Disclaimer – Jim Butcher owns these characters. All I get out of this is telling a story in the TV Verse
Baked In
Sequel of sorts to Burnt Out – all the snippets of Harry and Bob and the house being themselves. Plus some small case fics, and well 'five kids in five minutes: ask me how' has some distinct possibilities… consider this well and truly alternate universe
o0o0o
Trials and tribulations
They'd gotten into the habit of distributing their mail at the dinner table, as it usually arrived when everyone was at work or school. Whoever had cleared the mailbox would distribute letters beside the place setting of the person they were addressed to, and Harry and Sheryl had both decreed they could be read once the meal was consumed. The kids sometimes got postcards from friends who had travelled somewhere interesting, and dessert was technically after the meal, which meant that there was sometimes very odd discussions over ice cream of holiday destinations, and some of Harry's own travels.
The letter that sparked the latest tale was not, in fact, related to travel. Harry had received a letter from a law firm and he'd opened it while the kids ate their ice cream and talked about their homework assignments. He'd almost choked on his coffee when he realised what he held and Sheryl and shot him a concerned look, which he'd waved off.
"What is the letter, Pa?" Hannah asked and he waved it in the air, not handing it over as he didn't want ice cream smudged on it.
"It's from a lawyer," he told her, "About my former landlord."
"We have a landlord?" Al asked, confused. Julia and Mark looked a little concerned, and Harry waved a dismissing hand.
"I am your landlord," Harry informed Al in his best Darth Vader voice, and got a snigger from the kid in response, "No, the landlord I had for the place I lived before I lived here."
Sheryl and Scott both made 'oh' noises and shared a look. Harry's kids apparently hadn't realised that he had ever lived anywhere other than the house they called home. Places he'd stayed when travelling didn't count in their minds.
"You didn't always live here?" Julia asked, "Pops said he raised you here."
"We moved out for a while," Harry told her, "Pops and I used to have an office and apartment together downtown. It was burnt down about five months before you all joined me here."
"Why did you move out?" Hannah frowned and Harry sighed. Sheryl made as if to interrupt but Harry shook his head at her.
"You know I had a bad reputation, right? In fact a lot of people still think of me badly," Harry told the kids, "I made a terrible mistake, with magic, and my uncle died. I couldn't stand to be here after I was exonerated, so Pops and I found a place to live in the city together."
"You made a mistake like us?" Mark gasped. Mark tended to think of Harry as a role model, and losing that was going to hurt, but Harry had determined that he would never lie to his kids.
"Yes," Sheryl said before Harry could confess to murder, accidental or not, "He made a mistake, and he's been punished for it. And he has to live with that mistake, but its ok kids. All those people who think mean things of him because of his mistake don't know him like we do."
Julia got up and came to hug him, squeezing him so tightly he thought she'd leave bruises, then left the room in a hurry. Sheryl got up and started collecting plates, triggering the end-of-dinner clean up routine.
At bedtime Mark hugged Harry tightly too, which was not usual for the teen but greatly appreciated by the older man. His three youngest certainly didn't seem phased by the idea that he'd made a mistake, saying goodnight as usual, and Harry was very relieved when he went back to the front parlour once all the children were in bed.
Bob had picked up on the atmosphere of course, he was sensitive to such things in the way that only a ghost can be, and he was waiting with Sheryl.
"Harry has been summoned to court," Sheryl told Bob before he could ask, "About the fire that destroyed your apartment. The kids hadn't realised that you two ever lived anywhere but here."
"Please tell me that you didn't confess to murder, Dresden," Bob said sharply, showing how well he knew not only Harry, but their children, "Because it is high time you stopped seeing it that way."
"He didn't," Sheryl held up a hand but was interrupted by Harry, who was frowning at his Pops.
"He's dead at my hand," Harry ran a hand through his hair, although he didn't know why he was arguing against his own exoneration.
"In self defence," Bob snapped, "He would have killed you the moment he realised he'd lost control of you, and you were too grief stricken to hide that he already had. I wasn't begging for your life as a distraction!"
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, "I know you're right."
Sheryl folded him into her arms as he wept, and Bob paced furiously, angry that it wasn't him offering the much needed comfort. The room felt colder than usual, the house expressing its own worry.
"Are you done?" Sheryl asked when Harry pulled back, the same matter-of-fact phrase they both used when the kids had an outburst. He huffed a laugh at her and nodded, wiping his face and sitting down when she pointed to a chair.
