"You know, for a self-proclaimed quidditch god, you're pretty bad at this." Astoria Greengrass laughed as she circled Draco on her broom. She and the Malfoy heir had been practicing their quidditch skills, as Draco wanted to try out for the Slytherin quidditch team during the upcoming school year. His father told him that if he kept his grades up, he could earn a spot on the team, but he wasn't so sure if his father would keep his word. After all, he was still upset with him for refusing to denounce his friendship with Azula Ryland.
Rather than taking Astoria's words in stride, Draco scoffed, crossing his arms as he hovered on his own broom without the aid of his hands. He just knew that he'd be perfect for the role of Slytherin seeker, especially since Augustus Sykes, who previously occupied the position, graduated last year.
"Just toss the snitch again, yeah?" Draco said.
Astoria, ever amused, shrugged, throwing the snitch into the air, watching leisurely as it took a second to get a feel of its wings before darting around furiously. Immediately, Draco set after it, determined to catch the snitch before Astoria this time. Unable to shield his eyes from the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, Draco cursed himself for not remembering to wear his goggles. Still, he pursued the snitch, gritting his teeth in intense concentration as it managed to evade him every time he was about to catch it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Astoria attempting to fly after the snitch as well. Not that he would ever admit it to her, but the raven-haired girl was a formidable seeker. If she had been a year older, she would have made for some serious competition for the role of Slytherin seeker. Out of the last nine trials they'd had, Astoria had managed to catch the snitch seven of those times. It was for that reason that he couldn't let her beat him again. He didn't know if she'd ever let him live it down.
Just as Draco was about to finally catch the snitch, feeling the tiny prop's wings just barely fluttering against his hand, the forsaken thing shot straight upward, once again evading Draco's fierce attempts. He hadn't been the only one to miss the snitch, however. He could vaguely see a dark blur approaching him at top speed, and knew instantly that it was Astoria. With wide eyes, Draco jerked himself to the side, desperate to avoid another collision (they had already knocked each other out the sky earlier that day, and Draco didn't want a repeat of the almost concussion he suffered. Luckily for the two of them, they hadn't been too high in the sky).
Unlike Draco, Astoria didn't swerve out of the way. Instead, she grabbed her broom tightly and abruptly pointed it upward, positioning herself so that she was perpendicular to the makeshift quidditch field. Squinting against the brightness in the air, Draco tried to follow her, inching closer and closer until Astoria's leg was in reach. He knew he was playing foully, but at this point, he didn't care. Latching onto her foot, Draco pulled, not hard enough to cause her to fall off her broom, but with enough force that she, in theory, would lose whatever momentum she had been building. What surprised him was that she let him, looking down at him with an easy smile as she allowed one of her slippers to fall to the ground. He stared at her, puzzled, trying to understand why she would relent to him so easily when he got his answer.
She already had the snitch.
Thinking obscenities that he would rarely voice, Draco descended towards the location of the fallen slipper. He had given up his fruitless pursuit of the already captured quidditch prop. By the time he had reached the ground, Astoria had taken to performing aerial tricks, looping her body through the air with ease. Once she noticed that he wasn't going to fly back up, Astoria grinned mockingly at him.
"What's the matter, Drakie?" Draco regretted ever telling Astoria of Pansy's horrendous term of endearment for him, "Giving up already?"
Draco waved her off, not deeming it necessary to give her a verbal response. She had already won. What more did she want from him? He watched as she, too, descended, hair blowing behind her in the slight breeze.
"I think you ought to consider being a chaser instead, Draco." Astoria suggested to him once she had gotten off her broom, draping her arm around his shoulder in a show of comradery, "It wouldn't do for the almighty heir of House Malfoy to lose his position as Slytherin seeker once I'm old enough to disgrace you."
"And who said you're better than me?" Draco asked redundantly. He already knew she was a better seeker than him, but didn't deem it in his best interest to let her know that he was aware of that fact. The smug look on Astoria's face let him know that he didn't have to.
