Harry Dresden blinked as the door before him was abruptly opened partially, hand frozen in place where it had been about to knock. Through the gap between door and frame, Dresden could see the unimpressed face of his troublesome new acquaintance, Harry Potter.
"Yes?" Potter asked shortly, clad in his usual jeans, sans the shirt that morning.
"I was in the area and thought I'd drop by," Dresden shrugged, his usual good natured air lacking and a heavy layer of stubble on his face. "See how—hell's bells, is your arm missing?"
There was a long pause as Potter very deliberately looked from the stump just above where his elbow should have been, then back to Dresden, before answering with a dry, "no. I know exactly where it is."
Dresden raised an eyebrow at the injury, and Potter's lack of concern over it. "Hmmm. If I were your enemy, I think I'd still keep my guard up around you," he stated seriously.
"That so," Potter replied, deadpan.
"Yeah. After all, you're not completely 'armless yet," Dresden snorted, fighting back a snicker at his own joke.
Potter closed his eyes, letting out a despairing sigh. "Your sympathy is overwhelming. And here I was thinking you would be concerned over my missing limb."
"Why? After all, it's just a flesh wound," Dresden managed, before giving in to chuckles.
"For Circe's sake," Potter muttered. "Is there a reason you were in the area?"
Dresden's previous sober attitude returned, albeit slightly buoyed after their banter. "I wanted to find out how things went on your little excursion to the Nevernever, and I also need to fill you in on a few things that happened while you were gone."
"The bitch who knew my Name was murdered most satisfactorily," Potter revealed with a predatory grin. "While I was gone?" he continued, still half hidden behind the door.
"Good to hear. But you were gone for a few days, Potter," Dresden informed him. "Time flows differently in the Nevernever."
"That would explain a bit," Potter looked critically at his shortened limb.
"Do yourself a favour and find out some more about the Fae," Dresden advised, shuffling his feet on the porch. "It seems like you've caught their attention."
Potter nodded, leaning into the door frame. "So what, there a book on the Fae I can check out from the library?"
Dresden snorted. "Yeah, cause the Fae are just gonna let accurate information about them just float about the mortal world."
"So what would you suggest?" Potter asked, working at a tooth with his tongue.
"Look into the old legends, the folk tales. Most of them have more than a few grains of truth to them. If you need something specific, give me a call and we can work out a deal," Dresden suggested.
"I'll keep it in mind," Potter nodded again, before pausing. "Did you want to come in?"
"Yeah. There are a few other things you need to know."
Potter stepped away from the door, leaving Dresden to let himself in. The wizard nudged the door open with his staff before entering the well-appointed and spacious house.
"Harry," Dresden began calmly, getting a full view of Potter for the first time that morning. "Why are you carrying your severed arm around?"
"I was about to reattach it, before you arrived," Potter returned just as calmly.
"Huh," Dresden accepted, stroking his chin. "Carry on then."
Potter gave a gracious bow, making a mocking twirl with his severed arm as he did so. The magician settled himself on a deep red couch and placed his arm between his legs, wand held in the working hand. As he began to mutter to himself and draw strange wisps of light from the limb, Dresden leaned on his staff as he observed the house—specifically, the parts that couldn't be seen. The threshold was non-existent, although that was only to be expected. What was not expected, was that he could feel no trace of any traditional wards, although there was something, humming gently in the background. Dresden would warrant that whatever protections Potter had established, they were created through his own particular brand of magic and not something that he cared to test.
The wizard's attention was drawn to a bowl full of multicoloured rocks that sat on the coffee table Potter worked at. There was an unfocused buzz of magic about them, and closer inspection revealed them all to be semi-precious stones. Dresden's attention was drawn back to Potter as he gave a sulphurous curse, and he took in the blood spilling from both the stump and severed limb.
"Just removed the stasis," Potter explained with a grunt as he pressed the stump of his arm to the limb. He traced the tip of his wand along the cut line, repeating a litany over and over. "I'm no healer, but if I'm still conscious I can heal most injuries to myself relatively simply, if not easily."
"How long did you leave it unattached for?" Dresden asked curiously, having noticed a half eaten piece of toast sitting on a plate next to the couch.
"Sixteen hours, maybe?" Potter guessed as he flicked his wand at the bloodstains on the couch and on his jeans. "This isn't the sort of work you want to do in the middle of a duel or running on an empty tank."
"Useful skill," Dresden admitted as Potter flexed his healed arm, checking his dexterity by flipping a suddenly conjured coin between his fingers.
"It can be," Potter agreed as the coin in his hand vanished. He snapped his wand in several directions, summoning a shirt and jacket and directing the remains of his breakfast to the upper loft. Dresden thought he caught a glimpse of a silver arm floating into another room on the ground floor, but brushed it off as unimportant. "So, what did you need to talk about?"
"The White Council is at war with the Red Court," Dresden announced without preamble.
"Ok then," Potter blinked. "How did that happen?"
"I killed one of their nobles along with all of her servants and burned down her manor," Dresden admitted candidly.
"Huh," Potter scratched his jaw. "Well, I'm sure you had a good reason."
It was Dresden's turn to blink. "Well, thanks. You're one of the first people not to blame the whole thing on me."
"I can't blame them if you told them the same way you told me," Potter shook his head wryly, before shrugging. "Why tell me though?"
"Because you're a wizard, Harry, or you appear enough like one that the Red Court won't care, even if you aren't a part of the White Council," Dresden told him. "I can't see you drawing any serious attention though, one random practitioner wouldn't be worth the effort in their eyes."
"Yeah, about that," Potter grinned sheepishly, "I might have burned down one of their brothels and killed a few of their freaky hooker monsters a little while back."
A grin tugged at the corner of Dresden's mouth. "Well, I'm sure you had a good reason."
"I felt I did," Potter agreed as he shrugged on his leather jacket over a white shirt, before rising to his feet and leading Dresden away from the living area.
"No way they could trace it back to you?" Dresden questioned as he followed the other man out onto the verandah, taking in the view of the lake and enjoying the mid morning breeze.
"Highly unlikely," Potter replied, resting against the railing, likewise enjoying the view. "I covered my tracks rather well."
A loud crack shattered the morning calm, sending numerous flocks of birds into startled flight from the lakes edge. Potter and Dresden were alert instantly, wand and blasting rod in hand as their gazes quested for the source of the noise.
