The Dresden Files / Bob / #17. Weakness
Title: Knight's Progress
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Justin Morningway, young Harry, Bob
Prompt: 17. Weakness
Word Count: 1,601
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to Knight Errant
Notes: Because Meneleth asked what happened next.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The minute Harry walked up the garden path and saw the black Mercedes in the driveway he knew he was in trouble. Nothing less could bring Uncle Justin home early from the city and his tight schedule of business meetings. For a fleeting second, Harry considered turning around and heading back to school. He could say that he'd stayed late to study. No; his uncle would never believe that. Detention, then? Better…
In the end, he decided against both. Why delay the inevitable?
Harry opened the front door slowly, praying that the hinges wouldn't squeak and give him away. Peeking through the opening, he found the foyer deserted and breathed a little sigh of relief. So far so good! Tiptoeing inside, he briefly turned to make certain the door closed and latched without making a sound. As he did, the air around him became suddenly oppressive, raising the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck.
Oh shit, he thought and slowly turned around.
Justin Morningway stood at the far end of the hallway next to study's open door, his expression as dark and angry as a storm cloud.
"Come here," said his uncle without preamble, his tone cold and commanding.
Setting his books down on the nearest surface, Harry obediently but cautiously did as he was told.
"Yes, sir?" he said politely, taking care not to meet his uncle's gaze. From the corner of his eye he could see a tall, pale figure standing like a shadow just beyond the doorway.
"What did I tell you about showing your magic to the mundanes?"
"You said not to," replied Harry. "So I haven't."
"Not even once?"
"No, sir."
Justin reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small glass bottle. Made of brown glass, it was one of those miniature cocktails so frequently served on airlines and trains. The label had been removed but it's shape was distinctive enough to tell anyone familiar with such things that the contents were alcoholic.
"What do you call this?"
"A bottle?" asked Harry helpfully.
Justin removed the cap and extended it to him. "Drink it."
Instinctively, Harry took a step backward. The reaction turned his uncle's glower even darker.
"That's what I thought." Justin tipped the bottle upside down to show that it was empty before replacing the cap. "I am extremely disappointed in you, Harry. You've used magic against my wishes and you've lied."
"But that's not magic!" Harry blurted. "That's just a potion. It's not the same."
"It is exactly the same! Any first year magic student knows that." Justin shot a withering glare at the ghost standing impassively in the doorway. "A potion needs a wizard's energy to make it effective. Otherwise, it's just a random collection of meaningless ingredients." He shook the bottle at Harry. "And tricking a mundane into using a potion is worse than a spell or an incantation because it leaves evidence behind!"
"I didn't thank anyone would-"
"Exactly! You didn't think!" snapped Justin. "When those two boys were rushed to the hospital, did it ever occur to you that someone might have found this and tried to analyze the contents?"
"What? Why? It wasn't poisonous!" protested Harry. "It was just supposed to make them break out in hives and go nuts scratching themselves, not kill them or anything! I just wanted to teach them a lesson for bullying that kid."
"Short of a confession, there's no way for the police to know that." Justin brandished the incriminating evidence. "But with this, they might have done more than suspect attempted murder. They might have gotten a hint of something they'd never encountered before. Sorcery."
"But I was trying to help someone," said Harry defensively. "That's not wrong, is it?"
Justin's fingers tightened on the container. He wanted to lash out at the boy for defying him with this egregious conduct but reined himself back, albeit with difficulty. If he was ever going to sway Harry to his will and his way of thinking, he would have to maintain the façade of a loving, caring uncle.
"No, it's not wrong, but it's a weakness you can't afford. You're young yet, Harry, and still have a lot to learn about the ways of the world. You can't crusade against every single injustice. You have to pick your battles and your methods judiciously. Something as small as a potion bottle can be your undoing, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you get it?"
"Get what?"
"Don't be dense. I'm not in the mood for it. Where did you get it?"
"I made it-"
"At my direction and insistence," interrupted Bob, stepping into the conversation at last. "The formula was my own."
