The Nevernever was an enormous realm. In fact it would be more accurate to call it limitless.

Old gods and Elder beings, cast away from a time from when the universe was in it's infancy, lurked in the far reaches(Although defining the far reaches of a limitless realm is fairly difficult to do). Trapped and bound by forces beyond human comprehension. Preceding the far reaches was the region of demonics and diabolicals, a place closer to hell than any other. Demons, whose hobbies involve manipulating humans in hopes of attaining their immortal soul, lurked in waiting to be called upon by some foolish sorcerer. However these areas were only a miniscule part of the vast Nevernever. The majority of the Nevernever, or at least the majority of what is known, is dominated by the Fae. By the Courts of Summer and Winter.

The Faerie courts were not christened Summer and Winter for no reason, the territories' terrains and weather were largely characterized by their names. Hot and warm for Summer, cold and chilly in Winter. Even the Fae themselves possessed temperaments analogous to their Courts, the former being warm and kinder, the latter cold and callous. And both deceptively manipulative, but all this is neither here nor there.

The place where the Courts met was a rather nondescript place, a simple field. Or rather it would be, if not for it's appearance. One half of the clearing was coated in a sizeable layer of snow, the kind that was cold and unblemished from lack of intrusion upon the area. It was a cold, cruel and unforgiving climate. The other half of the clearing could not have contrasted more with the wintry part. On the other side it was as if summer was in mid-season, the field was coated in a fresh layer of grass, flowers were in full bloom and signs of life asserted itself in forms of moss covered rocks and buzzing bees.

Suddenly and without preamble, a carriage rolled into the clearing from the Summer end. Someone had obviously been watching too much Cinderella when the carriage had been crafted, for it was an enormous orange pumpkin on wheels of vines. In front, pulling the stagecoach, were two Pegasi. Large wings spread out behind the beasts as they lumbered forward, discomfort apparent in their movements. The horse-like beings traveled to the edge of the grassy area in the clearing, coming to a stop before Winter's End.

The door of the carriage opened, and out stepped the Summer Queen. She stood at a respectable height, sun-bleached white hair pilled atop her head. Feline eyes, vertically slitted and stark green scanned the environment before her. She was an image that artisans had been trying and failing to capture for centuries. She had Mona Lisa's trademark smile, small and mysterious. Her curves where the kind that not even the greatest sculptor could hope to chisel. Michealangelo would have been hard pressed finding pastels to match her pale skin or even the fiery color of her dress. "Your late, Mab."

As if on cue, Mab appeared opposite the other woman, standing on the snowy part of the field. For all intents and purposes the two could have been sisters, twins even. The only distinction being Mab's pale blue dress and decidedly colder disposition. "Impatience is unfitting of you, Titania."

A smile touched the Summer Queen's, Titania's, lips. It was an alien expression, one not of amusement but there simply for show, to keep up appearances. "Not impatience, sister mine. Excitement. After all, it is not everyday the Winter Queen requests a meeting with her Summer counterpart."

"I have news involving the Far Realm," Mab said. "A-

"So, you finally slew the wizard who could change objects to iron?" questioned Titania. "The one who killed an eighth of your court? Good, you certainly took your time. I had begun to think your powers were rusting-"

"No, not that," spoke Mab, a shadow of a frown hanging over her features. "He managed to severe his connection with the Nevernever long ago. That Albus Dumbledore would have made a valuable pawn-"

"If not for that," interrupted the Summer Queen. "Why have called me here?"

Mab shook here head. "Patience, sister, patience. I have had another visitor from the Far Realm."

Titania crossed her arms, interesting things happened to her chest from the simple movement. "What of it? They have not offended me this time, I won't help you eradicate this one. That's is of course why you're here, is it not? This one must have escaped you too? Perhaps you really are slipping."

"Enough!"whispered Mab. "You offend me, Titania. I let him go in exchange for a favor."

"Oh?" Titania inquired coolly. "That's odd, I'm surprised you didn't let him become another ornament for that garden of yours."

"Do you not see?" questioned Mab. "We were too hasty with the last visitors from that place. We let our pride be offended and we destroyed a golden opportunity."