"Why would the prosecution call you to trial now?" Bob asked, deciding that sticking to the matter at hand was best.
"Its the defence lawyer," Harry pulled the letter out and unfolded it again, "I'm being called by the defence. This is a civil matter. Apparently one of our neighbours died from complications caused by the smoke inhalation a month after the fire. Their family is suing Harold Parker, our ex landlord, for the arson plot."
"But it was fire demons that set fire to the apartment. He may have had intent, but he was not actually the cause," Bob frowned. Sheryl sighed and looked up from the letter that she'd twitched from Harry's fingers.
"This particular defence lawyer is well known for muddying the waters to get his clients off on technicalities that implicate innocent third parties," she informed them both, "He's scum, but he's clever scum. I've prepared cases against him for my firm before, and he's very good at what he does."
"I am not taking responsibility for the fire," Harry stated flatly, "He may not have sent demons, but he intended to burn the place down."
"You'll just have to be cleverer than he is," Sheryl said, "Keep your answers short and unequivocal. I'll try and come. Bob, they won't let you into the courthouse, they scan all the bags. There is no way we could explain you. I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't be able to watch anyway," Bob replied with a sigh, "I'd be likely to be discovered as a ghost in a space that unpredictable. I will await your report, young man, and you'd better make a good showing of yourself."
"Yes, your ghostliness," Harry mumbled, "Excuse me."
Bob watched him trudge from the room and shot a helpless look at Sheryl.
"He didn't confess to murder," she repeated, "He did confess to making a terrible mistake with magic. Julia and Mark took it well though. I don't think we'll have any trouble."
"He's never pretended to be perfect, but the children tend to ignore his bad reputation. They bonded in such dire circumstances, they tend to think their parents were just exaggerating," Bob tapped his fingers to his lips, "Well, it has happened, and we will deal with tomorrow when it comes."
"Shall I take you to his room?" Sheryl asked, and Bob gave her a pensive smile. He wasn't sure that Harry wanted the company, but he would prefer to be close to hand, in case he was needed.
"Please," Bob nodded, "And thank you, for comforting him."
"He's a good man," Sheryl smiled, "He just needs reminding that we love him now and then."
"Indeed," Bob nodded and retired to his skull before his emotions got the better of him.
0o0o0
Bob had closely supervised Harry's dressing the morning of his court appearance, and so Harry found himself in a navy three piece suit with a crisp dress shirt underneath. He'd refused the tie on the condition that he button the waistcoat, which he didn't usually do, and he wore his canvas sneakers. The suit emphasised his lean physique, and the school bus driver had leered at him when he put the youngest ones onto the bus.
He'd told Murphy that he was going to be in court, but didn't expect to see her as she had work to do. She'd made vague mention of having lunch together, and Harry looked forward to it. He was surprised, when he took the stand, to see Morgan sitting in the back row of the courtroom, his face impassive.
Either the warden was there to ensure that Harry didn't expose the world of magic to the court system, or he wanted something specific from Harry. Harry put it out of his mind and focused on the lawyers in front of him.
Parker did not look pleased to see Harry at all, and the lawyer had looked at him askance as he'd stepped up to the stand. Harry thought it might be because the ex-landlord was used to seeing him look scruffy and threadbare. Harry took this as a clue that they did indeed intend to paint him as an untrustworthy tenant and blame the fire on him. Looking respectable and well groomed was not playing into their hand.
"You were present the night of the fire, Harry?" the lawyer asked, a smirk on his face, his tone implying they were friends.
"I was, Counsellor," Harry replied evenly, his tone making it clear they were not.
"And did you see who set the fire?" it was the obvious question, as the arsonist had never been caught. At least not by mundane authorities. The lawyer leaned his arm on the edge of the witness box, sending a smirk at the jury.
"No," Harry's tone and expression hadn't changed.
"You had trouble making the rent, did you not? You were late on several occasions?" was the next obvious question, which the opposing attorney immediately protested. The question was eventually allowed, but Harry hadn't moved or changed his expression at all during the debate, watching the lawyer with a thoughtful expression.
"I am an independently employed private investigator," Harry looked over at the jury to answer, giving them a small self deprecating smile, "I have a hard time turning people down when they need help, even when they can't afford it. I've always paid the rent, and my bills, just sometimes a day late or so."
