And I now have my favourite First Task attempt ever.

 

I just saw the new funny pic in "Funny Pics". Someone should issue a challenge about it, that'd be a really funny challenge.

 

I really tried to make something of this, but honestly? Its shite. Mad!Delusional!Ron just doesn't come out as well as I wanted him to.

Shadows of the Mind.

​

Ollivander's Wands est.382 BCE has been my home for decades now.

In a post-war-torn world, where magic is scarce and magic-wielders scarcer still, we few tend to gather around what solid fundamentals of it as are left.

That isn't to say we all get along. Blimey, no.

It was the Death Eaters who were stupid enough to incite the muggles into retaliation, and those left in the aftermath have become almost universally-scorned by the rest of us, but that's just the tip of the dragons snout.

Our society more or less fell apart, and what remains is mostly a number of tight-knit clusters, usually in twos and threes.

I was picked to lead this cluster simply due to my ties to Harry Potter.

Without the Chosen One, the remnants looked to his closest allies for support and protection during the first days and weeks after we recovered, and I guess it was the right choice given where we are now, but back then?

I was terrified out of my mind, anxious with grief and the desire to not screw the situation up any worse than it already was.

I'd always wanted that kind of recognition and support, you know? Kind of why I always played Quidditch back in school and... what do you mean you don't know what Quidditch is? Oi. Nevermind, I'll give you the basis of it later.

My point is that I finally had the reigns of leadership thrust into my grimy hands, the kind of power I had longed for in my youth, and I can tell you both then and now that I don't envy Harry any more- no one should have to shoulder that kind of weight without the proper training beforehand.

It's almost a miracle I didn't get us killed and - yes, yes, I'll explain what that means later as well!

How did you survive this long without any of this stuff, mate?

Well, you should have been there to see it. Hogwarts was wiped clean off the map, and Hogsmeade of course, and the panic and confusion sowed was catastrophic across the entire globe.

See, the muggle Prime Minister had just blown up a very large degree of territory not wholly his to, well, blow up. The other muggle countries reacted about as well as one might expect to that kind of force, and it kinda grew from there.

Oh, this you remember, but not what Quidditch is? Blimey, your mind's wired backwards.

Alright, you tell me what happened next, then.

Mm-hm.

Yeah.

Not quite, but yeah.

Hah! No.

Okay, okay. So you've got a good idea of the general facts, but you're missing a lot of other stuff.

Ollivander's is one of the earliest foundations of magic established in London, not Gringotts, and I was fortunate enough to lay claim to it well before another cluster could.

I still remember what it was like, trying to fortify the doors and windows to keep the others out- having to stay up half the day and night, sometimes going days at a time without hardly a wink of sleep, all the while aiming my wand back and forth along the main lines in case someone else tried blowing them in again.

Oh yes, that happened quite often. If it weren't for Luna's suggestion to transfigure them out of the way entirely, we'd probably still be warding off regular assaults instead of this... well, I don't like using the term comfortable existence, but at least we're markedly safer here than out there.

I remember shooting her down at the time, figuratively and not literally, mind you. That kind of talent was more Harry's field, or even... even Hermione's.

Shut it, I'll tell you whats wrong when I get to the rest of the facts, alright?!

...

Yeah. Yeah, she was.

Don't push it.

Alright, like I said, I wasn't really suited to the kind of spell work that would be required, so I initially told her no, but after weeks on end with minimal rest, she finally gave it a whirl herself.

It was spectacular, and chaotic, and just as effective at warning anyone else that they were interfering with the wrong location considering how dramatically it went wrong.

If you interrupt me one more time, mate, I'm hexing your bollocks off. You were the one that wanted to know how we got here, so unless you feel like taking a step outside again, I'll explain this in my own bloody good time!

Luna died in more or less the same way her mother did, but she went out pulling the main doors down on themselves in a cascade of twisted, garbled transfiguration.

Didn't I just warn you... alright. Alright, fair enough.

I took up transfiguration with a certain degree of furious determination and anger, and Colin did what he could to help. We eventually puzzled it out properly and barricaded the main ways, then set about to expanding the place into what it is today.

I'm actually surprised Colin let you in, to be honest, given our stance toward others.

Oh?

Right. Well, I suppose that's just as well. Four decades is a bit long in this place.

===

Roughly 850 words. I don't expect any approval for this, but I started the Challenge and I'm not going to shy away from posting it.

Eh, why not.

Shit Happens.

