Hello, world. I realize these kinds of fic are technically illegal, but I love them anyway. And I consider it a crime against fandom that one does not exist for this, my absolute favorite book series. So here I am, tempting copyright infringement, to amuse myself and my fellow nerds, geeks, and dorks. Enjoy.

The residence of the only wizard in the phonebook would be considered modest for a single average-sized resident. When you tried to cram in an NBA-sized beanpole, an incubus raised to consider a two-bedroom house a 'cottage', a puppy set to reach the size of some ponies, and quite possibly the largest house cat on the planet, it became downright claustrophobic. Still, they managed to make it work. Harry was sprawled across the couch, his feet sticking comically far past the edge, Mister curled up on his chest. Thomas made the loveseat look like the chaise of a Roman emperor just by sitting in it, and Mouse was a lump of fur in front of the fire. They all were comfy with what space they had, but the fact remained that they took up half the available cubic volume in the apartment just by breathing.

So when a crate appeared in a flash of light and crashed onto the floor, there wasn't quite enough room for them all to jump back. More like shuffle back.

"What the fuck!" exclaimed Thomas, back pressed against the wall when just a second before he'd been on the other side of the room.

The Foo dog was on his feet, body rigid, a low growl reverberating in his too-lean chest like an idling engine through a wall.

Mister hopped to the floor and made his way to the bedroom, annoyed by the noise.

And Harry… rolled off the couch onto the floor. Flailing.

He didn't bother saying 'ow'. He had a somewhat skewed perspective on pain.

Getting to his feet, Harry regarded the sudden addition to his living room. It was a basic wooden crate, the kind you saw in Indiana Jones movies transporting antiques. Attached to the lid with what appeared to be Scotch tape were two sealed envelopes. One had 'Me first' scrawled on it in a vaguely familiar hand.

"Huh. Interesting," Harry muttered.

"Interesting? Something appearing from thin air is only 'interesting'? What the hell do you consider 'suspicious' or 'dangerous'?" snarked his half-brother.

"It's not a bomb, it would have gone off already," Harry said with far too much calm. "What I want to know is how it got through my wards. They didn't so much as flicker. And it didn't come from the Nevernever, the residue from the portal would be all over the place. It just… showed up. Like I said, interesting."

The White Court vampire relaxed from 'spooked predator' to 'wary animal'. "So what is it?"

"Well, Thomas, it appears to be a big crate," Harry deadpanned. He narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Yes, it is in fact a big crate."

"Smartass. Let me rephrase: anything on the old Spidey senses?"

Harry reached out with his left hand, curled into a claw and covered by a black leather glove. But it's the left side that receives energy, so what're you gonna do? He got nothing from the crate itself or anything inside it. The unmarked envelope was another thing altogether. Harry sensed energy folded and twisted and compressed, almost like a jack-in-the-box just waiting to be opened up.

And the energy signature was instantly recognizable to him. Disturbingly so.

"Oh, hell's bells," the wizard swore to himself.

Thomas tilted his head, his supernatural hearing picking up the soft utterance. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is I have a pretty good idea who sent this. And it's not good."

Thomas tensed. "Who is it? The Red Court? Lea? Some geezer on the White Council you pissed in the coffee of?"

"Worse. It's from me."

The obscenely good-looking man raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Did you send yourself chocolates or something, 'cause that would be pathetic even for you, little bro."

"Thomas, you don't get it. I sent this. But I didn't send it."

"Geez, wonder why I don't get it."

"Thomas, I sent this to myself. From the frigging future."

Thomas gaped. "What? Seriously? Are you sure?"

"Well, I don't remember ever sending my future self a package, so it's a safe bet it came from the other direction."

Thomas frowned. "Um, isn't messing around with time against the Laws of Magic?"

"Exactly. Which makes me wonder how insane and/or desperate I must have been to risk getting a date with Morgan and a chopping block to send this thing back."