The lawyer frowned for a moment and then smiled again, sticking his hands in his pockets and winking at Harry.
"That's not all that you state as your job though isn't it? You advertise in the phone book as a wizard?" he chuckled, "Really, a wizard, Harry? Give us a show then!"
"My father was a stage magician," Harry looked at the jury again, "He died on the road, and … well, I haven't his skills exactly, but it seemed a way to honour him. I certainly don't pull rabbits out of hats and would never offend the dignity of the court by playing tricks under oath."
Several jury members nodded as the lawyer whirled towards his table to disguise the scowl. Harry and Bob had discussed how to handle the 'wizard' side of things and Harry wasn't lying as such. Plus the comment about trickery wouldn't hurt him with the members who looked to be tired of the lawyers tricks. This was the fourth day of trial and Harry was the last witness. If the lawyer was going to introduce reasonable doubt, now was his last chance. In the back Morgan nodded once, and Harry refrained from rolling his eyes at the warden, not wanting to distract the jury from the careful web of lies he was weaving under oath, something that could have serious implications for his powers.
"Did you keep candles in the apartment?" the lawyer asked, the fake friendship dropping from his tone.
"Yes," Harry replied, smiling at the man mildly. His kids had told him how off putting that smile was when they were in for a scolding, and it apparently didn't sit well with the lawyer either.
"So it could have been an unattended candle that started the fire? And you had a cat as well, I believe, against the terms of your lease?" the lawyer rushed the first question through, hoping to sneak in the implication that Harry and his cat had started the fire. The opposition were on that quickly though and Harry sat quietly again, paying attention to the people speaking with an expression of faint interest, well aware that several members of the jury were watching him to see if he looked guilty. The questions were allowed, and Harry crossed his legs calmly when the judge instructed him to answer, folding his hands in his lap and leaning back as comfortably as he could in the wooden chair.
"I had been quite busy at work in the weeks that led up to the fire, and fell asleep on the couch before dinner. It was still light when I fell asleep, so no candles were burning unattended for Mister, my cat, to knock over. I woke coughing from the smoke," Harry told the jury, "The rent check would have been on time that month, but alas the building was no longer there..."
This won him several chuckles from the jury and a snort of aggravation from the landlord.
"Are you saying that the animal was allowed?" the lawyer was grasping at straws now.
"I had a verbal agreement with my original landlady, who gave me the cat when she moved out of town, just prior to selling the building," Harry replied, "I'm not sure where she got him from, she just said he needed a home and he seemed to like living with me. He's a cat, you know what they're like."
Again several members of the jury nodded, evidently cat owners themselves. The lawyer shuffled his papers quickly, as if looking for something, letting the silence drag on. This was an intimidation tactic, one that Harry also used with the kids with great effectiveness; and one that he'd seen Murphy deploy on suspects. It never worked on him, not unless Bob did it, because part of Harry was still very much in awe of his cranky teacher. Certainly this lawyer didn't stand a chance.
"Any further questions, counsellor?" the judge prompted in a dry voice and the lawyer looked up, as if surprised.
"Oh, yes well, I suppose we should make it very clear. Did you have any animosity to Mr Parker?"
"No, I was indifferent to him," Harry replied, careful not to show his amusement at the power play, "He was my landlord, so he was due some respect in that regard, but I couldn't say I knew him as person, certainly not well enough to bear him animosity."
"You are under oath, Mr Dresden," the lawyer chided, looking mock disappointed, "Very well, we'll let that stand as your answer. No further questions."
It was a good ploy, introducing doubt at the very end, but Harry merely gave a polite nod of the head and looked at the opposing counsel.
"Mr Dresden, I wasn't expecting to speak with you, so I will keep this brief," the opposition stood, "Were you injured in the fire?"
"Relevance!" the lawyer snapped at once. The judge slapped that down though.
"I had some cuts and burns from breaking out of the back door, and smoke inhalation. My doctor informs me my lungs have scarred from breathing the heated air, which is not an issue now, but might be in my old age," Harry replied. Bob was his doctor, but Harry had seen an actual physician at Sheryl's suggestion, and had the test results to back up what he was saying, "My cat was a bit sooty, but unhurt."
"And had you seen anyone outside the apartment in the days leading to the fire that you feel may have been out of place?" the counsellor asked, well aware that none of the neighbours had reported seeing someone 'case the joint'.
