Due Process

By Ellex

Rated K+

Disclaimer: Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and the world he exists in, and SciFi Channel and others own TV-verse Harry and his world…it's too complicated for me. Basically, I don't own any of it. I'm just playing for fun here, and I make no material profit from this story.

Author's Note: I've taken some details from the books for this, although it doesn't fit into the book-verse.

ETA: I've been alerted that this story may not quite agree with details from a flashback in episode 1.05 'Bad Blood'. If I get to see that episode again, I may revise this story...or maybe not. Until then, consider this a way it might have happened.

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For a moment, I could only lie there, stunned and shocked, my hand clenched around the doll and the ring. There was only silence behind me.

I pushed myself up and turned to find Justin face down on the floor, so utterly still that I knew he must be dead.

"You-" Bob gasped. "You've take a life with black magic. They will be looking for you, hunting you…and they will find you." His voice held an edge of fear.

Bob was never afraid.

It spurred my feet into moving even though my brain was still trying to catch up. I couldn't take my eyes off Justin, lying there face down, his glasses askew, eyes closed as if he was only asleep. But the utter stillness of his body gave away the truth: he was dead. I'd killed him, my thumb pressing my father's ring hard into the chest of the doll.

He had killed my father with that doll…with that ring. Then he had taken me in, playing the benevolent relative, providing me with everything money could buy.

Everything except love. That had died with my father.

He had pretended to raise me. In truth, that was taken care of by Bob and a succession of housekeepers. Justin was always busy, impatient with the questions and inexperience of a child. He'd never been mean, or cruel – just distant and uninterested in anything that didn't involve my wizardly education. And even that he left mostly up to Bob.

I tried to get to my feet, only to find the hallway swirling around me, a sharp pain in my chest restricting me to shallow, panting breaths.

"Harry? The High Council will be here any minute. There's no way they could not have noticed the power you used, not when they're right here in the house. You must be ready to answer their questions, Harry. This was self-defense – you may be able to persuade them to be lenient. Harry? Harry!"

Bob's face, drawn with concern, swam before my eyes. I understood what he was saying, but everything seemed distant and unimportant. Trivial, even; especially compared to the way my legs were shaking and the fact that I couldn't seem to take in quite enough air.

Another wave of vertigo hit me, and I collapsed, just missing Justin's body. The doll and the ring fell from my hand, already stained with blood from the gouge made by the table leg Justin had flung at me. I closed my eyes, both to shut out the sight of the body and to concentrate on breathing, Bob's frantic voice fading away.

Something grabbed my shoulder, pulling me up to my knees. A hand as strong and implacable as steel, fingernails like claws digging into the skin, made my eyes fly open. Just inches from my face was a woman – a withered old crone, black eyes bright with malice.

"You! Boy! What have you done?"

"What?" My voice was as weak as I felt. I struggled briefly, but it had no effect on the wrinkled, bony hand holding me upright.

"You killed Morningway! Who are you?" She shook me like a terrier with a rat, and I gasped as the dizziness grew worse. If she didn't stop, I was going to lose my dinner, and I'd have no problems with losing it all over her.

"Ancient Mai," a deep, resonant voice echoed through my head. The old woman let go, and I fell forward, barely catching myself with my hands. "This is Morningway's nephew, Harry Dresden. He was to be introduced to us this evening, I believe. And this," an elegant, long-fingered hand came down to pluck up the doll and my father's ring, "would appear to be the murder weapon."

"It was self-defense," I heard Bob say quietly. "Justin tried to kill him."

"Now why would he want to do that?" the voice asked. I wanted to look up and see the face that went with it, but I was too busy trying not to vomit so I could keep breathing. "Dresden is Morningway's heir, is he not? Morgan?"

"He is, my lord," someone answered.

"Justin killed Harry's father, years ago. Harry only found out tonight. When he confronted Justin…" Bob trailed off, then resumed, "When it became clear that Harry was not inclined to forgive his uncle, Justin decided to cut his losses."

"You are unusually quick to defend this boy, Rothbert."

"Harry is – he has been a good student. He's a talented wizard, and a moral one. He has never performed black magic before this. I speak only the truth: Justin tried to kill him, and Harry acted in self-defense."

"I cannot believe it!" croaked the old woman. "Morningway had more skill in his little finger than this young whelp. The boy must have caught him by surprise, or been planning this for quite some time. He stands to inherit a great deal of material wealth…including the skull of Rothbert of Bainbridge. Other wizards have killed for less."

"I – I don't want it," I tried to tell them, but I could only manage a whisper.

"Harry?" Bob's voice was right behind me, but I couldn't summon the strength to raise my head. I wheezed, trying to pull in enough air to fuel my voice and join the conversation going on above my head. My vision was narrowing to the sight of my own hands, flat on the floor beneath me. They were getting closer…or I was sinking towards them as my arms lost the ability to hold me up.

