Typical Haunt

Chapter 1: Preludes and Nocturnes

Danny Fenton had been through a maelstrom for the last two years, and had the scars to prove it.

It was mainly the influx of ghosts that had opened up several cans of worms for Danny Fenton, not the least of which was his family's Ghost Portal, which was responsible for his ghostly alter ego. That had been an experience all by itself, one that he didn't like remembering. The only feelings he could conjure up in response were made of pain and fear. It remained one of the top three worst experiences of his life.

This was significant, in that over the last few years his life had been filled with nothing but bad experiences. Good ones slipped in there once in a while, yes, but he'd be lying through his teeth if he had said they made up the majority.

He was thinking about this depressing fact while sitting in a hospital, a familiar hollow feeling that he now equated with defeat permeating his soul. Danny wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. He'd made Jazz sleep on the hard, uncomfortable chairs beside him. She had gone down fighting, murmuring something about being the responsible one, or whatever. Danny had ignored her politely, kept his head down, and awaited the news that was far too long in coming.

What had happened? He couldn't recall much, except for the fuzzy memory of the policeman with his hat in his hands, standing at his family home's front door. The words the officer had spoken echoed uselessly inside his skull, and he could barely scrounge up what his own response had been. Jazz had taken over then; she'd been standing behind him, her hands to her mouth. She had given a small, terrified gasp of realization – he remembered that much at least.

The doctor came out into the waiting room. She was the one who had talked to them when they first got there, and Danny remembered the shine of her older green eyes. After the mask was removed from her face, Danny could see her expression, and he didn't like it. As soon as she came into view, all hope dropped out from the bottom of his stomach, vaporizing into little bits of despair.

She was in front of him now, saying things. He heard them, but didn't understand. Jazz was awake now – he had shaken her into consciousness – and he saw the bright tears flowing over the nooks and crannies of her face. She was hiccupping and clutching his arm so tightly it felt numb.

The doctor paused, then whispered, "I'm so sorry for your loss," and left them there, alone.

It was a few hours later when Danny finally realized that his parents were dead.

"Your aunt can't take you," the Social Services Man (i.e. David Fong, long-suffering government official) said with some annoyance. He was sitting at a small desk in what amounted to a break room for the nurses on this particular floor. David shifted his gaze from his papers and back to Danny. "She's been off the grid for nearly a decade, and can't be reached for the time being…which is too long for these procedures – we need you put somewhere safe immediately."

"We're safe here," Danny said mulishly. He was staring at the painfully gray desk like it held the answers to all his problems.

"I doubt that," the man said, looking at Danny with sympathy. Don't give me pity, don't don't don't. "This city has a very serious problem with – I can't believe I'm saying this – ghosts. We can't leave two minors to their own devices." There was a shuffling of papers. "I don't want to separate you from your sister, but if we can't find at least a temporary guardian to take both of you at once, then we might have to."

"I'm not leaving Jazz," he said, in the same obstinate, dull tone of voice. Danny doubted he'd heard anything remotely emotive come out of his own mouth for the last few days.

David didn't look very accommodating. Instead, he looked weary – like he was used to this. "I'm just warning you; that is a likely possibility." He looked wary. "I'm not good at sugar-coating. You're probably wondering what I'm doing in this profession; but I do care about what happens to you kids. I always felt that the truth hurts, but it also tends to help more in the long run." He eyed Danny intently. "Can you handle this?"

"Yeah," Danny answered automatically. He didn't mean it, not yet. But he felt it was his turn to give some kind of assurance.

The man didn't quite frown, but he looked away. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you two together. I promise."

It was the first time in several days that Danny felt affection for anyone outside of Jazz.

"Thanks Mr. Fong."

Sam and Tucker hadn't been allowed to visit for nearly a week. Danny wasn't sure if he was grateful or angry for that, but he figured it was deemed 'not right' to expose him to anymore 'traumatic' experiences – according to the adults in charge.

How close friends fell under that category, Danny would never know.

Jazz was with him all the time now. She never left his side unless they were forced apart. And there she sat, smiling at his friends as they gave him their comfort. They had been exhausted just trying to get an audience with their best friend. Something isn't right about that, he thought dully.

"What are they planning to do?" Sam asked, sounding as hollow as Danny felt.

"We don't know. Our Aunt Alicia is the only close relative we have – and she's impossible to contact." Jazz grimaced. "Frankly, even though it would have kept us together," she grinned at Danny. "I don't think we would have liked it very much."

"No," Danny found his own smile and brought it out for a little bit. "We wouldn't have."

There was a brief silence, wherein a singular thought resounded inside Danny's head and made him bitter. Why can't we stay here? With friends – the people I know…. His heart clenched, and he hid his eyes from view.

"I'm kind of surprised Vlad hasn't tried adopting you guys." Tucker looked ill while he voiced his curiosity, obviously afraid that the crazy billionaire had already signed the remaining Fentons' respective souls away. Another reason for his unease was due to his being in a hospital – a place that held only bad feelings for him on the best of days. Danny was grateful his friend hadn't simply decided to fall into a stupor the minute he walked in the door.

"Oh he has," Danny said, voice gaining a darker edge that actually made Jazz wince.

"Social services aren't letting him near us until they've found relatives to take us in; both of us, together," his big sister finished.

Sam murmured. "I can't – he can't have you guys. I don't want to think about it; just imagining it makes me sick."

"Tell me about it," Jazz said firmly.

Danny remembered hearing the older version of Vlad's voice in his head, telling him the story that led to the creation of something far more terrible than he could have ever imagined. He shivered and forced down the thoughts. He had Jazz. He had Sam, and Tucker. He was never, ever, going to turn into…that. He'd promised.

Jazz noticed his discomfort, and tried to find another topic. "Our representative said they might've found a nephew of a cousin of our mom – yeah I know how that sounds," she said, watching the expressions on the other three brighten and subsequently dim.

"It sounds thin," Tucker said, not very convinced.

"It might, but we'll have to wait for him to show up. David Fong – that's the social services guy – isn't letting us out of the hospital until he finds someone better than Masters," she said with a slightly evil grin. "He doesn't think too highly of our Uncle Vlad. Our – the doctor doesn't think he's all that great either."

The four kids laughed lightly, easing out of their respective sorrows for a little while.