Have you ever gotten drunk enough to lap up your own shit? No? Good on you, mate. No, no, I haven't either, but I was hoping to see if maybe you might have a kind of similar situation, so we could relate on the matter in some way.

See, making bets when you can't even pronounce your vowels as well as Hagrid on a typical summer day, well, that's a recipe for botched Felix Felicis if I've ever heard of one, and there's always that great saying about hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Of what little Aberforth is willing to diverge, it was roughly a year ago. Me and Draco Malfoy happened to slam into each other in the Hogshead, and the little ass-eater got me roped into a round of reminiscence on our lives since Voldemort kicked it.

So many drinks later, we had our wands out, swearing magically-binding-oaths to fulfill the terms of some kind of mangled, barely comprehensible wager.

I fondly remember awaking with the distinct flavor of raw sewage coating my lips and tastebuds- kindly note the specific word choice, thanks - and it wasn't just a hangover gone particularly sour.

One way or another, the little douche swore me into transferring my tongue's sensory capabilities into my asshole.

Oh, funny, eh? Yes. Yes, I've gotten quite used to it, considering my diet consists solely of corn, being that its more or less indigestible and still has a flicker of natural flavor left by the time I can register it.

I thought Saint Mungos would be able to reverse the unfortunate situation, but see, those oaths we swore, they kind of wiggle down into your magic and latch on nice and tightly. Risking loss of magic just to get my tongue in working order again? Nah.

Like I said, corn. And heavy applications of fire whiskey. And about three medical potions a day.

I did get some payback, though, since I've heard he hasn't been able to get one up since that night, I'm happy to say. Well worth the tradeoff, that.

===

Roughly 350 words.
​

 

Awesome shit bro, just awesome.:awesome

 

A challenge please - I've checked the unanswered challenges and nothing there strikes my fancy, so something new and interesting, a cross maybe.

 

A New Challenger Has Appeared: Alive and Free

Length: 1000 - 2000 words

Line: "Fucking [INSERT UNIVERSE-REFERENCE HERE]! Can't even accept a Patronus Charm in this age without worrying about it concealing a curse!"

 

Ah ... should I mention that my familiarity with Halo is practically non-existent?

 

Maybe you can substitute the Halo reference with something else?

 

My sincerest apologies, and my DLP cherry is finally broken. Enjoy:

For a moment the Great Hall was nearly silent in shock, the sound of Moody’s eye spinning across the head table echoing throughout the room. As the Slytherin table slowly began to applauded their champion Malfoy rose from his seat, stumbling slightly in shock. His usually swagger gone, he approaches Dumbledore amid a sea of glaring faces and angry muttering. Hufflepuff house seemed ready to hex him into oblivion. A quick look at the head table proved to show that the teachers were not impressed. Snape had replaced his usual scowl with a look of great concern, and Moody was scratching his pock-marked chin, as if Malfoy was some great puzzle to solve. As Draco followed the other champions out a side door Dumbledore cleared his throat, suppressing the whispering and fledging rumours for the moment.

“Interesting.” Dumbledore called out. “We seem to have our three champions, and I hope that you all remember the intention of this tournament…”

Dumbledore had sensed his audience had been lost, and the reason was far from mysterious. Catching a fourth piece of parchment, Dumbledore read it looking ill with each passing moment. And this is when you knew that you were so very royally screwed.

“Harry Potter” he spoke out loud and clear.

Unfortunately, your response is just as loud.

“Shit.”

--------------------------OGME-------------------------OGME--------------------------OGME-------------------------

Dumbledore burst into the room, waves of confusion and anger radiating off the man. Thankfully it wasn’t all focused on little ole me, and Malfoy gave up his pitiful attempts at intimidating me to run to the far corner of the room like the twat he is.

“Harry,” he began, but was quickly interrupted by an infuriated potions master.

“How dare you attempt to steal Slytherin’s glory Potter. I swear I‘ll-” Snape spat out, only stopping when he realised Dumbledore was not happy with being interrupted at the moment.

“Perhaps Severus, we should check on the condition of Mr. Malfoy. I have a nagging suspicion his explanation won’t be quite so complicated.” Thank the gods McGonagall is on my side. Malfoy’s squirming and I’m trying my damnedest not to let my enjoyment show.

“Yes, Minerva, thank you for that. Now Mr Malfoy, did you put your name into the Goblet, or ask another student to put your name into the Goblet for you?” Dumbledore was giving the little shit his best ‘Don’t even think of messing with me’ look, and much to my pleasure Malfoy wasn’t handling it very well.

