Harry expected that when he and Azula left the Fire Lord's chambers, Azula would've gone right back to normal, snapping at him because his very presence annoyed her. He figured that when they were out of the presence of the Firinian palace guards, she would've relinquished her prim and proper façade and delve straight into making snappy comebacks to whatever he said. Out of all the things he expected, what he wasn't betting on was her silence.

From the moment they were no longer in the presence of the Fire Lord, Azula had been quiet, allowing Harry to drag his own luggage behind him in complete quiet. This time, the duo took a different series of turns to get to another set of doors. Pushing them open, Azula hurried past, barely holding the doors open for Harry. The latter huffed, but really shouldn't have been expecting too much kindness from the Slytherin royal.

"Where are we going?" Harry breathed out, the exhaustion from dragging two large suitcases behind him finally taking its toll, "We've been walking for forever."

"Don't be so dramatic, Harry." Azula scolded without turning around, her pace never slowing, "We're taking the stairs now, only one flight up."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. Did she really expect him to walk up the stairs with his heavy luggage? Judging by her lack of hesitation, the answer was obvious to him.

"You can't really be expecting me to climb stairs with these." Harry gestured wildly to his luggage. Surely, Azula had lost her mind. The girl in question raised a brow, already having taken five steps up a fifteen-step staircase.

"Did you expect me to help?" Azula scoffed, shaking her head patronizingly, "I'm a princess, not a peasant. I don't do manual labor."

With a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, Azula continued up the flight of stairs, turning around to face him as she reached the very last one. She was staring him expectantly, and Harry, for the millionth time that day, questioned why he decided to be in her debt.

Steeling his shoulders, Harry lifted one of the suitcases into his hand by the side handle, walking up the stairs as swiftly as he could. Sensing that Azula wasn't going to move a muscle to help him, Harry sighed, running back down the stairs to retrieve his remaining piece of luggage before returning to Azula's side, taking a firm hold of both suitcase handles. He gave Azula a non-genuine smile.

"Happy?" The sarcasm in Harry's tone couldn't be any clearer.

As Harry expected, Azula smirked at him, her arms folded loosely over her chest.

"Ecstatic." Azula murmured in reply, turning on her heel and beginning to walk once more. Harry, as he had been doing the entire day, followed her, "Obviously, the living quarters can't be on the first floor. That's just begging for assassins to come in."

It was official – Azula was the most paranoid individual he'd ever met. The brunette Slytherin seemed to be of the impression that everyone was out to get her, and Harry didn't know who'd hurt her so badly that she had such a negative view of the world. He had a vague idea, but didn't want to make the assumption until he had more proof.

So lost in his own thoughts, Harry didn't realize that they had walked inside what looked to be a bedroom. It was a rational assumption to make, if only because of the crimson-colored bed resting near a wall towards the end of the room. Next to the bed was a single box, sealed tightly with tape.

"This is where you'll stay." Azula informed him mechanically, gesturing briefly around the room, "If you think you'll have any questions, don't."

As Harry looked around the room, he could just barely see nails in the wall, large enough for picture frames to fit. In the furthest corner of the room, resting haphazardly on the floor, was an unmistakable Gryffindor scarf. Harry furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Whose room is this?" Harry thought aloud, despite the fact that Azula had just told him not to ask her any questions.

The sharp look she gave him in return said that she had the same thought. Regardless, she sighed, surprisingly not chewing his head off for his disobedience.

"It was Lu Ten's a few years ago, but he's dead now." Azula murmured, shaking her head, "I was thinking of having you stay in Zuzu's old room, but that requires actually going in there, and I have no desire whatsoever to do so."

Azula's answer only raised more questions in Harry's mind. Who was Lu Ten? Was he another brother to Azula? Was he the owner of the Gryffindor scarf?

"Tell me about him." Harry found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Azula gave him a strange look, and Harry was convinced that she wasn't going to humor him. He wouldn't have been surprised if she didn't. It was, after all, a weird question to ask someone who he wasn't even friends with. The Slytherin girl walked over to the lone box in the room, completely silent as she used one of her sharp fingernails to rip through the tape on the box. At the very top was a single photograph, one Azula carefully picked up before walking back to Harry.