She paused. "I have already gotten a small hold over the boy, but to continue I need your help. Where Winter goes-"

"-Summer must follow," finished Titania. "You surprise me sister. I will not assist you with your silly endeavor."

Titania turned on her heels, red dress flapping around her.

"Patience is a virtue," said Mab simply.

"As is honesty," replied Titania, giving a slight half turn back towards her counterpart. "Think me not one of those foolish mortals who you manipulate for your own gain. I have been doing the same for as long as you have."

"Hear my request, Tita."

Titania rose a single slender eyebrow. "Tita? You are serious then?"

"I am."

Titania gave a slight inclination of her head, acquiescing. The Queens of the Faerie Courts conversed.

"…The plan is sound," Titania admitted. "It would solidify our power base in the new world…"

"…in which we could then continue our power games," Mab finished.

She gave a dazzling smile and stared her counterpart squarely in the eye. Feline eyes, vertically slitted, beautifully green met. "Do we have a deal?"

--

The smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive was a curious place.

In one corner a tattered old twin mattress lay atop an even older frame, sheets disheveled in an unmade mess. Across from it stood an tall oak wardrobe, or at least that's what the room's sole occupant would have assumed. On the right side of the room, high on the walls, were shelves. Wood planks, with metal supports held all manner of things, or more aptly junk. Frayed novels, never used. Mangled action figures, disfigured from abuse. Old game stations, ancient and obsolete.

However, none of this was what made the room truly out of place in the neighborhood and even in the house itself. It was the wizard. Hunched forward at a desk over a large textbook, eyes screwed in concentration, right hand whipping intricately, was Harry Potter.

"Delpusio!" Harry muttered to himself, hands mimicking the motion for the Organ-Rattling Hex. "Delpusio! Delpusio!"

Satisfied with his understanding of the curse, Harry flicked past the page he was on. Stopping only when a useful spell caught his eye. "

The Wind Gale Charm," read Harry, "incantation Ventas Servitas."

Harry read the page, committing it to memory and repeated his earlier methodology; whispering the incantation himself and practicing the wand movements until he was satisfied. It was frustrating to do so, but with out being able to practice the spells he would have to make due with memorization. After all, it seemed to work fairly well for Hermione.

Harry stopped on the Flame Lance charm, Fuego, to take a small respite. Letting out a yawn, Harry took the moment to stretch out his body. Sighing with satisfaction as several joints cracked with soft pops. He let his arm fall to his side and swiveled his head to check the time.

11:53

11:53 PM! Harry thought dryly. Apparently time flies when you're training to save the world.

It seemed that twelve hours had elapsed since Harry had first sat down with his copy of Advanced Combat Theory by Reginald Daskins. A headache that he did not know he had suddenly asserted itself, his head pounded from all the newly assimilated knowledge. Harry grimaced, not from pain but from worry.

What was point of all this? He had studied magic rigorously since school had let. Harry knew could wipe the floor against any of his peers, but he could not possibly best Voldemort in a Duel, let alone kill the Dark Lord. How much would a few spells learned in a month help? Even Bellatrix Lestrange had outwitted Harry, a mad woman rusted by her time in Azkaban. Anything he did would not be enough. Harry briefly entertained the idea that he might conquer Voldemort with the luck that had seemed to be with him in every other dire situation he had every faced.

Yeah, that's right. And I'll also come across a super wand and disarm Voldemort to death.

Harry snorted. There was one way he could obtain the power and skills necessary to vanquish the Dark Lord.

"If you should ever have need of me, speak my name thrice."

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the temptation. Memories of the conversation in Dumbledore's office at the end of term replayed in his head:

"The Fae," Dumbledore began, "will do anything to increase their hold on you, and by proxy the world. Mab may offer you money, women, fame- "

"I wouldn't be tempted by any of that," responded Harry hotly.

Dumbledore peered on, silently. After a breath he spoke, warning in his voice. "Then you underestimate the Fae, Harry. Imagine if they offered your family, would you refuse? I can the answer in your eyes, Harry. Yes, you would, but you'd be tempted. What if Mab offered you the power to defeat Voldemort, thus ensuring the safety of people you care about? Could you refuse, Harry?"

He paused, his tone softening. "You are a man of incredible resilience, though infallible you are not. I must caution you against calling out for Mab, even in your most dire hour."

