Four days later, Harry, Draco, and Nesmay were sanding and smoothing several lengths of wood prior to Ollivander's carving them into different wand shapes. Some wands the wandmaker left as a simple piece of wood, smoothed and tapered, others he carved fanciful shapes on or spiraled the wood or etched runes on. When Draco asked why, Ollivander answered, "You must learn not only to hear the magic in the wood, but also to feel what shape it takes. Some wood asks to be ornamented, some to have runes of power etched upon it, other kinds ask to be natural, lacking the fancy carvings. When I hold a piece of wood in my hand, I listen with both my heart and my magical sense. And then I can start to carve."

"What if you make a mistake?"

"You undo it with magic and start again," answered the wandmaker. "Once you have carved the wood, then you need to match the wand with the core. I usually use only three cores—a phoenix feather, a dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair. Occasionally, a specific wood might call for another core, and that is why I have serpent scales here, or the frozen tear of a frost dragon. But such is rare, and mostly I use the three standard materials for cores."

"How can you match a wood to a core?" was Draco's next question.

"Usually, you try and match a yielding wood with a firm core, the core and wood should compliment each other. So a willow wood would do well with a dragon heartstring core, or a phoenix one, but less so with a unicorn hair. But remember, all wood must be able to yield somewhat, or else it will shatter during the melding process. However, more about that later. Most apprentices of mine don't get the full speech until they've been working for me at least two years."

"What if you misjudge a wood and a core?" asked Nesmay. "Will the wand blow up?"

"No. It may not work as well. Sparks may shoot out of it and it might not be as reliable, but it will still work. Many . . .substandard wands are used as practice wands, or even substitutions if a wizard's wand should break."

"How does a wand choose a wizard?" asked Harry.

"Ah, now that is one mystery I cannot explain so easily," Ollivander chuckled. "Only that the magic in the wand must resonate with the magic of the wizard or witch. When the two are in balance, the wand chooses. Or such is my theory. Others claim it has more to do with personality. It may be both. No one has ever really been sure what criteria a wand chooses by."

The three children thought about that while they polished the wood with rough and soft cloths treated with Magical Wood Polisher. Each day they had come to the wandshop, which was now almost totally restored, they learned something new about wands or wood or harnessing their magical core. "A wand was designed to focus the wild magic within you and help you control it easier. It channels the magic into a form you can use without so much effort."

Nesmay found that the more she assisted Ollivander, and practiced her meditation with Severus, the more she was growing to control her powers and to regard her mortal magic as more of a blessing than a curse.

And so she was sorry to find that it was time to go when she glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It chimed four and Ollivander sighed and said, "Well, I'll see you next Monday, Harry, Draco, and Nesmay. Best you hurry on home, I'm sure your dad has supper waiting."

"He does." Harry said. "Goodbye, Mr. Ollivander."

Once they had bid goodbye to the wandseller, the three headed back towards The Leaky Cauldron, which was where they Flooed home from every day they worked for Ollivander. The streets were quiet, as it was dinner hour and most shops closed so their owners could go home for a hot meal. Harry felt his stomach grumble and said, "I hope Dad has something really . . .filling for supper tonight." Lately, Severus had been on a salad and soup kick, and while Harry enjoyed the different salads and soups he made, he also found himself longing for a nice roasted chicken or a steak.

"He will. Remember, tonight's when Sarai is coming back to the manor," Draco reminded his brother.

"Oh! Right. Then that means we're going to get a four course meal." Harry grinned.

Nesmay laughed. "Really? He's that excited to see her? Only kidding," she laughed at the stares the boys gave her. "The whole court knows of how Sarai and Severus are in love with each other. It's the romance of the century."

"They can keep the romance. Just let us eat," Draco said, laughing.

"You can say that again," Harry agreed.

Nesmay rolled her eyes. Boys! Always thinking with their stomachs. They were about halfway down the walk and just passing the notorious Knockturn Alley when she heard the sound of a cat crying. "Oh, the poor thing!" she exclaimed, looking around. "Here, kitty!" she called.

Again came the unmistakable wail of a cat in trouble.

Nesmay squinted. In the gathering dusk, she thought she could make out the small skinny form of a cat crouching beneath some crates down Knockturn Alley. She could just catch the gleam of its green eyes. "Poor kitty!" she crooned, walking quickly across the street. "Don't be scared." She knelt in the mouth of the alley and made smooching noises. She had always been a sucker for animals, especially cats. "Come here, little thing. I'm sure Severus won't mind me bringing home a starving kitten. Here, kitty!"

"Nesmay! What are you doing?" cried Harry. "You can't go down there."

She didn't turn around. "I'm rescuing a kitten. It's scared and hungry."

"But that's Knockturn Alley!"

"Where all the bad wizards hang out," Draco added. "I ought to know, since once I used to be one of them, and I shopped at Borgin and Burkes."