“No,” Malfoy squeaked out, obviously not enjoying being under this much scrutiny. Oh look, some of that confidence is coming back. “Someone must have put my name in to try and embarrass me. When my father hears about this there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you that is not the case. The Goblet can tell when a name that is entered isn’t written by the person entering it. It will ignore the name written and substitute it with the name of whoever attempted to misdirect it. It is the Goblets method of preventing abuse of its nature, and a punishment to those that would take advantage of it. Severus, is the writing on the paper Mr. Malfoy’s?”

“Yes,” Snape ground out, looking at Malfoy as if he really was that big of an idiot.

Malfoy wasn’t looking to well, remembering the previous night when he had written Harry’s name out and paid a seventh year to enter the name for him. His grand plan of humiliating Harry on an international stage, and hopefully watching him get eaten by one of Hagrid’s beasties, was not going how he thought it would.

“Well then, while I’m disappointed in you Mr. Malfoy, the Goblet had chosen. You will be Hogwarts champion.”

The smirk on my face die's instantly when Dumbledore turns around. He is not looking very grandfather-y right now. You’re probably screwed.

“Now Mr. Potter, if you could explain how we came to have four champions, this would be the best time to do so.”

Yep, defiantly screwed.

----------------------------OGME--------------------------OGME---------------------------OGME---------------------

As the level of anger and not so subtle death threats coming out of the Slytherin corner finally began to die down, Dumbledore send’s us all off to bed. I sense a half bottle of scotch is in that man’s immediate future, and am about to ask if I can join him when McGonagall grabs your shoulder.

“Follow me Mr. Potter, we need to have a word.”

That sense of screwedness is flaring up again, but trying to make a run for it will only make things worse. As you’re lead towards the tower you catch the briefest “-idiotic child, what were you thinking-”. You smile, knowing that the scolding you’re about to get isn’t anywhere near as bad as what Malfoy has in store for him. When McGonagall brings you into her office and the annual discussion of ‘who’s trying to kill me this time’ is out of the way you ask the question that’s been on your mind all night.

“Professor, why do you think Malfoy’s name came out of the Goblet. He’s nothing like what a champion was described to be?”

After a solid second of The Look, McGonagall answers. “While I’d press on you to worry about your own participation in this tournament Mr. Potter, I’d hazard a guess in that the Goblet ‘knew’ that Hogwarts would be represented by someone of worth in the end, and chose Mr. Malfoy to make an example of him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t attempting to enter your own name, Mr. Potter.” Surprising you with a more gentle tone she continues, “Be careful this year Harry, and try to exercise a bit of caution. Now, off to bed with you. I’m sure your housemates are waiting.”

The short walk to the tower gives you the minute you need to figure out how the hell you’re going to keep everyone in the castle from lynching you the second you walk in to breakfast tomorrow morning. Trying to find a way to blame it all on Malfoy would probably be easiest, given he’s the other walking target at the moment. Might just have to run with that. As the portrait opens and you’re pulled into the party you take solace in that fact that you won’t be the only one over his head in this tournament. Yea, misery loves company. Might as well enjoy it.

“Oi, how bout a kiss for the champion.”

Yep, gotta enjoy it.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Clocks in at 1050 in 3ish hours. Yea, told you it'd be crap. The scene break's are "Oh God My Eyes" which seemed appropriate considering that'll probably be the most common response to this.

 

Not bad for your first attempt. Couple of errors noted on tense;
began to applauded
applaud

His usually swagger
usual

he approaches Dumbledore
approached

Also, try using the alignment adjuster to the side of the bold, italic, and underline options in order to get your scene break more focused, rather than rely on --- to do the job.

 

A challenge for a newbie?

 

Challenger: AntHil

Length: 1000 - ???

Line: My sig quote

---------- Post automerged at 10:38 PM ---------- Previous post was at 08:25 PM ----------

It's not great but I wrote it. I also took Oruma's advice and substituted the Halo reference with an old story idea I had and abandoned. I wrote it before I noticed the change to the challenge.

Independents​

***​

“Fucking Innies! Can’t even accept a Patronus Charm in this age without worrying about it concealing a curse!” Captain Montague of the Pure Guard stared at the charred hunk of meat that had been his underling with a look of disgust on his face. “He should have known better,” he muttered.

Malfoy’s, he thought derisively, fucking idiots, the lot of them. He didn’t voice his opinion. The family was currently in favour, even though none of them showed more than a shade of the long dead Lucius Malfoy’s promise.

“What have you got?” he demanded of the Auror-in-Charge.