"Snipers," Potter explained shortly, gesturing at a point some feet away. Looking closer, Dresden could see a pair of large bullets suspended in mid air. They were pointed right at himself and Potter.
Another loud crack shattered the cries of the birds, this time the sound of two rifle reports distinguishable from each other as another pair of bullets joined the originals. Another more literal shattering sound followed. The four large calibre bullets fell to the deck and Potter cursed.
"Wards are down," Potter announced, ducking out of sight behind the wooden railing.
"Shooters are down in that clump of trees, near the boat house," Dresden replied, having seen the muzzle flash as he joined him.
"Let's go and introduce ourselves then," Potter replied with a smirk that bared all his teeth. "Hold onto your breakfast," he warned, grasping Dresden by the arm.
Dresden stared blankly, before remembering what happened the last time Potter grabbed a hold of him like that, during their fight with MacFinn the loup-garou. "Oh, fu-
A hard snap cut off the remainder of whatever Dresden had intended to say as they were sucked through a meat grinder, squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste and dumped into a copse of trees, behind two figures seated at a picnic table, each with a rather large rifle packed into their shoulders.
Dresden barked off a quick 'Forzare!' while Potter twined a ribbon of of fire around the neck of the figure that hadn't just been crushed into the concrete beneath the picnic bench and beheaded it. While the headless figure remained on the ground, the shooter that Dresden had crushed got to its feet and scuttled out of sight, moving inhumanely fast.
"Ghouls," Dresden cursed.
"Supernatural hitters, yeah?" Potter questioned. At a side long look from Dresden, he shrugged defensively. "I did brush up on a few things."
"They're used as hitters," Dresden agreed as he swept his gaze swept their surroundings. "But which one of us was the target?"
"Could have been both of us," Potter suggested, the tip of his wand twirling in a circle as it pointed at the ground, a number of leaves floating upwards in a spiral, as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. "Would explain why there's two shooters."
"They'd have more backup if they were gunning for us both," Dresden disagreed. "Not to be too arrogant, or anything."
A blur of movement rushed them from the side, only to impact heavily on a translucent shield summoned forth by Dresden. The leaves that Potter had been levitating were now sharp metal discs, and he sent them spinning around the side of Dresden's shield and towards the once more fleeing form of the ghoul. The majority of them missed, although several sunk into their foe's side and one tore clean through its leg.
"Target of opportunity then," Potter continued, "bumped into each other, saw us together, and couldn't resist the chance."
"Sounds about right," Dresden grunted as the ghoul made another pass, only to trip and stumble with unnatural clumsiness long enough for him to clip it in the side with a gout of flame.
"Do we want to interrogate it?" Potter questioned, wand at the ready.
"It won't have been told anything beyond who we are," Dresden shook his head. "Finish this before anyone else gets drawn into it."
"Right," Potter nodded. "Get your shield up."
Dresden did so without question, ready for whatever play Potter had. Despite his preparation, he certainly hadn't expected the ghoul to come tumbling through the air uncontrollably and impact on his shield with a dull splat. The wizard let his shield drop and sent another, heavier blast of force at the creature, while Potter made a similar action. The result was a rather messy red smear and a number of bone fragments spread all about the small copse of trees.
The magician and the wizard surveyed their would be assassin's remains in the silence after the skirmish. Dresden bounced on his toes slightly, on the verge of whistling. That had been remarkably easy, especially compared to his previous ghoul experiences and stories he had heard. He hardly even felt the drain of the magic he had used.
"Guess you didn't hide your tracks well enough," Dresden stated casually as they began to walk away from the site of the confrontation.
"Guess not," Potter frowned. "I'll have to replace a few of my wards, too," his frown deepened, before it was replaced by a smile. "Well, at least I know they work now."
Dresden turned to stare at Potter as they stepped onto a jogging path, ignoring the strange looks they garnered from passer by. "I don't think I have a response to that," he admitted. Potter just chuckled.
The pair walked in silence along the winding path for several more minutes before the roof of Potter's house came into view.
"I won't even guess what the Red Court will try next, but if you keep your head down they might leave you alone," Dresden picked up again.
"You think so?" Potter asked wryly.
"No," Dresden shook his head, "you can always hope though. You should know though, the longer you keep away from the White Council's attention, the easier your life will be. They can be a real pain in the ass at times, and this war is only going to make them and their attack dogs worse."
"I'll keep that in mind. Shouldn't be too hard though," Potter nodded, accepting the advice. "I mean, it's not like they've heard about me."
Dresden nodded in silent agreement as they rounded a final bend and came into view of Potter's house, his Blue Beetle parked out the front, before stopping dead in his tracks. Potter stepped around the wizard to get a look at what had drawn him up short, and was greeted by the sight of a stocky old man in worn jeans and a flannelette shirt leaning against his porch.
"Hoss!" the old man barked a greeting, apparently at Dresden, as he strode towards them. "Was beginning to think you'd heard me coming and skipped off on me. Why don't you introduce me to your new friend there?"
Dresden regained his composure quickly. "Uh, yes Sir. This is Potter. Harry, that is."
The old man raised an eyebrow but said nothing as the two Harrys came to a stop before him.
"Is there a reason you're in town, Sir?" Dresden fidgeted. "The Council here already?"
"No, lad," the old man shook his head, the hint of an amused smirk on his face. "You don't have to worry about that bunch of politicking old fossils just yet. I'm here on another task, as a favour to a friend," he explained, his gaze drifting over to Potter.
Potter grinned brightly, bouncing on his heels. "Well, I'd hate to keep you from your work. I'll leave you two to catch up then," he offered, already taking the steps up his porch.
"Don't play coy with me boy," the old man's voice brooked no argument. "Your little dust up on the sports field with that Fae last night was observed."
Potter turned back to face the old man who suddenly seemed much more focused than the grumpy figure he had been seconds previous. "It was self defence officer, honest," Potter assured him innocently, while Dresden winced slightly out the corner of his eye.
"I'm not here to play games," the old man scowled. "Introduce us properly, Hoss," he directed to Dresden.
"Right," Dresden started, grimacing slightly. "Sir, this is Harry Potter, a practitioner who arrived in Chicago about a year ago. Potter, this is my mentor, Ebenezer McCoy."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Potter stated with a pretentious, overly polite tilt of his head.
Ebenezer scowled again. "I'm here on Council business, but I've a question of my own first. What reasons do you have to associate with my apprentice?"
