The conclusion. It'll be a good thing to keep in mind at this time that is AU so however this ends it's just one interpretation of where I see the characters COULD end up. Maybe there is more to be told of events following this installment, but for me, this is where the storyline ends. It was a lot longer than I thought it would be and I hope I told this AU's conclusion as best and as entertainingly as I could.
Previous Installments are: The Best of Me, The World's a Stage, Schadenfreude, and Friendly Fire.
For all the neon highlighted, underlined twice and circled in red warnings that Harry ran across during his research into the Abscido, actually calling them proved to be a simple matter. Or rather, transporting himself to their apparently very secret, difficult to find, no one knows where it is location hadn't proved to be very challenging.
While centuries of existence had made the Abscido into a conglomerate buried under legend and myth, Harry with his talent for stripping away ornamentation had deduced that the Abscido were at the crux of it a very small group made up of once wizards, now something more akin to a priestess clan, immortal and secretive.
"Great. A magical cult," Harry had muttered to himself.
They remained a blind spot to most, impossible to contact, wanting to be left alone in their reclusive state to meditate on matters no doubt only important to them. It seemed the only ones who could still reach them in some capacity were human wizards, their own ancestors that the Abscido might believe they'd evolved away from, but could never fully shake off. Their anti-social nature usually suited the rest of the supernatural world just fine. But every once in awhile, their more particular talents were called for.
The binders, the seer had called them. They were the trappers. Nothing they caught and sealed could ever escape, unless released by the Abscido themselves. Or so the books in Harry's library claimed. To try and locate them was considered folly. Only members of an exalted order such as the High Council or someone perhaps favored by the Abscido had any right to call upon them. There were long pages of warnings against anyone else trying.
Harry skimmed through that part.
Studying over what calling them entailed, the wizard once again employed his fine nut shelling skills and cut to the heart of the matter. That being that calling the Abscido was more a matter of will. The actual location and transportation spell was almost simple in comparison. But one had to be determined. Someone would have to open the door eventually if one knocked on it long enough and was annoying enough. And being annoying was something Harry considered his area of competence.
After a full year of searching for an answer, all it took Harry was a five minute incantation and a lot of concentration of power on his part and suddenly, he was there.
The transportation, as always, left the wizard feeling a little like his bones had gotten to the location first with his skin and muscles following at a 30 second delay. Once the aching dialed down to a manageable level, he looked around and realized he was standing in what appeared to be a forest. An ordinary forest.
The only difference he could pick out after a few moments of observation was that everything was unusually quiet. There were no birds chirping or insects buzzing. Not even a single leaf rustled. It felt to Harry like he was standing in the eye of a tornado, where everything was still, silent and dead compared to the world that whirled around him.
"Are you insane, wizard?"
Harry spun around at the voice. Sitting behind him on a large rock was a woman who he could swear had not been there before. Her face was unlined and youthful with eyes that were about a hundred years older than the rest of herself. Her thin lips were curved into a grimace as she gave Harry a distasteful look that was practically the standard for the wizard when meeting new people.
"Are you insane, wizard?" she repeated.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was intercepted before he could.
"He must be insane," stated another voice somewhere behind him. Looking over, he saw it was the same woman, or at least someone who shared her face. "He has located us. What a fool."
"A fool," agreed the first woman.
"Very much a fool," concurred a third, identical woman.
I've been transported to a musical, Harry thought, reflexively turning to humor against the mounting danger around him.
"Uh, listen," he began, the prepared speech he had in his mind going out the window. "I'm here to talk to you about a soul you cursed."
"He addresses us," hissed the first, leaving her rock to approach him. When Harry gripped his hockey stick at her approach, she flicked her fingers and staff slammed down into the ground, disappearing into the earth so quickly it left burns on the wizard's hands. "Who are YOU, little man?" she demanded.
Knowing it was a rhetorical question, Harry answered anyway. "I'm Harry Dresden and I-"
"Quiet!" commanded the second, who approached him and got up close enough to inhale the air around him. "Dresden," she murmured. "You are a Morningway. There is the same blood in your veins."
"Um…don't hold it against me?" tried Harry. His palms still hurt from the loss of his staff. He was now that much more defenseless, having only his wand hidden in his pocket. Wisely, he decided to keep that hidden for the time being. The wizard kept still as a third of the Abscido breathed in another lungful of his scent and vaguely wondered if he should have showered before coming. He tried not to flinch when the third woman did the same thing.