"Well, looks like 'you' left yourself a note. See if it has any answers. Though if it's really you, I wouldn't hold out much hope. It's impossible to get anything coherent out of you with how close you play to the chest."

"Hardy-har-har," the younger yet older-looking of the two faked. Reaching out for the marked envelope, he tore it open (with some difficulty given the state of his left hand), and pulled out the letter within. Yep. That was his handwriting. It felt kind of surreal to see the writing and have no idea what it said.

Hello, past-me. You lucky bastard. You have no idea how good you have it with the 'youth' thing. Enjoy it while it lasts. By which I mean, get laid you bastard. Our subconscious has a point. But that can wait until the party. What party, you ask (Not psychic, just you ;)? The party after you save your reality with what's in this box. Yeah, that one.

Harry felt a lump settle in his stomach. Reality? That was a bit above his weight-class. Chicago, sure. The world, in a pinch on a good day. But reality? Yeah, that was too big even for him. What kind of shit had (will?) he gotten into?

In case you're still doubting this is us, ourselves, and we, you named Susan's breasts Sarandon and Pevensie.

Harry felt his cheeks flare. Well, that was all the confirmation he needed.

Look, the juicy details are in the other letter. DO. NOT. OPEN. IT. Not until everyone on the following list shows up. I've arranged for them to show up already, so don't worry about losing the rent on long-distance. And yes, I mean EVERYONE on the list. They all have a part to play. So just suck it up like a big boy. And yes, I know I'm patronizing myself. Like you wouldn't do the same thing. And tidy up while you're at it.

Harry blinked. Huh. So this is what other people felt when he talked to them. No wonder he was marked for death.

Harry had to read the list half a dozen times before he believed it. What the… why on earth… Well, this would be fun. He'd always wanted to round out the décor with some bloodstains.

Over the course of the next hour, everyone on his future-self's list showed up.

Karen Murphy walked in like it was her own home. "What's up, Dresden?" Straight to business, like always. She absently scratched Mouse's ears when he walked up to her.

Harry shrugged. "Not sure myself. We'll both find out when everybody gets here."

The cop narrowed her eyes, but she trusted him enough to take him at his word.

Next up was Michael and his oldest daughter, Molly. The Knight of the Cross embraced Harry like a brother, something which made the unwitting host of a fallen angel distinctly uncomfortable. He kept waiting for his friend's face to twist in disgust or to draw his holy sword and run him through. Thankfully, it seemed he hadn't brought Amoracchius. Molly kept looking around like a kid on a field trip.

"Harry! Good to see you. I'm afraid you might have some explaining to do to Charity. She was upset enough for me to leave on a Saturday, let alone with Molly."

Harry hid a shiver. For a mad moment, he wondered if angering Charity was worth saving all of Creation, but he moved on. Better to live in a world where he could worry about Charity and her disapproval.

"Come in, Michael. And keep a close eye on the kid. Some of the other people coming… aren't nice."

"I'm fifteen, not five! I can look after myself," whined the teenager in a tone old as time.

Michael, however, got a pensive frown and nodded solemnly. He directed Molly to the corner, where she was promptly enslaved by Mister.

The grumble of an engine that predated the atomic bomb heralded the arrival of the next party. Harry tried not to make his grimace too obvious. When the knock came, he opened the door to the sight of Ebenezer McCoy and Warden Morgan.

"Hoss," nodded his old mentor, eyes cautious.

"Sir," Harry responded, more from habit than any real respect. He was still wrestling with the realization of the man's betrayal, or at least massive lie.

Morgan scowled at Harry like he was a big fly that settled on the shit on the bottom of his shoe. "You better not be wasting our time, Dresden. The Council has more important things to do than cater to your whims."

"Pleasure seeing you again too, Morgan. Can I get you anything? A beer? Soda? A hydraulic winch to pull the stick from your ass?"

Morgan's hand twitched towards his sword.

"Enough, both of you," Ebenezer barked in the tone of a cattle farmer trying to get two bulls to tolerate each other. "Your letter said it was critical we be here, Hoss. What's the problem?"