"Besides, you don't even like being a seeker." Astoria continued, "Leave that to someone like Blaise. At least he's good at it."
Draco frowned.
"Whose side are you on here?"
"Yours, of course." Astoria rolled her eyes, as if the answer should've been obvious to Draco, "But I wouldn't be a good friend if I inflated your ego when I should've been truthful with you."
Draco contemplated her words silently. She was right. The snide part of him reminded him that she was usually right, but the stubborn side longed to fight her on the matter.
"It doesn't matter what I like to do." Draco sneered, "Father said he'd only let me play if I end up a seeker like him. Regardless of whether or not I'm a better chaser, or the fact that I prefer it to seeking, I'll never get Father's endorsement by trying to be a chaser."
Astoria let loose a chuckle, and as Draco frowned at her, her chuckles evolved into full-on laughter. Draco didn't see what was so funny about the situation.
"Draco, Draco, Draco." Astoria shook her head, immediately dispelling herself of whatever thoughts amused her, "You are singlehandedly the most stubborn person I've ever met."
"Excuse –"
"If you want to get on the Slytherin quidditch team, you don't need to use your father's name to achieve that goal." Astoria cut off Draco's indignant retort, "You're a Slytherin. You need to make Flint understand that you're the only self-preserving choice for him. Daphne told me that Tommy Ravenwood is considering stepping down as chaser this year, so now's your chance."
Draco took a moment to think about Astoria's words. The idea did sound appealing, but it wasn't often that he did things on his own without his father's influence. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure that he could pull it off. Astoria seemed to have the utmost faith in him, though, and he was grateful to have a friend like her.
"Look." Astoria placed a calming hand on his shoulder, hazel eyes gleaming earnestly, "Just promise me you'll at least think about it."
With a relenting sigh, Draco nodded. That much he could do.
"I promise."
Had anyone told Azula that she would be the passenger of a car, she would've laughed. She understood that the Fire Nation was a bit more archaic than the rest of the world in that they didn't use cars. Walking was preferred, and for the rare noble (but mainly royalty), palanquins could be arranged.
Had anyone told her that she would be in a flying car with Harry and three of the Weasley brothers, words couldn't even describe what she would've thought of them. The idea was preposterous, nonsensical, absolutely ridiculous, but as she stared wide-eyed out of the window of her guest room, she couldn't help but think that ever since she started Hogwarts, she'd ended up in some really crazy situations.
"Are you coming?" Harry yelled to her from the car, struggling to get his owl's cage in through the door. It didn't make sense for him to keep his voice hushed anymore. If the Dursleys hadn't been awake already, the noisy engine of the car definitely should've woken them up by now.
"We're bringing her?" The youngest male Weasley exclaimed in horror, staring at his green-eyed best friend in disbelief, "Harry, no."
Azula paid no attention to the redhead's rant. She didn't care whether or not he approved of her. If you asked her, he was being pretty ungrateful, considering all the times last year that she inadvertently saved his skin by helping Harry. Needless to say, if it would bother Weasley so much, then Azula had to go with them.
"Move over." Azula grunted with the effort of moving her suitcase into the strange automobile, deciding it was best if she held her own owl cage on her lap. Her owl, Sapphira, hooted in disgruntlement, unhappy with being shuffled about.
Reluctantly, the younger Weasley in the car moved over, making room for Azula to sit. The crashing of a door in the background told Azula that one of the Dursleys had woken up, most likely Vernon, as the obese man had a horrific temper.
"You get back inside right this instance!" Vernon bellowed, and a quick glance showed that the Dursley patriarch had reddened cheeks, a tell-tale sign of his anger. The man was scowling so deeply that Azula wondered how he hadn't already passed out from the strenuous effort of maintaining his façade of anger, "You listen to me, boy!"