"Interrogated by the parents already?" Potter fanned himself dramatically. "And it's not even the third date!"
Dresden threw Potter a withering look and visibly forced himself to hold back a snarky comment while Ebenezer's face tightened.
"I was perfectly happy minding my own business on my farm before I was asked to come over to Chicago and see to you, boy," Ebenezer informed the overly flippant wizard with a glare. "Do yourself a favour and don't irritate me further."
Potter's mocking demeanour slid away at the possible threat. "And how do you plan on 'seeing' to me?" he asked in a casual tone, absently twirling his wand between his fingers—a wand that had been concealed in his pockets not a second earlier.
Dresden, watching the satisfied gleam in his mentor's eyes, wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Potter's misfortune or bemoan the White Council's own, regardless of the concern he knew he ought to be feeling. He knew exactly what Ebenezer was here to do.
"Wizard Potter," Ebenezer began sternly, "in light of the power and skills demonstrated in your confrontation with a Summer Fae, it is my duty to induct you into the White Council. Congratulations," the old man finished dryly, dropping his official tone.
Dresden snickered, unable to control himself, and received a glare from Potter in return.
"Thanks," the newest member of the White Council stated sarcastically, "but no thanks."
"I'm sorry, lad," Ebenezer smiled thinly. "Did you think it was an offer?"
A chill overtook Potter's casual air. "There was another group of self assured old men who thought they could dictate my actions to me, once upon a time," he answered, now sickly green eyes focused unblinkingly on the older man's own.
"Why don't we sit down," Ebenezer offered, a shadow lurking behind his own impassive gaze to match Potter's own, "and I'll tell you exactly why you want to join the White Council."
X
"So," Potter began, pouring himself a generous two fingers of Glenfiddich, "what were all those compelling reasons you had prepared to persuade me to join your knitting circle?"
The three men stood on the second floor loft of Potter's house, standing around a kitchen bench. Dresden leaned against a wall to the side, his back to a solid wall and not the windows that ran along the east side of the house, while Ebenezer stood directly across from Potter himself.
"Safety in numbers," Ebenezer began with a grunt. "You're out in the cold by yourself, and the Red Court won't hesitate to take advantage of that. Already have, unless I miss my mark."
"Joining your club would just make me a larger target," Potter countered. "It's more likely that the attempt this morning was aimed at Dresden."
"You showed particular aptitude for mind magics in your fight with the Fae," Ebenezer continued, unmindful of Potter's arguments. "Aptitude that isn't picked up easily, nor is it a talent weaned on beings like the Fae. Try what you did as a novice and it likely would have been you screaming on the ground picking at your brain through your eyeballs."
Dresden shuffled uncomfortably while Potter took a sip of his Scotch.
"Point?" the magician asked coolly.
Ebenezer smiled grimly. "Such a skill is most likely learned delving into the minds of humans."
"And I'm sure you would forget all about that if I did as you want," Potter responded sourly.
"The White Council would never forgive a warlock," Ebenezer answered in a hard tone, before shrugging. "Although, I do suppose it is possible you gained your proficiency in some other manner. I have very little input into such investigations outside of my responsibility, however."
Potter snorted in response, but didn't appear to be swayed. "Anything else?" he asked, almost indifferently.
"One last thing," Ebenezer replied, staring at Potter intently. "The one who asked me to see to you also asked me to pass on a message. Said it would mean something to you."
"Oh?" Potter asked, narrowing his eyes. "What was the message?"
Ebenezer pursed his lips in a brief grimace. "'The Gatekeeper asks if the Sandman is enjoying his new home,'" he relayed, watching intently for Potter's reaction. Every muscle in the younger man's body tensed, the muscles and veins on his neck standing out in sharp contrast for the briefest of moments.
"The Gatekeeper, who is he?" Potter gripped the kitchen bench with white knuckles, his words spilling over themselves in his haste as he leaned forward with a desperate sort of focus. No one alive knew that name. No one. He had killed them. All of them.
The older wizard smiled, pleased. "The Gatekeeper is a member of the Senior Council of wizards. If you were to accept my offer, your chances of meeting him would improve."
Potter's jaw tightened. "Was that all?"
"No," Ebenezer shook his head slowly, his face clear of any emotion. "He also wanted to know if you'd had any luck in locating the missing piece of your soul."
X x X
Severus Snape sneered at the boring rows of identical houses as he approached the door of Number Four Privet Drive, wand in hand. The door sprang open before him as he swept across the threshold, robes billowing in his wake.
A shaken Petunia Dursley was waiting for him in the hall, wringing her hands. "You need to do something! The boy and his freaki-"
"Be silent, you wretched woman!" Severus snapped, ignoring the sudden recognition in the woman's eyes. "Where is he?"
"Forget the boy!" Petunia answered shrilly, as she hurriedly guided Severus to the dining room. "You need to do something about this!" she demanded, gesturing wildly.
Snape observed the ruined room. The dining table was overturned, food and shards of ceramic plates littered the room, while the window looking out into the backyard had been blown out completely. Pictures hung crookedly on the walls, while a myriad of cracks ran throughout the white plaster ceiling. What drew the Potion Master's attention, however, was the portly woman stuck to the wall, mumbling deliriously.
"Well? Fix it!" Petunia shrieked.
Snape looked down on Lily's sister with a supremely disdainful gaze. "I do not care to waste my time tending to injuries that are more than likely well deserved," he replied coldly. "Where is Mr Potter?"
"The boy is gone—not that he will be staying here after using his freakishness to do this!" the horse-like woman spluttered. "He even blew Vernon out the window! What are you going to do about that?"
"Mrs Dursley," Snape began quietly, a certain menace lurking behind his eyes. "You behave like you have some degree of choice in the matter. The Headmaster has placed the boy here, and here he will stay for as long as is necessary. Is that perfectly clear?"
Petunia faltered beneath the gaze of the robed man, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. A groan sounded through the broken window, followed by the sound of someone shuffling to their feet. The woman rushed outside, and Snape forcibly calmed himself before he lost what remained of his patience and simply summoned the woman back to him.
Petunia re-entered the house several moments later, somehow supporting an overweight man several times her size. She manoeuvred him to the one dining chair that was somehow still standing and helped him sink onto it.
"Mr Potter, Petunia," Snape pressed once more, "where did he go?"