He glanced at the picture, making out three figures: two males and a lone female. Only their side profiles were visible, but from the top-knot on the female figure, Harry knew that he was looking at a younger Azula. He guessed that the smaller of the two male figures was Zuko, but what struck him as odd was the fact that he didn't have his scar. Harry couldn't imagine what Zuko would look like without his scar; it seemed like such a permanent fixture in the elder Gryffindor's life, much like Harry's scar was in his own life. He noticed that the picture version of Azula wore a carefree grin, most likely laughing gleefully as she was chased by Zuko and another male. They appeared to be in some field of sorts, and from the little Harry had seen of the Fire Nation so far, he couldn't imagine that this picture had been taken in the volcanic country.

"This," Azula pointed to the unknown male in the picture, "was my cousin Lu Ten, Uncle Iroh's son. He was thirteen years my senior, and the only non-disgraceful Gryffindor in my family. At least with him, he was sorted into Gryffindor because he was brave, and not a full-blown traitor like his father and Zuko."

"How did he die?" Harry asked quietly.

Azula said nothing for a while, a deep frown etched into her features. Harry was afraid that he'd gone too far in his line of questioning when Azula sighed again. She showed no emotion other than the frown on her face, but when she answered, Harry was surprised that she was even dignifying him with a response.

"Fighting for the Fire Nation." Azula pursed her lips, eyes conflicted, "He knew how to serve his country, unlike uncle, who backed out when the going got tough. He was a true hero. It's Uncle Iroh who should've died."

With that, Azula became quiet once more, fixating her gaze on the photo once more. All of Harry's future attempts to get her attention failed. The Firinian princess seemed more interested in whatever thoughts were currently invading her mind.

"Put me down, Lu!" A five-year-old Azula shrieked, beating her tiny fists on the back of her eighteen-year-old cousin, Lu Ten, "You're gonna drop me!"

The man in question shook his head, shoulder-length black hair shaking with the motion. He spun the two of them around, occasionally throwing Azula into the air, eliciting pleased shrieks in return.

"No can do, Princess Azula." Azula could tell without looking at Lu Ten that the older Firinian royal was grinning, "Princesses can't let their feet touch the ground, so I'm gonna protect you from the dirty ground."

Azula wrapped her arms around Lu Ten's shoulders, anchoring herself so she no longer felt as if she were about to be dropped at any moment. The older royal only tightened his hold on Azula, lifting her higher by her underarms so he could make eye contact with her.

"Besides." Lu Ten continued, a knowing smirk on his face, "I seem to recall a certain Firinian princess telling me that I was weak. What better way to showcase my strength than by lifting her up, hm?"

Azula shook her head rapidly, wriggling in her cousin's hold.

"You can't hold my words against me." Azula protested weakly, kicking her legs out, "I'm five."

Lu Ten shifted his embrace so he was now hugging Azula, a luxury that Azula really only let him have. Her parents and grandfather never hugged her. Uncle Iroh's wife – Ruka – died before she was born. Uncle Iroh himself was always focused on her brother Zuko, and the latter was a mother's boy, through and through.

"Royalty must always be held accountable for their words and actions." Lu Ten insisted sagely, "That's what dad tells me, at least."

At the mention of her Uncle Iroh, Azula's smile immediately left her face, replaced with a harsh scowl. At the tender age of five, Azula couldn't say for certain that she hated anyone, but she just knew that she really, really disliked her uncle. Lu Ten, sensing Azula's newfound rigid body posture, moved so he was carrying her in one arm.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong." Azula could never fool Lu Ten with her emotions. No matter how stoic she thought she was being, her older cousin was always able to know when something was amiss.

Azula let out a heavy sigh, one that would've been called dramatic had she been older, but suited her age perfectly.

"I don't like your father." Azula was blunt. From a young age, her father had instilled in her the value of being direct with people. It wouldn't do to play mind tricks. They were a waste of time, and thus, beneath her.

Lu Ten cocked his brow, and the look prompted Azula to explain herself..

