*Grabs chair and sits in it*. Yo. It's been a while.

First off, hello! I'm back! And this is part two of the 'Eyes' duology! I repeat, this is part TWO of the duology! If you've clicked on this story and have no idea what the 'Eyes' duology is, go read part one and then come back to this!

Now, if you have read part one, welcome! Time for me to explain where I've been.

In the year and a half since I've finished 'Blue Eyes' and started 'Brown Eyes', I have: moved across continents, finished grad school, gotten engaged, gotten married, traveled to a country I'd never been to for a full month, and finished a manuscript that is getting published under my IRL name! Seriously! AAAAA!

So yeah, been a bit busy.

'Blue Eyes' (AKA part one of this series) was a project I started years ago. When I finished it last year, it was like an end of an era, and I admit that I needed to work on something else while I recharged my Dresden Files battery. But then, with all the IRL stuff happening, I got burnout, and then couldn't write any fanfic stuff for a while. But now I'm back. I'm back, with a new chapter in the series, and fully outlined story, and excitement to see this duology through to the end.

So, for readers who've been around since 'Blue Eyes': thank you. Y'all are part of the reason I'm actually writing down the story and not just keeping it in my head. And for readers who've just found the duology: welcome.

And without further ado, I present chapter one of 'Brown Eyes'!

(PS, if you are wondering what the hell is going on, don't worry, Harry is wondering the same thing XD)


November 1st, Present Day


I stared at my reflection in the mirror and said, "Ok, you're probably not gonna die. You hear that, me? Not gonna die."

My reflection still looked kinda terrified, so I repeated, "I am not gonna die. The spell is safe, and the worst that'll happen is a brain-splitting headache and the chance that I'll be unconscious for the next few months. But no death. You got that?"

Wide eyes stared back at me until I couldn't stand looking at them anymore.

I sighed and stalked out of the bathroom connected to my bedroom. My room's decently big, with hard wooden floorboards, big windows that look over the backyard farmland, and a fresh coat of paint that I did myself. It's better than the room I had before I moved to Missouri, but the size emphasized how empty it is.

There's a bed with a good mattress and two bedside tables, but all that in them are the only photos I have of my mom and dad, alongside a single blue ribbon. There's a long desk with an old-school candle holder, a couple of notebooks, and nothing else. Even the bookshelf was half-empty. Only two of the shelves had anything in them, and the ones that did held books I'd received this year. And one of the shelves was reserved for a small collection of romance novels and a bright, glowing, and goddamn chatty skull.

"So, today's the big day!" Bob cheered. "How ya feeling? Still think you're gonna die?"

"No," I said a bit too quickly. "Ebenezar said I wasn't gonna die, and if he says I'm not gonna die, I'm not gonna die."

"What if I say you're gonna die?" Bob asked.

"I'd say you like to mess with me."

"Just because I like pulling your leg doesn't mean you may not die!" Bob said, the skull's teeth clattering together with every word.

I stepped up to the bookshelf. I put Bob on the shelf just below my eye-line, mostly because it annoys him almost as much as he likes to annoy me. I've hit my growth spurt, and even though I just turned sixteen, I'm almost six feet tall. That let me stare down at Bob with all the smugness I could pull out of me.

"Bob, tell me. With all your vast knowledge of magic and spells and rituals, is there anything that suggests this spell will kill me?"

The light in Bob's eyes shifted from blue to orange. "I see what you're doing. Come on, Harry, you know I'm messing with you! There's nothing that suggests the spell will kill you, but can't I have some fun with this?"

"Hey, I'm the one going under the spell!" I said.

"Yeah. And that'll leave me all alone! You know how boring it's gonna be to talk to you when you're unconscious? It's gonna be—ok, it's gonna be a little fun, but mostly boring!"

"You'll have Ebenezar to talk to."

Here's the thing, Bob is a glowing spirit inside a human skull. But despite the fact that he literally doesn't even have eyebrows, he somehow managed to look like he was rolling his eyes. "Harry, the only time that man will talk to me is to pick my incorporeal brain for anything information he can drag out of me. You think he'll stay for a casual chat?"

"Probably not."

"Exactly!" Bob scoffed. "Only reason I like the guy is because he actually consulted me on what to get you for your birthday. At least he's wise enough to realize when he needs the advice of someone as knowledgeable as I am!"

I chuckled and glanced at the Flash comics on the bookshelf. When I managed to sneak off into town when DuMorne was busy, sometimes I'd go into the comic book shop and read whatever I could. I never brought them back to the house, of course. I can't even imagine what would've happened if DuMorne had found them.

So when Ebenezar gave me the comics, I was so shocked I didn't even remember how to say 'thank you' for a solid three minutes. We didn't do much, and I still had to do my usual chores around the farm, but it was the best Halloween I'd had in a long time. It made me glad that we waited to do the spell, since it meant I was actually awake for my birthday.

