The Disney Files

Chapter 1: The Little Mermaid

AN: Yeah, I'm firmly stuck on the Dresden train. There is no escape, and honestly, who would want to leave?

In these fan fictions, which will undoubtedly host something of a romance bend to them, considering the source material, I will be picking and choosing characters to replace others with. I will not be plagiarizing Disney Movies, just with every single character replaced. For example, with this one, the only characters I've changed up are replacing Prince Eric with Thomas, and adding Harry to the mix, while editing the story some... As much as I love Harry and Susan/Harry and Murphy, or Thomas and Justine, these stories would be no fun without a little bit of variety, rather than Dresden people across space and time in the same story. And because, again, theft ain't my style, the plots will change as a result of these different characters.

One more thing. I will be playing with some of Butcher's rules here. I will avoid it as best as I can, because honestly, his system of magic is the best I've ever come across in fiction.

One: The Little Mermaid

"Isn't this great?" The prince's voice called from above. "The salty sea air, wind blowing in your face… A perfect day to be at sea!"

"Come on, Thomas," I called out, annoyed, "We need to be heading back to shore already."

He laughed from his place atop the crow's nest, before leaping off, hand snapping out to seize a fluttering rope mid-fall, which he rode down without a trace of difficulty. As he aimed his dazzling smile at me, the one that made single women swoon, single men weep, married men sigh in relief, and married women consider the merits of becoming a widow, I thought one thing.

I hate him.

That type of preternatural agility was only possible due to his parentage, of course, and the Demon, the Hunger that resided in his spirit. The Hunger was a weight that would forever drag at Thomas' conscience, so long as he held onto it, kept it chained to his humanity. In all honesty, I should have encouraged this free, happy use of his supernatural abilities.

And, if they came without the incredible good looks that drew women to him like flies to honey, and as a side-effect, away from me, I would never have an issue with it.

Yeah, I'm a jealous bastard, in both senses of the word. I can still get over myself though. I love Thomas. He's my brother, and I would die for him. That doesn't preclude wanting to sometimes kill him, though.

"What's the matter, Harry? Tired of seeing your Prince show how great he is at sailing?"

"More like tired of being out on the water for eight hours. And how, exactly, are you great at sailing?" I couldn't help the smirk. "Does pointing in a direction and telling your men 'Go that way' count?"

"Of course it does," he dismissed, unruffled. "Then again," he smiled innocently, "This does too." Turning his back to me, he began to look at the sky, judging the winds, or the clouds, or the position of the sun, or... something. And either this information informed his decision, and he tied fancy knots and pulled ropes into the perfect positions because of what he learned from them, or he was completely bullshitting me, and playing with knots to make a point because he knew I couldn't sail my way out of a bathtub.

"Whatever you say, My Lord," I mocked, sketching the shallowest bow I could manage. "Your Court Wizard advises that you return us to shore, however."

"What," he innocently asked, "is my chief advisor feeling... Seasick?"

"You could say that," I grumbled, looking at the sea around me. "Something doesn't feel right. It's not overt, I just feel like there's… I feel something wrong, deep down in my gut."

"Hm. Well, call me crazy," Thomas joked, "but I don't want to end this beautiful day prematurely because you have indigestion. Come on, King Triton's having a day off," he claimed, gesturing at the clear skies above and unusually gentle ocean below. "We should take an easy day when it comes to us, not watch it until things go wrong."

"Watching until things go wrong is my whole job description, Your Grace, along with pulling both of our hides out of the fire when things go up in flames."

"After setting the flames, of course," My brother said diplomatically, nodding along to his own words as if they were sage advice before blinding me with another smile.

I snorted, and walked off to stand by the wheelman. Terrible habit of trying to seize the last word, my brother. "Only when your sword arm isn't enough to do the trick, Your Grace," I called over my shoulder.

Well, it runs in the family, I guess.

Regardless of who got what last word, and who was being more mature, (me, obviously,) there was only so much I could take of His Royal Pain in My Ass at a time, and a whole day, trapped on a ship with him, a set of sailors both leery of anyone who claimed to do magic and far past tired of my own charming personality, and my faithful woolly mammoth, Mouse, who was much more of a listener than a talker, I had had enough. I love my brother, but I didn't love his habit of dismissing my wariness. After all, it was only paranoia if the invisible demon trying to eat your face wasn't real, and so far I had a painful habit of being right more often than not.

Sighing, I went to stand at the aft end of the ship, staring back out at the waves, carved driftwood staff set in the crook of my arm.

So when the deep blue ocean began to dye itself black, and the light faded from the sky as storm clouds appeared from absolutely nowhere, I had the best seat in the house.

Before I could join in the panic of voices and thudding boots as the crew rushed about to prepare for the sudden storm, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and smelled a familiar scent. Before I knew what I was doing, my staff was in the air, expelling energy in a thin stream, and my finger was pointed at the water. Half on instinct, and half as my brain caught up to my body, I screamed out a defiant "Fulminos!"

With a rolling crack of thunder, and a blinding flash of light as the electricity roared out of my hand, the water nearby exploded into an angry, frothing mass of boiling brine and steam.

I collapsed. I had moved lightning like that before. Usually though, I was the one to call it down from a cloud, meaning I had time to prepare for it, rather than let it roar through my body and try to muscle it away from anything too important with the magic that sat inside of me. To fight off a bolt of lightning without any time to prepare was no simple matter. Had I not recognized that feeling of dread, the smell of ozone, and felt the hair stand up in my neck... Well, either the bolt would have struck the boat and set it on fire, or it would have struck me unawares, and I would either be dead, or otherwise much worse off than I currently was.