"I just hope he takes us," Danny spoke up, surprising the rest of them. "I mean. At this point, he's got a pretty good chance of being a better caretaker than Vlad. Just thinking about the odds of it all," he continued after watching their faces go slack with amazement. "I mean, Vlad's pretty bad. But what are the odds that our …er…Mom's cousin's nephew, will be worse?"

It wasn't like he hated the man already. Goodness knows he wasn't going to judge someone he hadn't even met. But on a scale of good to utterly terrifying, Vlad was off the rails and heading into nightmare territory. Harry Dresden, just by being a (possibly) normal human being, was already ahead of the game. Danny thought about it with grim realism. He'd rather be stuck with a person like Dash – who was the everyday Joe sort of jerk – than be within twenty feet of Vlad Masters.

In that quiet moment of contemplation, all of them agreed: it was definitely a long-shot.

Harry Dresden stood in front of the hospital, feeling a great many things at once. He looked up and then glanced back down at the slip of paper in his hand.

He had relatives, distant though they were. That fact alone was world-shaking. He hadn't known there were more branches to his father's family tree. He remembered the moment he discovered that Thomas was his half-brother; that dizzying feeling that somehow managed to be hopeful, horrified and relieved all at the same time. That same feeling began to churn unpleasantly in the middle of his stomach as he continued to stare down the hospital. Family was an alien concept until nearly a year ago. Now he was up to his elbows in it. He supposed he should be more grateful for having relatives, but under the current circumstances, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling.

Jasmine and Daniel Fenton had lost their family, and were currently in the care of Child Services. Some guy named David had given him a call, telling him about the tragic deaths of Madeline and Jack Fenton, and the unfortunate situation regarding their remaining children. He had called Harry because of the fact that there were really only three candidates for the position of guardian. One was out of reach entirely; another wasn't related to them but for the tenuous grip of family friendship. The last one on the list was Harry himself.

This David person had sounded entirely unenthused about the second applicant. While he had been talking with a rather shell-shocked Harry, he had described the other 'parental contender' as a man he wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. He was a man with enough wealth and influence to get precisely what he wanted, when he wanted it. David didn't agree with the man's attitude, the main problem being that this Vlad character seemed to regard the Fenton kids as property to be reclaimed, rather than taken care of.

Luckily for David, Harry didn't like guys who thought of people as possessions either. It was the main reason he was here.

The thought struck him, and he sighed in a small act of self-deprecation. Hells bells, what was he doing here? He wasn't a fit parental, well, anything – he could barely look after himself and Thomas. The Chicago Police Department barely paid enough for him to take care of himself. There was also the tiny issue about the big red targets he had stuck to his back. They had been put there by a veritable menagerie of evil folk, ranging from demons to vampires, to normal, malicious human beings. Life with Harry usually meant living dangerously, or not at all. He was tired of losing people he cared for – in any form. It was almost selfish, but he didn't want anyone else in his life to worry about.

As well, there wasn't much room in his life (or in his apartment) for anyone else. Mouse could take up an entire bedroom by himself. Mister wasn't exactly giving when it came to space either.

And Thomas…. Well. That was whole other can of worms.

In addition to the situation that had fallen into his lap, there was a lingering sense of fear and irony about where he currently was: Amity Park – a town that was at first labeled as 'insane,' but then later affirmed when it completely disappeared off the face of the planet briefly last year. Apparently, the whole city was haunted; by ghosts (according to journalists) or monsters, Harry wasn't sure. He'd never done much research on the subject; he'd had only been following the news to get his information. He was more invested in his own city – and hadn't had a decent break from it for so long he'd forgotten there were other cities in the United States.

One thing was certain – this was a town where the veil of reality had been completely discarded…yet everyone went on living their lives in relative sanity. People here apparently viewed their changed world with severe indifference, possibly for good reason. Crime was still crime. If it was perpetuated by monsters or human beings, it didn't matter all that much. The end result was the same.

To Harry, this was truly bizarre. Where was the indignation, the denial? It was habitual for the people of Chicago (and most everywhere else) to dismiss anything out of the ordinary as a freakish one-time deal, possibly created by hallucinatory drugs or limited sobriety. They never even considered that perhaps, myths and legends were true. Harry, as someone who could technically fall within the 'myth' category, took mild offense when he had first started out, but the feelings eventually petered into a mild, but well-controlled sense of frustration.

Of course, the main reason he no longer traveled was because of his magic. It happened to interfere with every electronic device in existence. The more recent the invention was, the more likely it was to fail. He'd gotten to Amity Park by train, as trains – thankfully – were still mostly mechanical in nature. Even if electricity was involved, the sheer amount of kinetic energy generated by a moving train could outdo Harry's glitch-abilities in a heartbeat.

He sighed again. It had been a foolish leap to take, especially with his hand still thoroughly burnt and unusable. Harry tried to gently move his fingers and felt a bone-deep ache stretch along his joints. Dismissing his own pain, he remembered the reason why he had pulled that stunt in the first place – and immediately felt better.

Harry contemplated the hospital again, and decided it was better to be safe than sorry – even, no, especially if it made him look like an eccentric. He was far from normal anyway, so why bother trying to hide it?

"He wants to meet you outside at a nearby coffee shop instead of the hospital," David instructed, flipping his cell phone shut with a decisive click. He looked perplexed but quickly shook it off. "Though I don't know why he does, it'll be nice to get outside for a while. I'll be accompanying you, of course – I highly doubt you two want to stay in here any longer than you have to."

Both Jazz and Danny nodded fervently. Sam and Tucker had tried to visit every afternoon, but that didn't change the fact that they'd been stuck in the hospital for almost two weeks. With any luck, they'd never see another hospital ever again. "What was his name?"

"Harry…um. Hang on." David pulled out a file about as thick as a summer novel. Danny stared at it with trepidation. "Ah, here we go. Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden." There was a pause. "Trust me, he's a lot more normal than he sounds."

"Well, one can only hope," Jazz muttered, looking as apprehensive as Danny felt. "What does he do?"

Here, David quieted. He pressed the 'L' button for the main floor of the hospital. As the elevator descended, Jazz's face turned into a veritable artist's palette of disapproval. "Mr. Fong?"

"Well, according to the public records, and his own admission," David sounded very reluctant to continue speaking (Danny could relate; Jazz was the immovable object to anyone's opposing force). "He's a Wizard." You could hear the capital letter. The man laughed a little in disbelief. "In fact, I think he's in the Chicago phonebook."

