Ghost of a Magician

Summary: A new hero named the "Masked Magician", more enemies that aren't ghosts, and alien sightings are all hitting Amity Park; making life more difficult for our ghost halva. Not to mention a new kid with a thing for pink hats. FOPxDP

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or Fairly Odd Parents… it would be really cool if I did because then I'd be Butch Hartman… and all awesome and stuff… but I do own this really bad plot… and maybe emo-Timmy… he's kind of mine… I guess…

Chapter 1

That was two months ago, his decision to move to Amity Park and to create Cosmo and Wanda's human identities. One particularly clever (or sneaky, whichever you prefer) member of the lawyers had made him stay in Dimmsdale until he finished the current semester of school. And like he had predicted, it was hell. He had stayed in his home- no, not home any more; it was too cold and dark for that title- house, with a social worker checking up on him every so often.

But while he had stayed inside the house, he had lived inside of his fairy godparents' castle; staying isolated in one of their many rooms (he had learned the first time not to wander around too much) doing the unexpected: studying. After playing the "Not-study game" so much, it was difficult to break his habit, but he wanted to try anyways, for three reasons:

One, it would help his rather pitiful transcript if he increased his grades. Entering a new school with D's and F's would not friendly teachers make… no, he would boost his GPA by second semester so that when he entered Casper High (what kind of name was that anyways?) he wouldn't look like a complete moron. From D's to F's it had jumped all the way to B's and C's (and one A, if you wanted to count Art with Mr. Bickles). Sure, they weren't quite at the quality of when he had wished to know everything or read people's minds, or even that one test he had scored an A on by doodling; but it was much better than his usual under-achieving scores.

Second, it gave him a foolproof and legitimate excuse to stay away from people. Antisocial it may seem but… wait, yes, that was the point. He was so sick of people at the moment. People that were still looking at him with pity, reminded him of the incident, and told him how good his parents were. Those were the most irritating; as if he hadn't known his parents were good people before! And the worst of it were his peers… those who thought it was 'cool' that he was orphaned. The cool kids- Veronica especially- had been pestering him to throw another party at his house, claiming that he "had nothing better to do". Seeing as how he couldn't stand them in the rare seconds they were talking to him, he could imagine a lot of "better things to do"… like wishing for deadly hyperactive ninjas to play with.

But they weren't the worst of it, no not by a long shot. Let's just say that he would have other uses for those deadly ninjas involving several explosions, vengeful foxes, and a certain gray-skinned bully. What kind of insensitive jerk said those things about another person's parents, especially when said parents were deceased? It had taken all of his logic, friends, and magical pink "backpack" and green "books" to keep him from attacking Francis. Pay no mind to the fact that Francis was still larger, heavier, stronger, and overall better at fighting… or the fact that he could've wished for something more harmful than his own fists (although clowns on a unicycle weren't all that pain inducing). No, it would not be beneficial to him or to anyone else for that matter to leave the fish castle for "socializing"… not the least bit beneficial.

And third, it stopped him from thinking... wait, wasn't school supposed to make you think? Yes, true, school makes you think, but about school things. Math, History, Science, English, Foreign Languages, Health, Extra Curricular Activities- those are the things that school makes you think about. Studying filled his mind with "useful" information: stuffing his head with things like the Pythagorean Theorem, osmosis, the Emancipation Proclamation, how to say "wash dishes" in French, and that things labeled TOXIC shouldn't be eaten; as fascinating as they were, they served only one purpose in his mind- distract him from his more depressing thoughts.

He had felt guilty, isolating himself from the people that did care about him: his friends, Tootie, the adults he had endeared himself to; he probably wouldn't see them in a long time, not if he could help it, and they were probably the only factors that could possibly change his mind. But they didn't; well they had tried to convince him otherwise, but they knew that leaving was probably the best for him. He had spent "quality" time with each of them: a sleepover with his friends in the tree house (no argument about Crimson Chin vs. Crash Nebula this time), he played "dress up" with the sisters (bad idea, seeing as how he was forced to "marry" Tootie and with Vicky there, he was the one in the wedding dress), and he had even almost "gotten caught" by Crocker for old times sake (that had earned him a lecture from Jorgen involving several dumbbells and Mr. Tuliptoes).

And the day before he left, they threw a farewell party; everyone in Dimmsdale had come, including the lawyers and social workers, and the fairies had held another convention in the bathroom (even if they could see him at anytime, they still liked the party idea). Sometime around 2:30 in the morning the parties had begun to mix, but either nobody noticed or minded, and it wasn't until 6:00 AM did the party finally end and people leave. There had been some mishaps, like rogue magic from the bathroom changing Vicky's head into different shapes and a contest between Cupid and Wanda at who was a better shot.