"Yours?" demanded Justin.
"Yes."
"Whose idea was it to create an itching potion in the first place?"
"Mine!," said Harry and Bob in perfect harmony.
Struggling to control his rising anger, Justin's fingers now held the bottle so tightly that they nearly shone bloodless white. "The truth, Ghost," he demanded. "Or the consequences."
Before Harry could interject, Bob replied crisply, "The idea and the potion were entirely my doing."
"You put him up to it, then?"
"I asked him to!" exclaimed Harry.
"He did nothing of the sort," countered the ghost. "I take full responsibility."
"You used Harry."
"Completely."
"Wait! No he didn't!" insisted Harry. "It was-"
"That's enough! You are to go to your room!" Justin did not bother to look at his nephew; his full attention was on the ghost.
"What are you going to do?" Harry quickly moved to put himself between the two men, forcing his uncle to look at him. "Whatever Bob did, it was because I asked him to!"
"Harry…" warned Bob with a quick shake of his head.
"I … I ordered him to!"
"I will not tell you again," said Justin with deadly calm. "Go. To. Your. Room."
Harry looked imploringly at Bob but the ghost studiously ignored him, his gaze fixed upon his irate Master. Reluctantly, Harry turned and slowly trudged away.
Justin waited until the boy was out of sight and earshot. He could sense Harry as he made his way through the house. A slight push of energy, seeking, satisfied him that Harry had actually obeyed and gone straight to his room.
"I don't know what game you're playing, Ghost," said Justin in a coldly dangerous voice, "But you're destined to fail. Harry's power won't be able to free you. Only I have the secret to making you mortal. Remember that!" He took a step closer, dark eyes glittering with malice. "And remember this; the boy is my protégé, not yours."
"Why not teach him yourself, then?"
"Because I don't have your knowledge or your experience, as you well know. So you will continue as Harry's tutor," said Justin somewhat grudgingly. "But since I can't monitor all of your lessons together, I think it's time that I reasserted my authority."
Justin focused his will and uttered an ancient Word of Power. In response, the rune-inscribed manacles that circled the ghost's wrists flared with oily black light, sending a shock of pain through his essence.
Bob bit back a cry and struggled to remain stoic.
"You will do as I command, Ghost. You answer to no one else."
Another agonizing flair of pain earned a wince but still Bob uttered no sound. He would not give Justin Morningway the satisfaction. He had suffered this pain before and by far worse masters. Just as he would suffer it again; eternally. And endure. As was his fate.
It would not deter him or his resolve to save Harry from his uncle's plans.
~ ~ ~
Harry crept across the room on bare feet, catching his breath as a board suddenly groaned beneath his step. He froze, listening to the heavy silence, then gave a little sigh of relief when he was not met by a shout of discovery. He continued his stealthy progress until he came to his uncle's antique desk and the skull that occupied one corner.
Bending down, he peered into the dark, bony eye sockets. "Bob?" he urgently whispered.
"Yes?" replied a voice from directly behind him.
Heart pounding, Harry gasped and turned. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry." The barest hint of a smile said that Bob wasn't anything of the sort. "It is late. Not only should you be in bed, but your uncle has not released you from your punishment. It would not go well for you if he found you outside of your room."
"I'll go right back, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I am dead, Harry. I don't believe that is a synonym for 'okay'."
"Come on, Bob. No fooling. I'm serious."
Bob relented. "I am well, thank you."
From Harry's expression, it was clear that he didn't quite believe Bob but he didn't push. "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble. This is all my fault. I should have gone back and picked up the bottle but I didn't think anyone would notice it, you know?"
"I know."
"Maybe Uncle Justin's right. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
"You did what your heart told you to do and succeeded in preventing two cretins from preying upon the defenseless," said Bob with undisguised pride. "As I have observed before, it is not in your nature to ignore someone in need. That is not a weakness, Harry, no matter what your uncle believes."
"But what if it happens again?"
Bob shrugged. "Try your best not to get caught," he said pragmatically.