Auror Kensington, a fifteen year veteran with his eye on Head Auror, stiffened at Montague’s brusque manner and the lack of respect he thought it implied. “The curse was pretty standard for the Independents – a quick burning variant of your basic incineration curse tied into the Patronus Charm message. Answering the message set it off. My magical residue specialist says that the Faux-Patronus and the incineration curse were both Potter’s.”

Montague spared him an impatient look. “Which Potter’s? There were four of the bastards last time we checked and none of them are shy about knocking off loyalists.”

“The Potter.”

Montague exhaled loudly. The bastard himself – Harry Potter, resistance leader, self-styled freedom fighter, wanted murderer. Terrorist.

All round nasty son of a bitch who’d fought the legal government for as long as Montague had been alive and had resisted the Glorious Revolution before that.

Kensington nodded, his previous ill feelings forgotten for a moment. He felt a moment of pity for Montague. Harry Potter was a career ender. More than one Guardsman and Auror had seen a bright future disappear when they failed to find Potter. More than a few had been killed by him. His pity didn’t last long. He was just glad that the case wouldn’t be his. Unlike some Aurors who were convinced that if the Great Lord just gave the Auror Office a chance they’d have Potter cornered and trussed up within a week, Kensington knew his limitations.

In his opinion the best thing that the Great Lord had ever done for the Auror Office was to put all aspects of the Harry Potter manhunt under the authority of the Pure Guard three years earlier.

“Finish your scene investigation and pass your findings onto the Potter Taskforce.” Montague felt the beginnings of a migraine. He wasn’t on the taskforce but Malfoy had been one of his which meant he’d have to liaise with them and maybe even provide some of the manpower that they seemed to constantly need from his department.

Kensington snorted. “What’s there to investigate? Harry bleeding Potter killed the next Lord Malfoy, just like he killed the boy’s grandfather and a dozen other Lords and Heirs in the past five years. The only evidence you’ll find is what he wants you to find and when you follow it you’ll find him and some of his best waiting for you.”

Montague didn’t disagree with him. Worse, he knew how unacceptable that situation was. The Guard had suffered a series of defeats over the past nine months at the hands of the Independents all over the Realm. Seditious talk and activity was becoming bolder and more widespread and it couldn’t have come at a worse time. The Russians were massing on the eastern border while the Coalition of Nine, led by America, Canada and Brazil, had started making noise once more about the treatment of muggles in the Realm and the widespread use of dark magic. It looked like war and every man in the Pure Guard would be needed. They couldn’t afford the losses that Potter and his rebels were inflicting on them.

“Just do your job Kensington,” Montague snapped.

He spun on his heel, heading for the apparition point.

***​

Arriving at the Citadel Montague took a moment to survey the building that he had spent most of his adult life working out of. Doing so always reminded him of the great power that he served, of the nobility of the cause that he had dedicated his life to.

Constructed in the centre of London, it had been built upon the ruins of a palace that was said to have belonged to what had passed for royalty amongst the muggles. Tall and imposing the Citadel was the Pure Guard’s main base of operations – not just in London but in the entire Realm.

A statue of the Great Lord Voldemort dominated the entry courtyard, flanked on either side by smaller statues of dead heroes from the Glorious Revolution. There was Bellatrix Lestrange, killed by her blood-traitor sister and, of course, Lucius Malfoy, murdered in his own manor by Harry Potter. There was Augustus Rookwood, renowned magical theorist and spymaster, poisoned at an official function, and Theodore Nott, Montague’s childhood hero, who was killed while crushing the Berlin Uprising in ’23 while commanding a regiment of Guardsmen.

Montague hoped that if he died in the service that he did so in a manner that earned him a place amongst these heroes.

He entered the Citadel and had just passed through the fifth security checkpoint when the alarms began going off.

“What’s going on?” he demanded of one of the checkpoint guards when the man finished speaking into his communicator.

The man looked up, pale. “The war monument in Hogsmeade just blew up and an independent unit is in the village. How can this happen?”

Montague spared him a disgusted look. The boy had a rich family, he decided, people who could get him into the Guard but exert enough influence to keep him away any duty that might educate him in the realities of Potter’s insurrection. His disgust faded fast when his mind caught up with what the man had said.

Potter was attacking Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade, the village that the Third Company, his company, was in charge of protecting was under attack. Then he realised the significance of Malfoy’s death. He was watch commander for the day; his failure to show up had been what prompted the discovery of his murder.

