to find his centre, to calm himself.

It didn't work, the later the day got, the worse the feeling got. During dinner time, as he sat trying to meditate in his room he was filled with sudden knowing.

"Hermione!"

He fled the room, running blindly through the castle, letting the Spirits guide him. He stumbled as he hit a wall of stench, but kept going.

A scream rang out.

Zuko flung himself through a doorway, in time to see a giant monstrous creature slam a club into a shield of ice. The ice shattered, and sprayed in different directions, revealing two bodies sprawled across the floor. The shield had deflected the club just enough to prevent it hitting the two girls on the floor.

The monster raised its weapon.

The two girls looked up.

Zuko locked eyes with Katara just as she dissolved into water.

The monster roared and swung its club.

Chapter Text

It turned out, Yue's plan to get her into a Spirit Only area of the Spirit World, was to make Katara a sort of 'Half Spirit.' The Painted Lady, like Yue, had been born human, the Ascension Yue planned for Katara was similar, but wouldn't make her a Spirit in the same way The Painted Lady's or Yue's Ascensions had.

At least, not while Katara was still technically alive.

Minako, a friendly Spirit of Summertime Love, referred to it as a Spirit Apprenticeship.

The ritual itself was simple.

Katara was taken to a spring in the grounds of the Palace of the Moon, where she was given a vial to drink of red, glowing water – The Ocean at Sunset – and Yue laid her down, letting the waters of the spring close over her.

When she was pulled out, Katara was taken to a pagoda for the second step, which involved body paint, before being dressed, and receiving the Blessings of Yue.

The energy she felt flowing through her at all times, stronger on the full moon, was surging through her now, far more potent than any lunar phase.

After that, she was officially Spirit enough to visit the Lake of Mirrors.

Using the Connection she'd accidentally created between herself and Zuko, Katara was able to scry him in the other world.

It was strange, at first, to see both his normal appearance, and that of the body he now inhabited, overlapping one another. The physical body that was far too small to be healthy. She wanted to scoop him into her arms and heal him, and she tried, several times, but the veil between the worlds was too heavy, her powers too small.

So she simply watched.

Other Spirits would drift by and introduce themselves, occasionally pulling Katara away from the Lake while Zuko slept.

Then, a month and a week after Katara had fallen into the Spirit world, something changed.

Zuko had spent the day on a train, but the closer he got to his destination, the clearer she could see. The image Katara had managed to scry hadn't been clouded to begin with, but as Zuko drew nearer to Hogwarts, Katara realised things were becoming clearer, more real.

Like looking through glass that was barely dirty, you didn't even notice anything was wrong until it had been cleaned.

Zuko settled into a boat with three other children, and Katara found viewing from the water of the Lake on the other side, made the image clearer still, like she could reach through and touch him with no barrier.

She was about to try, when Zuko leaned over the side, and his eyes met hers. Both of them jerked back, startled.

He'd seen her, she was certain, but as his eyes darted over and around her, she realised whatever had allowed him to, was now gone. She was invisible to his sight again. She felt dizzy, but elated. He'd seen her.

As the days rolled on, Katara grew worried, and Zuko grew angry. Try as she might, she couldn't quite get through, couldn't make him see her, couldn't make him hear her. Couldn't give him the support he needed.

Until suddenly, she could.

Zuko had smashed a bench made of stone with one punch. She'd seen him perform similar feats in his own body without a scratch, but his borrowed form was tiny, not as prepared for such things.

The wayward prince found himself in the underground docks, and once again the Lake waters seemed to defuse the distance between them, his injured hand dropped into the water.

Katara didn't even think about it, she just reached. Took his hand in hers, and removed the bloody bandage, soothed the damaged flesh and bones. As she finished healing him she felt the waters thicken, the veil between worlds closing between them. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and let go, his fingers twitched and stretched, reaching for her.

He looked for her in the waters, she wished she could sweep the veil away and talk to him, but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten through in the first place.

Katara wondered if maybe she'd been allowed, rather than lucky.

Hermione was Katara's favourite.

She liked the way the younger girl dealt with Zuko, accepting his quirks, but not taking his crap. It had taken almost year, and a mission in the middle of the night, for Katara to get to where Hermione had in only a few days. From time to time, Katara would scry the people Zuko had met in that world, typically while he meditated or slept... or while he was in History class.

Hermione was one of the people she watched, and perhaps the most frequent, by happen-stance of being close to Zuko, but by no means the only one.

The Dursleys were boring and horrible, The Goblins were fascinating, but hard to see, Diagon Alley was always bustling, but it grew old fast.

The most fun to watch were the Siblings who ran the Hogwarts express. At least one of them was almost always away from their travel store, visiting an island with a pirate problem, at any given time.

Katara wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten involved in the fight, but their only real allies were Wendy's girlfriend, a princess of some sort, a mischievous forest Spirit with black and red hair and his tiny, glowing companion.

Katara was watching Hermione the third time the veil parted.

Hermione and Zuko had had words a month before, it had left them at odds with each other, but not not-friends. Katara had watched for a month of awkward interactions, filled with apology and not-quite-forgiveness.

The Water Bender wanted to reach through the veil, just so she could force them to sit down, and figure their mess out. Zuko's other companion, a nice boy named Neville, had ended up stuck in the middle, unsure what to do.

Day after day, Katara could see the jagged edges of argument rubbing away at Hermione's emotions, until finally, on the day Zuko seemed to have fire-ants under his skin, the annoying boy with orange hair said something to his classmates that sent Hermione running off.

Katara was angry on Hermione's behalf, the boy had done nothing but antagonise her since they'd met, plus he was always in Zuko's space, and ignoring requests to back off.

As the day marched idly on, Katara watched over Hermione, trying again – futilely – to send comfort to the other girl. She was watching as the young witch cried her eyes out, watched as she ran out of tears, watched as she tried to put herself back together.

And watched as a monster entered the room, and began smashing things.

Hermione turned to the beast, and froze in terror. The monster saw her, hefting its club as Hermione screamed.

"NO!" Katara pushed herself through the surface of the Lake of Mirrors, her only thought was to get Hermione out of the way. The veil parted, Katara slipped through.

Her arms wrapped around the terrified child, her momentum flinging them both to the floor. Katara managed to pull up a shield of ice from the water laying all around them, just in time to divert the creature's club.

The ice shield shattered under the onslaught, Katara felt a sharp tug in every part of her body. She looked up just in time to see Zuko, before she was pulled back through the veil.

Katara found herself falling through the mirror, down into the depths of the lake. Her entire body was filled with pain, and despite the lack of air around her, she screamed.

"And no one else has anything?" Yue asked fretfully.

Agni shook his head.

"It'll be fine," Yue tried to reassure herself, "we still have time."

"Less than you think." Both Spirits turned to the foreigner, the Spirit from the Other World. Before they could ask what she meant, the doors opened and the Painted Lady appeared, half carrying, half dragging Katara.

"Yue, help!"

"What happened?"

"I don't know, she was screaming, and drowning and I don't know."

Yue placed her hands on Katara's shivering form, a soft glow covering the younger girl.

"Yue?" Katara's eyes fluttered open, she looked around confused. "What's going on?"

"You're dying," the matter of fact delivery of the foreign Spirit's words earned her two scowls, a disapproving frown and an even more confused Katara. "Human Souls aren't meant to exist in this world while they are still alive, the very nature of this place strains the bond between body and spirit."

Katara pushed herself to a sitting position, focusing on the stranger as she continued to speak.

"Your body is frozen in time, it's not feeling the effects of the strain, which was slowing down the effects on your spirit. Your half-ascension was likewise lessening the strain, you should have had a few years before it reached this level. But you keep reaching into another world, which is draining the power that protects you. You fully manifested your spirit in a world twice removed from your physical form. You may as well have cut the string."

"What, but what about Zuko, he's in that world... is he..." Katara tried to understand,tried to separate her worry for Zuko from her worry for herself.

"Dying? No. You see his soul is being protected by his borrowed body. Your soul, is not."

There was a horrid moment as strange phrasing, and self censored sentences spoken over the months she'd been there, made sense for Katara; Yue and the Painted Lady had known she was dying, and they hadn't said anything to her.

"With out a body to protect a human soul, it begins to degrade. We can't return you to yours, because of your connection with Zuko's soul." The foreign Spirit knelt next to Katara, her features softening. "If I could send you to that world I would, but there are no ready made bodies available, and to create one from scratch would take immense power, too much to leave the Greater Balance intact."

Something tugged at Katara's memory. "What about a moment, just one moment of potential."

The Spirits looked at Katara in confusion.

"You have something in mind?" Something like hope seemed to flicker behind the foreign Spirit's eyes.

"There's a magic in that world that creates bodies all the time, but only under the right conditions, what if we made the conditions right?"

Chapter Text

A scream rang out.

Zuko flung himself through a doorway to see a giant monstrous creature slam a club into a shield of ice. The ice shattered and sprayed in different directions to reveal two bodies sprawled across the floor. The shield had deflected the club just enough to prevent it hitting the two girls on the floor.

The monster raised it's club.

The two girls looked up.

Zuko locked eyes with Katara just as she dissolved into water.

The monster roared and swung it's club.

Zuko kicked out with a yell, fire flinging from his foot to smash against the wall in front the monster. The beast startled backwards, its own attack aborted.

“Hey! You don't touch her, you deal with me!” It turned to Zuko, the confused look on its face made him wonder if it wasn't registering his words, so much as the noise. He hoped that was the case, stepping back as the beast lumbered towards him.

“Hermione,” he glanced at the girl, still lying shocked on the ground, water and melting ice soaking into her uniform. “HERMIONE!” That got her attention, “I'm going to lead this thing out of here, I need you to follow us out, and make a break for it when you can. Get a teach-urgh!” Zuko was forced to jump clear, the monster's club once again swinging. It wasn't very fast though, and Zuko was.

Zuko led the monster out and away from Hermione. There was a good twenty metre gap between them and the door when Hermione emerged. She slid along the wall, shaking as she went. Then the beast roared in frustration, Hermione screamed, and Zuko lost the creature's focus.

It spun towards Hermione, who froze against the wall as the monster loped towards her with a sudden burst of speed.

Zuko was still faster. He dashed ahead of the creature and directed a spinning fire kick at its head.

“HEY! WE AREN'T DONE HERE!” Zuko pestered his foe, managed to turn it around, away from Hermione.

“Hermione? Hermione I need you to focus for me alright?” The monster was no longer willing to trail after Zuko, he had to keep heckling it to stop it from going after Hermione again.

“Hermione, I don't know what this thing is-”

“Troll, Mountain...” Hermione's whisper caught his attention even as he dodged another swing of the club.

“Hermione, how do you fight a troll? How do you knock it out? How do you kill it?” She didn't answer, he had to swerve to avoid a stomp-kick. “Hermione! How do I stop a troll?”

“You... don't... I do.” Zuko managed to spare a second to glance at the young witch, she was squaring her shoulder with a determined look on her face. “The dawn take you; Lumos Solem!”

Hermione struck out with her wand, a beam of – what felt to Zuko like – intense sunlight filling the hallway.

The troll began to slow, its body turning a strange grey colour. Then it stopped entirely, petrified. Hermione's spell cut out and she dropped to the floor, shaking and sobbing. Zuko made his way over, kneeling beside her.

'Shit, what do I?' Zuko slowed his breathing, trying to centre himself, 'I'm no good at this part.'

“Hermione?" He tried to keep his voice soft and steady, like his Uncle did. "Thank you, you did well. Hermione, I need you to let go of your wand now, alright? I'm just going to help you put it down.” Zuko reached over, nice and slow, and with gentle motions he eased the wand from Hermione's white knuckled grip. Setting it on the floor next to her he moved a little closer, hands hovering over Hermione without touching.

“You did so well Hermione, it's over now, you're going to be alright.” She moved towards him and he wrapped her in a hug, trying to remember how his Uncle had dealt with Zuko after his first battle. (Eight dead, only one from his crew, a body with a boulder where a head used to be and creeping red on the stone.)

The sounds of footsteps caught his attention, they were fast paced. It didn't take long for the horde of teachers to round the corner, some freezing in horror at the sight of the stoned troll.

Harry's thumb swept back and forth on her arm in a comforting manner. Hermione glanced up, through still wet eyelashes, to see the boy staring at the ceiling from his place beside her. Her mind had gone on a short vacation after the adrenalin had worn off; now the shock was dissipating and her brain was coming back on line. Questions and queries were queueing up.

She sighed in her mind and smooshed her face back into Harry's chest.

Questioning him about the girl in the bathroom, how he'd known to come for her, and how he'd done that thing with the fire could all wait for later.

Hermione eyed the room with a sense of dark humour, it would have been normal humour but Hermione was still feeling the emotional crash of Halloween. It had been less than 24 hours ago, she felt therefore entitled to a dark mood.

Hugging an extra squishy cushion to her chest in a hug, she counted the eclectic mix of pillows littered around the room. She'd known there had been more cushions in Gryffindor tower than what had been returned. Harry broke her train of thoughts as he sat a small bowl-cup of tea in front of her. She gave it a sip.

And almost spat it back out. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, I'm not very good at making tea. Uncle tends to call it bracing, but he's kind like that.” Harry gave a small smile into his cup before taking a sip.

He grimaced.

“I really am bad at that.”

“You really are.” He shrugged in response and settled a smallish basket onto the table.

“Don't worry, I had nothing to do with the making of these.” He flipped the lid open to reveal a selection of biscuits, tiny cakes and a few bottles of coloured drinks. “I sent Hedwig for them a earlier this morning, not sure what's in it.”

“How can you not know what's in it?”

