It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…

And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.

-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

A strange numbness came over Harry as he watched the tattered black veil ripple and fall gently back into place. He scarcely heard the sounds of battle around him and barely felt the heat given off by spells passing by him inches away. He hadn't even noticed Lupin seizing him by the shoulders, shunting him away from the melee. What Harry did notice, or rather hear were Lupin's words.

"He's gone Harry. There's nothing we can do to save him-"

"No," Harry murmured, more to himself than Lupin, "NO!"

With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Harry wrenched himself out of Lupin's grasp and sprinted towards the veil. Everything else was unimportant. The shouts of his friends crying for him to halt. The mad cacophony of duels surrounding him. Dumbledore's arrival.

Dumbledore! That brought Harry out of his grief fuelled sprint, but it was already too late. As Harry's hands made contact with the ancient doorway he dimly noted that at least everything would be alright with Dumbledore there.

_______________________________

Muggles who study chemistry refer to the temperature zero Kelvin as Absolute Zero. The coldest temperature theorized but unreachable by any known means, natural or otherwise. Had Harry known this little tidbit he would have introduced those Muggles to this place.

Cold. There was no other word for it. Muscle-numbing, hypothermia-inducing, ball-shriveling cold. Bleak and hateful cold enveloped him. He felt his muscles tightening, his lip chapping and his hand shaking. He let out a shaky breath watching his breath coalesce into a foggy cloud. His hand now shaking furiously were colored a pale blue, he felt his wand slipping from his grasp.

His wand! Harry gathered his thoughts. What was the spell Hermione had used to mark the doors in the chamber of doors?

"F-f-flagrate!"

A great red-gold flame alighted the tip of his wand and he drew his wand in a cyclone around him. The spell left a fiery trail in the wake of his wand's path. Soon thick tendrils of flame surrounded Harry in an unmoving twister.

Harry could practically hear his body groaning with relief. With the small respite from the bone-chilling cold, Harry peered through the gaps in his fiery cocoon and assessed his surroundings.

What Harry would have initially assumed to be a icy wasteland based on the climate alone turned out to be a garden of sorts; a garden of ice.

A fountain stood in the center of the garden, a frozen statue so covered in ice that it was unrecognizable as such emerged from the heart of the fountain pool. Where water would normally be trickling down from the statue's top there was instead ice. Moving ice, acting as water but still managing to coat the structure in layers of thick ice, like a frozen sculpture. Roses, daffodils and daisies flanked the fountain and lay placed all throughout the garden, all made of ice.

Harry couldn't help but admire the beauty of the garden, having tended the Dursley's own plot for as long as he could remember. Ice of different shades blended together to form trees here and there, scattered throughout the plot. Perched upon one of the branches was a blue bird, there first living thing Harry had seen in the garden. He squinted through his glasses, which were fogging from cold. The blue bird was alive, yes, but it too was enveloped in a thin transparent film of ice. Another frozen sculpture.

"Walkin' in a winter wonderland…" Harry murmured, recalling one of the Christmas songs from a time when he was not allowed to partake in the holiday. "Gone away is the blue bird, here to stay is the new bird…"

Harry scanned the garden before him revealing yet another important detail, The garden wasn't on ground level. Ice spanned a hundred feet one way and almost double in the other direction, but it all came to an abrupt an end. A parapet then?

He shifted his gaze back onto the fountain, noting many more sculptures, one in particular drew his attention, one of three female figures. If their clothing were anything to go then they had to have been some kind of nobility. Intricate silks and flowing gowns characterized their dress. Their faces all showed looks of determination, resolve and…fear? They stood back to back, shoulders touching, together forming a triangle. Perhaps they had been going for an artistic form. Or covering each other's backs to defend from an unseen foe?

Abruptly, Harry came to the startling realization this place was not a garden. It was a prison.

That realization brought Harry from his admiration of the garden. He was here for Sirius. His godfather who has already spent most of his life in a prison of his own.

"SIRIUS!" Harry called out. "SIRIUS!"

He paused. Waiting, hoping for an answer. No, he's gone. He's not here…

"Har…ree"

Harry spun, searching for the speaker. He recognized that voice, Sirius.

His eyes were instantly drawn to a feature of the garden that he should not have possibly overlooked before. A massive tree, dead and decidedly out of place amongst the other frozen décor overlooked the wintry fountain. On its braches, a man was shackled, a grotesque parody of a crucifixion. Shackles of ice stretched out the mans arms perpendicular to his body, his flesh frozen and mouth fixed in a silent scream. Where the other sculptures, or rather prisoners, were completely frozen, he was not. His eyes roamed wildly gazing at everything and nothing all at once. He met Harry's gaze and his screams began with renewed vigor, silent to all but himself. Horrified, Harry drew his stare away from the man.

Sirius's prone form lay immobile at the base of the same tree. Ice had begun to cover his body, preparing to form another sculpture.

Harry started forward, so intent on reaching his Sirius that he had not noticed the figure standing next to his godfather.

"And who might you be?"

He looked up and found himself in the presence of a goddess. For there was no other word to describe such beauty. The three earlier figure who had been dressed as nobility were made to be peasants by figure before him. She was clad in a flowing gown of pale green, a stark contrast to the pale hues surrounding her. The dress hugged her body, leaving nothing to the imagination yet not revealing anything at all, calling attention to feminine curves that would have made any woman writhe with envy and any man mad with desire.

She was the epitome of perfection, and she was not human. Her skin was a pale, really pale. So much so that the ice and snow of the garden would have seemed to be a burst of colors by comparison. Glittering colors flickered at parts of her body; her throat, her wrists, her fingers. It was a perpetual dance of deep blues and greens, even the occasional violet iridescence.

Her hair, whiter than snow, framed her oval shaped face and flowed long past her shoulders. Even long past her hips, long and white like winter's first snowfall. And her lips, her plump kissable lips spoke of things that were not of this world.

But that was non of this gave away her apparent lack of humanity.

It was the eyes. They were like a cat's, vertically slitted, wide feline eyes. Changing color in tune with her glittering body. Harry caught sight of a familiar shade of green In her eyes as it gave way to a dark navy blue. The eyes, although beautiful, lacked the basic characteristic of mortality. Devoid of emotions, yet filled with a knowledge…and power.

Those eyes were staring back into Harry's own trademark green. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, his lower extremities strained against the fabric of his jeans. His mind was in a haze. He noted that his Flagrate Flame Spell was fading.

"I asked mortal, who are thee? Who dares trespasses upon Arctis Tor?" Asked the woman. A slight impatience apparent in her tone.

With nerve he did not know he possessed Harry replied. "Isn't it polite to give your name first before asking for others?"

The figure let out a deep throaty laugh. Harry could practically fell his brain shutting down to let his body to the thinking.

The woman's laughter died down. Her mouth quirked at the corners, whether in an anger or amusement it was impossible to tell. "Very well. It's been a long time since I have had a mortal visit this place. I will indulge you, be glad my mood is a favorable one."

She paused, and took the opportunity to give Harry a once over. Perhaps judging his worth, or maybe sizing him up. "You may call me Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness. Monarch of the Winter Court"