Well, this is my last story until August! I'm off to Korea for two weeks and when I return, I am told Internet will be back in my house and consequently, I will be able to begin my next multi-chapter Dresden story.

Despite the crackling fire and the two layers of clothing he was wearing, Harry found Uncle Justin's study to be unusually cold. Standing in front of his seated guardian, the 11 year old nervously fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater, pulling the thick material over one of his chilled hands. If Justin noticed his nephew's discomfort, he didn't acknowledge it. From his place behind the handsomely ornate mahogany desk, the older wizard gave him a benign looking smile.

"I want to make it clear to you Harry that I am not angry with you," he began. While the boy still felt like he was standing in front of a judge awaiting trial, his uncle's words did ease his mind a little. "I only wish to understand why you took the skull."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Justin," Harry blurted out.

"Again, I only want an explanation," Morningway reiterated.

Harry rubbed his upper arm, uselessly trying to dissipate the chill he continued to feel. He kept his gaze on the carving of what looked like a rose etched into the front of his uncle's massive desk. "I…I had a nightmare," he began in a small tone.

Harry left it vague, not wanting to extrapolate on how frightened he'd been by his dream. Upon waking up from his nightmare, the boy had been disoriented and for a horrifying moment, couldn't recognize his still new surroundings. It had been nearly six months since his father's death and the younger Dresden's grief for him had not faded. But waking up, not knowing where he was and realizing his father would not be coming to comfort him had harshly reopened a barely scabbed over wound. He'd wanted or rather needed a soothing presence.

Harry had been grateful when Bob didn't even ask what the nightmare had been about. He'd seen the paleness of the boy's face, the dark fringe of hair still damply stuck to his forehead and had invited Harry to sit and watch in the library as he finished working out a spell for his uncle. The boy had dozed momentarily under the glow of the golden letterings Bob etched into the air. When he'd woken up, it was still nighttime, but Bob had returned to his skull.

While his uncle had made it particularly clear that the skull was only allowed in either the library or his own study, Harry was terrified at the idea of returning to his own sprawling room alone. Logically he knew there was nothing to be afraid of and even if there were, Bob would be ineffectual in protecting him. But just the idea of the spirit being close by calmed Harry's heart and he'd taken the skull upstairs with the intent to bring it back down first thing before his uncle noticed.

Unfortunately, he'd overslept.

"When I woke up, I just wanted someone to talk to."

"And you chose the ghost."

"I didn't want to wake you," Harry said, quickly. Though he never in a million years would have picked his uncle to confide in.

"But why take the skull with you back to your room? You knew it was against the rules of this house."

Harry gave his sleeve and uncomfortable tug. "I…I was just..scared," he said. He felt a flush of embarrassment at this admittance that he had not experienced when telling Bob of his fears. The boy knew that while Uncle Justin never said a harsh word to him, his guardian was not a fan of weakness. And wasn't fear weakness? "I felt a little better knowing he'd be around…" He dared to glance up at his uncle and saw the grimace on his face. "Sorry, Uncle Justin," he repeated, softly.

Justin's expression changed almost immediately to the one he wore earlier in their talk. "Harry, I'm not upset that you were frightened by your dream," he said. "You're still a child and there's still much about our world that you don't know yet. But once you do, that knowledge will assist you in conquering your fears." Harry obediently nodded. "Now, what was this dream about?"

The boy cringed, uncomfortably. "Um…"

"Go on, Harry," Justin encouraged.

When trapped within his own subconscious, the image of the slightly ajar door to an old closet of his and the burning eyes of the creature lurking inside had been terrifying to Harry. In the bright light of day, however, he knew his nightmare would look silly. But when he described the dream to his uncle, the older man only nodded. "You can be sure that this house is very well guarded against any attacks."

"I know monsters aren't real, but they always seem-" The boy stopped himself when he saw the sharp look his uncle was giving him.

"Who told you monsters weren't real?" he demanded. It was the first time there was any anger showing in the green eyes.

Harry fought not to cower underneath the furious look from Uncle Justin. "My dad," he said.

Justin sighed, shaking his head in naked contempt. "Harry, your father was wrong." His tone did not leave any room for discussion on this point. He rose from his seat and walked to where Harry stood, putting a hand on the boy's thin shoulder. Through his layer of cotton and wool, Harry could feel the heat of his uncle's fingers as they clamped onto him. "Listen to me carefully," Justin said. "Demons, monsters, dark and evil creatures, they are all real. You're an intelligent boy and I don't believe in hiding things like this from you. Whatever lies your father told you has only crippled you in defending yourself against these very creatures."