One of the Weasley twins – Azula guessed that it was Fred – started up the car, evidenced by the loud sputtering it let out. Azula, having no prior experience with cars, was unsure of exactly what was happening, but apparently, Vernon did. His eyes wide, he made a desperate grab for the car door, nearly falling out of the window as he did so. The Weasley twin at the wheel of the car was cursing furiously under his breath, so Azula surmised that something was wrong with the vehicle's source of power. Understanding that he needed some kind of distraction for Harry's abusive uncle, Azula did the only thing that felt natural in the moment.
She firebended towards Vernon Dursley.
Predictably, Vernon stepped swiftly away from the window, falling flat on his backside in the effort to get away from the lethal blue flames. Just beyond Vernon, Azula could make out the silhouette of Dudley, hurriedly moving towards his father. Vernon, by now, was squealing miserably, Dudley trying in vain to comfort his father. Azula couldn't see what exactly the problem was, – it wasn't like she set the darn house on fire, though on second thought, she probably should have – but with Dudley's frightened scream, she became aware.
"Mummy!" Dudley shrieked, his voice panicked as he ran out of the room, "Dad's on fire! That freak set daddy on fire!"
It was only then that Fred Weasley was able to get the car to move, and while Azula wanted to reach out of the window and show Dudley exactly who the freak was, she took deep breaths to calm herself. There would be opportunities for revenge later. As soon as Azula had that line of thought, she winced. The possibility of future opportunities to get back at Dudley Dursley insinuated that she would have to stay with Harry for another summer. While nothing overtly terrible had occurred during the summer, and she managed to refrain from killing Harry, that didn't mean that she wanted this to be a habit.
Instead of dwelling on such unfortunate thoughts, Azula settled for looking out the window, astutely ignoring the conversation that went on around her.
Molly Weasley was a plump, motherly woman, Azula soon realized as she was pulled into as fierce of a hug as Harry was given. She awkwardly patted the woman's back, unused to physical signs of affection from anyone aside from Ty Lee. Within minutes, this woman proved to be a better mother than Azula's own mother. Granted, the bar was low, but the fact still remained. A young girl stood slightly behind her, blushing as she set her gaze on Harry. Azula assumed that this girl was Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley bunch. Draco occasionally mentioned her as one of the ridiculously large amount of Weasley children that would soon attend Hogwarts.
"Harry, dear, I'm so glad that you can spend the last two weeks with us before you return to Hogwarts." Molly cupped Harry's cheeks tenderly, just as a mother would. Azula looked away in disgust, ignoring the pang in her chest that told her that she would've loved to be touched in such a familial manner. The Weasley matriarch turned to her not long after, and it was the burn of her curious brown eyes that prompted Azula to turn around, "And you too – I'm sorry. I don't believe I caught your name."
"Azula Ryland." Azula answered shortly. She was determined to dislike this woman, if only for the fact that she reminded Azula of everything her own mother was not.
Molly hummed quietly to herself, looking up in deep thought.
"Ryland, hm?" Molly questioned, more so to herself than to anyone in particular, "I went to school for a time with Iroh Ryland, though he was a bit older. Would you happen to be related to him?"
Azula, pushing down her annoyance, sighed. Could she ever mention her last name without Uncle Fuddy Duddy being brought up?
"Unfortunately." Azula reluctantly confirmed, "He is my paternal uncle."
If Molly caught onto the coldly formal manner in which Azula spoke of her uncle, the only indication of it was the slight downturn in her eyebrows. Nevertheless, she wore a small smile.
"Regardless." Molly changed the subject, "Why don't you both make yourselves comfortable while I whip up some breakfast? Ginny and Ronald can show you to –"
"I'm afraid that won't be necessary." Azula gave her first smile of the day, though it wasn't a pleasant one. She turned to Harry expectantly, inwardly rejoicing as he sighed, taking a piece of paper out of his nightshirt. He apparently could keep a promise.
Weaselface frowned.
