Chapter One – The Summons and Growing Up

"Would you care to run that by me again Firebrand?" came the immaculate speech of the queen as she sat upon her polished wooden thrown covered in pelts, as she was currently glaring down at the party before her. Upon her orders, Frik had sent the request for the leader of the Phoenixes to appear in her court to try and explain the phenomenal new child resting on her lap. Now, a contingent of five magnificent red and gold birds perched in front of her on artfully twisting stands of platinum silver, gratefully provided by Frik upon their arrival to see the queen.

"My queen, I said that none of our kind has ever produced another being not of our own before. It is as much a mystery to us as it is to you." Exclaimed the lead phoenix as he observed the child currently nestled in the queen's lap, and who was looking up at them in wide eyed fascination the way only a new-born infant could. "If you would permit it, I would like to examine the child, to see if he has any of our traits, or if we are able to look into his future, as phoenixes are able to do, my queen?"

Peering at the being shrewdly, Mab conjured a large pedestal to lay the child on for the mythical bird to examine where she could keep a close watch. Gracefully the phoenix glided over to the pedestal, careful to keep his razor-like talons out of the infants reach. Slowly as to portray no hostility, the bird brushed the tips of his softly glowing wing across the child's crown. "Fascinating, he shows no discomfort to heat my queen, I am currently steadily increasing the temperature of my feathers to that of our kinds preferred 2000 degrees Celsius, which is more than enough to melt steel, yet he shows no reaction at all!" said the bird in wonderment. Never had he seen a human withstand anything close to this feat.

As Firebrand reduced the heat along his feathers, he carefully raised a talon to Harry's left leg, and drawing a small line of blood, proceeded to cry over the wound he had just inflicted. "He is still susceptible to lacerations, and does not have our kinds tough skin," he observed as he healed the slight gash he had made. As he lowered his wing to the child again, this time delivering it into the child's hand he leaned so that he was beak to nose with the boy, "pull my feather child," he instructed softly. Unexpectedly, and quite humorously for Frik and the queen, Firebrand was shaken off his perch on the pedestal, and squawked rather unceremoniously as Harry proceeded to flail his tiny hands about in glee at getting to touch the pretty bird in front of his nose.

Coming to the phoenix's rescue, Mab quickly detached the small boy's hand from Firebrand so that he could right his ruffled feathers, "He is a strong one I see," stated the queen as they smiled down at the giggling baby.

"It would appear so Queen Mab, his strength far surpasses that of my kind, might I suggest being very careful as to who handles the boy until such a time he has learned to control his strength. It seems his laughter is like that of our songs as well and can influence the emotions of those in his presence" continued Firebrand now safely out of Harry's reach. "Sadly, I am not able to see his future at this time my queen. It may be that he is too young to read as can be the case sometimes. Also, I am not able to test if he has the ability to be rebirthed as is the special trait unique to our kind on our burning days. Maybe in time you will discover this fact; I can however say with some certainty, that he will age differently to that of regular humans. From his lifeforce I can estimate that he will age one year for every nine of theirs."

Carefully considering all that they had learned today, Mab handed Harry over to Frik, who proceeded to play peek-a-boo with the child. "Thank you for your analysis Firebrand," stated Mab, "If we happen to determine the existence of any rebirthing flames I will make sure to pass it onto you, for now though, I have felt an extraordinary gift for magic the likes not seen before, and will be raising him as my heir to the Night Court."

This surprised all those in attendance, Frik included, as Mab had only recently (for a Faery) ascended to her thrown, and to suggest such a thing so soon was unheard of. Picking up Harry again, she glided from the chamber to continue playing with him, leaving Frik to finish her meeting with Firebrand and his party, as well as listening to any other things needing to be brought before the crown for the day.