“I sent a message that said: My friend just had a near death experience and I heard food can be comforting at such times, please help. And some money to pay for it. Why is everything in here so brown?”

Hermione nibbled a biscuit.

“It's all chocolate... which makes sense, chocolate causes the brain to release happy chemicals. It's a great mood booster, the darker the chocolate the better. … so, you were explaining everything.”

Harry grimaced, and took a long, deep breath, he fixed her with a serious and intense expression.

“Right, so the first thing you should know is that I am, and am not, Harry James Potter.”

Harry's story was strange, bordering on bizarre with a only a short step before it became insane.

'He's basically an inter-dimensional traveller who's playing a Harry Potter RPG.' Hermione took a sip of a drink as she stared, dumbfounded, at Harry. She wasn't sure what flavour the drink was supposed to be, but it tasted very blue.

“So that night when I asked you not to go, were you being compelled to go was that part of your destiny?”

“No, you were right, that was sheer ego. There is a very large gap between my past and present abilities, I'm floundering with the magic thing. That prank was... stupid, but I wanted to... prove myself, I guess, to myself.”

“For the record,” Hermione said after a long moment, and Harry Zuko raised an eyebrow in question, “I had plenty of friends in my youth. They were just all fictional. My brain works a little different to other people, I'd say more efficient, but I'm not sure if that would be accurate. I was the youngest in my classes by a few years, I do understand the need to prove yourself, to yourself if no one else. It can be the last piece of solid ground to make your stand, it can be all the difference.”

The duo shared a smile that was weighted down by past hurts. Something metaphysical gave an almost audible click, as their relationship at last snapped back into place.

“Is that a conspiracy wall by the way?”

The November weather got cold, very cold. On top of the chilled atmosphere, Snape had become even meaner. Zuko proposed it was due to the professor's new limp.

“He didn't have it on Halloween, but he did on November first.”

“So it happened Halloween night, where was he while the troll was invading.”

“Snape was in the Hall when Quirrell showed up with a warning about the troll,” Neville cut into Zuko and Hermione's conspiracy building.

“So Quirrell let the troll in,” Zuko surmised.

“But how, how do you get a troll to follow you without one of you getting injured?” Hermione squinted into the ether as she tried to puzzle it out.

“Why would Quirrell, let a troll in?” Neville was happy that his two friends were back together, he just wished they weren't so paranoid and convinced at least one of the teachers was trying to... whatever evil thing it was they thought at least one of the teachers was trying to do.

“A distraction,” Hermione suggested.

“Quirrell fainted in the Hall,” Neville argued.

“Which was emptied out. How long would he have to be there before he could leave? Not long.” Zuko frowned, “and whose idea was it to move students out of a secured and defensible position. McGonagall admitted to me when I had to give my debriefing, they had no idea Hermione and I were even missing at any point until they found us with the troll.”

“Forty points for Gryffindor,” Fred declared in a sing-song voice as he and George settled down beside the trio.

The majority of the house were under the impression all 40 points were earned by 'Harry,' when he'd only earned ten of them for 'camaraderie.' Hermione had earned the other thirty for keeping calm under pressure, excellent spell work and services to the school. McGonagall had told Zuko she was planning on awarding Hermione with a small medal for her actions.

Hermione had tried to refuse the points for keeping calm under pressure, since she didn't think she had at all.

“We wanted to congratulate you two on a job well done.”

“We would have done it sooner but proper congratulations take time.”

The duo presented Hermione with a gold medallion which read: Master Troll Slayer.

Zuko got a silver one that said 'Apprentice Troll Slayer' on one side, on the other it read 'Master Baiter.' He face-palmed and tried not to groan at the crass humour.

The twins were two of the few who'd bothered to listen to the true (edited) version of events. Zuko wasn't sure if he regretted it or not.

Zuko and Hermione decided to give Neville the initial lie: Harry Potter was in contact with higher beings because he was the chosen one.

The duo had realised their new mission, (of figuring out Zuko's mission,) was ostracising Neville, and both of them were fond of the other boy. He'd told them in response, while he wasn't sure how much help he'd be, he'd keep an ear and eye out for anything suspicious.

(Inside Neville was bursting with joy that there was anyone who'd trust him with a secret this big, that anyone would care enough about him to let him in on it, rather than letting him drift away into the background to be forgotten.)

The twins took to hanging around the small group, as if they were waiting for Hermione or Zuko to do something interesting, but were too 'polite' to outright say anything.

November progressed, people started talking about Quidditch and Christmas – what ever the 'Lair that was – and Zuko, Hermione and occasionally Neville were pouring through books in the library, looking for information on giant three headed dogs.

Harry had mentioned the animal to Hagrid during one of their regular Friday afternoon teas, knowing that the giant man was fond of strange animals of unusual size. Hagrid had almost choked on his rock cake. When he'd gotten his breath back he'd asked who'd told him about Fluffy.

Zuko had lied and said no one had told him about Fluffy, but he'd overheard an older student muttering about a three-headed dog.

Hagrid had told him not to worry about it and changed the subject.

Fluffy's name was the only information he'd been able to gather on the beast. Hermione had mentioned that she'd thought the description familiar, but couldn't place where, before suggesting the dog might be of foreign origin.

Between Harry's description and Neville's knowledge of Herbology, the trio had decided the vines beneath the trap door were most likely Devil's Snare.

Hermione had asked what Zuko planned to do once he got past the traps.

“What makes you think I'm going to try?”

Both Hermione and Neville had given him a blank look.

“Move the Stone,” they all agreed it was the most likely suspect for the prize at the end of the trail. “Hide it, who every is searching for it is convinced it's beyond that trap door, as long as we don't tell them otherwise...”

“And what about the people who check up on the stone, if there are any. If they discover the stone is missing word will get out.”

“What if there's a stone there to find?” Zuko and Hermione turned to Neville. “I mean, if there's a copy where the real one should be, everyone will think it's the real one, right?” The duo gave him a curious look. Neville's ears turned red as he mumbled an explanation about one of his granduncle's stories, about a fellow who kept replacing a pet with a near identical animal, every time it died.

“Where do we get a fake stone though?” Zuko wanted to know.

“... I... might... have a relative who could help. If you give me clear description of the stone.” Hermione blushed. Neville looked surprised, but Zuko just nodded and began to write down measurements estimated from his Gringotts trip.

Zuko's eyebrow twitched, there it was again, that word: Christmas.

It was driving him nuts, he'd searched through his Spirit granted knowledge but all he could find on it simmered down to 'Christmas is a winter festival celebrated on December 25^th.'

The information made no sense to him, it wasn't even a celebration of the Winter Solstice.

With a growl he stood from his seat at the breakfast table and moved down to find Hermione. His sudden appearance in the seat beside her was met with a raised eyebrow and a concerned frown.

“What's wrong?”

“I need to ask you something, and I need you to take my question seriously, and not question my mental capabilities as a result.”

“....mmm,” Hermione gave hive him a reluctant nod.

“What in The 'Lair is Christmas!?” He'd meant to ask quietly, calmly, but his frustration made him want to shout; in the end the query came out in a harsh stage whisper.

All movement and discussion around him stopped.

“Well Harry, that's actually a very good question, you see Christmas as we know it today has been commandeered and re-purposed by several religious bodies and commercial agents so the truest origins of the season have been lost to time, however-”

Zuko focused through the superfluous information Hermione was spouting to detract the general population from the fact 'Harry Potter' didn't know what Christmas was. In all it took Hermione eight minutes and fourteen seconds to explain Christmas.

“So I have to... give people presents?”

“Basically.”

“How many people, which people, what kind of gifts?” He wondered if he could contact the siblings at the magical travel agency and just leave the country until it was all over.

“Well the closer the relationship the more thought and care the gift should have, your inner circle of people should receive gifts, for everyone else there's Christmas cards... and by everyone else I mean the people you speak to with any sort of regularity.”

“Uh...” Zuko had spoken to many people, mostly because they spoke to him. “So what sort of gifts do I get people in my 'inner circle'?”

“Something heartfelt they would use or enjoy, nothing outrageously expensive though. For example, and spoiler alert here: I'm getting you a book on Asian tea preparation because I know you want to learn how to brew your own tea. When you get it: pretend to be surprised.”

“Surprised?” Zuko asked, trying to keep up, trying to match the 'holiday' with anything similar from his own world.

“Yes, it's a gift, people aren't supposed to know what it is until they open it. My family always knows though, we tend to pick out our own gifts and the giver pays for it then wraps it and puts it under the tree. My parents had a few too many dud-gifts during their early relationship,” Hermione explained.

“Right, so you'll tell me what you want for Christmas?”

“Well... I've already got everything I want for Christmas waiting for me at home, so I can't actually help you there, sorry. How about you make me something? That's a thing people do.”

“That's true, our mum makes us new jumpers every year.” Ron cut in with a grimace to tell everyone nearby exactly what he thought of his mother's jumpers.

“Make something...” Zuko glared intensely at the table top trying to figure out what he could make. His mental list of his skills was... actually really random now that he was 'looking' at it.

“Oh!” He finally hit on something that might work. Hermione raised both eyebrows this time.

“Got an idea, I'll have to check with Hagrid and McGonagall for viability.”

“Alright go have fun with that.” Zuko was already half way to the teacher's table by the time she'd finished her sentence. Hermione shared a look with Neville over the boy's antics.

“Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, could I talk to you both for a moment.”

“Of course Mr. Potter.” The two adults turned to him, the nearby teachers looked over in curiosity.

“I've just been talking to Hermione about this Christmas thing you do-” and didn't that just cause some reactions, “-and she's informed me I need to present gifts to certain members of acquaintance, but she's not sure what I should give everyone – except for the 'Christmas cards' – so she suggested I make things as presents, but the only things I can think to make would require materials that I'd need to break rules to gather." He grimaced faintly and continued, “so if it's not too much imposition, because I know Hagrid goes into the forest on occasion, may I get a short and temporary exemption from the rules to go with Hagrid to gather materials for the Christmas presents?”

“I'd be happy to take yeh Harry, it's a might dangerous mind,” Hagrid smiled at him and turned to McGonagall.

“Hagrid's right, it's very dangerous," she waited just long enough for both their faces to fall slightly, "so I suppose I'll just have to go with you as well.”

“Thank you, professor, Hagrid..." before he returned to his table, the young man gave her a suspicious look. "Professor, are you just trying to be the first to see what I'm making.”

“Nonsense, go finish your breakfast.”

“Yes professor.”

Hagrid and Minerva trailed Harry as he wound his way through the forest, stopping every now and then to examine fallen branches and the like, Hagrid had brought his axe with him but Minerva wasn't quite sure what it was for.

Were they looking for fire wood?

No, that couldn't have been it, Harry had passed up plenty of wood he could have used for that. Plus there were dozens of fires going at the castle already, and any number of spells that could start a fire that needed no wood.

The first piece of wood Harry picked to keep he'd tapped with a knife – and where the hell had he gotten that from – shaking the wood close to his ear as if listening for something inside.

Whatever he heard he seemed pleased.

Was he planning on carving the wood perhaps?

That seemed more likely, but...

“Do you know what he's planning to do with so much wood Hagrid?”

“No clue professor.” Hagrid smiled under his beard, “he certainly moves through the forest well enough.”

Minerva hummed in response, so she wasn't imagining it.

Harry froze suddenly, then his head whipped up and his body jerked as he tried to see through a gap in the trees to his right.

Minerva started to moved towards him but he threw up a hand in a 'wait' gesture. His hand turned and he indicated for them to 'come here' but immediately after repeated the 'wait there' gesture.

Minerva's brow furrowed, then it clicked.

'Come here but do it slowly.'

She and Hagrid crept forwards, as much as a half-giant could creep anyway. Minerva's breath caught in her throat.

Between the trees was a brilliant white and a soft glowing gold.

A unicorn and it's foal ate some of the underbrush just past the tree line. It was a beautiful sight. Hagrid sniffled loudly, Minerva managed to be quieter about it. Harry gave them a confused glance.

Collecting the wood he needed for his project – mission: Christmas Presents – had taken hours, with it being late autumn, almost winter, the sky was beginning to darken rapidly as the trio made their way back to the castle.

Hagrid and Professor McGonagall had seemed in awe of the strange horses – unicorns, his recalled from his text books – but they'd just put Zuko on edge. Sure the information he had said they were herbivores, but he'd seen those horns as they'd devoured the underbrush.

If those things had charged the trio, there would have been little in the way of non-magical defence they could have done to prevent skewering, other than dodge.

The adults had seemed too enamoured with the beasts to have even realised their lives might have been in danger in the first place. Even Zuko had felt a strange fuzzy warmth as he'd looked at the parent and it's foal.

Zuko surmised Unicorns used some sort of mind affecting defensive magic. Truly, they were dangerous creatures.

“Thanks Hagrid,” Harry gave him an almost-smile of appreciation as the half-giant placed the load of wood down beside the big desk in Harry's Workroom.

“No worries Harry, you let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will, thanks again.” The large man stood there nodding his understanding as he looked around the room, the walls were covered with chalk boards on wheels, all of them covered with the strange chicken scratch writing Harry used sometimes when he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing.

Or too focused on what he was doing.

There were a few pictures, if Hagrid didn't know any better he'd say that one lumpy thing on the third board was the philosopher's stone, but that was silly. Just like there was no reason it would be in a flow chart that included Quirrell's turban or a bat in a dress.

“Hagrid...” the man in question turned to Harry who was standing with an amused look and his arms crossed. “Loitering in my work room isn't going to make me tell you what I'm planning.”

“Worth a try.” He shrugged haplessly, Harry snorted and waved him out.