"Potter," the obese man focused on the name. "Where is the little runt? He's going to get a bloody tanning for this!" His eyes focused on Snape, clearly a wizard. "You! Are you here to lock the little freak up, now that he's broken the law again? And what are you going to do about all this mess, eh?"
Rather than allow the fat man to continue his diatribe, Snape gestured once around the room with his wand, summoning the numerous shards of glass from their resting places. The woman stuck to the wall collapsed to the floor when the pieces pinning her clothes were removed. The Muggles jumped at the noise, but made no move to help her, their attention focused on the hundreds of sharp pieces of glass that were revolving around the room. They watched as the glass floated dangerously close to them, hardly daring to move, before Severus twisted his wand once more and the glass flew back to the shattered window, restoring it perfectly.
"Now, Mrs Dursley," Snape's gaze flicked to the woman once more, twirling his wand between his fingers. "Where is Mr Potter?"
Wordlessly, Petunia pointed towards the front door, out into the night. Snape gave the Muggles a scathing sneer as he swept out of the house, already bemoaning the loss of what could have been a night of potion experimentation, now lost to tracking down Potter. Small mercy that he had the forethought to place his brews in stasis before leaving the castle.
As he stepped across the lawn, the Professor prepared himself to cast what tracking spells he could on short notice—only to stop when he noticed the heavy drag marks tracked across an otherwise pristine lawn. The trail continued over the bitumen road, leaving mud and grass picked up from the lawn in its wake.
A trunk, Snape deduced. Potter had retained the presence of mind to gather his belongings before fleeing the detestable Muggles. Unusual, after being pushed emotionally to the point of accidental magic...but not unexpected of Potter, he supposed. The trail continued over the road, and through a tangle of bushes on the other side.
Making his way across the road and opening a path through the bushes with a gesture, Snape emerged into a small park to a curious sight. The Potter boy was seated on his trunk, leaning against what a more superstitious wizard might have called a Grim. The enormous dog was sitting on the ground, its tail thumping against the dirt, while Potter idly scratched it behind the ears. Despite Potter's seat on his trunk, his head was still level with the dog's own, such was its size.
"Mr Potter," Severus broke the night's silence with an irritated tone. "I am quite displeased with you."
Immediately, the dog's good nature disappeared and it leapt to its feet, fur bristling and fangs bared as it snarled at Snape. The Potions Master glared at the mutt in return, not in the least inclined to put up with any more complications to his night.
"Woah, Blackie," Harry grabbed the beast by the scruff of its neck as he attempted to calm it. "It's ok. He's a teacher at my school. It's ok boy," he spoke into the mutt's ear in a soothing tone. The dog calmed slightly, although it never took its eyes from Snape. "Why are you here, Professor?" Harry questioned with just a hint of nervousness.
"I am here because a foolish student was unable to control his emotions," Snape answered disdainfully, one eye still on the quite possibly rabid beast. "The Headmaster was quite concerned when several wards he has placed over the area activated earlier this evening," he favoured the boy with a dry look. "I do not suppose you know what might have caused that?"
"I was angry," Harry answered, looking at his feet.
"I see," Snape sneered. "And you allow your magic to act freely every time you lose a hold on your temper?" he inquired rhetorically, before continuing. "What compelling reason did you have for throwing such a childish fit? Was the food perhaps not up to standards?" he prodded, well aware that it wasn't anything near so trivial.
Harry glared at his sometimes hostile Potions teacher. "She implied that my mother was a poorly bred dog who should have been culled before passing on her genes," he bit out. At his side, the mutt let loose a rumbling growl from deep within its chest.
"So you decided to destroy the room in a fit of pique?" Snape inquired disdainfully.
"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry gritted his teeth.
"Ah," Snape replied, nodding his head. "I suppose that removes the burden of responsibility from your shoulders, in that case."
Harry held back a snarky reply, biting his lip. "Why are you here?" he asked instead. As Snape raised a contemptuous eyebrow, he elaborated. "I mean, why are you here."
"Because the Headmaster is far too busy putting out the fires caused by your high use of magic at the Ministry. Surely you did not think you could allow your magic to run wild and remain unnoticed by the authorities?"
"I meant why you, Professor," Harry asked, half suspiciously. "You hardly ever talk to me at school, and when you do, it seems like you almost hate me."
"Potter, I know it must be hard, not receiving blind adoration from all quarters, but I'm sure you'll find a way to bear it," Snape drawled, already tired of the conversation. "Did you consider that I was perhaps the only one on hand capable of retrieving you with the Headmaster occupied?" he asked, a hint of the irritation he was feeling creeping into his voice.
"Oh, right," Harry scratched his neck self-consciously.
Reaching into a pocket within his robes, Severus withdrew a small item. "The Headmaster has lodgings prepared and a Portkey to them, Mr Potter," he stated, lip curling slightly as he glanced at the brightly coloured sock in his hands.
Harry glanced at the beast that was still watching Snape with narrowed eyes. "What about-" he began.
"The animal will be remaining here," Snape continued on, "as it is no doubt riddled with fleas and disease."
The dog gave a pitiful whine.
"With luck, the Headmaster will be able to prevent your expulsion," Snape revealed, finding brief amusement in the way Potter's face paled.
"They wouldn't," Harry argued, trying to reassure himself.
"Even after the warning you received a year past?" Snape asked with a smirk. "I suspect that unless you show some commitment to keeping your magic under control and avoiding further incidents of 'accidental' magic, the Headmaster will have to grant some rather large concessions in order to help you."
"How can I do that?" Harry asked, seizing on the opening Snape had offered.
"There are exercises, mental arts and disciplines out there that might aid you in your endeavour," Snape answered vaguely, as he handed the sock to Potter. "I suspect you might even find trace of these in the Hogwarts library."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry answered, somewhat glad that the normally taciturn and scowling man had refrained from glaring at him for the entirety of their conversation, as he had in the past. "When will the Port-"
Severus smirked as the boy and his trunk disappeared mid sentence. He sneered at the mangy cur that was still staring at him suspiciously before stowing his wand and turning on the spot. He was done with annoyances for the evening, and Kronos help any who presumed to disturb his brewing again that night. He disappeared with a faint crack, leaving the dog alone in the park, who shook his head in a very human fashion before turning and loping out of the park himself.