A cold draft from Harry's open window shook him from his rumination. Harry stood up, crossed the room and closing the window. Hedwig, would not be back from her hunting until a few more hours anyway. A chill sped down Harry's back, undoubtedly an effect of the cold wind.

Harry rose from his desk, striding across the room towards his window. Hedwig won't mind one night outside

With that thought he slid his window closed with a soft thump. Another chill overcame Harry.

Stupid draft.

Harry reclaimed his place at his desk, resuming his memorization of the Flame Lance charm.

"Fuego!" Harry intoned, his words punctuated with a sharp jab of his arm. "Fuego! Fue-"

Another chill shook Harry, a sudden and oppressive coldness that was more oppressive than a simple draft. With a came a small laugh, soft and cold. "Harry Potter, I do hope you remember out bargain."

Harry turned fast enough to hear an audible pop emanate from his neck.

Snowflakes were falling from above his bed, forming a small pile of snow. The snow coalesced, winding and twisting together, forming the shape of crossed legs. Next came the waist, slim, narrow and womanly, but the snow did not stop there. What followed was the makings of a woman's body, taut beasts and shapely curves that were literally out of this world. From there came the smooth and slender neck, accompanied by two pale delicate arms folded atop the figure's crossed legs. Her face came last, lips the color of frozen raspberries stood out starkly amongst her other features.

Catlike eyes, forest green and slitted like a snake's, stared back at Harry. They say eyes are windows to the soul, and if there was any truth to that phrase then the beauty before him was surely soulless. The eyes were devoid of anything that made up a human; emotion, recognition even baser instincts. The only thing present was intelligence and knowledge beyond mortal understanding behind those twin jade orbs, taunting Harry's own insignificant sentience.

"Mab," greeted Harry.

"Oh, so you do remember me?" replied Mab. "I wasn't sure that mortals as young as you had brains developed enough to recall memories."

Harry felt a surge of indignation, enticing him to act.

"Remember, Harry," started Dumbledore. "Mab will attempt to rile you up in order to make you rash, susceptible to her influence and manipulation. You must do nothing, do not let your emotions control you. All you must do is complete her favor, and be done with her. Seeing as you have never bartered with the Fae before, there is a limit to what Mab may ask of you."

Harry inhaled slowly, breathing deeply. "I don't owe you anything. Sirius died. You didn't keep your end of the bargain."

An unreadable expression crossed Mab's features. "I recant my earlier statement. It seems your brain has not fully developed."

And then Harry died.

Or at least the closest thing to dying. It was the exact pain that she had inflicted upon him in Arctis Tor, except worse. Harry's nerve's were being poked, prodded and pinched. Pain reverberated from every part of his body, aggravating his headache to the point of explosion.

His knees collapsed from under him and he hunched forward, hand supporting him. A soft voice whispered into Harry's ears from right over him.

"Were you not beholden to me I would not have any power over you in this place," whispered Mab slowly. "You owe me Harry Potter. And are useless to me in this state."

She punctuated her words with a soft kiss on Harry's cheek.

And Harry lived once more.

As fast as the pain had come it left him. Energy coursed his vein, reinvigorating him and all earlier tiredness fled. He looked up to find Mab seated above him, on the side of his bed.

"I could, of course, absolve your favor to me," said the Winter Queen, a smile on her lips. "I'm in need of a knight, you see. A representative amongst mortals, a champion of Winter."

"I refu-"

"Do not act in haste child. It would entail power, enough to defeat the man who killed your parents. Voldemort, was it? Don't look so surprised, I saw your memories when you trespassed in my garden"

"I-"

"-would be foolish to refuse. Everyone would be happy, you'd be rid of the favor you owe me. I would have a powerful representative who has defied death. And your world would be rid of a madman."

For a second Harry was tempted, but only a second. The power he knows not, Mab would certainly deliver on her promise, the power to defeat the Dark Lord. He could only imagine what kind of hold Mab would have over him if he accepted such a bargain. Even without that hanging over him, what would being a Winter Knight entail?

"You could also put a man out of his misery," Mab continued. "I know you saw him, on the tree in my garden."

The image of the tortured man, bound in a grotesque parody of the crucifixion came back to Harry. The man whose mouth who had been fixed in a perpetual, silent scream.