Hermione had helped him write a list of people he should send presents too, and a second list of people he should send Christmas cards too, if he really wanted.

The first list had the words 'your relatives' followed by half a dozen question marks. It was also on the second list albeit with a few less eroteme.

Zuko decided to start with Hermione, since he already had a good idea of what he wanted to do with her present.

He practised his form on a few pieces of scrap wood once he'd prepared the panel for her gift. He didn't want to ruin the work he'd put into the panel if his control wasn't perfect in his borrowed body.

It wasn't.

The first piece turned to ash in seconds, the second was a billow of smoke, the third was charcoal. The fourth was just poorly done.

In all it took him twenty pieces of scrap before he was happy with his work to even try a proper panel.

He whimped out at the last second, and decided to do some more practice pieces, namely the small, simple pieces he'd planned to go with the top several dozen of the Christmas 'cards' he planned to send. Hermione had gotten her parents to send a selection of actual cards and he copied some of the prominent designs onto the hand sized wooden disks.

There were a lot of pine trees with simple decorations, and snow flakes, and snowmen in the snow.

He turned out almost forty pieces before he decided to take a break, during which he fell asleep.

He woke half-off his workroom cot the next morning, he pulled a face at the floor a few centimetres from his nose and got up, attended his morning ablutions, ate some food and warmed up with some delicate work by initialling the small pieces with H.J.P. and his real name the way his mother wrote it on his announcement of birth, in the old language of his people.

At last he was ready for the bigger pieces.

Line by line, item by item he built the picture for Hermione's present in his mind until it was complete, then he held it there in the front of his mind and he summoned heat and not-flame to his fingers and began to draw.

Zuko took a few breaks from gift making to rejuvenate himself, he had a lot to do, he couldn't afford to overwork himself and get sick before he was finished.

During one of his breaks he meandered up to the Great Hall, there was only one day left before holidays and Hermione demanded he spent some time with them. They met Hagrid in the entrance way as he dragged in a large tree, he greeted them happily and made some not-so-subtle inquiries about Zuko's gifts. The young man shook his head and kept his peace.

The trio followed Hagrid into the Great Hall where McGonagall and Flitwick were busy with decorating.

“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – put that in the far corner would you?”

The trio looked around in amazement as the teachers added baubles and sparkling strings to the trees.

“Can we help?” Zuko asked, the teachers and his friends turned to him. He tugged his wand from his boot and wiggled it, “if you teach us the charms you're using we can start on the new tree.” (Zuko was never going to admit he just wanted to put the golden bubbles up in his workshop. They were just so pretty.)

The teachers shared a smile and a shrug, who were they to deny students who wanted to learn.

As always Hermione figured the spells out first, but Zuko was a close second, together they helped Neville, who only took a few minutes more before he had it.

Hermione and Neville smothered their laughter as Zuko clambered up, through the branches of the tree. He emerged very near the top of the tree, and with his wand, sent a rain of bubbles down the needle like leaves of the tree. The bubbles stuck where they liked as they rolled down the tree, once they'd all stopped, Hermione and Neville flung strands of glittering tinsel upwards, trying to land it between the bubbles.

“Oh, well done you three – Good heavens Mr Potter! What are you doing up there?”

“Uh... decorating?” The three adults in the room looked shocked, until McGonagall and Hagrid remembered the wood gathering expedition, then only Flitwick looked shocked.

“Very well, Mr Potter,” McGonagall's tone made it clear she disapproved of his tree climbing, though she wasn't truly angry, “while you're up there would you like to add the star?”

Zuko nodded and cast the third spell the teachers had just taught him. The spiny light he created settled securely to the top most branch, throwing soft rose-gold light, tiny sparks drifted down onto the tree above Zuko, where they hadn't decorated, covering it in glowing lights.

For a moment Zuko was back in the tunnel of Dragon's Fire, warmth blooming in his chest. He smiled softly.

He wondered if Katara could see it.

Hermione lugged her bag of books through the barrier onto the main platform of Kings Cross. She was only home for the holidays, so she hadn't seen any point bringing all her belongings back with her, opting instead to bring what she needed for homework and nothing else.

She caught sight of her parents and made her way over to them, they were standing with a boy only a year older than Hermione.

“And here she is, back from the magical land of...”

“Scotland.” Her mother's enthusiastic look dropped a bit.

“Well Scotland's not very magical.”

“The magical community would be inclined to disagree,” Hermione said with a giggle.

“Ah well, how was it?” Her mother sighed in sympathy, and slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

“... Let's talk in the car.”

The quartet escaped the hustle and bustle of the station easily enough, packing Hermione's back and the boy's trunk and duffle into the boot.

After settling into their seats, but before turning on the engine her parents turned to the two youths in the backseat.

“Right, so Hermione's got a story.”

“Not a story so much as a mystery. There's a giant three-headed dog in my school and it's guarding a trap door that leads to a pit filled with man-strangling vines.”

“Three-headed dog?” Her mother sounded incredulous. “What like Kerberos, guardian of the gates of Hades?”

“Cerberus,” Hermione's father corrected.

“It's Kerberos.”

“Helena, your family has a Greek legends naming fetish, but you are not Greek; Romanise.”

“Oh, like you're one to talk, Tybolt.”

Leaving her parents to bicker in the front seat Hermione turned to the boy.

“Hello Uncle Ariel.”

“Hello Hermione, how is my favourite nibling?” Ariel asked with a soft grin.

Hermione scoffed, “I'm your only nibling.”

“Yes, so, and?”

“I had to Gandalf the heck out of a Mountain Troll on Halloween. How are you?”

“I got expelled for uncovering an embezzlement scheme.” Ariel didn't look very embarrassed about it.

“Why'd you get expelled, surely that sort of thing would earn you commendations for community mindedness?”

Her young uncle shrugged.

“It was the teaching staff who were embezzling; and technically every one got expelled. On account of the school being shut down. Do you know, I think I might potentially have a promising career in espionage.”

“You want to be a spy?” Hermione asked.

“As long as I get to sit behind a desk. And make things that blow other things up.”

“What happened to your promising career in forgery?" Hermione frowned a little, "and would you be willing to make a star garnet the size of my fist before you switch careers?”

Ariel had just enough time to look intrigued before:

“ANYWAY-” Helena said loudly, Hermione turned back to the front, her parents were done bickering, (and make-up smooching,) “Greek Mythology, guards the entrance to the underworld, we have a couple of books with relevant myths at home.”

“Wonderful, thank you family, for all your help.”

Hedwig loved her boy, she really did. Even more so when he gave her work to do, she was a post owl damn it, and fine one too, but her boy rarely had letters for her to send.

This week however she was heading all over the country dropping off letters and packages.

It was fantastic.

She'd been worried about her boy when she'd first gotten him. If she was honest he'd scared her a little, humans with fire on their insides wasn't something one saw everyday, or ever really. But he'd been so happy for her presence she'd allowed his touch, and when she hadn't burnt she'd relaxed.

The first weeks she'd been with him the scent of death lingered under his skin, but soon the fire in his soul (mostly) burnt it out.

In those days she'd gone to Diagon Alley every few days with a basket for refilling.

Then they'd arrived at Hogwarts and he hadn't needed to send anything anywhere. Oh he had her take notes to the Big Man, but he lived on the grounds and it just wasn't the same.

But, as the weather turned from cold to colder, her boy had come to her, talked to her, asking her to undertake this task. He'd said he knew he was giving her a parliaments' worth of work, but he had faith she could pull it off.

Damn right she could.

The letters went first, there were a several dozen.

Then the letters with the tiny parcels, there were less of those but still a lot.

Finally the parcels.

There were different sizes. One went to the Book Girl with the Mane, one to the Plant Boy, one to the Old Cat Lady, the biggest went to the Big Man.

There was a parcel for the Train People, a parcel for the Underground People in the Bank and one for the place where she took the basket too.

The last parcel she almost didn't take. It was for the place, the people, her boy had lived with before the castle.

When she returned from her last job he was waiting for her with a giant plate stacked high with perfectly crisped pig.

“You really are the greatest owl in the world aren't you?”

Damn straight she was.

Ginny was about to die of excitement, Harry Potter had sent her – her – a Christmas gift. Admittedly it was only a wooden ornament with a picture of a snowflake on it and he'd sent one to all her brothers too (all with different pictures) and the notes that came with them all read the same:

'Wishing you well during this holiday season
– H.J.P.'

But hers also said: 'Ginny, didn't want you to feel left out, Merry Christmas.'

Harry Potter knew who she was!

Draco sneered in confusion at the wooden ornament with the snowman and the note wishing him well for the holidays. His parents looked just as confused.

“I thought you and the Potter boy weren't getting along?” His father was fishing for an explanation. Draco... didn't have one.

Neville grinned at his present from Harry, his family looked thoroughly confused.

A wooden panel with a picture in sepia depicted Neville in armour raising a sword, seated atop a giant toad as he prepared to battle a plant monster.

Neville failed to contain his happy laughter.

Hermione's awed gazed flicked back and forth from her present from Harry to her parents as they tried to find a place to put it.

The wooden panel was not quite three times the size of her head, but relatively thin, and on it, in expert pyrography, was a picture of a griffin surrounded by a library, the griffin itself seemed to be reading a scroll with great interest.

If that hadn't been enough Hermione had almost lost her mind when she realised one of the book titles was legible: Hogwarts: a History.

The Goblin nation as unsure what to do with a Christmas present. Typically they received – if anything at all – gaudy gifts intended as bribery.

This was a picture on a plank of wood of three recognisable goblins on top of a pile of treasure looking rather dashing. The Goblins in the picture had all assisted Harry Potter – the present's sender – the day he'd entered the bank on august first.

It was the best example of fire drawing the Goblins had seen in a long time. But it wasn't going to curry any favours.

The picture ended up in the Grand Hall of Gathering none the less. It was a very nice picture.

The Sunflower Café workers had been surprised to receive a gift to the establishment for Christmas. They were pleased never the less. Several friendly fights broke out over the workers wanting to take the pyrography picture home with them.

In the end, the picture of several mystical animals having a picnic under a sun that looked like a sunflower, was hung on the café wall where all the patrons could stare in envy.

Wendy stepped down from the ladder and the siblings looked at the picture of the Hogwarts Express flying over London with smiles on their faces.

A grumbly dog's whine came from behind one of the counters.

“Nanna, come take a look at this!”

Hagrid wept with happiness as he fixed his present to the wall of his hut. He didn't know how Harry had done it but the picture on the wood showed Hagrid playing happily with a dragon by the garden just outside his hut. It was so realistic, if he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was a sepia-photograph printed on the wood.

Minerva put a hand over her mouth to stifle a happy sob. She'd received a Christmas present from the son of two of her favourite former students.

It was a picture of the two unicorns she's seen the day she'd gone to watch over him in the forest. The only difference in the picture from her memory was the tabby cat in the foreground with a tiny witch's hat perched jauntily on her head.

Dumbledore smiled happily at the note he'd received from Harry wishing him well on the holidays. Such a courteous young man.

In his dungeons Severus sneered and threw the note away. Blasted Potter playing mind games with him.

The Dursleys weren't sure what to make of the picture.

It had come from Harry so it was probably some freakish curse in disguise. Unfortunately they'd been hosting a small get together, and it had been seen before they could get rid of it. The guests had all wanted to know where they'd gotten it, it was such an unusual piece, they'd all wanted one.

“A gift from our nephew, he's away at school, trying to turn his life around. He used to be such an angry young thing, very troubled. Parents died when he was an infant, affected him badly. Luckily for him we had room to take him in.”

The pyrography picture of the three Dursleys in a frame of petunia flowers found a place on the mantle. After all, they all looked rather handsome and attractive in it.

Zuko had a hard time writing thank you notes for the gifts he was sent for Christmas. Not only because there were so many, but because not all of them came with identification.

One in particular was apparently a former belonging of James Potter.

It was a sheet.

That made you invisible.

Zuko screamed for joy.

Secretly.

On the inside.

Hermione returned to school after the holidays to find she wasn't the only one to receive a gift from Harry Potter that Christmas. Harry's idea of a Christmas card, was apparently a coaster with Pyrography and a Merry Christmas note.

He'd sent one to everyone in Gryffindor, all of their year mates, and several other students and members of staff. Though everyone in the school got at least a Merry Christmas note from him.

And anyone who'd sent him a gift had received a thank you note as well.

“Harry,” boy in question looked up from his exercise, “about the Christmas gift... thing... ahem... you might have... overdone it, by a lot.”

“How so?” Harry slowly brought his body out of its position.

“Presents like you gave me and Neville were fine, but the, erm, card thing... coasters to everyone in our year level and house, not year level or house, notes only for the rest of the house and bugger the other houses, and that's at a stretch.”

“Ah, well... damn, I wish I had of checked with you before hand. Now I have to overdo it every year.” He moved back into a pose, this one the mirror image of his last.

“Every year?”

“Yeah, people will be expecting it now and if I don't they'll feel snubbed, it's not a good idea to snub masses of people when you're in the public eye, they will turn on you. And I have good public favour right now.” Hermione wondered how he managed to make it sound like there was an unspoken horror story in such a simple statement.

“Well, as long as you're prepared to do that every year...” Harry sighed and flopped on the ground in defeat.

“By the way, I have a present for you,” Hermione said.

“Christmas is finished,” he sat up, looking horrified, "Christmas is finished right?"

Hermione threw the small sack on Harry's stomach. “Ooph. The 'Lair is this?” He pulled out the contents and held it up to the light. “Oh that's good, that's real nice,” his pleased grin scared her a little.

“In other news, I might have a solution to Fluffy.”

