You Want Who

A Dresden/Potter Cross-over

You guys know the drill and the standard disclaimer, and if you don't, well all the characters, money and fame belongs to Jim and Jo. I'm just playing with their legos.

Chapter 4

"I get Knocked Down.. But I get Up Again"

My first day with the Wanded Wizards was something else. I spent most of it either in a state of utter shock, desperately trying to, at best, hold my tongue or at least not laugh out loud. That is, when I wasn't tempted to curse the whole stupid lot of them. I'd often thought the magically-inclined lacked logic. Or common sense. After one day with Dumbledore, I had empirical proof.

My escort to the hidden world of wonders was a very old man who dressed like a color-blind Merlin. Disney version. He even had the pointy hat and long wild white hair. The man's beard had to be over a century old! He was tall and thin but spry and incredibly agile for a man of his years. Brilliant blue eyes twinkled at me from a kind, aged face. Even with the grandfatherly smile I knew this man had Power. His handshake confirmed it. His magic buzzed like an electrical current against my skin making my teeth rattle. His bushy white eyebrows shot up as he registered my own power. I very carefully avoided a soul gaze. Lasciel's shadow, which I had taken to calling Lash, had warned me that the Wanded Wizards could be very gifted at the mind arts. Bob agreed, and mentioned Dumbledore by name. I just knew we would be having a long chat about the Seven Laws soon.

I was impressed when the old man sent my luggage and Mister in his carrier, hissing and spitting like a demon, off to Hogwarts with a simple flick of his wand. I might have to learn that trick. I briefly wondered if I could get a wand.

That's when everything went sideways. Literally. And not quite in the usual way. On a personal note, I am going to kill Ebenezer, I am NOT talking to Lash, nor is Bob getting ANY new romances. They all could have warned me. As for the gaudy Gandalf? Well, if his shoes are even more colorful now, it's his own fault.

And for the record I hate Portkeys! I utterly and irrevocably refuse to ever travel that way again. I'll damned well find a Way, hold hands with my godmother and skip along singing next time. I don't care. I'd rather deal with the Never-never and Lea any day of the week. I'd thought the old man a bit senile when he held out the brightly colored sock and told me to get a good grip on it and on Mouse. The sensation of being grabbed by my belly-button and sucked through a thin tube before spinning wildly through thin air was highly unpleasant. Holding onto a freaking out Mouse and not letting go of the sock was difficult. The landing was painful. I sat on my ass on the pavement of a dreary, ill-kept square littered with trash and lined with rundown, grim little houses. Mouse was giving us dirty looks as he shook out his legs and head. Beside me Dumbledore stood looking completely serene. I staggered to my feet then promptly threw up all over his shiny shoes. Served him right. He should have warned me.

"Welcome to Britain, Mr. Dresden." he said, amusement coloring his tone. He flicked his wand and the mess and smell vanished. So not fair. I eyed the sock he still held.

"What the hell was that?!" I asked. He chuckled and tucked the offending item in his pocket.

"International Portkey. I do apologize, Portkeys take some getting used to, especially long distance. It is however quite the quickest way to travel."

I glared at him. "You could have warned me." I growled. The old man gave me a beatific smile.

"Where would the fun be in that?" he chuckled. "Now I need to introduce you to a few people. It seems one of our more brilliant students took it upon herself to research her newest Defense teacher and has managed to thoroughly alarm a great number of my allies." He smiled at me. I sighed. Apparently my reputation has preceded me even here.

"Yeah. Alright."

"Very good. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." I blinked at the old man for a minute then realized another house was literally growing out of the middle of the row of run-down old townhouses. Between Numbers 11 and 13, an even darker and more decrepit old house appeared. Without further ado Dumbledore led me up the steps and into one of the darkest, foulest houses I had ever entered.

The threshold barely registered. This house had never known love. Vicious dark wards battered me as we walked within however. Nasty Stuff. Dark, ugly magic pressed at my skin. Evil had been done here. A lot. What? The? Hell? I thought I was working for the good guys, wasn't I? Because this house was wrong. The very walls were saturated in dark magics and pain. Mouse growled beside me. Dumbledore shot a look back and quickly pressed a finger to his lips. He moved quietly past a floor length drape of moldy fabric. Old gas lamps lit the hallway, not that it improved the decor, which was dull and grimy. The house must have been empty until very recently. It explained the high levels of creepiness. And dust. I stifled a sneeze.

