The Trouble with Drakes ch 4
Title: The Trouble With Drakes chapter 4
Author: stormyd55
Rating: PG...sorry, no smut.
Pairing: Bob/Harry... well, preslash (may they make like horny bunnies for all time)
Book/TV-Verse: TV
Warnings: I'm borrowing Lorne from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: Not mine! But, oh how I wish they were (evil chuckle).
Word Count: approx. 5400
Summary: Harry goes to a karaoke bar and meets a very unusal person. Mister indulges in 'skull sitting'. And later, Bob teaches his first lesson.
Author's Note: I'm borrowing a character from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You all know Lorne. Lorne can't help but be drawn to Hero-types. And, hey, Harry's a hero. Oh, I do love crossing worlds. As for Bob's history lesson, I got a lot of information from an actual history book. Yes, I actually try to do real research on ocassion.
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3
Title: The Trouble With Drakes 4
Author: stormyd55
Rating: PG...sorry, no smut.
Pairing: Bob/Harry... well, preslash (may they make like horny bunnies for all time)
Book/TV-Verse: TV
Warnings: I'm borrowing Lorne from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: Not mine! But, oh how I wish they were (evil chuckle).
Word Count: approx. 5400
Summary: Harry goes to a karaoke bar and meets a very unusal person. Mister indulges in 'skull sitting'. And later, Bob teaches his first lesson.
Author's Note: I'm borrowing a character from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You all know Lorne. Lorne can't help but be drawn to Hero-types. And, hey, Harry's a hero. Oh, I do love crossing worlds. As for Bob's history lesson, I got a lot of information from an actual history book. Yes, I actually try to do real research on ocassion.
*******
Harry tried to act casual as he approached the alley. There were two 'people' standing near the mouth of the alley, talking. One appeared to be a human woman, while the other was without a doubt a Lochsri demon. With a head resembling a cuddlefish, it was hard to mistake it for anything else. Harry wasn't particularly worried about it. Lochsri demons were mostly neutral and usually more interested in selling you something rather than hurting you.
Nervously, he made his way to the brightly lit doorway and went inside. He let his eyes adjust to the normal nightclub gloom and tried not to let his jaw drop to the floor. The variety of demons was phenomenal. He couldn't even identify more than half of them. And at least twenty percent of the clientele were human. A few might have been vampires, but most were human.
"Well, hello there. Welcome to Caritas. I'm Lorne, the Host."
Harry found himself staring at a tall, green demon with red eyes and red horns. He was dressed in a tailored cream colored linen suit with a matching cream colored silk tie cascading down the front of his bright red silk shirt. He was holding a tumbler containing what looked like an alchoholic beverage and was waving it around expressively as he spoke. But what really threw Harry was the guy's brilliant and totally charming smile.
"Uh, Caritas. That means 'mercy', doesn't it?"
If at all possible, that smile got even brighter. "Why, yes it does, tall, dark and cute as a button. You know, if my porch swing went that way, I'd be all over you."
Harry froze. He honestly didn't know whether to be flattered or to run home screaming. Come on! The guy's a demon. For all Harry knew, 'be all over you' meant with a knife, fork and a whole lot of ketchup. Although, he didn't get any of those nasty run-for-your-life vibes from Lorne. And he usually had good instincts about everything except women and romance. Then he realized that Lorne had continued talking. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I said you should sign up for some mike time.", indicating the stage. "You look like you could use a reading. It's a little busy tonight, but I'm sure I could squeeze you in."
Now Harry was really confused. "What do you mean 'a reading'?"
"You don't know? But, of course, you're a newbie. Ok, cupcake, in a nutshell, I'm an empath demon. When I hear a person sing, I see their destiny, a bit of their future, maybe a bit of their past. Whatever the Powers That Be decide to show me. I help people find the path they're meant to be on, maybe help them solve some of their problems. My guess is you've got romance troubles. Am I right?" He spoke in a singsong rhythmn as if any moment he'd burst into an actual song.
"Everybody's got romance troubles." Harry replied wryly.
"HAH! You ain't kiddin'. Between Slayers and vampires falling in love and some guy trying to stop time and freeze the world just so his girlfriend won't leave, romance is taking a real kick in the teeth." Lorne's face took on a knowing and sympathetic look. "Not that everybody else's problems are unimportant or that, with a little guidance, they can't be fixed. What d'ya say? It couldn't hurt.", he coaxed, again indicating the stage.
"I'll pass, thanks. What I really need is information. My name's Harry Dresden and..."
"Harry Dresden! The Wizard? The one in the phonebook?" Lorne laughed. "Oh, I bet you've got a lot more problems than just romance. Between legitimate, supernatural bad-asses," pointing at the crowd around them, "and just plain, crazy nut-jobs, I'll bet your life is one big, sloppy mess."
Harry's eyes narrowed and he decided that it was time to change the subject. "Speaking of supernatural, would you mind telling me what the magic and spells I'm sensing around us are for?"
"You can sense that? Oooo, you're good. But, not to worry, they're antiviolence spells. Caritas is a haven," he swept his arm in a wide arc, as if showing off his pride and joy, "a sanctuary, if you will. I don't allow violence of any kind from or against demon or human. So don't be thinking about causing any trouble.", he added good naturedly, shaking his finger under Harry's nose.
Harry thought about that for a second, it'd be nice to have a safe place to run to if he needed it. "Ok. I can live with that. But why haven't I heard of this place before?"
"Ahh, well, I just opened up here in Chicago. I had a club for a few years in Los Angelos, but my friends kept driving cars into it and blowing it up. And then I had to go and help them piss off Wolfram and Hart... it was just safer for me to leave town and start fresh. So here I am in Chicago."
Gee, Harry thought, with friends like that, who needs enemies.
"And what exactly are your intentions here in Chicago? You see, this is my town. I'm a little protective of it."
Lorne held up both hands, "Whoa. Take it easy. I don't want any trouble with anybody. Especially the local hero types. That was my problem in L.A." He looked a little sheepish. "I kept getting involved with Angel and his little hero crusades. I should have just minded my own business. But, Nooo! I have to go help save the world and in the process lose my business, watch my friends die and end up running for my life. No! No more hero stuff for me. No sirree." He tried to look adamant but failed entirely.
Harry was beginning to see an opportunity here. With access to so many supernatural entities, Lorne could be a prime source of information. But he knew better than to broach the subject right now. Forewarned, Lorne would probably just dig his heels in and totally resist ever helping Harry. Best to take it slow and just act friendly for right now. "Well, as long as you're not out to start any trouble, I have no problem with you. However, I've got a friend who might. She's a cop with Chicago's Special Investigations unit. They handle anything weird like strange deaths. And, in this town, strange usually means magic, werewolves, vampires, demons, etc. Most of them don't believe in that stuff, but that doesn't stop the Chicago PD from barging into questionable situations like this place. She's gonna want to know where all these 'interesting people' came from. Did they follow you here from L.A.? And, even if you aren't looking for trouble, are they?" Harry paused as he looked around. "I recognize a few of these demon races. Most are fairly benign, but a few can be considered more than a little dangerous. What do I tell her about them?"
