Monthly Short Story Winner: Fanfic

This is the third year we’ve done Fanfic February (wow, time is fleeting…). The first year you could write whatever you wanted, last year I limited the books you could choose from. And this year I want you to write a fight scene between two characters (or groups of main characters) from different authors. FitzChivalry against Jorg Ancrath, Locke Lamora vs Jimmy the Hand, Kelsier’s crew against the Ketty Jay’s crew. You get the idea.

Be creative, there can be battles with magic, swords, minds, words, whatever you choose.

I’m not limiting you to special books but remember that it’s more fun for your readers if they know the characters. So if you choose something obscure, not everybody will get the jokes or the awesomeness of your story. 😉

Rules:

1. This must be prose or poetry.
2. It has to be fan fiction and has to contain characters from two different worlds/books/authors engaged in some kind of fight.
3. Prose must be 500-1500 words long.
4. Poetry must be 100-500 words long.
5. You will be disqualified if you exceed the limits, full stop. That’s why they’re called limits.

This month’s winning story was by Malcolm Pope (Rukaio_Alter on the forums), with “Mistaken Identity”.

Congrats on your win, Malcolm!

You can find all our entries here.

And now on with the story!

– – –

Author’s Note: The two series used were the Dresden Files (pre-Blood Rites) and…well, you should be able to guess the other. It also should be perfectly readable if you’ve never read the Dresden Files, so don’t let your unfamiliarity with the series put you off.

“Mistaken Identity”
by Malcolm Pope

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure it at your own risk.

As Chicago’s top (and only) practicing wizard-for-hire, there are certain small things you pick up on the job after a while, minor tips that make fighting the supernatural and unknown significantly easier. Some are fairly obvious. For instance, always avoid secluded alleys at night, never accept a deal with a Faerie and, when meeting with a Denarian, be sure to bring enough firepower to make a Southern militia feel inadequate.

Others tips, however, are much odder, but still every bit as important to remember. Do not trap mold demons in your car. Do not attend Sylph weddings covered in honey. Do not learn Latin through a correspondence course. The list goes on. And on. And on. The point is, it’s a long list. As such, I can be forgiven for occasionally forgetting a tip or three every once in a while. And, unfortunately, one morning I accidentally forgot one of the most vital of rules.

Never answer the door while holding your toothbrush.

Now, the first odd thing I noticed about the man at my doorway were his clothes. I’ll admit, I don’t tend to keep up with popular fashion these days but I’m fairly certain 16th century dress robes weren’t in the midst of making a comeback.

Then again, all trends had to start somewhere, right? Maybe this guy was trying to be the next hot thing? It may seem misguided, but I could respect the faith and confidence he had in his fashion sense.

“If you’re looking for the Renaissance Fair, it’s two blocks down from here.” I told the man. “The Transvestite Bar is on the other side of town.” What? Just because I respected the man’s confidence didn’t mean I wasn’t going to make fun of him for it.

The man didn’t look impressed. “You are the wizard Harry?”

“Yes.” I said in my most grand wizarding voice. “I are the wizard Harry.”

The man winced as I accidentally sprayed him with bits of spittle. I’d forgotten that I still had my toothbrush in my mouth while I was talking. However, when I moved to take it out, the man’s eyes widened. He drew a small stick from his pocket and flicked his wrist.

“Expelliamus!”

The toothbrush flew out of my hand, as if possessed, and flew straight into his. A cruel smile crossed the man’s face as he pointed his twig threateningly at me. I stared blinking at him for a few seconds before realization sunk in.

“Oh God,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s one of you lot isn’t it?”

“That’s correct.” The man sneered. “I am a Death Eater, blessed with the Dark Mark by the one true Wizard Lord himself! I have come to avenge my master and righteously destroy you in the name of our great ideology! No longer will you interfere in our glorious work to destroy the Muggle Scourge and-”

He was cut off quite suddenly by me slamming the door in his face.

“Boring conversation anyway,” I said, yawning, as I walked away.

* * *

Several minutes later, I was sitting in my armchair enjoying a nice cup of coffee. Behind me I could hear cursing and sparking sounds as Dark Mark, or whatever his name was, continued to unsuccessfully try and blast his way past my wards. He’d been at it for a while now. You had to admire his persistence, albeit not his common sense. I was tempted to just wait until he got tired and went home, but unfortunately I remembered something.

