Author's Note: I own nothing here except the plot, and made up characters. This story will begin with Draco and Azula receiving their Hogwarts acceptance letters, and end some time after the Battle of Hogwarts, with an epilogue following the central action. As that insinuates, it'll be a looooong journey, so I hope you'll stick with me throughout. Enjoy!

"Almost isn't good enough, Princess Azula."

Eleven-year-old Azula Ryland, the crown princess of the Fire Nation, gritted her teeth as sweat dripped down her brow. Her father, the esteemed Fire Lord Ozai, was teaching her the technique for producing lightning. Usually, when it came to firebending practice, Lo and Li, palace servants, were the ones who would assume the role of her tutors. However, with something as precarious as lightning generation, Ozai sought to give her his personal tutelage. She was hardly going to question her father's rare charitable mood.

A hair had fallen into Azula's face with her effort, which, to Ozai and Azula, was a sign of imperfection…and imperfection led to weakness. Unlike most other children her age, mistakes weren't acceptable for Azula. Mistakes were for commoners. Mistakes were for weak people.

Mistakes were for people like Zuko, and that in itself was a terrible thought.

Taking a deep breath, Azula cleared her mind once more and gathered her chi from deep within. With the utmost concentration, she set her sights on a precariously placed target several yards from her, exhaling as she pointed her finger towards…

Plop

With the feeling of a foreign object falling on her head, Azula startled, her distracted state causing her to be launched backwards as the release of her chi resulted in an uncontrolled explosion. Never before had she been so distracted that her attempt at mastering a firebending technique backfired so drastically, but as the seemingly impossible happened to her, a chill ran up her spine. Her father would not be pleased.

Chancing a glance at her father, Azula was surprised to see that he was staring at her with a neutral expression on his face. The situation could go one of two ways from there. For one, he could be luring her into a false sense of security before he reacted viciously, or – the rarer option – he could be secretly pleased. As he strode towards her, Azula resisted the urge to stiffen, neutralizing her facial features as much as possible.

"Well done, my prodigy." Her father murmured almost gently, smoothing down his daughter's partially unkempt hair, "You've finally done it."

Azula, though thoroughly confused, tried to avoid her inner sentiments from showing on her face. She remembered the last time she appeared uncertain before her father, and the end result hadn't been good for her. Never in her life had she felt as pathetic as Zuko, and she definitely didn't want a repeat of that incident.

"What exactly have…" She started before pausing. That sounded too unsure. She settled for the more confident response of, "Are you pleased Father?"

If Ozai had heard any sign of uncertainty in his daughter's voice, he ignored it well. Instead, he appeared almost amused by her, a sly smirk donning his features. His amusement, like his neutrality, was a dangerous thing, and Azula could never be too certain whether or not she would be on the beneficial side.

"What have I always reminded you of since your brother's disgraceful attempt at an Agni Kai?" Ozai questioned, staring pointedly at Azula. By his intense gaze, Azula knew that there was a right and a wrong answer to his query.

Pushing her nerves aside, Azula stood straighter. If anything, she absolutely loved hearing references to her brother's failures, and loved outshining Zuko's feeble accomplishments even more. With a contemplative look on her face, Azula recalled the tidbit of information that her father was seeking.

"Agni has blessed us, in his divine grace, with strength and power." Azula recited dutifully, the innate pride at being part of such a rich family history causing the corners of her mouth to rise in a self-satisfied smirk, "It is our destiny to use our gifts to spread the Fire Nation's message throughout the world."

Ozai nodded, a placated expression on his face. Bending down, he picked up a small piece of paper off of the ground, one Azula hadn't noticed before. With a small huff of annoyance, Azula realized that the paper must have been the object that assaulted her head, leading to her uncharacteristic firebending blunder. An indignant screech alerted Azula to a nearby owl, the likely source of her troubles.

As Ozai placed the paper into Azula's hands, his message was clear:

Read it

If her father's previous neutrality and amusement were anything to go by, Azula figured that the letter couldn't contain anything disgraceful. If it had, her father wouldn't have hesitated to punish her. Eyes narrowed, Azula began to scan the letter:

Dear Ms. Ryland,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Addendum: The staff at Hogwarts, myself included, is aware of your royal status and will do its best to accommodate whatever traditions you may need to observe. We do not, however, believe in preferential treatment, and we expect that you will treat your fellow witches and wizards as equals.

After reading the letter, Azula scoffed to herself. Who was this "McGonagall" person to tell her how she should treat people? Before she could dwell too much on it, her father placed a hand on her shoulders, the touch immediately sobering her.

"This is an opportunity for you to prove your allegiance to the Fire Nation." Ozai declared proudly, his eyes narrowing slightly with his next words, "You will not disappoint me."

Azula knew better than to think her father's words to be anything other than commands. The last time she did…bad things happened. When her father's palm started heating up against the fabric of her robes, Azula realized that her response had been a fraction too delayed, and her father was growing impatient.

"Yes Father." Azula settled on obediently, her tone unwavering as she looked up to meet his golden gaze, so similar to her own, "I will not disappoint you."

To say that Draco Malfoy was less than impressed when he received his Hogwarts letter was a supreme understatement. He was the heir of the prestigious Black and Malfoy families, through his mother and father respectively – the most renowned, feared, and respected pureblood families within the Wizarding World.

Needless to say, Draco expected nothing short of receiving his Hogwarts letter.

Thus, when the house-elf, Donny (or was it Dobby?) delivered said letter to him, Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. He had more important things to do than entertain the elf, or the Hogwarts letter. He was busy planning to talk his father into buying him a new broom, after his acquaintance (the girl preferred the term "friend") Astoria Greengrass split his old one in half. How she did it, he'd never know, but he knew better than to ever grant her permission to use his things again.

