The Dresden Files / Bob / 44. Endanger
Title: Spare the Rod
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, young Harry, Justin Morningway
Prompt: 44. Endanger
Word Count: 1,063
Rating: PG
Summary: An intervention
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Although Harry was hardly the most astute student entrusted to his care, Bob had to admit that the boy showed great promise. What Harry lacked in finesse he more than made up for in raw power and a talent for solving problems from an unexpected angle. Justin Morningway, however, was far from pleased with his nephew's unconventional and often cavalier approach to his studies. A man of order and meticulous planning in all things, it angered him to find his intended protégé resorting to 'sloppy' spells and 'quick fix' potions. Morningway did not understand as Bob did that an unprecedented and unanticipated approach to magic might take a foe unawares and one day preserve Harry's life. And wasn't that the point? To teach the boy how to be comfortable with himself and his magic in order to survive the challenges that awaited him?
"I don't care what you planned or who you promised," snapped Justin. "You are my ward and my responsibility. While you live under this roof and in my care, you will do as I think best. No questions. No arguments."
"But you don't understand!" exclaimed Harry in frustration. "It's the semifinal! If we win this game we'll make it into the regional championship for the first time in twelve years!"
"Ice hockey is not a skill that will help you gain a seat on the High Council."
"FUCK the High Council! I don't WANT to be on the STUPID High Council!" The teenager stormed past his Uncle and snatched up the hockey stick resting against the ornate wooden desk. "The team is counting on me and I'm not letting them down!"
Morningway's thick fingers tightened reflexively on the silvered handle of his cane as if they'd like nothing better than to lift the instrument and strike the youth. Instead, the older wizard warned in a cold, deceptively calm voice, "You will stay and you will complete today's lesson." The air around him began to vibrate with energy. "If you accomplish today's task to my satisfaction, then you may go to your childish event. But NOT before!"
Harry turned to face his Uncle. "Or what?" he demanded. Magical energy, red and angry, began to thrum throughout the room. "You'll send me to bed without dinner? You'll ground me?" Books began to shudder on their shelves as the lights dimmed and flickered. "You'll spank me?"
"Harry!" A flash of orange and black flame suddenly swirled between the two wizards. Bob materialized with his back to Morningway, focusing his full attention on his recalcitrant student. In an imperious voice, he snapped, "Your behavior is inexcusable! Your Uncle is your kin and your benefactor. You will apologize to him at once!"
The ghost's expression, however, did not fit the severity of his tone. Instead of condescension and disdain to accompany his words, he implored Harry for restraint with expressive eyes.
Please, Harry! Control yourself. Don't do this! If the boy forced a confrontation with his Uncle now there could be absolutely no doubt of the outcome. Morningway would not permit insubordination or teenage rebellion. He would break the boy; perhaps irreparably.
Harry looked as if he'd been slapped. "But Bob! You don't understand-!"
"I understand disrespect and childish behavior. I thought you were above such things. Was I wrong to do so?"
"No, but-"
Bob pointed a pale finger at Morningway. "Then apologize. This instant! And accept your responsibilities like the young wizard that you are. Like the young man that you are!"
Harry's countenance darkened as he glowered at the ghost. Perhaps Julius Caesar had worn such a face when confronting Brutus moments before his betrayal. In the wake of that expression, Bob felt as if a particularly sharp thorn had been thrust into his spectral heart.
Still gripping his hockey stick, Harry looked beyond the ghost, effectively dismissing him. "I'm sorry, Uncle Justin," he said grudgingly. The words came like painfully extracted teeth. "I was wrong."
"Yes, you were," agreed Morningway curtly. "But," he continued magnanimously, "I'm not completely heartless, Harry, in spite of what you might think. And I'm not so old that I've totally forgotten what it was like to be a teenager." Or that it was easier to ensnare flies with honey than with vinegar. "Since it clearly means so much to you, alright. You may go to your hockey game."
Now that was unexpected! "I can? Really?"
"Really. But!" warned Morningway as he wagged his finger at his nephew, "You'll have a double lesson tomorrow and I expect to see results. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" With a whoop, Harry turned and ran out of the study before his Uncle could change his mind.
"I believe that is what they call 'good cop, bad cop,'" Morningway chuckled. "An impressive bit of manipulation. Well done, ghost."
As Morningway strode from the room, Bob could literally feel the dangerous swirl of magical forces ebbing away like a tide going out to sea. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and bowed his head as if in silent thanks to some invisible power. Bob shuddered to think what might have happened if the confrontation had escalated to the point of magical blows.
'Good cop, bad cop' indeed, he thought darkly.
Bob cared little for Morningway's approval. His single intent had been to prevent Harry from taking a path in anger that he would undoubtedly regret. Alas, instead of a sense of accomplishment at his success, all the ghost felt was the sharp prick of that emotional thorn within his heart, embedded by Harry's silent accusation.
The boy had left without so much as glance for his ghostly mentor.
There is no fool quite like a dead and damned fool, Bob thought sadly as he began to fade away.
"Hey, Bob! Hang on a sec, will ya?"
Surprised, the ghost turned toward Harry's voice. The teenager stood in the doorway, now attired in a leather jacket displaying his team colors and carrying a pair of ice skates slung by the laces over one narrow shoulder.
"I know that must've been hard for you," said Harry awkwardly. "But I get it. Really." He lifted the hockey stick in a mock salute and smiled. "Thanks for stopping me from being a total idiot."