Lorne sighed dramatically, "Ok, I can see your point. But, I assure you, they did not follow me from L.A. They were already here in Chicago. And, if they haven't caused you any serious problems before now, I doubt they'll start just because I've opened up a bar that caters to they're kind. Which, by the way is not the only one that does. There are at least three bars in this town that serve non-humans and they've been here for years. Have you checked them out?"
"I assume one of those belongs to Bianca. I've known her for years and I know how she does business. She knows not to cross the line or she'll have to deal with me, or worse, the wardens. I'm not familiar with the others. If you'll give me their addresses, I'll check them out as well." Harry smiled, "After all, I wouldn't want you to feel like I was picking on you."
"Now why would I feel that?" Lorne grumbled sarcastically. He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and pen. He quickly wrote down the requested information and handed the sheet to Harry. "Just don't tell anyone that I sent you. Oh, the one near the docks is in the sub-basement of that abandoned warehouse. Be careful, they don't cater to humans at all. In fact, depending on whose there that night, if you're caught, you could end up on the menu." He said this last bit with a rather wicked smile, then turned and walked away, effectively ending the conversation.
Harry looked around the club for a few minutes, assessing the damage all these demons could do in Chicago. But if Lorne was right and these 'people' had already been here,... well, they hadn't done anything yet to show up on the radar. He knew from personal experience what it was like to be seen as the guilty bad guy every time something bad happened. He was always having to 'prove he didn't do it' to Morgan and Mai. So, he wasn't about to start picking fights with these 'people' just because they belonged to demon races with bad reputations.
He looked at the addresses on the paper Lorne had given him. It could be a trap but something told him that he could trust Lorne. He thought about it and decided that he might as well check them out that night and get it over with. He left quickly, before Lorne came back and tried to talk him into singing again.
*****
Harry was not happy when he got home that night. One of the bars that Lorne had told him about was passive enough. It catered to both demon and human clientele and seemed to be a fairly nice jazz club. He wouldn't want to become a regular customer, but he didn't get any bad vibes from the place. The owner was a human who had stumbled onto the existence of a demon society in Chicago and, being a man of vision, saw an opportunity to provide a safe place for them to gather and socialize for the small price of a cover charge and a two drink minimum. Nice guy really.
The other bar was a different story altogether. Keeping Lorne's warning in mind, Harry had used a veil to hide his presence. Bob had recently taught it to him and he wasn't very good at it, but that night, it seemed to work ok (Until a large demon with an absolutely huge snout came in and seemed to be sniffing him out. Fortunately, he was ready to leave by then, which he did with great haste.). The place had about a dozen of the worst demon races he knew of, plus a few that he didn't recognize but had a stong feeling that dangerous didn't even come close to describing them. He decided on his way home that this was one situation that he was not equipped to handle.
The first thing he did when he got home was call Morgan. After apologizing for calling so late, he told him about the bar full of dangerous demons under the warehouse, gave him a list of the ones he recognized and a description of those he didn't. At first, Morgan just seemed irritated, but, by the end of the conversation, he seemed rather concerned. He told Harry that, with the Drake problem, he couldn't spare the resources to deal with the situation right now, but that he would put the place under surveilance. And next time Harry felt the need to bring something to Morgan's attention, wait 'til morning, damn it.
Harry hung up the phone, feeling better despite Morgan's complaint. Bob had showed up during his conversation with Morgan. He had expressed relief that Harry had, for once, shown some sense and left the demon situation to Morgan and his warden's. When Harry had told him about the rest of his night, he seemed intrigued by Lorne and his ability to 'read' people and their destinies. He returned to his skull when Harry told him he was going to shower and go to bed.
Harry went into the kitchen to feed Mister and cursed when he realized that he was out of cat food. He opened a can of tuna he'd planned to have for lunch the next day and decided to get up early the next morning to run to the grocery store for cat food before opening the shop.
He grabbed Bob's skull as he headed for the stairs leading to his bedroom. Ever since the Tara incident, he'd made it a habit to keep Bob's skull on his night stand when he went to bed. Bob didn't seem to mind and he would always bring the skull back to the front room when he got up each morning. He just... felt better having Bob close. Of course, that meant that he had to confine his 'jerk off' sessions to the bathroom, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Harry got a fresh t-shirt and boxers and went into the bathroom. He showered quickly, wanting to rid himself of any lingering stench acquired at that last demon bar. Once he was finished, he returned to the bedroom and practically fell onto the bed. He was asleep before he could pull the covers over himself.
*****
Early the next morning, Harry struggled to get through his door without dropping the grocery bags he was carrying. As he'd planned the previous night, he'd gotten up early to run out and get Mister some cat food. Once there, as usual, he'd run in to get one item and had come out with thirty.
He carried the bags into the kitchen just as he heard "Dresden! Will you come do something with this beast!"
Harry knew that the wards were fine, so he assumed that the 'beast' Bob was referring to was, as usual, Mister. Curious, he followed Bob's voice into the front room. Then he froze in amused shock.
Bob was standing by a table, bent at the waist, staring into Mister's face. The cat had decided that Bob's skull would make a fine perch. However, being at least thirty pounds, he could only drape the front half of his body over the crown of the skull. His front paws were approximately where Bob's eyebrows would have been and were clenching and unclenching, as cats do when they are extremely content and happy.
Bob, however, was not content and happy. He suddenly lunged forward and hissed in Mister's face. This only resulted in the cat beginning to purr,... rather loudly.
And that, of course, was Harry's undoing. First he snorted, then he began to cough as he tried very hard not to laugh at Bob's humiliating situation.
Bob stood up straight and glared at him. "Oh, yes, by all means. Laugh at the man who can't defend himself against a stupid cat!" Bob suddenly pointed at Mister and shouted at Harry, "I'll have you know that that beast was chewing on the edge of one of the eye sockets, not five minutes ago! Do Something!"
Now, Harry did start laughing. He couldn't help it. The look on Bob's face and the cat sitting happily on his skull was just too much. A moment later, when he was able to speak, he said, "What are you worried about? Its warded. He can't hurt it." Bob just glared at him as he went over to the table. He picked up Mister and settled him in his left arm. Then he picked up the skull in his right hand and showed it to the cat. He said in a high pitched voice that all pet owners tended to use, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, this is not a chew toy." He gave a big kiss with a smacking sound to the cat's forehead. Then, impulsively, he gave a similar smacking kiss to Bob's skull, just above the right eye socket.
"Harry! That's disgusting."
"Which? Kissing the cat or kissing your skull?" Harry asked as he set the skull on a shelf.
"The cat, of course." Bob smirked. Then he dematerialized and flew back to his skull.
Amused, Harry carried the cat into the kitchen and placed him on his favorite perch, the top of the refridgerator. As he began putting away the groceries, Harry wondered at his own audacity to kiss Bob's skull. It didn't seem to bother Bob. In fact, he had seemed... pleased. Or maybe that was Harry's own wishful thinking. Oh, well, he thought, time to open up the shop.
