ATLA Universe, Earth Kingdom
Avatar Timeline: 98 AG (After Genocide), 10 months before Aang's awakening
Universal Time: November 14th, 1988
Time until Elder Blood Teleportation is available: November 26th, 1988
Time until Hun and Po souls are deemed suitable by the laws of the Harry Potter Universe to learn structured HP magic: July 31st, 1991
Harry’s Physical/Mental/Emotional Maturity: 13 years old
---
Harry watched the sun rise from his camp in the mountains. Chrysa rested her large head on his lap while he gently stroked her invulnerable fur.
The events at the prison rig kept replaying in his mind. Not the dramatic display itself - that had gone exactly as calculated - but rather how he'd approached creating those techniques. Thunder Speech and the Lightning Avatar... they'd come from pure mathematics and physics rather than the spiritual understanding he usually relied on.
"I actually calculated air pressure differentials," Harry muttered to himself. Chrysa's ear twitched at his voice. "Used exact voltages and amperages instead of feeling the flow of chi..."
The materialist approach felt strange compared to his usual style. He'd always developed techniques through understanding deeper truths, like how his azure flames initially came from balancing Yin and Yang, or how his quintessence flame arose from grasping multiple philosophical frameworks simultaneously.
But this time...
Harry raised his hand, letting tiny arcs of electricity jump between his fingers. Each spark followed precisely calculated paths, heating the air in specific ways to create sound waves. The mathematics behind it was beautiful in its own way, differential equations describing how pressure waves combined to form recognizable speech.
That new offer, Renaissance Boy, had changed something fundamental in how his mind worked, hadn’t it?
The numbers came instantly now, without conscious thought. He could see the mathematical relationships underlying physical phenomena almost as clearly as he saw color. He was lucky that he had researched lightning in depth in the Hogwarts library, and that the Muggle Studies books had talked about some specifics, but if he wanted to take full advantage of this new approach… he’d have to approach Muggle schools back in his original world.
A squirrel darted down the tree trunk, pausing to stare at him with bright black eyes.
Harry smiled, extinguishing the lightning. The little creature reminded him of the children in that isolated mining village, how their eyes had lit up when he healed their parents' scars.
Anyway, the dramatic display of power at the prison rig had served its purpose, those soldiers would never return and their fear ensured the village's safety far better than simple death could have. But such theatrics weren't always the wisest choice.
It would only work for one simple reason.
Ozai was afraid of him.
There was no doubt about that in his mind, not when he could literally feel the fear within him. To risk angering Harry for such an isolated village... Ozai would have to be foolish beyond measure, and he didn't strike Harry as foolish.
Of course, that didn't mean he could use the same trick too many times in a row.
There would be a point where Ozai, and the Fire Nation as a whole, would go against him no matter what.
But their relationship hadn't reached that point yet.
Harry stood, gently nudging Chrysa's head off his lap. The Nemean Lion stretched lazily and yawned, showing off teeth that could tear through steel.
"Let's explore this world properly," Harry whispered. "No more dramatic displays unless absolutely necessary."
Red light sucked Chrysa into her Premier Ball, and Harry bent azure flames from his soles at the same time to shoot into the sky as he quickly accelerated eastward.
Harry discovered over the next twelve days that the brutal occupation he'd witnessed in the isolated mountain valley was an extreme case. Most Fire Nation controlled territories operated under relatively peaceful conditions… taxes were collected, soldiers maintained order, and life continued much as it always had. The Fire Nation wasn't stupid enough to destroy what they conquered.
But the burn scars... those were everywhere even if it wasn’t as bad.
A baker in a seaside town who'd "disrespected" a drunk soldier. A farmer's daughter who'd refused an officer's advances. A merchant who'd been "slow" to pay his taxes. Small cruelties inflicted by those with power upon those without.
Harry approached these people quietly, usually at night. No dramatic displays, no thundering proclamations. Just a boy with golden flames who could make old wounds vanish as if they'd never existed.