Bob returned the smile as he felt the thorn dissolve into something else entirely.
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, young Harry, Justin Morningway
Prompt: 44. Endanger
Word Count: 1,063
Rating: PG
Summary: An intervention
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Although Harry was hardly the most astute student entrusted to his care, Bob had to admit that the boy showed great promise. What Harry lacked in finesse he more than made up for in raw power and a talent for solving problems from an unexpected angle. Justin Morningway, however, was far from pleased with his nephew's unconventional and often cavalier approach to his studies. A man of order and meticulous planning in all things, it angered him to find his intended protégé resorting to 'sloppy' spells and 'quick fix' potions. Morningway did not understand as Bob did that an unprecedented and unanticipated approach to magic might take a foe unawares and one day preserve Harry's life. And wasn't that the point? To teach the boy how to be comfortable with himself and his magic in order to survive the challenges that awaited him?
"I don't care what you planned or who you promised," snapped Justin. "You are my ward and my responsibility. While you live under this roof and in my care, you will do as I think best. No questions. No arguments."
"But you don't understand!" exclaimed Harry in frustration. "It's the semifinal! If we win this game we'll make it into the regional championship for the first time in twelve years!"
"Ice hockey is not a skill that will help you gain a seat on the High Council."
"FUCK the High Council! I don't WANT to be on the STUPID High Council!" The teenager stormed past his Uncle and snatched up the hockey stick resting against the ornate wooden desk. "The team is counting on me and I'm not letting them down!"
Morningway's thick fingers tightened reflexively on the silvered handle of his cane as if they'd like nothing better than to lift the instrument and strike the youth. Instead, the older wizard warned in a cold, deceptively calm voice, "You will stay and you will complete today's lesson." The air around him began to vibrate with energy. "If you accomplish today's task to my satisfaction, then you may go to your childish event. But NOT before!"
Harry turned to face his Uncle. "Or what?" he demanded. Magical energy, red and angry, began to thrum throughout the room. "You'll send me to bed without dinner? You'll ground me?" Books began to shudder on their shelves as the lights dimmed and flickered. "You'll spank me?"
"Harry!" A flash of orange and black flame suddenly swirled between the two wizards. Bob materialized with his back to Morningway, focusing his full attention on his recalcitrant student. In an imperious voice, he snapped, "Your behavior is inexcusable! Your Uncle is your kin and your benefactor. You will apologize to him at once!"
The ghost's expression, however, did not fit the severity of his tone. Instead of condescension and disdain to accompany his words, he implored Harry for restraint with expressive eyes.
Please, Harry! Control yourself. Don't do this! If the boy forced a confrontation with his Uncle now there could be absolutely no doubt of the outcome. Morningway would not permit insubordination or teenage rebellion. He would break the boy; perhaps irreparably.
Harry looked as if he'd been slapped. "But Bob! You don't understand-!"
"I understand disrespect and childish behavior. I thought you were above such things. Was I wrong to do so?"
"No, but-"
Bob pointed a pale finger at Morningway. "Then apologize. This instant! And accept your responsibilities like the young wizard that you are. Like the young man that you are!"
Harry's countenance darkened as he glowered at the ghost. Perhaps Julius Caesar had worn such a face when confronting Brutus moments before his betrayal. In the wake of that expression, Bob felt as if a particularly sharp thorn had been thrust into his spectral heart.
Still gripping his hockey stick, Harry looked beyond the ghost, effectively dismissing him. "I'm sorry, Uncle Justin," he said grudgingly. The words came like painfully extracted teeth. "I was wrong."
"Yes, you were," agreed Morningway curtly. "But," he continued magnanimously, "I'm not completely heartless, Harry, in spite of what you might think. And I'm not so old that I've totally forgotten what it was like to be a teenager." Or that it was easier to ensnare flies with honey than with vinegar. "Since it clearly means so much to you, alright. You may go to your hockey game."
Now that was unexpected! "I can? Really?"
"Really. But!" warned Morningway as he wagged his finger at his nephew, "You'll have a double lesson tomorrow and I expect to see results. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" With a whoop, Harry turned and ran out of the study before his Uncle could change his mind.
"I believe that is what they call 'good cop, bad cop,'" Morningway chuckled. "An impressive bit of manipulation. Well done, ghost."
As Morningway strode from the room, Bob could literally feel the dangerous swirl of magical forces ebbing away like a tide going out to sea. With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and bowed his head as if in silent thanks to some invisible power. Bob shuddered to think what might have happened if the confrontation had escalated to the point of magical blows.
'Good cop, bad cop' indeed, he thought darkly.
Bob cared little for Morningway's approval. His single intent had been to prevent Harry from taking a path in anger that he would undoubtedly regret. Alas, instead of a sense of accomplishment at his success, all the ghost felt was the sharp prick of that emotional thorn within his heart, embedded by Harry's silent accusation.
The boy had left without so much as glance for his ghostly mentor.
There is no fool quite like a dead and damned fool, Bob thought sadly as he began to fade away.
"Hey, Bob! Hang on a sec, will ya?"
Surprised, the ghost turned toward Harry's voice. The teenager stood in the doorway, now attired in a leather jacket displaying his team colors and carrying a pair of ice skates slung by the laces over one narrow shoulder.
"I know that must've been hard for you," said Harry awkwardly. "But I get it. Really." He lifted the hockey stick in a mock salute and smiled. "Thanks for stopping me from being a total idiot."
Bob returned the smile as he felt the thorn dissolve into something else entirely.