"He was my old Knight, Harry. He betrayed me and is being punished for it, as long as the mantle of Winter Knight is open he suffers. Would you condemn him to more suffering?"

Bloody Hell!

Harry was tempted again, this time out of selflessness.

Harry, you kind of have a saving-people-thing. I'm not saying it's a bad thing-

"I'm afraid I have to decline," responded Harry. "Just gimme your favor and let's get this over with."

A part of Harry wanted to rage against his morals and seize the power that would probably unleash a heap full of Faerie O's on the world. But he knew enough to deny, after all look at what happened to the last guy.

Mab sighed, a slow, deliberated and practiced motion. It was almost as if she had expected his answer. "Very well. Should you ever wish to reconsider you know how to contact me."

She smiled, and Harry knew that somehow this was what Mab wanted. That he had been had.

"I wish for you to travel through the Summer Court, and find me a Mock Orange."

"A Mock Orange?"

"It's a white flower, it grows on shrubs. Natural flowers are hard to come by in Winter, the climate doesn't allow for it. I'm rather fond of flowers and the Mock Orange can only be found in the Summer Court."

Harry almost laughed. A flower, maybe Dumbledore was off his rocker. The Faerie Queen's request was not nearly as daunting as the wizened Headmaster had made it out to be. "Alright, sure. I'll do it"

Mab smiled, a radiant one that lit up the entirety of Harry's small bedroom. "Thank you, Harry Potter."

It was then the world around Harry fell away. Reality gave way to utter darkness all around him, it swallowed him up. He was falling, falling, falling…

Harry never realized it was birthday.

--

Harry did not need any of the knowledge Dumbledore imparted upon him in order to recognize the place for what it was, the Nevernever. He stood at edge of what appeared to be a massive forest, great trees stood menacingly above, threatening Harry with their sheer size. The climate screamed Mid-Summer in the region, but the foliage lacked the characteristic green leaves and tan bark that one would expect. Instead the trees seemed to have decided to don summer colors, yellow sun-colored trees stood out, flanked by fiery reds and beautiful oranges. It was all rather beautiful.

What was not beautiful was the troll in front of the woods.

It was not the hulking mountian troll that Harry had encountered in his first year, nor was it the kind often depicted in novels. Ever seen one of those small Troll dolls? The ones with the oddly proportioned figures and wild hair?

Well, take that doll, boil it in a Cauldron of Ugly and add a liberal portion of Essence of Evil and it would be pretty close to what stood before Harry. The troll must have ran into a wall few times, because only then would it's face appear as squished as it did. Despite this a large nose, oddly shaped and bulbous, jutted out from it's face. Small eyes, black, beady and flanked by a pair of incredibly unkempt eyebrows stared back at Harry from under an even wilder mess of hair.

The beast was small too. It could not have reached five feet, even with its wiry hair. Arms, too big for it's body, swung menacingly at the trolls side. Small legs, much too small, struggled to support the weight of the troll. All together it was a fearsome creature. One that was preparing to dish up a respectable portion of fearsome all over Harry.

It began running, speed and agility that should not have coexisted with it's mass apparent in it's stride, crossing the distance before Harry in a heartbeat.

"Protego!" said Harry.

The troll slammed into the shimmering translucent shield, bouncing back and skidding to halt. But Harry was not finished. "Delpusio!"

A pale violet jet of light forced it's way out of Harry's wand, heading towards his foe. The troll seemed to have recovered by this time, flipping over the spell. Yes, flipped.

"That's just not fair," thought Harry.

The Organ Rattling Hex traveled onward, finally coming in contact with a flaming red tree. The tree rattled violently, shaking several leaves free and breaking off branches along it's trunk. At least the spell seemed to be working properly.

The troll landed cleanly, looking up at Harry all the while. "Winturr' Curr!"

"Huh?" questioned Harry eloquently.

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say because the troll shot forward again. It reached behind it,, drawing a previously unseen sword from it's back.

Emboldened by his earlier success with at spell he had never used before, Harry brandished his wand, jabbing it forward. "Fuego!"

Magical fire, white hot and fiery red, lanced forward scorching the earth. But the troll was prepared, it rolled to the side, hand coming down and letting loose an unknown projectile.