"Seriously." At this point in time, Danny didn't think he would have been able to find his more quippy side until months from now. But lo – there it was. "A wizard?"

"A working one – he's more of a private investigator for the Chicago P.D's Special Investigation unit. I did look into it further, you know," he recovered, his tone somewhat hurt. It was obvious he didn't believe the 'wizard' part of Mr. Dresden's job description, but he went along with it for the sake of the Greater Good. "You think I wouldn't see his occupation and not freak out a little bit?" he grinned.

"Too late," Danny said, eyes rolling in a very teenager-esque fashion.

David actually smiled genuinely at him. "I like him better than Masters," he said, completely honest. "Despite his obvious eccentricities, this guy seems to mean well. He came to you," he reminded them. "Play nice." It obviously wasn't normal for David to get so attached to his temporary wards, but these two seemed less angst-ridden (beyond the norm, of course) for your average teenager. It was refreshing to work with them, in spite of the awful circumstances.

Jazz and Danny shared a look that spoke as many volumes as an entire encyclopedia set. David decided not to comment further.

"Where are you? I've been calling for hours. We have a small case – nothing big, but I thought you'd appreciate the chance to earn some actual money for once."

"I thought all my best work was pro bono," Harry Dresden said into the receiver, and was unfortunately being honest. Almost all of his biggest cases – the ones where his life was threatened, or his friends' lives were threatened, or the world was threatened… well, he hadn't gotten a cent for his hard work. Harry cursed his noble, high-minded savior personality. If only the dark side had cookies that weren't poisoned.

"Ha," Lieutenant Karrin Murphy snorted through the other line, apparently not amused. "But still. You didn't mention you were going out of town."

"Not that far out of town," Harry said, becoming a little more wary of the upcoming topic of conversation. But he had to consult somebody – he had no clue how to really handle this. "Murphy, I got called to Amity Park."

He could hear the Significant Pause. Murphy spoke up. "Of course you did. Why?"

The woman could ferret out a Saint for his transgressions. It was why she was so good at her job. Harry, being of a naturally honest demeanor, didn't stand a chance. "Well, oddly enough, it has nothing to do with the town itself." He blew out a quick breath of air, making a harsh crackling sound through the phone. "Murph, I've got relatives. Distant relatives, but relatives nonetheless."

"Long lost siblings?" Murphy asked. Even if she sounded skeptical, she also sounded concerned. That was how she rolled, Harry thought wryly.

"More like …er, cousins. Well, I'm apparently the nephew of a cousin of their mother. Don't know if the English language has a name for that particular relation."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't." She now sounded perturbed. "Now, back to my original question: why are you there? Please tell me it isn't a reunion."

"Unfortunately, no." He recalled Murphy's own family reunion with both pleasure and distaste. Harry picked up the information he had been mailed. There were detailed descriptions of the kids' previous living situation, their grades, finances and general academic status, everything a computer needed to know to weigh out a person's life. Harry knew that none of this stuff would measure up to a real human being. "Their parents just died. I'm here because they asked me to come – apparently, I'm the only living family member left who has a phone; therefore, I'm the only available legal guardian."

Murphy's silence held a special amount of disbelief. If he had said that he'd gone insane and was considering mass genocide, he wouldn't have gotten incredulity to this degree. "You're adopting these kids?" she asked him, in a very quiet, serious tone.

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing here, really. I just – I can't leave kids out in the cold like that. And they're family."

"Harry," Murphy said slowly. "The Police Department pays you at a rate that I happen to be very aware of. It's low. Exceedingly so. You can't support two kids. You can barely support yourself."

"Oh, and how I know it," Harry drawled. "The agony of my existence eats at me every day. Literally. My stomach lining has probably already digested itself by now."

"Damnit Harry, I'm being serious. You don't know very much about kids," Murphy was on a roll today; her voice was getting louder by the word. "You're short on funds. You have several dangerous enemies who could strike at any time. Despite the fact that they don't know any of this, it would be irresponsible of child services to send them to you because of your circumstances."

"Glad to see I still inspire confidence," he said, sounding only slightly annoyed. "You think I haven't thought about all of this?" He rubbed his staff between his thumb and forefinger in a somewhat jerky movement; a nervous tic. "I just want to see how I can help." The thought of legally adopting them hadn't crossed his mind, but it was starting to eat away his confidence in the situation. "Maybe I should give Michael a call."

"Maybe you should. He's the only person you know who currently has children. If anything, he'll tell you exactly what he thinks of your situation." The disapproval in her voice was still there, but Murphy's tone had softened considerably. "I'll be waiting when you get back. Hopefully soon." And alive was left unsaid.

"Now I feel really loved," Harry smirked. He put the papers back into their neat manila envelope with one hand and felt his worry increase as he eyed the clock on the wall. "See you in Chicago, Murph."

"Don't do anything stupid, Dresden," she warned, and hung up quickly.

Harry kept himself huddled over the payphone, avoiding the gazes of the people in the small café. This was hard to do, being that he stood out in almost every way possible. He sighed fondly at Murphy's attitude and fumbled in his jacket for another 50 cents, popping them into the machine as swiftly as he could.

Ring! Ring! Ri-

"Hello, you've reached the Carpenter's House of Pain; how may I serve you? Broiled, or flambéed?"

"Hello Molly," Harry tried not to laugh into the phone. It would upset his Jedi-like decorum. "Is your dad around?"

"Harry!" she said, squealing in a manner that made Harry wince. "Uh, sure. Um. Hang on." He heard the soft, dainty patter of big combat boots echo away. A slightly deeper voice bellowed something obscured by static, and all he could hear was 'and get back here young lady!' – he assumed that was Charity; Molly's mother. Before he could speculate further, the man he'd been trying to reach picked up the phone.

"Harry," Michael Carpenter spoke in deep, rich tones. It only accentuated his personality. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The entire Carpenter clan was made of good folk. Michael in particular. He was one of the three Knights of the Cross; a group of people chosen by God (with a capital 'G') to fight evil and defend the innocent with one of three Swords. Each one was different in make, but similar in that they each had a nail of the Cross (yes, that one) imbedded in their respective hilts. Harry currently held one of those swords in reserve – Fidelacchius – for Faith; Michael wielded Amoracchius, the sword that represented Love. Harry may have had a large amount of what he liked to call 'blunt force magic' at his disposal, but it was worth squat in comparison to a Knight and their Sword. In the truest sense, the Swords reduced magic's profound influence, and were capable of nullifying or destroying it completely.

