Ficlet: The Dresden Files: Sentinel
For fanfic50.
Title: Sentinel
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 45. Stare
Word Count: 852
Rating: G
Summary: Harry is a bit late.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The first line of defense was relatively easy to breach - on the second try. The first attempt earned Harry a stinging jolt of magical energy that reminded him somewhat painfully of the counterspell's proper Latin pronunciation. Although he felt the wards fall, he still gave a mental sigh of relief when he was able to touch the tarnished doorknob without further injury.
His intent was to open the door just wide enough to slip inside undetected but the rusted metal hinges had other plans as they squealed in shrill protest. The sound was piercing in the early morning quiet, sending a stab of pain behind his eyes that earned a muttered expletive. Before he could blast the offending metal into pieces, the second line of defense launched its attack.
A monstrous ball of shadow-shrouded fur shot between his legs and wove itself around his ankles, throwing him off balance. Harry reflexively threw out a hand and caught the door jamb as he stumbled forward, barely avoiding falling face first onto the hardwood floor.
"Mrroooww?, said his assailant, saucer-round eyes glinting green-gold.
"Shhhhhhhh!" Harry hissed, firmly pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't-"
"MRRROOOWWRRR!!" The fur ball howled its disfavor and took a swipe at the hem of the wizard's leather duster with a heavy paw.
"Stop! Stop! Hells bells, Mister, do you want to wake the dead?"
"Too late," said a crisp, terse voice from the darkness.
Oh crap! "Now you've done it."
The cat replied with an arched-tail rebuke before stalking off in a huff, leaving Harry alone to face the third and most intimidating line of defense.
"Um…" said Harry eloquently. He lifted his hand and tentatively waggled a few fingers in greeting. "Hi?"
The sentinel regarded him with a rigid expression and blue eyes as frigid as an arctic sea.
"…Nice night?"
The eyes narrowed in response.
"I mean morning! Good morning." Harry shifted uncomfortably under that intense scrutiny. "I guess I'm a little late."
"A little?" The temperature in the room dropped several degrees in accompaniment.
"Okay, maybe more than a little." Harry's breath was suddenly visible in the newly frosted air. "But I've got a good explanation!"
"Do you so?"
"Yeah, I do."
"A damsel in distress?"
"As a matter of fact."
"Fearsome foes?"
"At least five."
"That many?"
"There could have been more," said Harry. "It was dark. I might have missed a few."
"I dare say that is not all that escaped you." Bob looked with pointed deliberation at Harry's duster.
The younger wizard followed his gaze and discovered a dried blotch of red on the worn leather. Before he could offer an explanation, the ghost reached out a pale hand and brushed the stain with spectral fingers. A faint chill accompanied a momentary glow of magic.
"I personally am unaware of any antagonist, living or dead, composed of marinara sauce and garlic."
"Would you believe it's part of a defensive spell against black court vampires?"
"No, I would not, and neither would you if fed the same tall tale," said Bob in terse rebuke. "It is of little consequence to me whether you spent the evening and early hours of the morning enjoying the antics of a wench or a pizza--"
"Both?"
"--but if you will insist on telling a falsehood when confronted, at least make it marginally convincing. It may one day save your life."
"Lighten up, Bob! It's not as if I've never been late before."
"Most assuredly true. However, the Council has never been at war with the Red Court before. You assured me that you would return before dark. It is now dawn of the next day. A message as to your whereabouts and wellbeing would have been appreciated."
Harry opened his mouth to snap out a wiseass response but something in the ghost's carefully guarded expression circumvented the impulse.
Bob seemed not to have noticed. "I have no idea how many bottles of MacAnally's ale you have consumed this evening or what debauchery you might have engaged in, but I suggest you avail yourself of the couch to sleep it off. The stairs will no doubt prove too much of a challenge in your current inebriated state."
"You were waiting up for me," Harry realized aloud.
"I was doing no such thing. Your less than successful attempts at stealth alerted me to your tardy return."
"I'll be damned. You were!"
"Hardly."
"Come on, Bob, admit it! You've been standing here all night long waiting for me to come home like I was a kid out past curfew or something."
"Really, Harry. Of course your safe return is of concern to me. You are my master and I but your humble servant," countered Bob with calculated indignation. "Nothing more." His expression became stern once more, brooking no argument as he pointed a commanding finger toward the couch. "Now lay down and go to sleep before your ale-befuddled brain conjures some other fanciful theory."
Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say-" He quirked smile at the old ghost. "--Dad."
Title: Sentinel
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 45. Stare
Word Count: 852
Rating: G
Summary: Harry is a bit late.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The first line of defense was relatively easy to breach - on the second try. The first attempt earned Harry a stinging jolt of magical energy that reminded him somewhat painfully of the counterspell's proper Latin pronunciation. Although he felt the wards fall, he still gave a mental sigh of relief when he was able to touch the tarnished doorknob without further injury.
His intent was to open the door just wide enough to slip inside undetected but the rusted metal hinges had other plans as they squealed in shrill protest. The sound was piercing in the early morning quiet, sending a stab of pain behind his eyes that earned a muttered expletive. Before he could blast the offending metal into pieces, the second line of defense launched its attack.
A monstrous ball of shadow-shrouded fur shot between his legs and wove itself around his ankles, throwing him off balance. Harry reflexively threw out a hand and caught the door jamb as he stumbled forward, barely avoiding falling face first onto the hardwood floor.
"Mrroooww?, said his assailant, saucer-round eyes glinting green-gold.
"Shhhhhhhh!" Harry hissed, firmly pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't-"
"MRRROOOWWRRR!!" The fur ball howled its disfavor and took a swipe at the hem of the wizard's leather duster with a heavy paw.
"Stop! Stop! Hells bells, Mister, do you want to wake the dead?"
"Too late," said a crisp, terse voice from the darkness.
Oh crap! "Now you've done it."
The cat replied with an arched-tail rebuke before stalking off in a huff, leaving Harry alone to face the third and most intimidating line of defense.
"Um…" said Harry eloquently. He lifted his hand and tentatively waggled a few fingers in greeting. "Hi?"
The sentinel regarded him with a rigid expression and blue eyes as frigid as an arctic sea.
"…Nice night?"
The eyes narrowed in response.
"I mean morning! Good morning." Harry shifted uncomfortably under that intense scrutiny. "I guess I'm a little late."
"A little?" The temperature in the room dropped several degrees in accompaniment.
"Okay, maybe more than a little." Harry's breath was suddenly visible in the newly frosted air. "But I've got a good explanation!"
"Do you so?"
"Yeah, I do."
"A damsel in distress?"
"As a matter of fact."
"Fearsome foes?"
"At least five."
"That many?"
"There could have been more," said Harry. "It was dark. I might have missed a few."
"I dare say that is not all that escaped you." Bob looked with pointed deliberation at Harry's duster.
The younger wizard followed his gaze and discovered a dried blotch of red on the worn leather. Before he could offer an explanation, the ghost reached out a pale hand and brushed the stain with spectral fingers. A faint chill accompanied a momentary glow of magic.
"I personally am unaware of any antagonist, living or dead, composed of marinara sauce and garlic."
"Would you believe it's part of a defensive spell against black court vampires?"
"No, I would not, and neither would you if fed the same tall tale," said Bob in terse rebuke. "It is of little consequence to me whether you spent the evening and early hours of the morning enjoying the antics of a wench or a pizza--"
"Both?"
"--but if you will insist on telling a falsehood when confronted, at least make it marginally convincing. It may one day save your life."
"Lighten up, Bob! It's not as if I've never been late before."
"Most assuredly true. However, the Council has never been at war with the Red Court before. You assured me that you would return before dark. It is now dawn of the next day. A message as to your whereabouts and wellbeing would have been appreciated."
Harry opened his mouth to snap out a wiseass response but something in the ghost's carefully guarded expression circumvented the impulse.
Bob seemed not to have noticed. "I have no idea how many bottles of MacAnally's ale you have consumed this evening or what debauchery you might have engaged in, but I suggest you avail yourself of the couch to sleep it off. The stairs will no doubt prove too much of a challenge in your current inebriated state."
"You were waiting up for me," Harry realized aloud.
"I was doing no such thing. Your less than successful attempts at stealth alerted me to your tardy return."
"I'll be damned. You were!"
"Hardly."
"Come on, Bob, admit it! You've been standing here all night long waiting for me to come home like I was a kid out past curfew or something."
"Really, Harry. Of course your safe return is of concern to me. You are my master and I but your humble servant," countered Bob with calculated indignation. "Nothing more." His expression became stern once more, brooking no argument as he pointed a commanding finger toward the couch. "Now lay down and go to sleep before your ale-befuddled brain conjures some other fanciful theory."
Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say-" He quirked smile at the old ghost. "--Dad."