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Justin Morningway, young Harry, Bob
Prompt: 17. Weakness
Word Count: 1,601
Rating: PG
Summary: Sequel to Knight Errant
Notes: Because Meneleth asked what happened next.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The minute Harry walked up the garden path and saw the black Mercedes in the driveway he knew he was in trouble. Nothing less could bring Uncle Justin home early from the city and his tight schedule of business meetings. For a fleeting second, Harry considered turning around and heading back to school. He could say that he'd stayed late to study. No; his uncle would never believe that. Detention, then? Better…
In the end, he decided against both. Why delay the inevitable?
Harry opened the front door slowly, praying that the hinges wouldn't squeak and give him away. Peeking through the opening, he found the foyer deserted and breathed a little sigh of relief. So far so good! Tiptoeing inside, he briefly turned to make certain the door closed and latched without making a sound. As he did, the air around him became suddenly oppressive, raising the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck.
Oh shit, he thought and slowly turned around.
Justin Morningway stood at the far end of the hallway next to study's open door, his expression as dark and angry as a storm cloud.
"Come here," said his uncle without preamble, his tone cold and commanding.
Setting his books down on the nearest surface, Harry obediently but cautiously did as he was told.
"Yes, sir?" he said politely, taking care not to meet his uncle's gaze. From the corner of his eye he could see a tall, pale figure standing like a shadow just beyond the doorway.
"What did I tell you about showing your magic to the mundanes?"
"You said not to," replied Harry. "So I haven't."
"Not even once?"
"No, sir."
Justin reached into the pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small glass bottle. Made of brown glass, it was one of those miniature cocktails so frequently served on airlines and trains. The label had been removed but it's shape was distinctive enough to tell anyone familiar with such things that the contents were alcoholic.
"What do you call this?"
"A bottle?" asked Harry helpfully.
Justin removed the cap and extended it to him. "Drink it."
Instinctively, Harry took a step backward. The reaction turned his uncle's glower even darker.
"That's what I thought." Justin tipped the bottle upside down to show that it was empty before replacing the cap. "I am extremely disappointed in you, Harry. You've used magic against my wishes and you've lied."
"But that's not magic!" Harry blurted. "That's just a potion. It's not the same."
"It is exactly the same! Any first year magic student knows that." Justin shot a withering glare at the ghost standing impassively in the doorway. "A potion needs a wizard's energy to make it effective. Otherwise, it's just a random collection of meaningless ingredients." He shook the bottle at Harry. "And tricking a mundane into using a potion is worse than a spell or an incantation because it leaves evidence behind!"
"I didn't thank anyone would-"
"Exactly! You didn't think!" snapped Justin. "When those two boys were rushed to the hospital, did it ever occur to you that someone might have found this and tried to analyze the contents?"
"What? Why? It wasn't poisonous!" protested Harry. "It was just supposed to make them break out in hives and go nuts scratching themselves, not kill them or anything! I just wanted to teach them a lesson for bullying that kid."
"Short of a confession, there's no way for the police to know that." Justin brandished the incriminating evidence. "But with this, they might have done more than suspect attempted murder. They might have gotten a hint of something they'd never encountered before. Sorcery."
"But I was trying to help someone," said Harry defensively. "That's not wrong, is it?"
Justin's fingers tightened on the container. He wanted to lash out at the boy for defying him with this egregious conduct but reined himself back, albeit with difficulty. If he was ever going to sway Harry to his will and his way of thinking, he would have to maintain the façade of a loving, caring uncle.
"No, it's not wrong, but it's a weakness you can't afford. You're young yet, Harry, and still have a lot to learn about the ways of the world. You can't crusade against every single injustice. You have to pick your battles and your methods judiciously. Something as small as a potion bottle can be your undoing, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you get it?"
"Get what?"
"Don't be dense. I'm not in the mood for it. Where did you get it?"
"I made it-"
"At my direction and insistence," interrupted Bob, stepping into the conversation at last. "The formula was my own."