“Fuck,” Montague muttered. He wasn’t sure how but he was certain that Malfoy’s death had somehow paved the way for Potter’s attack. He smacked a fist against his chest, ensuring that he was wearing his body armour, before turning around and heading for the apparition point.

A leader’s place was with his soldiers.

***​

Harry killed two Guardsmen with a swipe of his old holly and phoenix feather wand and spun, avoiding a curse from a shopkeeper, before killing the man. He felt no remorse at the deaths. It was war and in war people died. The ill-fated counterattack broke and retreated, leaving more than half the force dead or dying in front of his position.

His strike force, sixty strong, had overrun and occupied the southern half of the village, killing a half a dozen Guardsmen in the process, and was now entrenched, daring the defenders to dislodge them. The point of the mission was simple; kill as many Guardsmen as possible while sustaining minimum casualties.

“Sir, another two Guard companies just arrived and what looks like an entire shift of aurors. They’re forming up for the attack with the remnants of Third Company.” The report came from Harry’s second-in-command, a young Swiss wizard named Gustav.

Harry nodded and addressed his communications expert. “Tell Dennis and Bill to launch their attacks.” It was an old tactic, pin the enemy in one position and attack them in another.

Anticipation stirred in his aging body. His fifth column within the Realm had never been stronger and he had received pledges of support from the Russians and the Coalition.

“I’m coming for you Voldemort,” he whispered as the reinforced defenders advanced once more, determined to carry the day. “I’m coming for you.”

 

Mini Challenge for whosoever wants it:

Length: 1k
Time: 2hr
Prompt: Write me a canon-compliant short about a Light-aligned canon character of your choice who was actually working for the Death Eaters all along, and got away with it.

More than one can complete this. Points for creativity, feasibility and use of irregular canon characters.

 

OoOoO
​

Harry Potter and Sirius Black landed in a heap, hurled from reality by a dinky curtain. Harry groaned, sitting up and clutching his head. A quick glance to his right confirmed that yes, Sirius was alve, if just as worse for wear as he was. And also unconscious. Fucking brilliant.

A glance to his left revealed endless fields of healthy crops and blooming flowers. Harry took a moment to admire the strangely beautiful sight, and felt a warmth envelope him and chase his headache away. Reluctantly turning away he looked forward. Plain old plains. Ha.

Mentally slapping himself for his poor attempt at humor Harry chanced a glance behind him and froze in shock. He urgently poked Sirius who rolled over with a grumbled curse. That is until Harry's fist planted itself firmly in his stomach.

"Fucking hell Harry! What was that for?" Sirius asked angrily, curling inwards and coughing.

"Sirius. Look." Sirius followed Harry's finger and his jaw dropped.

They lay at the peak of a great hill. If the veil had thrown them any further they would have toppled over the edge and down to the wastelands below. And not natural wastelands either. Wastelands created from the harsh battles of man. Battles similar to the one going on at that very moment.

It was a sight to behold, truly. Beings of shapes and sizes Harry had never even imagined waged war below them, like one of those demented video games Dudley liked to play. Except this was painfully real. Blood of all manners of color and consistency was spilled on the dead lands.

"Merlin's staff." Sirius whispered, his tone hushed. Harry hadn't been a member of the wizard world for long, but he figured that particular term roughly translated to "Holy fucking shit" in muggle terms. So he just nodded in agreement.

After a while Siruis spoke up. "Well... we better go down and check it out." Harry turned an incredulous gaze on him. He watched in horror as a grin slowly appeared on his godfather's face. "Yeah, I've still got some adrenaline pumping. This should be fun!" Harry made to protest, but was cut off when a hand jerked the collar of his shirt forward.

And then they were falling. Sirius screamed a challenge and began pummeling the forces below with every curse he could spit out. While they were falling. Over a hundred feet to the ground. Harry bit out a curse and brandished his wand hurriedly. A quick banishing charm behind and below stopped them in mid-descent before shooting them back up in a slow arch. By this point Sirius' spells and maniacal laughter had gotten the attention of some enormous insects which closed in on them rapidly. Harry left them to Sirius.

He focused his attention on letting them get closer before repeating his actions, allowing them to gradually descend without being splattered all over the ground. On the fourth arch ten feet from the ground Sirius howled a banishing charm of his own, only this one propelled him faster towards the ground. Harry landed lightly on his feet in time to see the bullet that was padfoot slam into a lumber giant, knocking it on its ass and pissing on its face before racing away.

