Chapter 3
It was getting late when I got back to the room. I'd spent all day after my mark; records and stories, instead of the man himself, and it was nearly 8pm. I grabbed a quick walking dinner, fish'n'chips (hell, I'm in London, why don't I?) and headed for my hotel.
The dogs greeted me with effusive joy. I took them out quick, and both did their business briskly (they'd been inside all day, and by the time I got back I was worried about a mess; thankfully, no presents left for me).
I slouched into the kitchen chair with my folded newspaper of fish'n'chips, and did my best to ignore the sad doggy eyes that tried to levitate the food out of my hands. For once I didn't give in, though, and after I was done eating, poured the dogs a bowl of food. They were digging in, when I switched on the light and looked at the newspaper that I'd left face-up on the desk.
There was a mark on it. A circle. Right over the boy with the rat in his pocket.
I took the clue, and looked closer. The kid must have been Ron, the kid Harry was friends with. Freckles, red hair, clothes looking a bit shabby but well-cared for (like they were second-hand, but kept in good shape and repaired).
I saw the rat pop out of the shirt pocket, and saw it, the clue I needed. Of course, it would be that prosaic, wouldn't it?
I turned in my seat, and studied the dogs as they ate. There was no racket reported by the desk denizen (they would have said something), and nothing was torn up or damaged.
Nobody had broken in.
The dogs ignored me at first, but the pressure of my stare caused the stray black dog to look up, and he met my eyes with his clever gray ones...
The next morning found me at Hogwarts yet again; I was on a first name basis with Stan Shunpike now, and he didn't bother with the rigamarole of "with 'ot chocolate, with toofbrush". He just waited for my destination and gave me the price.
I hopped out at the gates, staff and rod on me today. I wasn't sure, but I had the inkling there could be a fight. Depending on his reaction...
I waved to Hagrid as I passed, and he bellowed out a greeting, then went back to wrangling some sort of skeletal winged horse, with a leathery hide. In other circumstances, I would be pretty damn interested in learning about them...and maybe I'd have the chance in the next few days. Right now, I had a Chief Warlock to wrangle.
I found my way up to his office, quicker than before.
Honest to God, Dumbledore looked a little surprised when I popped into his office.
"Ahh. Mr. Dresden. I gather you have information."
"Black didn't get a trial."
He sat silently, studying me. I tried to tone down the power I could feel leaking out of me, but my annoyance and irritation had given me a bit of build-up on the walk up.
"What proof do you have of this?"
I tossed the evidence and Azkaban files that had been on either side of the hole that should have held the trial manuscripts.
He studied the files, and nodded slowly.
"I didn't expect this. Please, sit, Mr. Dresden."
I sat, slowly. I still had one hand on my staff, and I saw his eyes bounce off it warily. I looked over and saw the symbols etched into the staff, glowing red.
"Oops, sorry." I muttered, letting the power go. The sharp scent of brimstone faded.
"It is no problem, Mr. Dresden. I fully understand your anger."
"Explain."
"The times following the fall of Voldemort were hectic. Families were torn asunder; some because most of their line had been murdered at the Dark Lord's command, some because they were on opposite sides of the war. The Bones family, for example, was reduced to two members; Madam Amelia Bones and her niece, Susan. The Black family, on the other hand, appeared to have destroyed itself. Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black had become Voldemort's most trusted lieutenant, Sirius' brother Regulus was killed as a Death Eater...likely on Voldemort's orders, as we honestly do not know his fate even now.
"That is why many ultimately believed that Sirius must have fallen to darkness. The notion that a Black could support Voldemort was readily believable. It seemed that there was no other way that the Potters could have been exposed."
"I understand the suspicion. But...not allowing him a trial?"
"That is where I confess confusion. I had believed there to be a trial; I do not remember it being in the Prophet, but...well, let's just say that I never believed it to be a situation where the laws could have been circumvented.
"In peacetime, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot is indeed the arbiter on trials; however, at the end of the war, the Council of Magical Law was in control of trials. And the head of the Council of Magical Law was..."
"Bartemius Crouch." I said, checking the paperwork.
"Barty Crouch, Sr. He lost his position with the revelation that his own son was a Death Eater, Barty Crouch, Jr. He is now in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."
"What happened to Junior? Azkaban?"
"Yes. He died a year later."
"He was also the head of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, right?"
"Correct."