That bastard still had my toothbrush.

Now, I’m sure some of you are thinking it’s not worth it to fight a homicidal wizard for a toothbrush, but that wasn’t the only problem on my mind. I mean, sure Dark Mark had the fashion sense of a 9-year-old girl, but he was still dangerous. And, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want him to get any ideas about taking out his frustrations on any of my defenseless neighbors.

(Plus, it was a really nice toothbrush.)

So, I finished off my cup of coffee, put on my leather duster, grabbed one of my own wizarding tools of the trade and opened the door once more. Mark did not look impressed.

“I suppose you think you’re very clever.” He scowled.

“Yup,” I said.

“Well, not clever enough!” He raised his stick once more. “You should’ve escaped while you could. I won’t give you a second chance!”

I immediately slammed the door shut again.

What? Like I was going to resist that one.

* * *

“You do realize I hadn’t even locked the door that time?” I said when I reopened the door five minutes later. “All you had to do was open it normally.”

Mark looked even less impressed than he had before. I honestly was starting to fear his face might freeze that way.

“Are you done?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Well, that depends. Are you planning on giving me a third chance?”

“No,” Mark said, waving his stick. “I think I’ll kill you now. Avada Kedav-”

Before he could finish, I raised my revolver and shot him in the leg. Dark Mark went down screaming as the bullet shattered his kneecap. When he hit the floor, I stomped down hard on his hand, forcing him to release the stick he was holding and allowing me to snatch it up myself.

“Coward!” Mark screamed. “You would resort to Muggle technology in a wizard duel?!”

I let out a sigh. It looked like I was going to have to clear things up for Marky Mark here. I crouched down and grabbed the dark wizard by his hair, forcing him to look up.

“Okay, look buddy,” I said. “Do you see that sign by my front door? I want you to read it out in full.”

Mark shot me a hateful glare before turning his attention to the sign. “Wizard for hire. Lost items found. Paranormal Investigations. Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates. Harry Dre… Harry Dre…” He trailed off.

I gave him a nudge. “Go on.”

Dark Mark suddenly looked a lot less sure of himself. “Harry D-Dresden…”

There was a short silence as Mark looked ashamedly at the floor.

“You thought I was the Potter kid, didn’t you?”

“Mmrph.” Mark whimpered.

“You just heard the words ‘Harry’ and ‘Wizard’ and immediately jumped straight to the wrong conclusion.”

Mark didn’t say anything. Honest to God, he looked like he was about to cry. I’d almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for the whole ‘trying to kill me’ thing.

“Okay,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I think I’ve had about enough of this today. Stop bleeding all over my doorstep and get yourself inside before the neighbors see you. I’ll get someone to pick you up.”

Dark Mark didn’t even look up at me as he timidly dragged himself inside, leaving a trail of blood and dignity behind him. He looked so absolutely pathetic and heartbroken I honestly began to wonder if I’d gone too hard on him. It felt mean, like I had been picking on a disabled kid.

That said, if he bled on the carpet, I was going to shoot him a second time.

Keeping an eye on Mark, just in case he made any dodgy moves, I moved to the fireplace mantle and stuck his twig in the glass jar I had labelled ‘Emergency Toothpicks’. Five more of its kind were already inside.

After that, I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and stepped outside to clean up most of the blood before people starting asking awkward questions. Generally ‘a dark wizard did it’ doesn’t tend to convince police when they come inspecting disturbances. Not that I’d never tried that excuse, mind. Just that it rarely seemed to work.

However, as I looked outside, my heart stopped. I realized had been overconfident. I had missed a key detail in this confrontation and now… and now…

Something terrible had happened.

I stormed back inside, shooting a withering look at Mark, who visibly cowered and retreated into the corner. I was tempted to take out my anger on him, but I knew that that would do no good. Instead, I went to my phone and dialed the number I’d been told to use in cases like this.

“This is the Auror’s Office,” A crisp female voice spoke. “Hermione Granger speaking. How can I help you?”

“This is Harry Dresden!” I shouted, waving a small object covered in blood and spittle. “And you people owe me a new toothbrush!”

– – –

Congratulations again to Malcolm! If you’d like to enter our monthly writing contest, check out our forum for more information.

Happy Writing!

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