"Brash and dangerous like his mother," breathed the first woman, who seemed to enjoy invading Harry's personal space.
"Arrogant and powerful like his uncle," intoned the second.
"Hated and shunned by the Council," pronounced the third.
"Excuse me," Harry interjected, scrunching up his shoulders to pull his limbs in as much as possible when all three woman encircled him. "As much as I'm enjoying 'This Is Your Life', I'm here to talk to you about a soul you cursed. Hrothbert of Bainbridge."
Almost immediately, the three women took a step back in unison. It gave Harry more room, but oddly made him feel more exposed. Judging by the way they were staring at him now, it seemed he'd struck a big nerve.
The second woman pointed a long finger at him, her sharp nail stabbing the air. "He is the keeper of the Bainbridge skull," she hissed.
"The ghost must remain on earth, bound by his sins," declared the third.
"Do not attempt to destroy the cursed spirit, how much it may ask," warned the second. "The soul is ensnared by us. It must suffer and howl for its sins. Do not release-"
"Wait, hang on a second!" interrupted Harry. "I'm not here to talk about destroying anything. I'm here because," he sought for the right words. "The soul you cursed to the skull's been….altered." The Abscido gave him a questioning stare. "It got split and half of it got destroyed."
There was a pause before the third woman spoke, "You have lost the soul of Bainbridge?" she demanded.
"I didn't LOSE anything, lady," Harry retorted, his manners long gone. "There was this trickster and he struck some sort of deal with-"
"The trickster?" The word was said in unison, but for the first time, the wizard saw a difference in the three faces. While the first two women practically snarled the name, the third looked intrigued. Almost wistful. "You have dealings with the trickster!" accused the first woman, already backing away. "He is a bait. A trap!"
"Hey, wait a second," demanded Harry. "Can I talk for a minute?"
"Wizard, what have you done?" demanded the second. "You have come to us as a Trojan Horse."
"I wouldn't give them that much credit," stated a new arrival.
All four heads turned toward the large tree where the voice had come from. While the Abscido remained rigid in their stance, Harry practically sagged in frustrated exhaustion at the familiar voice.
Oh, HELL. Not again.
But when the figure stepped out from behind the tree, it was not the usual tall form of the trickster, but a small, thin-boned woman. Her dark auburn hair was tucked behind her in a thick braid, her dress a simple grey frock. She smiled pleasantly with her hands clasped behind her back, her head tilted. At the apparition, Harry could hear the Abscido suck in an apprehensive breath and he got the feeling he was the only one present who didn't recognize the new woman.
"You should listen to what he has to say," advised the trickster in the female form. "It's true that half of Hrothbert's soul is gone. The important part. The part that loved me, the part that feels remorse for what he did. The part that suffers. The only thing left is the Black part of him that merely waits to be freed."
The Abscido only continued to stare at the trickster in his new form, the first two women venomous, the third looking only troubled. At the prolonged silence, a look of exaggerated hurt appeared on the trickster's young face. "Or do you no longer care, Abscido?" she asked, tears filling the green eyes. "I thought you were incensed over what he did to me? I thought you wanted him punished for his crimes? Do you no longer care for me?"
The thin image rippled, changing until the hair was loosened from the braid, spiraling around her head in mad waves. Her frock was now stained and stiff with dried blood. Harry could see a large, jagged tear in the dress, as if a knife had been plunged into it, though there was no accompanying wound. Her face was twisted in anguish as she addressed the Abscido. "Do you no longer care what he did to me? He has driven me mad! He will not let me die!" She gripped and wrenched at her mud-caked hair. "I only wish to die! I wish to die! Let me die! I want to die!" she screamed repeatedly.
While the wizard stared in horror at the sight, the second Abscido finally moved forward. With a calm, determined air, she drew back her hand and soundly punched the shrieking figure. The blow was hard enough to lift the woman off her feet as she flew back a few paces, landing on her back. The screaming abruptly stopped.
"Filth," she hissed, vehemently. "You dare appear in her form to sway us?"
The laid out body began to laugh from the ground, the voice now masculine again. When he rose up to a sitting position, the trickster was as he usually appeared. "Oh, come on. Lighten up a little."