Harry sighed. "You'll have to wait for the rest to show up. I don't want to explain this more than once."

Morgan looked like he wanted to make a scathing remark, but a glance from Ebenezer quelled him. He didn't manage to restrain himself when he saw Thomas after walking in. Or maybe he didn't try that hard. "What's a vampire doing here?"

Harry beseeched the ceiling for patience. "Believe me, Morgan, Thomas will be the least of your worries once everyone shows up."

There was a tentative knock a few minutes later.

Harry opened the door and was faced with the only woman he'd ever proposed. Susan Rodriguez hadn't aged a day, which meant Sarandon and Pevensie were as perky as ever. Harry was instantly aware of the charged atmosphere between them. Visions of their time together, including that last time a year and a half ago, cycled on repeat through his head. If the blush coloring her caramel cheeks was anything to go by, she felt it too.

"Harry," she breathed out.

"Susan."

They both fidgeted.

"You wanted me to come alone. Martin wasn't too happy. So what was so urgent?"

Harry applied all his considerable self-discipline to suppress his body's reaction to Susan's proximity. "We'll find out when we're all assembled."

She frowned, but nodded. She walked in, looked around the room, and made to sit on the carpet by the fire. Harry tried not to think too hard about the last time she'd been on that carpet.

"Jeez, can you say 'unresolved sexual tension'?" muttered Thomas.

Harry would deny causing the cabinet door to open and smack his brother on the head to his dying breath.

There was a sudden gathering of energy that had every sensitive being in the apartment looking at the door. There was a distinct period when Harry just stood there, waiting for the creature on the other side to knock. The seconds stretched until the pin dropped.

"Oh, right, steel door," he thought aloud. Opening the anti-burglar portal, Harry was met with the physical embodiment of an entire season, and all the terrible, awesome power of the forces of nature that implied.

"Mab," Harry said neutrally. He wasn't quite so suicidal as to mouth off to her face, but he wasn't about to call her 'your majesty'.

"Dresden," she acknowledged in her cool, clear voice. She was in the same clothes from when they'd first met and she was pretending to be human, but she hadn't bothered to raise any glamour. Her features were as stark and lovely and inhuman as ever. "Are you going to be a good host and invite me in, or shall I have to go through the trouble of tearing down your wards?"

That one sentence told you all you needed to know about the Winter Sidhe. Courtly manners wrapped around ruthlessness and the casual arrogance that came with having more magic than most wizards attained their whole lives in one finger. Harry was half-tempted to keep them up and see if his home-made landmines and barbed wire of a defense managed to ruffle her clothes. But saner heads prevailed, and he wordlessly opened the wards and welcomed him into his home. The Faerie Queen, who acted as if there was no one else in the apartment, went to the farthest corner from the fire.

There was a tense silence as everyone just sat or stood, analyzing everyone else analyzing them. Except for Molly. She seemed torn between ogling Thomas and gaping at Mab. When the door knocked again, Harry had to stop himself from gasping in relief.

The fellow apprentice of Justin DuMorne was waiting on the other side. "Hey, Harry," she said with a gentle smile.

Harry couldn't have stopped the answering smile if he tried. "Hey, Elaine."

Without even thinking, they hugged. So Harry felt it when she went rigid as a statue.

"Harry," she hissed, "Tell me that you didn't invite me to your home along with a freaking Warden."

"I didn't invite you to my home along with a freaking Warden," Harry answered dryly. "And I wouldn't have asked you to come if it wasn't important. Like, existentially important."

Elaine's mouth thinned into two-dimensionality. "Only for you, Dresden," she ground out after a minute.

"That a girl."

Harry was just reaching to close the door when he spotted the shine of shoes that cost more than his car. So he paused and waited for the crime lord of Chicago to reach his door. Part of him wanted the gangster to walk just a step further and meet his wards, but alas Marcone disappointed him. "Mr. Dresden," he drawled in that smooth voice. At his shoulder stood a statuesque blonde in a charcoal pantsuit. "I cannot wait to hear what circumstances led to you inviting me into your home. Though I must wonder why you were so adamant that Mr. Hendricks not join us."