"What does she mean by that, Harry?"
Harry looked like he'd rather swallow horned slugs than break the news to his best friend and his family, but as he mentioned a month and a half ago, he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors kept their word. Clearing his throat theatrically, Harry read the note that he had procured:
Mr. Potter,
You have gained quite the reputation in the Wizarding World, and as such, have piqued my interest. I would like to get to know you better. Initially, I thought it would be best if my daughter, Princess Azula, spent the summer with you and your relatives. However, Azula brought to my attention that it would be more beneficial for all parties if you were to simply come to the Fire Nation to spend the last two weeks. If you are concerned about how to get here, there is no need to worry. The Floo network will suffice.
I expect that you will accept my gracious invitation.
Fire Lord Ozai
When Harry finished reading the letter, no one but Azula was smiling. Harry stared at her morosely, as if pleading with her to find some other way to cash in on his debt to her.
"A promise is a promise, Harry." Azula whispered saccharinely, in so quiet a tone that she was sure no one else could hear. Louder, she said, "So as you all can see, Harry will not be spending the rest of the summer with you. You may run into him while school shopping, but coincidences are so hard to come by."
Ginny Weasley looked so devastated that she could cry. The girl probably had a childish infatuation with Harry. The Weasley twins looked stunned, Harry despondent, and Molly crestfallen. Of all the possible reactions to her father's invitation, the one that amused her the most was the one courtesy of Ronald Weasley.
"You!" Weaselface was so livid that his face quickly resembled a tomato, "You can't just come here unwelcomed and –"
"Ron, it's okay." Harry swallowed thickly, and Azula mentally applauded him for his show of courage, "I already accepted Azula's father's offer, and I can't go back on a promise."
The look on Harry's face, however, showed that he desperately wished he could.
"A promise is a promise, Ron." Harry's words were directed towards Weaselface, but he was staring straight at Azula, "And I always keep my promises."
Azula didn't know who he was trying to convince more, – himself or her – but she didn't care. She would be going back to the Fire Nation, keeping her father happy, and be able to see Ty Lee for one last time all in one fell swoop. She couldn't care less about how others felt about it.
Draco didn't bother knocking on his father's study door, instead daring to walk in announced. He feared that if he hesitated, he would lose his nerve and forget his goal entirely. Astoria's words from earlier that summer rang in his ears, giving him the necessary courage to do what he was about to do. His father didn't even look up, opting to continue looking at the mass of paperwork on his desk. Amidst the work was a small, leather-bound black notebook that Draco hadn't seen before.
"Draco." Lucius acknowledged him, drawing his attention away from the book, "I'm very busy."
Those were the only words Lucius spoke, but Draco understood the underlying message: This had better be important.
"I thought that I'd inform you," Draco began, and the confidence in his tone prompted his father to finally look up, a questioning look in his eyes, "that while I still intend on joining the quidditch team this year, I will be trying out as a chaser, not a seeker."
Lucius was silent as he regarded Draco, tapping his fingers lightly against the mahogany desk he sat at. With each tap of his fingers, Draco's nerves became rattled, but he was determined to focus on the task at hand. He would not submit to his father's will.
"Is that so?" Lucius murmured, to which Draco gave him a firm nod, "Very well. I do not care what you do. I will provide the team with Nimbus 2001 brooms and a generous financial backing. Is that all you wanted to say, or do you intend on disrupting my day even more than you already have?"
Draco didn't know whether to laugh or scowl. His father's mood changes were mercurial at best; he never knew what to expect from the Malfoy patriarch. There was a part of him that wished that he approached his mother first. She was a lot more direct with him, and always had a way of getting Lucius to be less harsh with Draco. Still, Draco rationalized to himself that he needed to speak to his father specifically. If he didn't, his father would always walk all over him.
"You're…actually agreeing to this?" Draco had to be sure.
Lucius' previously expressionless face gave way to a frown.
"Would you like me to change my mind?"