But a Sword was only as good as the one who held it; Michael was one of the best people Harry knew. Guided by faith (but rarely driven by it), Michael was a true force for Good and God alike. And he usually was the angel on Harry's shoulder, much to Harry's oft-displayed irritation.

"I've got an interesting moral dilemma on my hands," Harry said, overtly casual.

"You know how I love moral dilemmas," Michael said in a tired voice.

Harry did laugh this time. "Long day?" he queried.

"One of the longer ones," his friend responded. "But nothing we can't handle." There was a pause. "Molly was skipping her summer school classes. After her mother finishes chewing her out, it will be my turn. I suppose I can use righteous indignation as a form of guilt-trip," he added thoughtfully.

"Ah," Harry said eloquently. "Right. You know, on the subject of kids, I have a couple of new relatives."

There was a horrified silence. "Clarify for me, if you please. You have…children?"

Harry took a moment to think about what he had said, and blanched. "Er, no, no. They aren't mine. Their parents just passed away. I'm up at Amity Park right now, going to meet them in thirty minutes or so. Apparently, I'm the only remaining family available, so they're asking me to be their guardian, and I'm really not sure what I'm doing here, and there may or may not be adoption involved." He spewed this all out in a matter of seconds, quite a few of the words running together.

"Oh my."

Harry tried to resume speaking in a normal manner. "I called Murphy. She said it might be a bad idea, considering I'm a huge walking target, and these are teenagers – plus the fact that I have no idea how to raise kids or anything. Oh, and the fact that I'm practically broke for approximately three hundred days out of every year."

"You know how to handle children, most of the time." He could hear Michael smiling through the phone. "You've been around mine long enough to know how they operate. Don't sell yourself short."

Harry took a minute to figure out what he wanted to say. "I want to help, but I honestly don't know if I'm the right person for the job," Harry finally managed to spit out, feeling the tiniest bit guilty for admitting it.

Michael was silent. Then he coughed and replied, "I understand your concern, Harry. But I must ask you, what do you want to do? Help is something of a broad word in this circumstance."

This was his main problem. After he said nothing for a longer than was normal, Michael interrupted his thoughts. "If you are having doubts about your competence as a parent, let me be the first to tell you that you aren't the first – and you certainly won't be the last. I am a parent, and I still question my own parental aptitude." Michael took a breath, and continued. "You are perfectly capable of taking care of these children; your ability to step up and claim responsibility is one of the nobler aspects of your character. I would like nothing more than to see you grow with your charges. If things manage to spiral too far out of your comfort zone, you know that we will help you – no matter how many times Charity tries to dissuade me." He paused. "On that note, she may be more than eager to help, seeing as she hasn't quite warmed up to you the way the rest of us have."

Charity hadn't liked him since the day they first met. She refused to communicate with him using any other emotion other than disdain or severe dislike. Hate didn't come into the equation, because Michael still genuinely liked Harry, and her children did as well. But it was obvious she didn't trust him. Harry had assumed it was because whenever he came into the picture, Michael managed to sustain heavy damage in one way or another. In truth, the reason behind that distrust was something he never discovered. He figured she would tell him in time, and happily resisted pushing the issue.

"True," he said wryly. Then the weight of Michael's words started to make him sag. "You really think I can do it? What if they…."

He didn't want to say it, but his reservations about meeting those kids were really messing with his head. It wasn't like he normally thought about adoption and long-lost relatives every day; these sorts of things usually happened to other people. Until recently, Harry bemoaned.

"What if they hate me? What if they think my… profession, is too hard to deal with? I don't want to put them through that."

"You said you were in Amity Park, correct?" Michael asked. Harry made an affirmative noise, and Michael continued smoothly. "Well, then I wouldn't worry about it. I imagine you've read the news."

"Yeah," he looked at a billboard across from his own personal payphone, and blinked at the 'Anti-Ghost Hotline!' number that was plastered all over it. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"Then they must be used to the strange and unusual. Introducing your job as a wizard can't be too far out of their comfort zone."

"Well, then what about my enemies?" Harry countered. "They could get killed just being around me. How can I possibly prepare them for that?"

"You can tell them the truth," Michael was soft in tone, but he was firm on this point. "Don't bother hiding your true self from children, Harry. It usually ends poorly for everyone involved." He chuckled. "Not to mention the fact that you're in the phonebook."

"True," Harry agreed mulishly. He wasn't exactly keeping his identity a secret to anyone; why should these two kids be any different?

"It will be up to them to decide if they want you as their guardian. Temporary or otherwise." Michael's line was suddenly filled loud crashing noises. "And that would be my cue," he sounded amused anyway. "Harry, I have always considered you an honorable man for doing the right thing when it is quite fashionable to be wrong," he continued after the loud clanging subsided briefly. "Trust your instincts. God has a way of letting things fall into place."

"Right," Harry said skeptically. In reality, he felt far more assured. "So, be myself," he said, sarcasm radiating through his words, no matter how much he actually meant them. "Thanks Michael." This time, his words were truly genuine.

"Anytime Harry." Another crash and Harry could have sworn he heard Michael wince. "You will make the right choice."

Click went the phone as Harry hung up. A moment of inner monologue, and his hand went searching around in one of his duster's several large pockets. The file he produced was relatively small, but it was all necessary reading in regards to the lives of the two kids in question. He moved back towards the front of the store, plopping down in one of the flimsy outdoor chairs, and let the pile of documents fall from his hands to hit the table with an ominous thump.

Time to get to work, I guess.

The three of them spotted the now infamous Harry Dresden almost instantly. The long, engraved wooden staff was a rather large clue.

So was the trench coat.

And the hat.

The man was sitting as far from the cash register as he possibly could – which was why he was outside, under one of the useless giant umbrellas that were usually open when it was neither rainy or sunny. He sat in a slumped position, reading over what appeared to be a pile of paper. Muttering, he turned over a page, before completely freezing and raising his head.

David waved genially. "I take it you're Mr. Dresden?"

"That's right," Harry said, though he sounded wary. Then he cleared his throat and smiled casually. "At your service." He looked to Danny and Jazz, and they could see he was nervous as all heck.

Jazz smiled and shook her head. "My name is Jasmine Fenton, but everyone calls me Jazz. This is my little brother, Danny."

"Don't call me Daniel," the raven-haired teen said, with an easy grin. "I'm kinda picky about my name."