"Because he would throw off the count. Now get inside, John."

Harry savored the hardening of the man's eyes at both the use of his first name and the command. With the swagger that comes with a bank account numbering at least 8 digits, the 'Gentleman' entered the domain of the wizard he'd had his eye on for quite some time. Ms. Gard shadowed him.

Harry sighed and went to sit on the crate. All the seat and most of the wall were already taken. He ripped the letter off before he sat and handled it like he would a glass figurine. Or maybe TNT. "Okay. That makes everyone. All 13 of us."

Karen frowned and looked around. "Not counting the pets, I count twelve."

Harry waved a hand at a skull on the mantelpiece. "Bob, stop playing dead."

The skull remained unresponsive.

The others in the room either looked at the skull curiously or at Harry, clearly unimpressed. Harry turned to glare at the cranium. "Bob, seriously! This is no time for stage fright."

Like the flickering of a dying candle, orange light appeared in the eye sockets. "Dresden, you son of a three-legged bitch. You brought me into the same room as Mab. All the porn in Christendom won't make up for this."

Said monarch of half the Sidhe regarded the skull with predatory interest. "Ah. The Spirit of Intellect. So this is where you've been hiding."

Harry frowned. "Mab, I've never gotten it out of him exactly what he did to piss you off. But he's my property. Break him, and you'll owe me."

Most of the Fae would react violently to the threat of being in a human's debt. Oddly, the most violent of them all just smiled sweetly and shrugged. The motion was off, as if she were doing some rehearsed movement instead of expressing any sentiment.

Susan frowned. "Harry, what exactly is going on here? Why are we all here?"

Harry's mouth furrowed, like he couldn't decide whether to grin or glower. "Let's find out." So saying, he opened the letter.

There was a wave of magic potent enough to be felt by regular mortals. When everyone was done blinking spots or recovering from full-body tingles, they were met with the hologram of one Harry Dresden, plus at least a decade's wear and tear. His clothes looked like they'd been through a warzone. He somehow seemed both taller, fuller than his modern counterpart, and weaker. His eyes were so tired.

"Greetings, one and all, to the strangest book club in the history of ever," said the ghostly image. "In case my young self didn't get around to explaining it before he activated the spell, I sent him a little package from my time. Inside, you'll find all my journals, or case files as I always thought of them, detailing all the crazy-ass incidents where I nearly died at least once. As you read them, you'll start to see the domino chain that led to, well, the End. Capital 'E'. And, armed with such knowledge, stop it from happening in the first place."

"Absolutely not!" roared Morgan. "To go against the flow of time violates the Third Law of Magic! That this package is here at all is a mortal crime! Actually reading these books is out of the question! You'll answer for this, Dresden, if it's the last thing I—"

"Shut up, Morgan."

The Warden was cut off, not by the modern Harry, but the obviously prerecorded hologram.

"Knowing you, you just had a little rant about how this is against the Laws. How using this knowledge is a crime in and of itself, and probably some threats against younger-me about punishing him for a crime he technically hasn't committed yet. Well, let me spell it out for you. I know this might be hard to understand, what with our black-and-white worldview, but if ever there were extenuating circumstances, then I think that the true blue, bona fide, 100% certified APOCALYPSE counts. But then again, you tended to disagree with me on principle. So I've only got one word for you: Blackstaff. He did it, it was just my idea. And before you get your panties in a wad about a paradox, Rashid says the Outsiders have fucked us up so bad that my time and your time are separate realities. So no worries. Also, note the past tense. Tended. One of the many things you can prevent, and it's even with the Council's approval."

Morgan closed his mouth. You could hear his teeth grinding. But he stepped back and seemed to settle down.

"Speaking of whom, thanks in advance for helping to save the world, sir. It's where I keep all my stuff."

Ebenezer huffed an involuntary chuckle.