"He doesn't like me anyways." Azula elaborated.

"What makes you say that?" Lu Ten was frowning now, and his serious countenance caused the wrong sort of butterflies to swarm about in Azula's stomach. She didn't want the only person in the world who she actually liked (even more than her own father at times) to stop loving her because she wasn't a fan of his father.

"Because," Azula emphasized the word, "he only plays with Zuko. That means he cares about him more than me, just like mom." Azula paused, "I don't like her either. She's always yelling at me. I can't do anything right to her."

Lu Ten's frown got deeper, and he even relinquished his hold on her, setting her gently on the ground. Though she had initially protested Lu Ten lifting her up, Azula instantly felt the loneliness setting in, wanting nothing more than for her cousin to hold her again. At least then, he wouldn't be mad at her.

"My father and your mother love you very much." Lu Ten said firmly, bending down so they were on the same eye level, "I know they show it differently, but that's just because…"

Lu Ten trailed off, unsure how to continue, and it only proved Azula's theory right. Her mother and uncle hated her.

"See?" Azula exclaimed, "Even you can't come up with a reason why they like me, so obviously, they don't care about me."

"Stop saying that. It's not true." Lu Ten insisted, shaking his head, "They just have a bad way of showing it with you, but you know who does love you the most?"

Azula tapped her chin in thought.

"My dad?"

"No." Lu Ten laughed, shaking Azula slightly and prompting the younger girl to let out a reluctant laugh, "But I suppose he's pretty high up there. I was talking about me!"

"You?" Azula echoed quietly.

"That's right." Lu Ten declared, the earnest look in his eyes emphasizing his words, "I'll always love you lots."

Azula narrowed her eyes skeptically. The only person who really told her that they loved her was her father. While she believed his sentiments, it didn't escape her notice that his telling her he loved her usually succeeded her doing something right. If she made a mistake, he scolded her, unlike her mother – Ursa – who would constantly coddle her brother Zuko, even when he failed.

"You're not being serious." Azula crossed her arms over her chest indignantly, as best as she could with her cousin's hands still on her shoulders, "Everyone likes Zuko more, and you know it. They just pretend to like me so they won't upset dad."

Lu Ten again shook his head, and Azula didn't understand why her cousin was trying so hard to convince her.

"I don't love Zuko more." Lu Ten murmured, "I love you both equally, but I'll always have a soft spot for you."

"Really?"

"Duh." And the colloquial word that left Lu Ten's lips caused Azula to giggle, "You're my baby cousin. You're one of the coolest people I know."

"One of?" Azula scoffed.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Lu Ten gave her a charming smile, "But the point remains, you never have to doubt that I love you. Even when it feels like the whole world is against you," Azula's brows furrowed in confusion. The phrase sounded weird to her, "I will always be here for you."

Azula took a moment to ponder her cousin's words. She still had her doubts about the whole situation, but didn't like the funny feeling it caused to settle in her chest. She'd much rather be playing with Lu Ten again, without all the serious talk.

She was still five, after all.

"I thought you said princesses weren't allowed to touch the ground." Azula changed the subject abruptly, giving her cousin a mocking glare, "What kind of prince are you? And you expect to be Fire Lord someday?"

Lu Ten stared at her for a while, a contemplative expression on his face. He said nothing, rubbing at the area on his face where his traditional Firinian goatee was supposed to be. He seemed to have come to some sort of a conclusion, because the next thing Azula knew, she was being hoisted into the air.

"I'll always be ready to serve my princess!" Lu Ten yelled dramatically, lifting Azula until she was perched comfortably on his shoulders, "I will never let you down."

As Azula reflected on one of the many times she'd spent with Lu Ten, she came to realize one thing. He didn't keep his promise. He went off to war, got himself killed, and left her all alone, with no family truly on her side. Her father came close to filling the hole that Lu Ten had left, but it still wasn't the same.

She briefly registered Potter staring at her strangely, and she didn't know how long she'd been spaced out in her thoughts. Pasting a sneer on her face, Azula stared right back at him in the most intimidating manner she could achieve.