X x X
Harry watched from an upper story window with a frown as Dresden and his mentor pulled away from his house, mulling over this latest development. This 'Gatekeeper' knew things about him, things no living soul knew about. It was doubtful he had learned them through necromancy, aligned with the White Council as he appeared, even before Harry took his 'foreign' status to this world into consideration. If he was to learn more about this potential threat, it seemed he would have to play the Gatekeeper's game and join the White Council. He scowled, rough outlines of a plan beginning to form in his mind.
His focus was drawn from his planning by the roar of a beautiful '67 Impala as it screamed around the corner of his long driveway. He winced as its rear end drifted out and clipped a tree, shattering a tail light and leaving a badly scratched dent in a panel. The driver continued on heedlessly, before coming to a screeching stop in front of his front porch. The driver side door was thrown open as Suzie Blue stepped out with a heavy canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She looked anxious, worried and her usually professional outfit had been replaced by jeans and an untucked T-shirt, the revolver that was customarily holstered at her waist stuck haphazardly in the back of her pants.
As Suzie rushed up the stairs of his porch, Harry gestured loosely with his wand, directly the front door to open before her. Over the last year, he and Suzie had worked together on a number of assignments for Marcone, maintaining a loose friendship outside of their work. He wondered what had brought her to him with such haste.
"Suzie," Harry greeted as he took the stairs to the lower level. "You look like you're in a bit of a rush."
"Harry, I need a favour," Suzie stated shortly, ignoring his observation as she dropped the canvas bag onto his floor with a heavy clunk. The magician eyed her curiously, prompting her to continue. "I need you to help me find my sister and kill the men who took her."
"O-k," Harry blinked, rubbing his jaw. "You have a sister?"
"Yes," Suzie answered shortly. "Marcone was supposed to be the only know who knew."
"Do you know who took your sister or what they want?" Harry questioned his guest as he gestured for her to follow him into one of the rooms that branched off the main floor.
"I trusted the Boss with my sister's safety," Suzie explained as she followed her colleague into the room that appeared to be deceptively small from the outside, examining her surroundings. The walls were lined with a bizarre collection of materials, including numerous containers holding a myriad of colourful stones, clear flasks filled with a variety of liquids (some identifiable, some not) and a workbench that was clear save for a life sized silver prosthetic etched a number of strange markings. "In return," she continued, "he trusts me with some of his more sensitive information—you know, things like the addresses of his safe house, bank account details as well as some of the more delicate tasks he needs taken care of."
"And that's what the people who took your sister want to know," Harry deduced, to which Suzie nodded. "Why not go to Marcone with this?"
"They're watching him somehow," Suzie grimaced, "and they told me doing anything other than getting them the information was the quickest way to get May hurt," she revealed, naming her sister.
"But you still came here," Harry pointed out.
"I told them retrieving what they needed required two people to do and that you were the second person," Suzie admitted. "You're the only person I could think of who could help me find my sister." She unzipped the canvas bag and rummaged around within, before withdrawing a used comb. "This is May's brush. You can use this to find her, right?" Suzie demanded.
"Nah," Harry shook his head, turning to lift one of the flasks from the wall before sifting through a large box filled with a variety of bowls.
"What?" Suzie's voice shook slightly, knuckles whitening as they gripped the brush.
"I don't do the whole hair thing," Harry expanded, seemingly unconcerned with Suzie's stressed state. "Hmmm, this might work..."
Suzie watched as the magician trailed off, pouring a clear liquid from the flask into a plain steel bowl. She wrinkled her nose. From the smell, the liquid was vodka.
Harry stirred the bowl with the tip of his wand gently, focused intently on the blank surface. His eyes began to droop and he pulled his wand from the liquid, but continued with the stirring motion. The swirling vodka stilled suddenly and a flurry of images flashed across its surface for a brief moment—and then Harry drew back swiftly, just in time for the metal bowl to buckle and warp, launching its contents up into the air. Before the vodka could fall and splatter everywhere, Harry poked it with his wand, vanishing it.
"They're on the move," the magician muttered to himself as he returned to the box full of containers and chose one, hooking another flask from the wall with his wand in a more confident manner.
"How can you tell?" Suzie prodded, a small worm of doubt creeping into her tone. For all that her work involved taking disparate sets of data and seemingly unrelated happenings and somehow forming them into a cohesive whole of useful information for her boss, there was logic and solid reasoning behind her work. She couldn't help but be dubious of the way Harry was apparently searching for her sister.
Harry didn't answer immediately, instead pouring several heavy dollops of syrup into the wooden bowl he had chosen. "Where I come from," he answered finally, "this sort of scrying is considered a charlatans trick, or a last resort for those without true talent. When I was in my sixth year of schooling, I found out that that was a complete load of bollocks," he revealed as he began to stir the heavy substance with his wand. "All you need is a connection between yourself and what you're looking for and a sense of willpower great enough to strengthen that connection to the point that you can find what you're looking for. In this case, the connection is that I know you, you know your sister and you want me to find her. It's a bit more complicated than that and the material you use can help or hinder, but that's the gist of it. Aha!"
At Harry's exclamation, Suzie scrambled forward to catch a glimpse of what he had found. Within the wooden bowl, there was an image of a young girl who couldn't have been more than 17 with red hair trussed up in what appeared to be the back of a van. She was busy glaring a hole in the heavy set man watching over her, and likely would have been giving him an earful as well if not for the gag tied across her mouth.
Forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers, Harry raised his hands away from the bowl, resulting in the point of view rising with them. The shift revealed a white van sitting at a set of lights in what looked to be the industrial part of town. As the van took off from the lights, its number plate came into view, although too blurry to make out.
"The plates," Suzie ordered. Harry complied, tilting the view and bringing it closer to the back of the van. Suzie memorised the back of the plates with a grim smile. She had them.
At her side, Harry allowed himself a small smile. These kidnappers seemed like just the people to relieve his frustration on, before returning to the problem of the Gatekeeper with a clear head.
XxX
"Fuck," Suzie swore, taking in the abandoned van parked on the curb of the empty street in the warehouse district . She'd lost them.
After gaining the details of the plates on the van holding her sister, Suzie had Harry Apparate them to her office, where she had spent twenty minutes running them through the various systems she had created in the course of her job. Compared to the sort of information Marcone usually had her tracking down, tracing the path of a van in a heavily populated city was simple. Finding a small group of people after they'd abandoned the vehicle she was using to track them, not so much.