# Time Skip – Thirty-six years #

"Now Master Harry, there are three types of wizards in the world," Frik explained. He was currently using his ability to shapeshift to the delight of the now four-year-old Harry and the exasperation of Mab who was observing the lesson. "The first and by far the weakest of magic users, are those that use incantations, or spells as well as using some form of focus, my young master," here Frik paused in front of the desk Harry is using, to point a smooth wand at the desk, "patera" he proclaimed, and now sitting on the table top, was a polished silver goblet fit for a noble house. "The second type of magic users, and quite a bit more powerful, are hand wizards. They cast their will and intent upon the world using gestures of the hands and fingers, like such," and twirling his fingers around the goblet he wordlessly turned it from silver to gold. "Lastly, my handsome liege, are the strongest of the magic users, those like our dearest queen, are wizards of pure thought, those who need no words or gestures to cast their will upon this world." At this the queen just rolled her eyes at Frik's over explanation, while turning his black teachers outfit to a frilly pink affair, causing Harry to giggle and clap at the show of magic his mother and friend were performing.

"Mummy, can I do magic like you and Fwik?" asked Harry shyly slurring Frik's name as he was still learning.

"Of course, my little firebird" Mab cooed to the young boy, bringing forth a megawatt smile in return, "but you must start at the beginning like the rest of us, with books! Remember my baby, the more you know and learn, the more powerful you will become." She lectured.

For the next thirty-six years, until the age of eight, Harry would become the castles resident bookworm, using his developing magical talents in new and creative ways to evade Frik, abscond with new books from the library when he should be going to bed, and all around being a happy child spending time with his mother.

The staff of the castle, and even the Night Court had also seen a change in Mab over the years; going from the fair and sharped-tongued Queen who rarely showed more than a polite smile, to a now happily smiling monarch who was less biting and more considerate with her words. Overall, it was a welcome change accepted by almost all. That is not to say there were no issues within the Court. On more than one occasion, Harry had to be sheltered from the masses who were drawn to the boy's happy nature, as his power over their emotions would cause a euphoric outburst that would overpower their sensibilities, and had led to more than one family trying to abduct him for themselves. Those who had tried quickly found that even though the queen's temperament at court may have mellowed, she could still be incredibly harsh in her retribution.

The day after his eighth birthday, Mab had sent for a master swordsman to be brought to court to begin Harry's physical training. Answering her call, was two such swordsmen. A young Witcher by the name of Vesemir, and a berserker of a man, a human named Guts. Vesemir, while not as muscular or as imposing as Guts, was by no means weaker, in fact, Vesemir had been noted as a remarkable monster hunter at the early age of fifteen after undergoing the Trial of the Grasses to become a Witcher. Witchers are known to possess superhuman physical capabilities, senses to rival even those of the Night Court, and an impressive immunity to poisons approaching but not quite meeting that of the phoenixes and unicorns. He stands next to Guts waiting on the queen and her entourage in his now recognizable dark blue gambeson, worn leather armor, chainmail, dark brown stitched pants, studded leather greaves, and two swords on his back – one steel, and the other purest silver.

Next to him, in all of his imposing one-eyed glory, was Guts. The now legendary warrior stood tall in his all black steel plated armor, leaning on the beast of a sword standing almost as tall as himself. His right arm a corded mass of muscle and crisscrossing scars, his left arm cut off at the elbow showed a cannon affixed with an articulating metal hand. He looked as bored as could be also waiting on the ones who had summoned him. Usually he and Vesemir would not get involved with the training of others, especially those of noble or high birth, as they felt it a waste of time and effort to work with the pampered little shits who cry at the first sign of a scratch, let alone the drawing of their own blood.

As Queen Mab descended the stairs behind her throne from her antechamber, with Harry at her side holding her hand, a hush fell over the court. As always they were in awe to see their mellowed queen and her prince. Taking her throne, Harry sat beside her in a small seat to observe her actions for the day, always learning as much as he could from both her way of ruling, as well as how those who came before her presented themselves. He always found it funny and annoying how some of them would try to grovel before his mother to try and curry favor, even after all these years of it still not working for them. He desperately wanted to tell them that it was not needed and that it did more harm than good, but knew it was not his place to do so.

Eager to get things moving Mab asked both legendary swordsman "Do you both know why I have summoned you to my home?"

"As I understand it your highness, you would like for us to train your son to be a swordsman, is that correct?" asked Vesemir for clarification, "I am quite curious though as to why you would call for two warriors outside of your court for this Queen Mab?"