We'd made it only a few steps before the narrow, cluttered hallway and Mouse's bulk came to the inevitable conclusion. Something got knocked over. And the moldy curtains flew open to reveal a moving painting of the maddest, most howling nuts woman I had ever seen. And I've fought Denarians and ghouls. It howled and screeched, eyes rolling wildly as profanity and painted spittle spewed from its mouth.

"Begone, Filth! Scum! Worthless by-products of dirt and vileness, how dare you besmirch the great house of Black with your foul, unworthy blood?! You sully my family home with y-"

Now I've been part of the war against the Red Court for a while now. And several years as the only wizard in the phone book had exposed me to some very nasty things. I am more than a little jumpy, and prone to being trigger-happy. Or, more accurately, fire-happy. So when the painted harpy started shrieking my blasting rod came out and the tip was against the painted surface instantly, glowing brightly with Hellfire.

"Shut. Up.", I snapped and the painting wisely fell silent. If Lash and Bob hadn't briefed me on certain aspects of this world... I don't know how well the Order's secrecy spells would work with a fiery hole being blasted through the row of tenements.

Once the painting nodded I sheathed the Blasting Rod and ambled over to Dumbledore, who was simply staring at me. A too-thin, good-looking man with long black hair and gray eyes, grinned over his shoulder. I stared hard at the man before dismissing his resemblance to a Rath as pure coincidence.

"That was awesome! No one has ever shut my mother up that fast! Do you think you can get her down? Or burn it?" I blinked at the man. He reddened and ducked back through the door he came through. Shrugging I followed Dumbledore through the evil house, down into what was apparently a basement kitchen. And I blindly followed him into my own interrogation.

My Life.

To be fair, the first ten minutes, all polite introductions and being offered tea that grand tradition of the British, weren't bad. I relaxed a little whilst Molly Weasley, a shorter, plumper and red-haired clone of Charity Carpenter, bustled about preparing fresh tea and laying out biscuits and scones on the battered wooden table that dominated most of the large basement kitchen.

Here at least it was fairly clean, if not bright and homely. Good smells wafting from the stove considerably dissipated the room's oppressive atmosphere. I took everything in as I was introduced, mostly by generally known titles or nicknames, to the room at large. No one gave their full names. Apparently they'd done their homework on my kind.

Formerly retired Auror "Call me Mad-Eye" Moody was quite the sight. He looked more like a battered and chipped piece of gnarled old wood than a human and was missing more chunks of him than seemed to be left, including a few fingers, a leg, a large chunk of his nose and one of his eyes. His gray hair was shaved very short and close to his scalp and I noticed he made and poured his own tea. He came off just like an old warrior, one who'd seen it all before, wasn't shocked by any of it, and could see trouble was brewing. He eyed me and Mouse with clear distrust and a touch of trepidation. I pegged him as one who knew of the White Council, the Wardens and what we meant. He seemed content to watch and evaluate for now. Definitely the old beat cop of the group.

Flanking him were his apprentices/subordinates or I'd eat my hat. You know.. if I had one. To his right sat one Kingsley Shacklebolt, a large and powerfully built black man with a smile reminiscent of Sanya. He was following his mentor's lead, taking it all in. On Moody's left sat a slender young woman who introduced herself just as 'Tonks'. I blinked and couldn't help but ask, "Is your first name THAT bad?"

The room exploded into giggles and guffaws as the girl's face flushed bright red. Followed by her hair, which cycled wildly through several shades of red before settling back to the cheery bubblegum pink she'd sported before. I blinked again, shrugged and commented, "My friend's daughter would love to be able to do that."

The attractive Raith wannabe turned out to be a man by the name of Sirius Black, aka Padfoot, aka Snuffles. Don't ask me, I'm the new guy. He'd returned to his place at the table beside a worn, tired looking man he called "Moony". To whom I was later introduced properly as Remus Lupin.

There was a confusing mass of redheads, but I figured out the pecking order fairly quickly. The Weasley matriarch, Molly, seemed to run things, but her soft-spoken husband was clearly in charge. Arthur Weasley had an easy-going, affable personality offset by a burning curiosity about the 'Muggle' world. He reminded me strongly of Michael.

Of their seven children I met their four youngest and liked them. The twins were irrepressible jokers, though their twin-speak quickly gave me a headache. While I knew they were Fred and George, or was it Gred and Forge, I stayed confused. I had no idea who was who and just dubbed them Thing One and Thing Two. This had caused the two dark haired kids in the mix to snigger.

Long and lanky Ron, aka the human garbage disposal, was far more interested in food than meeting a new teacher. Though he did give me a few calculating looks while he munched steadily through more food then I'd ever seen Billy and the Alphas eat after a fight. Their youngest sister, a pretty redhead by the name of Ginny, one of the twins went to give her given name only to find a small hand twisting his ear, just smiled politely at me, apologized for her 'idiot brother' and settled back in her chair with the air of someone who knows if she's small and quiet, she would hear more than if the adults actually noticed her.