"Black was an auror. He's still listed as an auror. Active Duty. 12 years of back-pay. His wand wasn't snapped, either."
"Then the conviction papers wouldn't have gone though...because there was no trial. Damn. Barty, what have you done?"
"So you didn't know anything about this?"
"Of course not. If I had..."
"Black is Harry's godfather. It's listed down on the records."
Dumbledore's eyes widened.
"I originally placed Harry with the Dursleys because there wasn't another viable option...Amelia Bones already had her hands full, the Longbottoms were unavailable and were driven to insanity...And I did not trust the Tonks' implicitly, Andromeda was a Black, after all. Perhaps a mistake on my part." he murmured, stroking his beard.
"One hell of a mistake. I know the reality of it; I grew up in foster homes and orphanages since I was 6. Harry...he carries a lot of anger. That was a hell of a transformation on another to pull off at the age of 13, without any focus, and only anger fueling it."
"I had always hoped that Petunia might set aside her old problems with Lily...apparently I've been proven wrong. What other choice do I have now though?"
"We prove whether Black was innocent or not."
He gave me a shrewd look.
"You have a plan."
"Yes. I'll need to ride the Express on the first." I said, slapping down the marked-up Daily Prophet in front of him. His eyes got rather wide.
It was decided (after about a half hour of discussion) that I would stay in London. Dumbledore agreed to pay a nominal fee (less than my usual rate, which would add up over a month) for my services as a "minder". Apparently Harry had asked if I could spend any more time with him, and Dumbledore wanted somebody around to keep an eye on him if necessary.
I agreed only because I wanted to head off problems with Harry. I could sense it in him...that darkness. It didn't frighten me, because I understood it, but it did concern me. Harry was a considerable talent; I would have sponsored him for Council membership if it wasn't for the fact that he was a member of this different wizard society. He had power, in spades. He just didn't know how to control or harness it yet.
And that anger, given time to grow and multiply, could become self-destructive given time. I knew I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I ever had to take the kid's head as a warlock, or heard about him becoming a resident at the Azkaban Bed and Breakfast, so I figured an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
For the first few days, we just talked. We would get coffee, or ice cream, or whatever was interesting. We went to a Chinese place one day for dinner, and I managed to find a Greek diner another. He had very limited exposure to other foods, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to broaden his horizons.
We talked about his power. His anger. His feelings toward family and friends.
I'm not a licensed psychologist by any means, but I'm a damn good listener.
He missed his parents (obviously), and lacked for any sort of positive authority figure in his life. More than that, he lacked for people he trusted. Apart from friends. He didn't have people older than him who took care of him, so he'd learned to take care of himself.
He admired Hagrid, thought him a friend, but not the most trustworthy...he liked the Weasley parents, but felt smothered by the mother and rather ignored in the whole. Besides, when he had been in a bad way earlier in the month...they weren't there.
Dumbledore had been souring in his eyes, after I had told him to carefully examine his history. I felt a bit of guilt from that, but I couldn't fault the kid for his efforts. He'd put together a great deal of information (he showed me everything he'd found), even some first-hand accounts from people in the Alley, like Ollivander the wandmaker and Fortescue the sorbetier. I gathered that he'd gotten both negative and positive impressions from these first-hand sources. All in all, it was healthy.
At one point we got onto his classes for school.
"What classes do you take this year?"
"The usual, Charms, Transfig, Potions, Herbology, and Defense. Well, and History. That plus my electives...Care of Magical Creatures..."
"Useful. Good to know how to handle various critters."
"And Divination."
"Whoa, full-stop. You're going to be learning divination?"
"Well...Ron and I agreed to. That, and it should be easy."
"It's easy to let your friends dictate choices, especially when you want to keep them close to you. But...Divination?" I asked, dismayed.
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's fortune telling. Okay, reality check. I fully admit that oracles and prophets exist. I've been the subject of one before."
"Then...it's useful?" he looked hopeful for a second.
"No."
"Damn."
"In fact, they're less than useful, because the prophecy I was originally told was incomplete...when I got the whole thing from the actual oracle spirit that had made it, it drastically changed the meaning; they're based on interpretation. They're self-fulfilling. The reason for that is...as soon as you allow the prophecy to influence your decisions, you cease to have the free will to change the situation."
He looked up at me hopefully. "You can actually change fate?"