Harry looked a little impressed. The man scooted their chairs closer and gestured for them to sit down. He looked directly at their foreheads when he continued. "I'm very sorry for your loss – and I'm sorry that you'll probably be hearing that phrase for quite some time to come. Believe me when I say it, though. I know how you feel."

Jazz's expression took on a haunted look. "What do you mean?"

"I lost my parents too, though not at the same time," Harry admitted. He didn't look comfortable talking about it, but the words flowed easily. "It happened a long time ago," he said when Jazz and Danny started to open their mouths in an attempt to utter an apology. "So no worries."

David, at this point, decided to interrupt. "I'll go over the details with all of you, of course. But for now, I would like it if the three of you were left to your own devices. Oh, I'm not leaving," he said quickly when Harry Dresden's face froze. "I'll be over a few tables. You let me know if this arrangement is even workable, and then we'll talk further. Mr. Dresden," the man stood and shook Harry's right hand. "I appreciate you coming."

"Like I was going to say no," Harry said, smiling a little. He shook back firmly and watched David leave before returning his attention to the two remaining occupants of the table.

"So," Danny started cheerfully, jumping in feet first because otherwise the rest of the conversation would inevitably turn awkward. "You're a wizard."

Harry groaned.

"Oh it's not like that," Jazz said, and nudged Danny in the ribs. He winced and rubbed his side as he shot her a dirty look. "We're used to weirdness around here, as you've probably heard." She looked relieved. "We were worried you'd be too …uncomfortable to come here." Danny's nod echoed her words. They were used to tourists openly mocking the citizens of their town. The Fentons especially, if only because they had stood out from the norm in every fashion known to man (and ghost).

Danny wasn't sure how this Dresden guy would react to the town, or to them. But he wasn't expecting the bark of laughter that cut into the clear summer air. "Oh trust me. I'm plenty used to things like that." The sardonic tones were worthy of Sam, Danny thought with some surprise. "I am a wizard yes. It's my business, and does not include party tricks, love potions, or anything like that. I…sometimes consult with Chicago P.D's Special Investigations department."

Danny blinked. "We heard something similar from Mr. Fong," he said, unsure, but interested. In truth, when he was first confronted by the 'Wizard' description, his thoughts were primarily along the lines of 'are you kidding me?' But the idea was no crazier than being a ghost hunter for a living. While that wasn't an accurate description of his parents' profession, it was what they had usually called themselves. If Danny wasn't used to crazy by now, then he'd be clinically delusional. "You're a private detective?"

"Not…really." Harry grinned widely. "Just a consultant. I know a lot about the occult. Sometimes I can help the police figure out what certain rituals entail, so they can find the nut-job responsible for whatever happened – murder or otherwise." He shrugged helplessly. Danny gave him a thoughtful look. There's obviously more to it than that.

"Does that happen a lot in Chicago?" Jazz asked, tilting her head. "We don't usually get murders in Amity. Theft is more prevalent in our town." She frowned. "But with all the ghosts, there's barely any human-related violence or crime anymore. It's definitely a double-edged sword," she added, raising an eyebrow while Danny outright laughed.

"Ghosts," Harry said and sighed, rubbing his face. Danny noted that he barely moved his left hand, and only if he had to. Of course, he knew better than to ask. "Are they really ghosts?"

"Yes, but," Jazz paused and looked to Danny with a pleading expression. While it was true that Jazz was by far the more motivated of the two when it came to research on ghosts (on par with Sam, really), she still hadn't quite caught up with Mom and Dad's discoveries. Danny, on the other hand, had to know – or he'd end up on the receiving end of one of their new inventions, with no idea how it worked.

Hiding a grimace at the thought of his parents, Danny pushed the pain back again, like he'd recently gotten used to doing, and filled in for his sister. "We call them ghosts. We know they're made of ectoplasm, and that it sustains them…and they use it to attack and generally cause mayhem. But they can't be killed. I mean, we haven't found a way," he said, voice shaking slightly. "But it became a code word for 'monster beyond the veil of reality,' I guess. It's shorter, for one thing." He grinned weakly.

Harry raised an amused eyebrow. "True. 'Eldritch Abomination' is usually too nasty for polite company. People will just think you're harmlessly crazy if you call them ghosts." He sounded like he had confirmed something – but neither Danny nor Jazz knew what. It didn't make Danny suspicious, but it certainly made him wonder further about their odd guardian-to-be. "That answers some questions, I guess." He shifted in his seat, unsure.

Danny suddenly felt sorry. He didn't know Harry Dresden, but the guy had been called to visit these two abandoned kids and had no idea what he was getting into. Blue eyes shut tiredly, and he let out a little sigh with a little smile. "Sorry for this. I'm pretty sure you don't want to be here." He hunched his shoulders defensively, but the smile stayed fixed to his face.

"No," Harry said firmly. "I do. I know what being an orphan is like." His eyes darkened, but the storm passed quickly. "And I wanted to help. Even if I just meet you, even if I can't actually do much, it still means a lot to me." He coughed, embarrassed, and looked away from them. "So, here I am."

"I didn't mean to uh," now Danny felt like a heel. "Sorry. I just. I didn't..." Ugh, how hard was it to get out a straight sentence without sounding idiotic? "Sorry," he repeated firmly, deciding that the less said on the subject the better.

"Um," Jazz spoke up and hesitated; she shifted her gaze to her hands as if she'd been reprimanded.

Harry hadn't really made any facial expression to indicate anger, or even sadness. The man had stayed carefully blank – up until Jazz stuttered. "You can ask me whatever you want," he waved a hand. "I'm a potential foster person thing. It's only fair."

"I just – wanted to say that I'm sure – if our grandparents had been alive – they would have taken you in for certain." Jazz tripped over her words like a kid at their first spelling bee. Danny blinked in surprise. They never talked about other family members – alive or dead – very much. It always seemed that the only family that was important included the four Amity Park Fentons exclusively.

Danny's heart clenched once more. He forced his emotions away, but this action was accompanied by a stinging sensation behind his eyes.

Harry's face relaxed into a lazy smile. "I appreciate the sentiment. I really do." He looked around for a moment and closed his eyes. A long instant passed where he seemed to consider something. Then, "I just came into some new family myself."

"Really?" Danny and Jazz asked at the same time. Jazz sounded eager. Danny sounded wary.