But it had been worth it, and plus, every teen deserved at least one wild house party. The mess had been wished away, damage undone, and the more embarrassing events had magically disappeared from everyone's minds. Everything had been put back to the way things always were in the Turner household: cold and empty.

Then he broke down and cried; heavy sobs racking his fourteen year old form, tears forming a large puddle on the tile floor. It had been the first time he had visibly mourned for his parents, and if he had any respect for his parents' wishes it would be the last. If they were watching him they would not want to see him wallowing in sorrow and guilt, especially not guilt. But he would be a selfish little kid, and allow himself just one solid self-pitying cry fest. As the tears slowed, and he felt his consciousness slipping, he had the strangest of resolutions and the strangest of flashbacks that he shouldn't have and wouldn't remember.

When he woke up, he was in a different house being watched by a Mr. and Mrs. Ferry.

"The school appreciates your charitable donation, Mr. and Mrs. Ferry. The new textbooks and computers were overly generous, but switching the classrooms' old chalkboards with Smart-Boards and the P.E. gear was much too kind." The principal, a smartly-dressed Japanese woman, thanked the couple in front of her for their gifts.

The three adults were seated in Principal Ishiyama's office, the school's authority figure flustered for the first time not involving ghosts. The Ferrys, besides being philanthropic, were a rather strange couple: Mr. Ferry had shocking green eyes with hair to match, and wore an ironed dress shirt and black tie; but his appearance wasn't the only contradicting aspect of him. His attitude went from sweet and hyper to thoughtful and cruel, and his voice from high-pitched and annoying to a slightly evil British accent. And his gaze had darted every so often to his wife, as if waiting for her approval.

Mrs. Ferry, on the other hand, was fairly normal- disregarding her pink swirling hair and eyes and her bright yellow shirt- if a bit exasperated as she nagged her husband. But she supposed the wealthy- which was what they must be considering their donation of about $50,000 worth of school equipment- were allowed their eccentricity (at least they weren't like the Mansons who were convinced they were an 'average' couple in the 1950s).

"No need to be so polite, Principal Ishiyama, we just want to make sure that Casper High is fully… prepared for Timmy." Mrs. Ferry phrased her words carefully, as if unsure of what would offend the other woman; in truth, she was trying to warn her of the possible chaos that would come from teaching her godchild, "Not that we're trying to bribe you, by any means, its just that… Timmy is-"

"Our nephew Timothy is a magician," Mr. Ferry, now in his evil British accent mood, butted in and continued on despite the alarmed look on his wife's face, "Sleight of hand, card tricks, random animals appearing from nowhere; that kind of magic," he explained more to Mrs. Ferry than to the audience it was intended for, "So he may cause disruptions in your school, many of which might cause property damage and… other… such… things… SUPER-TOILET! So much clogging! The plunger, it took the whole plunger!" As the green-haired man reverted back to his rather idiotic side of his personality- his female counterpart rolling her eyes for what must have been the thousandth time in the last half hour- Casper High's principal decided she was satisfied (and a tad bit confused) with what was said and heard, and decided to welcome her newest student: Turner, Timothy S.

Meanwhile, as his godparents "Mr. and Mrs. Ferry" were inside the office talking to Principal Ishiyama, the transfer student sat on a bench right outside fiddling with the many additions to his new outfit. He had upgraded from his basic pink hat, pink shirt, and jeans ensemble long ago, adding green where he could, but now it was as if a wannabe fashion designer (namely Binky) had taken control of a green and pink cloth factory and rigged it to explode on the buck-toothed boy.

Though, now that he was alone, he would admit that it was a very nice looking explosion: his trademark pink hat had remained (he wouldn't allow anyone to touch it) but his pink shirt had gained long black sleeves and mystical green symbols. A pair of black cords around his neck, each with their own colored star, framed his collar bone. His once bare hands had gained a pair of bright neon fingerless gloves: the palm of one hand pink with a green back and vice versa for the other hand. Two separate silver chains (each premiering a colored star of their own) rested against each hip and were convenient holders for his Poofer Pen, a "borrowed" memory wiper from Jorgen, and the keys to his Time Scooter, his new home, and the safe of important magical items. His jeans were now black with similar green and pink symbols as his shirt, and his shoes (which didn't blend in with his pants) were a combination of all three colors.