"Yes, why should we train some wet behind the ears whelp? We are fighters, not tutors." Fired back Guts.

Dismissing Guts' rough nature, Mab smiled indulgently at Harry as he held a starry-eyed gaze on the warriors swords, "Because gentlemen, my son is to be trained by the best, and needs to learn how to fall before he can learn to lead. I need you both to push his body to its limits and beyond as I am pushing his mind. You will find, he is quite energetic, and more than able to take a small scratch," she smirked thinking back to the time Harry had fallen down a flight of the castle steps, after attempting to magically and wordlessly tie Frik's boot laces and instead tying his own by mistake.

Taking the lead Vesemir continued to question the queen on the lessons Harry had already undergone to try and gauge his readiness. "As a Witcher, I am versed in more than just swordplay ma'am. We are also taught things like alchemy and monster lore; are these things you will be wanting him to learn as well?"

"No, my son has been studying magic, alchemy, lore, and other subjects for the past seventy-two years."

At this both men started and turn to the prince to make sure that their eyes weren't deceiving them as to how young he looked compared to the number the queen had just thrown at them, especially as if she was to be believed, that would make the small boy in front of them almost four times older than Vesemir's eighteen, and twice that of Guts at twenty-seven.

"Sorry your highness, but did you say that the Prince is seventy-two years of age? I was under the impression that he was closer to eight or nine?" asked Vesemir.

"My son ages quite a bit slower than that of a regular human, Witcher. For every nine of your human years, my son advances only one year in body and mind; as such, his eighth birthday was yesterday." Explained Mab.

This news certainly shocked both men, as while they had heard of, and in Vesemir's case, seen instances of very long lived beings, most members of the faery kingdoms falling into this category, they have never seen one age this slowly before. "How long will you be expecting us to stay and train the prince, your highness? I ask as I am usually traveling for my guild, exterminating monster related issues; and I am sure Guts cannot spend too extensive a time away from his company, who have just come out of a war?" asked Vesemir.

"You need not be required to be present at the same time, or even the entire time of his training. You will find that once given instruction, and the steps to completing a task, he is able to work independently and efficiently to improve his own skills. It is my experience while teaching him magic, that one or two visual examples, and he is able to perfectly understand and complete any given instructions. I would like for you both to devise a work out strategy to hone his body to prepare for your sword training, and help provide experience once he has mastered the needed steps for him to grow in your professions, gentlemen."

Throughout the conversation between Vesemir and the queen, Guts had been studying Harry and critically thinking about how best to approach the boy's training. Harry at this time is a leanly built child, who seemed built more for speed than brute strength. Maybe a classic longsword, or a rapier, or maybe even a Jian would be better suited to him than a bastard sword or a great sword.

Again, not standing on ceremony, Guts beckons the prince to step up to him and shake his hand, a small test of his grip and upper arm strength. Once again both men are thrown for a loop as Harry shakes Guts' arm, almost breaking his hand and ripping the larger man's arm from its socket as he shakes him harder than any child had a right to. "My god kid, what the hell are they feeding you in this place!" he exclaims massaging his now aching shoulder, wrist, and hand.

"As my queen has said Mr. Guts, the prince is no mere human. He is the first to ever be born from the egg of a Phoenix, with many talents including super strength and agility, and the same affinity for fire as the phoenixes themselves. He is however still susceptible to cuts and bruises." Frik spoke up for the first time in the meeting. "Prince Harry is very energetic and has a fondness for tricks and jests, and in the course of fleeing away from the scene, we have found he is more agile then any cat, stronger than the phoenixes from whom laid the egg he hatched from, and crafty enough to keep you wondering for weeks whether he got you in a trap, or if it was your own misfortune." At this the court felt a wave of cheerfulness wash over them as Harry was giggling in remembrance of some of his pranks on Frik.

"A remarkable child to be sure your highness, it would be my honor to train him" proclaimed Vesemir in wonderment, Guts not far behind in agreement.