*****
Harry yawned, thoroughly bored. It had been an uneventful day. The only thing interesting had been his conversation with Murphy about Lorne and Caritas. It took some fast talking, but he finally convinced her that she needn't call out the National Guard to fight off the 'demon hordes' invading Chicago. They had, apparently, already been there for quite some time and hadn't caused any major problems... yet. He promised that he'd keep an eye on things and let her know if it looked like trouble was brewing. He didn't mention the bar under the warehouse. He'd let Morgan handle that one.
It was about five o'clock when he decided it was time to collect Bob and go meet Kendra's witches-in-training. He thought about taking a book to read, but remembered his promise to Kendra to pay attention to Bob's lecture. He didn't mind too much. Even if the subject turned out to be boring, he loved the sound of Bob's voice.
He went into the front room and took Bob's skull down from the shelf he'd placed it on that morning. Immediately, he knew Bob wasn't in it. He didn't know how, but he could always tell if Bob was in his skull or not. Bob said that he shouldn't be able to do that, but somehow, he just knew.
After placing the skull in the satchel he used to carry it, Harry went to the lab, thinking Bob would be there. He was right. Bob was standing in a darkened corner, one arm around his waist, supporting his other arm as his fingers lightly tapped his lower lip. He seemed deep in thought and didn't notice Harry's approach.
"Bob? You ready? Its time to go."
Bob looked up and said, "I suppose there's no delaying it, is there?"
Harry sighed, "Look, Bob. You made a deal with Kendra. You've got to at least try to see this through. At least once. If you really hate it, I'll talk to Kendra. But, please, try. You might like it. You always seem to love lecturing me." This last part was an attempt at humor and it did get Bob to smile a little.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what's wrong with me. You'd think I'd love a chance to get to know a bunch of lovely young ladies. I'm just... nervous. Its been a very long time since I've been exposed to a large group of people."
"You're gonna be fine." he paused, then his face lit up. "I got an idea. After we introduce everybody and those girls get settled, forget about them. Just look at me. Give your lecture to me. You're use to that. You've been doing it for twenty-five years. Don't even think about the girls."
Bob looked at Harry, the tension easing. A little smile began to grow on his face. "Harry, I do believe that that is a wonderful idea. And, if you sit in the middle of them, they'd never know that I was only paying attention to you."
"Uh, we'll see about that. Come on. We need to get goin'." Though it wasn't necessary, he held open the satchel for Bob to dematerialize and vanish into his skull.
*****
They arrived at Jackson Park at 5:50. Harry noted how few people were around and waited just a moment to make sure no one was looking in their direction before he called Bob out of his skull. Patiently, he waited as Bob looked around at the lush greenery of the park. It was late summer, comfortably cool in the evenings, but not cool enough yet for the leaves to start changing. Harry wished that Bob had his sense of smell. There was nothing quite like the smell of fresh cut grass.
Harry stood beside Bob and glanced around at the few small groups of people in the park. "I guess with school back in session, not a lot of people are going to be here in the evenings, at least on week nights." One thing Harry had learned, when school was in session, he had a lot less trouble with teenagers messing around with magic and Ouija boards. Most of the stuff they got their hands on was harmless mass-produced garbage. But once in a while, some poor kid would stumble onto something very real and very dangerous, as in 'eat your face off' dangerous. Harry figured that when school was out, most kids only got into that stuff out of boredom. Needless to say, Harry tended to keep track of when school was out.
Distracted, Bob muttered, "I suppose not."
Harry edged a little closer to Bob. "Maybe, we could start coming out here for a walk now and then. I mean, as long as its not crowded."
Bob quickly turned to Harry, a look of longing on his face. "Oh, Harry, could we? I really do miss the walks we use to take in the Manor gardens."
"I know, Bob. And I'm sorry. I know I've been neglecting you. Its not like you can just go by yourself. I just get so distracted that I forget that you have needs, too. I promise to bring you here at least once a week, weather permitting. And if I forget? Just remind me not to be a jack-ass."
Bob smiled and said sweetly, "Don't worry, Harry. I'll be glad to call you a jack-ass any time you like."
Harry huffed and choked back a laugh as he pointed a finger in Bob's face. "That's not what I said and you know it."
"Its not?" Bob asked innocently as they began walking in the direction of their meeting place.
When they arrived at the spot Kendra had indicated, they didn't see anyone around. Harry saw several benches and picnic tables in the area and began dragging some of them over to the willow tree. They waited a few more moments, wondering if there was more than one willow tree in the area. Then they heard a gaggle of feminine voices, evidence of several conversations going on at once, as a group of young women came into view, Kendra picking up the rear. One voice could be heard clearly above all the others. "... so then he shoves his hand into the watermelon half and starts eating it right out of his hand. Juice is dripping everywhere and the girl across the room is staring at him like this is the sexiest thing she's ever seen. I mean, she's like really getting turned on. And I'm like thinking 'What's up with that? That's not sexy, its just... sticky!' I mean, you gotta wonder if the director has ever even had a girlfriend."
Harry had his back turned. He was snorting, trying not to laugh. If that was an example of Bob's new students, Bob was in for a world of frustration and trouble. He was about to learn what every male on the planet already knew, that modern teenaged girls were an alien species with their own made up language. This was gonna be fun.
There were ten girls, all in their late teens or very early twenties. They gathered around Harry and Bob and looked at them as if they expected something. Kendra moved through the small crowd and addressed them. "Ladies, I would like to introduce my very special friends, Harry Dresden and Lord Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Mr. Dresden is a wizard and..."
"Harry. Just Harry... sorry." Harry interrupted. He had never felt comfortable with any one calling him 'Mr. Dresden'.
Kendra just smiled and continued, "Harry is a wizard and a private investigator. He deals mostly with supernatural problems such as our Angela had a few months ago." She indicated the pretty little blond to the right of the group, who blushed a bright pink. Harry always thought it ironic that a Hellion had fallen for a girl named Angela.
"And Lord Bainbridge is, as you already know, a ghost of some renown. He has existed in both life and death for more than eight hundred years. He has personally been witness to a great deal of history, and I'm not speaking only of what they have in the history books at school. Now I have a very simple request, be respectful, listen and learn. Thank you." With that, she moved to stand under the willow tree.
Harry walked over to the willow tree and sat down at it's base to lean against it's trunk. He'd positioned the benches so that, if Bob looked down the middle of the group, he'd be looking right at Harry. As he got comfortable, he noticed Bob smiling at him gratefully.
As the girls settled, sitting stiffly, Bob stood before them, his hands behind his back and his head held high, his best lecturing stance. He opened his mouth to begin when one of the girl's hand shot up into the air.
A little off balance, he asked, "Yes?"
"Excuse me, sir. But, what should we call you? Lord Bainbridge? Hrothbert?"
Bob paused. Normally, he would have thought such a question was an attempt to make fun of his old title and name. However the young lady seemed to be quite sincere. "Well, since Harry has requested that you call him by his first name, I suppose, you may call me... Bob."
There was a scattering of giggles through out the group as they all visibly relaxed. It appeared that allowing them to call him Bob made him a little more approachable. The girl who'd asked the question smiled and said, "Thank you, Bob."