"Half-brother," he said in summation. "Shocked the hell out of me. Alone one moment and then bonded the next." Harry chuckled and put a hand to his face. "I suppose I should be used to it, but I can't help but feel overwhelmed. It was a genuine Star Wars moment. Had to search my feelings and everything."

Danny chuckled, and though it was honest, it wasn't entirely comfortable. Not yet. Possibly not ever. He spotted an amused quirk on Jazz's lips nonetheless.

"He lives with me at the moment – his own family kicked him out – so it's a little crowded at my place." He took out a few small photographs, and gestured awkwardly at the Polaroid snapshots now on the table. "I don't live the high life. And I keep accumulating roommates for some reason. Probably just my luck; no offense." He added hastily.

Danny got the feeling he wasn't used to dealing with kids on any basis. Which was fine by him, and probably Jazz too. Neither of them liked being treated like kids – even when they acted like the teenagers they were.

"This is Mister; he's some unholy mix of a domestic cat and a Harley Davidson. He owns the building and the five mile radius surrounding it. I never forget to feed him for a reason – last time I missed a meal, he tore up my couch." The photo focused on a huge cat, sleeping on its side on a pile of papers and a paw on the only pen in sight. The simple, utterly feline dominance made Danny smile.

"This is Mouse. He's new to the apartment, and he already comes up to here when I'm standing upright." Harry gestured to his mid-upper thigh with a grin that looked vaguely pained. "He's smart for even the smartest of dogs, and I think he's at least part Tibetan Mastiff – but don't quote me. Generally, if you're nice, then he'll like you. He takes offense to jerks." The man said this quite seriously, which made Danny somewhat uneasy again. He eyed the big happy-looking dog in the photo and tried not to gulp on reflex. He wasn't even sure why he felt this worried just by looking at a picture.

"And, uh, this is Thomas." Harry was obviously discomfited by even showing the picture. Danny wasn't sure why – the guy seemed pretty happy to have family.

"He does look like you," Jazz said, obviously trying to be extra friendly to compensate. "Of course, the picture has him running away," she pointed out with a little smirk.

It was true. Thomas had an irritated expression painted across his features (which, Danny thought with some envy, were more handsome than was fair), and he had his mouth open. Probably saying something disparaging to the photographer.

"I took this the day before I left for here," Harry said, and he sounded sheepish. "It was kind of a spur of the moment thing." As were most of the photos, Danny saw. They were fairly new, in comparison to essentially everything else the man owned. It made him happy to see that Harry was being proactive about the whole introduction business.

"Camera shy?" asked Jazz, in that same tone of voice.

Jazz was teasing? Wow. That was a rare reaction from his supposedly more mature older sister.

Harry frowned at Jazz, which was a bit of a surprise to Danny. What did Jazz do to put him on edge? In turn, Danny's expression closed off in annoyance.

"Not usually. But yeah," Harry gathered the photos quickly and put them away in his duster. "So, those were the fixtures you'd probably see if you, ah, came to live with me." The last few words rushed out and compressed themselves as tightly as they could, like they were trying to hide. "If you've got allergies to cats, dogs, crappy apartments or ridiculously annoying older brothers, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Jazz looked a bit ruffled, like a cat who'd been pushed of its perch, but she still tittered behind her hand. "Are you sure it's not younger brothers?"

"Hey!" Danny half-shouted in his own defense, snapping out of his mild cold-shoulder routine. Harry just looked incredibly amused and didn't respond otherwise. "I could easily ask if he means older sisters."

Her very mature response was to slug him lightly in the arm. Danny said nothing else, but a smirk still lingered on his face.

"I'll be honest," Harry said after a moment of comfortable quiet. "I kinda like you guys."

Danny grudgingly admitted a similar feeling of camaraderie, despite his resentment over… well, Harry being a stranger. The guy was funny, and didn't talk down to them. That had already earned him a few good points.

Jazz looked like she was going to agree, but instead, she shook her head. "This is the best I've felt in days. Really, I'm glad you came." She twirled her red hair nervously. "Danny –"she stopped short again, and shot an apologetic look at Danny. "He hasn't really been speaking to anyone, except Sam and Tucker and I."

Danny was never a fan of being referenced to in a conversation when his presence was obvious to everyone. But he gave Jazz the benefit of the doubt. She hadn't been up to psycho-analyzing anyone for quite a long time. He let her have this one.

"This is most I've heard him talk for several days." She was looking at Harry, obviously grateful. "I thank you for that."

Harry glanced at Danny, as if asking him 'Is she serious?' but without the innate skepticism. Danny shrugged, which was a nonchalant gesture to a very heavy question. Pretending his depression never even happened might not have been healthy, but it was how he dealt with things.

"Glad I could make it," Harry said decisively.

Both siblings smiled in genuine appreciation. Then Jazz shuddered. "Ugh. I really hope you can take us in. At least while the courts, lawyers and everyone else figures out who's allowed to adopt us. I don't want to go with Vlad." 'Vlad' might as well have been a curse word, the way Jazz spit it out.

"The other guy? Who's got billions of dollars, doesn't live in a grungy apartment, and – did I mention the money?" Harry said, sounding incredulous. "You don't want to live with him, okay," he said after a heartbeat, backpedaling from the venomous glare Danny gave the table. Not to mention Jazz paling to the color of chalk. "Can I ask why?"

"There are plenty of reasons," Danny said immediately.

"You seem like the kind of person who understands the difference between someone who is wealthy in heart, and someone who is wealthy in possessions." Jazz interjected quickly as well.

"He's a crazy fruit-loop, and nothing he might do will ever change my mind," Danny said, quite seriously.

Jazz put a hand to her face, and blushed lightly. "Danny and Vlad have a very antagonistic relationship. I didn't myself, until I found out what Danny discovered fairly early on…Vlad." She paused and bit back a groan – Danny could see her squint. "Vlad was infatuated with our mom. Not only did he hit on her whenever he could, he often put our dad down in front of Danny and I. Often."

"More like any time we ever saw him in person," Danny muttered angrily.

Harry made a face that screamed 'ick. "Hells Bells," he said and was obviously refraining from saying anything else. "Okay. That answers that. Wow. Ew."

Danny's eyes widened in amazement. He hadn't heard an adult use the word 'ew' in…well, he'd never heard one do it – at least, not to his face. "Yeah, pretty much. There are a lot of other things he's done, but it might take hours to tell you about them all," he decided to say, despite his initial reluctance.