The second woman only snarled as she moved swiftly back to rejoin the others as the trickster got to his feet. "Abscido," the demigod grinned. "You don't return my calls, you don't answer my emails. I'm beginning to think you're ignoring me," he stated, addressing the third woman. To Harry's surprise, it looked as if she almost blushed as she quickly averted her face. "It's taken me forever to find you. I had to stick to Dresden of all losers here to finally locate your super secret lair. I've never in my life had to do so much pushing and prodding to get someone on the right track. I had to leave behind clues and bribe a seer to steer him right."
At the mention of past events, Harry started. And despite telling himself not to, the wizard found himself broadcasting his confusion. "How the hell…? Why…?"
"You really think I agreed to be your guardian forever and ever JUST for the pleasure of owning Bainbridge's other name?" the trickster demanded. "How have you survived this long being this dense, Dresden? Did I say? Where ever you go, I go. And let me tell you, it was a freaking LONG wait to get you to go here."
In his life, Harry had several experiences of being taken for a fool. He'd had clients who'd duped and used him. His own uncle had even shaped his entire childhood to mold him to be used as a weapon of sorts. But never in his life had Harry felt this much wool ever pulled over his eyes. He'd never felt this deceived, this blinded. The last year rose up in his memory, the hell he'd experienced all the more acute. Without weighing the pros and cons of it, the wizard whipped out his wand and pointed it at the trickster with naked fury.
"Don't beat yourself up too much," the trickster advised, unconcerned by the weapon brandished at him. "You were duped. By me. And I'm the best," he stated.
With a furious roar, Harry let loose a blast of energy from the wand. The trickster quickly ducked the charge as it slammed into the ground where he'd been standing, leaving a medium-sized crater that smoked. Without pausing, Harry tried again, this time taking a large portion of a tree when the demigod dodged again.
"Enough!" shouted the first Abscido. Reflexively, Harry whipped around and pointed the wand at her. "You challenge ME, wizard?" she laughed. She merely flicked her fingers again. There was no light or sound, but only a ripple in the air that moved toward Harry with undivided concentration. Before the wizard could react, he felt a hand grab his collar and drag him out of the wave's path. When it finally struck a rock, the stone disintegrated into dust.
Still holding onto him, the trickster groaned. "I CANNOT believe I still have to protect you. I'm SO going to love ditching this job."
Harry twisted out of the demigod's grasp. Rounding on him, the wizard didn't shout, but the quiet with which he spoke again made even the Abscido pause.
"You are dead," Harry declared.
A bolt of power shot out from the wizard's wand, twisted, thick and dark. It caught the trickster square in the chest, sending the demigod soaring back several feet, stopped only by a tree in his path. When he landed on the ground, it took him a few moments to pull himself up to his hands and knees. And even then, his movements were unexpectedly stiff and slow.
"Oh ho….man…." the trickster chuckled, despite the radiating agony as he staggered to his feet. "Now THAT was a punch. Crap, you're strong when you want to be, Dresden," he praised. When Harry raised his wand, the trickster lifted up a hand in a defeated gesture. "Okay, hang on, time out," he called.
"Go to hell," ordered Harry, flatly. He aimed again, but felt a force snap his arm down, pinning it to his side. When the wizard attempted to turn around, he found he couldn't.
"That is enough from you, wizard," stated one of the Abscido. Harry couldn't tell at first which it was, but then saw the somewhat contemplative way the woman looked from him to the crouching form of the trickster and guessed it was the third one. The one who was ever so slightly different from the other two.
Now more firmly on his feet, the demigod grinned at her. "Thanks, Abs. I knew you liked me."
"State your business, trickster," she ordered, curtly. "Do not mistake my mercy for affection."
"Is this because of that time in Madras?" questioned the trickster. "You still sore about me not taking you up on your of-"
"State your business," the third interrupted. "I will not ask again."
"Okay, okay," the trickster gave in. "I'm here to make a deal with you." The first Abscido behind Harry snorted derisively. "A deal," he continued, ignoring the interruption. "That I think you'll rather like."
"Go on," said the third.
"You Abscido are the only ones left who have it in your power to bind me. Chain me back to my rock if you wanted."
"And why would we want to do that, trickster?" asked the third. The smile that graced her lips was almost flirtatious, but unnerving.
The trickster grinned back and for a second it seemed to Harry they were sharing some sort of secret. He could hear the other two Abscido shift uneasily behind him. "Maybe not you personally," conceded the trickster. "But someone could ask you one day. Pay you to do it as they once did." Walking forward, the demigod stood closer to the shorter woman. "Say what you want about yourselves. At the end, you're mercenary like me."