Someone spoke above me, a bright blue light seared my eyes, and a terrible pain pierced my side. And suddenly, I could breathe again, filling my lungs with huge gasping heaves. The darkness around me lifted, replaced by lights bright enough to make my eyes water. I was shaking and exhausted, but able to sit up on my knees again and take in the crowd of people around me as I sucked in as much oxygen as I could with every breath.

"I don't want it," I told them hoarsely, meeting the circle of hostile gazes. "I don't want any of it."

The very tall, distinguished looking fellow in front of me looked thoughtful, pursing thin lips. It made him look vaguely constipated.

"Did you kill your uncle, Dresden?" he asked me point-blank.

"I – yes. But I didn't mean – it was an accident."

"You didn't mean to do it?" Ancient Mai – the old woman – shrilled. "But he is no less dead! The laws are clear, Merlin," she addressed the elegant guy, "he has killed with black magic. He must be executed!"

So this guy, I realized, must be the Merlin, the head of the High Council – supposedly, the most powerful wizard in the world.

"The laws are, as you say, clear. And yet, there is a provision for self-defense." His eyes, dark and cold, seemed to bore into my skull. "Tell me, Rothbert," he addressed Bob, "as you seem to be the only witness to this – what, exactly, happened here?"

Without the Merlin's gaze fixing me in place, I realized I was still on my knees. Standing was hard, but I could still breathe, even though my chest ached like someone had dropped a load of bricks on it. And if I was a little wobbly, well, I was pretty sure I had a concussion as well.

I tried to listen while Bob recounted the events that had led me to this point, but it was hard to concentrate, so I mostly just tried to stay upright. I also tried not to look at the horribly still form of my uncle, sprawled on the floor before me. I hadn't loved him – Justin wasn't a particularly lovable person, although he had a certain charisma that could be hard to resist. He hadn't gone out of his way to endear himself to me, either, but he was my only living relative, and I'd felt a certain fondness for him. I'd lived in his home, eaten his food, read his books, and I had thought that he, too, was at least…well, fond of me. I'd thought he cared. Instead, it seemed I'd been more of an investment: a tool to be sharpened and then used, and thrown away if I proved not to be useful.

It hurt. More than I thought it would, and more than I cared to admit.

"Dresden!"

The voice yanked me out of my befuddled musings, and I looked up to find the Merlin's eyes pinning me once again.

"Do you concur with the sequence of events as Rothbert of Bainbridge has related them?"

"Huh? Rothbert? Oh, Bob…yeah, whatever he says. He saw the whole thing," I mumbled.

"Harry –" Bob started, but a glance from the Merlin stopped him.

"You would entrust your defense – your life – to him, Dresden? To a cursed and condemned sorcerer, whose master you just killed?"

All I could do was blink at him. Trust Bob? Of course I trusted Bob. Really, he was the only person I did trust, completely and without reservation. He was friend, teacher, and father figure all rolled into one, and the only person since my father's death who I had felt truly cared about what I wanted to do with my life.

"Very well," the Merlin continued when I didn't answer. "Is there anyone here who has any questions to put to the prisoner?"

Prisoner?

I shivered at the word. I understood how the High Council worked – and I knew that the usual punishment just for working black magic, let alone killing someone with it, was death. But this was the first time I really felt the threat of it hanging over me.

"Morningway had great plans for you, boy!" Ancient Mai leaned in, her breath stale. "He spoke of you often, praising your skill and talent, and you repaid him with treachery. You could have been great – now, you will only be dead."

At this rate, I was going to die of irony before I was even sentence. My uncle had often pointed out Mai as an example of all that was wrong with the stuffy, cautious, hide-bound High Council. Under his influence, she'd have been one of the first to go, and here she was, defending him. She was supposedly one of the oldest living wizards on Earth, and she'd been fooled by Justin's slick charms. Age, apparently, hadn't brought her wisdom.

"Mai," the Merlin said warningly, "I have not yet pronounced a sentence, and the Council has not yet voted on it. Please restrain yourself." He paused, touching the tips of his fingers together in a gesture that was very like Bob.

"You shall live, Harry Dresden." He continued to speak over Ancient Mai's protests. "You shall give up your inheritance to the High Council: the Morningway fortune and this house. You may take away with you only your personal belongings, after they have been inspected by a Warden. You will remain in Chicago, and a Warden will monitor your activities and your use of magic. If there is any evidence that you have performed black magic at any time, you will be executed on the spot, without trial."

I gaped at him, trying to take everything in.

He glanced at Bob. "Rothbert of Bainbridge has displayed a surprising loyalty to you this day. You must have made quite an impression on him, Dresden. Ownership of his skull, therefore, shall pass to you."

A swell of protest came from the crowd, but the Merlin ignored them. "However, the fact remains that you have killed another human being with black magic, and there must be some punishment for that."