"I did not," Harry conceded.
"No further questions," the opposition informed him and he was waved off the stand.
Morgan met him in the corridor, and Harry couldn't say he was surprised.
"You didn't forswear yourself, at least," he told Harry, "And you didn't implicate anyone. I will inform Ancient Mai."
"Whatever," Harry sighed, "I have a lunch date, if you don't mind."
"I'm not your enemy Dresden," Morgan didn't move from where he was blocking Harry's way.
"I said that to you once," Harry reminded him, "And you made it very clear that I was not your friend. I have no interest in mending fences when I know you will blast right through them the moment it serves your purposes. You want me as an exile, that is your problem."
"But you are not an exile, Dresden," Morgan folded his arms, "Despite everything, despite the way the community has treated you in the past, you are a leader, and one that they respect. You teach their children, a post that would have been inconceivable only a few short years ago. It does the High Council no good to continue a feud that will harm their standing."
"I'm not causing a feud," Harry snapped, thoroughly fed up, "I'm just not playing along to your narrative. You want to clean your own house Morgan, not interfere with mine."
He walked past the warden, his back brushing the wall to get past, perhaps the not most dignified exit but at least one that he could say was on his own terms. He was their 'usual suspect' and they hated to give up a scapegoat. That was fine, and as long as they left his kids alone, Harry was used to it. Didn't mean that he'd mope and bemoan his fate. He had better things to do.
Like meet Murphy on the courthouse steps, the sunlight warming her hair. She was wearing her sunglasses, the pair he'd bought to replace the ones smeared with ant vomit and he grinned, reaching up to tap the arm of them playfully.
"Lieutenant," he laughed as she knocked his hand away.
"You are not borrowing them," she informed him possessively, "I like this pair."
She surprised him by slipping a hand around his waist to the silk in the small of his back and kissing his cheek, "I like the suit too."
She moved back before he could react and led the way down the stairs while he blinked, a goofy grin on his face.
"Well hell, Murph, I'll wear one more often," he replied and followed happily in her wake.
0o0o0
Flash of inspiration
It had been one of those cases. Murphy had called him in just as he was seeing the kids off to the school buses, and Harry had met her at a crime scene that appeared to be serial, and was definitely weird. They had spotted a trail coming off the crime scene, and it had led down into the sewers, so Harry had fetched the hockey stick from the jeep while Murphy collected a torch and her spare clips from the lock box in the glove compartment. She had donned her vest and handed Harry the spare she'd brought along with her.
"Uh…" Harry been too startled to retain his grip when she'd pulled the hockey stick from his hand and then unhooked Bob's bag from his shoulder. She bullied him into putting the vest on, only handing the stick and satchel back in order to ensure it was fitted properly.
"Most people don't shoot me," Harry pointed out, shaking his mothers wards out of his sleeve, "This is pretty good at stopping anything that wants to harm me."
"You have five kids, an apprentice and my kid who are, as we speak, plotting your birthday party next week," Murphy informed him, "Not to mention a Ghost who would be very, very angry if I didn't take what steps I could to make sure you were at said party. Wear the damn vest, Harry."
"Yes ma'am," Harry mumbled, and led the way down into the sewers.
The sewers were about as pleasant as you'd expect, and Murphy had called to Bob the moment they were out of sight of her colleagues. She'd had several private conversations with him over the last few months, which Harry had pointedly not asked either about. They even played chess at times. She and Bob had become close, which Harry was all too pleased to see. Every person that accepted Bob as he was went to mitigate the loneliness of his curse.
"Of all the places you have taken me," Bob informed Harry, "This is the least welcome."
"Be glad you can't smell it," Harry retorted, "We're tracking something."
"Do you know what?" Bob asked, turning to look into the darkness.
"No," Murphy replied, "I thought some sort of serial killer, there were candles in a circle around what was left of the victims, and a … rune, Harry? … a rune burned into the floor."
"It looked like a summoning," Harry told Bob, "But it was too blurred to read properly. And the summoners are missing, although there were a few human fingers left behind."
"Lovely," Bob sounded revolted, "Because that could be anything at all."
They were moving forward at a fair pace as they spoke, Bob drifting from one side of the space to the other as they walked. Murphy had learned to stay close to Harry so he could extend his protection to her as needed.