Looking up at the towering demigod, the Abscido only deepened. "Hm. So what deal do you propose?" she asked.
"You agree never to harm me," he replied. "Never to catch me, trap me, bind me, curse me. No matter who asks. I will have your protection against even yourselves."
"And what do we get in return?"
"I'll restore Hrothbert of Bainbridge to you. All of him."
"What?" Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself.
"Dresden, just…" The trickster made an impatient shushing sound. "This has got nothing to do with you."
"What makes you think we would agree to such terms?" demanded the first Abscido, walking over to join the third. There was a mildly disapproving glare as she looked at the closely standing figures. "You have only taken a half of his soul. The other still remains, bound to his skull."
"You mean this?" asked the trickster. From the depths of his coat pocket, he drew out the familiar ancient skull, tightly wrapped by a decorated sash, wound over its eyes sockets and teeth. But even with the shielding spell, Harry could feel something radiating out of the bones. It wasn't just Bob's curse, which he'd felt before in the past. It was something more base, something malicious, dark and frighteningly devoid of any warmth. Based on the Abscido's reaction, he could see they felt it as well.
"Does cursing something like this really satisfy you?" the demigod inquired, waving the skull a little. "You've got a monster lock and key. And monsters don't suffer. Why else do you think people just kill them instead of torturing them? I thought you wanted to torture Bainbridge?"
"We punish him for his sins against her," murmured the second Abscido, walking closer to toward the skull, though she grimaced against its sensations.
"You need all of him, the better part of him in order to see him suffer," said the trickster. "Don't you think? As he is now, he's just heaps of hatred. He doesn't care about what he did. He feels nothing other than wanting to get free so he could come out and play again. Any lessons of remorse you love to teach are just bouncing off."
As if in response, the skull seemed to jerk a little in the trickster's hand, though Harry told himself he was just hallucinating.
"So, do we have a deal?" asked the trickster. "You give me your promise of eternal protection and I make Bainbridge the way he was."
"You have it in your power to restore him?" asked the third Abscido, staring at the skull.
"He handed me the name that Dresden gave him," said the trickster. "The name that's the better part of him. I can use it to make him whole again."
"Wait," Harry finally spoke, twisting unsuccessfully at the invisible binds that held him rooted to the ground. "This has to be a trick. He destroyed Bob with that name. He can't bring him back." While the wizard wasn't sure if the demigod did have the power or not, any hope he had at that being a possibility was getting drowned out by his newborn cautiousness after realizing the depth to which the trickster had used him. "He's lying to you."
"Dresden," sighed the trickster. "I really hope that when you look back on this moment, you feel about as stupid as you look right now." He turned back to the third Abscido. "Ignore the man in the corner. Now, do we have a deal?"
The third looked at the skull again, contemplating. Finally, she looked back up at the trickster and nodded. "We have a deal."
The other two Abscido moved forward in objection. "This is not-"
"We have a deal," the third cut in, firmly. "Restore this soul and we shall never harm you, trickster." She looked at the other two, who shook their head angrily at her. "We have no personal quarrel with the trickster. But we have every quarrel with the Bainbridge soul. If he is to feel agony at his imprisonment, he must be whole. And once he is whole, he will be ours."
"Awesome, we have a deal," the trickster cheered. "Now, want to shake on it or seal it the way we did last time?" he asked, a large smile now plastered on his face.
In response, the third Abscido extended her hand with stiff formality. When the demigod grasped the small fingers in his own, her body stiffened all the more. Seeing the reaction, the trickster's expression softened into something a little more mischievous. "Oh, go on," he murmured. "I always loved this part of the transaction with you." Not waiting for a proper answer, the trickster pulled her forward with their enjoined hands and kissed her.
There was a half-swallowed yelp of protest from all three of the Abscido as the trickster pressed his lips to the third. And Harry felt the invisible binds holding him in place suddenly disappear at the distraction. The third Abscido shoved the trickster away, her eyes burning angrily as he laughed at her reaction.
"You have really GOT to lighten up. You're a great kisser, don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he declared, chortling. "And now, my turn."
Using the free hand that had been holding the bound skull, the demigod tossed it into the air in front of him, where it stalled and hovered. Raising an arm, the trickster flexed his fingers toward the floating skull, summoning his will around the name as it formed in his mind. "Bob," he intoned with a ferocious grin. "I restore you."