"Hey, Suzie," Harry drew her attention as he rifled through the front cab of the van. "Someone fancies them self a wizard." He tossed a purple bound book with arcane symbols on the cover to her.
"Is it genuine?" the bluenette asked, flipping through the pages.
Harry shrugged. "Some of the rituals there seem more like what you'd expect from a bunch of teenagers having a séance, but I've seen Dresden do some of the other stuff."
"If a wizard is orchestrating this, do we need backup?" Suzie asked bluntly.
Harry snorted, shooting the book a contemptuous look. "If they've been learning from books like that, I'll smack them down like a little bitch."
Suzie grinned nastily, before returning to the task at hand. "Got a way of tracking them, or am I going to have to bribe the homeless man over there?" she asked, nodding to an alleyway across the street.
Harry's wand was suddenly resting on his open palm. "Point me, May Blue," he stated clearly.
The wand didn't so much as quiver, prompting Suzie to grimace. "Try May Mossman," she interjected.
Harry repeated the finding spell and the wand spun several times before pointing down the street at a warehouse that stood apart from its neighbours. He raised an eyebrow at Suzie, mouthing 'Mossman?', which she staunchly ignored.
"The doors are likely alarmed," Suzie observed, eyes taking in the building her sister was being held in. "We can take the fire escape and scope the place out through the skylights on the roof."
Without bothering to warn her and uncaring of the homeless man still watching from across the street, Harry took Suzie's hand in his and Apparated them to the roof silently. She stumbled slightly, then regained her balance and glaring at Harry. He winced as she did her best to fracture every bone in his hand in warning, before releasing him and approaching the skylight they had appeared next to. The glass was too murky to see through, covered in filth that had spent years accumulating. Suzie rubbed at it in an unsuccessful attempt to clear a view. She turned to Harry, gesturing at the glass in mute question. Crouching down beside her, Harry tapped the glass with his wand, vanishing it and clearing their view into the dark warehouse.
For the most part, the building was empty, save for concrete pillars spaced out evenly and various pieces of litter and debris, as well as a number of wooden crates dotted about the floor that looked as if they'd been placed there intentionally. In the corner of the building was what appeared to be an office. Candlelight flickered against the windows of the small room from within, and two men leaned against the wall on either side of the office door.
Harry muttered a spell, tapping his wand to his glasses. His gaze flicked around the warehouse for several moments before he tapped his glasses a second time, ending the spell. "There are three people inside the office," he informed Suzie. "One seated behind a desk, one sitting on the floor in the corner and one standing next to the one in the corner."
Suzie blinked, absorbing the information. "May will be the one in the corner, the one standing near her is the guard and the one behind the desk is the one who orchestrated this all." She gave the office a critical once over. "I need my bag," she told him.
Another flick of his wand and the canvas bag Suzie had been carrying with her all day came flying across the street from where it had been left next to the kidnapper's van, coming to a stop floating before her. Harry continued to watch the two guards outside the office while Suzie rummaged within the bag. At the sound of metal on metal, Harry turned a curious eye on his companion. When he saw what she had been hiding within the bag, his eyebrows rose to join his hairline.
"How quickly can you get May out of there?" she asked calmly as she watched the two guards through the scope of the sleek black rifle she had just finished assembling. She made a small adjustment to the scope and settled herself into a more comfortable position, resting the rifle on the edge of the skylight.
"Two and a half seconds," Harry replied, guessing the rest of Suzie's plan. "You sure you can deal with those two?" he asked, not questioning her ability but her willingness to do so.
"I didn't luck into working for Marcone, Harry," Suzie replied, drawing the bolt back and pushing it home, sliding a round into the chamber with a dull clack. "I'm not a girl scout."
"I can see that," Harry agreed, enjoying the way Suzie's tight jeans clung to her figure as she lay on the roof, leaning into the rifle. "Ready when you are."
"Go."
At Suzie's command, Harry crouched and Disapparated, reappearing inside the office between May and her guard. Shaking off the head spin that came from Apparating to a location outside his line of sight, Harry ignored the startled shouts of the two other men in the room and grasped May's arm, disappearing from the building. As he reappeared on the roof, the rifle in Suzie's hand spat quietly, once, twice, and the two guards outside the office slumped to the ground, red splatters decorating the wall behind them.
The bindings around May's hands and mouth shrivelled into dust after Harry tapped them with his wand. The teen girl's eyes were slightly wild as she took in her new location, and a strange look passed over her face when she caught sight of Suzie packing up her rifle. Harry ignored it as a curiosity as his attention was drawn to more pressing matters.
"Suzie, problem," Harry drew his colleague's attention with a frown.
"What is it?" Suzie demanded, hurriedly stowing the pieces of her rifle. Harry merely nodded towards May, more specifically the chunk of hair that looked like it had been removed with a knife. Suzie cursed, looking back to the office where she could see a pair of shadows moving about with haste.
"What the fuck is happening here?" May demanded, speaking up for the first time. Unlike her sister, May's accent was definitely American.
"We need to destroy that lock of hair," Suzie stated, beginning to retrieve her rifle once more, paying no attention to her sister.
Harry shook his head. "I'll take care of that. You get your sister out of here."
Suzie stared at him for a long moment, before nodding sharply. "Be careful. May, follow me."
"Not happening, not until you tell me what the fuck just-" May raised her voice, almost on the verge of hysterics.
"May," Suzie barked, discarding all trace of her usual playful personality. "Now is not the time."
"Not the time? I don't see you for months, I get kidnapped, Christ knows when I'm going to see you again, now seems like a pretty fucki-"
Harry Disapparated and reappeared in the middle of the warehouse floor, leaving the two sisters to their argument. He was confident that Suzie could get her sister out of the area in short order, but until then he had a wizard to deal with. Silently, he cast a spell at the corpses of both kidnappers that had been standing guard, before casting several more at the wooden crates closest to the office. Briefly, he considered taunting the two men inside the office to draw them out, but then shrugged and decided to wing it. Casually, he threw a spell that generated a wave of concussive force towards the office, blowing in the windows and sending shards of glass flying about the enclosed area.
Several moments later, the man who had been standing guard over May stumbled out through the door that was now hanging askew from its hinges. Catching sight of Harry, he raised the semi-automatic in his hands and opened up on the magician.
