A/N: I've been sitting on this for a while-I have about 10,000 words already written. Sorry to those who were waiting on my other fic for Dragon Age, but this one wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing it.
In case you can't pick it up from the summary or what follows, this is a Korra/Asami AU taking place in the Harry Potter world. However, I've set it in the US for a number of reasons (head over to my tumblr-same username-to ask if you want the specifics). There will be a lot of fun worldbuilding, etc. It also isn't going to try to mirror the tone of the HP series, since it will end up focusing primarily on Korra as a young adult, so the tone will be a bit darker. So-Harry Potter, but not. There are a couple of HP AUs around for LoK already that take place at Hogwarts and I recommend them!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I've started here. This is going to be a long and epic ride (hopefully) that will incorporate themes from both HP and from Korra (because I think there are some interesting overlaps). Familiarity with both series will help, but I hope I've written it in such a way that people unfamiliar with one or the other won't get lost.
"Where is the child?" he asked, stooping low in the house. He was so tall that the beams in the ceiling brushed the top of his head even as he leaned forward, attempting to peer into the dark recesses of the home.
The crowd of people hesitated, and a howling wind filled the silence. He glanced outside and saw only a few desperate snowflakes whipped by the wind. Turning his gaze back to the muggles, he repeated his question, hoping to leave before a blizzard rolled over the small city: "Where is the child?"
A woman weaved her way through the crowd, pushing through their uncertainty with ease. "This way," she said, and he noted the calmness in her voice. His eyes twitched over her, and he saw the shape of a wand concealed under her sweater, barely distinct in the half-light. But he was trained to notice these things. Nodding, he followed her into the dark room.
The door shut behind them, and all at once a pale blue erupted, so bright he instinctively shielded his eyes, his wand leaping into his hand in a half-remembered reflex. He noted, too, that the howling outside seemed to have receded, that an eerie silence accompanied the strange, pulsing light, and for the first time in many years, he felt a nervous rhythm erupt in his veins.
"It's alright," the woman said into the heavy stillness, and he cautiously lowered his arms. She was standing still, calm and unperturbed, but he noticed a certain thinness about her lips. He noticed, too, that she wasn't looking at him, but straight into the heart of the light.
And he turned his gaze to it too, though it was so bright that his eyes watered for the first long moments. Approaching slowly, he began to make out a shadowy form hidden in the center of the light, surprisingly small and still. Vaguely, he made out the outline of a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven, curled up on the bed.
It seemed unlikely, he thought, his eyes adjusting finally to the brightness. It seemed unlikely that such a tiny thing could have restored balance, could have pushed back the darkness that had nearly overwhelmed half the world.
Yet here she was, and the world had returned to its rhythms. The snow outside was proof of that.
As was the blue glow, he amended in his mind. The original glow of the tear had been visible all the way from New York, pulsating in the far northwest. Muggles had blamed it on some sort of inexplicable atmospheric phenomenon, but the wizarding community had seen it for what it was: devastating evidence of approaching chaos. Various organizations had investigated the glow, found it just outside a small city in southwestern Alaska, and determined that it had somehow increased magical activity a hundred-fold.
After its appearance, he spent years hunting down magical beasts that seemed to materialize up in the middle of city streets, dark wizards and witches with power previously thought unimaginable. He spent years, himself, benefiting from the sudden influx in power. Young witches and wizards had been unable to hide their abilities from their peers, their magic so suddenly powerful that the slightest movement betrayed it. Everything had been threatened. Their entire society had been compromised and the International Wizarding community was at a loss.
Then, suddenly, nothing. It had vanished without warning, and they spent months obliviating millions of muggles in North America and eastern Asia, had formed entire teams dedicated to erasing any trace of magic from their minds systematically.
He had been the first official to receive the report of this young girl, glowing an unearthly blue. He had been the first to hear the strange tale.
So here he was, gazing down on her in her rest. No one was sure whether she was alive or dead, or something horrifyingly stuck in between. Despite his training, he felt distaste at what he must do next. He turned to the girl's mother, and this time, she was looking at him, her mouth still pressed into that thin line and her eyes full of resignation.
She had contacted his organization. He had no idea how she'd found out about them, but here they were, and now she was facing the reality of what, exactly, she'd asked of him.
Tenzin was the only one who had access to enough resources to possibly save her while still protecting her from the people hunting her. Even now, rumors circulated about the girl, but the large groups of muggles kept magical journalists away from the scene.
"Wait until the night," she said, her shoulders tensing as she crossed her arms. "That crowd has been there for days, trying to get word of what's going on and leaving food. It's been hard keeping the muggle doctors away. I'm sure there's a wizard or two in disguise out there. If we walk out of here with her now, you'll just have to obliviate them."
Resigning himself to battling the elements on his way out, he nodded his head once. "And the light? How often does she…?" He trailed off, looking back at the girl, unable to decide how to describe the effect.
"Only when someone enters the room, it seems. Well, only when a witch or wizard enters the room."
For once, he felt curiosity tingle in his bones. A mystery. He had always liked puzzles. And he had a favorite theory about this one, too, though he kept it mostly to himself. No need to make waves back at headquarters.
He left the room as he had come: stooping, his mind full of questions that could not be answered, concealing his wand and pouches from the muggles with practiced ease. Later, he would return in the silence of the night. The girl's mother would be waiting, her mouth still thin and her calm composure cracked with the trembling of her hands.
"She's been waiting for a letter to school. She was so excited to travel somewhere new," her mother would say softly. Her husband would stand in the background, silently watching, his jaw squared against an invisible enemy.