"Get yourself sorted out quickly." Azula sniffed in disdain, turning on her heel as she moved to leave Harry's current room – Lu Ten's room – "I have plans for today."

With no further explanation, Azula left Harry alone, trying in vain to rid herself of the empty feeling that arose within her.

"Ty Lee, this is the boy who's spending the last two weeks of summer with my father and I at the palace – Harry Potter." Azula explained in boredom as she gestured to Harry. When she first thought of how she'd be able to see Ty Lee before she left for the circus, she had no idea that she'd be dragging Harry along with her. Now that the individual details of her plan had come together, she realized that her father would be incensed if she left Harry at the palace by his lonesome. She could've suggested that he stay with her Gryffindor classmate in an effort to get to know him better, but she understood her father well enough to know that he did things in his own time, "Harry, this is my good friend Ty Lee."

Azula knew beforehand that Ty Lee was the touchy-feely type of person. She herself had been hugged tightly by the pink-wearing girl when she arrived at the palace, but she hadn't expected the girl to practically pounce on Harry.

"You're such a cutie!" Ty Lee squealed, holding Harry close to her. The emerald-eyed boy's eyes widened in shock, and he didn't appear to know what to do with his hands, "It's so good to meet one of Zula's magic friends."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he gingerly hugged Ty Lee back.

"Zula?" He mouthed, and Azula made a slicing motion across her throat in reply. Louder, Harry said, "You don't have magic, Ty Lee?"

Ty Lee pulled away from him, her long braid swinging as she shook her head.

"Duh." Somehow, the word coming from Ty Lee's mouth wasn't as charming as when Lu Ten said it many years ago, "But I do have knowledge of the body's chakras. Wanna see?"

Harry blinked.

"Chakras?" He echoed.

Azula rolled her eyes. For the savior of the wizarding world, Harry was pretty unknowledgeable.

"Think of pressure points." Azula clarified, "She knows how to damage your…magic via pressure points. Makes sense?"

Harry still appeared confused, but rather than voicing his remaining uncertainties, he nodded.

"Good." Ty Lee clapped her hands before turning to Azula, "I like your boyfriend, Zula. He makes me feel smart."

Azula's nose scrunched up in disgust. She would never date Harry, and the reasons were practically endless:

She had morals.

She had way more ambition than him.

He would stick out like a sore thumb in the Fire Nation.

She was almost twelve, and cared not for romantic relationships at this point in her life.

He could never keep up with her.

She was a lot smarter than him.

He kept terrible company.

He was weaker than her.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Harry's stunned exclamation brought Azula out of her mental list of reasons why she'd never date him, "That's repulsive."

Despite not wanting anything past a platonic relationship with the Gryffindor, Azula was still offended. She was many things, but repulsive was far from one of them.

"How dare you." Azula hissed, producing a flame in her left hand as she grabbed the naïve boy by collar of his temporary Firinian robes, "Why don't I show you how repulsive –"

"Zula, no!" Ty Lee squeaked, and before Azula knew it, her friend's thumb was jabbing into the skin just below the bend of her elbow. Almost immediately, the area went limp, a vague tingling sensation preceding pure numbness. Betrayed, Azula turned her golden eyes towards the culprit.

"You betrayed me." Azula's tone was accusatory, emphasized by her narrowed eyes.

In the background, Harry was watching the interaction between the Firinian girls with barely concealed shock. It was more likely than not that he had never seen anyone disarmed as quickly as Azula was disarmed by Ty Lee.

Ty Lee's hands shook frantically as they rested on Azula's shoulders.

"Please don't be mad, Zula." Again with the nickname, "I just didn't want you to hurt him, is all. Didn't you say that your father –"

Anger momentarily forgotten, Azula unceremoniously covered Ty Lee's mouth with her non-paralyzed hand. She couldn't have her (at times) ditzy friend relay everything she had been told about the Fire Lord's intentions with Harry. Harry was known among their graduating class for having absolutely no filter, and if her father found out that Harry knew of his plans, well, Azula's prospects wouldn't look good.

Ty Lee, having gotten Azula's hint, stopped talking, but Azula should've known better than to think Harry would drop the matter entirely.