Some tried to pay him with what little they had. Others fell to their knees in gratitude. A few even tried to spread word of his presence, but Harry was always gone before crowds could gather.
The reputation grew anyway.
Whispered stories spread of a young healer who appeared without warning, cured old scars that master waterbenders couldn't touch, and vanished like morning mist. Some claimed he was a spirit in human form. Others insisted he was an airbender who'd survived the genocide, not believing that a firebender could heal. The more dramatic tales spoke of him commanding lightning and creating storms from clear skies.
Harry heard these stories in every town he passed through since a week had gone by from when he had saved the mountain village. Sometimes they made him smile, other times they made him want to scream in frustration. Yes, he could do incredible things - but he wasn't some mythical figure descending from the heavens to save humanity. He was just... him. Just Harry.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
The whole thing reminded him uncomfortably of the Boy-Who-Lived fame back home. At least here the stories were based on things he'd actually done rather than surviving because of some ‘older self’ with a mirror.
But that was the problem with humans, wasn't it? They needed stories. Needed to believe in something greater than themselves.
Harry understood that need.
He had no choice but to understand that need from the constant barrage of Faith thrown at his Hun Soul.
The desire to believe that somewhere out there was someone who could make everything better, who could fix all the broken things in the world... he couldn't be that person. Didn't want to be that person. But he could help where he could, heal who he could, and try to leave this world a little better than he found it.
The Avatar... now there was someone who could actually be that mythical figure. Harry had heard stories about the previous Avatars during his time at the Fire Nation palace. Tales of incredible feats, of maintaining balance between the four nations, of being the bridge between the human and spirit worlds.
The current Avatar was missing. Had been missing for almost a hundred years.
Some believed the cycle was broken, that the Air Nomad Avatar had died in the genocide and somehow failed to reincarnate. Others insisted the Avatar was in hiding, waiting for the right moment to return and restore balance to the world.
Harry understood now why the Avatar represented such hope to people. Not just because of the raw power, though bending all four elements would certainly be impressive. No, the Avatar represented something more fundamental: the idea that the world itself would not allow such imbalance to continue forever. That somewhere out there was someone chosen by the world itself to make things right.
The deeper Harry traveled into the Earth Kingdom, the more he understood why some areas still held out hope while others had given up entirely. The coastal regions and colonies felt the full weight of Fire Nation occupation.
But inland... inland belonged to the Earth Kingdom proper, defended by vast distances and endless rocky terrain that made invasion nearly impossible.
Here people lived much as they always had. Children played in streets without fear of soldiers. Merchants haggled over prices without watching their words. The war was a distant thing that happened to other people.
Harry watched a group of children practice earthbending in a village square, their instructor calling out corrections as they shifted small rocks back and forth.
These people didn't need a healer or a savior. They needed nothing from Harry at all.
And that was fine. More than fine, it was right.
The world didn't need to be saved everywhere. Some places were already good, already working as they should. True wisdom, Harry was beginning to understand, wasn't about fixing everything. It was about knowing where to act and where to step back.
Prudence.
Not just being careful or cautious… those were part of it, but not the whole. Prudence was about understanding consequences, about seeing the deeper currents that moved beneath surface actions.
Like how his dramatic display at the prison rig had served a specific purpose, but repeating such displays unnecessarily would only draw unwanted attention. Or how healing someone's scars might seem like pure kindness, but could mark them as sympathizers if done too openly in occupied territories.
Everything had consequences.
Every action shook the ground beneath the surface. True wisdom lay in feeling those tremors before they started, in understanding how they would resonate with all the other vibrations already moving through the foundations of the world.
It made him think about the relationship between Justice and Prudence.
Justice had come through a sudden shocking moment of enlightenment within an illusion.
Prudence was different.
Quieter.
Harry hadn't fully grasped it yet, not on the bone-deep level he'd achieved with Justice. The understanding came in small moments instead… in choosing not to heal someone publicly because it might mark them as a target, in realizing that some villages needed dramatic intervention while others needed subtle aid.