Bob could see both Harry and Kendra grinning at him. Harry even gave him a broad wink. He realized that they'd had faith in him even when he, himself, had not. He should have trusted his friends. Well, enough of this, it was time to lecture.
"As some of you may know, history and truth are not the same thing. Yes, history is written by the conquerors, the current ruling class, the leaders who control the printing presses. They write the version of history that they want you to believe. But they are not the only ones who influence what goes into your history books. The High Council, as well as other ruling bodies of various magical communities, seek always to hide our existence from the mundane world. So when a historic event happens due to magical influence, history is written and sometimes rewritten in order to hide that fact. Still, there are times when the truth should be revealed to those who are a part of the magical community, such as yourselves, so that the lessons of the past are not forgotten and mistakes are not repeated."
"This particular lesson concerns a young man, an apprentice of considerable talent. His intentions were all good. He'd only wanted to make life a little easier for mankind. What he accomplished... well, he was responsible for the Black Death."
"Wait a minute. The Bubonic plague? I thought the Black Death was cause by fleas or rats." The girl who'd interrupted him looked about seventeen, though it was hard to tell with her goth style clothes and makeup. You could hardly see her eyes through the heavy black liner and mascara, though it didn't detract attention from her bright silver nose ring.
"Your name, my dear?"
"Meg."
"Meg, as I stated at the beginning of my lecture, history is written for many purposes, including hiding the existence of magic. Now, I assure you that, at the end of my lecture, I will gladly answer any questions you like. May I please continue?"
Slightly embarrassed, Meg mumbled, "Yeah, sure."
"Thank you."
"As I stated, this young apprentice was responsible for the Black Death. Life was not easy in the mid thirteen hundreds. People had to work hard everyday just to survive. The only leisure time occurred in the dead of winter, and only then if you were lucky enough to store enough food and fuel for your fire to last the winter months. Which brings us to the reason behind our young man's folly. As a child he had seen families he'd known, people he'd called friend, starve to death because rats had gotten into their winter stores. It was not uncommon to find one's neighbors had perished in the dark winter months. Though some survived by eating the rats, not the most healthy of diets, I assure you."
A collective "ewww" rose from his audience. Other than that they remained quiet and still, listening in rapt silence.
"This young man's name was Edward of Durham. His goal was to destroy the rat population in England. But we all know that's not what happened. The Black Death is sometimes said to be the worst disaster in history, real or rewritten. It killed about 25 million people in Europe alone, about a quarter of the total population, and nobody knows how many millions in Asia. It devastated whole regions. Houses stood empty, towns were abandoned. Fields became littered with unburied corpses."
"The history books will tell you that the plague was first carried by rat fleas, which could also live on humans. That was partially correct. Bubonic plague did not spread by human contact, however the plague changed to pneumonic plague, which can be passed from person to person, again partially true."
"The history books also say that the plague started in Asia and, in a mere two years spread through the Mediterranean, across Europe and into Russia. The truth is that it started in Duram, England, north of London, and, in two years spread out through those countries, killing millions. Years later, the ruling body of the High Council was located in Northern Europe and they decided to rewrite that little fact, along with other details, because they didn't want their beloved England to be known as the source of the world's worst plague in history."
"Now, back to our dear, misguided Edward. As I stated, his goal was to destroy the rat population in England. So, using magic, he created a disease, more specifically, a virus, which was designed to kill rats. The carriers of this virus were the fleas that lived on the rats. At first, it worked rather well. It had no effect on humans and the rat population in Durham dropped dramatically, but then the rats started to develop an immunity and the virus began to mutate, as viruses tend to do. However, having been created through magic, this virus mutated faster than natural viruses. It began to attack humans. People couldn't adapt to it fast enough. And then it mutated again. It became pnuemonic. And you know the results."
"The point of this lecture is to show how good intentions can backfire horribly when the inexperienced try to meddle with nature. As I understand it, a great deal of your type of magic is involved with nature and the natural order of things. So have a care, good intentions can still lead to disaster if proper thought and care are not taken into consideration. Even the smallest change in the tiniest of creatures can have devastating results to the world at large."
"Now, if there are any questions, I'll be happy to answer them." Half way through his lecture, Bob had stopped looking at Harry and had been looking into the attentive and eager faces of his new students. He'd stopped thinking of them as 'the little wicca girls'. They seemed to be truly interested in what he had to say. He was actually enjoying this.
Several hands shot up, eager to ask a question or ten. Bob smiled and pointed to the young woman who'd politely asked what they should call him. "Your name and your question, please."
Shyly, she replied, "I'm Chloe, and please, what happened to Edward?"
Gravely Bob answered, "The High Council of that time beheaded him. It didn't matter that he had intended no harm. He had broken one of the Seven Laws of Magic. He'd used magic that resulted in the loss of human life, in this case, millions." Then he pointed to an excitable little brunette, about to bounce off her seat.
"I'm Lisa." Bob recognized her voice as the girl who'd been talking about watermelon when they'd arrived. "Didn't the Asians and other people complain about Europe claiming the plague had started with them. I mean, I'd be kinda upset if someone blamed me for the worse plague in history, especially if I didn't do it. But then, communication wasn't that great then and a lot of people died. Maybe there wasn't anybody left who knew the truth. Maybe by the time they'd heard about it, so many years had passed that it didn't matter anymore." She looked at Bob inquireringly. She'd spoken very quickly and one had to listen carefully to catch everything she'd said.
Bob stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth slightly open in shock. Judging from the amused looks on several of the girls faces, this was a common reaction to Lisa. Tentatively he said, "I believe you just answered your own question." She seemed satisfied, so he turned to goth-girl. "Meg, isn't it?"
"Yes. Were you alive at the time? And how do you know what Edward's motivations were?"
"Yes, I was alive at the time. The events in question happened some sixty years before my death. I was perhaps a little over one hundred and fifty years old then. As you all should know, anyone connected with magic tends to have an extended lifespan." At this point, he glared meaningfully at Harry. "At least, if they take proper care of themselves." He looked back at Meg and said sadly. "And I know about Edward's motivations because I was at his trial. I heard his life story. I heard his reasons. He was not a bad person. He made a mistake. But I think that for him, his death was a mercy. He hated himself for what he had done and he welcomed death. I hope he found peace."
After several more questions, Kendra called a halt to the class, claiming that it was getting late. Before leaving, Kendra came up to Bob and asked, "And have you found peace, Hrothbert?"
He smiled at her, glanced at Harry, who was several feet away still leaning against the willow tree, and replied, "Some. Its a work in progress."
As they were walking through the park toward the jeep, Harry observed, "That lecture was pretty good. I slept through that as a teen?"
"I believe you slept through most of your teenaged years. And when you weren't sleeping, you were daydreaming."
Harry remembered that most of those daydreams involved Bob. "Uh, yeah. Well, do you think you'll want to do this again?"
"You know? I think I rather like teaching again. Besides,... they're cute." He smiled smugly.
(To be continued.)
Author's Question: Imagine, for just a moment, that Bob had been ordered to teach Lisa instead of Harry. Any speculations on what would have been the result?