"No!" Draco was quick to deny, "It's just…I didn't expect you to be so…"
Draco didn't know the adjective he wanted to use, but Lucius understood nonetheless.
"Thank your mother." Lucius was curt, offering no further explanation, and Draco would be sure to keep that in mind, "Anything else?"
Draco nodded to himself. That was one issue out of the way, but he figured that the next one wouldn't be as easy to work through. If the debacle at Kings Cross station had been any indication, his next order of business was unlikely to go well.
"Yes, actually." Draco confirmed, "About Azula Ryland…I'm not going to stop being her friend, Father."
Draco didn't linger on the topic, choosing to be brief with his words. He didn't want to speak at length and risk his father interrupting him. His chest seized in anxiety; he wasn't sure how his father was going to react and if the last time Azula's name was mentioned was any predictor, Draco would be spending the evening with the peacocks again. Rather than immediately lashing out, Lucius' hand flickered towards the black notebook before stilling itself. He frowned at his father's odd behavior, but thought nothing of it, too preoccupied with getting what he wanted.
"Very well." Lucius said, waving his hand dismissively, "You can have the Ryland girl as company. Do as you wish, but for Merlin's sake, leave me alone."
Draco didn't think twice, hurrying out of his father's study before the elder Malfoy could change his mind. He didn't miss his mother's knowing smile as he walked past her in the hallway on his way to his room, returning it with one of his own. If there was anyone he was truly grateful to have on his side in his life, it was his mother.
Opening his room door, Draco entered his private sanctuary, flopping lazily onto his bed. The tension that had been in his body prior to his discussion with his father had left him, leaving him in an almost sleepy state. What he wouldn't do for a pumpkin pasty right now.
"Dobby!" Draco called suddenly, hardly daring to blink as the Malfoy family house elf popped into his room, "Bring me some pumpkin pasties and butterbeer."
The house elf bowed as low as he could, his nose practically touching his knobby knees.
"Yes, Master Draco." Dobby's words were always rushed, and this time was no different, "Dobby will get what Master Draco orders of Dobby."
With that, Dobby disappeared as abruptly as he entered Draco's room, leaving Draco to think over his talk with his father. It wasn't every day that his father was in an agreeable mood. Usually, the elder Malfoy would state his argument in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving absolutely no room for further discussion. This time, however, he conceded to Draco letting him have what he wanted with no fuss at all. The behavior was strange, but not as strange as his father's focus on the black notebook on his desk. At the mention of Azula, his hand moved as if to touch it before becoming still.
There was a part of Draco that wanted to know what was so special about that book, and why hearing Azula's name had prompted his father to become even more interested in it. If he had been in a more productive mood, Draco probably would've thought about it some more, but as Dobby returned with his requested snacks, he couldn't be bothered.
"Thank you." Draco murmured without thinking, taking a bite of his desired snack.
Dobby's eyes widened, filling with tears. Draco replayed their interaction in his mind, and couldn't figure out what was making the house-elf so sentimental.
"Master Draco has never thanked Dobby before." Dobby cried, wringing his hands together, "Only Mistress Narcissa is kind to Dobby. Dobby always knew that Master Draco was kind. Dobby is grateful to have a master like Master Draco. Master Draco is –"
"Enough." Draco got tired of the elf's aggrandizing talk. With even wider eyes, Dobby's lips trembled, and he picked up the nearest heavy book.
"Dobby is sorry for annoying Master Draco. Dobby will punish Dobby. Dobby will –"
"Don't hit yourself; that's an order." Draco didn't understand why, but the thought of someone inflicting pain on themselves – house elf of not – didn't sit well with him, "Just leave me be."
"Oh thank you, Master Draco." Dobby squeaked out before remembering Draco's order, leaving the room with a quick snap of his fingers.
