wizard for hire

Harry Dresden and his daughters

I’ve been wondering how is Harry going to introduce his two daughters to each other? 

I like to imagine Harry crouching down to Margaret and producing a box or some other object and saying “I’d like to introduce you to your half sister, she’s a spirit of intellect who lives in this box, her name is…”  Margaret then gets worried that Harry is crazy so hugs Mouse tight looking to him for reassurance and so Mouse nods his head sagely. 

Or,  Margaret freaks out because she thinks her sister is dead and she can’t handle that and harry freaks out because he doesn’t know how to calm his daughter down and that makes him sad. 

I have no idea how spirit baby will react to the meeting of her human half sister but it should be awesome. 

wizard-for-hire  asked:

"Oh, it’s worse than that, Sophie. If I fail, I don’t get paid.” [this is SOOO Kincaid...]

@wizard-for-hire

And how, again, was that her problem? 

“Look, first off, it’s Soph-ia. Not Sophie.” Only her father had ever been allowed to call her Sophie. “And secondly… Look, I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t help you. I don’t work for Vlad anymore.” 

4 Books for the Supernatural Hiatus

Supernatural is on hiatus… again. Here’s some reading material that will get you through it.

1. The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher

It’s sort of like what would happen if Dean embraced magic. Harry Dresden is Chicago’s only wizard-for-hire (he put an ad in the phone book and everything, bless him). Despite being a wizard, he has a tendency to solve his problems with sheer power (less of a Hermione, more of a Simon Snow, if you will). While he does work with the things that go bump in the night often enough, he also does his share of hunting. Storm Front is the first book in the series. Give it a go.

2. Night Owls by Lauren M. Roy

One of our main characters is a hunter while the other is a vamp, and plenty of monsters are part of the team on this one - but you’ll find your share of wicked beasties in need of slaying as well. Also, there’s a pair of hunter siblings in this book that could give Sam and Dean a run for their money as far as family drama and devotion to each other go, and did we mention that one of the main characters runs an all-night bookstore? Icing on the cake.

3. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

There’s a demon named Crowley and he’s teamed up with a conservatively-dressed angel to prevent the higher powers of Heaven and Hell from unleashing the apocalypse. I really shouldn’t have to say any more.

4. American Gods by Neil Gaiman

Is it cheating to have two Neil Gaimans on this list? No? Good. Because American Gods is the road-trip book *shoves On the Road into a cupboard* THE ROAD TRIP BOOK… for fans of paranormal fiction (though, you might give Cormac McCarthy’s The Road a look, too). If the frequently eerie glimpses of small-town Americana are part of what you like about Supernatural, you’ll have a good time with American Gods.

Back in New York

*Ok so I decided to write a bit of a mini-series with Newt and Tina. It starts out as an exposition kind of thing instead of your usual romantic Newtina fanfic. Enjoy!* 