Harry's wand hand twitched instinctively, and a large solid silver shield snapped into existence before him. The bullets hit the shield with a faint pinging sound, ricocheting off the barrier and around the room. Had he been able to see the other side of the shield, Harry knew he would find an enormous snarling polar bear embossed upon it.
Hearing the gun run dry even as the kidnapper attempted to continue firing despite this, Harry released his hold on the shield and willed a previous spell to activate. The corpses the kidnapper stood between detonated, hurling pieces of bone and other bloody matter across the warehouse, along with the body of the still living kidnapper himself. The man stayed airborne until he collided heavily with one of the concrete pillars supporting the roof, slumping to the ground unconscious.
It was then that the office walls exploded outwards in a burst of savage kinetic force, shards of wood and glass blasting across the warehouse in a deadly wave. Harry raised his wand hand in a warding gesture before himself, stopping any debris that would have hit him in its tracks. As the barrage came to a stop, he lowered his hand, allowing the blocked debris to fall to the ground with a clatter.
While his attention had been diverted, the hooded figure of the wizard who had apparently orchestrated the kidnapping of Suzie's sister had come to stand in the warehouse proper, staring him down. Harry smiled in return, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. Finally, the other man spoke.
"You are no Warden," he declared.
"Oh, bravo good sir," Harry responded mockingly. "What gave it away?"
The wizard gave no response, though Harry imagined if he could see his face he would have been glaring at him. Then his foe began to gather magic to his staff and Harry rocked back on the balls of his feet, ready and waiting. Instead of throwing fire or ice, however, his foe rapped out a pattern on the concrete floor with his staff with an expectant air.
As it turned out, the wooden crates dotting the warehouse that looked as if they had been placed there deliberately had been placed there purposely. The tops of the crates were blown off as pillars of flame burst from within, before turning and seeking for intruders with deadly purpose. Several turned off to immolate the unconscious kidnapper Harry had already dealt with, while the majority turned for Harry himself.
The first pillar, Harry sucked into his wand, purifying it, before sending it back out at twice the strength to chase the wizard who had originally set it on him. The second and third Harry captured and directed into a small glass vial he had conjured, hurling it towards the office that hopefully held the lock of May's hair that the wizard had taken. The fourth, fifth and sixth pillars were blasted by geysers of freezing water that resulted in sharp blasts of steam obscuring much of the warehouse from sight. It was the seventh through to the tenth pillars of fire that finally forced Harry to Apparate away, putting some distance between himself and the flame. Even as they turned to continue the chase, Harry was completing his preparations.
The steam that hung in the air came alive, cooling rapidly. The air cleared rapidly as the steam condensed around the flames into water, ignoring all the laws, rules and strongly worded suggestions of physics. The pillars of fire were halfway to Harry when the icicles began to form, spreading over the fires to form a casing of ice around them. Harry continued pumping power into the spell, part transfiguration and part charm, until he had four lengths of flame that were imprisoned within the ice, still burning.
"You know what?" Harry began rhetorically, turning to his opponent who had finally managed to deal with the column of fire Harry had set on him. He ignored the glower he was receiving as a result of the half burnt robe the man was wearing and continued on, "I think I'll keep these. A bit of sculpting and they'd do fantastically as bar tables." A tap of his wand and the ice encased flames vanished, on their way to the workroom at his house. "Now, was that all?" he asked, turning his attention back to his foe.
The runes carved into the wizard's staff began to glow once more as he gathered his strength.
"Good," Harry smirked, tracing a pattern in the air with his wand. "Because now it's my turn."
The magician's wand began to crackle with lightning, the wizard's staff began to smoke, and it was at that moment that a squad of grey-cloaked men and women burst into the warehouse, naked blades in hand and ready for trouble.
As the newcomers spread out against the magician and his foe, Harry pivoted and swung his wand in a wide arc, releasing the power that was pent up within. Instead of a bolt of lightning that would have punched a hole in a single target, a flurry of smaller branches reached out towards the newcomers. The closest two men seized up as the electricity hit them, unable to react in time. Of the remaining five, two barked different phrases and had the concrete floor rise up in front of them and their fellows. As the lightning broke upon it, the impromptu wall fell forward, opening the way for two more of the newcomers to stride forwards.
One turned for the wizard Harry had been duelling, who had taken the chance provided to put some distance between himself and the group. The other, a pale European woman, advanced on Harry, a length of string looped loosely around her fingers. One of her fellows backed her up, while the rest of the squad pursued his original foe, who was apparently proving quite capable of defending himself from five opponents at once.
Despite displaying greater aggression, Harry soon found why only two of the wizards had split off to deal with himself, as he felt a constricting pressure settle about his neck. Eyeing the knot the woman had tied with the thread in her hands, he Apparated a metre to his left, breathing easily. Then the pressure returned, and Harry glared at the knot, ignoring a faintly smug expression worn by his attacker. Apparating back to his original position, he seized the brief strangulation free moment and focused, drawing in his will. His curse, as he failed to transfigure what was apparently not ordinary string in his foe's hands into a king cobra, was cut off as he was choked by an invisible force once more.
He glared at his foe, his wand snapping out in a blur as a flurry of curses flew towards his tormentor. She dodged them effortlessly, dancing around the pulses of light and magic like it was a well practised routine. Running out of patience (and breath), Harry conjured a blast of frigid air and ice and sent it at the woman, aiming to impair her dexterity and ability to use the threads in her hands even if he couldn't score a direct hit. It was at that point that her fellow decided to enter the duel, stamping his foot to raise a slab of concrete and block the ice, while simultaneously firing a volley of small fire balls from his staff.
His vision darkening, Harry gave the woman one final scathing glare before Apparating once more, this time out of the warehouse entirely. He gasped for breath as he supported himself against a wall, ignoring the staring of the other occupant in the alleyway he had Apparated to.
"What?" Harry hacked, clearing his throat. "Never seen a real life wizard before?" he asked of the homeless man; the same one Suzie had pointed out as a source of information earlier, he realised.
"Once or twice," the old man blinked before replying, apparently willing to accept the younger man who had appeared out of thin air.
"I'm sure," Harry replied sourly. He began to draw a long thread out of his shirt with the tip of his wand. "Did you see two women come by here just before?"
"Blue and red," the other man nodded, identifying Suzie and May's hair colours. He watched Harry quizzically as the magician weaved the shirt thread between the fingers of his left hand. "They took the van and left."