Would that stop her from using them? Probably not, but it was the thought that counted.

"Master Malfoy." The house-elf, it was Dobby after all, squeaked, extending the letter to Draco with a trembling hand, "For you sir."

Draco hardly spared the house-elf a second glance, gesturing for him to place it on his bedside table with a nonchalant wave of his hands. Had he cared to look at the elf, he would have seen the crestfallen look on his face at his dismissive response.

"Go tell Mother." Draco sneered, "She'll be happy."

As the house-elf bowed and scrambled out of the room, Draco sighed to himself, evidently displeased. Normal wizards would be excited about the prospect of going to Hogwarts, the school being famous for adventure and magical excellence. However, Draco was a Malfoy. He was better than anything Hogwarts could offer. His father, Lucius, had told him so, and he believed him wholeheartedly. The elder Malfoy had high hopes for Draco, and said hopes included going to a proper Dark Arts school – like Durmstrang – instead of some mudblood coddling school like Hogwarts.

Draco was brought out of his musings by the sound of someone entering his room. A dark scowl on his face, Draco resolved to let whoever entered his room unannounced have a piece of his mind. No one entered his room without his permission. It was probably just that wretched house-elf again, wanting to alert him of his mother's response.

"How dare…" Draco's words fell short as he looked up, meeting his mother's stern blue gaze, one of her brows raised, as if daring him to finish his statement.

His mother, Narcissa, married into the Malfoy family, being born of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. As such, despite spoiling her only child, she would not tolerate rudeness from him.

Draco wouldn't admit that his mother was scary when upset.

"What was that Draco?" Narcissa prodded, arms crossed over her chest as her icy eyes pierced his soul, "How dare I what?"

Draco sat up straighter on the bed, shaking his head before remembering to use his words.

"Nothing Mother."

After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few seconds, Narcissa let a small smirk grace her features, allowing Draco to relax. When his mother smirked at him, he knew that she wasn't truly upset with him, something he considered a very good thing.

A faint rustling noise alerted Draco to presence of the letter in her hand, and before he could ask what it was, Narcissa placed it on his lap, keeping a single finger on it as she stared down her son. By the firm set of his mother's mouth, Draco knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"This is your Hogwarts acceptance letter." Narcissa said slowly, her tone making Draco feel like a small, reprimanded child, "We will be going school shopping next week. Your father has already taken the day off from work to accompany us."

Draco opened his mouth to argue before his mother raised another brow at him. If Draco were thinking straight, he would've kept quiet and obeyed, but against his better judgment, he scowled.

"Hogwarts is for mudbloods and blood traitors." He said darkly, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly, "I'm going to Durmstrang."

Narcissa stared at her son for a moment, and silence dawned on the pair. After a few seconds of quiet, Narcissa began smiling. When Draco stared at her incredulously, her smile evolved into a light chuckle that passed through her still closed lips. Upon realizing that Draco's incredulous look wasn't going anywhere, her chuckles turned into a fuller laugh and she sat on the bed with Draco.

"I'm sorry." Narcissa quickly regained her composure and ran her fingers lovingly through her son's hair, grinning at Draco's sulky appearance, "For a moment, I thought you were under the impression that you had a choice."

Draco's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and the tips of his ears began to feel heated. Leave it to his mother to undermine what little influence he had in his life.

"Just because you want me closer to you at home doesn't mean that…" Draco started before Narcissa silenced him with a look. He was reminded quickly of why people generally didn't argue with his mother as an icy feeling settled in his chest.

"You sound like your father." Narcissa snapped, shocking Draco more than anything else she could've said. He was always under the impression that being like his father would be a good thing in Narcissa's eyes, "You're willing to throw away a perfectly good education because you're afraid to consort with…"

"Ill-bred disgraces." Draco spat, abruptly cutting off his mother.

Narcissa was quiet for a moment, but when Draco felt a stinging sensation on his arm, he knew his mother had hit him with a wordless stinging hex. Grumpily, he rubbed his arm in a vain attempt to soothe the irritation. His skin had turned a faint, blotchy red, welting in some places.

"You'll have to get used to these kinds of people sooner or later Draco." Narcissa continued, as if there had never been an interruption, "It's better if you start now."

As Draco pondered his mother's words, Narcissa went on.

"Did you know that your father and I met at Hogwarts?" There was a wistful look in Narcissa's eyes, one that instantly caught Draco's attention. It was gone as soon as it had appeared and if Draco had more nerve, he would've questioned her about it, "We were both educated there, and I turned out just fine."

The "I" in the later part of Narcissa's statement wasn't lost on Draco. He frowned, meeting his mother's gaze with his father's eyes.

"What about Father?"

Narcissa paused, as if she were determining how deeply she wanted to go into her argument. Apparently, she resolved on not getting too deep, sighing as she reached forward to squeeze Draco's hand. Draco squeezed back, not liking how somber his mother was becoming.

"I do not want you mixed up in the Dark Arts." She said finally, her eyes indicating that there was still much she wasn't relaying to him, "You know what it did to your Aunt Bellatrix, and I do not want the same for you. You are my only child, and if sending you to consort with mudbloods and blood traitors will give me peace of mind, then so be it."

With that, Narcissa left the room as gracefully and silently as she had appeared, leaving Draco to think over her words. He loved his mother dearly, even more than he adored his father, and that was saying a lot, given that Draco wanted to be just like his father when he was older. Sighing to himself again, Draco knew that a decision had been made, though it was one his mother had already made for him.

He was going to Hogwarts.

Author's Note: I consider this story, in large part, a fun writing exercise and challenge, as I have never written a crossover prior to this one. Special thanks to my friend on this website, "MisguidedPlume," for motivating me to keep writing this, and I hope you all enjoy this long journey!