Chapter 1 – Back in New York

“Welcome back, Mr. Scamander.” President Picquery said dryly. Newt Scamander kept his head low and his gaze fixed to floor. After all, this was a dire situation. Just three hours previously, Newt had charged the camp of MACUSA-hired wizards, jinxing and hexing as many as he felt necessary. In the very center of their camp was the sole reason for Newt’s daring attack—a beautiful Antipodean Opaleye, tied down with heavy chains and bound with ropes doused in poisons that scalded her skin. Newt suspected President Picquery wouldn’t hear his story and would imprison him if he didn’t play his cards right. He was no use to any creatures rotting in prison. Unfortunately, playing his cards right was one of Newt’s foremost weaknesses.
“Is this really necessary?” Newt asked, jingling the shackles that bound his hands and feet. President Picquery’s scrutiny was smoldering, burning into Newt’s chest as if he were a real criminal.
“You tell me, Mr. Scamander.” Picquery challenged, leaning forward in her chair. Newt shuffled his feet, wishing desperately that he could spread his cramping legs apart. At first glance, one might say that Newt needed a week’s worth of rest. His hair was plastered to his head in an unruly mess; his face was streaked with soot stains; an open gash zig-zagged across his left his eye; his leather boots were caked in sludge and a suspicious smelling substance (presumably dragon dung). Newt, however, was itching to continue. Despite his well-timed charge into the MACUSA camp, he was unable to break the enchanted ropes to free the dragon (he nicknamed her Smidgens). When his wand failed him, he clamped it between his teeth and resorted to his hands.The potions rendered his palms useless, burning his fingertips and scoring deep marks wherever it touched. He was tackled, gagged, chained, and hit over the head with a heavy log. He regained consciousness in the interrogation room. It was a familiar sight, but an unwanted sight all the same. Instead of Mr. Graves questioning him, President Picquery was doing the dirty work. No one stood behind him this time, either. Four months previously, Tina would have been standing behind him. At the thought of Tina, Newt felt a heavy weight rest upon his shoulders.There was no doubt that, as an auror, Tina had heard of his capture. He fondly remembered his farewell to her, as well as the promise to return and deliver his published book to her. He had dreamed up many scenarios during his many hours in his “briefcase zoo” (as his mother called it), never deciding on which one he preferred. The thought of returning in cuffs and shackles hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Mr. Scamander, do you realize the severity of your offense?” President Picquery’s voice broke through Newt’s thoughts. He blinked away Tina’s face, which had successfully broken through his mental barricade.“They were hurting the Opaleye.” Newt replied simply. He was used to these arguments, even in his home country. There would always be a chunk of population who never realized the value of the fantastic beasts that lived among them. Newt, ever since boyhood, had inadvertently dedicated himself to these beasts. He saved creatures whose homes were destroyed by muggles and magical people alike; he raised the young of parents who had been captured or killed. His manuscript, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, was published to educate the poor in knowledge. For two weeks, Newt tracked the Antipodean Opaleye dragon, recording her flight patterns and sketching. She was one of his own, even if she never spotted him. Then, Newt caught a glimpse of the weapons they’d use to bring her down…Tina will understand. The thought was unexpected, but neither sides of Newt’s conscience disputed it. Tina would understand—that, Newt was positive of. Could she possibly help Smidgens out of this debacle?

“I’m prepared to release you, Mr. Scamander, on the terms that you will never again interfere with a MACUSA operation. Is that understood?” Picquery’s voice was stony, yet it held a hint of smugness. Did she honestly believe she had conquered this magizoologist? Newt raised his gaze to stare back into her leer, equaling it with a look of defiance. Pure adrenaline was flowing through his veins, now. Picquery was taking her time of leaving the room, tossing remarks over her shoulder as she did so. “An auror will escort you from the building.” were her parting words before the door clicked shut. Newt didn’t have time to wait.

“Pickett, wake up!” Newt whispered loudly. There was a scuffling within the fabric of his coat’s top pocket. “Pickett, I need your help.” Newt was speaking directly into his coat material now. To his delight, the denizen of his coat, a spindly green bowtruckle, appeared. Pickett blinked lazily at Newt, obviously holding a grudge against Newt for their roasting experience.“I’m sorry about the fire, Pickett.” Newt said affectionately, wishing he could offer his hand to Pickett. “Pickett please…” Newt pleaded, his voice catching at the very end. Pickett begrudgingly accepted Newt’s apology before informing him of the chain’s enchantment. Newt was grateful for Pickett’s magical charm sensitivity. Had the bowtruckle attempted to free Newt, he’d have dissolved into a pile of shredded greens.It was several minutes of agonizing frustration before the sound of footsteps approached from the outside world. Newt was having trouble formulating a plan. He couldn’t concentrate when he didn’t have the use of his hands. To bridge the gap, he relayed his thoughts to Pickett, who thoroughly voiced his dismay in Newt’s ideas. Push came to shove when the door squeaked open and Pickett dove into Newt’s pocket, quivering in fright.

“Newt?” Until his name was spoken, Newt didn’t realize just how much he yearned to hear that particular voice speak it. Memories of December, 1926, came rushing back—especially a promise made before boarding a boat to England. Newt sought the right words to speak, but none came. Porpetina Goldstein stood in the doorway, pink in the face and visibly out of breath, clutching the key to Newt’s freedom. Also, floating alongside her was another great comfort to Newt—his briefcase and wand. Newt could do nothing but stare while Tina struggled to release him from his shackles. She released mutterings of concern and blasphemy for Picquery locking him up so tightly. Newt wasn’t used to the fussing and was relieved when his legs and hands fell apart from each other. He sprang from his chair, moving too quickly for his contracted legs to balance. Tina grabbed a hold of his coat, pulling him closer to her so as to steady him. He teetered on the spot, towering several inches over her. Newt let his eyes find hers,losing himself in their color.
“Thank you.” he nodded, the corners of his lips twitching into a smile. Tina turned several shades pinker before she surrendered her hold on his coat.