Albus frowned as he watched the wards around the Mirror of Erised, still nothing. He'd given Harry his father's cloak at Christmas, and several days later, still nothing.

He'd give the boy another week, if he still hadn't found it during his night time explorations, Albus would have to get more pro-active.

The lines on the old man's face deepened as he settled into grief, he had so many regrets in his long life, the fate of Harry Potter was one of the biggest and most painful though.

In the quiet and the dark, Albus wished yet again, that there was another way, and he cursed the prophecy which bound the boy's fate.

Hermione finished pinning her braided hair up and tugged on her steel-blue beanie. Her hands were trembling, she took a deep breath to calm herself.

It didn't help.

“Hermione, you don't have to go with me, I can go on my own if you'd rather stay here.” She shook her head at Harry's words. She'd brought the information on Fluffy, she'd acquired the false stone, she was in this, she was part of it, she was going to see it through.

It was just an awful lot of rules she was about to break.

“Good luck Hermione,” Neville smiled, looking as nervous as she felt.

“Thank you, Neville,” she smiled back. Harry looked back and forth between them for a moment.

“Don't I get a wish of good luck?” Something in Harry's tone (mild amusement), made it seem like he was referencing a running joke neither of them had heard before.

Neville frowned, fighting down a smile, “... do you remember back in September? Because I do, and it leads me to believe you don't need extra luck. You've got a rather impressive set of skills.”

Harry shrugged and pulled a face as if to say 'yeah, fair enough.'

Harry went out the window first, Hermione followed in her own copy of Harry's 'casual ninja wear,' as she'd dubbed it. He helped her across the rooftops, catching her when the winter ice made her slip.

At last they made it to the windows of the rooms along the third floor corridor. Harry entered first, setting his cumbersome bag by the door before returning to help Hermione through the window.

She waited with the bag as Harry listened for Fluffy on the other side. Whatever he heard, he was happy with, he nodded to her in silence, then opened the door wide, stepping out into the corridor.

Fluffy's tail woke first, hissing until its canine head woke, the cerberus barking and twisting its way down the corridor.

Hermione raised her wand – “epoximise” – while Harry raised a wooden flute to his lips. A sweet melody she was unfamiliar with filled the corridor. Fluffy ambled to a stop, flopping to its belly, and fell back asleep. Not breaking tune, Harry gave her another nod.

Hermione opened the bag they'd brought, removed the contents and began assembling. It had been a gift from her favourite – only – uncle when she'd discussed the 'Fluffy problem' with her family over Christmas break.

Less than two minutes later Hermione was dropping the needle on the compact record player. The soft melody of the record rising to meet the song of Harry's flute, which he stopped playing.

Fluffy didn't even stir.

The duo shared a brief smile, then exited the hallway, Harry closing and re-shouldering the pack as they went. Along the outside of the wall to the other window, back inside, and through to the corridor they went. This time they pulled out a rig to hold a rope for them to slide down. Harry, again, went first.

Head first in fact, letting off small plumes of flame, to push back the Devil's Snare.

“Oh that's weird,” his voice sounded odd, distorted.

“What is it?” Hermione looked down and frown.

“I feel like I'm falling even when I'm still. And you look really far away.”

“You sound really far away, it must be some form of disorientation spell, to make you think you're falling much further than you are, people are less likely to question what they've fallen on if they're in shock over a long fall.”

“Well, that's real clever, but I think I may need to be sick.”

“Please try not to leave evidence behind.”

“Ha-ha,” Harry replied drolly.

Hermione waited another minute.

“Alright, I've got floor space, come on down.”

Hermione almost bit through her lip in an effort not to scream as she slid down the rope. (Right side up, thank goodness.) She'd underestimated the disorientation of the spell. Harry steadied her with one arm as she made it to the ground.

While she regained her senses, and pulled the end of the rope to a nearby archway – fixing to the wall with a second 'epoximise' – Harry kept the Devil's Snare from getting too close to their feet. Once the rope was out of danger of getting tangled with the vine, the duo headed along the only exit. The corridor was long, and would have been dark if it hadn't been for Harry's handful of flames.

Hermione counted her steps and her pulse and they walked. The corridor was only twenty metres in length, but it felt like they walked for several times as long as it took.

“More disorientation magic?”

“Where is this in the school?" Hermione asked, "this should be the second floor, but it's not... folded space? It might not be an intentional protection, so much as a side effect of magic enlarging a very small space.”

The duo shared an uneasy look, before turning their attention to the things fluttering around the new chamber.

“Why are the keys flying?” Harry asked faintly, gazing upwards.

“Well there's brooms, maybe they want us to catch the right key?” Hermione sounded very uncertain as she looked around.

“That's stupid, if they want to protect the contents behind the door why leave the correct key in the room?”

“You have met the other witches and wizards at our school haven't you? They're not exactly the most logical of folk.”

“I'm not flying,” Harry ignore the keys and brooms and knelt to examine the lock. “This could take a while, unless you have something that can expand inside the lock?”

“... I might be able to McGyver something.”

“McGyver?”

Hermione put the tip of her wand to the keyhole.

“Aguamenti, Glacius.” A burst of water flooded the lock and froze, the lock popped open. “Huh, wasn't sure that would work on that style of lock.”

Harry gave her an indulgent, amused look.

For all of half a second before they realised the keys were hurtling towards them.

They slipped through the door at lightning speed, the thunking of keys hitting the door and walls on the other side was deafening.

“That's probably going to leave a mark, so much for no evidence.”

“Yeah,” Harry gave an amused huff as he melted the ice from the lock.

They stepped away from the door and the new room was filled with blinding light. The floor was covered by large black and white squares, atop which sat giant chess pieces. With caution the duo made their way across the board, stopping when the pawns on the far side drew their weapons and barred the way.

“Ugh, don't tell me we have to win a game to pass.” The White Queen nodded at Hermione rhetoric. “Fine.”

“I thought you didn't like chess,” Harry followed her back to the black pieces and let her direct him to the kings piece.

“I don't, it's boring.”

“Why am I the king?”

“It's the most valuable piece on the board, if it gets taken, it's game over. I'm not doing this without you.” She let the queen help her up.

“Now, white moves first.” A white pawn moved forwards two spaces. “The game, my dear Watson, is afoot.”

The game, such as it was lasted for less than five minutes.

“How-”

“I'm upper middle class and I have a high IQ, of course I was in chess club Harry." Harry opened his mouth to point out a fallacy, but Hermione knew what he was thinking, and beat him to it. "I lost to Ron, as fast as possible every time he managed to talk me in to playing, so he'd stop asking me to play. There's not actually all that many variations of the game, especially when you're playing the same person.”

They stalled at the next door when a familiar pungent odour assaulted their nostrils. Rather than fighting the troll, Harry pulled out the invisibility cloak and cover them both with it. As one they darted around the slumbering troll and through the next door.

They stepped into the next room, their attention caught by a table with seven bottles, until purple fire erupted in the doorway behind them, black fire cutting of their path forwards.

Harry shifted in discomfort.

“Harry?”

“The... fire feels weird. All magical fire feels weird. What's with the bottles.” Hermione rolled her eyes, boys never wanted to talk about their feelings, but neither did she so she didn't comment or push. A sheet of paper caught her eye, she skimmed the writing.

“Ah, Snape made a trap. Logic puzzle, guaranteed to stump 99.99% of wizards and witches everywhere. Let's see... three poison, two wine, and two potions – one for either flame.”

'To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First however slyly the poison tries to hide
you will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move forward, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither Dwarf nor giant, hold death in their insides;
Forth the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.'

“Easy,” Hermione said, Harry gave her a 'what the hell' look and a 'please explain' hand wave. “Alright, label the bottles one through seven as you look at them. From the clues we can immediately deduce bottle 2 and 6 hold the same substance, bottles 1 and 7 hold different substances though neither of them the 'Move Forward' potion.

“Bottle 6 is also the largest bottle – neither dwarf nor giant – so number six and number four, the smallest bottle can not be poison. Given Number 6 is not poison and there's a second bottle of the same substance, number 6 and number 2 must be the nettle wine.

“Following clue one that means 1 and 5 must be poison; by clue two we can tell 7 is not poison which means bottle 3 is also the third bottle of poison. And if bottle 7 is not wine, poison or capable of getting us forwards, it must be the potion to take us back, the smallest bottle therefore holding the potion which takes us forwards.”

Harry nodded his understanding, then Hermione added: “Or it's a lie and they all hold poison, because the people who check on the stone, if they exist, bring the proper potion with them.”

The pair looked at each other for a long moment before Harry broke the silence.

“So do you want to risk it, or should I just move the flames?”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, and Hermione considered the options.

“Well, we've already left enough evidence, but no point drinking a potion if we don't have to.”

Harry nodded, walked over to the flames, and sunk down to his knees. He began his meditation breathing. As Hermione watched, the rollicking flames began to pulse in time with his breath. He raised his hand into a prayer position, then lowered them, moving his palms apart but leaving his hands joined at the thumb.

His hands pressed further down, his arms twisted until his hand made a V shape, the backs of his hands facing each other. The fire had followed his motions, until there was a space between the flames, Hermione passed what was left of the obstacle with a dainty jump. She walked forward into the next room and was joined soon after by Harry.

“The treasure of our pursuits sit alone in a room on a pedestal, ” Hermione said, suspicion in her voice.

“Looks that way... can you hear that?” Harry asked quietly.

“What?”

“That voice screaming TRAP!” Harry's face held barely contained amusement, and Hermione wanted to laugh at his terrible joke, but...

“Is that what that noise is? What do the Spirits say?”

Harry frowned, tilted his head like he was listening to something quiet or far away.

“They were amused by our plan, now they're sort of... put off?”

“How so?” Hermione's brows furrowed.

“Like they're fine for us to do it... but they... don't want us to do it... now?”

“They want you to face the thief?” Hermione let the outrage tinge her voice, just a little.

“YES! Uh, sorry, just overwhelming, 'Hermione is right' sensation.”

“Overwhelming? I would have thought you'd be used to it by now, after all, it should be a familiar sensation, what with me always being right.” The duo pulled sarcastically amused faces at each other. “What if you promise to come back to fight the thief when they actually get here?”

Harry let out a quiet hum of contemplation, “... they seem to be alright with that, I guess the face-to-face is Destiny levels of important.”

“So, what kind of trap do you think is in this room?” Harry pulled a strange face. “What?”

“Uh... the Spirits seem to be indicating... there isn't one... yet. There's a definite yet in there.”

“Huh... well then, let's swap out the Stone and get back to the dorms.”

“Yes ma'am.” Harry swapped the Stone with its fake with a flourish. Both students froze, looking around like they still expected a trap to trigger. Two minutes passed and nothing happened. The pair shrugged at each other and retraced their steps.

Chapter Text

Zuko jerked awake, unsure what had woken him.

:Go for a walk.:

His brow line scrunched as he frowned in confusion, why would the Spirits want him to go for a walk?

:Go for a walk.:

'Really, in the middle of the night?'

:You didn't seem to have any problems sneaking around in the middle of the night before.:

Zuko pulled a 'what the 'Lair' face at that, it was the most concise and snippish feeling he'd gotten from the Spirits... ever. He could almost hear the words themselves.

He got out of bed and dressed anyway.

:Take the cloak.:

Zuko ran a hand over his face, swearing mentally.

'Are you going to micromanage this entire trip?'

:Get the cloak, and Start. Walking.:

The Spirits lead him to a room with a standing mirror. Someone was lurking in the corner, not quite invisible, but impossible to see nonetheless.

With prompting, Zuko slid the cloak off, and stepped in front of the mirror. His reflection, and the reflection of the room, vanished from the glass. In its place was an image of the Jasmine Dragon, his Uncle's tea shop in Ba Sing Se.

Aang was playing Pai Sho with Iroh, Sokka was painting... something, with Sukki watching over his shoulder.

Zuko himself was serving cups of tea to one of the tables, Katara smiled as he set hers down in front of her, Toph was talking to Ty Lee, who was sprawled over an indulgent Mai.

The presence of Mai and Ty Lee made him doubt the vision he saw, but there were two more in the image who made him certain the vision was false.

Vision Zuko set down two more cups, one in front of an older Hermione, and another in front of an older Neville. Vision Hermione eyed the tea in her cup warily, making his vision self huff.

The image in the glass had no sound, so the real Zuko wasn't sure what made some of the people in the glass turn towards the door, but a second later -

"Mum?" Real Zuko's fingers traced his mother's face, as she appeared in the doorway of the Jasmine Dragon. In the vision, Zuko and his Mother embraced, sliding in the door behind their mother, Azula pulled a face, her mouth forming the words 'mother's boy.'

There was something softer looking about Azula, but Zuko couldn't for the life of him, put his finger on it.

His vision self pulled a face, then pulled Azula into a hug. Around the room cheerful greetings were clearly being called out.

With an audible attempt to stop the tears forming in his eyes, the real Zuko stepped back from the mirror.

It wasn't real, the vision was a fantasy and nothing more.

But he wanted, he wanted so bad his heart ached. Sniffling, he dashed the tear that had managed to escape, and tried to centre himself. He was better than this, he told himself.

Trying to focus on anything but what he was feeling, Zuko let his eyes wander over the room. They caught on an inscription across the top of the mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Something about the words made his eyes itch, he scrubbed them with the heels of his hands, and read again. The magical language download the Spirits had given him made the words move, in his mind's eye, flipping the whole line over and changing the spacing.

"I show not your face but your hearts desire." Zuko really, really hated magic at that moment. He was also sure there should be an apostrophe in there.

"It's called the Mirror of Erised," Zuko didn't flinch, as the person who'd been lurking spoke up.

"Headmaster?"