"There," Harry pointed, and it was an ear this time, glistening in the muck at their feet. Murphy sighed and collected it with an evidence bag.
"This is not the ear that belongs to those fingers, Harry," she grumbled and Bob looked startled.
"How can you tell, milady?" he asked, always wanting to know more about modern science, and she flashed him a tired grin.
"Those fingers belonged to two different Caucasians, this ear belongs to an African American," she informed him. Bob's eyes widened. He evidently had assumed that the victim Murphy had described was a single one.
"Could a coven have gone missing?" Bob asked Harry, "Do we know anyone living in the area?"
"No; but Morgan was muttering about one that had moved to the city recently, when I consulted for him on that banshee case," Harry replied, "He thought that they may have attracted it to them somehow. Apparently they move from city to city, cause trouble, then skip out ahead of the Wardens."
"Great," Murphy muttered, "Just what I needed, a bunch of rogues running around my city."
"They like to recruit people on the edge of the community with each place that they land in," Harry told her, hefting his stick uneasily, "I think Morgan was expecting them to come to me, hence the information share."
Bob snorted, "You're teaching the children of half of the community, advise the wardens when they're over their heads in their investigations, and Ancient Mai came to you for assistance only last month. You are many things, young Harry. An outsider is no longer one of them."
"You helped," Harry muttered, brushing the comments aside with the ease of long habit. He didn't expect their good graces to last, he never did, "Bob, do you hear that?"
"No," Bob murmured after a long moment, "What do you hear? Don't tell me its another ley line. Most people can't hear elemental magic… oh…"
Harry swore and leapt for Murphy, pulling her to his side. She twisted so her back was to his, his arm bent back around her waist. She'd learned those particular curse words were only uttered in dire emergencies, and Harry had only become more protective of her since she'd become a single mother. Her dad had moved up from Florida to help raise Anna, and Murphy had, under the influence, confessed that at least one of them had his attention growing up. Murphy had come to accept that there were things her badge wouldn't protect her from, and that Harry had great instincts when it came to the magic stuff.
They were still moving forward along the trail, and Harry's light began to show that the passage ahead was opening out into a larger space. Harry could hear many things, and he wasn't sure what was elemental and what was mundane until Murphy tensed.
"Is that a sword?" she asked.
"Yeah, someone's fighting up there with a sword," he agreed and Bob hurried forward. He froze in surprise and Murphy twisted to move up beside Harry as they joined him, his arm falling away from her waist.
Morgan, Mai and another man that Harry didn't recognise were fighting with swords against a multi-armed demon that was wielding swords of its own in multiple hands. Someone had inscribed a containment circle on the floor and the three of them were battling to keep the demon in place.
"Its in there, why aren't they casting to send it back?" Bob muttered as Harry reversed his grip on his hockey stick and started inscribing a protective circle for them all. Harry didn't pause his own work as Mai started to cast, her voice harsh with strain in a way that Harry had never heard from her before. The demon's voice rose over Mai, counter casting and negating Mai's working.
"What language was that?" Harry muttered as he sealed the circle, and Bob frowned.
"A very obscure dialect of Sumerian," he shook his head, "A simple casting would be sufficient… oh…"
"It's countering her casting? No matter the language?" Harry guessed, wincing as the stranger almost lost his head to one of the demon's swords. He was saved by a dog, of all things, which was glowing faintly blue, who barrelled out of nowhere and latched onto the arm, knocking it aside. The demon swung the arm with a snarl and the dogs' grip broke, sending it flying towards a twisted mass of metal that looked to have once been some pipes. Harry swept his staff out and caught the dog with a controlled burst of telekinesis, inches from being impaled. He lowered it carefully to the floor and the dog twisted to look at him.
"Dresden! Don't stand there playing catch! Get in here!" Mai barked.
"Stay in the circle," Harry told Murphy, "It can't get to you as long as you are in the circle. Bob…"
"Don't you dare," Bob snarled, "I am coming with you."
Harry took a breath, reading the determination on Bob's face. He nodded after a moment and shrugged the satchel to the small of his back. Murphy grabbed his arm before he could step out.
"I bet it doesn't know Klingon," she hissed and Harry gaped for a moment, before grinning at her and pulling away. Bob looked like he'd swallowed a pineapple, but didn't object as Harry moved towards the fighting, shifting to stay behind the demon at all times, distracting it from the three ranged around it with swords.