"I'm not shopping for dark magic. I'm trying to save a life!" Nesmay snapped irritably. She carefully took two steps, holding out her hand, which had a bit of turkey in it, she had tucked a few pieces in her pocket to give Cafall, but she could spare some. "Here, kitty! Come and eat the yummy turkey."

Draco and Harry followed her across the street, and then ventured cautiously into the alley. It was dingy and dark and it stank of mildew and rotting garbage and old fish. The rather fastidious Draco wrinkled his nose and said, "I can't believe I used to hang out here. Father, you were a bad influence."

Nesmay ignored her cousins, instead concentrating upon the cat. For some reason, it seemed awfully familiar, as if she had seen this cat before. Then she shook her head at her own foolishness. A lot of cats looked the same, especially if they were black. She held the turkey out and made kissing noises, trying to coax the feline out.

"Nessie, come on! We're going to be late for dinner," Harry muttered.

Nesmay turned and glared at him. "Shhh! You'll frighten her!" She turned back to the cat.

Only to discover that the cat had scuttled even further back into the alley, deeper into the shadows.

Nesmay started to follow, but Draco grabbed her shoulder. "Nesmay, this is far enough. You really don't want to go any further."

"Draco, let go! The cat needs me."

"Cats can take care of themselves." Draco said dismissively, there was something dangerous here, it was making the hair on the back of his neck prickle in warning.

"You can come back tomorrow and see if it's still there," Harry persuaded.

"How? It's the weekend, we won't be back till Monday," Nesmay pouted.

"Now that simply won't do at all," drawled a new voice from behind them.

As the three spun to face this unexpected visitor, the temperature dropped about twenty degrees and frost and ice began forming along the bricks and the cobblestones. Harry started to shiver and he wished he had worn his jacket. He tugged out his wand, for some sixth sense told him he was going to need it. "Why in hell is it so cold?"

Nesmay felt her fae senses flare in warning. "Because winter comes where the Unseelie walk," she spat, her kingwood wand sputtering with her ambient magic. "Who are you? Did Maeve send you? The treaty between Winter and Summer still holds."

The tall figure at the mouth of the alley chuckled, his form etched with blue light. "Wrong, my lady. The treaty has been broken, since I was cheated of what was mine." He walked forward two paces, a grim smile upon his face.

Nesmay went deathly pale. "Jarillion!"

He bowed mockingly, his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Well met again, princess. Fancy meeting you here."

"You . . .you followed me here?" she croaked, suddenly terribly afraid. At the Summer court she had blithely mocked his pretensions and his arrogance, but she knew she was protected from his wrath by her grandmother and the sanctions imposed upon the Unseelie by their Seelie cousins. Such things didn't hold true any longer outside of the Fae Realm.

"Titania tried to renege on her deal by sending you to the mortal realm, but we Unseelie aren't as stupid as you think," Jarillion declared, his lips curling into a sneer.

"I was never promised to you in marriage!" Nesmay flared. "I don't know what lies you're spinning—"

"Watch yourself, girl! You dare accuse a member of the royal house of lies? That's treason!"

"Who cares? She's not your subject, Ice Prince!" Draco jeered.

"Soon she shall be my bride," Jarillion stated.

"I'd hang myself first!" Nesmay spat, revulsion clawing at her.

The Unseelie prince laughed. "I'll thaw that rebellious fiery spirit quick enough. Come now, my dear. No need to get rough."

"What part of no don't you understand?" Nesmay scowled, but it was an act. She knew Jarillion was dangerous, all the Unseelie were, but none so much as those of the royal house, who had been trained for centuries in the arts of murder, espionage, poison, and dark magic. "How did you find me, anyway? My grandmother would have never told you."

"For the right price, anyone can be bought," Jarillion chuckled. "Power is a great motivator."

Nesmay felt her heart go chill. She knew that only one member of her family might have been convinced to betray her, one member that despised her and wanted her gone, her heart screamed silently. She should not have been surprised, he had always hated her for killing her mother at birth, yet even so . . .she had thought he would have drawn the line at trading her like a sack of merlinnas to a cold-hearted evil man. She felt something innocent within her shatter. Uncle, How could you? I was right. I might bear the Highstar name, but I shall never be one of them. Sudden tears stung her eyes. But she lifted her head and glared at her archenemy.

"Jarillion, go back to the hell that spawned you. Whatever my uncle promised you was not his to give. I'll marry you over my dead body." She pointed her wand at him and tried to summon up her magic.

A hairy muscled arm suddenly clamped about her throat, cutting off her breath. "Sun princess show respect to Ice Prince Lord!" growled a guttural voice in her ear. The foul breath, like rotting meat, and the harsh accent told her she was held captive by an orc, the flesh-eating henchmen of the Unseelie royals.

"Now, Grulf, don't damage her too much," chided the prince. "I want a wife, not a corpse." He said something else in the guttural orcish language, and tossed the big yellow-skinned tusked creature something metal that glittered.