"Harry," Dumbledore ambled closer, "having read the inscription I trust you understand, this mirror offers neither truth nor knowledge."

"Given the people showing up in my vision, I did have that suspicion." The edge of Dumbledore's mouth twitched upwards.

"Still, the mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, you might know better than to trust what you see in the mirror, but other's have not been so lucky. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they see, others have been driven mad, not knowing if what they see is real, or even possible."

"Part of my vision is possible, but some of it isn't."

"Oh? You saw your family didn't you?"

"Yes, and Lily and James Potter may be dead, but not all families are defined by blood alone." An expression of both pride and pain crossed Dumbledore's face.

"That is very wise Harry, very wise indeed."

"No, it's a truth hard learned... Headmaster, may I make some personal enquiries of you?"

"You want to know what I see when I look in the mirror?" Dumbledore guessed.

"That wasn't one of them, but sure, if you'd like to share..." Zuko shrugged.

"I see myself holding a nice, thick pair of woollen socks, one can never have enough socks." The headmaster sighed, "another Christmas gone and I didn't get a single pair. People insist on giving me books."

"Shame on them, if they're going to give you books, they could at least be practical about it – like Hermione – and give you a book on making socks." Zuko's deadpan was lost on Dumbledore, who looked rather intrigued with the idea. "Maybe if you got the people to put it on your Chocolate Frog card..."

Dumbledore looked like he was plotting, and Zuko realised he'd gotten off track.

"I wanted to asked you headmaster: You are the Supreme Mugwump, aren't you?"

"I am," Dumbledore refocused on Zuko.

"Were you Supreme Mugwump ten years ago?" Dumbledore nodded, "then you are the one who sealed Lily and James Potter's wills. I'd like to know why."

Dumbledore sighed again, looking old and worn and sad. His eyes met Zuko's.

"Harry, I know it must seem like I'm keeping things from you, and in a way I am; You are young and I'm sure you feel like you have all of life's answers-"

"Actually, I don't, that's why I ask questions." Dumbledore's lips twitched up again.

"Then please, trust my many decades of experience Harry, I still don't know everything my self, but I'd like to think my long life has taught me enough. When your parents wrote their will, they were... not as informed about the people around them as they could have been, their wills have certain... properties bequeathed to people who... would not act in your best interest with their inheritance."

"So you've sealed the wills, so people you don't trust can't inherit."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, "yes, it may seem cruel, but I am trying to protect you. I have left a stipulation for the wills to be unsealed, once you have turned seventeen, and are legally able to debate the wills, if you so choose."

"I see..." Zuko could understand the headmaster's actions, if he tilted his head and squinted.

"You had another question for me, I believe." Zuko snorted at the headmaster's attempt to change the subject.

"Yes, I do. Headmaster Dumbledore: are you perhaps tone deaf?" The old man looked taken aback. "Because, judging from your enjoyment of the cacophony that was the school song, back in September: all your musical opinions are suspect, or you're tone deaf."

The headmaster laughed, his mirth loud in the quiet room. Zuko sighed, he suspected he knew the answer.

January and February continued to be cold and snowy, along side Zuko's growing knowledge of witchcraft and wizardry, Hermione and Neville taught him the fine art of Snowman Crafting. Though within the first few minutes the pair began a disagreement on three spheres versus two, and the correct name for the largest of the three spheres, if there was even supposed to be one.

"It's the Butt!"

"It's called an abdomen!"

"This is why there should only be two balls: The Head and The Body, not the head, the tummy and the butt!"

"There should be three: The head, the thorax, and the abdomen! Unless they're super tiny snowmen; then, they can be just head and abdomen!"

Around the time they began arguing over proper facial construct, Zuko wandered off to inspect the staff's ice-sculpture contest.

Hagrid, despite being the only entrant to not use magic, won.

After the contest, McGonagall and Flitwick once again teamed up, to teach Zuko the spells involved. The results were ice dragons everywhere, and koi fish made of ice, leaping from the ice covered Lake.

Zuko's foray into ice skating was better left unmentioned.

Mid-March began Hermione's obsessive reviewing. Zuko for one was grateful for it, only realising once they'd begun, just how much he'd forgotten. The teachers were also increasing the work load.

(During all the study, revision and training, Zuko was aware, in a vague way, that they had a few days off from classes.

When he'd asked, Hermione had told him it was Easter Holidays. Her explanation had been brief, and distracted, as she read through her colour coded notes.

Zuko only got that there were chocolates shaped like eggs, and something about the undead.)

One Friday afternoon, while on break for his weekly afternoon tea with Hagrid, Zuko arrived to find the hut radiating far more heat than it should have, and Hagrid acting very suspicious.

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Yeh wouldn' mind rescheduling, would yeh?"

At Zuko's narrowed eyes Hagrid caved, all but yanking Zuko inside and slamming the door. Zuko's gaze was drawn to the source of the heat.

"Hagrid... is that an egg in the fire?"

"Ermm..." the large man looked guilty, his eyes darting about for an excuse.

"What is it, and where did you get it?" Zuko asked in a tired, but friendly voice.

"I won it a few nights ago, down in the village in a game o' cards with a stranger. According to the book," Hagrid hefted Dragon breeding for profit and pleasure, and opened the book to a specific page for Zuko, "what I got here's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare them."

Zuko refrained from smacking himself in the head, but only just, settling for dragging his hand across his face.

"Hagrid-"

:Wait:

'What? But this is a bad plan, this is a disaster waiting to happen.'

:It will lead you to a clue:

'There's no other possible way for me to find this clue?'

There was a moment of consideration, and the presence telling him to hold his tongue, drew back.

"- Has it occurred to you, that hatching a fire breathing dragon in a wooden hut, is perhaps not the best idea? Also, how big will this thing get? Where will you keep it, how will you keep it secret, or from eating the nearby live stock, or the students!?"

Hagrid's entire body drooped.

"Hagrid, I'm sorry, I know how much you love dragons, but please, remember that dragons are territorial predators that eat people, and live stock, and anything they can fit their jaws around. They can't be trained like Fang, or probably even Fluffy." Zuko knew he had to drive the point home, the dragons of this world weren't like the dragon's of his. "What about when it gets old enough to mate? Hagrid, this is illegal, and I don't think it's good for the dragon. There are places for it though, right, I know the Weasleys have a brother who works on a dragon preserve."

Hagrid started crying. Zuko, feeling very uncomfortable, did his best to console the large man.

Zuko managed to convince Hagrid to see McGonagall about the dragon. What followed was the most impressive dressing down in the entire history of Hogwarts.

Ever.

The deputy headmistress sent out letters to various Dragon Sanctuaries, trying to find people to take the egg off their hands, without letting the ministry know about it.

From what Zuko gathered, Hagrid had a history of illegal-and-dangerous-creature raising. It was somehow related to his ban on using magic.

Zuko added research on Norwegian Ridgebacks to his already heavy studies. What he found wasn't good. The dragon in question was the most aggressive dragon recorded, it also developed its fire breathing ability earlier than any other dragon and ate, not just land mammals, but aquatic creatures too.

Dragon skin was magic retardant, hard to cut, and the ridges that would develop, were capable of extreme damage.

Hagrid had the egg of one of the worlds most dangerous predators in his hut.

But how had the stranger who'd given it to Hagrid, gotten it in the first place?

"Mighta bin a dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up." Hagrid shrugged, looking sullen.

"That didn't strike you as odd?" Zuko asked.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's one of the pubs down in the village."

"Alright, Hagrid, can you tell me everything you remember? Anything at all no matter how small or insignificant the detail."

So Hagrid told him, as much as he could remember, confused as to why 'Harry' wanted to know. Then Hagrid let slip the one thing Zuko had been waiting for. Hagrid had told the stranger how to get past Fluffy.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that! Forget I said it!"

'No, you shouldn't have told him that.' Zuko had to resist the urge to smack himself in the forehead, again.

"It's fine Hagrid, consider it forgotten. There's nothing else you remember about the stranger, maybe he was talking with an accent? Marks on his hands?"

There was nothing else.

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes Harry?" Harry looked very sombre, staring Minerva in the eye, like he was about to tell her something she didn't want to hear.

"I have some bad news." Of course he did.

Minerva was going to strangle Hagrid one of these days. Honest to goodness. She knew people did stupid things when they'd imbibed too much alcohol, but really, giving away the key to a protective trap, one which was guarding one of the most powerful artefacts in the history of the British isle.

The door of the Hog's Head slammed open under the force of Minerva's rage, and a little bit of wandless magic.

"Aberforth!"

"I'm closed!" Came a voice from the rooms beyond.

"Not for this! Get out here!"

"Minnie! I didn't realise it was you, what can I do for you?" Said a man who bore a great resemblance to Albus Dumbledore, as he came ambling through one of the doors.

"I need information, Hagrid was down here several days ago, playing cards with a stranger in a cloak. Tell me everything you can about the stranger."

Harry was waiting for her on the steps of the school when she returned.

"Did you learn anything?"

Part of Minerva wanted to tell him off for presuming, part of her admired his tenacity for sticking with the investigation rather than letting her – an adult and figure of authority – handle the situation.

'Trust given is trust earned,' she reminded herself.

"The stranger's been by the pub a few times, always when Hagrid's been there. Several nights ago was the first time he approached Hagrid though; my source says he seemed to wait until Hagrid was well on his way to inebriation, before making contact."

Harry nodded, his eyes unfocused, Minerva wondered if he was picturing it all in his head.

"He left before Hagrid, seemed to be headed towards the school, but with magical transport, that doesn't mean very much."

"Maybe," Harry's focus narrowed, his face forming a very displeased expression. "Thank you for keeping me in the loop on this."

"I do hope you'll do the same." Harry looked startled, and a little chagrined.

"I'll do my best." He gave her a nod and scarpered off, into the castle, leaving her frowning on the steps.

"That wasn't a yes."

The handing off of the egg was done in the middle of the night, a quick exchange atop the astronomy tower, Hagrid bawled all the way back to his hut. Watching from the shadows, Zuko felt bad for the man. He'd done the wrong thing, true, but he was hardly the first, only,a or last person to make a mistake, even one that could have ended with a body count. (Arctic waters viewed from a raft, bloated corpses floating and sinking with the waves; a small town in the dust of the Earth Kingdom, a child with his knife.)

Hagrid grew more and more morose as the weeks carried on, Zuko tried to cheer him up, but to no avail. The second last Wednesday of March, as he was leaving his last class of the day, Zuko was struck by an overwhelming urge to go see Hagrid.

He startled his classmates as he took off running.

'Surely he wouldn't- please don't let him have-' Zuko couldn't even finish any of his mental sentences as he ran, fearing the worst. After only a few minutes – but what felt like an age – he caught sight of Hagrid, crouched low by the Forbidden Forest.

"Hagrid!" The large man looked up, startled.

"Stay back Harry, yeh don' need ter see this." Zuko stumbled to a stop as he realised, he hadn't been sent to see Hagrid, he'd been sent for the dead body on the ground.

"Is that a unicorn?" Zuko dropped his school gear, stepping around Hagrid to examine the deceased equine.

Something was strange, withered looking, about the body. His eyes caught on a small slash on the neck, a smudge of silver fluid, drying around the wound. His gaze darted around the area.

"Where's all the-" 'No, there, drag marks and Hagrid's boot prints.' "How far did you move the body?"

Not waiting for an answer Zuko stalked along the trail, taking care not to muddy it with his own tracks.

"Harry, don't- no, yeh two stay back!"

"Oh my go-" Hermione's voice caught, she sounded like she needed to be sick.

Zuko didn't need to go far, to find the place where the unicorn had come to its final rest. Staying clear of the tracks, Zuko walked around the area, taking it in.

"Harry, what are yeh doing?"

Zuko looked at Hagrid, beside him were Hermione and Neville, looking very out of breath, but so determined.

"Where's all the blood Hagrid? That unicorn was almost dry, but I can't see much in the way of blood."

"Unicorns don't have a lot of natural predators, but unicorn blood can be used to keep someone alive, but consuming it curses the drinker to a... 'half life.'" Hermione looked sickened by her own words, though Zuko wondered if it wasn't carry over from seeing the dead unicorn, Neville took on a rather green tinge.

"Who would choose that? A cursed existence over death?" Neville's question made Zuko think.

"Some one who's already living a cursed existence?" The trio gave him a confused look. Zuko tapped his scar with the tip of a finger. "Hagrid once said it himself, there are those who don't think he's dead, that there wasn't enough human left in him to die. We've all seen evidence of ghosts. Is it impossible to believe: a being of immense power and hatred, might be able to cling on after death, to inch its way back from the doorstep of Death?"

"Sauron."

The three males turned to Hermione. She looked up startled.

"Hermione?"

"The books I've been reading, all year, over and over again. Tolkien's books. There's this... wizard, an evil wizard, he's unkillable, until his Ring of Power is cut from his hand. Except he doesn't die, not really, he becomes an evil spirit, still able to enact his will through servants. His one goal is to retrieve his Ring of Power, so he can return to physical form."

Zuko frowned.

"Hermione, how typical is it for you to re-read books, that many times in a year?"

Hermione shook her head, frowning. "It's not, I've read the entire series twenty three times since mid-July. Under normal conditions, I go at least twelve months before a re-read."

'Did you do this?' Zuko wondered at the Spirits. There was silence, but it was guilty silence.

"Hermione, I think I'd like to read those books of yours."

Hagrid had been confused and a little disturbed by their conversation in the Forest, but he let them leave after extracting promises they wouldn't talk about the dead unicorn. They didn't need a panic in the school, nor did they need rampant paranoia about a dead, evil wizard.