"If you all cast at the same time…" Harry called, preparing the words he needed quickly, fixing their meaning and intent firmly in his mind.
"It can counter in three voices," the stranger called back sounding frustrated.
"It can only counter languages it knows," Harry yelled back, dodging the swipe of a free hand as the demon tried to get him where it could see it. Bob exchanged a look with him, then left Harry's side, moving to the fighters and passing the information Harry would need them to know if this was going to work. The demon took advantage of the small distraction, leaving the centre of the circle, and Harry started using the elemental magic the demon was throwing around against it. The dog helped, harrying the demon forward towards the swords, working with Harry to force it back into the middle of the circle. Harry caught it several times when it was sent flying, which seemed to encourage it to take greater risks. It protected him just as fiercely, the two of them establishing a partnership in no time at all.
Once the demon was in place, Bob swept a hand through the air, shouting, "Now!"
The three with the swords all started chanting, different languages and different rituals to bind and banish the demon. It countered them easily, counter chanting in three different voices simultaneously, the cacophony of cast and counter cast almost obscuring Harry's Klingon chant. He'd need to perform two separate casts as Klingon wasn't designed for a major working, so he'd picked a ritual that didn't require a lot of words and was what Bob had once called 'quick and dirty', binding the demon into the circle. Harry pulled the dog thing back, making sure it wasn't caught as the binding formed up.
The binding took and the demon swung to face Harry solely, sealed inside the circle and unable to reach him with its swords, though it battered against the binding furiously.
"You're going to need to be quick, dear boy," Bob hurried around the edge of the circle. Harry nodded and took a deep breath. This next casting would be more complex and the wording needed to be clear and precise. Bob turned to the panting combatants.
"You'll need to stand further back than that," he informed them, his best 'teacher speaking to an idiot' tone cutting through the dim space at them, "Lest you be caught as well. Go to milady Murphy at once."
The stranger and Morgan both limped towards Murphy obediently, and Mai stayed where she was for a moment, just to make her point. Harry ignored her, knowing she'd move when she needed to.
"Get behind me, boy," he said to the dog and was surprised when it did, widening his stance and bracing himself for the effect of the next casting.
Channelling the elements underground was not an easy task. While Earth was closer, as it was all around them, and Water was usually also present, his preferred element of Fire was much harder to conjure, and Air was a fickle element at best. Nevertheless Harry managed to call the elements he needed to encase and drag down the demon, sending it back to where it belonged. The effort drained him and he staggered when the casting released, coughing against his abraded throat. Klingon was not the easiest language to pronounce after all, and he was making it do something its creators had never intended.
The dog thing shoved its shoulder under his hand, in an attempt to steady him, and he was surprised that the dark grey fur was so soft. It was matted in a couple of places with blood and he dropped to one knee, placing his hands carefully to heal the deep lacerations. He was licked on the face for his troubles, and he protested halfheartedly, ruffling its ears and getting back up. Murphy put her hand on his arm and he grinned at her.
"You are brilliant," he caught her hand and kissed the back of it, half bowing as he did, and she snorted at him, pulling her hand free and making a show of wiping it on her trouser leg.
"What the hell language was that?" the stranger asked tiredly, and Harry turned to look at the fighters. Even Morgan looked astonished, and Mai just looked mad, as she always did.
"Klingon," Bob sighed, "Harry: I hate you."
"You're the one who taught me that intent and meaning were just as important as power," Harry shrugged.
"You speak Klingon?" Morgan boggled. Murphy sniggered, and even the dog huffed in apparent amusement.
"Doch law' vISov," Harry told him, which translated roughly to 'I know many things', "The chances of the demon knowing it was so slim, and getting you three to cast at the same time distracted it, which helped get the binding in place."
"Well, that's something I've never heard before," the stranger gave Mai a significant look, which she ignored, and turned to look at the dog sitting at Harry's feet, "Where did you come from?"
The dog looked away, and leaned against Harry's leg tiredly, though its muscles were tensed to run if needed. Sitting, its head was level with Harry's hip.
"He's not with you?" Morgan sounded astonished, "It's been following you around since you arrived."
"It's not with me," the stranger protested, and the dog sighed. Harry rubbed behind its ear in a comforting gesture and it turned its head a little to get his fingers just where it wanted it.