The orc snapped his hand out and caught the object. Grunting with pleasure, he clasped it round Nesmay's neck.

Nesmay felt an icy jolt shoot through her and she screamed and reached up her hands to tug upon the cold silver collar. Her wand fell to the ground beside her feet. "What . . .have you done to me?" she sobbed hoarsely.

"It's a Collar of Restriction." Jarillion said smoothly. "So long as you wear it, your magic shall be bound. I've heard stories about you, girl. Your mortal magic might be powerful, but even it can be brought to heel."

Nesmay struggled against the collar. She felt as if it were cutting off her breath and worse, smothering her magic. One moment she had been filled with the fiery glow of her magic, and the next she was cut off. She tried to reach her power, but it was as if she was a Muggle, she could not feel it, it was locked away. Frantic, she clawed at the icy silver band.

"Let her go, you half-wit bastard!" Harry yelled, shooting off a Burning Hex at the conceited prince.

Jarillion laughed and batted it aside lazily. "You'll have to try harder than that, little sorcerer."

Draco, meanwhile, charged at the orc holding Nesmay prisoner. He leaped into the air and kicked at the big creature's head.

It felt as if he had slammed his foot into a rock.

The orc grunted and staggered, releasing Nesmay.

Draco landed on the ground, his foot aching, but he had his hands up in a defensive position.

The orc drew a huge blade, like a scimitar, and growled at Draco. "Kill yellow-haired boy!"

"No!" Nesmay howled, trying desperately to access her magic. But she might as well have been trying to fly without a broom. All she gave herself was a headache.

Draco watched his opponent warily, the orc was both bigger and stronger than he was, as well as better armed. He moved backwards towards the end of Knockturn Alley. He thought about shouting for help, but he knew the policy of the shopkeepers here—don't get involved, no matter what.

Jarillion shouted something else in the harsh orc tongue and three more of the tusked beasts appeared in the alley and one of them swung a club at Draco's head. It glanced off the boy's temple and he fell to the ground, knocked unconscious.

The big orc raised his scimitar and Nesmay shrieked and threw herself over Draco's body. "Kill him and you kill me, pig-snout!"

Jarillion saw and snapped out another order in orcish. The orcs halted and one snatched Nesmay and threw her over his shoulder. Then he turned and started marching back to an oval glowing hole in the far wall.

Nesmay tried to get her captive to release her and she banged her fists upon the orc's muscular back, cursing in the fae tongue.

"Nesmay! Draco!" Harry shouted, and fired a Stunning Hex at the big orc.

But his aim was off and it bounced against the narrow wall, fizzled and died.

"Nice try, boy." The Winter prince mocked. He drew his sword and an icy flame appeared in his palm. "Prepare to meet your Maker."

Harry looked up at the handsome fae lord and shuddered. There was no compassion in his eyes, he was all frost, eyeing Harry with an inhuman emotionless expression. Harry knew then he was as close to death as he'd ever been. Jarillion would kill him with about as much remorse as swatting a mosquito. But he would not go quietly into the dark. He was a Snape and the heir to Prince Manor. "Come and get me then." He taunted, his green eyes filled with anger. "But know this, Your Highness. Kill me and you'll never be able to stop running."

"And why is that?"

"Because my father and Sarai Valinek will never stop hunting you to avenge my death and my brother's. And I wouldn't doubt if the Summer Queen herself wouldn't put a price on your head for slaying one of her relatives. I am her cousin through my father's bloodline. You won't live long enough to enjoy what you stole, prince."

Jarillion thought about it. He could tell the boy was speaking the truth. He did have blood ties to the Queen, and while Jarillion knew he might get away with taking Nesmay due to the contract he'd drawn up with Oberon, it might cause a war if he were to slay the son of the Heir to Prince Manor. And Queen Maeve would not be pleased. "Very well. You can be my hostage. We'll see what your father is willing to pay for your ransom, boy."

Then he tossed the blue flame at Harry's head.

Harry tried to dodge, but the ice bolt smashed into his forehead and his last thought was how this was the worst headache he had ever endured. He crumpled to the ground, his face and neck coated with a sheen of frost.

Jarillion nudged him with his boot. "Stupid mortals. Always willing to die for each other. Pathetic!" He bent down to pick up Harry.

As he lifted the comatose wizard, the silver chain of Harry's medallion, which had gotten frozen to the ground, snapped and the amulet slipped free and fell to the cobbles. Jarillion kicked it with his foot as he went to pick up Draco as well. "I probably should kill the spare, but . . .two hostages are better than one." He snatched up the kingwood wand also, not wanting to leave anything behind for someone to find.

The medallion skittered across the slick stone and came to rest just inside the mouth of the alley.

The Unseelie prince stalked over to the blue glittering oval, whispered a word, and the oval showed a gray fortress surrounded by snow, with orc footprints clearly visible in the desolate landscape. Jarillion stepped through the Gate and then it shut behind him, leaving no trace behind save for the silver medallion half-coated with ice.