This is a short 4-parts story inspired by the concept seen in multiple fanfics (including some by Jennythe3, The Storymaster1000, etc...) where a hunted Dani calls Danny another name. Enjoy!
Disclaimer : I do not own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter.
Confused, part 1 : Fugitive
She was exhausted, completely and utterly exhausted. She was running on fumes, just on the verge of losing her cohesion and reverting to the primordial ectoplasmic soup that had been used to engineer her. She'd been fleeing for hours, using all those neat little tricks developed to survive as a homeless wanderer. Her tactics, very efficient on fools, worked well against her current crop of opponents as they were far from Mensa material. The problem was that they compensated with numbers, determination, sheer relentlessness and that strange gadget called a Venkman oscillator that accurately pinpointed her location.
A lesser being would have given up long ago, accept her fate and let her foes capture her for experimental purposes. She wasn't such a being. The genes extracted from the one she mentally called daddy had gifted her with an unhealthy streak of stubbornness. She was steadfast in her resolve not to concede to those… those… those… She lacked the vocabulary for a proper qualifier. She knew words from the streets that fitted but she had promised herself not to use them after she had learnt her daddy's disapproval of swearing.
Her wonderful mental fortitude was proving insufficient compared to the numerous advantages of her pursuers. They had number, technology, even the law. A being such as she wasn't recognized any rights. Her only real chance was to get to her daddy before they caught her.
A blast of electricity struck the joined appendage that replaced her legs in rapid flight, taking her out of her ghostly form and sending her tumbling to the ground. All those hours of flight for naught. They had her. Her tiredness weighted on her, robbing her of her capacity to transform back. The hard landing had jolted her left arm right out of its socket. Fear and pain filled her eyes with tears. She no longer was Dani Phantom, the strong combative spirit. She was Danielle, a scared preteen alone in a cruel world.
"Great shot" she heard as her opponents closed in for capture. A crowd of witnesses was gathering around but she dared not hope for help. Being a supernatural entity wasn't a good thing in the current climate. A huge fraction of the population was still lashing out after the Great Reveal and the Wizarding War months ago. She half-expected passersby to lapidate her.
Her captors approached until they stood before her, a standard three-person subdual team. There was a woman and two men. They appeared more like bodyguards or enforcers than government-issued paranormal hunters. Broad-shouldered, stern-faced, wearing earpieces and white custom tailored suits, each was holding a large, mean-looking energy rifle.
Frightened, wounded, exhausted, she had no spunk left to mock the obviously phallic appearance of the weapons or taunt the opposition into a rage-induced mistake. The hopelessness of her situation was gaining more and more control on her emotions and she started reacting like the young child she really was. She started crying in earnest.
Being good government drones and, as such, totally devoid of pity, the three agents didn't respond at her display of weakness. They were going to grasp her and seal her fate when they suddenly stopped and reoriented their weapons at a point beyond her.
"Get back citizen." the woman ordered authoritatively.
Dani checked over her shoulder. She could see an indistinct blur through the haziness of her tears, a black-haired teen on the smallish size standing apart within the circle of bystanders, half-crouched in a fighting stance. He radiated power.
What power it was! The last time she had seen Danny, it hadn't been that potent, that incredible. Its taste had evolved too. It used to be cool and light, mildly tingly, fruity and so refreshing. Now it evoked the dense warmth of a comforting hot chocolate in the middle of the night after a nightmare. It tasted just like one of her best memory of her daddy.
Hope soared in her heart at seeing him unexpectedly so far from his home, providing her with a measure of energy, just enough to get to her feet and jump into his arms, narrowly dodging two rifle blasts in the process.
She meant to call him by his name yet fill that single word with the sum of the gratitude, the love and the need she associated with her mental nickname for him. She had truly meant it but, in the confusion created by her less-than-stellar emotional and physical state, it came out all wrong. She used her private word, her inner word.
"Daddy!"