The skull began to light up a bright gold. As the binding sash fell away, there was a momentary pulse of something black and evil. And for a split second, Harry felt the darkest part of the ghost's soul as it lay exposed for only a moment. But then it quickly fused and merged with the golden light as the trickster continued to flex his fingers, calling back the other part of the fractured spirit.
The light was now blinding and Harry was forced to shut his eyes to the illumination. But then as the glow grew so bright it even hurt from behind his eyelids, the wizard heard one of the Abscido shout. "What are you doing, trickster!? This was not the agreement!"
"I said I would make him whole," the demigod replied and Harry could still hear the smile in his voice. "And that's what I'm doing."
There was a loud clap of thunder and to Harry's horror, he recognized the very definite sounds of bones breaking.
There was a gust of wind that like a large hand, picked up Harry off his feet and pushed him backwards. While he braced himself for a painful landing, a bed of leaves broke the wizard's fall, burying him in dampness.
There was only silence.
And then the sound of rain cut in.
Harry wrestled his way out of wet pile of leaves, blinking his eyes open to see he was still in a forest. Only he recognized it as the woods just outside of the park near his apartment. The wizard staggered to his feet, something made difficult by the fact that wet leaves twisted around his legs. As he tried to step onto more solid ground, he nearly tripped over what he thought was a large branch, only to see it was his hockey stick, hidden amongst the foliage.
Also tucked amongst the fallen leaves were the remains of the cursed skull. The jawbone was now completely detached from the rest of the skull, though the rest of the skull was now nothing more than a pile of jagged fragments.
"Bob…"
Tripping forward, Harry grasped onto the sharp pieces. They slid against his fingers, slick from the rain. They felt surprisingly light. Empty of any magic or soul.
The skies had opened up and rain was coming down now in fierce sheets. The wizard blinked as rivets ran down his face, blurring his eyesight. But even with his wavering vision, he looked up from all that remained of his former teacher to see the tall figure of the trickster standing in front of him, smiling.
It took Harry two seconds to grab his staff and charge at the demigod. "You set me up!" he shouted.
"Dresden-"
Shoving the end of his staff against the trickster's neck, Harry only pushed his face closer to him in his rage. "You did all of this on purpose to get to the Abscido. You destroyed Bob because you knew I'd eventually find them so that you could make a deal and save your lousy hide."
"Well, yeah," the Trickster blinked. "Thanks for that recap. That's exactly it." When the hockey stick pressed against his neck in a choke, the demigod rolled his eyes. "You still haven't gotten kicking my ass out of your system, huh?"
"The Abscido might not hurt you," said Harry, darkly. "But I sure as hell can." The storm that had fallen upon them charged the already rising power inside the wizard with additional force. The air crackled as Harry's magic mounted.
"You going to 'self-defense' me to death too?" asked the trickster, putting on the appropriate air quotes. "Didn't you learn anything from Bob about not giving into darker desires?" he asked, using the ghost's other name.
"Shut up," Harry ordered, his grief mixing into the magic as it had before when he'd faced off against his uncle all those years ago. "Bob's gone. There's nothing left."
"Dresden, what're you blathering on about?" the trickster demanded impatiently. "Bainbridge is right there."
Forcefully grabbing onto Harry's shoulder, the demigod spun him around to look at the figure that lay on the ground a few yards from where they stood. While Harry's eyes told him he was seeing Bob, laying with his eyes closed on the ground as he'd last seen him in his dark suit, vest and ascot, the wizard refused to give into such a happy idea. Not after the last year and certainly not around the trickster. "The skull is broken," he only said. "He's gone. This is a trick."
"Jesus, I have to do everything around here," complained the trickster. Grasping Harry's wrist, the demigod yanked him forward with little ceremony toward the still figure, closing the distance in a few wide strides. He crouched by the figure, pulling Harry down with him and pushed the wizard's hand toward the ghost's chest.
Harry's fingers connected with the soft material of Bob's vest.
Even after the trickster released his wrist, Harry kept his hand where it was, not daring to blink. Under his fingers, he could feel the rise and fall of Bob's chest as the man breathed. He remained sleeping even as the rain soaked into his clothes and drenched the white hair, plastering it against his forehead that was no longer the ghostly pallor, but simply pale as any normal human.
Unconsciously, Harry gripped the material under his fingers into a fist. He faintly heard the trickster asking behind him if he was going to wake up Bainbridge already as they didn't have all day. The wizard grasped Bob's shoulder with his other hand, leaning over to shield him from the water that continued to be thrown down. Clenching the soaked clothing, Harry shook him.