"Get us to shore!" Thomas shouted, in his most commanding voice. If I wasn't in immense pain by way of electrocution, I would have felt touched by the fact that his voice was colored with concern. As it was, I only felt like I wanted to pass out.

Instead, I struggled to my feet, stomach roiling and muscles twitching without my input.

"Harry, sit back down!" Thomas commanded. Part of me wanted to, but as the rain started sheeting down over us, I shook myself, and turned to him.

"Let me help!" Is what I wanted to say, standing my ground firmly as I told my brother and prince that I was not going to sit on the sidelines.

"Le-augh!" Is what came out, as the floor buckled beneath me, as I stumbled backwards and over a railing, and as I hit the ocean hard.

Uncooperative as my muscles were, violent as the waves instantly became, and weighed down as I was by my boots and ever-present duster, swimming was near impossible.

Luckily for me, and terribly for my brother and his sailors, lightning struck the mast, and as it cracked and splintered, a fairly large, jagged piece of wood landed next to me, only a little bit on fire, and a rogue wave took care of that small problem for me. Desperate, I grabbed at the makeshift flotation device, and tried not to choke on the next wave as it drove me below, and nearly made me knock myself senseless on the wooden mast below me.

After spitting out some of the angry water, and sloppily wiping my eyes clear of the stuff, I raised my staff, still clutched firmly in my right, in defiance of the next wave.

"Forzare!" I screamed in a higher voice than I'd like to admit to. At my command, a lance of angry, red energy split the wave before it caught me and drove me under.

Even so, that unfocused, half-cocked blast of energy took a lot out of me. Trying to push a spell out over running water was hard enough, but doing it half submerged in a frothing ocean, as rain began to sheet down from overhead? Well, it spoke to the amount of fear and power I pushed into that spell, to have come out half as well as it did.

So, sagging against my makeshift raft like I was, left entirely drained from that spell... I think it was understandable that I wasn't prepared to deal with the next wall of water to come crashing down on me.

And that I fell almost entirely unconscious when it slammed me down under the waves.

All I really remember after that panic between consciousness, and what was meant to be my slow, sinking, terrifying demise is replaced by a pair of soft, delicate hands that both felt like velvet on my skin, and sent what felt like an electric shock running through my whole body for an instant, though my eyes were too heavy to open, bracing under me, pulling me towards the next life...

Then a beautiful song, one I struggled to convince myself truly was an angel, in spite of how heavenly it sounded. It was hard to believe I'd gotten the better end of two options, but I threw myself into that belief with gusto.

And then Mouse. Barking as loudly as he did when trying to scare off some spooky monster of one sort or another, though this time it was to wake me up, and draw attention to my place on the beach where I lay, my hand closed loosely around the remaining half of my splintered staff, and shifting uncomfortably due to soaked sand in places it should not be.

With a grumble, I flopped out a hand, lightly bopping Mouse on the nose as he snuffled over every inch of me in some sort of doggy investigation. He took this boppage with great excitement, and began to lick my face in what I can only assume to be hunger and his first, long-plotted attempts at eating me whole.

"Back, foul beast," I murmured, still dazed.

There was no mercy in the smile that seemed to overtake the mutt's muzzle. The licking resumed with gusto, and I found myself spluttering as my face traded its layer of sea salt and brine in for mutt spit and dogasaurus breath.

"Harry!" Thomas called out as a couple of his men escorted me to where he sat on the throne. Before I knew what was happening, Thomas was out of the seat and rushing down the steps to wrap me in a bone-crushing hug.

I returned the embrace as best as I could. Ever since Thomas had found me and told me of our shared blood, he had been the only family I'd known since my father died. And after he'd found me, stain of a bastard against his father's honor or not, he had begged me to help him to properly rule, and to help him defend his kingdom, after his father and elder sister had killed each other in a power struggle. As it was, what with him being all of twenty-five, and me at twenty, he didn't feel fully comfortable in his throne. To the amusement of the royalty of surrounding countries, he had yet to officially crown himself as King. They liked to claim that it was because he was a child, afraid of the responsibility, and much preferring his whores and wine to actual work.

As his brother, I knew that it was his Hunger, the ever-present monkey on his back that liked to meddle in every aspect of his life. The Hunger mainly pushed him in sexual ways, to get intimate with women, and to take bites of their soul, to turn the energy keeping them alive into supernatural mojo filling him with strength, and never doing anything for his demon but whetting its appetite. But it craved other things. Like any social animal, (and vampires, like humans, were extremely social animals,) it strove for dominance, and that sort of drive in the hands of a ruler could lead to terrible, international-disaster-level, war-starting incidents.

"Thomas," I said quietly, pulling away from him, "something started that storm. You know that, right?"

Solemnly he nodded. "I figured as much." A smile sparked to life on his face. "Maybe next time, if there's a little warning from my Court Wizard, it might help to avoid any unpleasant, stormy nights."

I huffed out a small laugh, before rolling my eyes. "One can only hope."

Just to be clear, this ain't over.

Jeez, I should probably learn to focus on one story at a time, has h? Ah well, it probably won't be any time soon.

Anywhoozits, Good Luck, and Happy FanFic-ing!

Monkey Typewriter

Edit 1: Harry's staff has now been busted, in early Dresden tradition, right before when he'll really need it.