"Every action you take is a method of changing fate. Every decision...that doesn't mean that some decisions aren't more attractive than others, and that doesn't mean that every decision can affect the outcome. But...I've already defied fate at least once." I said, not getting into the meat of the decision.
"Really?"
"Well, I've spit in the eye of death a bunch of times. I was also party to a non-magical making a decision that affected the outcome of an event, in ways that I still don't fully understand."
"Hmm."
"Besides, the other side of that coin is that if you're trying to learn how to divine anything...the class won't help you. You've just as much chance of getting it right as you would flipping a coin. I could probably teach you a few tricks that would work better, otherwise known as the WAG technique; Wild Ass Guess."
"Hmmph." he said, sitting back and thinking.
"What other classes do they have available? And are you able to change them?"
"I should be able to. The classes are Muggle Studies-"
"An utter waste, if the ridiculous way that most of these purebloods speak about "muggles" means anything."
"Agreed. The other two are Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."
"Runes are damn useful. There've been a bunch of times I wished I understood more about different runes and sigils."
"Hard class, though."
"Anything worth doing is."
"Hmmph."
"And if Arithmancy is anything like I'm imagining, I'd say it's likely tied to the power calculations I use on a spell by spell basis. If you can get a clear understanding of your spellcraft by learning how the math works, it's worthwhile. You may not be the best at theory, I totally get that. But you don't improve by doing the bare minimum. You get better by pushing yourself, trying harder, and doing things over...and over...and over. Practice makes perfect, and nobody is ever perfect, nor will they be."
He chuckled, looking wistful.
"Would have been nice to have somebody to put a boot up my arse when I skived off the first two years."
"Boot to Ass is my specialty." I said, smirking.
"So you think I should?"
"Send a letter to your teachers. Find out what they think. Then make the decision on your own. One thing you should consider is...what do you want to do with your life? That'll affect what you should learn early on."
He sat back, and looked down into his lap. "I sometimes think I won't make it to be an adult."
I sighed. I really didn't have the degree to deal with this.
"I nearly didn't. But I'm still here. Every time I go into a nasty case, there are moments I think I'll not make it from one minute to the next. But feeling sorry for myself never got me anywhere."
He looked up, saw the determination in my face.
"You're right. Sorry."
"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one that's harmed by that attitude. And just saying sorry never fixed anything. Make it right."
He nodded, face contemplative.
Later that morning, in response to his letter, Professor McGonagall showed up at the Leaky Cauldron and sat with him. I sat some distance away, sipping a Butterbeer. (I had to admit, the stuff was good.)
After about an hour, the two got up and bellied up to the bar beside me.
"Mr. Dresden?"
"Harry." I said, shaking her hand.
"Thank you for speaking with me. Can we speak privately?"
"Sure."
"Mr. Potter, don't go far."
"I won't, Professor."
We sat down at the table they'd just vacated, and she flicked her wand back and forth; I felt currents of magic building around us, in a sort of auditory wall.
"Thank you for suggesting he contact me."
"He doesn't have any sort of counsel at all. Nobody's ever told him that he needs to do better. At least...not in a way that's useful or that he understood." I said, sighing and taking a swig of butterbeer.
"You're right." she said, slumping back and taking a drink of her own. "I feel responsible in some way."
"Why?"
"I knew both James and Lily. Both were exceptional. Good students, even if James was a bit of a prankster. I suppose I had such high hopes for Harry...when I saw his actual class work, though, I lost hope. It was so...average. His writing, his grasp of theory..."
"What about his practical work?"
"Decent. He does have a knack for practical work. Sometimes, though, the theory is required to advance the practical. And he seems to rather enjoy skiving off with Mr. Weasley or getting himself into some sort of trouble, instead of studying."
"Why didn't anybody ever say anything?"
"Honestly? We didn't want to get involved. Some of us at the school, myself, Filius, even Albus...we remember what exceptional people his parents were. But we also see them buried in him, deep within. And the pain...the loss is just too much to bear some days. We all decided, separately, that we would keep our distance."
"And in doing so, you leave him with nothing in the way of guidance. I know for a fact that fatass uncle of his, or his shrew of an aunt, don't lift a finger to help him. He's told me as much. He feels the loss of parents far more keenly than you."
She looked downcast. "I know."
"Is your pride really more important than his future?" I needled.
She looked up and narrowed her eyes at me. "What interest do you have in his future?"
