The Dresden Files / Bob / 41. Data
For fanfic50, cross-posted to dresdenfic.
Title: Second Nature
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 41. Data
Word Count: 657
Rating: G
Summary: Harry wonders about Bob's terrible crime.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Notes: Spoilers for Soul Beneficiary.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry had always wondered, of course. Had done since the moment they'd met, when his uncle had called forth the ghost of the dead sorcerer that Harry had mistaken for a genie. (Not that he'd ever met a genie before, so he could probably be excused for his confusion.) Thinking back, it seemed that Uncle Justin's tone had been almost gloating when he explained that the ghost who was to be Harry's new teacher had been condemned to spend all of eternity bound to his own skull.
"What'd he do?" Harry had asked, wary. And was he likely to do it again to, say, a strange new kid who had a tendency to ask a lot of questions?
In the end, Harry never received an answered. Uncle Justin hinted but never actually told him any specifics, and the dead and damned sorcerer in question did not volunteer the information. Such avoidances didn't stop a lonely boy with an active imagination from trying to guess or from visualizing all manner of horrors that might deserve such an extreme punishment. After all, 'eternity' was a really, really, really long time!
In his imagination, Harry envisioned Hrothbert of Bainbridge standing upon a rocky crag over a boiling sea, fierce winds whipping flowing black robes around his tall, lean form as he raised his staff to the night sky and summoned a Demon from the darkest realm! Or conjuring a fierce, fire-breathing dragon to eat fair damsels that looked a lot like Barbie dolls dressed in diaphanous white gowns.
During their afternoon magic lessons, Harry closely watched his mentor as if he could discover a clue to the terrible crime he'd committed by some tone of voice or random gesture. But his spectral teacher, while stern and often terse, did not present any evidence to enlighten his curious student.
As time passed, boy and ghost gradually grew to know each other better through close association. Harry's visions of a frightful, cruel sorcerer gradually shifted with his own perceptions of the teacher he now began to think of as Bob. Until, one day, without even realizing it, Harry stopped thinking about it altogether and accepted his teacher for who and what he was: often cranky with a sharp tongue and a sarcastic wit, demanding and harsh, but also encouraging, compassionate, and always willing to listen, no matter the hour of day or night.
But somewhere deep down inside, Harry never really forgot that Bob was a spirit condemned to hell on earth for some heinous crime.
It never occurred to Harry to simply ask Bob outright. Even as a grown man, when he was able to judge matters for himself without his Uncle's influence, he didn't broach the subject. Secretly, he really didn't want to know. More specifically, he didn't want the knowledge of Bob's ancient offense to color his perception of the teacher he'd grown to love as a colleague, confidant, and, yes, foster father.
Until now, when circumstances had finally demanded an answer.
Standing alone in the shop front of his small business, Harry continued to stare at the space where Bob had been standing only a moment before. He could still hear the ghost's explanation, the mournful words causing a heavy fist of anguish to squeeze Harry's heart.
Like nothing that Harry's imagination had ever conjured, the truth had been a shock and a revelation. Hrothbert of Bainbridge, one of the most powerful sorcerers of ancient times, had been executed and his soul damned to an eternity of servitude for … love.
Not a villain. Never a villain. A tragic, grief-stricken man who had risked everything to save the woman he loved with all of his heart and soul. Only to lose her forever; condemned to never be reunited in this world or the next.
"Oh Bob…"
Harry's fingers curled into fists as hot, angry tears misted his dark eyes. Why had he never thought to ask before now?!
Title: Second Nature
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 41. Data
Word Count: 657
Rating: G
Summary: Harry wonders about Bob's terrible crime.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Notes: Spoilers for Soul Beneficiary.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry had always wondered, of course. Had done since the moment they'd met, when his uncle had called forth the ghost of the dead sorcerer that Harry had mistaken for a genie. (Not that he'd ever met a genie before, so he could probably be excused for his confusion.) Thinking back, it seemed that Uncle Justin's tone had been almost gloating when he explained that the ghost who was to be Harry's new teacher had been condemned to spend all of eternity bound to his own skull.
"What'd he do?" Harry had asked, wary. And was he likely to do it again to, say, a strange new kid who had a tendency to ask a lot of questions?
In the end, Harry never received an answered. Uncle Justin hinted but never actually told him any specifics, and the dead and damned sorcerer in question did not volunteer the information. Such avoidances didn't stop a lonely boy with an active imagination from trying to guess or from visualizing all manner of horrors that might deserve such an extreme punishment. After all, 'eternity' was a really, really, really long time!
In his imagination, Harry envisioned Hrothbert of Bainbridge standing upon a rocky crag over a boiling sea, fierce winds whipping flowing black robes around his tall, lean form as he raised his staff to the night sky and summoned a Demon from the darkest realm! Or conjuring a fierce, fire-breathing dragon to eat fair damsels that looked a lot like Barbie dolls dressed in diaphanous white gowns.
During their afternoon magic lessons, Harry closely watched his mentor as if he could discover a clue to the terrible crime he'd committed by some tone of voice or random gesture. But his spectral teacher, while stern and often terse, did not present any evidence to enlighten his curious student.
As time passed, boy and ghost gradually grew to know each other better through close association. Harry's visions of a frightful, cruel sorcerer gradually shifted with his own perceptions of the teacher he now began to think of as Bob. Until, one day, without even realizing it, Harry stopped thinking about it altogether and accepted his teacher for who and what he was: often cranky with a sharp tongue and a sarcastic wit, demanding and harsh, but also encouraging, compassionate, and always willing to listen, no matter the hour of day or night.
But somewhere deep down inside, Harry never really forgot that Bob was a spirit condemned to hell on earth for some heinous crime.
It never occurred to Harry to simply ask Bob outright. Even as a grown man, when he was able to judge matters for himself without his Uncle's influence, he didn't broach the subject. Secretly, he really didn't want to know. More specifically, he didn't want the knowledge of Bob's ancient offense to color his perception of the teacher he'd grown to love as a colleague, confidant, and, yes, foster father.
Until now, when circumstances had finally demanded an answer.
Standing alone in the shop front of his small business, Harry continued to stare at the space where Bob had been standing only a moment before. He could still hear the ghost's explanation, the mournful words causing a heavy fist of anguish to squeeze Harry's heart.
Like nothing that Harry's imagination had ever conjured, the truth had been a shock and a revelation. Hrothbert of Bainbridge, one of the most powerful sorcerers of ancient times, had been executed and his soul damned to an eternity of servitude for … love.
Not a villain. Never a villain. A tragic, grief-stricken man who had risked everything to save the woman he loved with all of his heart and soul. Only to lose her forever; condemned to never be reunited in this world or the next.
"Oh Bob…"
Harry's fingers curled into fists as hot, angry tears misted his dark eyes. Why had he never thought to ask before now?!