"What does your father want with me?" Harry crossed his hands over his chest, indignance radiating off him in waves at the thought of being led into a trap.

Azula made her features impassive and shrugged, removing her hand from Ty Lee's mouth.

"He wants to have dinner with you alone in a few days." Azula said casually, betraying no emotion other than total indifference, "Three days before the termination of your visit, if my memory serves me."

Harry didn't look like he believed her, and opened his mouth, – most likely to refute Azula's claim – but Ty Lee beat him to it.

"I suppose the two of you wouldn't work out after all." Ty Lee mused, her tone uncharacteristically reflective, "Harry's aura is too orange, while yours is more of a red mixed with gray, Zula."

Azula rolled her eyes. Leave it to her friend to bring up auras. The girl was entirely too focused on nonsensical things most of the time, but she was internally grateful for the subject change.

"And besides," Ty Lee continued, "you'd be better suited with a person whose aura is the inverse of yours. Less red and more grays."

Azula didn't bother trying to understand what her friend was saying, – she was too used to her rants about character traits – but Harry seemed as if he were genuinely trying to understand her. She shook her head, a wry smile on her face. Typical Gryffindor, always had to get to the bottom of everything.

"Leave her be." Azula advised him, "You're not going to get it. Anyways, how about we play a game?"

Though her tone was sweet, Harry's eyes narrowed. He appeared not to trust her judgment in games, but Ty Lee was on her side.

"Zula makes up the best games." Ty Lee insisted, "One time, when Zuko was still here, she put an apple on Mai's head and set the stem on fire. She has amazing aim." Ty Lee frowned for a moment before her cheery demeanor returned, "Why don't you hold the apple this time, Harry?"

"Absolutely not." Harry's answer was immediate, and Azula wasn't really surprised. Still, she wasn't going to miss an opportunity to make him quake in his shoes.

"I agree, Ty." Azula smiled, clasping her hands in front of her in a mock display of innocence, "You're my guest. You just have to trust my aim."

"You attend school with my daughter." Fire Lord Ozai murmured quietly to Harry over a private dinner. The two were alone in the palatial dining room, no guards, servants, or Azula to disturb them, and Harry immediately disdained the awkward air between them.

Harry carefully swallowed a piece of his mongoose-lion meat, observing that it tasted suspiciously like chicken. He still didn't know what a mongoose-lion was, and made a mental note to ask Azula what it was the next time he saw her.

"Yes, sir." When addressing Professor Snape as sir, Harry couldn't help but use an underlying note of sarcasm, but he got the feeling that addressing Ozai in such a manner would end very, very badly for him, "I got sorted into Gryffindor house."

At the mention of the house of the brave, Ozai's lips turned downwards, his expression sour. He went from complete neutrality to looking as if there was nothing more he wanted to do than strike Harry down from where he was sitting. Still, Ozai continued eating, pausing briefly to take a sip of what seemed to be red wine, though considering the fact that mongoose-lion meat was an actual thing, his beverage could've had some other strange name.

"I see." Ozai pursed his lips, "And Azula has told me that you've both had your first set of exams. How did you fare?"

Ozai's line of questioning could almost be considered paternal, but there was something menacing about how he was speaking. He recalled Ty Lee's slip up from a few days, and while the pink-clad girl was an oddity herself, he was convinced that the Fire Lord had some sinister motivation for wanting to meet with him.

"I did alright, sir." Harry answered, careful to keep strong eye-contact with the Firinian leader, "I'm sure Azula did better, but I did well enough to advance to second year."

Truth be told, he didn't remember much about the grades he received – he was too busy trying to fend off Lord Voldemort for the whole year. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to mention Azula's academic performance, but it probably had something to do with the hand-shaped imprint on her face the first day he saw her that summer.

"I am aware of my daughter's proficiency." Ozai said coldly, standing up from the table, Harry quickly following suit, "You will demonstrate your magical ability to me, and I will critique it."

"With all due respect sir, why?" Harry asked, "We're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. The Ministry will get involved and…"

Harry let himself trail off at the stern glance Ozai was giving him. He got the feeling that he wouldn't like whatever consequence would befall him if he continued to speak.

