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The Show Must Go On (harry/dean)
The day after this.
Magic was fluid, not fixed. Sunrise was a time of new beginnings, and the first rays of dawn could wipe away any spells left out in the open. It was one of the reasons Harry keyed his wards into a home's threshold, since by their very nature, a threshold was fixed. But for the alarm spells that would let him know if someone (or something) was approaching his home with ill intent? Those required a bit more effort.
Harry had encountered this issue in Chicago, and the way he worked it out there seemed fine for working it out here. Rings of sea glass, with runes carefully etches into their smooth sides, were hung on iron nails, which in turn were hammered into the telephone poles and trees in a two-block radius around the house. Anyone taking a route that would bring the to Harry's door would activate the spells, which in turn would activate his defenses.
The wards were permanent once they went up... well, at least until they were burned away, taken down by Harry or a stronger wizard, or had enough bodies thrown at them to burn out the spells. That last had happened to his first generation of wards, thanks to the zombie hordes at the disposal of a few necromancers. Harry had learned a few tricks after that, and the second generation wards would last long enough for that not to be an issue.
He stopped to take a break just after midday. The police had so far only asked him about a permit once for climbing a phone pole. Harry didn't want to attract attention from the local authorities just yet, so he opted for sticking to trees here on out. For now, he perched on the hood of his Jeep, munching on some Burger King.
The phone call with Bobby had been... interesting. No idea why Jo was back. Shame. But a direction to point Dean in, at least.
"It's easy to find 'im," Bobby said. "Y'know how we couldn't find Bin Laden? A giant Arab on dialysis? It's kinda like that."
Dean really didn't get the joke until he pulled up in the driveway at Harry Dresden's house.
He joked that Sam was a Sasquatch. This guy was a Yeti, or something, then. Dean already knew Harry was a wizard. He didn't really get what that meant, per se, but that was probably better, since he really wasn't a fan of witches. People were scarier than demons.
Once he was out of the Impala, Dean did his best to look friendly. "Hey, are you Harry?" he asked, walking up to the Jeep, and the Redwood sitting on top of it.
( read more )
Magic was fluid, not fixed. Sunrise was a time of new beginnings, and the first rays of dawn could wipe away any spells left out in the open. It was one of the reasons Harry keyed his wards into a home's threshold, since by their very nature, a threshold was fixed. But for the alarm spells that would let him know if someone (or something) was approaching his home with ill intent? Those required a bit more effort.
Harry had encountered this issue in Chicago, and the way he worked it out there seemed fine for working it out here. Rings of sea glass, with runes carefully etches into their smooth sides, were hung on iron nails, which in turn were hammered into the telephone poles and trees in a two-block radius around the house. Anyone taking a route that would bring the to Harry's door would activate the spells, which in turn would activate his defenses.
The wards were permanent once they went up... well, at least until they were burned away, taken down by Harry or a stronger wizard, or had enough bodies thrown at them to burn out the spells. That last had happened to his first generation of wards, thanks to the zombie hordes at the disposal of a few necromancers. Harry had learned a few tricks after that, and the second generation wards would last long enough for that not to be an issue.
He stopped to take a break just after midday. The police had so far only asked him about a permit once for climbing a phone pole. Harry didn't want to attract attention from the local authorities just yet, so he opted for sticking to trees here on out. For now, he perched on the hood of his Jeep, munching on some Burger King.
The phone call with Bobby had been... interesting. No idea why Jo was back. Shame. But a direction to point Dean in, at least.
"It's easy to find 'im," Bobby said. "Y'know how we couldn't find Bin Laden? A giant Arab on dialysis? It's kinda like that."
Dean really didn't get the joke until he pulled up in the driveway at Harry Dresden's house.
He joked that Sam was a Sasquatch. This guy was a Yeti, or something, then. Dean already knew Harry was a wizard. He didn't really get what that meant, per se, but that was probably better, since he really wasn't a fan of witches. People were scarier than demons.
Once he was out of the Impala, Dean did his best to look friendly. "Hey, are you Harry?" he asked, walking up to the Jeep, and the Redwood sitting on top of it.
( read more )