"We have a list about a mile long," Jazz affirmed.

"No, really?" Harry said, appearing a lot more comfortable with the situation at hand. The man's own awkward phase had obviously passed. "I couldn't tell."

Jazz blew out an exasperated puff of air. "David's the only one who really believes us. I mean, Mr. Fong." The guy had insisted on them calling him by his first name, but they realized it might be a bit of a social faux pas if they did when he wasn't around. "No one else takes us seriously. They think we're acting out."

"As if," Danny stated succinctly.

"'Acting out' – please." Jazz slipped into her annoying, but useful, know-it-all modus operandi. "Such a reaction to a supposed 'family friend' would be anything but 'acting out.' Perhaps a number of other things," she went on to justify. "But they could have picked a trigger that actually makes sense!"

Danny's good humor returned for a little while, and he leaned forward to speak in a stage whisper that was anything but conspiring. "She thinks she's a psychologist."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Danny said, unrelenting, but smiling all the same. "You've been giving students at Casper free sessions for almost two years now. It's a wonder they didn't just hire you instead of Spectra." Danny's words choked off at the name of one of his least favorite enemies. He suddenly had the feeling that he maybe should have shut up a few words earlier.

Harry's eyes narrowed, but not in anger; he had an open expression of curiosity. "Who hired what now?"

"Last year," Jazz said, her teeth trying not to grind together. "Our school hired a new student counselor. Her name was Penelope Spectra, and she was supposed to help us build school spirit." Danny found it somewhat alarming to hear her tone turn sarcastic at the end of her sentence. He had always thought Jazz really honestly enjoyed Spirit Week (and other events like it), but maybe this wasn't the case.

Then again, this was Spectra she was talking about. Not a lot of happy memories that week for either of them. While it was demeaning and torturous for Danny, Jazz took it personally when a psychiatrist didn't do the right thing. Even worse was her guilt when she discovered how much she was missing when it came to deconstructing her own brother. Danny was rather proud of the fact that he'd managed to keep his ghost powers under wraps from his inquisitive older sister. But Jazz agonized over it for quite a while afterwards.

"I take it she didn't inspire much spirit," Harry didn't quite ask. It was more of a prodding then a question.

"No," Jazz continued, words biting. "She was sucking it right out of the entire student body."

Danny saw Harry still. "I'm sorry, I thought you said she was 'sucking school spirit.'" He sounded half-amused and half-astounded. "You don't mean that literally."

"Oh, but I do," Jazz was on a roll now. Her expression gleamed with righteous fury. "Turns out she was a ghost all along, feeding off the school's negative energy – which she generated by abusing the kids' mental stability and self-esteem." Jazz's knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the table. "Particularly Danny. She really dragged him through the coals – made him wear a – "

"Jazz!" Danny interrupted frantically. "Please, don't remind me. And no offense, but you don't need to know," he said rapidly in Harry's startled direction.

"None taken," the man said, soothing Danny's ruffled fur.

Jazz sighed. "Needless to say, it was embarrassing for him. And traumatic for everyone else."

"So…" Harry seemed to have lost his place – or he was just rapidly finding a new one to settle down in; he looked alarmed and greatly disturbed. The latter was a reaction Danny wasn't expecting. "What happened to her?"

"Oh, Danny Phantom had been trying to oust her all week," Danny spoke in a pleased tone of voice, but it was still subdued. "But the one who really took her down was Jazz."

"Danny," Jazz said, somewhat bewildered. "It wasn't really, you know, me. I mean. I had help. Phantom saved me from being incinerated, and I had the Fenton Peeler."

"Yeah, well. You were the one who put her out of action. Without you, I bet Phantom wouldn't have been able to win," he said frankly. Danny had to butt in before Jazz went on a big Phantom-related spiel. Firstly, he didn't want Harry to get too much information on the illustrious Phantom (for some very obvious reasons). As well, he didn't want all the credit for taking down Spectra – especially since it really was Jazz who had incapacitated the horrible ghost in the first place.

Jazz blushed, and avoided Danny's praise by waving a hand. "Anyway, Phantom caught her in the end, with one of our parent's ghost catching devices, and put her back in the Ghost Zone." She paused; it sounded like she wanted to continue, but she was staring at Harry Dresden with some trepidation. "Mr. Dresden?"

Harry was staring at them in utter confusion. "Alright. Most of that went over my head; actually, all of it did." He held up a finger. "One; who, or what, is Danny Phantom?"

Danny leaned back and let Jazz do all the talking. But he nudged her foot under the table in warning: don't get carried away. For one, he wasn't comfortable talking about his own exploits, origins, or anything else that made him speak in the third person. It just felt strange. Plus, Jazz was just better at it, even if she did sometimes overdo it with her enthusiasm.

Predictably, Jazz exploded with information, but she nudged Danny back – a sign that she had understood his silent request. "He's Amity Park's own super hero, even though he's a ghost himself." She pulled out a newspaper clipping from her purse and flipped it over to show Danny Phantom, captured in a rather heroic pose for someone who wasn't really trying. "PHANTOM: HERO OR MENACE?" was the oh-so-subtle title of the article. Danny wanted to run away and hide. It was so awkward. He forced himself not to blush, but he wasn't very good at concealing his embarrassment.

"Anyone know why he's doing all this?" Harry asked, almost to himself, as he read through the article. "The townspeople seem to either like him or want to greet him with torches and pitchforks. He doesn't have that much motivation there."

"Because someone has to," Danny said defensively before he realized exactly what he had said. "Right?" he followed up quickly. But Harry was already giving him a very measured look.

"He's a good guy," Jazz enthused, drawing Harry's attention away from Danny aptly. "And there were only a few instances of, well, 'public uncertainty' where he wasn't quite himself – and another one, where he was framed. But, uh, that's a long story." Jazz trailed off hastily as Danny shot her a look of warning.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but his expression – if Danny was paranoid enough to say so – was a little on the amused side of sarcastic. "Right. I'll probably hear about all of this eventually anyway. If it's important, I'll find out."

This, considering the guy was a self-admitted private detective, was probably very true. Danny avoided the topic by deftly asking him more about Mouse the Wonder Dog ("If he sits on a full grown man, said man will openly weep for their mother. Also, he likes Chinese food"), while Jazz quizzed him on what his work was like ("I'll keep it simple; the work is great when I succeed, and it's terrible when I don't – it's worse when I don't get paid for either circumstance"). Harry responded in kind, interrogating them on what their parents did for a living ("They were the town weirdoes, but when it turned out to that they were the only ones capable of defending themselves against the ghosts, everyone started looking at them in a different light. A lot of the things people use for Anti-Ghost protection were made by Mom and Dad").