Author: stormyd55
Rating: PG...sorry, no smut.
Pairing: Bob/Harry... well, preslash (may they make like horny bunnies for all time)
Book/TV-Verse: TV
Warnings: I'm borrowing Lorne from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: Not mine! But, oh how I wish they were (evil chuckle).
Word Count: approx. 5400
Summary: Harry goes to a karaoke bar and meets a very unusal person. Mister indulges in 'skull sitting'. And later, Bob teaches his first lesson.
Author's Note: I'm borrowing a character from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You all know Lorne. Lorne can't help but be drawn to Hero-types. And, hey, Harry's a hero. Oh, I do love crossing worlds. As for Bob's history lesson, I got a lot of information from an actual history book. Yes, I actually try to do real research on ocassion.
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3
Title: The Trouble With Drakes 4
Author: stormyd55
Rating: PG...sorry, no smut.
Pairing: Bob/Harry... well, preslash (may they make like horny bunnies for all time)
Book/TV-Verse: TV
Warnings: I'm borrowing Lorne from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Disclaimer: Not mine! But, oh how I wish they were (evil chuckle).
Word Count: approx. 5400
Summary: Harry goes to a karaoke bar and meets a very unusal person. Mister indulges in 'skull sitting'. And later, Bob teaches his first lesson.
Author's Note: I'm borrowing a character from Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. You all know Lorne. Lorne can't help but be drawn to Hero-types. And, hey, Harry's a hero. Oh, I do love crossing worlds. As for Bob's history lesson, I got a lot of information from an actual history book. Yes, I actually try to do real research on ocassion.
*******
Harry tried to act casual as he approached the alley. There were two 'people' standing near the mouth of the alley, talking. One appeared to be a human woman, while the other was without a doubt a Lochsri demon. With a head resembling a cuddlefish, it was hard to mistake it for anything else. Harry wasn't particularly worried about it. Lochsri demons were mostly neutral and usually more interested in selling you something rather than hurting you.
Nervously, he made his way to the brightly lit doorway and went inside. He let his eyes adjust to the normal nightclub gloom and tried not to let his jaw drop to the floor. The variety of demons was phenomenal. He couldn't even identify more than half of them. And at least twenty percent of the clientele were human. A few might have been vampires, but most were human.
"Well, hello there. Welcome to Caritas. I'm Lorne, the Host."
Harry found himself staring at a tall, green demon with red eyes and red horns. He was dressed in a tailored cream colored linen suit with a matching cream colored silk tie cascading down the front of his bright red silk shirt. He was holding a tumbler containing what looked like an alchoholic beverage and was waving it around expressively as he spoke. But what really threw Harry was the guy's brilliant and totally charming smile.
"Uh, Caritas. That means 'mercy', doesn't it?"
If at all possible, that smile got even brighter. "Why, yes it does, tall, dark and cute as a button. You know, if my porch swing went that way, I'd be all over you."
Harry froze. He honestly didn't know whether to be flattered or to run home screaming. Come on! The guy's a demon. For all Harry knew, 'be all over you' meant with a knife, fork and a whole lot of ketchup. Although, he didn't get any of those nasty run-for-your-life vibes from Lorne. And he usually had good instincts about everything except women and romance. Then he realized that Lorne had continued talking. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I said you should sign up for some mike time.", indicating the stage. "You look like you could use a reading. It's a little busy tonight, but I'm sure I could squeeze you in."
Now Harry was really confused. "What do you mean 'a reading'?"
"You don't know? But, of course, you're a newbie. Ok, cupcake, in a nutshell, I'm an empath demon. When I hear a person sing, I see their destiny, a bit of their future, maybe a bit of their past. Whatever the Powers That Be decide to show me. I help people find the path they're meant to be on, maybe help them solve some of their problems. My guess is you've got romance troubles. Am I right?" He spoke in a singsong rhythmn as if any moment he'd burst into an actual song.
"Everybody's got romance troubles." Harry replied wryly.
"HAH! You ain't kiddin'. Between Slayers and vampires falling in love and some guy trying to stop time and freeze the world just so his girlfriend won't leave, romance is taking a real kick in the teeth." Lorne's face took on a knowing and sympathetic look. "Not that everybody else's problems are unimportant or that, with a little guidance, they can't be fixed. What d'ya say? It couldn't hurt.", he coaxed, again indicating the stage.
"I'll pass, thanks. What I really need is information. My name's Harry Dresden and..."
"Harry Dresden! The Wizard? The one in the phonebook?" Lorne laughed. "Oh, I bet you've got a lot more problems than just romance. Between legitimate, supernatural bad-asses," pointing at the crowd around them, "and just plain, crazy nut-jobs, I'll bet your life is one big, sloppy mess."
Harry's eyes narrowed and he decided that it was time to change the subject. "Speaking of supernatural, would you mind telling me what the magic and spells I'm sensing around us are for?"
"You can sense that? Oooo, you're good. But, not to worry, they're antiviolence spells. Caritas is a haven," he swept his arm in a wide arc, as if showing off his pride and joy, "a sanctuary, if you will. I don't allow violence of any kind from or against demon or human. So don't be thinking about causing any trouble.", he added good naturedly, shaking his finger under Harry's nose.
Harry thought about that for a second, it'd be nice to have a safe place to run to if he needed it. "Ok. I can live with that. But why haven't I heard of this place before?"
"Ahh, well, I just opened up here in Chicago. I had a club for a few years in Los Angelos, but my friends kept driving cars into it and blowing it up. And then I had to go and help them piss off Wolfram and Hart... it was just safer for me to leave town and start fresh. So here I am in Chicago."
Gee, Harry thought, with friends like that, who needs enemies.
"And what exactly are your intentions here in Chicago? You see, this is my town. I'm a little protective of it."
Lorne held up both hands, "Whoa. Take it easy. I don't want any trouble with anybody. Especially the local hero types. That was my problem in L.A." He looked a little sheepish. "I kept getting involved with Angel and his little hero crusades. I should have just minded my own business. But, Nooo! I have to go help save the world and in the process lose my business, watch my friends die and end up running for my life. No! No more hero stuff for me. No sirree." He tried to look adamant but failed entirely.
Harry was beginning to see an opportunity here. With access to so many supernatural entities, Lorne could be a prime source of information. But he knew better than to broach the subject right now. Forewarned, Lorne would probably just dig his heels in and totally resist ever helping Harry. Best to take it slow and just act friendly for right now. "Well, as long as you're not out to start any trouble, I have no problem with you. However, I've got a friend who might. She's a cop with Chicago's Special Investigations unit. They handle anything weird like strange deaths. And, in this town, strange usually means magic, werewolves, vampires, demons, etc. Most of them don't believe in that stuff, but that doesn't stop the Chicago PD from barging into questionable situations like this place. She's gonna want to know where all these 'interesting people' came from. Did they follow you here from L.A.? And, even if you aren't looking for trouble, are they?" Harry paused as he looked around. "I recognize a few of these demon races. Most are fairly benign, but a few can be considered more than a little dangerous. What do I tell her about them?"