"When I give an order, you are to carry it out with no questions asked." Ozai stepped around the table and walked over to where Harry was standing. The green-eyed boy felt his heart race in anticipation, and though he longed to say something in return, the rational side of him kept him quiet. Hermione would be proud, "I once told my disappointment of a son that he would learn respect, and suffering would be his teacher. If you don't want to learn the same lesson, I suggest you learn fast."

A mental image of Zuko's scar raced across Harry's mind and he shuddered. He didn't doubt that Ozai would hit him if he deemed him out of line. If he could banish a son and strike a daughter, what would stop him from harming someone he wasn't even related to? The only people who could possibly help him out of his predicament were in Britain, and he had no way of contacting any of them for the next few days. Maybe the usage of underage magic would alert the Ministry?

"Oh, and the Ministry has no power here." Ozai's words dashed all of Harry's remaining hope, "The Fire Nation, as a country with its own form of magic, has a different set of rules that have been in place since my grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, ruled."

With a sigh, Harry looked up at the Fire Lord, shifting his gaze between the tyrannical man and the nearest exist. He calculated how long it would take him to run to the doors and leave the room, but realized several flaws with his semi-plan:

The Fire Lord was a grown man, and most definitely faster than Harry. He would be flayed before he even properly left the table.

There were guards stationed outside of the dining room. If the Fire Lord didn't get to him, they certainly would.

If he managed to evade both the guards and the Fire Lord, he'd probably run into Azula knowing his luck, and she'd drag him back to her father.

If by some miracle, he escaped the Firinian palace, where would he go?

"I feel it appropriate to warn you, sir." Harry cautiously pointed his wand at Ozai, "I don't know that many spells."

At Ozai's menacing grin, Harry got the sinking feeling that he shouldn't have divulged that bit of information.

Hours later, a severely bruised Harry Potter sat on a bed in the medical wing of the Firinian palace. He didn't know when he'd been knocked out, but felt as if he had been run over by an 18-wheeler…and then abandoned on a burning stove. He was almost certain that a few of his ribs were broken too.

As he thought of the events of the past few hours, he vaguely recalled a blurry image of the Fire Lord standing over him, a blazing fire in his hands, reflected in his hateful golden eyes.

"I see you're awake." Harry knew that voice anywhere.

Azula had decided to grace him with her presence, perched carefully on the edge of the bed.

"You don't look that bad, considering." Azula mused, handing a pocket-sized mirror to Harry.

Once Harry looked at his reflection, he gasped, utterly appalled. His face was swollen, left eye black. There were various cuts and bruises on his face, and if it wasn't for his signature lightning-bolt scar, he wouldn't have recognized himself. He looked back up at Azula, who was staring at him expectantly.

"I don't look that bad?" He asked her incredulously. Had she even taken a proper look at his face?

Azula snorted, and Harry couldn't understand what she found so funny. She got up and approached him, lifting his chin with a single finger. She observed him silently, nodding to herself.

"Not bad at all." Azula murmured, though she seemed to be speaking to herself, "He asked me to heal you. Only magic would heal these kinds of injuries in time for school. You're lucky he's letting you heal properly. It could've been a lot worse."

Azula dropped his face suddenly and moved towards the door of the room, not looking back at him once. A sudden thought dawned on Harry, and he found himself asking her a question before he could fully think it through.

"Has he done worse than this…to you?"

Harry didn't miss how Azula's whole body stiffened as she stopped walking. She whirled around to face him, and a torrent of emotions was swirling in her eyes. He couldn't read the expression on her face, but knew without her saying a word that he wasn't going to get an answer to his question.

"I'm going to get some paste to put on your burns." Azula said acidly, and any trace of niceness that had been in her eyes the whole summer was gone, replaced with the Azula he first met, "We're going school shopping tomorrow, and you need to look your best."

With that, Azula spun on her heel and walked out of the room, letting the door slam behind her. A profound sense of sadness welled up within Harry, and he, once again, was left with more questions than answers.