Unfortunately, though Bob was right about the kind of present I didn't even know I wanted, he didn't get the superhero right. I'm not that big into the Flash, but these were the first comics I'd ever owned, so maybe this was a sign that I should get into them. Well, after I go through this whole 'fixing my head' spell.

When Ebenezar told me that my former mentor had magically altered my brain, I almost didn't believe him. But the more he talked, and the more things started to make sense, the more I realized that DuMorne had messed me up more than I knew was possible.

Six months ago, I killed my former mentor, Justin DuMorne. I was hunted and captured by a magical Council I never knew existed, almost got executed, and got put under the Doom of Damocles. I've been under the guardianship of the wizard who agreed to teach me ever since, and he's the one who realized that I've been under a magical spell for at least five years of my life.

My hands were shaking. I balled them into fists.

Bob's flames shifted until they were light blue. "Harry… you do know you're gonna be fine, right?"

"I know." I turned away from the skull and started pacing the length of the room. "I know it's very likely I'll be fine. Actually, it's almost guaranteed. But I'm just—you know—a little…"

"Nervous? Fearful? About to crap your pants?" Bob chuckled, and the lights in his eyes flickered. "You're about to go under some heavy-duty magic, Harry. I'd be scared if you weren't nervous!"

"Are you talking to that infernal skull again?" a raspy voice bellowed from the other side of my door.

"'Infernal' is a tad harsh, don't you think?" Bob bellowed back. "How about 'helpful'? 'Suave'? Oh! Oh! How about 'fantastical'? That one's got a nice ring to it!"

"Can't believe I let the boy keep him," the man grumbled.

Despite everything, I laughed. "You can come in, sir."

The door opened, and a man stepped into the room. He's short, with patchy white hair, a thick beard that covered his lower face, fading overalls, and a tall staff made out of brown wood. He's old, but by the way he holds his head high and looks at people, you know his mind is as sharp as it was a hundred years ago.

At least, I think he was alive a hundred years ago. Wizards can live for a long time. And though Ebenezar McCoy only took me on as his apprentice six months ago, I'm pretty sure he was telling the truth when he said that he lived through a time when kids were seen as spoiled for growing up with electricity.

Ebenezar shut the door behind him. "You ready, Hoss?"

"As I'll ever be." I forced myself to sit down on the edge of my bed. "I mean, I got my asshole adoptive dad messing with my head, and apparently it's so bad I need to go into a magic coma to fix the shit he did to me. I don't know how I'm supposed to prepare for that one. Join a cult? Get hooked on infomercials?"

Ebenezar gave me a pointed look.

I winced. "You're staring at me because I said 'shit', aren't you?"

Ebenezar sighed. "If it were any other day, I'd have you muck out the stalls. But… today isn't any other day. Is it?"

My gaze fell to the floorboards, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my right leg from bouncing up and down from the nerves. "…Yeah."

Ebenezar walked over, and I felt the mattress dip down as he sat next to me on the bed. "It's gonna hurt. It's going to hurt a lot."

I shrugged. "Don't think it can hurt more than it already does."

"You'd be surprised," my mentor said frankly but calmly. "There are a lot of things that can happen to you when we go through this. A lot of painful memories that might get brought to the surface. It's not gonna be pretty, and it'll likely hit you worse than you expect."

"Even if it does, I'm ready. Justi—DuMorne," I corrected with a scowl. "Might've raised me, but he doesn't get to own my head. If he's really done something to it, I want it fixed."

"Things like this aren't fixed that easily," Ebenezar said. "Even if this does work, and that's a big if, you'll still come out hurt the other side. He messed with your mind, Hoss. That's something no one gets over easily. DuMorne didn't just mess with your body—he messed with your heart. The bits and bobs that make you you."

I ducked my head. "You saying that I'm not the same Harry Dresden I used to be?"

Ebenezar jabbed my leg with the end of his staff, but there was no force behind it. Not like it was with Jus—DuMorne. DuMorne would've made it hurt.

"Don't interrupt me, boy," Ebenzar said lightly. "But to answer your question… you're never the same Harry Dresden you used to be. You're a different Harry today than you were a year ago. A different Harry today than you were yesterday. You are always you, Hoss. And no one on Earth can take that away from you."

A warm, comforting feeling settled inside my chest. It was quickly replaced by the anxiety I'd been feeling for the past week. "But DuMorne still changed me."

"He did. In a sense." Ebenezar sighed. "There's a lot of things that make you Harry Dresden, and one of those things is your memories. That's the bit DuMorne changed. We humans, we're more than just our pasts, but the past still shapes our present. What DuMorne did to your psyche, that has affected every choice you've made until now. Undoing all that… it'll take its toll on you. And you need to understand that the toll will hurt."