Harry stared at the page of the book in front of him. He hadn't read a single word in the past eighteen minutes. Hermione could tell because his eyes, which weren't moving, had a glazed look; never mind he hadn't flipped the page in a while.

"Harry," he jerked, looking up with a lost expression. "The books were written a while ago, the language format is a little outdated, you wouldn't be the first person to get lost from it. Maybe I should just give you a more thorough synopsis."

"Oh Spirits, yes please."

It still took hours.

"Of course there are other books about undead megalomaniacs trying to come back to life, heck, I swear that's half the story lines in comic books."

"So what's different about Tolkien's story? The Spirits had you reading these books, not any of the others, this isn't just a running theme, there's something specific about this story."

"I can do a comparison chart over the summer once I have access to all my books," Hermione said, mostly thinking aloud.

"Would you mind?" Harry asked.

"It'll give me something to do outside summer school."

"Summer School?"

"Yes, so I can catch up on my 'Muggle studies.'"

The last Tuesday of March, Hagrid sent a note to Zuko.

'There's been another one, might be alive.'

Then the man protested, when Zuko showed up to help find the unicorn after classes.

"Hagrid, I'm a good tracker, you could use another pair of eyes." What he hadn't learned from his years in exile, he'd picked up from a very enthusiastic to share Sokka.

"Well I hope you don't intend for them to be yours," Zuko turned to find Professor McGonagall, and a sheepish Hermione.

"I do, professor."

"Absolutely not," she replied sternly.

"I have to."

"Harry you're being ridiculous," Hermione huffed, clearly torn between trusting his ability and concern for his well being.

"No Hermione, I'm not," he tapped his temple and pointed up. Her eyes widened as she realised she'd tried to stop him following instructions from 'on high.'

"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him, silently questioning the meaning of his gesture. Zuko rubbed his head, he was getting a headache, and he doubted McGonagall would let the matter drop.

"Sometimes... I know... things. I get these feelings, from... I don't know where, they've been telling me to investigate some things... like the unicorn." He shared a look with Hermione. "I don't think Voldemort is as dead as everyone hoped, I think he's still alive and the... Spirits who've been guiding me, want me to stop him."

"Why you? You are a child?" McGonagall looked horrified.

"Because I've defeated him before? Because I'm the only one who can sense the Spirits? Because it's my Destiny, and it will happen whether I want it to or not? I honestly don't know professor. What I do know: I need to track this unicorn. There's a mystery, and at the end of this trail, is a clue."

Hermione waited in silence, Hagrid looked between Zuko and McGonagall.

Zuko looked steadily into McGonagall's eyes. In response the Head of House straightened her robes and her hat.

"Miss Granger, please return to the castle. Mr Potter, if you insist on this foolishness, then you leave me little choice, I shall be going with you. My animagus form is also a capable tracker." She gazed back, daring him to object.

"Alright," he turned to Hermione, "I'll be back later."

"Be careful," she shot him a final concerned look, before heading up to the castle.

"Right, err, let's be off," Hagrid said, trying to erase the last traces of tension in the air. Zuko nodded and took off, tracking the splotches of silver, and hoof prints on the Forest floor.

McGonagall's body warped, and she darted after him on small paws. Hagrid shared a look with Fang and followed after them.

The group made excellent progress, until they found a divergence in the tracks.

"We may have to split up, unicorn blood must take a while to dry, I can't tell what's freshest... professor? Can you?"

The cat that was a witch sniffed around the area, sneezing a few times at the scent, and shook her head, sort of, as much as a cat could.

"Splitting up it is... Spirits, it must have been stumbling around for hours, to create this much cross-track. Alright Hagrid, professor McGonagall and I will follow along this way, if you and Fang want to check those tracks."

"Yeh sure yeh'll be alright Harry?" Hagrid frowned, unsure about leaving the other two on their own.

"Of course, I've got professor McGonagall to protect me."

Zuko and McGonagall trekked further into the Forest, the darkness becoming more complete as night settled. Between them, the duo managed to eliminate almost all of the trails, finding the freshest path after what Zuko's stomach told him was dinner time.

Zuko had been using a small handful of flame, to light his way after the sun had fallen, with out warning to McGonagall his closed his hand, extinguishing them.

The teacher turned cat glanced at him in the sudden darkness. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted. McGonagall twitched her ears, seeking out the sound he seemed to be listening for.

A faint breath, laboured, a largish animal, big enough to be a unicorn.

Zuko left the trail, McGonagall darting ahead of him, they found the unicorn at the base of a large tree, by the edge of a small clearing, no longer able to stand. It looked terrified, like it had worn itself out fleeing for its life.

"Shh, shh," Zuko knelt by the beast's head, stroking softly. It looked up at him with baleful eyes. It knew as well as he did, it wasn't going to survive. "Is there anything we can do for it?" He glanced at McGonagall, who looked as forlorn as the unicorn.

Her ears pricked, just as the unicorn began to move frantically. Zuko turned, the sound of material slithering over the Forest floor reaching his ears.

A dark figure appeared across the clearing. Zuko found it hard to breathe, pain lancing out from the scar on his forehead.

Everything was green, someone was screaming, someone was laughing.

McGonagall said something, but it was far away and muffled, there was a light, and shrieking, and the pain ebbed away.

"Breathe Harry, breathe." McGonagall's hands were on him, his entire body shook while he tried not to vomit. Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place like a death knell.

Beside him the unicorn lay still, its laboured breathing ceased.

Chapter Text

Harry returned to the dorms pale, shaken, and sure. He wouldn't tell Hermione what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, but she could see that whatever had occurred, it had not been any kind of fun.

"It's Quirrell, he's the servant, he wants the stone." Harry said as he sat with her on the couch by the fire, his gaze resting unfocused on the glowing embers.  There had been something else, something Harry hadn't said, something important. The answer seemed to be on the wall, next to a picture of a ring, in handwriting that held a tension the rest of the wall didn't, in a language she couldn't read.

But what was it he wasn't saying?

Minerva had been keeping an eye on Harry, since the night in the forest, and while he never seemed to hit that irritated wrath he'd held in the first week of the year, she could see a change in him. He rubbed at his scar as though it pained him, she 'over heard' Neville telling Hermione that Harry hadn't been sleeping well.

She was concerned, but uncertain as to what she could do.

She knew she should have been more firm with him about going after the unicorn, but she'd gotten enough of a handle on his personality to be reasonably certain he would have gone with or with out her permission.

Between final cramming, and nightmares of green light, Zuko noticed McGonagall keeping an eye on him. When he'd recovered from the events of the Forbidden Forest, she'd read him the riot act, he could see though, under the bluster and anger, was a lot of concern for his well being.

He hadn't seen his Uncle in almost a year, every day he missed the older Fire Bender more and more, so it was nice to know there was someone (older and wiser than himself) he could go to. (Especially now that he was learning to accept help, and that he couldn't do everything himself just by out stubborn-ing the problem.)

Between all the worries plaguing Zuko, asleep or awake, exams arrived.

He managed his way through the written exams, somehow, and was able to tap-dance a pineapple along a desk, turn a mouse into a snuff-box and even brew a Forgetfulness potion for the practical exams.

It took four days to get through them all. Four days of waiting, an impending sense of 'soon' looming ever closer, an almost tangible deadline creeping towards him.

The evening after their final exam – history, and oh wasn't that just the most insufferable class he'd ever had to take – Dumbledore was missing from the head table during dinner.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?" The young witch raised an eyebrow as she chewed a mouthful of perfectly cooked chicken.

"Do you recall, a few weeks ago we were discussing the things that Voldemort feared?"

"Mmhmm..." She swallowed and reached for her glass of juice, a sense of mild dread rearing its head.

"Look who's missing from the head table." Zuko gestured with his knife, and Hermione's eyes followed the directions to Dumbledore's empty chair.

"And here was me looking forward to sleep tonight."

"I can go by myself, you can still-"

"Harry please, it's tricky enough trying to set up the gramophone while you're dealing with Fluffy, you're not going to have a good time of trying to do it yourself. Plus, it would take you an hour to get through a game of chess-"

"It's a really confusing game, it has nothing to do with real warfare and the rules are just-"

"-Never mind the fact that I'd be too concerned about your welfare, to actually get any sleep. So no, you can't go by yourself." Neville watched as Hermione fixed Zuko with an imperious look, and Zuko backed down. He'd known too many stubborn girls to think he could argue with that level of determination. (He really was getting better at that whole 'pick your battles' thing his Uncle used to mention.)

"...fine then... we'll take the cloak and go through the castle, no point clearing traps for the guy we're trying to stop, just because we got there first and didn't realise."

Neville stayed up with him, nervous babbling filling the air between them. Zuko was touched by the boy's concern.

Soon enough, it was time for him to meet Hermione in the common room. They left Neville waiting on the couch near the fire.

"Be careful," Neville's voice shook as he wished them luck. Zuko could see on his face that Neville was warring with himself, one part wanted to go, to help his friends, the other part (the thankfully winning part) knew he wouldn't be much help once they actually got there, knew that the duo had cleared the traps before.

Hoped they'd manage again, and be able to survive whatever additional threat was waiting for them.

"We will," Hermione smiled in assurance, before disappearing under the cloak.

Hermione did her best not to think of the number of rules she was, once again, breaking with abandon. She almost didn't notice Zuko stop before she bumped into him.

"The door is open," he whispered, unsure if she could see the slight gap from her angle behind him.

"He's already in there," she said quietly, both of them knowing she meant 'be extra careful and on your guard.'

The only difference between this break in, and their last run of the gauntlet, was the fact they didn't need to lure Fluffy away from the trap door. The dozing beast was clear of the entrance, Zuko played a soft melody as Hermione set up the gramophone, to ensure it stayed that way.

At least, that was the only difference until they cleared the chess board.

Harry froze, his hand on the door to the Troll's room.

"Harry?"

"Hermione, you need to go get help." He tapped his temple and pointed up, indicating the higher powers that spoke to him.

"No. No way, bugger them, you're not doing this alone." She clenched her jaw, getting ready to argue with beings beyond her comprehension.

"I won't be, but this is something you can't be there for," Slowly, Harry reached out, setting his hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, begging her to understand.

'His hands are always so warm,' Hermione caught herself thinking, aware suddenly of how much hotter Harry always seemed to be on the few occasions they touched.

The fight bled out of her, and she rolled her eyes, because 'boys, honestly.'

"...Come back in one piece," she told him seriously.

"I'll do my best."

"That wasn't a yes!... and I'm talking to a door." Hermione huffed at the door her friend had disappeared behind midsentence, her frown deepening when she realised he'd, at some point, given her the invisibility cloak.

"Stay safe," she whirled the cloak about her shoulders, making her way, as fast as she could, to McGonagall's quarters.

Zuko stepped through the fire, letting the wall of flame close behind him. Quirrell was waiting for him on the other side. The man was standing incredibly still, a complete antithesis to his normal twitching.

"Ah Potter, I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here." Zuko listened to Quirrell's monologue with one ear, half of his focus was cataloguing the changes in the room since his last visit.

There was only one in truth: the pedestal which had previously held the Philosopher's Stone, had been replaced with the Mirror of Erised.

"... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight." Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes were conjured into existence, wrapping Zuko in a tight bundle. Zuko cursed at himself for not being more alert, then he cursed Quirrell and magic, because that move was cheating.

The evil teacher went back to his monologuing, and while he was distracted recounting his plight, Zuko began burning through the ropes. It was a tricky procedure that used intense heat, without light or flame, but Zuko had spent quite a while doing basically just that for Christmas gifts.

Quirrell's ranting took him back over to the Mirror, exclaiming aloud how there had to be some kind of trick to it, that he could see a vision of himself giving the Stone to his Master.

'I'm going to kill him,' Zuko acknowledged that the defence professor was an insane zealot, but he was also very dangerous.

The emotions conveyed by the Spirits were of confirmation, they supported Zuko's plan.

"What does the mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

Zuko snapped the last of the rope and was ridding himself of the scraps, when a voice came from beneath Quirrell's turban. The sound of it made Zuko's skin crawl, filled him with the primordial need to flee, or fight.

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

The teacher rounded on him, just in time to take a kick to the knee. Quirrell fell, screeching as he went. Zuko grabbed his head and slammed his knee into the man's face, knocking him senseless.

Then Zuko shoved with his chi, the same fireless heat he'd used to melt the ropes, and sent it cascading through Quirrell's head.

There was a gargled scream, followed by silence; Zuko didn't stop, he made the heat spread through the corpse, until there was nothing but charred bones and ash.

Zuko took a few steps back, the ashes stirred in a non-existent wind. Something rose up, carrying bits of ash with it. It dove at him with a wrathful scream, lifted him up and carried him a few metres, then slammed his body against the steps.

If he hadn't immediately blacked out, Zuko would have heard the loud crack of his skull against the steps.

But Zuko was dragged under by pain in his scar, and horrendous nightmare memories that had never belonged to him.

Minerva tore Severus's fire spell apart, magic swirling around her, ready to fight to the death if she had to.

While Minerva wasn't quite sure what she'd been expecting – Harry in mortal danger, Quirrell hurting him, another failure to protect her children – what she found, wasn't it.

"Harry!" She had to grab Hermione by the collar, as the young girl tried to dart for her friend.

The boy in question lay at odd angles across the stairs. Minerva sent a quick, probing spell to look for any traps; the results came back clean, and both witches rushed to Harry's side.

"Please be alright," Hermione took one of his hands in her own, gasping. "He's so cold," Minerva brushed a hand across his forehead, noting the intense, raw, redness of his scar.

Harry's skin was only a few degrees cooler than Minerva's own, but the few scattered moments of contact with the boy ran through her mind; Hermione was right, Harry tended to run much hotter than this.