Standing by the fireplace was a tall, sallow skinned man with an unfortunate beak of a nose, dark greasy hair and flat black eyes. He wore all black and projected an air of menace. Or he would have if he were holding something other than an annoyed-looking tabby cat carefully in his arms. Dumbledore introduced him as the Potions Master of Hogwarts, Severus Snape.

The cat was apparently Minerva McGonagall, Deputy of Hogwarts, Transfiguration Mistress extraordinaire and Head of Gryffindor House. She was also stuck. As a cat. Again, new guy, don't ask me.

The other young non red-heads were introduced as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

It was Hermione who led the inquisition. Her questions about the council, the stories about me, about the Wardens and about the laws were sharp, intelligent and rapid fire. I had to stop and think for a minute before settling on a blanket response that I hoped would calm a few fears.

"I am a Warden, yes and technically I work for the Council, sometimes. But I'm here as a favor to my mentor, not on orders from the Council. I prefer to keep the Wardens and the Council out of my business when I can help it." I couldn't hide a grimace. "I'm here to teach Defense. If any Dark Wizards show up and cause trouble, I'll put on the cloak and do my duty. Until then, I'm happy to just be the new teacher."

Oddly enough this appeased quite a few people, and I was soon being filled in on Hogwarts, the 'You-Know-Who' situation and the utter incompetence of the current Minister of Magic. I barely restrained my snickers at the idea of a politician named Fudge. Professor Snape and his feline companion left, followed by Moody and his sidekicks. Dumbledore too made his excuses, offering to return for me later when he'd done some urgent paperwork. I was taking Molly's invitation to dinner as an excuse to get to know a few of my future students better. The creepy little gnome thing Sirius referred to as Kreacher before banishing it to its room gave me the willies. He reeked of something foul.

Mrs. Weasley could put a five star chef to shame. Over a delicious dinner, the teens regaled me with tales of their adventures, or rather misadventures, at Hogwarts. The twins were pranksters through and through but conceded that Harry, Hermione and Ron had them beat for finding trouble.

The thrilling tale of the beginning of their friendship, way back in first year was told, starting with a teacher who couldn't act, a rampaging Mountain Troll in a toilet, Harry's wand, troll boogers, Ron actually listening to Hermione and culminating in Hermione fibbing to a teacher. The Twins made Harry's fight against the cursed broomstick quite the thrilling tale. Mrs. Weasley actually got up and hugged Harry. There was a lot of laughter over Hermione setting Snape on fire, she did manage to stop Quirrell after all, however accidentally. They then gave everyone near-strokes with their harrowing journey through basically what amounted to an evil obstacle course in the bid to save the legendary Philosopher's Stone. As they chatted, completely casually, about a giant three-headed dog named Fluffy and a baby dragon named Norbert that their friend Hagrid had tried raising in a wooden hut, I marveled, not for the first time, at the utter arrogance and downright stupidity of Wizards. I suppose when most injuries are so easily fixed with a potion or wave of a wand, consequences don't seem so severe. I felt Lash stir when Harry described the parasitic Quirrelmort but was distracted by the twins, who gaped at Harry for a moment before looking at one another in shock.

"Freddie, didn't we..?"

"I think we did, Georgie..."

"...during the Christmas Holidays..."

"After the snow ball fight..."

"We're so Awesome!"

And the twin red devils began laughing. Harry caught on a second later and cackled. "I forgot about you two charming those snowballs!" Hermione and Ron caught on a second later and joined in the laughter, Hermione explaining to the clueless adults in between giggles that the twins had charmed several snowballs to repeatedly pelt into the back of Quirrell's ridiculous purple turban. They'd been effectively pelting the most evil Dark Lord in recent history in the face with snowballs. Maybe the best part was that they hadn't even realized it. Remus and Sirius, who'd made the serious/Sirius joke five times since I'd met him in response to my four jokes about it, had laughed themselves sick at this. Arthur had just chuckled and Molly moaned, probably envisioning horrible deaths for her sons if Voldemort ever caught up with them. Personally I found it pretty funny, I looked forward to teaching this younger generation. With the right preparation and training these kids would soon put the hurt on Voldie and his followers. If I didn't just go clean his clock first.

As the night wore on though I struggled to control my anger. These idiots had trolls, giant spiders, soul-eaters, and dragonets in a school filled with defenseless children, not to mentioned possessed teachers, rampaging werewolves, death eaters in disguise and a basilisk!