If it weren't incredibly tacky and useless, he was pretty sure that random pink and green belts would've been strapped onto his person. But had that happened he probably wouldn't have been mad at Binky, after all, he had specifically asked for his wardrobe to have his godparents' colors. It had been a stroke of genius (not quite at the level of Jimmy's "Brain Blasts") but after his wave of lunacy concerning Francis had passed, he had felt the convenience of having Cosmo and Wanda transform into his clothing. If there were a time he might need his godparents to control his actions- much like a puppet's strings- then they would be able to without his attire randomly changing colors.

And the fact that "young men" no longer wore pink. But it was his trademark, his identity even. He couldn't imagine life without his pink- just like he couldn't imagine his life without magic- although he did understand the need to tone it down; hence, the green and black. And as for his rather morbid choice of the third color, it seemed natural considering his circumstances. He was not and never would be a Goth but he had felt Death's haunting and it had left his mark upon him. It was a constant reminder of why he needed to change, to grow up from his fantasy world where nothing could go wrong if magic was there. No matter how it may appear, there were some things magic couldn't do, another experience he had been forced to swallow down. And considering he was a teenaged boy practically living without parental authority, black was a very good (difficult to stain) color of clothing.

Well there he was, sitting on an old wooden bench with too many key scratching to be pretty but sturdy enough not to throw away (maybe he should switch it with a new one, but he had done too much goodwill for the week), when all of a sudden a large blue balloon with legs and a strange shine at the top storms in and continues on what must have been a very long-winded lecture containing many classic literature titles. And two teens his own age followed after, both rolling their eyes and sharing looks on their face that showed they had heard this a thousand times, but each at opposite ends of the personality spectrum.

While the male was oblivious to his horrific fashion sense (his ensemble making him look like a walking traffic light) and behind the whale of a teacher's back would pull out a PDA and do… well, something with it (the blue-eyed brunette was never good with technology), the girl next to him knew she was going against mainstream appearances, managed to look good anyways, and although the black suggested more of a shadowy approach in life, she exuded more light than darkness... although more of a fiery sort of light: dangerous, painful, yet still nice to be around.

They neared his bench (his only because he had been planted there for the past hour) and the light blue balloon ordered them to take a seat while he proceeded to barge into the Principal's office and continue his raving. The brunette could tell the students were regulars in here, with the way the African American kid greeted the secretaries and they waved back and how the purple-eyed girl stomped over and sat down in her regular spot on the bench.

Too bad Timmy was already sitting there, and with a lapful of unknown girl he turned a pink bright enough to match his hat. It's awkward when you realize your shirt is on backwards, awkward when you say the wrong name in the wrong moment, this was… extremely awkward. Blushing at her own mistake, she jumped over to the other end of the bench. There was an embarrassing attempt at apologies, a fit of coughing, and sheepish laughter… then silence.

Not wanting to be rude (and desperate to fix that rather gauche first impression) Timmy offered a hand over, introducing himself, "Hey," His already high voice an octave higher than usual, before coughing to return it to normal, "I'm Timmy Turner. What are you in here for?" Using the clichéd prison phrase and a smile, certainly not what some would describe as mega-watt but still big enough to show his buckteeth, accompanied it.

"Sam Manson, and this ladies man," Manson sarcastically introducing and gesturing to the boy who sat between them, dispelling the uncomfortable tension, "is Tucker Foley."

Taking Foley's rather than Manson's hand (the beret-wearer's handshake showed his dexterity but wasn't as strong as the pink-hatter's) he pressed on his question, "So you're in here for…?" And unlike his female counterpart, who had ignored the question altogether, Foley had answered the question with too many words all saying absolutely nothing.

"Oh, you know, things like that. We do this all the time; we're almost always in here. They never get the football players, even if it's their faults; though sometimes it's Sam freeing the biology frogs or something like that, or this one time I changed the school computers to always type out 'Tucker Rocks'." The techno-geek babbled on, his hands flailing in wild movements as if he could recreate those incidents.

And never one to be outdone in pointless and hilarious gestures, Cosmo joined in the Casper student's retelling adding coffee induced jumps and maniacal laughing. His wife soon followed after, sharing an annoyed eye roll with her godson and a clipped conversation that only they would understand… not that the other teens were paying attention, not with the convenient distraction his godfather was making.

"He had?" A brown eyebrow rose, as if admonishing Wanda's negligence, his average teen demeanor dropping to a stern mask of a mature adult.

"She offered, would've been rude." The fairy scowled, it wasn't her fault that the principal wanted to 'apologize for her colleague's behavior' after he had barged in and nearly blowing out their eardrums with his literature enriched ranting.

"Otherwise…" There was a sense of hanging in the sentence.

"His Fa Giggly was acting up."