Eyes darting around, trying to figure out what had happened, Minerva felt bile in the back of her throat, when she caught sight of the charred skeleton across the room. She must have made a noise, because Hermione's head shot up, gaze snapping from Harry to Minerva, to the sight at the end of Minerva's gaze.

"Oh my gh-"

"I think we'd best get Harry to Madam Pomfrey," Minerva cut the young girl off, drawing her attention back to her friend. 

Hermione nodded, trying not to throw up.

Minerva levitated Harry's body with as much care as possible, Hermione walking ahead to make sure they wouldn't run into any obstacles.

Dumbledore met them at the entrance to the hospital wing.

Zuko swept the eraser back and forth, white chalk words smearing and fading beneath his attentions.

"You shouldn't have killed him," Zuko frowned at the young voice, refusing to turn around. "There was another way Zuko, there's always another way. I found one, I found a way to stop your father without killing him; why couldn't you?"

Zuko sighed, looking down at his body, at the familiar red and black robes he hadn't seen in almost a year. One hand rubbed over his face, the creases and texture of his scar under his fingers.

'Of course I'm dreaming,' he set the eraser down and turned to Aang, "that's something you've never understood about me, and I doubt you ever will. Before you woke up, there was a war for a hundred years, most of us didn't get to sleep through it, most of us had to deal with it."

Dream Aang watched him,  silently, disappointment on his face.

"I already had blood on my hands when we met, a lot of it," Zuko admitted. "I never wanted to hurt anybody, and as much as it sounds like an excuse, sometimes we don't get a choice other than 'him or me.' You think because you dethroned the Fire Lord that the war is over? That everyone will just lay down their arms, and hug it out? They won't! We'll be lucky if the fighting truly stops in our life time!"

Zuko took a deep breath to calm himself, aware his voice had risen to an almost frantic pitch, he let the anger go as best he could.

"I'm tired of fighting, but it's not just going to stop. I want there to have been another way, I want to have taken it; but there wasn't..."

'It wouldn't have mattered much to Quirrell anyway,' he didn't say, the memory of his chi pushing heat through a body, broken and failing before he'd even touched it. He sunk to the ground, curling up on himself under the Avatar's condemning gaze.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, time had no meaning in dreams anyway, but when he looked up, he was alone.

The world faded back into darkness.

There was a faint rustle of cloth, the sound of someone else's breath. Zuko didn't know where he was, but he wasn't alone.

He lay as still as he could, trying to emulate sleep, until his body was awake enough for him to act.

"If you're quite done pretending to be asleep, Harry, I think perhaps we should discuss some things." Dumbledore's voice was easy to recognise, his faint lemon scent tickling Zuko's nose, now he knew to search for it.

He opened his eyes to see Dumbledore smiling down at him.

"Headmaster," Zuko held his tongue, rather than asking how much trouble he was in for killing a teacher, even an evil one.

"You've been asleep for four days you know, you even missed the end of term feast. Miss Granger has been by everyday, as have dozens of admirers." Dumbledore gestured to his bedside table, piled high with cards, and what looked like half a candy store.

"Well," Zuko tried to make light of the situation, as he pushed himself into a sitting position, "at least I'll make some serious progress on my chocolate frog card collection."

Dumbledore smiled, amusement clear on his face.

"You should know Harry, what happened between you and Quirrell is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows."

Zuko stiffened.

"So the whole school knows I killed a man."

"No!" He jerked at Dumbledore vehement reply. "Harry, I understand what happened must have been very traumatic for you, but you did not kill Professor Quirrell."

"Pretty sure I did, there was a skeleton and everything." Zuko tried to figure out if the old wizard was really that unaware of events, or merely trying to absolve a young boy of guilt.

"Well yes, Quirrell is dead, but it was not your fault," Dumbledore raised a hand to silence Zuko, when the youth went to interrupt. "Your mother died to save you. If there's one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's leaves it's own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though that person is gone, will give us some protection forever."

Dumbledore rested his hand gently atop Zuko's in what should have been, and what was likely meant to be, a comforting gesture. "It was that power that burnt out the evil in Quirrell, alas, the evil that possessed him had already destroyed much of what was Quirrell, and corrupted the rest. There was nothing left to save, I'm afraid."

'No... pretty sure I set him on flameless fire... but sure, Love Power, let's go with that.' Zuko thought, somewhat caustically.

"So it's not my fault?" He asked, dubiously. 

"No, Harry, it is not." Even though he knew the headmaster's words were untrue, the old man's attempt at comfort made him feel a little better. (He missed his Uncle; warm arms, good tea and advice, the scent of fire and tea leaves, a deep belly laugh and a snore that could wake the Spirits.)

Dumbledore seemed to sense the deepening melancholy, and changed the subject.

"Now, some of these treats have been sitting here for a while, perhaps I'd better test one, to ensure they're still edible." He made a show of searching through the gifts, "Ah! Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth.

Then he choked, and said, "Alas! Earwax!"

Zuko's face wrinkled with disgust. (A small smile hiding in the creases.)

Madam Pomfrey kept him in for a further night of observation, allowing Hermione and Neville in to see him for a few minutes.

Between them the duo caught him up on what he'd missed – Slytherin won the house cup, again; there were now fourteen versions of 'Harry's epic battle,' and Hagrid was beside himself with the knowledge he'd told Quirrell how to get past Fluffy, and was therefore blaming himself for Zuko's hospitalisation.

Twenty-one and a third hours after waking up, Zuko was released from the hospital wing, a few 'admirers' showing up to help him cart his 'get well' gifts back to the dorm room.

He was mobbed in the common room, people asking him questions, shouting for him, demanding the truth.

Zuko covered his ears for a few seconds while he let out a shrill whistle.

"Look," he said loudly into the silence that followed. "I know you all want to know what happened, but it was not fun for me, I am not ready to talk about it. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to talk about it, so please, just give me some space, and some time; and thank you all, so much for your concern and your gifts." Without thinking he dropped into a shallow bow, his hand held in formal position. In the startled uncertainty, Zuko made a break for it, heading down to see Hagrid.

The large man wept, and wailed, and clung to Zuko, bemoaning his part in the boy being hurt. Zuko did his best to put up with the contact, letting Hagrid assure himself that Zuko was really alive and in one piece.

It was dark by the time Zuko managed to talk him down, convince him that the injuries weren't that bad. Just before they returned to the castle for evening meal, Hagrid let out an exclamation.

"I've got a present fer yeh," Hagrid rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a handsome, leather-covered book. Curious, Zuko opened it up. The first page held a wizarding photo of a young couple, the man looked like an older version of Harry, and he stared at the woman like she was the only thing in the world; the woman was beautiful and smiling, red hair shifting as she laughed in the man's arms.

'James and Lily Potter' was written in McGonagall's careful hand across the top of the page.

He flicked through the pages, every photo contained the couple.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... Knew yeh didn't have any... D'yeh like it?"

They weren't Zuko's parents, but he found himself choking down tears. He felt sorry for the entire Potter family, and wished Harry had known his parents. (Zuko missed his mother. The scent of flowers, a calm and guiding voice that hid hints of mischief.)

Hagrid wrapped him in another hug.

The exam results came out the following day, Hermione was at the top of the year, both Zuko and Neville made the top ten of their grade.

Neville asked Hermione for help going over his results, to see where he could have done better, and Zuko knew he should be doing the same, but for the moment Zuko was distracted by the photo album, only sparing his results enough time to see how he'd done.

Zuko was coming back from Hagrid's, having asked for a list of people who'd sent the photos for his album, when he came across Ron Weasley sitting alone on the stairs, a crumpled sheet of parchment at his feet.

The boy looked ready to cry.

"Ron?" The red-head looked up, his face turning an ugly shade of red, "is everything alright?"

For a moment Zuko thought the boy would lash out, as Zuko had noticed he was wont to do, when upset or embarrassed. But then all the tension drained out, Ron visibly deflated, a heaving sob filling the air between them.

"Mum's gonna kill me, it's my results, there awful, I almost failed!"

Zuko wasn't sure what to say, he was terrible at advice. But he tried anyway.

"Your work ethic is terrible, and you never study, you have no life goals." Ron was getting angry again, Zuko could see it building, "so find one. You only need one, but figure it out, what it is, and then set it as a foundation, the drive for everything you do. If you find study boring, focus on your goal, remember that you need to study, to get the knowledge to get to your goal. Use it as your touchstone."

Zuko wasn't really sure what he was saying, pulling up the things that had helped him get through his exile, but he kept going.

"I know changing isn't easy, but you're in Gryffindor for a reason, I'm sure you can find the courage to change, to be better next year... Hermione is helping Neville go over his results, she would probably help you if you asked her nicely."

Zuko wanted to smack himself in the head, that was an even worse pep talk than the 'silver sandwich' debacle.

"Just, take some time to think, figure things out." Zuko walked past the boy, dropping a hand onto his shoulder for a brief comforting pat.

Later that day, more early evening than afternoon, Harry was writing thank you notes in an alcove, while Neville read a book on Herbology. Hermione was debating between two books when she realised she wasn't alone in the aisle.

"Hermione."

"Ronald," Hermione would have been more terse, but Harry had already told her of his 'chat' with the ginger boy on the stairs.

"Errr... I was... could..." the boy's face turned very red, Hermione was somewhat concerned, that shade could not be healthy. "Would you please... help me... to go over my results?"

Hermione ran the sentence through her head, making sure he was asking what she'd thought he was, and nodded.

"Of course, do you have your exams there with you?" If he was willing to try, she was willing to pretend he hadn't been an arse to her all school year. Moral high ground, it was a secret victory, but a pleasant one.

Zuko took a break from thank you notes, to watch Ron struggle through revision.

"He'll get there," Zuko said aloud, "kicking and screaming maybe, but he will get there." He smiled at the cat nearby, letting her know he was talking to her.

The cat's nose twitched in agreement, before McGonagall curled back up into a ball to nap. Zuko's smile widened to a grin, as he fought the urge to pet the professor.

Ever since he'd been released from the hospital wing, McGonagall had been following him about in cat form.

'It's almost like she doesn't trust me out of her sight any more.'

The last few days of term flew by, before he knew it, Zuko and the rest of the school were packing up their gear, and heading off to the train.

The first years went back over the lake, their last glimpses of the castle disappearing behind the tree line, as they ascended the path to the station.

Zuko's small group claimed a compartment at the back of the train, less chance of other students running past, making noise and disturbing them.

Shortly after lunch, the sound of a trolley broke through their quiet chatter about summer plans... and Hermione's recurring though sporadic concerns the Philosopher's Stone would somehow run afoul of some unknown ill on its mostly secret return trip to the Flamels. (56 possible mishaps and counting, though Zuko thought only 13 had any actual likelihood of happening.)

A knock on the door came, and a familiar face peeked inside.

"Hello Harry, hello everyone."

"Hello Wendy," Zuko made some quick introductions to his friends.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" Zuko pulled a face and Hermione groaned. It was left to Neville to explain about the 'get well stash' residing in the Sunflower Café baskets under stasis charms.

Wendy pouted teasingly. "Well that's too bad; oh, but Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I have someone here to see you." Wendy opened the door further.

Zuko choked on his own breath, there sitting on the edge of the trolley in perfect miniature-

"Katara?!"

Chapter Text

It had taken time, for the foreign Spirit to find a suitable candidate for Katara's plan; it required someone of the same gender, of just the right potential affinities, in just the right place, and the right time.

When at last a candidate was found, Katara had to spend every moment from then on, with the foreign Spirit, waiting for that one instant when she could pass through.

It came during the depths of winter.

The young family strolling home from their relatives' place, a light fall of snow starting.

"Katara, it's happening!" The Waterbender nodded, removing her robes and accessories, stepping daintily into the Spirit's viewing pool. The foreigner stepped in beside her, placing her hands on Katara's shoulder's as they waited.

"Just so you know, I don't know that this will work, it may fail completely, you may arrive but loose your memories, it could work perfectly, or any combination there of."

"You've said that before," Katara said.

"It bares repeating."

Nerves made Katara's hands shake, she needed to keep her mind occupied with something other than whether this plan would work.

"Why was I allowed to save Hermione?" She'd been curious, but never enough to ask before now.

"She's important." Katara blinked, she hadn't been expecting an answer.

"Why, how?"

The foreign Spirit sighed, and took a second to figure out how to word her reply.

"The Chosen One is the Sword and Shield, Hermione is the Codex, the key to the knowledge that reveals the path; whether she knows it or not, she has the answers, she always has the answers. That is her Role, her Destiny."

"And Neville?"

The foreign Spirit, gave Katara a small, sly, pleased smile.

"What of him?"

"He's important too, somehow."

"Do you sense it?"

"I think I might."

"Neville is the Chosen One."

"I thought Harry Potter was the Chosen One," Katara frowned slightly.

"He is, they both are. It might be hard to comprehend, but both boys are the Chosen One, together, at the same time. Schroedinger's chosen," Katara shook her head to express her confusion. "One might play a showier role than the other, but only with both of them can Destiny be fulfilled; only after everything is done, will we know which is which."

In the image of the pool, distorted by their bodies in the water, a single snowflake twirls to land in the baby's nose.

The foreign Spirit summoned an instant of potential, and for a few seconds, the baby has a future much larger, and brighter, than before.

The cold flake melts on the infant's nose, it scrunches its face and laughs.

The foreigner pushed, Katara fell, water closing over her, and she fell further.

She's flying... or maybe she's still falling, the sound of the baby's first laugh in her ears. She flies/falls for ever, tumbling and twirling.