"What – what punishment?" I asked. My head was spinning. In the span of perhaps an hour, I'd learned that my uncle murdered my father, I'd killed my uncle, and had been tried for murder. Due process, in the wizarding world, was mighty quick.

"You shall be drained of all the power you currently possess. It will return, in time," he seemed to think that he was being reassuring.

I heard Bob gasp, and Ancient Mai cackle. The Merlin looked over the congregation of wizards. "Does anyone object to this sentence?" Silence greeted him, and he turned back to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. At first, I thought this was more of the reassurance, which actually had almost the opposite effect.

And then my vision whited out as my entire body convulsed in agony. It seemed like the Merlin was trying to pull my insides out through the hole he opened up in my shoulder with a single stabbing finger. I would have screamed, but the pain stole my breath away. It probably only took a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, it was over. I felt my knees buckle, a cry ripped from my throat that I couldn't hear over the roaring in my ears. My arms felt numb, and I couldn't move them to catch myself even though falling seemed to take hours rather than a split second. My head struck the floor, and I fell again – this time into the happy void of unconsciousness.

Bright light shining on my face woke me hours later. I opened my eyes, squinted into the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the big windows, and tried to raise my arm to shield them from the light. This time I heard the moan that echoed down the hallway. Every muscle ached, my shoulder was a screaming mass of agony, and the back of my hand felt like someone had stuck needles in it.

I lifted my head this time, which wasn't much better. A throbbing headache radiated from a hot, dull ache on the back of my head. Using my uninjured hand, I could feel a swollen lump on my scalp, but the skin didn't seem to be broken.

"Harry?" The quiet voice was tentative in a way I'd never heard before. "Harry, you must wake up. You need help, and you have to leave the house before the Warden returns."

"Bob? What – what happened?" I made myself sit up, and the groan that the maneuver forced out of me was scary even to myself.

"The Merlin drained you of power. Don't worry," he added swiftly, "he only took what you had at the moment. It's no different from expending it on a spell – it's just a great deal more painful, and will take longer to heal." He gestured at my shoulder, and I looked down.

My shirt and jacket were soaked with blood, the cloth torn around a small hole that had been dug into the flesh. The blood had trickled down my arm to my hand, the back of which looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. Dazedly, I picked out a few splinters of wood.

"That was from your uncle. He tried to…well, impale you." Bob pointed at the table leg that had been flung with enough force to drive it several inches deep into the wall.

"And my head?" My voice rasped painfully out of a raw throat.

"Justin threw the table at you. You also hit it on the floor when you fainted."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Even that hurt.

Bob sighed. "You fainted when the Merlin drained your power. Come on, Harry, you can't linger here. The Warden will be back soon. Do you have any money?"

I crawled over to the wall, using its support to pull myself to my feet. "Um…not much. I came straight from the airport."

"Well, I'm afraid the only thing you can take from the house is me – my skull, that is. And every wizard's door will be closed to you now. You'll have to find a place to stay – and a job, I suppose. There's nothing I can do to help you, Harry."

I finally looked at him – really looked at him. He seemed the same as always, untouched and unruffled, but his eyes held a depth of concern I'd never seen there before.

"Why?"

He looked puzzled. "Harry – "

"Why did you defend me? Without you, I'd be dead. You saved me twice – from my uncle and from the High Council. My uncle owned you – and I killed him. Why?"

Bob stepped closer to me. If he'd been solid, living, I'd have been able to feel his breath on my face. "Because he owned me, Harry. He treated me like a possession, and you have always treated me like a person. Because you may not be a smart wizard, but you're a good man. I've been around for a very, very long time, and I haven't met many good men." He moved back, and smiled a little. "Now, please, Harry – it's time to leave this place." He dissolved in a cloud of black smoke and sparkles, and I followed it unsteadily to his skull.

Bob was right, I thought a few minutes later, taking one last look at the house that had been my home for more than a decade. The reason I'd left to travel the world a year ago hadn't been to see the world, to meet new people and learn new kinds of magic. I'd left because my uncle had finally begun to show an interest in me, telling me all about the stuffy High Council, the out-dated rules and traditions, and all the ways he thought it could be better. He'd begun testing the extent and range of my power, and it was clear now that his intention had been to use me against the High Council. I hadn't known, at the time, why his attention made me so uncomfortable.

I turned away from the house and stumbled into sunshine that felt too bright, too cheerful. My body ached, weary not just from my physical injuries, but from lack of magic, from too much knowledge. I'd killed a man. I'd used black magic to do it, however accidental and unintentional. I could hardly believe I was still alive, and at the moment, I wasn't completely sure if I wanted to be.

But I went on, out into the world to make my way as best I could, not thinking any farther ahead than where I could sleep tonight. All I had to fall back on was what my father had taught me, so very long ago: to keep going through the bad times, hoping to find good ones on the other side.

fin