“What happened to you?” she asked, taking in his burnt exterior. He sheepishly backed away, rubbing his aching wrists. He didn’t realize the extent of the damage to himself until just then. His trousers were ripped near the bottom and burnt in several places while his coat had full-blown holes singed through the fabric. Sweat dripped from his forehead and he was vaguely aware of the smell of burnt hair. Tina’s main concern, however, was the slash above Newt’s eye. She reached forward, gently tracing her finger along the tender skin of the wound. Newt wanted to tell her not to worry,wanted to tell her that he had looked worse before. The genuine concern in her eyes made Newt numb to thinking. Her voice, far away, told him to follow her. 

Newt became conscious again after meekly following Tina through several long corridors and two flights of stairs. They arrived at a long hallway with scattered doors on either side, marked with very important-sounding names. Tina stopped along a door marked Porpentina Goldstein, opening it wide for Newt. “Ladies first.” he said pleasantly, making an awkward motion with his suitcase. Tina flashed him a suspicious look before entering the office ahead of him. Newt followed behind her, desperately wishing to go somewhere where he felt at ease. Tina was already behind her desk, opening the drawer and shoving something deep inside it. Newt swiveled around,studying every corner of the office. Just like Tina’s personality, the office was neat and orderly with the occasional coffee mug that needed cleaning up, or a piece of paper crumpled and carelessly tossed into a corner. Bookshelves and filing cabinets lined the walls, ceasing only to allow the window to let in natural light. The coziest place to sit was the rug; the other only sitting furniture was as strict office chair. Newt drew his attention to Tina. He couldn’t help but notice the way her pastel blue dress perfectly complimented her complexion. She was sifting through books, scanning their yellowed pages for something of interest.
 “I have a remedy here somewhere.” Tina muttered. Newt stepped closer, peering over her shoulder at the potion book she clutched. “For what?” he asked innocently. Tina let out an exasperated sigh. “For you!” Her words startled Newt, who was suffering from a sudden bout of short-term memory loss. He became aware that a channel of blood had begun to form, traversing his temple and making a daring escape for his cheek.“I-I have something.” said Newt quickly, swinging his briefcase in front of him.It landed on Tina’s desk with a thud before he unclasped the top and swung it open. Tina instinctively took a step back, fearing a creature might make a reckless attempt to escape—again. Newt felt no embarrassment for the situation that took place four months earlier. In fact, he viewed it as a stroke of good luck! 

Newt stepped into the briefcase. It was second nature to compress his shoulders to drop neatly onto the floor of his workshop. Tina followed closely,her high-heeled feet appearing first before the rest of her body dropped in. Newt was already hard at work, shrugging his coat from shoulders, allowing Pickett to curl up on his shoulder and grabbing numerous jars from the cupboards that stuck to the wall overhead. He glanced up just in time to see Tina’s reaction of marvel, her eyes fixated to the rows of plants, jars and bottled remedies. (Newt had been hopeless in Potions class during school, but the closer Newt became to his lifelong passion, the easier it was to understand the properties of a concoction).
“I forgot what it looked like.” Tina said, catching Newt’s stare. He paused from mixing his Murtlap liquid to look her over. They shared a content look before Tina produced her wand from her pocket and turned to Newt’s coat. She whisked it, muttering the incantation “Scourgify!” and watched as Newt’s coat became its pristine Petrol blue again. With an additional flick, Newt was gaping at a fully repaired version of his coat. “I was never very good at cleaning spells.” Newt confessed, cumbersomely returning to his Essence of Murtlap. Admittedly, Newt was attempting to rush. Despite the wonderful, cozy feeling he got whenever Tina stood in his workshop, he was still on a mission to help Smidgens. The sooner he was healed, the sooner he could rescue her. Still, adrenaline high was weakening. The pain from his wound was making him slightly woozy. It was when he overturned his hand that Tina saw the horrible state of his fingers and palms. They were smarting.
“Newt! How did this happen?” she gasped as she lunged forward, softly taking his hands in hers. “Was it the dragon?” she asked quietly, giving off the first inkling that she knew exactly how Newt had been arrested. He defensively pulled his hands away and spoke. “No, it was the ropes they were using.” He felt like telling Tina exactly how it had been—how Smidgens had bellowed in pain as the rope’s liquids leaked between her scales, searing into her skin. He wanted to tell Tina how the burly men attacked her physically and verbally, spitting upon the legacy of Antipodean Opaleyes. He wanted Tina to understand that he was not the criminal, but Smidgen’s captors were.
“Was it bad?” Tina whispered. Newt glanced up and saw she was very close now. She had taken the liberty of pouring some of the Essence of Murtlap onto a white bandage. Newt nodded sullenly, his pent up emotions bubbling closer to his brim. “Here…” Tina said gently, laying the soaking bandage across his gash. It stung at first, but immediate relief ensued. Newt blinked gratefully at her. He wondered if she had experience with treatment, seeing as she and Queenie raised each other. “I got this from a throwing knife.” Newt pointed a grubby finger to his bandaged slash. Tina’s eyes widened, but she said nothing. Newt cleared his throat and continued his story.“Igor Orgnuk, he’s a famous—” “Dragon hunter.” Tina finished in disdain, much to Newt’s amazement. Tina shrugged it off and hid her face behind the back of her hand. Newt smiled widely, delighted by her knowledge and shared distrust in Igor Orgnuk. “We should bandage your hands.” Tina said lightly. Newt retracted his hands and flexed them, ignoring the pain that shot through his wrists. “No, ah, I need them.” Newt uneasily rocked from his heel to his toe,clasping his fingers behind his back. “My hands—I need my hands.” Newt turned away from Tina and took a long stride to the front of the workshop,reaching into the cupboard that housed his papers. “I’m not staying—I mean, Smidgens still needs my help.” Newt stammered over the subject, fumbling with the papers he withdrew from the cabinet. Newt couldn’t see Tina in his peripheral vision and he didn’t believe he could bear her face. She must view him as a hypocrite, a leaver, a person who never took any regard for his own personal safety or the personal well being of others. Well, half of that is true, Newt’s conscience reasoned. Everyone thought this of him, so why was Tina different? Newt didn’t want to answer himself. He grabbed all of Smidgens paperwork, shoveling it together in a nasty mess. There was still a chance they were in the forest, attempting to wrangle Smidgens into the dirt. Maybe they already had her, but they’d have to transport her a long way. He could reach her!