Then there was the underlying message that Harry's home life was not a happy one, the twins mentioned they'd 'stolen' their Dad's flying car to rescue The Boy Who Lived from a locked room with bars on the window. Harry had flushed scarlet as they had gone on in great detail about all the locks on the door to his room, and on the cupboard under the stairs and expressed great indignation at the implications behind a cat flap in his bedroom door and a hand-lettered sign proclaiming Harry's Room taped to the wall of the aforementioned cupboard.

I'd started the night drinking Butterbeer. Fantastic stuff. By the time we got to the 'resurrection' of the Dark Lord though, I needed something stronger. Sirius, unfortunately, had to pass me a steaming shot of Fire Whiskey, which I readily downed after hearing Harry's story. As my throat lit up with liquid fire and smoke poured out my ears I struggled to regain my composure and my breath. My eyes watered. Never again. And why don't these wizards warn people?!

I thought. Hard. Necromancy was dark, dark Magic. Forbidden by the White Council. In my head I suddenly felt Lash's presence, Scorn and anger coloured her presence. For a heartbeat, nothing more, she was once again what she'd been before she'd fallen, and she was angry. I sent her a mental message to calm down and we'd talk as soon as I could get away. She was somewhat mollified but I could all but see her folding her arms and huffing with impatience.

As the tale wound down with Sirius still a wanted man, Harry and Dumbledore copping flak in the newspapers whilst outsmarting the Minister of Magic and his toady in their own farce of a trial, I was rather glad to see the Headmaster pop out of the fireplace. I welcomed the idea of some quiet space to gather my thoughts.

Floo travel with Mouse was marginally better than that damned Portkey. I fell out the other end into the weirdest office I'd ever seen. Magic practically exuded from the dozens of gizmos and gadgets in the room and both Mouse and I suddenly felt very big and clumsy. Dumbledore and I wore matching amused expressions as Mouse and Dumbledore's brightly hued feathered friend took each others measure.

"Fawkes is a Phoenix. Incredible creatures. He seems to like your dog.", Dumbledore murmured. Indeed, Fawkes had fluttered to the floor and was rubbing his beak against Mouse's nuzzle. The big dog in turn had lay down, his head on his paws, a look of relaxed content on his doggy face. I took one of the chairs across from Dumbledore and he ran me, quite quickly, through what he wanted from me as Defense Professor. My yawns cut short our meeting and Dumbledore assured me most of the information I'd need would be in the Defense Professor's office anyway.

I blearily followed him through the strangeness of Hogwarts, too tired to really pay attention to my new digs. I set my password - Blue Beetle - and shuffled my way across to the huge four-poster bed in the adjacent chamber. Mouse flopped down in front of the living room fireplace. Shucking out of my heavy outerwear, I slipped beneath the thick quilts into the surprisingly soft bed.

My head barely hit the pillows and I was asleep.

I was back in that familiar space. Only Lash stood there, arms folded and foot tapping. Her outfit was a severe gray suit and her hair, whilst still blonde, was up in a severe bun. She looked pissed.

"Can we finally talk now?!" she burst out. I just blinked at her. Up until now Lash had been sweet, coaxing, rarely angry. Always oh-so-polite and respectful. However I was not going to show her I was rattled.

"Hey, watch it. We're still in my head." Lash huffed and waved her hands.

"Yes-yes, My Host, but this is too important. You do not know what I know, or how important this is!" I blinked at her. Lash was flat out agitated like I had never seen before.

"Okay, will you explain what has you so upset?" I asked, caution in my voice. Anything that could stir up one of the Fallen this much couldn't be good.

"I know how that... that thing kept his life after attacking the boy as a baby. I know what that diary was! I could sense another, maybe two, in that house! And make no mistake, it is dark magic, some of the darkest there is. Kemmlar himself used it. The Council long ago destroyed all the texts they could find on their creation and forbid even to mention of it, it is so foul. This Voldemort has created horcruxes. Plural. He is not just evil, My Host, he is utterly insane."

I blinked at her, not comprehending. The term and was totally new to me. Which would make sense if this Horcrux thing were so bad the Council destroyed all record of it.

"A Horcrux, Harry, is a container housing a piece of someone's soul. A piece he has torn off himself with a dark ritual act and placed within a prepared vessel. A ritual that demands the violent death of an innocent to perform. With a Horcrux a person can supposedly live forever, and can be returned to life if he is destroyed." Lash grimaced. "It is a way to cheat Death itself but the creation of a Horcrux damages the creator, leaves them less human, less sane and far more cruel. I sensed two fragments in that house, but not where they were. I have never heard of any Wizard creating multiple horcruxes My Host, it is insane! You are dealing with a true monster.".