Lorne sighed dramatically, "Ok, I can see your point. But, I assure you, they did not follow me from L.A. They were already here in Chicago. And, if they haven't caused you any serious problems before now, I doubt they'll start just because I've opened up a bar that caters to they're kind. Which, by the way is not the only one that does. There are at least three bars in this town that serve non-humans and they've been here for years. Have you checked them out?"
"I assume one of those belongs to Bianca. I've known her for years and I know how she does business. She knows not to cross the line or she'll have to deal with me, or worse, the wardens. I'm not familiar with the others. If you'll give me their addresses, I'll check them out as well." Harry smiled, "After all, I wouldn't want you to feel like I was picking on you."
"Now why would I feel that?" Lorne grumbled sarcastically. He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notepad and pen. He quickly wrote down the requested information and handed the sheet to Harry. "Just don't tell anyone that I sent you. Oh, the one near the docks is in the sub-basement of that abandoned warehouse. Be careful, they don't cater to humans at all. In fact, depending on whose there that night, if you're caught, you could end up on the menu." He said this last bit with a rather wicked smile, then turned and walked away, effectively ending the conversation.
Harry looked around the club for a few minutes, assessing the damage all these demons could do in Chicago. But if Lorne was right and these 'people' had already been here,... well, they hadn't done anything yet to show up on the radar. He knew from personal experience what it was like to be seen as the guilty bad guy every time something bad happened. He was always having to 'prove he didn't do it' to Morgan and Mai. So, he wasn't about to start picking fights with these 'people' just because they belonged to demon races with bad reputations.
He looked at the addresses on the paper Lorne had given him. It could be a trap but something told him that he could trust Lorne. He thought about it and decided that he might as well check them out that night and get it over with. He left quickly, before Lorne came back and tried to talk him into singing again.
*****
Harry was not happy when he got home that night. One of the bars that Lorne had told him about was passive enough. It catered to both demon and human clientele and seemed to be a fairly nice jazz club. He wouldn't want to become a regular customer, but he didn't get any bad vibes from the place. The owner was a human who had stumbled onto the existence of a demon society in Chicago and, being a man of vision, saw an opportunity to provide a safe place for them to gather and socialize for the small price of a cover charge and a two drink minimum. Nice guy really.
The other bar was a different story altogether. Keeping Lorne's warning in mind, Harry had used a veil to hide his presence. Bob had recently taught it to him and he wasn't very good at it, but that night, it seemed to work ok (Until a large demon with an absolutely huge snout came in and seemed to be sniffing him out. Fortunately, he was ready to leave by then, which he did with great haste.). The place had about a dozen of the worst demon races he knew of, plus a few that he didn't recognize but had a stong feeling that dangerous didn't even come close to describing them. He decided on his way home that this was one situation that he was not equipped to handle.
The first thing he did when he got home was call Morgan. After apologizing for calling so late, he told him about the bar full of dangerous demons under the warehouse, gave him a list of the ones he recognized and a description of those he didn't. At first, Morgan just seemed irritated, but, by the end of the conversation, he seemed rather concerned. He told Harry that, with the Drake problem, he couldn't spare the resources to deal with the situation right now, but that he would put the place under surveilance. And next time Harry felt the need to bring something to Morgan's attention, wait 'til morning, damn it.
Harry hung up the phone, feeling better despite Morgan's complaint. Bob had showed up during his conversation with Morgan. He had expressed relief that Harry had, for once, shown some sense and left the demon situation to Morgan and his warden's. When Harry had told him about the rest of his night, he seemed intrigued by Lorne and his ability to 'read' people and their destinies. He returned to his skull when Harry told him he was going to shower and go to bed.
Harry went into the kitchen to feed Mister and cursed when he realized that he was out of cat food. He opened a can of tuna he'd planned to have for lunch the next day and decided to get up early the next morning to run to the grocery store for cat food before opening the shop.
He grabbed Bob's skull as he headed for the stairs leading to his bedroom. Ever since the Tara incident, he'd made it a habit to keep Bob's skull on his night stand when he went to bed. Bob didn't seem to mind and he would always bring the skull back to the front room when he got up each morning. He just... felt better having Bob close. Of course, that meant that he had to confine his 'jerk off' sessions to the bathroom, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
Harry got a fresh t-shirt and boxers and went into the bathroom. He showered quickly, wanting to rid himself of any lingering stench acquired at that last demon bar. Once he was finished, he returned to the bedroom and practically fell onto the bed. He was asleep before he could pull the covers over himself.
*****
Early the next morning, Harry struggled to get through his door without dropping the grocery bags he was carrying. As he'd planned the previous night, he'd gotten up early to run out and get Mister some cat food. Once there, as usual, he'd run in to get one item and had come out with thirty.
He carried the bags into the kitchen just as he heard "Dresden! Will you come do something with this beast!"
Harry knew that the wards were fine, so he assumed that the 'beast' Bob was referring to was, as usual, Mister. Curious, he followed Bob's voice into the front room. Then he froze in amused shock.
Bob was standing by a table, bent at the waist, staring into Mister's face. The cat had decided that Bob's skull would make a fine perch. However, being at least thirty pounds, he could only drape the front half of his body over the crown of the skull. His front paws were approximately where Bob's eyebrows would have been and were clenching and unclenching, as cats do when they are extremely content and happy.
Bob, however, was not content and happy. He suddenly lunged forward and hissed in Mister's face. This only resulted in the cat beginning to purr,... rather loudly.
And that, of course, was Harry's undoing. First he snorted, then he began to cough as he tried very hard not to laugh at Bob's humiliating situation.
Bob stood up straight and glared at him. "Oh, yes, by all means. Laugh at the man who can't defend himself against a stupid cat!" Bob suddenly pointed at Mister and shouted at Harry, "I'll have you know that that beast was chewing on the edge of one of the eye sockets, not five minutes ago! Do Something!"
Now, Harry did start laughing. He couldn't help it. The look on Bob's face and the cat sitting happily on his skull was just too much. A moment later, when he was able to speak, he said, "What are you worried about? Its warded. He can't hurt it." Bob just glared at him as he went over to the table. He picked up Mister and settled him in his left arm. Then he picked up the skull in his right hand and showed it to the cat. He said in a high pitched voice that all pet owners tended to use, "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, this is not a chew toy." He gave a big kiss with a smacking sound to the cat's forehead. Then, impulsively, he gave a similar smacking kiss to Bob's skull, just above the right eye socket.
"Harry! That's disgusting."
"Which? Kissing the cat or kissing your skull?" Harry asked as he set the skull on a shelf.
"The cat, of course." Bob smirked. Then he dematerialized and flew back to his skull.
Amused, Harry carried the cat into the kitchen and placed him on his favorite perch, the top of the refridgerator. As he began putting away the groceries, Harry wondered at his own audacity to kiss Bob's skull. It didn't seem to bother Bob. In fact, he had seemed... pleased. Or maybe that was Harry's own wishful thinking. Oh, well, he thought, time to open up the shop.
