Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Danny Phantom. Consider them disclaimed! This story, however, is of my own weaving. I'm quite proud of it, actually.

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in memoriam

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"Potter, you better come see this."

Harry James Potter didn't bother looking up from the papers that he was signing. It had been a long night, and instead of heading home he'd ended up falling asleep on his desk. He really should make good use of that sofa in the corner one of these days. While his chair did have a decent recline, using wrinkled up parchment to lay on wasn't the best pillow. Especially when the ink was still wet...

He wiped the corner of his mouth in disgust.

All of the recent raids were getting to him, clearly.

Harry sighed in defeat. Finally, he looked up with bleary eyes, "If this is about the report, I'm workin' on it right now. I should have it in by-" checking the watch that ticked faithfully at his wrist and finding that it was already a little over half past seven in the morning, he continued, "-around nine or ten, maybe?"

Registering that the wizard in front of him was not, in fact, a member of his department or an intern, he sat up a bit straighter in his chair.

"You're wanted in the Department of Mysteries."

Tired eyes widened behind thick frames—had there been a breakthrough? He'd been promised long ago that if anything were to happen regarding this particular subject, he would be one of the first to know. A perk of being infamous, he supposed.

Another peek at his watch showed the time to be precisely seven forty-three AM. It looked like the report would have to wait—he couldn't quite stifle the relief he felt when presented with the chance to stretch his legs and, perhaps, stop to get some coffee.

Before he could stand, the Unspeakable was out the door. His own body protested as he stood, practically running to catch up with the taller man's long strides.

There was a reason why Harry never left his office. He could handle the joking jabs he got from Ron about how he was becoming the next Mad-Eye Moody, but the curious eyes that followed him everywhere were another story entirely. Harry kept his eyes forward as he followed the other man—he believed that his name was Clements, to the elevator.

The dependable ping of the lift transporting them from level two to nine was the only sound to accompany them as they made their way. Harry itched for a distraction—any distraction, even that horrible instrumental music that played in muggle businesses—to disturb the fluttering of his overexcited heart. When the wait was finally over, he let the other man lead the way through the empty hall. They only stopped once they entered a room full of nondescript doors that spun faster than an out-of-control broomstick.

Thank goodness Harry was used to those.

When the room reoriented itself, the other man pointed to a nondescript door. "Minister Shacklebolt is waiting for you," he said, sounding bored, "Said we shouldn't disturb the scene until you got here to take a look." With this, Clements turned on his heel, vanishing through yet another door.

Harry frowned. The man could have at least allowed Harry to thank him! But then again, maybe it was best that he'd seemed so disinterested. He'd take that over excessive questions any day.

Deciding to focus on the task at hand, Harry held his breath. The doorknob was cold and hard.

Coming down here never got any easier.

As he opened the door, a frigid wind seemed to radiate from within. He shivered.

The place lived up to its name as the Death Chamber—it had been twelve years, but the memories were crystal clear—the vibrant lights flying through the air like deadly fireworks, the sounds of battle, and, of course, the pain of loss. His godfather. Sirius Black. A fugitive to the end, but now a hero in the public's eyes.

His hands balled into fists as he forced himself to take deep breaths—in, out. His eyes wandered across the room's vast expanse to the source of the whispers that eerily echoed throughout. The Veil.

Something had happened here, he realized with a start. The walls had craters and the ground littered in debris. Almost unconsciously, he fingered the well-worn wood of his wand. Somehow, it emanated a comforting warmth.

"You must be wondering why I called for you on such short notice." Harry jumped, startled. It took him a moment to get his breathing back under control. Even under less stressful circumstances, this room brought out the worst in him. The Minister's mahogany skin shone in the faint light, displaying fine lines on his face and distinct dark circles under his eyes. Despite this, he stood proudly, wearing a small, knowing smile.

Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't a natural leader. The kind of person that watched from the shadows, he preferred to sit back and observe. He'd surprised many of his critics, when, upon assuming the role of Minister, he'd flourished. Simultaneously diplomatic and straightforward in action, his guidance was what had brought the wizarding world into the beginning of a new era—one that Harry was, personally, proud to be a part of. Harry trusted Kingsley with more than his role in public office—he trusted him with his life. There weren't many others that he could say the same for.

Harry smiled despite himself, "You always have your reasons." he shifted his feet, continuing, "So…why are we here? Did something-"

"A being came out of the Veil alive."

It took him a moment to process what he'd heard. Disbelief and curiosity warred within him, fighting for dominance. Skepticism won out in the end. It was absurd, ridiculous, impossible—the Veil was for the dead and the dead only. Anyone who went through it alive never came out that way—in fact, they never came out at all.

He didn't get a chance to ask for more information before Shacklebolt continued,"We're not quite sure of the logistics" The gentility in his voice didn't suit him in the least, Harry decided, "Put up one hell of a fight, though. Started shooting green lights out of its hands. The entire Department is in a state of panic over it—thought it was the killing curse."

Rage coursed through Harry like FiendFyre."Why wasn't I called?" he said, nails digging bloody crescents into the soft skin of his palms.

The tiny voice in his head that had steadily been growing louder over the years—loud enough to drown out his voice of reason—was telling him that he'd been kept from this intentionally. After all, it had happened before. Sometimes, people close to him treated him like porcelain, tip-toeing around the past as one does near a fine china cabinet perched on creaky wooden slats. Sometimes, they treated him as though he was still a child. As though a bit of gentleness now would change what had happened.

But he wasn't a child, hadn't been one since the day he watched Dumbledore fall from the Bell Tower. He'd lost the last inklings of innocence then, when he'd realized what he had to do.

That had been eleven years ago.

"You were in your office. Everyone knows not to bother you when you're sleeping by now." Kingsley's smile widened, that same knowing look in his took a couple of deep, deep breaths - in, out - exhaling slowly and uncurling his fingers. This wasn't the time for temper tantrums. It was true—even the interns knew to not disturb Harry when his office door was closed. The few foolish enough to try usually ended up being hexed before they could so much as step into the room.

No, this wasn't the time for temper tantrums.

"Where is he now?"

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tbc

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Author's Note:

Well... it's been awhile.

Uh, so. This is a new fic that I've been working on for a month or two, ever since I rewatched Danny Phantom. It's some Good Shit (TM) and Danny's pretty relatable.

Anyway, onto story details. This fic is set in 2007, about ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I'll be mostly sticking to canon, (aside from various headcanons) for both series. For DP, this is canon divergent from after The Ultimate Enemy. There are a few events from after that mentioned, but it's placed a couple of months after Reality Trip, during the school year. Danny is around fourteen/fifteen in this story and a Sophomore in high school. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this, but I'm pretty dedicated so far and have a couple of chapter's worth of unorganized material, maybe more. There will be angst, heavy discussion of mental illness and trauma, and discussion of sexuality and gender, among other things. I'll try and put heavy trigger warnings on the top of every chapter and can summarize on request! There will also be cursing, because, honestly, what fifteen year old doesn't curse? I certainly did.

Please give me feedback! It's been awhile since I've written anything, especially with a genuine intent to go through with writing it, and I'm really pumped! Many thanks to all of the great DP/HP crossovers out there and my lovely pal Sukie, who pretty much held my hand through writing this and gave me the confidence to keep going, no matter how many times I tried to sabotage myself!

Oh, also - I have a Danny Phantom blog; it's spaectral if anyone is interested in following!

-astrovagant

EDITED 10.6.16 for redundancy and wordiness. Reread recommended, but probably not necessary.