"Honestly? I see myself. I went through orphanages and foster homes. I lost both parents by the age of six. I made bad decisions, and ended up indebted to creatures and people that you don't want any part of, by the time I was 16. I was put through a murder trial that same year, one that if I had been convicted, I'd get a very short haircut with a very sharp blade. And I don't want to see him fall into the same traps."
She looked horrified. "H-how?"
"I killed my adopted father in a duel. He tried to enthrall me, he did enthrall my adopted sister. Who was also my first lover. Tell me that isn't fucked up."
The stricken look on her face deepened. "Merlin's beard..."
"Now do you see why I'd like him to actually make something of himself? Stay on the right path? Avoid the pitfalls I hit? The darkness he carries...the anger he has in his heart...those sorts of things, anger, hate, fear, can do a number on you over time. They're a beacon to the darker elements of the world, the things that can corrupt you. If you once turn to the Dark Side, forever will it dominate your destiny."
"So you've taken him under your wing?"
"Yep." I said, popping the P. "Seems like no-one else will."
She looked down in shame again.
"So about those classes?"
"He expressed interest in Runes and Arithmancy. To be frank, the reason I didn't suggest them at the end of last year is...well, his scores in other classes aren't impressive. Both fields are...demanding."
"Did you try giving him a boot in the ass? Try pushing him?"
"Sadly, no." she said, a grimace on her face.
"Do it. You won't have to bully him to get him really ahead of things. He's a smart kid. I'm actually planning on working on some of my spellwork with him. See what he's good at. Hell, if he does good enough, I'll invite him to come to the States when he graduates to apprentice."
A grim little smile showed up on her face.
"Apprentice?"
"Private Investigator. It's a good field. Not the most lucrative...but it beats sitting back and letting shit happen to people."
"I'd admonish you for your language, but I get the feeling taking you over my knee won't help much."
"You're welcome to try." I said, smirking.
She dropped the security spells and waved Harry over, and we sat down to lunch.
"Alright. Slowly draw the circle around you, and as you're drawing, imagine the chalk line projecting a wall upwards. As far as you can see. As you close the circle, imagine the walls closing up around you; you'll feel the magic pressing in on you a bit, like a high-tension wire."
I watched curiously as he carefully drew a circle around himself, his tongue partway out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. With a sparkle, I saw the circle close, and could feel its shape.
"Nice. It's closed. You can feel the magic, right?"
"More this time, yeah. It's like...the air is thicker. Like being underwater."
"Okay. Take the little amulet I gave you, and hold it in your right hand; power always projects from the right and comes in the left. Focus. Focus on the shape and feel and sensation of the amulet, focus on its twin. Draw the connection between the two. Feel your magic, feel it condense and swell up around you. Draw the magic into your left side, then push it out into your right hand and into the amulet. Not too much; we're finding the twin amulet, not blowing it up." I'd bought a pair of matching amulets for this test; no sense in trying with a hair, and possibly setting the target on fire.
I saw the beads of sweat on his forehead, knew he was trying as hard as he could. This was the third attempt at a tracking spell, and he'd started getting frustrated, not a good state of mind for casting spells.
"Got the image in your head? Drawn the connection?"
"Yeah." he said, his voice a thousand miles away.
"Form the words I told you. Imbue them with the magic."
"Reperio, Reperius, Reperiamus."
"Then break the chalk line, focus on your will breaking the circle. You'll feel the power rush out around you. And if this worked, you'll see the amulet pendulum towards the twin."
He reached out and deliberately scuffed the line, wiping it out; I felt the power rush out, and it wasn't an inconsiderable amount. He opened his eyes and saw the pendant in his fist pendulum towards me, where I had the matching pendulum in my pocket.
"Hey, it worked!" he exclaimed.
"Damn right it did. Nice spellcraft, too. Nice and stable. You'll get used to forming the energy once you've practiced a few million times. You'll learn how much power finds a target, and how much blows it up."
"This is brilliant." he whispered, studying the way the amulet dangled. "Magic without a wand." he muttered.
"Think about it a bit. When you were younger, you did magic, didn't you? Accidentally."
"Er...yeah. I did."
"That accidental magic wasn't formed and shaped like your actual spells, but it did respond to your commands, right? It did what you wanted to do, even if it wasn't being consciously cast."
"I suppose."
