Disclaimer:

This is not, in any way, shape, or form, an attempt to depict the Dresden Files universe perfectly. There will be subtle differences (and much less subtle ones) in the characters and the world. I am not Jim Butcher, nor am I perfectly aware of all the details in the books. However, I will attempt to stay true to the defining characteristics of each person, so that they remain clearly recognizable for who they are, even if a bit changed - well, except Ivian.

And that's where the most audacious thing comes in - some say switching viewpoints in first person is a sure way to fail miserably. On top of that, inserting a whole new character in one of the main roles is probably not the subtlest of moves. It's a lot of fun, though, and there's no other way in my mind that this story would work. Having a rational!Dresden would either be a complete parody or force me to change the storyline entirely.

Note, this first chapter is only from Ivian's viewpoint, the second will be from Harry's, but later on I will experiment with flipping them a few times mid-chapter - at appropriate scene breaks, of course.

Was this inspired by Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality? Absolutely, but only in the principle of having smart people that do not think in mysterious ways and enemies that are not generic "oh, I want to destroy the world because I want it" overlords. The combination of humor and gritty detail is completely Dresden inspired.

Updates will come as I can manage them - once a week for now, faster when I have the time to write and edit. Author's notes besides this one - maybe.

Reviews and thoughts will be greatly appreciated.

Ivian

A piercing cry with intensity of at least 130 dB broke the air. My ears protested to it, as the pressure on the eardrums was rapidly approaching the breaking point. Naturally, my instinctive reaction was to get startled half-way out of my skin and stagger back a few steps, which, upon later reflection was probably the most rational thing to do, conditioned on the fact that it saved my bloody life.

Now, being in a narrow dark alley at night, and yes, I had a perfectly reasonable need to be there… anyway, being in a narrow alley, lit not very much above the threshold of visibility of my eyes, walking backwards in panic while maintaining proper balance was completely outside the scope of my ability. My instincts, however, did not take that into consideration and I fell on my ass. Right then, gleaming claws of some material that I did not recognize swept the air at the exact spot where my head had been two seconds ago.

At that point, I didn't much care about maintaining my image. In fact, caring about any other external factors was rendered irrelevant by the absolute terror which I felt. Seeing the large, black and menacingly looking humanoid was not a very good stimulus for calm and collected thoughts. It was too dark to see much of the thing, so my imagination provided me a suitably horrific interpretation of it. At that point I would have very much liked to yell:

"By the power of rationality, your probability of existence is infinitesimal."

Well, I didn't really manage it, not because of lack of wanting, but because my mouth had completely disconnected from my smartass part of the brain. The fact that I was busy screaming like a frightened little animal at that time might also have had something to do with it.

The thing reached for me. Up close, it looked like the most objective definition of ugly ever, and never you mind the inherent subjectivity of the whole concept. I briefly wondered how I looked from its point of view and decided on the word food, among other colorful descriptions which I avoided on the basis of not wanting to puke. Meanwhile, a long, slimy tongue slid out of a black mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. I raised my hand in a futile gesture, for it didn't much contribute to the likelihood of me surviving the next couple of seconds. In other words, I was screwed.

Or so I thought, because something unexpected happened. In fact, calling it unexpected is, with probability awfully close to 1, the biggest understatement I've made in my life. Fire erupted from my outstretched hand in a rush of light and heat. It wasn't a very large amount of energy altogether, no more than a small shape charge, but the creature was standing six inches from my hand. The ball of flame struck it right in its gaping mouth, incinerating the tongue instantly. The creature reeled back, letting out an agonized cry and frantically trying to put out the fire.

I stood frozen in shock, and not one bit of it was because of the ugly black animal set on fire ten feet in front of me. It was time, my brain decided, despite the apparent urgency of the situation, to update on events in the last thirty seconds. Unfortunately, the nature of said events didn't leave me with many options. Hypothesis one – I can throw fireballs. That suffered a huge a huge prior penalty for being ridiculously complex and unsupported by previous evidence. Which left me with hypothesis two – I was going insane. Correction, I was already several miles beyond the proverbial border of sanity. Yes, that possibility seemed to reflect the territory best.

My mind couldn't help but remember a tidbit on evolutionary psychology, though. There wasn't much evolutionary pressure for humans to evolve thinking, "Hmm, my visual cortex just registered a yellow object with feline shape, previously associated with the properties `hungry` and `dangerous`. Although not logically necessary, it may be an empirically good guess that… Aaah!" Crunch. I felt a certain sense of irony sitting there contemplating the universe with an alleged monster several feet away from me, but more than that – how do I act upon the hypothesis that I'm insane? Close my eyes, pretend it didn't happen and call a psychiatrist in the morning? The more base parts of my brain told me that this wasn't a very good survival strategy. So, I thought, screw the most likely event in favor of the one I can best act upon, I'd rather be ashamed for being an idiot, at a later time away from this alley.

In the real world outside, no more than ten seconds had passed during my reflection, but long enough for my shock to subside. I started paying attention to my surroundings again, as I was pulling myself to my feet. The creature stood there to greet me. Its face was completely ruined – dry, cracked and dripping what looked like blood, though I could only see it as black in the darkness.

"Oh, come on," I said. "That's even more improbable."

I should have been shaking with terror instead. Strangely, though, I wasn't even a little afraid. I guess there's only so much emotional shock that a person can handle at one time. I felt somewhat like the stupid Hollywood stereotype of rational – cold and calculating – and I calculated that I should run for my life within the next second.

It turned out that this was an incorrect assessment. Yes, I could've started running in a second. However, it took the creature half that time to snarl in rage and accelerate to the velocity of a speeding car. I threw myself sideways and barely managed to avoid getting trampled. It seemed that I was still screwed.

"Fuego," shouted a male voice from somewhere in the alley and a beam of scarlet struck the creature on the left shoulder, practically searing off the whole arm. It looked nothing so much as superhot and dense plasma, trapped in an almost perfect magnetic field. Judging by the effect on flesh, it probably shared some of the same properties as well. Plasma torches seemed like children's toys in comparison.

I blinked my eyes against the afterglow and saw the creature go after a figure in a black duster, lit by an eerie silver light coming from something on its neck. It was probably the source of the voice and he obviously hadn't expected the creature to charge him immediately, as he was thrown back by a strike from its clawed hand – or rather, the creature struck something in front of the man and he was sent flying, but not by physical contact – absolutely improbable like everything else so far.

Since I was operating under the assumption that I'm not, in fact, insane, I decided that it wouldn't much matter if I made a fool of myself at that point. I pointed my hand in the direction of the creature and shouted:

"Hey, objectively ugly, over here!"

And then, through no conscious decision of mine, a fireball shot out of my hand and struck the creature from behind. It shrieked and turned towards me, but before it could make more than two steps, the man in the duster had already recovered and was pointing something towards it.

"Fuego," he screamed and that plasma thing, even thicker this time, ripped a six inch hole in the creature's chest. I guess it didn't feel obliged to start complying with my concept of sanity all of a sudden, because it didn't die. In fact, it didn't fall, didn't stagger, and didn't even clutch the hole. Instead, it roared in pure, primal rage, which made me shiver even in my numb state and charged me.

"No," I said, my voice breaking. "NO!"

I felt something strange, as if suddenly my strength had been drained all at once. My muscles could no longer support my weight and my eyes refused to remain open. The last thing I remember before I met the ground and fell asleep was that black creature, holding its head with the remaining hand. The expression on its face matched only one thing in my mental database – pain.