He would nearly say, "We'll take care of her," but he stopped himself. It would be a promise he couldn't keep.
So instead the tall man would leave with a handful of letters shoved into his hand and the sound of a desperate, keening breath ringing in his ears as the woman leaned into the blue light to say farewell to her only child.
"Goodbye, Korra."
The memory would haunt Tenzin for the rest of his life. He would return with the child frequently, but always under the cover of night, always briefly, for her protection—and for the organization's own purposes.
And, for the rest of his life, he would try to make up for it. Somehow.
It was the first crack in his training.
Their arrival in New York City was leaked to the press. Tenzin shouldn't have been surprised, but he felt frustrated nonetheless, clutching watery coffee in one hand and a tabloid in the other. The waiting room was quiet in the early hours, and he savored the brief moment of respite before the healers began bombarding him. With little else to do, he scanned the article.
THE GIRL WHO DIED?
Many decades after the heroic defeat of Voldemort at the hands of The Boy Who Lived, the Wizarding World was rocked by a new magical catastrophe. For reasons yet unknown, a mysterious beacon of light erupted in Alaska, bringing with it a surge in magical power and making it difficult for wizards and witches to stay hidden. The Magical Congress worked round the clock to defeat dark wizards and creatures.
Several months ago, however, it all stopped. The Magical Congress has insisted they don't know the reason for stopping it. Are they telling us everything they know?
There was a big, moving picture of a battle that seemed eerily familiar. When he squinted, he was able to make out the small form of Korra darting around spells in the background.
The fighting was the worst near the tear. No one knows why, but some suspect the tear was intentionally caused by people with ulterior motives, having spotted some dark wizards wearing faceless masks. We have no record of any such wizards at this time.
Rumors have spread that a young local girl, upset at the fighting, approached the tear and leaped into it. According to several sources who wish to remain anonymous, she appeared to have vanished entirely for several days before reappearing at the site of the now-closed tear, apparently dead. But when she was approached, a strange and powerful magic kept most people away.
So where is she now? What happened? There are several conflicting stories, but a source spotted a mysterious man in Alaska. Another source saw the same man conversing with medical professionals in New York. The Magical Congress denies any affiliation with the man. Who is he? What is the Congress hiding? Is he a dark wizard? Is The Girl Who Died with him?
Sighing, he tossed aside the paper. They had enough information to make his job difficult. His superiors would not be pleased.
A nearby receptionist called for him. He abandoned his watery coffee and approached the desk, where he was handed a gold letter. Already knowing its contents, he nonetheless opened it and read through the elaborate calligraphy.
"Where is the post room?" he asked.
Minutes later, he was tying a letter to a pigeon's leg. He frowned at it, unhappy with the letter, feeling it was inadequate and forced, but knowing he had little choice. He set the bird down, and it immediately pressed itself through a hinged panel in the wall and leaped out into the gray afternoon. Leaning into a nearby window, he watched it disappear into the low fog. The tall buildings of the city stood as silent sentinels in the early morning.
Tenzin knew it would be several days before his mother got his note.
They'd placed them in a house in the hills in Massachusetts, far enough from town that the locals wouldn't notice them and far enough from any cities that the wizarding presses would not be alerted.
The drawback was, of course, that there was little to do.
Tenzin sat on the porch and watched the sun come over the distant trees. He wondered what the muggles thought, looking into their natural world, where no magical beasts roamed and their pigeons primarily stayed grounded, where the best one could do to heal was to cut someone open and sew them closed again.
Inside, he could hear the light footsteps of his mother, hurrying about the living room. The house had come equipped with all of the magical supplies she would need. Rare plants, potions, and ingredients lined the walls. Sometimes, he was grateful for his superiors' foresight.
Sometimes.
His mind wandered to the young girl lying huddled in the house. The blinds were drawn, but he could still see the eerie blue glow from outside. He thought of her parents, too, wondering what they were doing, wondering if they had heard she had been in New York.
Every so often, his ears still rang with her mother's final words: "Goodbye, Korra."
Tenzin wondered what kind of child Korra was.
Tenzin wondered if he would ever find out.
It had taken his mother a few days to come down from Canada, and she had been delayed by the increased security at the border. Eventually, though, they'd let her through, realizing exactly who she was.
For the past few years, his mother had been on the forefront of the tear, treating thousands of casualties with efficiency and care. Soon, his superiors had contracted her for her expertise—her knowledge of magical plants and herbs and her natural gift for potions were so great that she seemed the only one able to heal the injuries faced by the organization.
She had resented him for it, in the end, had resented being used like a tool for a group of people she wasn't sure she supported, entirely, a group of people she sometimes still blamed for the loss of his father.
It was the first time he'd seen or talked to her in months, and he felt awkward and adolescent under the scrutiny of her stern gaze.
"Involving children in your plots now?" she'd said when they met in front of the house. The bitterness in her voice had stung.
"She will attend school like any other witch or wizard," he'd replied, eyes averted. "But there is much more going on here than anyone could imagine. We must keep her safe and secluded until she is under the protection of the school in a year."
For a moment, she'd studied him, the lines in her face more pronounced during her frown. Then she softened slightly, and she turned away. "I know—even if you can't tell me the details. Poor child," she'd murmured, peering into the blue light.
Tenzin frowned at the memory. Something seemed…off about his mother, now that he'd thought about it. Her uncharacteristic relenting, her immediate interest in Korra…
His reverie was interrupted by Katara's voice.
"She's awake."