With his wand still spewing the magic flames, Harry was forced to dart awkwardly to the side. Several small black blurs whipped past his previous location, continuing onward into oblivion. He turned to the troll, only to find it letting loose another deadly volley.

"Protego!"

The shield appeared just in time for several objects to impact on it's surface. The projectiles bounced back harmlessly, dispersing in all directions, one coming to rest no further than a meter before Harry.

Star-shaped and small was a shuriken, ninja throwing star, lodged in the grass.

"Merlin's Beard? Ninja Troll!" thought Harry. "This really isn't fair."

The troll bellowed, enraged by it's failure to seriously injure it's foe. Brandishing it's sword, or rather katana, the troll started forward once more.

Harry spun his wand in carefully practiced motion, calling his intent and magic to the forefront of his mind. "Ventas Servitas!"

The spell failed. Harry's eyes widened. The troll paused in surprise, apparently not expecting the failed attack. It's beady eyes narrowed and it lunged forward taking advantage of Harry's surprise.

"Expelliarmus!"

It was the only spell Harry had time to get off before the troll was upon him. Luckily too because the troll's katana rocked out of it's hand, spinning into the forest at it's back.

They went down in a tangle of limbs, muscular troll arms gaining advantage over skinny wizard arms. Long human legs wrestling small Faerie ones. When the pair rolled to a stop it was with both Harry's arms pinned above him by just one of the troll's. The troll used it's free arm to punch him across the face.

The troll possessed the kind of strength that only disciplined bodybuilders should be entitled too. And it hurt, bad.

"That," thought Harry wryly. "is gonna leave a mark."

And then Harry kicked out with his legs. Surprisingly, the trolled was knocked back, back flipping cleanly in the air, landing with its back to the Winter Court's edge. It was the polar( -____- see what did there?) opposite of the Summer's edge which was now to Harry's back. Cluttered together and packed tightly were trees dotted in pale blues, greens and whites which emerged from the snow covered ground.

The troll started forward again, enraged, and Harry's face ached. He could not take much more of this, he need a way to defeat the troll.

"Should you ever need to defend yourself from the Fae," began Dumbledore gravely. "remember that their greatest bane is iron. They cannot be touched by it without feeling terrible agony."

"Iron, sir?"

"I do not know why it works, Harry. Only that it does. Do not do this unless the situation calls for it, it offends the Fae horribly. Wielding iron in the presence of Mab for example could mean your death."

It was only too bad that Harry was not in the habit of carrying iron on him at all times. The troll continued slower but still angry, perhaps gauging Harry, determining the best way to kill the wizard. Harry took a wary step back, and gave a start when a branch cracked underfoot.

A branch?

"Accio branch!"

Maybe Harry should have phrased that better because all manner of branches came zipping towards him from the forest. Harry plucked a branch the size of him forearm out of the bundle and cancelled the spell.

Harry was no transfiguration master but he was hopeful his this would work. After all if the Matchstick to Needle was a first year spell, then how hard could Branch to Iron Weapon be?

The troll dashed forward faster, satisfied with it's new plan to overwhelm the mortal.

Harry panicked. Calling his magic and image forward he spoke the incantation. It failed.

The troll was getting closer.

He tried once more. And failed.

The troll was much too close.

He tried again, desperation fuelling his magic. The branch in Harry's arm shimmered and shifted become a crude albeit iron weapon. Professor McGonnagal would have been proud.

The troll bellowed, bounding forward and launching itself in the air towards Harry. Brandishing his crude iron sword, Harry threw it out in front of him and sent a well aimed Banisher at it. Troll and Iron met like toothpaste and orange juice, a combination of epic fail.

The sword pierced the troll's hide in mid air and together they dropped. The troll's body went limp and it's body continued the rest of it's way, landing on the ground next to Harry with a painful sounding thud. The troll remained still, dead.

A voice rang out from the Winter woods. "Very good, Harry. But my task was not for you to slay my foes. I want my flower."

Mab's voice faded away only to be replaced with a soft ringing laughter.

Harry turned on his heel, and started toward the sun-colored forest in search of the Mock-Orange flower. Too bad he did not know that that particular flower is known for it's symbolism, deceit.