"But-"

"Harry, you can never be frightened as long as you understand your opponent. May it be another person or a monster. Knowledge is power and if properly observed and studied, any terrifying creature can be subdued."

The light of the fire was bouncing off his uncle's glasses, obscuring his eyes from Harry's sight. But the fledgling wizard knew the triumphant, zealous gleam that would be shining in the green orbs. "I…okay," said Harry, not knowing how else to respond. The pressure of his uncle's fingers did not lessen.

"The ghost is a prime example of this lesson I'm teaching you," Justin continued. "In his day, Hrothbert of Bainbridge was one of the most terrifying sorcerers. Everyone in the magical community feared him and I am sure even adults had nightmares about him. But when his crimes became too large to ignore, his betters were able to subdue him."

Harry remained silent. He knew Bob had done something pretty bad to end up where he was, but knowing that hadn't scared him the way everyone else seemed to expect him to be. But maybe that had something to do with the fact that Harry couldn't imagine Bob doing anything so horrible. Yes, the ghost was persistently bad tempered, but Harry had never felt frightened around him.

"You see that while you may look to him as a source of comfort, he belongs to the class of beings that you fear in your dreams," said Justin.

"But Bob's not dangerous now, though," Harry defended, though his own voice sounded weak to him.

Justin smiled. "Yes, which is my point. He was a monster dragged out from the closet and finally conquered." The hard fingers finally eased a little. "As you go through your life, Harry, you must always remember that monsters do not go away because you simply ignore them. You must face them, drag them from the shadows. Only then will you ever be safe. Do you understand?" The fire continued to light up Morningway's glasses as twin ovals, leaving his eyes hidden.

"Yes, Uncle Justin."

"So the next time you have this dream, open the closet door. Pull the creature to light and conquer it."

Harry nodded.

"Bob?"

The ghost abruptly turned from his floating letters toward the boy who lingered by the library door. "Did you have another nightmare, Harry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, just couldn't sleep." He walked over to one of the couches and curled up near the arm rest, the leather crackling softly.

"How did your talk with your uncle go this afternoon?" the ghost inquired. The boy shrugged, noncommittally, studying the golden symbols as if he even understood what spell they were creating. "It would probably be wise if he didn't discover you here," Bob advised.

"He wasn't really mad," said Harry. "But I won't stay too long. I'm not bothering you, am I?"

"Not at all," said Bob. "Though do promise that I won't be finding myself in your room again in the morning."

"Hey, you could have woken me up," Harry protested.

"I attempted to do so," replied the ghost. "It seems it would take a localized bomb to rouse you before noon."

"Whatever."

"Your vocabulary never fails to impress me."

Harry grinned at the familiar sarcasm as the ghost returned to his work. A companionable silence passed as Bob filled the library space with his calculations, stopping periodically to consider what he'd written, erasing a few symbols and replacing them with other runes. It seemed for the moment, he'd forgotten Harry was even there and as it always was, Harry felt like he was watching something very private.

Studying the long fingers scribble the words, Harry wondered if when Bob was alive, he'd allowed anyone to watch him create spells. Could it really be true that every single person had been frightened of him? There had to have been at least one person who looked at the sorcerer working with some amount of love.

The thought came to Harry that he could ask Bob right now what it was that he did to have everyone be so scared of him. And what it was that made him deserving of such a severe punishment. He'd be trying to understand the ghost better, as his uncle instructed he should try and do with anything that scared him. Only Bob didn't scare him. And Harry couldn't envision how he ever could scare him. Even if he did somehow regain his corporeality.

"Bob?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm going to try and get some sleep. Just wanted to say goodnight."

Bob turned to the boy and gave him a nod. "Goodnight, Harry."

While the nightmare Harry described to his uncle never returned, the fledging wizard thought on it from time to time. It still disturbed him when he thought on it too much and during those moments, he'd find some excuse to hang out in the library, near the skull. As time passed, the nightmare faded from Harry's immediate memory, but a ghost of it remained lingering in his sub-consciousness. Especially the detail that had frightened Harry the most the first time he'd dreamed it. And while he'd described to Justin the creature's glowing eyes, he'd omitted the fact that in the dream, the glowing eyes had appeared more as a pair of glasses, illuminated by some unseen fire.

THE END