"Yours?" demanded Justin.
"Yes."
"Whose idea was it to create an itching potion in the first place?"
"Mine!," said Harry and Bob in perfect harmony.
Struggling to control his rising anger, Justin's fingers now held the bottle so tightly that they nearly shone bloodless white. "The truth, Ghost," he demanded. "Or the consequences."
Before Harry could interject, Bob replied crisply, "The idea and the potion were entirely my doing."
"You put him up to it, then?"
"I asked him to!" exclaimed Harry.
"He did nothing of the sort," countered the ghost. "I take full responsibility."
"You used Harry."
"Completely."
"Wait! No he didn't!" insisted Harry. "It was-"
"That's enough! You are to go to your room!" Justin did not bother to look at his nephew; his full attention was on the ghost.
"What are you going to do?" Harry quickly moved to put himself between the two men, forcing his uncle to look at him. "Whatever Bob did, it was because I asked him to!"
"Harry…" warned Bob with a quick shake of his head.
"I … I ordered him to!"
"I will not tell you again," said Justin with deadly calm. "Go. To. Your. Room."
Harry looked imploringly at Bob but the ghost studiously ignored him, his gaze fixed upon his irate Master. Reluctantly, Harry turned and slowly trudged away.
Justin waited until the boy was out of sight and earshot. He could sense Harry as he made his way through the house. A slight push of energy, seeking, satisfied him that Harry had actually obeyed and gone straight to his room.
"I don't know what game you're playing, Ghost," said Justin in a coldly dangerous voice, "But you're destined to fail. Harry's power won't be able to free you. Only I have the secret to making you mortal. Remember that!" He took a step closer, dark eyes glittering with malice. "And remember this; the boy is my protégé, not yours."
"Why not teach him yourself, then?"
"Because I don't have your knowledge or your experience, as you well know. So you will continue as Harry's tutor," said Justin somewhat grudgingly. "But since I can't monitor all of your lessons together, I think it's time that I reasserted my authority."
Justin focused his will and uttered an ancient Word of Power. In response, the rune-inscribed manacles that circled the ghost's wrists flared with oily black light, sending a shock of pain through his essence.
Bob bit back a cry and struggled to remain stoic.
"You will do as I command, Ghost. You answer to no one else."
Another agonizing flair of pain earned a wince but still Bob uttered no sound. He would not give Justin Morningway the satisfaction. He had suffered this pain before and by far worse masters. Just as he would suffer it again; eternally. And endure. As was his fate.
It would not deter him or his resolve to save Harry from his uncle's plans.
~ ~ ~
Harry crept across the room on bare feet, catching his breath as a board suddenly groaned beneath his step. He froze, listening to the heavy silence, then gave a little sigh of relief when he was not met by a shout of discovery. He continued his stealthy progress until he came to his uncle's antique desk and the skull that occupied one corner.
Bending down, he peered into the dark, bony eye sockets. "Bob?" he urgently whispered.
"Yes?" replied a voice from directly behind him.
Heart pounding, Harry gasped and turned. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry." The barest hint of a smile said that Bob wasn't anything of the sort. "It is late. Not only should you be in bed, but your uncle has not released you from your punishment. It would not go well for you if he found you outside of your room."
"I'll go right back, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I am dead, Harry. I don't believe that is a synonym for 'okay'."
"Come on, Bob. No fooling. I'm serious."
Bob relented. "I am well, thank you."
From Harry's expression, it was clear that he didn't quite believe Bob but he didn't push. "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble. This is all my fault. I should have gone back and picked up the bottle but I didn't think anyone would notice it, you know?"
"I know."
"Maybe Uncle Justin's right. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
"You did what your heart told you to do and succeeded in preventing two cretins from preying upon the defenseless," said Bob with undisguised pride. "As I have observed before, it is not in your nature to ignore someone in need. That is not a weakness, Harry, no matter what your uncle believes."
"But what if it happens again?"
Bob shrugged. "Try your best not to get caught," he said pragmatically.