Despite their initial reservations, which they would have had for just about anyone, Danny found that they were talking to him with a distinctly unusual degree of openness. Maybe it was stress, maybe it was relief; Danny didn't care. It felt good to be able to share his ghost stories – even if it meant talking about his parents. Jazz was appropriately astonished at the turn of events, but he could tell she was trying to hide it. Instead, she played along with Danny, trying to get Harry to reveal more about himself than he already had. So far it had been a taxing endeavor. He was good at avoiding whatever subject he wanted to skip over, and he did it with a natural, sarcastic aplomb. When they asked about why he really called himself a wizard, Harry only said:

"I'm secretly Gandalf." The grin on his face could only be described as smug – if you wanted to stick to a clean vocabulary. It was infuriating, but he decided the man was inclined to his secrets. After all, Danny had his own to keep as well. He just hoped said secrets weren't anything that would make his life miserable later. That sort of thing happened often, with little regard to Danny's feelings on the matter.

The trio had kept themselves rather busy for near an hour and a half in total before David Fong returned to their table.

"I know legal things bore you two, and I don't know you well enough to speculate, Mr. Dresden."

Harry snorted a very appropriate answer, "You can take a healthy guess."

"But," David continued, entertained. "I have some good news from your parents' lawyer. It has quite a bit to do with your inheritance, for one thing."

Danny and Jazz had mirrored expressions of surprise. "We have an inheritance?" Danny managed through the squeak in his voice.

"Certainly. It's also been organized for you until Jazz (and you too Danny) turns eighteen." David pulled out a document that looked important, and began reading through it, adjusting his glasses to see the fine print better. "'Daniel and Jasmine Fenton are, upon our deaths, given sole ownership over all Fentonworks' patents, investments, stocks, equipment, research and profits.' And," he gathered another paper from his hefty file. "This is how the finances have been organized."

He turned the paper right-side up, and flipped it toward Danny and Jazz. The two siblings took a closer look; their reactions were fairly obvious. Danny's brow furrowed in confusion while Jazz paled and put a trembling hand to her mouth. Her eyes were bright, and Danny, concerned, whispered a question or two to her. She whispered a few words back, and Danny's expression flipped over as he stared in awe of the paper before them.

"Good news?" quipped Harry from the sidelines.

"For you as well," David said brightly, in place of the Fentons – who were busy trying not to cry, laugh, or both. "Or rather, for anyone who adopts them. They have an annual allowance until they turn eighteen, and until then, you have sole control over these properties and accounts. For instance, under this current contract, you'd be able to do something like, oh I don't know, fix up an apartment. Or perhaps be able to fund these children through school, and possibly beyond." His voice sang with innocence. His expression on the other hand was rather amused, and a sly glance was shot in Harry's now dumbfounded direction.

No one spoke for a moment. "Um," Danny's voice tried to climb its way out of the hole it had tried to dig for itself. "So, uh." He stopped himself from further word vomit and redirected his gaze back to the paper.

"Well, money always helps," Harry said abruptly, smiling in a goofy manner. "I was debating taking on more odd-jobs, but uh, this helps a lot."

"Wait," Danny continued, but this time, he had a direction for his words, but organizing them into a sentence was hard to do when you mentally went on lock-down. "You…you're going to take us in?" he asked, and the question was so embarrassing it physically hurt. He didn't want to sound desperate, but he couldn't help it. Uncertainty had weighed heavily on him these last few days, so much so that the relief provided by Harry's words made him stutter.

Jazz had joined Danny in gaping openly in Harry's direction. Danny had remembered that she was the one who had been the most pessimistic about their meeting today. To be completely accurate, she had been pessimistic about the whole adoption situation from the very beginning. Jazz had cried on his shoulder the day before, honestly afraid that he'd end up with Vlad no matter what happened (they weren't sure if he'd just let Jazz flounder in the system while stealing Danny for himself). Danny hadn't known what to say – he was in the same boat, after all.

But then Harry Dresden had shown up; a tall man (or Wizard, as he'd said he was), with good humor and a surprisingly clean disposition (despite the physical scruffiness), both of them had been pleasantly astounded by their good fortune, but Danny had been afraid to indulge hope. Even as their conversation had trickled down to skirting over whole truths, Danny found himself purposely resisting the impulse to like the guy any more than was necessary.

Now the lost hope was back in full force. Danny was honestly afraid of Harry's answer; it could make or break them.

The silence was almost unbearable. "I am," Harry said at last, in a surprisingly warm tone of voice. He still gave the impression that he might be heading into unknown territory, but Danny couldn't find it in him to care that much.

Harry continued, "I'm conservative with funds usually, and …I can make space." He winced. "I'm going to get visits from Official People, aren't I?"

David nodded, "But of course. As long as they each have a bed, you're in the clear. Space-wise, I mean." He handed Harry a large pile of what looked like forms. "And you should fill these out, if you're certain of your decision."

"Of course I'm sure – oof!"

Jazz had leapt around the table and had given him a solid, Jazz-patented smothering. It was a hug of epic proportions. She was crying and trying to say 'Thank You' at the same time, but it all came out as a big, blubbery mess. Danny said nothing, but the smile on his face could have lit the entire city. He didn't know about tomorrow. He couldn't help but worry about Vlad, about the ghosts of his town, and even about himself…but the swelling hope in his chest couldn't be put to rest.

Maybe they were going to be okay.

A/N: Many thanks, and hugs, and chocolates and a Danny Phantom plushie to my long-suffering, ever-awesome Beta: dragondancer123 - who helped me immensely with this. In fact, I blame her entirely for even bringing the idea up in conversation. Mutated plotbunnies indeed.

For Dresden: this is set after Blood Rites and the summer before Dead Beat. For DP: this is after Reality Trip, but before the third season. Hope that clarifies for some folk. :3

No worries - to those concerned, she's keeping me on my toes about Phasmatis, so don't think I'll up and leave it because I"ve found a new toy to play with. *sigh* I'm a sucker for a good crossover idea. No, seriously, I really am. I need help.

To those who do read this, and are Dresden fans as well, I thank you. Hope you like it!