"Bob?"
The pale eyes blinked open, staring up at the disbelieving wizard. And strangely, considering everything that had happened and everything that was happening, the first thought to enter into Bob's mind was how terribly young Harry looked, staring down at him with wide eyes. But soon after that thought, he began to take in his surroundings. Mainly the downpour and the uncomfortable feeling of heavy, rain-soaked clothing.
"Harry?" Bob blinked again. "Why…how am I getting wet?" he asked, uncomprehendingly.
The world tilted a little when the wizard pulled the former ghost up to a sitting position, the need to confirm what he was seeing, hearing and touching overriding the idea that he should maybe handle a newly made mortal with greater care. Harry's fingers bit down almost painfully on Bob's shoulder, while the other continued to make a mess of wrinkles into the vest, still bunching it up.
"You're…here," Harry stated, not able to think of any other way to put it. "You're not a ghost. You're you," he listed.
Before Bob could reply, he felt Harry suddenly drop his head against him. The wizard's forehead awkwardly pressed on the space just below his collarbone and Bob could feel the heat radiating from Harry against his own neck and the soft prickle of the dark hair rubbing his skin. The sensation of touch after such a long hiatus left the former ghost at a loss. It felt oddly foreign, but not all unpleasant. As moments passed, Bob began to take in other observations, such as the coldness of the ground underneath him in contrast to Harry's warmth and the fact he could even feel the tremors vibrating onto him, originating from the wizard.
Taking the last thought into consideration, Bob tentatively raised a hand and lightly pressed it against Harry's shaking back, feeling the soft leather of his ruined jacket.
Harry felt proud at the fact he didn't actually start sobbing. Forcing himself to pull back, the wizard saw the half bewildered look on Bob's face and felt his life finally be taken off the pause setting it'd gone on since waking up after that Narif's attack. "Hey, Bob," he nearly laughed at his own casualness. "Nice to see you."
There was a shadow of a familiar smirk on the pale face. "Likewise."
"Well, this is a moment that even Kodak and Hallmark would deem too sweet," stated the trickster, reminding them of his presence. In his hands, he sifted through the fragments of Bob's skull he'd picked up where Harry had dropped them. "I think I broke this," he said. "Oh, well. Not like you need it anymore anyway," he added, tossing the pieces carelessly over his shoulder.
"What did you do?" Harry asked. His voice was less accusatory by about half.
Shaking his head, the trickster addressed Bob instead. "This is the guy you gave up half your soul to protect? There's really no accounting for taste." He glared at Harry. "I restored him, as I agreed to do so with the Abscido."
"But." Harry recalled the screaming he'd heard before landing in the pile of leaves. "They thought you were going to just make Bob whole. Not bring him back to life."
The trickster shrugged. "Hey, sucks for them if they assumed that. I said, restore. This is restoring," he said. The demigod leaned down toward Bob who continued to sit on the wet ground. "I'm sure the Abscido and the High Council'll be all up on my and your ass about this. But don't worry," he grinned. "I won't let them tie you back up."
"Why?" Bob finally asked, staring at the uncharacteristic generosity.
"Something a seer once told me," replied the trickster. "You and I are apparently in the same boat. So you're under my protection now. Off you go, make some trouble." The demigod thumped Bob on the back with enough force to send him rocketing into Harry. But when the former ghost righted himself, he found he was now completely dry.
The trickster straightened and turned his face up to the sky. The rain abruptly ceased. "Inevitable fate, my ass," he said to no one in particular. "I'll say where I go. It's my rules now." He looked over at Bob who was being helped to his feet by a still drenched Harry. "You stay freed from your curse, Bainbridge," he ordered, seriously. "And I'll know there's no such thing as fate."
It seemed for a moment that Harry was gearing up to say something. Something possibly on the lines of grudging gratitude. Seeing it, the demigod quickly beat him to the talking. "Dresden, it was a nightmare and it's with great pleasure that I give back Bob's name. I'm done playing nanny to you. I sincerely hope you get eaten by a hellhound and I get a ringside seat."
He smirked as the wizard only glared back at him and instead of replying, only steadied Bob, keeping his hands on the other man's shoulder and arm. "I'd say look after him, but I think you already get the idea." And while it was unclear whether the trickster was addressing Harry or Bob about the other, it didn't really matter as it was true in either case.
Having done what he needed to do, the trickster vanished.
THE END