The Dreadful Files: An Entirely Informed Fan Fiction of The Dresden Files

I am a wizard, I think to myself, pensively. And my name is Harry Dresden. Not like that Potter fuckwit; I am a wizard whose eyes work and whose height fluctuates wildly.

"Haz!" My lady-friend Priscilla stalks into the room, her mohawk brushing the top of the doorframe. Surprising, considering she's four foot tall. "Haz! There's some bad magic stuff happening!"

"Bad magic stuff?" I ejaculate wildly. "But that's the stuff that I deal with!" I whip off my towel and provide Priscilla with a few shakes that she applauds. "Just let me get my bad-magic-dealing-with stuff."

Tape, razorblades, pinwheels. All manner of bad-magic-dealing-with stuff, I shove it into my bum bag before throwing on my bad-magic-dealing-with clothes.

"Haz." Priscilla grips my bumbag and drags me close. "You're not fighting this alone."
"I know, my lady-friend-" I stroke her cheek and think of when we first met.

~

Fire rains from the sky as the shadow-henchmen rise from the ground. People are screaming, the sickly scent of toffee hangs in the air and I hold my bad-magic-dealing-with weapon forth before roaring at the infernal skies. "I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING!"

"You're supposed to be filing things, Harry." I turn and squint at the diminutive, mohawked woman. "And then I want to see you shake your thing."

~'

Priscilla breaks from me and turns to the door. "It's coming."

"What's coming?" I drag forth a pinwheel and set it spinning. "You haven't given me the slightest inclination of what's happening in this story."

"It's the Lark."

Her words stall me and I stare at the door. The Lark.

My Pinwheel will be no use against The Lark. I throw it to the side and rub my hands together feverishly. Good-magic-stuff grows with a crackling flare and I hunker down, bending my knees before aiming my palms at the door.

There's a knock. A single knock before a cold voice sounds. "I'm looking for the wizard man."

"I'm a wizard man!" I shout. "And I'll make you stop doing bad-magic-stuff!"

If the voice was cold, the laugh is pure ice. "Then let's do a fight."

The door bursts inwards, splintering down the centre before flying to either side in a cloud of wood chips. The Lark swoops into the room and hovers mid-air, watching me with beady eyes.

"Wait-" I stand and scratch my head- singeing my hair with the good-magic-stuff. "You're literally just a lark?"

"Foolish wizard!" It screams through the tiny beak. "I am the harbinger of doom! My wings, though petite, will beat the skin from your face!"

"Haz-" Priscilla turns to me, her pencilled eyebrows smeared. "It's just a lark."

"Didn't you see it before you came in here?" I lower my hand as The Lark begins to peck aggressively at my hair. "You said bad-magic-stuff was happening."

"Well yes," She watches as the tiny bird rages against my head. "But that's when I thought I had an idea of where this was going."

My hand wraps around The Lark's beating wings as I tear it from the air and bring it close to my face. "Who sent you?"

"The leader of the shadow-henchmen!" It screams, tiny claws flailing. "They want your lady-friend!"

"Fuck!" I throw The Lark and it bounces against my exercise bike before hopping toward the door. "Priscilla! My lady-friend! I will not let them have you!"

"Oh, Haz." Tears fill her eyes as she removes her mohawk. "I've charaded this charade for far too long."

As she begins to peel away her skin I whip out my phone and call Hector. "Get Mouse over here, now!"

Only moments later, as Priscilla removes enough skin to reveal a human-sized black cat standing on its hindlegs, Mouse arrives at the door. "What's doing Harry?"

"Look at her!" I scream, flinging my hand toward where Priscilla now licks her paw and smooths an ear. "She's a big cat!"

Mouse doesn't hear me, not as he steps into the room and stares at Priscilla. "My love?"

"Mouse!" She hisses. "You never answered my calls!"

"I couldn't!" He strides forward and wraps her in his furry forelegs. "I'm a dog! I don't have a phone!"

"What is the meaning of this?" I retrieve my pinwheel and set it spinning. "Mouse, she's wanted by the leader of the shadow-henchmen!"

"I know, Harry." Mouse shakes his head and looks to me with a sad smile that grows into a sinister leer. "And the leader of the shadow-henchmen is a dog."

The End