*****
Harry yawned, thoroughly bored. It had been an uneventful day. The only thing interesting had been his conversation with Murphy about Lorne and Caritas. It took some fast talking, but he finally convinced her that she needn't call out the National Guard to fight off the 'demon hordes' invading Chicago. They had, apparently, already been there for quite some time and hadn't caused any major problems... yet. He promised that he'd keep an eye on things and let her know if it looked like trouble was brewing. He didn't mention the bar under the warehouse. He'd let Morgan handle that one.
It was about five o'clock when he decided it was time to collect Bob and go meet Kendra's witches-in-training. He thought about taking a book to read, but remembered his promise to Kendra to pay attention to Bob's lecture. He didn't mind too much. Even if the subject turned out to be boring, he loved the sound of Bob's voice.
He went into the front room and took Bob's skull down from the shelf he'd placed it on that morning. Immediately, he knew Bob wasn't in it. He didn't know how, but he could always tell if Bob was in his skull or not. Bob said that he shouldn't be able to do that, but somehow, he just knew.
After placing the skull in the satchel he used to carry it, Harry went to the lab, thinking Bob would be there. He was right. Bob was standing in a darkened corner, one arm around his waist, supporting his other arm as his fingers lightly tapped his lower lip. He seemed deep in thought and didn't notice Harry's approach.
"Bob? You ready? Its time to go."
Bob looked up and said, "I suppose there's no delaying it, is there?"
Harry sighed, "Look, Bob. You made a deal with Kendra. You've got to at least try to see this through. At least once. If you really hate it, I'll talk to Kendra. But, please, try. You might like it. You always seem to love lecturing me." This last part was an attempt at humor and it did get Bob to smile a little.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what's wrong with me. You'd think I'd love a chance to get to know a bunch of lovely young ladies. I'm just... nervous. Its been a very long time since I've been exposed to a large group of people."
"You're gonna be fine." he paused, then his face lit up. "I got an idea. After we introduce everybody and those girls get settled, forget about them. Just look at me. Give your lecture to me. You're use to that. You've been doing it for twenty-five years. Don't even think about the girls."
Bob looked at Harry, the tension easing. A little smile began to grow on his face. "Harry, I do believe that that is a wonderful idea. And, if you sit in the middle of them, they'd never know that I was only paying attention to you."
"Uh, we'll see about that. Come on. We need to get goin'." Though it wasn't necessary, he held open the satchel for Bob to dematerialize and vanish into his skull.
*****
They arrived at Jackson Park at 5:50. Harry noted how few people were around and waited just a moment to make sure no one was looking in their direction before he called Bob out of his skull. Patiently, he waited as Bob looked around at the lush greenery of the park. It was late summer, comfortably cool in the evenings, but not cool enough yet for the leaves to start changing. Harry wished that Bob had his sense of smell. There was nothing quite like the smell of fresh cut grass.
Harry stood beside Bob and glanced around at the few small groups of people in the park. "I guess with school back in session, not a lot of people are going to be here in the evenings, at least on week nights." One thing Harry had learned, when school was in session, he had a lot less trouble with teenagers messing around with magic and Ouija boards. Most of the stuff they got their hands on was harmless mass-produced garbage. But once in a while, some poor kid would stumble onto something very real and very dangerous, as in 'eat your face off' dangerous. Harry figured that when school was out, most kids only got into that stuff out of boredom. Needless to say, Harry tended to keep track of when school was out.
Distracted, Bob muttered, "I suppose not."
Harry edged a little closer to Bob. "Maybe, we could start coming out here for a walk now and then. I mean, as long as its not crowded."
Bob quickly turned to Harry, a look of longing on his face. "Oh, Harry, could we? I really do miss the walks we use to take in the Manor gardens."
"I know, Bob. And I'm sorry. I know I've been neglecting you. Its not like you can just go by yourself. I just get so distracted that I forget that you have needs, too. I promise to bring you here at least once a week, weather permitting. And if I forget? Just remind me not to be a jack-ass."
Bob smiled and said sweetly, "Don't worry, Harry. I'll be glad to call you a jack-ass any time you like."
Harry huffed and choked back a laugh as he pointed a finger in Bob's face. "That's not what I said and you know it."
"Its not?" Bob asked innocently as they began walking in the direction of their meeting place.
When they arrived at the spot Kendra had indicated, they didn't see anyone around. Harry saw several benches and picnic tables in the area and began dragging some of them over to the willow tree. They waited a few more moments, wondering if there was more than one willow tree in the area. Then they heard a gaggle of feminine voices, evidence of several conversations going on at once, as a group of young women came into view, Kendra picking up the rear. One voice could be heard clearly above all the others. "... so then he shoves his hand into the watermelon half and starts eating it right out of his hand. Juice is dripping everywhere and the girl across the room is staring at him like this is the sexiest thing she's ever seen. I mean, she's like really getting turned on. And I'm like thinking 'What's up with that? That's not sexy, its just... sticky!' I mean, you gotta wonder if the director has ever even had a girlfriend."
Harry had his back turned. He was snorting, trying not to laugh. If that was an example of Bob's new students, Bob was in for a world of frustration and trouble. He was about to learn what every male on the planet already knew, that modern teenaged girls were an alien species with their own made up language. This was gonna be fun.
There were ten girls, all in their late teens or very early twenties. They gathered around Harry and Bob and looked at them as if they expected something. Kendra moved through the small crowd and addressed them. "Ladies, I would like to introduce my very special friends, Harry Dresden and Lord Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Mr. Dresden is a wizard and..."
"Harry. Just Harry... sorry." Harry interrupted. He had never felt comfortable with any one calling him 'Mr. Dresden'.
Kendra just smiled and continued, "Harry is a wizard and a private investigator. He deals mostly with supernatural problems such as our Angela had a few months ago." She indicated the pretty little blond to the right of the group, who blushed a bright pink. Harry always thought it ironic that a Hellion had fallen for a girl named Angela.
"And Lord Bainbridge is, as you already know, a ghost of some renown. He has existed in both life and death for more than eight hundred years. He has personally been witness to a great deal of history, and I'm not speaking only of what they have in the history books at school. Now I have a very simple request, be respectful, listen and learn. Thank you." With that, she moved to stand under the willow tree.
Harry walked over to the willow tree and sat down at it's base to lean against it's trunk. He'd positioned the benches so that, if Bob looked down the middle of the group, he'd be looking right at Harry. As he got comfortable, he noticed Bob smiling at him gratefully.
As the girls settled, sitting stiffly, Bob stood before them, his hands behind his back and his head held high, his best lecturing stance. He opened his mouth to begin when one of the girl's hand shot up into the air.
A little off balance, he asked, "Yes?"
"Excuse me, sir. But, what should we call you? Lord Bainbridge? Hrothbert?"
Bob paused. Normally, he would have thought such a question was an attempt to make fun of his old title and name. However the young lady seemed to be quite sincere. "Well, since Harry has requested that you call him by his first name, I suppose, you may call me... Bob."
There was a scattering of giggles through out the group as they all visibly relaxed. It appeared that allowing them to call him Bob made him a little more approachable. The girl who'd asked the question smiled and said, "Thank you, Bob."