"And for the record, I forgave you a long time ago. But give present… past… the fleshy me some time. Took two years for me to cool down. Though when he finds out a family secret in book, um, 12, he might suddenly become much more open."

Ebenezer's face went pale as fresh milk. He glanced at the real Harry uncertainly, who was looking at him curiously.

"Anyway, I'm sure the rest of you are wondering why the hell you're here too. Well, you all have a major role to play in the events to come. But I also needed so many of you so the spell could take effect. Think of it as a cosmic 'pause' button. From the moment this message started, you all became frozen in time. That means you don't have to worry about food, sleep, going to the bathroom, or the outside world until you finish these books. Yes, Mab, this doesn't apply to you, but it'll make things easier for everyone else. And I'm sure you won't mind acting as an anchor so long as it will allow you to find out how to save your daughters. Both of them."

Mab went still as a statue. The air around her seemed to drop twenty degrees. She suddenly seemed to be paying avid attention instead of barely observing.

"Now, just to stop any pissing contests or questions of why a certain person is here, let's go around the room and review the qualifications. Morgan and Senior Council member McCoy are here as reps of the White Council. It'll be their job to try and explain this cluster to them, so wish them luck. They also happen to be two of the handful of Council members I actually respect, so treat them nice."

Modern Harry looked like someone had just proved to him that up was down. Him, respect Morgan?

"Karen Murphy, the cop and shortest person in the room, is here for her connections to local law enforcement, a vital resource to head off some of the upcoming disasters. But mostly because she's simply the most dependable, dangerous woman I've ever met that never outright tried to kill me. Her resume, just to your date alone, includes making a loup garou stumble, taking down two Faeries with a freaking chainsaw, and slaying Black Court vampires in nothing but a Kevlar vest and panties. Don't mess with her, people."

The petite blonde's eyebrow twitched. "You're going to pay for that, Dresden," she vowed.

"The gentle giant Michael Carpenter, a man so religious I'm pretty sure his tears count as holy water, is one of the Knights of the Cross. This guy killed a dragon with Excalibur. Enough said. And his daughter, Molly, is here because, since it's a small world and all that Disney crap, she ends up being my apprentice. Yep, padowan, you're magic. Not sure if it's manifested just yet, but you become a decent wizard. With one or two growing pains that we can hopefully sidestep this time around."

Molly was blinking a lot. "I'm a wizard? Did the hologram just say I'm a wizard? Did the see-through guy just use a Star Wars reference? Oh my God, this is awesome!"

"Language, young lady," Michael scolded absently, his mind a million miles away as he tried to process that magic was in his family. Wait a minute, did this mean the rest of kids were too?

"Thomas Raith, the bastard that will forever look like a twenty-two-year-old porn star, is the son of the current White King, and miraculously is possessed of a sense of morality. Rare for a vampire, but it happens. He saves my ass a number of times, and once he manages to get back in the family's good graces you'll all have the considerable power of the White Court and their resources to help combat the Big Bads. And while I have the opportunity, I'd like to tell him something I never got the chance to… You owe me, man. If I had a quarter for every time you made people assume I was your boyfriend, I'd be renting out the goddamn Langham. My masculinity demands reparations. That is all."

Thomas's eyes widened. Then he turned and blew a kiss at the mortified Harry. "Oh, baby, you know I'm worth it."

Harry felt the laughs the others were hiding. "Make it a dollar. A dollar for every time you and your stupid sex juju make people think I bend over."

"Harry dearest, why do you assume they'd think I'm the top?" he teased mercilessly.

"Five dollars."

The hologram started speaking again and they quieted down.

"Susan… Susan is an agent of the Fellowship. You'll need them. And… she just deserves to hear all this. It's the least I owe her." Future Harry's face darkened. "Besides, this way certain EXTREMELY SENSITIVE information can be disclosed before I end up leading an assault of fucking Chichen Itza."