Harry sighed and disarmed a dwarf looking creature that had the gall to attack him. Harry Fucking Potter. And he didn't do it with an expelliarmus either. Idly smacking the whimpering creature with its own hand Harry looked towards the direction Sirius had gone, searching for any sign of the deranged animagus.

Shaking his head in exasperation Harry ambled forward, casually summoning his patronus which promptly began spearing everything in sight with its impressive horns.

It was just going to be one of those days.

OoOoO
​

Sirius tore through all sorts of magical creatures, snarling and barking like the dog he currently was in his attempts to kill everything in sight. Charging up to a deep blue giant of a being he leaped at its face, transforming at the speed of thought and crushing its skull with a point blank bludgeoning hex.

He jumped off as the grim once more and sprinted towards a 'man' with frosty looking blue armor in fierce combat with a pack of leafy wolves. Padfoot bared his teeth and leaped towards the back of the humanoid's neck, fangs flashing.

Only to be bowled over by a wave of invisible energy. Magic.

Quickly transforming back to his human self brought his wand up with a flourish, spinning a circle until he focused on a trench coat wearing man brandishing a staff covered in glowing runes. Sirius grinned nastily and belted a chain of spells at the man. He saw the man's eyes widen and he ripped the leather coat off his back and flung it out in front of him. Sirius watched in shock as it absorbed all of his spells and fluttered to the ground, unaffected.

The man, now donned in only a t-shirt thrust his staff out and shouted some gibberish that sent another wave of magic at the Black wizard. Sirius shouted as he was thrown backwards into a wave of battling creatures. He snarled a concussion spell, throwing away all those around him similar to the way he'd just been. He shouted at the man.

"Is that all you've got cowboy? Come and get some you western fruit!"

So he did. Sirius gazed up at the massive wall of fire heading his way in sudden trepidation.

"Well fuck."
​

OoOoO

Harry spent hours wandering through the battlefield, dropping opponents like flies with his superior magicks. Gradually his charms turned to hexes, and his hexes to curses. Now he snarled cutters and the like with extreme prejudice, ruthlessly cutting down both factions. The appearance of two for every one he cut down only infuriated him further, provoking him to dig deep into his knowledge of magic to slaughter them in the most gruesome ways imaginable.

Finally, a beautiful woman rushed forward to engage him, bouncing in impossibly pleasing ways. Or what looked like a woman at least. The expression of alien fury she wore told him that wasn't the case, so he brought his wand to bear, snarling at 'her'.

A twist of his wrist flung the strange green blade from her hands. An upward flick jerked her flailing body into the air, followed quickly by jagged cross drawn in the air that flung all of her limbs out wide. He relished in the all too human display of horror on its face. He pointed his wand.

"Crucio!"

And it shrieked in true, horrible agony. Everything within hearing range stopped, turning to stare in dead silence at the bound high fae warrior contorting in the air. After a full moment of deafening silence Harry let all of his spells go and the fae fell to the ground, unmoving. Harry looked coldly down. He raised his wand once more.

"Avada Kedavra."

The fae warrior jerked once, gasping in shock as the magic completely and utterly overpowered its own, smothering it down to nothing along with its. Then it lay still. Harry pensively tapped his wand against his crossed forearm. He moved his wand in a funneling motion.

And a black bear jumped out of thin air onto the corpse, devouring it ravenously. Harry nodded firmly and turned to face the multitude of shocked fae. He waved cheerfully. Winter and Summer fae looked at each other, mortal enemies from birth to death.

Then as one they descended on the madly cackling wizard.

OoOoO

Sirius groaned awake, holding his head gingerly. He felt around in the pitch black. He was on a cement floor and his wand had been taken. He sniffed the air on instinct. It was stale and dry. He called out cautiously.

"Hullo? Anyone there?" He heard shuffling from the corner of the room.

"Flickum Biscus." The room was lit dim by a flickering light hovering over the mysterious man's thumb. He'd reclaimed his trench coat and sat up against the wall, leaning on his knees. They stared at each other for a moment in dead silence. Until, finally: "Howdy partner."

Sirius couldn't decide whether he wanted to punch the asshole in his smug face or laugh until he cried. Maybe both. He chose to groan instead, to the laughter of the man.

"Sorry man, couldn't resist." He chortled, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. Sirius growled.

"Who are you and what the hell kind of spell was that wall of flame? Actually, what the bloody fuck was all of that back there?" The man thought about his question, idly transferring his flame from finger to finger.