My leg stopped bouncing. The nerves were still there, but now they were mixed in with a deep hurt that swirled in my chest. "Sir… have I told you about the Christmas after I turned six?"

"Don't believe you have."

"It was a little after my dad died. I'd already been taken in by the state, and I was watching tv at the orphanage. It was some cartoon—don't even remember what it was. But I remember this commercial that came on. For Rock'em Sock'em Robots."

"Rock and socking… what?"

"It's a toy, sir. A couple of plastic robots in a boxing ring." I grinned a little, but the smile left as fast as it had come. "There were two brothers playing with them—in the commercial, I mean. I'd never played with them before, but for some reason, all I wanted to do was give them to my brother. My brother who didn't even exist."

"A brother…" Ebenezar said very, very quietly. "I see. If you had a brother, you could give him the toy. And… it'd mean that you weren't alone."

"But I was alone." I took a deep breath to try to steady my voice. "I didn't have a brother to play with me. I didn't have my dad to take me camping. I didn't even have my mom, and that's because she died the day I was born. I… I didn't have anyone. I haven't celebrated Christmas since. Not even after DuMorne adopted me when I was ten. And that—that hurt me more than anything. Even now."

Just thinking about it now made my chest ache. I remember the loneliness I felt, even though I was surrounded by other kids who had also lost their families. I remember how tired I was, since I spent weeks crying myself to sleep. And I remember just how much I missed my dad. How much I wanted him to come back to me.

I finally raised my head and turned to Ebenezar. So he could fully understand what I was about to say. "Sir, when you say that this spell will hurt me, I believe you. But you gotta understand that even if it does… I doubt that it'll be worse than the hurt I already live with."

My mentor nodded slowly. "I'll ask this one last time. Are you sure you want to do this?"

I turned up to Bob, who had been oddly silent ever since Ebenezar had entered the room.

"This is your choice, Harry," Bob said solemnly. "It's a big one, and I'm not gonna make it for you."

My hands were shaking again. I used them to push me up to my feet.

I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Before I killed DuMorne, I'd had an itch at the back of my head that things weren't quite right. But I was so happy to have someone in my life that I ignored it. I ignored it to the point where I couldn't recognize the lie under my own nose, and to this very day, it still haunts me every time I see my reflection.

"Sir," I called out over my shoulder. "What color are my eyes?"

"Brown," Ebenezar replied firmly. "You have brown eyes."

I turned back to the mirror. Green eyes as bright as summer grass stared back at me.

"Brown eyes," I said. "That's what you see?"

"That's what I see."

"Bob?"

"I may not have eyes of my own anymore, but I can still see," Bob yelled from the bedroom. "And I'm damn sure you've got brown eyes, Harry."

I nodded. "Then I wanna do this."

I went back into the bedroom and met Ebenezar's eyes. "Sir, I want to do this. No matter what happens—even if it kills me—I want to do this."

Ebenezar blinked a couple of times before barking out a laugh. "I'd forgotten how dramatic teenagers can be," he said, before giving me a warm smile. "Alright. Lay down."

I took a steadying breath before walking over to the bed. I lay down, face up, and curled my fists around the comforters.

Ebenezar leaned down and gripped my shoulder with his large, calloused hand. "I don't know when you'll wake up, but I can promise that you won't go dying. Not on my watch."

A wave of emotion rolled through me. "Thank you," I croaked.

Ebenezar gave my shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "Let's begin."

My mentor stood up straight and gripped his staff with both hands. He whispered chants in a language I didn't recognize, and the carvings on his staff began to glow in shades of orange, yellow, and white.

I glanced over at Bob, who looked down on me with calm, comforting blue flames.

"Good luck, Harry," Bob said. "And I know the wizard said you wouldn't die, but at least try to come out of this without losing your sanity. If you don't, I'm stuck with the old geezer!"

I laughed. "I'll do my best, Bob."

Ebenezar's words grew louder. Even the lights coming from his staff shone brighter, and they slowly twisted their way out of the wood. They blanketed me, shielding me inside a cocoon of swirling colors. The oranges and yellows mixed together, combining themselves with swirls of blue, pink, and red. They spun together until they fully combined, settling into a deep brown.

Brown.

Ebenezar says my eyes are brown. Bob says my eyes are brown. When I would sneak away from DuMorne and into town, no one made comments about my eyes, because really, when do people ever talk about someone else's eye color? But I remember this one woman—someone I only spoke to once or twice—who told me my eyes were the same color as her daughter's. But the little girl next to her had brown eyes, so I rolled my eyes and assumed she was talking about another daughter.

A feeling of drowsiness swept over me. My eyes fluttered shut.

I don't have brown eyes. But Bob says I do. Ebenezar says I do. Even Ebenezar's few neighbors in Hog's Hollow say I do. But when I look in the mirror, I don't see brown eyes. I see green.

Green eyes. For as long as I can remember, I've always had green eyes.