"Excellent, please meet my son in the courtyard on the morrow to begin his instruction, for now it is past noon, and past time for him to begin his magical instruction once again. He will begin his day starting at five in the morning from now on to work on your lessons, before moving to his magical studies with Frik at one, after his midday meal. Coordinate with Frik, he will help." She commanded, "Harry my dearest, you will follow their instructions to the letter, am I clear?"

Smiling up at his mother Harry nodded, eager to begin his training the next day.

"Okay Prince, before you even begin picking up live steel, we must first condition your body to its peak, to better withstand the stresses of combat." Stated Vesemir looking down on the wide awake and bouncing eight-year-old boy. "I know you are more than strong enough to swing a sword, but we must build up your endurance and flexibility to avoid injury."

"The kid's right Prince," followed up the burly berserker. "I might look like a wall of muscle, but if I didn't stretch and learn to be loose in a fight, I'd be dead before I could swing my sword all the way around. The sword is more than a piece of steel, it is your life, your soul, it is an extension of yourself. Before you can even think of mastering it, you must first master yourself."

"I couldn't have said it better myself Guts" smiled Vesemir. "Alright young prince, to begin we will start your physical regiment with…"

#

For the next twenty-seven years, Harry was religiously and vigorously trained daily in the art of the sword, magic, lore, alchemy, and the Code of Chivalry, among a slew of other areas and topics. He would begin his day with physical conditioning before and after breakfast, followed with the teachings of Chivalry and honor, until after lunch, when he would begin his more intellectual studies under Frik, often accompanied by the Queen. At the age of eleven, Harry had gone from a thin yet healthy boy, to a tightly wound spring of muscle and sinew ready to strike at a moment's notice. He was just about finished learning from Vesemir and Guts, having long since mastered the techniques that they had to teach him, now continuing to gain experience to complete his training. His magical studies under Frik and the Queen having ended the previous year, and while not learning all of their secrets, they had encouraged him to branch out on his own to find his own areas of interest and self-study.

Today was his eleventh birthday celebration and had been opened for the kingdom to join them in the main hall of the Night Court's castle. Twelve roaring fires of differing color and temperature lined the walls and the many circular tables that littered the hall surrounding an open dance floor, with candles floating overhead brought a warm and comforting atmosphere to the party. Out on the floor were many couples, as well as the queen and her son. "Are you ready my child? It is almost time for you to go on your first journey." Whispered Mab softly, not wanting to break the comfortable feeling of holding her son as they danced.

"Almost Mom, I just have a few more things to pack. Frik offered to help, but I wanted to do this on my own. I need to start seeing the world, to gain the experiences to make me a wise and fair ruler, just like you mom." Harry explained bringing a tired and bittersweet smile to Mab's lips.

Mab had tried to talk Harry out of this idea of his many times now, but it was never a success. Her little baby boy wanted to stretch his wings so to say. He wanted adventure as much as she wanted to keep him safe here in her arms, no matter that he was turning eleven, that is to say, he is ninety-nine human years old as of this day. He was too mature for her liking, but she would never hold her baby back so long as he wanted to improve himself. Sighing she nodded her head in defeat, "Alright my son, but you must take a companion with you, I will not have my son alone and unguarded out in this world. It is much too dangerous. And I understand Vesemir will be unavailable; from what I hear he has gone back to his home at Kaer Morhen to train the newest batch of Witchers, a few promising prospects among them if Frik is correct, and Guts is much too old to be adventuring with you now. He is fifty-seven after all, a frail age for a human."

"Yes mom, I was thinking of taking one of the house elf from the kitchens. The one named Dobby. He is a bit eccentric, but very dedicated in his duties." Harry accepted.

Thinking for a moment Mab considered this choice of companions before nodding her head in acquiescence. "Very well, but you must keep in touch. I know you have mastered that flaming ability you have been learning from the phoenixes, so I expect a letter at least once per weak." She stated brooking no argument on the subject.

"Yes mom." Harry just smiled and danced with his mother for his last night at home before leaving on his big adventure the next morning.


Author's Note:

Hey guys, thank you again for reading my story! I got hooked writing this chapter and was able to belt it out. Please enjoy, and remember, any constructive criticism is welcome.

Until the next chapter.