Susan stiffened. Her face was a mask of horror. She looked at Harry with shame, regret, and fear before she managed to master herself. Harry felt like his stomach had turned to lead. What did that mean? Was Susan hiding something from him?

"Mab's presence is due to the fact that she's the only Queen I trust. No, that's not right. She's the one I distrust least. How sad is that? I'd have settled for Lea, but she's… indisposed at the moment. I'm banking on her continued desire to toy with us humans, not to mention her true purpose, to give a crap about preventing our extinction."

Mab's mouth turned down. The boy had a real talk with Rashid at some point. Something to keep in mind.

"Elaine, the wholesome example of femininity in your midst, is here for one simple reason: she's better than me. She's got almost as much raw power as I do, and she's orders of magnitude better at controlling it. Plus, as a fellow Starborn, she's a crucial tool in the war to come. And yes, Elaine, I know you don't care about fighting for a Cause. But I can count on you to fight for your own survival, if nothing else. And that's as seriously in the balance as everyone else's."

The wizardress grimaced. Damn that man. He always managed to get her to do what he wanted. But what the hell was a Starborn?

Ebenezer was looking at her with more than a little consideration, and Morgan was staring at Dresden like he'd started growing radioactive green.

"And finally, last and least, we have Marcone and Ms. Gard. Marcone is, to put it delicately, a steaming sack of camel shit. But he's a steaming sack of camel shit with freakish combat capabilities, a bajillion bucks, and a drop of good and ethics in whatever he calls that black sludge that pumps through his veins. And, if nothing else, I know him. I can count on him, in some weird way. And the literal Nordic angel next to him is here to relay all this back to the Big Guy. Or Daddy. Depends on how he feels that day."

Marcone seemed unamused. Gard concealed her surprise at the human finding out her true identity. It almost sounded as if he'd met Father. Though how he'd survived the encounter, she couldn't fathom.

"Bob is, well, Bob. He's basically just here to record everything and lighten the mood. And Mouse and Mister came along since they don't count under the parameters of this spell. Besides, Mouse is smart enough that he deserves to hear all this as well and, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I could keep out Mister if I tried. I think that's about everything. Happy reading, folks. Try not to analyze every clue and get sucked into the conspiracy as it unfolds. Have a little fun with it. Hell, my life could pass for a novel. Dresden out."

The hologram vanished.

Harry glanced at his dog, who turned guileless eyes back at him. "Um, you understand us?"

Mouse wagged his tail.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "In that case, what's the square root of nine?"

Mouse deliberately sneezed three times.

Everyone stared at that.

Out of nowhere, Future Harry reappeared.

"P.S. To me. I hope you can find it in you to forgive yourself. Because I wrote these with the help of memory potions, so it's pretty much stream of consciousness. So everyone here's going to know your deepest, most personal thoughts. So… yeah."

He disappeared again.

Silence.

Then…

The most long-suffering sigh in the history of the world permeated the room.

"Who wants to go first?" asked Harry, apparently already resigned to his fate.

Every hand in the room went up. Human, wizard, Sidhe, Valkyrie, they all wanted to find out what went on in the head of Harry Dresden.

"Let's just do it in the order everyone arrived, okay?"

"I'm first!" shouted both Bob and Thomas. They turned to eye each other.

"What're you talking about? I was in the room when Harry got these. Of course I'm first."

"I was here before Harry even knew you existed. Seniority, punk."

Ebenezer narrowed his eyes. And why would the White Court vampire have been in his grandson's house, exactly?

Harry pinched his nose as the two bickered. "Enough! Murphy's doing it."

Opening the crate, Harry picked the journal on top, helpfully labeled '1', and handed it to the lieutenant.

Murphy examined the journal briefly. It was plain paper bound in black leather than reminded her of Harry's duster. Apart from the number on the cover, she also saw a name stitched into the spine.

"This one's called Storm Front."

Hope this piques at least one person's interest. Hope no one reports this and gets it deleted. Hope my OP fans don't revolt that I started ANOTHER fic. Good day, and always remember to flick your bic.