“Newt. Newt! NEWT!” Tina grabbed Newt’s arms, efficiently putting a stop to his frenzied panic. His eyes ventured to hers, lingering only for a moment, but that moment was enough to melt him. She didn’t stare in disgust or anger, nor in fear for his life (as others often did). Her eyes were alive and burning with compassion, centered solely on him. The weight of this slumped his shoulders and hit him squarely in the chest. He took a step back, instinctively turning away from Tina. Would this be another frivolous exchange like the last time? The last time… Leta Lestrange… Newt squeezed his eyes shut. His mind was a simple assortment of gears, each one functioning properly if he was caring passionately for a creature or beast. Was he supposed to say that way? Tina sighed sadly, coming closer to Newt with foggy eyes.

“I’m sorry, but the dragon is dead.” 

*Ahh, the drama. Give me some feedback*

9

Some outrageous sketches of a idea I had for perhaps a short animation. Its about a wizard and his dwarf servant hired as magical freelancers to do stuff in a mystical land like getting chased by dragons, capturing lake mermaids, spying on unicorns, fixing peasant problems etc.

the tall fellow in robes is the wizard Barok along with his servant Worm. I kind of base their relationship like the “Blackadder” series of Edmund and Baldrick. One smart and mean, the other kind and stupid.

The Confusion Around My Anniversary

For those interested in the larger story, here it is. When I first got hired, it was very clear Wizards was eager to hire me, so I talked with a friend of the family who was in Human Resources and the advice they gave me was to negotiate not for money (as it’s hard to change starting salaries) but to ask for every benefit I could think of.

I came up with a whole bunch of things and Wizards basically accepted them all. One of the requests was to have an earlier start date (back to January 1, 1995) for all benefits - at the time thinking of things like vacation and sick days. I would later also get stock benefits based on that date so it ended up being a great ask.

In order for HR to accommodate this, the only way to do it was to put January 1 in the computer as my actual start date. Many years later what that means is no one save me knows my actual start date because the official one is January 1 (which incidentally on paper makes me the employee that’s been employed consecutively at Wizards the longest - Charlie Catino with a start date in February 1995 is the actual record holder). 

The website wanted to surprise me so no one told me about the article. When I got online this morning, people started wishing me happy anniversary and I didn’t understand why. I asked in the Pit and they suggested I look at the website. The article was already public at that point, so there wasn’t anything to be done other than explain on social media that it was 10 days off.

So that is probably more than you need to know about my anniversary which I will be celebrating but not until October 30, 11 days from now.