"Well, to start, you can call my Sir Knight." Sirius rolled his eyes, but the man continued anyway. "'Back there' was the nevernever. It's sort of like a really big intersection. Except there are an infinite amount of lanes and angry drivers. And the lanes lead to different universes. It gets pretty hectic." Sirius puzzled over the strange analogy that nonetheless made sense.

"Wait. You didn't tell me about that spell." Sirius said, looking up.

"A magician never reveals his secrets." Sir Knight said, winking. Sirius returned with an affectionate gesture of his own. "Anyway! You happened to stumble upon a skirmish with Winter and Summer, and the bloodlust got the best of you. Happens to us all every once in a while." Sir Knight finished sympathetically. Sirius just looked at him, confused as hell.

Sir Knight sighed. "Summer and Winter are the two primary factions in the nevernever. They both balance each other out, preventing one from causing a global incident like an ice age or something along those lines. Bloodlust is actually something relatively new in our little pocket of reality here. The nevernever is a strange place for a human either way, but recently... Well, everyone's kind of high strung right now due to the wars. With all that tension in the air the nevernever's magic just sort of takes over and drives you crazy if you don't actively fight it." Sirius struggled to wrestle with this new information, leaning back against the wall. He was just starting to think about asking for his wand when he suddenly flew to his feet, crying out in horror.

"Harry! I left Harry!" He ran over to the startled man and yanked him up by his collar and yelled in his face. "We need to go back and get my godson! Take me back now!" Sirius' magic pulsed angrily, slamming Sir Knight against the wall and extinguishing the light.

"Your godson!? Hells bells, okay, give me a sec." Sirius waited impatiently, expecting to hear the opening of a door, instead he felt the air around him... shift. And suddenly he was looking at a man sized portal that showed the death and destruction he remembered partaking in on the other side. He dove through without a second thought.

"Wait! Don't you want your wand-? Son of a..."

OoOoO

Sirius emerged on the other side as the grim, on the same hill he and Harry's had first appeared on. He felt the bloodlust in the air, but similarly to a dementor's pull it was easier for him to resist in his animagus form. He felt a presence behind him and turned to see Sir Knight emerge, looking irritated. Transforming back he held out a hand, where his was was cautiously placed. Turning back he prepared to jump when a strong hand gripped his shoulder.

"Woah there! Let's find the kid before we jump into the fray." Sirius grudgingly started searching for his godson. Sir Knight inhaled sharply beside him. "Hells bells. Is that him?" Sirius eagerly turned towards where Sir Knight was pointing only for his jaw to drop.

It was Harry all right. And around a hundred horribly mutilated corpses. He'd long since dealt with the bottom tier warriors and was now facing off with half a dozen high fae of both Summer and Winter descent. His wand was a blur as he systematically parried and countered everything the ancient warriors could throw at him.

"They're working together, and he's still mopping the floor with them." Sir knight murmured. He turned towards Sirius. "What in the hell is he?" Sirius could only shrug hopelessly, having never seen his godson duel so viciously before.

"Is he laughing? Jesus." Sir Knight said incredulously. He suddenly squinted. "Son of a bitch." Sirius turned to him in confusion. "How long ago did you two get here?" Sirius opened his mouth but closed it again, eyebrows furrowed. Sir Knight sighed in frustration. "Wait, nevermind. We could have been out for days for all we know. God dammit. He looks way too far gone." Sir Knight ran a hand over his face. Finally he turned to Sirius and clasped his shoulder, looking at his face, but not quite in the eye.

"I'm sorry, but at this point he's way out of my league by the looks of things, and the Queens will be sending something to deal with him soon enough, if they don't arrive themselves to deal with him personally. He's done a lot of damage."

Sirius made an noise in the back of his throat that frankly scared the shit out of Sir Knight. "That's bullshit! We don't have to beat him, we just need to snap him out of it, like you did to me!" Sir Knight only shook his head sadly, pointing towards the horizon. Sirius began furiously cursing.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

OoOoO
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Harry twisted his wand, causing the last remaining fae that hadn't fled yet to wrap both hands around its head and twist savagely, breaking its neck. Harry began looking for more things to kill just as a sudden blistering chill fell over him. His gaze turned to the north.

Deep belly laughs erupted from the teenage juggernaut, before he waved his wand and sent up flares of red, alerting the oncoming presences to his location.

"Come on then! Come get me!" Harry hollered, pulling every happy memory he had to the forefront of his mind...

OoOoO

"Bloody Dementors?" Sirius asked, looking out over the battlefield. "I wind up in an entirely new world of magic, and some fucker has still managed to introduce Dementors to this plane of reality? Really?" He groaned. "There are so many of them..."