My sleep was somewhat less restful after that.

The following week

Hogwarts was like nothing else. It was incredible. Beautiful. Set against a backdrop of snowy mountains, surrounded by green hills and a gleaming dark lake, the ancient castle rose majestic and solid against the softening night. Golden lights gleamed from only a handful of the many windows. The students weren't in residence yet so much of the castle was dark. And it was a castle make no mistake, with turrets, battlements, statuary and crenellations everywhere.

My first morning I'd taken Mouse out a side entrance for his morning ablutions and decided to reenter the castle through the front doors, out of curiosity.

Entering through a set of truly impressive doors I had been floored by the stunning entrance. A huge sweeping staircase rose up one level and then exploded into hundreds of other staircase... staircases? Staircasii? ( stupid Latin correspondence course.) all moving and all seeming to go up forever. The stone walls were covered in portraits, paintings and tapestries. And they moved. I watched one, a safari scene playing out with a giraffe and its young, carefree and majestic meandered along munching leaves. A lion lay, just visible, beneath a distant tree. I peeked into of an immense hall, its ceiling a perfect reflection of the still-dark early morning sky outside with hundreds of unlit candles floating beneath it, hovering over four long tables. Continuing on Mouse and I climbed several of the crazy staircases, one of which spun right round whilst we were still on it, and came to a green door. Dumbledore let me in and introduced me, briefly, to his staff.

My first staff meeting was an eye-opening experience. I found I liked most of the other Professors. Flitwick was just awesome. Hagrid was one of the few people I had ever had to look up to but I liked him. So did Mouse. Vector, Babbling, Burbage and her assistant Ms. Milne, seemed prone to rather unladylike tittering among themselves and Professor McGonagal was still stuck as a cat. Madames Sprout and Hooch were good sorts and Poppy Pomfrey was a lovely woman. And of course, Professor Trelawney. On first glance I thought I was looking at a giant grasshopper and the image stuck. Her name may have been Sybil but she was forever Bug Lady in my head. She was also off her rocker.

The two who interested me most were the Headmaster and the Potions Master. Neither chanced meeting my eyes, even for a second and the Potions Master, Snape, seemed to be holding back actual glee. The other teachers later told me he'd been in something called 'the Chamber of Secrets' all summer. After hearing a little about it, I hoped I could get a look too. Giant caverns beneath the school? Very cool. Flitwick, the part goblin Charms master told me there had been a giant basilisk carcass down there, too. Killed by a certain bespectacled teenager in second year no less. Having already heard the story I mentally gave Harry a high five.. followed by a kick in the pants. Apparently the Deputy had insisted the skeleton be removed before I got here. Huh. Guess the whole Sue thing had gotten around. Honestly Wizards gossip almost as much as portraits.

Then there was the library. I found it my second day there, whilst out exploring with Mouse and Bob. Mister was off somewhere, probably trying to woo Professor McGonagal and terrorise Mrs. Norris. Mister seemed to have become enamoured of the Deputy Headmistress. Who was also a cat. Well, not normally, but apparently she had been a cat when she'd gotten a very bad fright and now she was stuck. Mister didn't care. He was in love.

Another Hogwarts resident feline, Mrs. Norris, and her detestable owner Mr. Filch, did not endear these same feelings. Mrs. Norris had tried to lord it over Mister as 'Queen' of the castle, aided and abetted by her minion, Filch. Mister didn't care for this behaviour and had expressed his imperial displeasure. Now Mrs. Norris turned and ran, usually pursued by a beleaguered Filch, whenever she saw Mister and he was free to try to woo his lady love. Who spent a lot of her time beneath the Headmaster's desk, sharpening her claws. I get the feeling he had done something to annoy her.

Anywho... back to the library. We opened the doors and... WOW. Now I'm a pretty cool guy but all those books! All on magic! I heard a definite squee from Bob and knew we'd be here a lot. He might love his bodice-rippers but put books on magic in front of him, and Bob went mega-uber geek. As a spirit of intellect Bob would probably absorb the entirety of the library before the year was over if I let him. And I was tempted to, too. Knowledge is power after all.

I set myself and Bob up at a back corner table and proceeded to the stacks...

The librarian, Madame Pince, was not happy with the large castle of books I built myself. Personally I thought she should be grateful for something to do. She'd looked kind of bored when we first came in. Now she looked annoyed.

Ah well. BOOKS!