She looses track of everything, it takes her a moment to realise when she changes from a flurry of snowflakes, into a person again.

As golden dust faded around her, she peered out at the multitude of faces surrounding her from the branches of the tree.

"Hello," they all called to her.

"Hello," she smiled back, she'd made it, the plan had worked. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling her spirit settling into her new body, the aches of her bare soul's slow demised ebbing away.

A gasp rippled through the crowd, a whisper of 'Queen Clarion' as a light drew near.

It halted nearby, transforming into a beautiful woman with a dress made of golden dust.

"Born of laughter, clothed in cheer, happiness has brought you here."

She felt something change inside her, like a door opening, an immense expanse on the other side, waiting for her.

"Welcome to Pixie Hollow, I trust you found your way alright." The Woman's presence was warm, comforting.

"Well I did make it, so I think I must have." She couldn't help smiling at the woman. Queen Clarion smiled back.

"Alright then, let's see about those wings." The woman floated over to her, drifting behind her. A gentle touch made her realise she could feel her wings, lying limply on her back. The Queen lifted them with great care, the new fairy could feel her new wings come to life under the touch.

Clarion took her hand, and she let instinct take over, the newly awakened wings fluttering delicately, lifting her off the ground.

A laugh escaped as she flew about, never straying too far from the Queen. Clarion laughed as well, beckoning her back.

She hadn't noticed when she'd woken, a spiral pattern on the floor, etched into the wood were she'd come into being. The pattern glowed with light, as some kind of flat topped mushrooms grew from nothing in a circle around the platform.

She looked around as other fairies flew over, leaving things on the mushrooms. One of the fairies, blonde hair and a green dress, felt familiar somehow. But couldn't have been, she was only minutes old after all. No, that wasn't right. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs trying to grow there.

There were all kinds of different items on the mushrooms.

"What are these for?"

"They'll help you find your Talent."

'But I already know,' she didn't say, taking the few steps to the mushrooms with the water globe and the snowflake. The two items, right next to each other glowed, drifting together and toward her. The globe of water with the snowflake inside, glowed so bright she couldn't look directly at it.

When it died down there was silence, interrupted by a smack.

She looked around startled, a fairy in deep purple with long dark hair had one hand plastered to her face, beside her sat the blonde fairy in green looking very excited. Then the ripple of applause started.

Queen Clarion sighed, it felt like she was trying not to say 'here we go again,' but the woman was smiling so she thought it was alright.

"I'm sorry?" She felt the need to say regardless. The Queen floated beside her and wrapped one arm around her.

"It's alright dear, lately, more and more new Talents and sub-Talents have been appearing, we'll be in for an interesting time is all."

She blushed, and nodded her understanding.

"Now," a wave of the Queen's hand had the mushrooms disappearing with the unused Talent items. "We've never had a fairy who picked two Talents, so we'll have to figure out who you'll want to live with."

"Water Fairies, Frost Fairies, come meet the newest member of your Talent guilds-"

"Katara," The Queen choked back a gasp. The fairies coming to meet her stopped mid-air.

"But the Queen names everyone," one of the fairies stage whispered. Katara startled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm actually... you see... it's a really long story..."

"Water Fairies, Frost Fairies, come meet the newest member of your Talent guilds, Katara." The Queen repeated, beckoning the startled fairies closer.

Katara gasped, the feeling of a door waiting-to-open inside her shifted, like she'd been nudged through. A sudden sense of the world around her swirled inside, connecting her to the land.

"And I would love to hear your story," the Queen smiled warmly at her.

"That is an unusual tale indeed, and far too odd to make up." Clarion considered the young fairy's story and nodded. "I believe you Katara, but there are some things you must know. No doubt you wish to leave Pixie Hollow, and Never Land as well, to be with your friend."

Katara nodded, around the stage, fairies let out upset noises, to loose a new friend so soon, even if they hadn't become friends properly yet, was sad. Clarion held out a hand for silence.

"There is a reason we have shifts of fairies, why none are allowed to stay on the Main Land for more than a single season at a time. We are connected to Never Land, part of the very fabric of it's existence. A Fact. Fairies who stay away from Never Land and Pixie Hollow become sick, they... change."

Clarion shut her eyes, trying to fight off the memories, she'd been there to witness the last fairy to leave for good, the horrifying transformation into mindless being.

"They loose higher reasoning, they loose their longevity... they loose their Talent." A horrified gasp swept the area, Clarion wished she didn't have to share this truth with her fairies, but Katara needed to know, and there were secrets enough in Never Land.

"You may go to your friend, but you must return to Pixie Hollow, or you will lose yourself."

"-and we can build you a house nice and close to the Winter Woods if you'd like, but still near water, since that's your Talent. Oh, we'll need to get you some more clothes too, but don't worry about that, the Talent guilds provide a few sets of new clothes for you, and you have two guilds, so that should be fine."

Tinker Bell ushered Katara inside the small house in Tinker's Nook, taking the tools and materials her friends, Bobble and Clank, had left for her, and fixing it into a second bed in mere moments.

Katara clapped, a little awed at the speed and skill Tinker Bell displayed.

"Thanks for all this, Tinker Bell."

"It's no problem, really."

The Tinker fairy offered her some water and cakes, Katara ate her first meal as a fairy with gusto.

"So Tinker Bell?"

"Yeah?" Tinker Bell raised a curious eyebrow.

"How come Queen Clarion sent me home with you, and not a Water or Frost fairy?"

"Oh, that. Well Queen Clarion mentioned how there are new Talents and sub-Talents appearing?"

Katara nodded.

"I was one of the first to really display, see, when I first arrived I didn't want to be a Tinker fairy at all, it just didn't feel right." Tinker Bell laughed, "but I am a Tinker, through and through; it just took a while to realise that I'm also a Lost Things fairy. I have a habit of attracting the strange, unusual or lost. Not just things, but fairy Talents too."

The blonde fixed her hair unselfconsciously.

"There's a saying in Pixie Hollow: Something weird is going on? Better find Tinker Bell, she's probably near the source."

"Really?" Katara's voice came out a little incredulous.

"We'll there's a few variations but that's the most basic. I tend to bring out latent sub-Talents in fairies, too. My friend Fawn, an Animal Talent fairy, she's always had an interest in the slightly scarier animals, but after hanging out with me too long, she actually started being able to communicate with them like she does with normal animals."

The night was spent listening to Tinker Bell recount the messes she'd gotten into, and the changes in the Talents she'd seen since her arrival.

Katara's new house was at the edge of the Winter Woods, by the river that flowed through all the lands of Pixie Hollow, Tinker Bell introduced her to so many fairies Katara was surprised she remembered them all.

Katara spent the rest of the winter season learning about her Water Talent, very similar to, but so different from, her Waterbending.

Once winter finished Katara made her very first trip to the Main Land, as part of a detail of Water fairies. Unlike the rest of the Water fairies, Katara only stayed a few days before returning to Never Land, to learn about her Frost Talent, from the Frost fairies of Winter Woods.

Her teacher Periwinkle, it turned out, was Tinker Bell's sister. The duo were the only siblings amongst the fairy population, they'd been born from the same laugh, a very rare occurrence.

Over the season and a half she spent in Pixie Hollow, Katara was involved in three altercations with Pirates.

The most annoying part of the first altercation was meeting 'The Pan,' a young boy named Rufio, who according to Tinker Bell had been killed by the Captain of the Pirates, only to be restored to life by Never Land itself.

Rufio himself was brash and energetic, not the most annoying person, but there was something about him that reminded Katara of Zuko, she just couldn't put her finger on what though.

"So, why did Never Land bring you back to life?" Rufio was perched casually in a tree, snickering as Hook swam for his life from a crocodile. He stopped to look at her.

"The same reason it keeps Tiger-lily and the Darlings. To find a way to remove Hook, and his crew, from the Fabric of reality that makes Never Land."

"What do you..."

The Human boy huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, fairies? You're meant to be here, Fairies were part of Never Land from it's first dawn. Humans... not so much. Years ago, Hook found the Heart of Never Land, he figured out how to put himself inside it, him and his crew. They can't die, but they don't belong.

"Before me there was another 'Pan,' Peter, he became part of the Heart by accident... until he went away. He left us behind, the Lost Boys, and he came back again, but he took them all with him, the others. And suddenly, there was no one left to stop Hook from corrupting the Heart of Never Land.

"So it chose me, it found hearts of people who longed for this land, to protect it, and it bound them to it. Bound us..."

Katara regretted asking as a cloud of sadness passed behind the boy's eyes. A yelp sounded from the water and they turned, Hook had been nipped by the crocodile.

Rufio let out a loud, raucous laugh, falling from the tree, pixie dust induced flight the only thing keeping him from the ground, he rolled about, laughing mid-air.

A quiet, solemn presence behind her, had Katara turning. Zarina.

"It was my fault." Katara reached for the Alchemy fairy, taking her hand gently. "I showed Hook how to make pixie dust and fly, I let him know about Never Land. I didn't know it would lead to this, but..."

"Don't blame yourself," Katara wrapped the older fairy in a hug. "People like that always find a way, and who's to say - if it had happened another way - that it wouldn't have hurt more people? You didn't know, so you can't blame yourself; besides, you're trying to make up for it even now."

"I know that, everyone keeps saying that but... I was a little in love with him. I was angry, and I thought he saw me, saw me and cared about me and... he didn't, I was just-" the fairy sounded bitter.

Katara hugged the girl tighter, running a hand through her hair.

Katara gestured, and a flurry of cold and ice crystals swept over Periwinkle, chilling the over heated girl, as she pulled the Frost fairy from the lantern.

A Pirate yelled, running towards them. An arrow flew from nowhere, pinning the pirate to the ship, metres away. The fairy duo looked over, Tiger-lily gave them a grin and a nod, dropping her bow in favour of her knife, when one of the pirates got too close.

Near the wheel, Rufio and Michael fought Hook for control of the ship, while Tinker Bell and three other fairies were running rampant amongst the crew.

Wendy cut the net holding the mermaids, Tiger-lily covered her with her bow, Rufio and John held off the pirates while Katara, and several other Water fairies, raised a pillar of water for the mermaids to escape into.

Hook shrieked in rage as his latest captives escaped back into the sea, his special net destroyed.

Hostages rescued, the Never Land team retreated, leaving behind some very irate pirates.

Safe again, the group laughed at their foes, recounting details of their fights with exaggerated re-enactments.

"Hey Tinker Bell?"

"Yeah Katara?"

"Why is Hook always trying to capture people?"

"Hmm? Oh, he's stuck here, he can't just sail away, and we're not going to help him get out; can you imagine, an immortal pirate crew pillaging the Mainland? Urgh."

"Stuck here?"

"Yeah. The only way out is to fly; the ocean goes on forever, and just winds up back here. I mean you can sail in, but you can't sail out."

"Huh, so that's it. … Tink, can I ask... uh, you and Wendy..." Katara faltered over her words, unsure if she should ask.

"Oh that, yeah, it's pretty complicated. Peter brought her to Never Land a long time ago, she was supposed to be a mother for the Lost Boys... it didn't work out that way. It's said that fairies are so small, we can really only hold one emotion at a time, Hook was trying to exploit that when Wendy came. He used this medallion, which made fairies more prone to negative emotions... I almost killed Wendy, but she almost killed me too, so we figure we're even, it's just... still awkward to be around one another, even after all this time."

Tinker Bell gave her an awkward smile, then startled as an idea came to her. "Hey! You said you were having trouble locating your friend when you looked, the last time you were on the Mainland, right? Maybe Wendy can help, she and her brothers run a travel thingy, so they know lots of people, one of them has to know something."

"That's a great idea Tink, I'll ask her right now."

Katara already knew Wendy knew Zuko, or at least his cover identity, she just hadn't had time to ask the woman, nor had she quite known how.

When Katara asked, Wendy informed her that she knew the boy Katara was looking for, and would actually be seeing him in another week and a half, to take the students back to London.

With Queen Clarion's permission, Katara accompanied the Darling siblings back to the Mainland, to see where to meet them on the day of the trip.

The time in between saying goodbye to them, and meeting back up with them, was spent preparing, Tinker Bell and Terance gave her a specially designed bag filled with pixie dust to last just over a week, and Zarina gave her a few tips on making the pixie dust last a little longer.

The first day with the Darling siblings was spent taking their train to a station at a village called Hogsmead, they slept the night on the train so they could be ready first thing, to take the children home.

Katara spent almost the entire time riding around in the folded material of Wendy's cowl-neck shirt. Officially it was to 'conserve pixie dust.' Unofficially, it was to get the fairy used to it, so she could stick with Wendy on the train ride back to London, without being seen by too many people.

John had brought up a good point, that the people of Wizarding Britain were used to the vapid mutations the Never Land fairies became when they left Never Land for too long, and might have tried to hurt her or capture her, thinking her a mindless, magical bug.

As Wendy made her way down the train, delivering snacks to students, Katara could feel the thrumming of her connection with Zuko, it seemed to get louder and surer.

Then, Wendy seemed to stumble, turning away from the cabin doors she ushered Katara from her hiding place.

"Found him, want to do a dramatic entrance?" Too nervous to speak Katara nodded, letting Wendy place her on the edge of the snack cart.

Wend poked her head through the cabin door where Zuko sat; Katara tried to control her breathing.

'I'm going to see Zuko again. I'M GOING TO SEE HIM AGAIN!'

The sound of her heart beating drowned out the words of Wendy, and the people she spoke to, suddenly she was moving aside and sliding the door open and-

"Katara." For an instant she thought she saw his true face beneath his borrowed visage, both faces looked surprised (awed, shocked, pleased, relieved) to see her. She smiled at him, and waved.