Left alone at last, Draco sighed in relief. He took another bite of his pumpkin pasty and grinned. He hadn't allowed himself to indulge in thepastry for far too long. With a mouth full of sweets and mind intent on using butterbeer to wash it down, Draco forgot all thoughts of Dobby, his father, Azula, and the small black notebook that occupied his father's desk.
Red and gold everywhere, the Fire Nation palace reminded Harry a lot of Gryffindor colors. He doubted he'd ever tell Azula that, though. Regardless of them being on civil terms, she'd probably flay him if he ever pointed out the similarities between her patriotic colors and the Gryffindor emblem.
Harry wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at the Firinian palace, but a nervous Azula definitely wasn't on the list. She was uncharacteristically silent as she led him down a series of spacious hallways, the latter twisting in a way that told Harry that he'd get lost if he ever tried to explore. Finally, they arrived at a large set of black-lined crimson doors, guarded by two men in some kind of armor. The red and black colors of the armor were enough to let Harry surmise that they were army personnel of sorts. They bowed to Azula, who said nothing to them in return.
"Princess Azula." The guards said in unison, stepping out of the way of the doors. They stared at Harry funnily, bodies ramrod stiff as they regarded him silently. Harry decided that the only reason they said nothing to him was that he was with Azula.
Azula turned back to glance at him briefly, nodding her head, before pushing open the doors, beckoning for Harry to follow her. He took in the large room before him, admiring the tall golden columns and dimly lit ambiance of the room. In one area of the room, there was a large map of worldly regions that Harry didn't know existed – The Water Tribe and The Earth Kingdom. Named elementally, Harry guessed that as people in the Fire Nation tended to firebend, people in the Water Tribe waterbended and the citizens of the Earth Kingdom earthbended.
Towards the very back of the room was a large throne, shrouded entirely in crackling orange flames. So high were the flames that they were lapping relentlessly at the ceiling, completely obscuring the figure who sat behind it.
Slowly, Azula led Harry towards the flame-encircled throne, her actions no longer as natural appearing as they once were. When they arrived in front of the flames, Azula bowed low, shooting a sharp glance at Harry; she expected him to do the same, and so he did. It was fairly awkward, as he never had to bow in front of anyone or anything before, but if Azula deemed it necessary, who was he to disagree with her in her homeland?
"Father." Azula said quietly, rising as Harry did, "I present to you Harry Potter."
Azula's formalities gave Harry a bad feeling, as he had never known the brunette girl to refer to him in such a polite manner. He figured that whoever her father was, he must've been really imposing to command such obedience from her.
Eventually, the high flames got lower, descending until a man could be seen from the waist up. Hawkish amber eyes, sharp jawline, and a cold countenance, this man had to be Azula's father. Evidently, it was he who Azula got her more intimidating characteristics from. The man rose at his own pace, the flames rising a bit with him, and Harry assumed that he was a firebender, just as Azula was.
"Welcome to the Firinian Palace, Mr. Potter." Azula's father clasped his hands together, and though he wore a smile on his face, Harry could tell it wasn't genuine, "I am Fire Lord Ozai. Azula has told me much about you."
Harry chanced a glance at Azula and by the confused look on her face, he could tell that she had done no such thing.
"I look forward to getting to know you better over the next two weeks." Ozai's smile stretched, and Harry could practically feel Azula stiffen from next to him, "Azula will show you to where you will inhabit."
At the sudden silence that had dawned on the trio, Harry realized that he was expected to speak.
"It, er, is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fire Lord." Harry inwardly cringed at how lame he sounded, "I look forward to the next two weeks as well."
At seeing Ozai's grin stretch, a sinking feeling arose in Harry's stomach. He turned to face Azula again and found that she was wearing an almost apologetic look on her face. Almost, because it was Azula he was talking about. They still weren't friends, so she had no reason to feel inclined to feel bad for him.
Still, as Harry looked back at Ozai's amused look, he couldn't help but wonder why the heck he had chosen to be a noble Gryffindor and keep his word.