He was only halfway there.
But maybe that was the point. Justice could be understood in a flash of enlightenment, in that perfect moment when right and wrong aligned into crystal clarity. Prudence... Prudence required experience. Required mistakes and correction, required seeing how actions played out over time.
After twelve days of flying through the Earth Kingdom, Harry found himself at the edge of civilization. The last town he'd passed through had been a couple of hours ago, a small trading post where merchants gathered supplies.
He sighed and leaned against a rock wall, staring out at the endless sea of sand before him.
The Si Wong Desert was absolutely gigantic.
Merchants at the trading post had warned him about sandbenders, about storms that could strip flesh from bone, about hallucinations brought on by heat and thirst.
But somewhere out there was a hidden library. The Hero's Journal had told him about this adventure when he had decided to leave the Sun Warrior Ruins, but he’d chosen to head to the Fire Nation Capital instead.
He’d like to talk to some locals nearby about-
That was when something very important happened. The Elder Blood, dormant for so long, stirred within his veins.
Harry couldn't stop the immense relieved grin from spreading across his face.
He could finally return home!
"Chrysa!" Harry pulled out the Premier Ball, releasing his companion. The Nemean Lion came out in a flash of red light, immediately butting her head against his chest. "We can go home! We can see everyone again!"
Chrysa purred, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. She understood, of course she did. She'd been by his side through everything in this world… the Sun Warriors, Ember Island, the Fire Nation palace, all of it.
Harry hugged Chrysa tightly, burying his face in her mane. "Ready to go home, girl?"
The Nemean Lion rumbled in agreement. Harry pulled back and returned her to the Premier Ball, it was better to be safe than sorry, who knew where they'd really end up? He bent azure flames from his feet, rising into the air with Jet Propulsion.
The Elder Blood surged through his veins like liquid starlight. Harry felt reality bend around him as his body began turning ethereal, transparent, ghostlike...
And then he was nowhere.
And everywhere.
He was thrust into the infinite and incomprehensible Omniverse. Countless realities flickered past, and this time Harry caught glimpses… a gigantic sleeping head that had the word “AMARANTH” inscribed on its forehead, another where a person in a costume was swinging on webs through New York, yet another where giants snatched small humans wielding swords out of the air...
He could have gotten lost in that infinity of realities forever.
But something pulled him forward, through the darkness between worlds, through the spaces between spaces...
And then-
"GRYFFINDOR SCORES! 80-70 TO SLYTHERIN WITH THE SNITCH STILL IN PLAY-"
Harry popped into existence fifty feet above the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.
The announcer's voice cut off mid-sentence.
Complete silence fell over the packed stands as hundreds of people stared at the dark-haired green-eyed boy hovering in mid-air on jets of azure fire. Harry recognized Charlie Weasley, who was on his broom with his mouth hanging open. The Snitch buzzed right past his ear, but the Seeker didn't even twitch.
Up in the teacher's box, Grandpa Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like supernovas while Aunt Min gripped the railing so hard her knuckles turned white.
Uncle Filius even toppled backward with a squeak!
The silence lasted for exactly five more seconds.
Then everyone started shouting at once.
"HARRY!"
"HE'S FLYING WITHOUT A BROOM!"
"THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!"
"WHERE DID HE COME FROM?!"
"IS THAT REALLY-"
"POTTER'S BACK!”
Harry couldn't help it. He started laughing, the sound carrying across the pitch. Here he was, back at Hogwarts, interrupting a Quidditch match of all things...
The azure flames crackled softly around his feet as he hovered in place, drinking in the sight of home. The castle looked exactly like he remembered, and he could even see the Still Lake in the distance from the Super Boggart Explosion!
He'd missed this place so much...
Tiny arcs of lightning sparked between Harry's fingers as he shaped the Thunder Speech. His voice rolled across the pitch like gentle thunder, reaching every ear with perfect clarity.
"Hi everyone," the words reverberated softly even as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. "Sorry about interrupting the match. Did I miss anything important?”