Sir Knight let the strange comment slide, instead focusing on the exact amount of the Winter creatures descending upon the speck that was Harry James Potter. "There have to be over a hundred. Seems a bit like overkill to me." He said slowly. Sirius sighed in relief beside him.

"Only a hundred? Phew." Sir Knight turned to stare incredulously at him, to which Sirius grinned. "Harry was dealing with that kid stuff years ago when I was still a murdering fugitive." Sir Knight took a breath but let it go, shaking his head. He turned to look intently at the field below. Something told him he'd want to see this.

It was a sight to behold. Harry erupted in light so bright it physically hurt Sirius and Sir Knight to look at it even from their impressive distance. The initial flash alone incinerated over a dozen of the creatures, and the resulting stag that bounded through the air proceeded to massacre the rest of them.

"Hells fucking bells." Sirius nodded in agreement.

Suddenly they were enveloped in a stifling warmth. Sir Knight turned sharply towards the direction it was coming from. "It seems Summer decided to take our boy a little more seriously. That's the Summer Lady and her knight coming this way." Sirius nearly choked at the prospect of even more powerful beings coming for Harry to fight.

In a flash of scorching heat a beautiful looking woman accompanied by a man carrying a monkey wrench appeared on the field, melting the snow around Harry in an instant. Sirius saw the boy waver on his feet and turned to Sir Knight in alarm. "What's happening?!" Sir Knight could only shake his head.

"She's overpowering him. Maddening rage and an ungodly adrenaline boost can only take you so far against the Summer Lady. He won't last much longer now." Sirius tensed to jump down and help his grandson in any way he could when a rumbling from the direction the dementors had come from stopped him cold.

"No way." Sir Knights eyes narrowed as he looked out. He groaned in disbelief. "Never one to let an opportunity go, huh?" He smiled mirthlessly. And before Sirius could ask him what the hell he was talking about a blizzard enveloped them, appearing out of what seemed like thin air.

"What the hell is this!?" Sirius roared over the rushing winds, well and tired of all the surprises the day had brought so far.

"It looks like Mab's decided to help your godson out. You can feel the power in these winds can't you?" Sir Knight shouted. Sirius nodded. "Well we're on the outskirts of it. Your boy is getting all of this power down there." Sir Knight shouted back. Sirius turned back to see that the lady and her knight were the only ones not covered in snow, but their circle of warmth was hardly bigger than three feet around.

Suddenly the man charged towards Harry, who seemed to be simply drinking in everything around him. The man lifted his wrench to crush Harry's skull, only to find himself paralyzed by glacial green eyes. A second later he was hit point blank with a wordless burst of magic and Winter that simply tore him apart.

"Jesus Christ. How much power did she give him? I might be out of a job after this." Sir Knight murmured, staring down as the Summer Lady shrieked in rage and launched a frenzied attack at the winter juggernaut. They began to trade blows in flashes of magic that quite frankly scared the hell out of him. He asked Sirius again. "What in the flying fuck is he?"

Sirius' lips were blue and horrible shivers racked his body as he looked down at the ungodly displays of power below. "He's the child of the prophecy." He said it so softly Sir Knight almost didn't hear him. He shook his head in exasperation.

"Fucking Brits." Sirius turned to look intently at him. He stuck out a hand.

"Sirius Black." Sir Knight eyed his hand and then the battle below. He shrugged. What the hell? He grasped his hand tightly and shook it once, favoring him with a grin.

"Harry Dresden, at your service."

OoOoO

AN: 700-1300 words? Ha! Try 3,186. Jesus fucking Christ.
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This is so wrong that I can't describe it. Go back and fix this.

 

What's your issue with it?

 

Well, unless being dead made some damage to his brain, Dresden would never, ever said his full name to a stranger.

 

That's the thing though. By the end of it Dresden is pretty damn sure he's about to die anyway. He's also pretty sure at this point that the magic Sirius and Harry use is a fair bit different than his anyway.

It was supposed to be a bit of black humor more than anything.

 

A good read overall. I don't see a problem with Dresden handing out his Name, given that Sirius just did the same thing.

 

I... want... MORE, Menace. MOREEEEEE!

Meanwhile, I agree somewhat - I'm not sure if Dresden would have given out his full name, though the point about the exchange does hold up under scrutiny.

Your description of the Winter Bloodlust is very, very clunky, imo... you might want to fix it up by omitting the Winter from some of the usages, or by referring to it with another name or something.