"That means that the focus isn't exactly required, doesn't it? That it's just a focus, a way to channel power easier. I have an experiment for you. This is just a bike lock. You could open this easily with a spell, if I'm not mistaken."
"Sure."
"Try it. Without a wand."
"Er...how?"
"I don't know, how does it happen with the wand?"
"Er...well, I have to push the energy into my wand, then focus on the lock, imagine the mechanism, and see it opening, then speak the incantation."
The lock popped open in his hands.
He looked down, then realized what had happened. "Did I just..."
"Wasn't anything I did." I said, grinning. "It probably took more energy to do though, didn't it?"
"A bit, yeah. It didn't happen as easily, either."
"Which tells us...what?"
He thought for a while, concentrating on the lock again. He closed it, and focused, and it popped open.
"That the words and the wand are...channels? That what really matters with spell-casting is my intent? My will to open the lock or find the object?"
"Yep. You've probably got a bit of a headache, don't you?"
"A bit. Like a migraine." he said, holding one hand to his forehead.
"That happens partially because you're learning a new way to cast, using thaumaturgy; the power channels in a different way. It's also probably happening because you aren't insulating the spell. The energy is going directly from your brain, to your hand, and into the target."
"So the words don't just channel the power...they focus it, and in the end, insulate us from the backlash? Even when we don't speak the words, they're still doing that job?"
"Bingo."
"Let's try something else."
He had a fair degree of skill at thaumaturgy, but he showed a surprising degree of skill at wind evocation. He had a connection to the air element, it seemed, like my connection to fire. He explained that he was a pretty skilled flyer, and I agreed that it was probably connected.
He soon figured out the limits of wandless magic vs. wanded; it was slower, and took more out of him. He could cast pretty much every spell he knew wandless, but some were more successful than others; long-term changes, like some transfigurations, didn't last long. Others, like the light charm, where it was a continuous power drain, worked exceedingly well.
It wasn't all training and studying, even though I encouraged him to read ahead in all his books, to have them read through before the year began.
About 3 days a week, we would hire a large cab, pick up both dogs at my motel, and take them for exercise and fun at a dog-friendly park outside London. Padfoot, as we called the big black dog (Harry had that name in his memory from somewhere, but he couldn't pin down where) was especially fond of Harry, playing cheerfully with the kid. When both got tired from running around, chasing frisbees and generally playing, they'd sleep all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron in the seat of the cab, Padfoot with his head laying on Harry's lap.
I forgot most of the time that I was actually on the job. He really was a nice kid, and just needed somebody to look up to. Somebody he trusted. It was a hell of a shocker that nobody had stepped up to be that person yet, but since he needed a mentor, I was willing to be that person.
~Some things did come up in Chicago, though...
"No, Murphy, I'm not laughing at you. It's just ironic, that I found a large black mutt here that I've been taking care of."
"This damn Black Dog is terrorizing Dekalb. Now how the hell am I supposed to get rid of it?"
I thought for a bit. "Try calling Richard Mountebank, he's a low level practitioner in Evanston. He's one of the Paranet people I trained to deal with a Black Dog a while ago. His number should be at my place."
"Fine. I'll do that. Now..."
~It seemed that I was missing out on some interesting cases though...
"What do you mean, flaming chickens?"
"Some idiot practitioner decided to call up some creatures out of the NeverNever, apparently, and because he's such a fucking moron, they took shape as flaming chickens. Now how do you deal with that?"
"Just call in the Colonel."
I could hear her grinding her teeth over the phone. "Dresden..."
"Same way you deal with all summoners, Murph. Circle trap."
"I don't have a convenient wizard around to draw the circle, Dresden."
"Ask Butters. He's pretty good at doing circles with blood. He did so during that whole debacle during last Halloween."
"The one where you turned a 65 million year old skeleton into a zombie and rode it to Evanston?"
"I told you I was going to put Sue back."
~Along with the ones where I definitely wanted to be there to see it.
"Now how am I supposed to deal with this brothel?"
"Bob told you they're called Houris?" I said, trying not to snort.
"After checking me out and making crude sexual comments, yes, Dresden. Your skull is a pervert."
"Bob does as Bob is."
"What should I do to prevent my guys getting suckered into going into the place? The commissioners aren't very happy that 3, no, now 4 of my guys have gone into the place to make arrests and ended up getting a good time. A few wives and girlfriends are pissed off too."