Bob could see both Harry and Kendra grinning at him. Harry even gave him a broad wink. He realized that they'd had faith in him even when he, himself, had not. He should have trusted his friends. Well, enough of this, it was time to lecture.
"As some of you may know, history and truth are not the same thing. Yes, history is written by the conquerors, the current ruling class, the leaders who control the printing presses. They write the version of history that they want you to believe. But they are not the only ones who influence what goes into your history books. The High Council, as well as other ruling bodies of various magical communities, seek always to hide our existence from the mundane world. So when a historic event happens due to magical influence, history is written and sometimes rewritten in order to hide that fact. Still, there are times when the truth should be revealed to those who are a part of the magical community, such as yourselves, so that the lessons of the past are not forgotten and mistakes are not repeated."
"This particular lesson concerns a young man, an apprentice of considerable talent. His intentions were all good. He'd only wanted to make life a little easier for mankind. What he accomplished... well, he was responsible for the Black Death."
"Wait a minute. The Bubonic plague? I thought the Black Death was cause by fleas or rats." The girl who'd interrupted him looked about seventeen, though it was hard to tell with her goth style clothes and makeup. You could hardly see her eyes through the heavy black liner and mascara, though it didn't detract attention from her bright silver nose ring.
"Your name, my dear?"
"Meg."
"Meg, as I stated at the beginning of my lecture, history is written for many purposes, including hiding the existence of magic. Now, I assure you that, at the end of my lecture, I will gladly answer any questions you like. May I please continue?"
Slightly embarrassed, Meg mumbled, "Yeah, sure."
"Thank you."
"As I stated, this young apprentice was responsible for the Black Death. Life was not easy in the mid thirteen hundreds. People had to work hard everyday just to survive. The only leisure time occurred in the dead of winter, and only then if you were lucky enough to store enough food and fuel for your fire to last the winter months. Which brings us to the reason behind our young man's folly. As a child he had seen families he'd known, people he'd called friend, starve to death because rats had gotten into their winter stores. It was not uncommon to find one's neighbors had perished in the dark winter months. Though some survived by eating the rats, not the most healthy of diets, I assure you."
A collective "ewww" rose from his audience. Other than that they remained quiet and still, listening in rapt silence.
"This young man's name was Edward of Durham. His goal was to destroy the rat population in England. But we all know that's not what happened. The Black Death is sometimes said to be the worst disaster in history, real or rewritten. It killed about 25 million people in Europe alone, about a quarter of the total population, and nobody knows how many millions in Asia. It devastated whole regions. Houses stood empty, towns were abandoned. Fields became littered with unburied corpses."
"The history books will tell you that the plague was first carried by rat fleas, which could also live on humans. That was partially correct. Bubonic plague did not spread by human contact, however the plague changed to pneumonic plague, which can be passed from person to person, again partially true."
"The history books also say that the plague started in Asia and, in a mere two years spread through the Mediterranean, across Europe and into Russia. The truth is that it started in Duram, England, north of London, and, in two years spread out through those countries, killing millions. Years later, the ruling body of the High Council was located in Northern Europe and they decided to rewrite that little fact, along with other details, because they didn't want their beloved England to be known as the source of the world's worst plague in history."
"Now, back to our dear, misguided Edward. As I stated, his goal was to destroy the rat population in England. So, using magic, he created a disease, more specifically, a virus, which was designed to kill rats. The carriers of this virus were the fleas that lived on the rats. At first, it worked rather well. It had no effect on humans and the rat population in Durham dropped dramatically, but then the rats started to develop an immunity and the virus began to mutate, as viruses tend to do. However, having been created through magic, this virus mutated faster than natural viruses. It began to attack humans. People couldn't adapt to it fast enough. And then it mutated again. It became pnuemonic. And you know the results."
"The point of this lecture is to show how good intentions can backfire horribly when the inexperienced try to meddle with nature. As I understand it, a great deal of your type of magic is involved with nature and the natural order of things. So have a care, good intentions can still lead to disaster if proper thought and care are not taken into consideration. Even the smallest change in the tiniest of creatures can have devastating results to the world at large."
"Now, if there are any questions, I'll be happy to answer them." Half way through his lecture, Bob had stopped looking at Harry and had been looking into the attentive and eager faces of his new students. He'd stopped thinking of them as 'the little wicca girls'. They seemed to be truly interested in what he had to say. He was actually enjoying this.
Several hands shot up, eager to ask a question or ten. Bob smiled and pointed to the young woman who'd politely asked what they should call him. "Your name and your question, please."
Shyly, she replied, "I'm Chloe, and please, what happened to Edward?"
Gravely Bob answered, "The High Council of that time beheaded him. It didn't matter that he had intended no harm. He had broken one of the Seven Laws of Magic. He'd used magic that resulted in the loss of human life, in this case, millions." Then he pointed to an excitable little brunette, about to bounce off her seat.
"I'm Lisa." Bob recognized her voice as the girl who'd been talking about watermelon when they'd arrived. "Didn't the Asians and other people complain about Europe claiming the plague had started with them. I mean, I'd be kinda upset if someone blamed me for the worse plague in history, especially if I didn't do it. But then, communication wasn't that great then and a lot of people died. Maybe there wasn't anybody left who knew the truth. Maybe by the time they'd heard about it, so many years had passed that it didn't matter anymore." She looked at Bob inquireringly. She'd spoken very quickly and one had to listen carefully to catch everything she'd said.
Bob stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth slightly open in shock. Judging from the amused looks on several of the girls faces, this was a common reaction to Lisa. Tentatively he said, "I believe you just answered your own question." She seemed satisfied, so he turned to goth-girl. "Meg, isn't it?"
"Yes. Were you alive at the time? And how do you know what Edward's motivations were?"
"Yes, I was alive at the time. The events in question happened some sixty years before my death. I was perhaps a little over one hundred and fifty years old then. As you all should know, anyone connected with magic tends to have an extended lifespan." At this point, he glared meaningfully at Harry. "At least, if they take proper care of themselves." He looked back at Meg and said sadly. "And I know about Edward's motivations because I was at his trial. I heard his life story. I heard his reasons. He was not a bad person. He made a mistake. But I think that for him, his death was a mercy. He hated himself for what he had done and he welcomed death. I hope he found peace."
After several more questions, Kendra called a halt to the class, claiming that it was getting late. Before leaving, Kendra came up to Bob and asked, "And have you found peace, Hrothbert?"
He smiled at her, glanced at Harry, who was several feet away still leaning against the willow tree, and replied, "Some. Its a work in progress."
As they were walking through the park toward the jeep, Harry observed, "That lecture was pretty good. I slept through that as a teen?"
"I believe you slept through most of your teenaged years. And when you weren't sleeping, you were daydreaming."
Harry remembered that most of those daydreams involved Bob. "Uh, yeah. Well, do you think you'll want to do this again?"
"You know? I think I rather like teaching again. Besides,... they're cute." He smiled smugly.
(To be continued.)
Author's Question: Imagine, for just a moment, that Bob had been ordered to teach Lisa instead of Harry. Any speculations on what would have been the result?