"It's not a dog," Mai spoke up, stepping closer. The growl that followed had Morgan and the stranger taking a long slow step back and Mai freezing in place. Murphy's hand dropped to her gun butt as the dog rose to its feet.
"Knock it off," Harry told it tiredly, and the dog broke off the growl, sitting slowly and resuming its lean against his leg. Harry ruffled the scruff on the back of its neck and Bob pinched his nose between his fingers.
"No," Bob informed Harry. He was not fooled by the 'wide eyed little boy' look he got in return.
"What?" Harry asked innocently. Bob heaved an exasperated sigh, waving his arms a little as Murphy snickered at them. She found their domestic squabbles highly amusing, as did Sheryl for some reason.
"We have a cat," Bob reminded him, "… and five children, and an apprentice. We don't need a dog."
They both ignored Mai's grumble of 'not a dog' as matter of course. Harry was surprised the three sword wielders were still here to be honest. Mai was not one for thanks, and Morgan only stuck around when he wanted something.
"But he likes me!" Harry protested, "And he fights demons! Can we keep him, please?"
Bob opened his mouth to retort and was interrupted by a hopeful whine and the biggest set of puppy eyes he'd ever seen not attached to Harry or the children, even taking the large size of the animal into account. There was a distinct air of mischief about it though. It was apparent the thing was highly intelligent. It would make an excellent physical protector for Harry, something that Bob couldn't do, and it would protect the children as well. The things tail began to wag, slowly at first and then faster the longer that Bob was silent, evidently sensing his change of heart.
"Fine," Bob grumbled, "But you are cleaning up after him. And if he goes for Mister he's out. The cat was here first, Harry."
"Thanks Bob," Harry grinned and Murphy cleared her throat.
"Congratulations," she told him, "Can I redirect our attention to the random body parts that led us down here in the first place now? Was that demon the cause? Or are we still looking for whatever it is?"
"It was the demon," the stranger confirmed and Morgan nodded, both of them finally sheathing his sword. He didn't come any closer to Harry and his new friend though, "I've been tracking the group that summoned it for months."
"The victims were that coven you mentioned?" Harry asked the warden and Morgan nodded again, sighing.
"They were getting more and more brazen about their actions," Morgan confirmed, "They really punched above their weight this time though, and it killed them. We detected the summoning and got there just as they lost control. We managed to chase it down here."
"Where you perverted the very lore of magic to send it back," Mai sounded thoroughly disgusted, "That is not a language, Dresden!"
"It didn't need to be a real language Mai," Harry sighed, "Intent and meaning, remember? I knew the ritual, I knew what I needed to say, and I knew what the words I was using would do when the ritual completed."
"You should attend his lecture course," Bob said meanly, "The remedial students we taught last year found it very illuminating, and our new students do as well."
Mai snarled and stomped off. Murphy shook her head at Bob, who gave her his best bland look.
"Shall we depart for cleaner locale?" Bob waved his hand and Harry grinned as the dog thing got up, trotting back the way Harry and Murphy had walked. Morgan and the stranger had already disappeared as well, so Harry waved a hand after Murphy.
"wovmoHwI'," he announced and his ball of light reappeared, floating ahead of them. Murphy laughed and Bob scolded him as they walked.
"What are you going to call the new member of the household?" Murphy asked as she climbed up the short ladder to street level, leaving Harry to look at the dog for a moment. It's muscles bunched and it leapt up after her, paws catching the ladder for a second to boost it out of the hole. Bob used the distraction to materialise up on the street, enjoying the startled scream Kirmani let off at the sudden appearance of the behemoth, who appeared to flow up out of the ground behind Murphy. Harry popped up out of the manhole and discretely closed it with his telekinesis.
"Well, he's so meek and mild," he told Murphy as Kirmani clutched his chest in shock and staggered back, glad the man wasn't going for his gun. Harry would not have allowed that, "And we already have a cat. So… Mouse?"
Bob started swearing at him, but the dog reacted favourably, coming back to sit beside Harry, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging in apparent laughter. Murphy laughed as well, which was a win as far as Harry was concerned.
A week later Bob paused his lecture for a moment as Mouse strolled past the open library door, with Mister sitting up on top of the dogs hips, his tail curled in the air behind him, completely unconcerned.
Note – yes I know Mouse is from the books, but I couldn't help it, I'm a dog person.
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