"There's a jar of ointment on my second shelf, it's a small glass jar..."
"They don't need ointment, thankfully. Apparently these creatures are clean."
I snorted. "That's not what I meant. The ointment is for under their eyes. It'll cut through the glamours."
I could practically hear her blush over the phone. "Ah. Right. I'll do that."
"Ask Bob if you have any questions."
"And acknowledge the little prick?"
~And the really unusual.
"The owners of Shoegasm are getting very angry, Harry. They've left you three messages now."
"Call them back for me, if you would. Tell them I think I have a handle on their problem, and that I'll be in Chicago the week after September first to deal with it."
"So they're just supposed to deal with the inventory shrinkage until then?"
"Tell them to leave out a pizza in the back room each night. That should keep the little buggers busy."
"What?"
"Never mind why. Just tell them that."
The month went quickly, and three days before the First of September, a gaggle of redheads descended on the Leaky Cauldron. That same day, I was present when a bushy-haired brunette squeezed Harry within an inch of his life.
"Oh, Harry! I'm so glad to see you. I've been so worried about you after hearing about your relatives! You haven't been here all alone, have you?"
"No, Harry over there has been keeping me company." Harry said, giving me a malicious grin. "He's a wizard, too. He's from Chicago. You should see some of the stuff he's teaching me, Hermione." Thanks, Harry, for throwing me under the bus. He'd told me enough of how Hermione was like to know she'd go all Spanish Inquisition on me.
"Hi...er, Harry?" she said, uncertainty boiling out of her.
"Harry Dresden." I said, shaking her hand. "I'm in town on some related business, and Professor Dumbledore asked me to keep Harry company while I'm here, until he heads off to school."
"Oh! That's very nice of you, I was worried about Harry. Here, meet my parents. Dan and Emma Granger."
"Sir, Ma'am."
"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Dresden. You're a wizard too, then?" asked Dan, giving me a once-over. I could practically see the middle-class dentist's thought processes; black leather duster, single leather glove, black western shirt, scuffed jeans, cowboy boots...Who is this guy, a cattle rustler?
"Yeah. I'm actually a private investigator in Chicago."
"Ahh, businessman, huh? Keeping busy, are we?" he said, acting like he was fawning over me. He winked at me from the side opposite his daughter, though, and I knew he was yanking her chain.
"Daddy! Be nice. I'm sorry, Mr. Dresden. My daddy was born with a deplorable lack of tact."
I snorted, and I heard Harry covering his mouth to prevent a laugh. I also saw Emma, Hermione's mother, smirk in amusement, while Dan put on a mock-offended expression.
"Kitten, why would you say that about me?"
"Because it's true, honey." Emma said, stepping forward. "Lovely to meet you, Mr. Dresden."
"Mrs. Granger."
"Emma.""Harry."
"So what sort of work do you do, Harry? I understand you're a PI, but..."
"It runs the gamut. I do a lot of work finding lost items. Occasionally lost people. Sometimes creatures are running amok, and I have to run them down. Infestations of Faeries to clear out, warlocks summoning demons I have to stamp down, et cetera." I said, playing off the latter lightly.
"Yeah, he hasn't shown me to summon a demon at all." Harry said, pouting facetiously.
"You can do that?" Dan asked, frowning as he put one hand on his daughter's shoulder.
"Harry's giving us guff. While I technically can summon creatures out of the spirit world, for the most part I don't need to. Any information or help they can give is far more readily available from the mortal world, or other sources."
"What did he mean by demon, though?"
"I expect you're imagining the Devil from Legend, right? That's not the sort of creature we're talking about. When I refer to a demon, it's usually no more and no less than a creature of spirit from the NeverNever, which is a spirit realm that lies adjacent to ours. Pretty much everything you've ever heard of, ghosts, goblins, faeries, vampires...they all come, in one way or another, from the NeverNever. So-called Demons are just creatures from that realm. Some are malevolent, some even benevolent, and all are dangerous to work with. It's just as much that I'd rather work with creatures right here in the world, or take care of things using my own talents and sources."
"Ahh." Dan said, relaxing with a smile.
Harry smirked at me, and I mock-glared; all the same, I was glad to see him more willing to tease me; I got the impression he didn't do this even with his own friends.
I slipped out to let the friends reunite. I'd see them all, of course, on September first when I rode the train.