"Fantastic," Harry sighed to himself, at odds with his words. He looked at the homeless man, only just realising how goddamn tall he was. Then he grinned. "Let's see how you like me now, bitch." Apparating once more and almost wincing at the slight pins and needles sensation he could feel inside his extremities, Harry was once more within the warehouse, his arrival announced by a sharp crack.
Four of the grey cloaks surrounded the wizard who had kidnapped May, battering at a magical shield. Two more were over by a support pillar, one apparently tending to the wounds of the other. The last, the pale woman who had done her best to choke him out earlier was circling the first group, likely waiting for an opening. She spun to face him at the sound of his reappearance, thread ready in her hands.
She spoke a mocking condemnation in what Harry recognised as Russian, her fingers blurring for a moment. When nothing happened, she began another knot, scowling. Harry winked at her and raised his left hand, showing off the (comparatively) basic knot he held in place, allowing him to negate her influence on himself. She spat a curse at him and his smirk grew. Then reached inside the grey cloak she wore and withdrew a slightly curved, rune inscribed wand and started hurling shards of ice at him.
Harry shattered the incoming projectiles with a burst of concussive force, his smirk turning into a wild grin. He was enjoying this, and as he returned fire with a gout of flame, it became apparent to his opponent, much to her ire. She reached into her cloak once more, this time pulling out a small flask and raising it to her lips—only to be interrupted by an explosion that shook the building.
The wizard fighting the others had been fighting was the one responsible, apparently, as three of the grey cloaks were thrown through the air, robes smouldering. Two connected solidly with a wall and moaned unintelligibly, while the third didn't fly as far and rolled haphazardly across the floor, sword flying from his hands. Despite a nasty burn across his face, he still managed to force himself to his feet, arming himself with a short, thick wand.
The fourth grey cloak the kidnapper had been fighting was a smoking corpse that was stepped over as her killer approached Harry, his hood long gone in the fury of the fight. He maintained a small moustache, and wore his black hair cropped short. He came to a stop an arms length from Harry, the two unaligned wizards watching both each other and the grey cloaks as the three—four as the wounded one got to his feet-still mobile members of the squad squared up to them.
"Lay down your foci and submit to White Council justice," the pale woman Harry had been duelling and apparent leader of the group, ordered with a mild a Russian accent.
"Truce to deal with the Wardens," the wizard at Harry's side rasped out quietly, ignoring the 'Wardens. "Then we split ways, and I'll even stay away from your little friend in the future."
"I have a plan," Harry nodded to himself as he tapped his wand to his temple, smiling slyly as the Wardens bristled and readied themselves for violence.
Accepting Harry's agreement, the dark haired wizard turned to face the Wardens fully, a dark smile spreading across his face.
Then Harry reached over and slit his throat.
The dark haired wizard gave Harry a brief, surprised look before he staggered and fell, catching himself on his staff. His free hand went to his trachea, clamping down on the bloody froth that was escaping with each gasping breath. The Wardens watched the apparent betrayal in tense expectation, focused not on the man who was calmly watching his victim die, but on the victim himself. Noticing the direction of their gazes, Harry observed the man. The magician's caution was rewarded as he drew a bloody hand from his throat, heedless of the lifeblood flowing from his jugular.
The man grinned, revealing bloodstained teeth as he raised his staff, a dark, malicious light gathered at its tip. "Bu-burn-" he began to choke out. An immense amount of power began to emanate from him.
"Swords to the warlock. Negate the Death Curse!" the Russian Warden barked out, discarding the thread in her hands and drawing an elegant blade sheathed at her hip. Throwing caution to the winds, the men at her side rushed him, completely ignoring Harry.
The dying warlock thrust his blood covered hand at the charging Wardens, blasting them through the air. He grinned in unholy delight as he drew in even more power, and his eyes flicked to Harry. Their eyes met for a brief second and Harry stole a single thought in the instant provided.
Burn with me.
No, Harry decided, dragging his eyes from the man. He would not. He reached out with his magic, grasping seven different objects around the room with the first charm he had ever learned. He flicked his wand at the warlock negligently, the man's blood slipping from it as he did so.
"Burn with-" The Death Curse cut off with a pained gasp as a sword pierced the caster's stomach, impaled to the hilt. A second and then a third blade took him high in the back, driving him to his knees. Two more blades pinned his arms to his sides. The warlock spent his final moments mentally cursing the green eyed man who had wrought his ruin before the final two blades sank into either side of his neck, driving down until their tips exited his gut.
As the corpse slumped to the ground, Harry became aware of the still mobile Wardens eyeing him warily, their gaze moving between the human pincushion and himself.
"I'm, uh, not with him?" Harry half asked, half stated.
The Russian Warden narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not lie. We track Master warlock and Apprentice warlock from Vancouver. You are most powerful, obviously Master warlock."
"No, really, I've never been to Vancouver," Harry insisted. "What do I need to do to prove that I'm not with that guy? Beyond, you know..." the magician gestured at his fallen foe. "Shish-kebab."
"Surrender your foci and come with us," the woman demanded, fingers flexing like she would very much like to tie him in knots, which, given her skill with the thread magic demonstrated earlier, she likely could.
"Yeah, look lady, that's not going to happen," Harry replied, shaking his head. "How about I do my thing, and you pretend you never saw me?"
The pale woman flushed in anger. "Warlock," she began imperiously, "you are being detained by the Wardens and taken for trial-"
Harry watched as one of her fellows placed his arm on her shoulder, whispering into her ear. She scowled and whispered back, before listening again and then nodding reluctantly.
"But you are permitted to keep your foci," the Warden leader continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Any aggression will be answered with lethal force," she finished with a warning.
"I don't particularly feel like being dragged off to your home turf for whatever reason," Harry stated flatly. "You're going to have to do better than that."
"This is not a negotiation. You will come with us, and if you are truthful you will be released. If not, you will be executed as Warlock." Her face might as well been carved from stone.
Harry hissed at the Wardens, causing them to take a step back in the face of his anger. Their demands were bringing up unpleasant memories; memories he didn't care to revisit. "What if I could provide a reference?" he asked neutrally, bringing his anger back under control.
"Explain," the woman ordered shortly.
"Ask the Gatekeeper about Harry Potter. Until then, you can all fuck right off," Harry took a moment to enjoy the various affronted expressions on the faces of the Wardens, before Apparating away, the last of his patience spent.