Oh, the magical gland, he wondered why in the past few years Wanda's had never acted up… but maybe he shouldn't ask. It was one of those questions on the 'You Probably Shouldn't Ask Or Else It Might Get Weird' list, right under the whole 'Birds and Bees' speech with sock puppets Cosmo had stored somewhere up in his seemingly empty head.

"So he was acting-"

"Like Anti, though there was a benefit." His fairy godmother snorted softly, as if trying to hold in her laughter.

"Oh?" His blue eyes darted to the pair of strangers next to him; luckily, they were still preoccupied by Cosmo's coffee high, "That was?"

"You're a magician." Her godchild chuckled lightly, remembering back to his Masked Magician phase… when he thought he could be a superhero, "It would explain the-"

"Pink and green animals, random objects flying around, and disembodied voices? It would," Glancing back over, the green swirls slowing in Mr. Ferry's eyes and the caffeine beginning to fade off, the newly titled magician deemed it time to greet the Ferrys away.

"Well, since the meeting is done with," Straightening up and speaking loudly enough for Principal Ishiyama and the bald teacher to hear through the wall, Timmy gave a rather obvious cue for his fairies to leave, "I'll be seeing you guys at home later."

While his godparents walked towards the door (more like the pink-haired fairy making a bee-line to the exit while dragging her caffeine intoxicated husband by his collar) the green-eyed fairy had just one more random burst of energy, resulting in his loud grating farewell. "Bye Timmy! Have a nice first day of school! Hey Timmy, Timmy! Say bye to me!"

"Um, bye Cosmo," A confused look (the others within the school office had worn matching ones since first seeing the fairy-turned-man) slid onto the transfer student's face. Adding a request to his farewell, this one directed to his godmother, as a precaution, "And Wanda," said godparent's exasperation transforming into attentiveness, "if you could wait until he calms down before you… go to work."

An obedient nod, countered in attitude by a raised eyebrow that clearly said 'Duh, I already knew that', was the last that anyone would see of the Ferrys that day. Not that, after his godparents teleported themselves to the fishbowl castle and waited out Cosmo's coffee rush, they wouldn't come back to Casper High and transform themselves to various objects on their godchild's person.

Unfortunately, that would be in a while, leaving poor Timmy to fend for himself in the beginnings of the one and only horror called: The First Day of School. The two high school educators, now deeming it safe to go outside since all the yelling had ended, had finally 'graced' the three teens (and the office secretaries) with their presence.

"Timothy Turner, on the behalf of Casper High's faculty, I would like to welcome you to Amity Park, I hope you are enjoying our fair city." Pleasantries were exchanged between the principal and new student, his reply: a false compliment (he had only woken in time to get ready and 'poof' to the meeting, therefore he had no idea whether he liked the people or if the weather was nice). They shook hands- her hands deviated from the normal shape of people who worked only with papers and pens, revealing she held a microphone every now and then (perhaps his new principal was a closet singer or performer, that was much better than Waxelplax with her collection of medieval flails).

"Unfortunately I cannot give you a tour of our grounds myself, but rest assured our vice-principal, Mr. Lancer, will make sure you are taken care of. I hope you will enjoy our school, and if you have any questions feel free to stop by my office." The Asian woman smiled, a cheery tone to her monologue. In other, less sugar-coated words: Your guardians' gifts were nice, but don't expect any special treatment. Don't cause any trouble, and don't get sent to me, "Oh, and your uncle mentioned your hobby about being a magician. Perhaps you could perform for the school one day." Actual meaning: And I better not hear any problems with you and your magic tricks.

And with that, Principal Ishiyama returned to her office, a light click of the door and a loud tired sigh following after. Leaving the three teens at the mercy of a certain blue-shirted, plaid pants wearing, pot-bellied, bare-headed teacher. Not that Foley and Manson weren't already used to him; and the pink magician did have a great sense for handling the abnormal and bizarre… that would come in handy in his new home.

"This is the freshman hallway, it's only called that because our lockers are here, there aren't actually different sections for each grade," Lancer's tirade had been long-winded and title-expletive filled, but had three basic points:

The first being a lecture to discourage (more like threaten with years of detention) Manson and Foley from ever freezing the school water pipes again; just how they did that, the pink-hatter didn't know, but with the looks on the criminals' faces he was pretty sure he wouldn't have wantedto know anyways.

After that, the vice-principal had given the transfer student his new locker number and combo and his class schedule- figures that the only period Lancer had to teach (instead of being the last minute substitute) was English and Timmy just happenedto have it. In addition, the buck-toothed boy got an earful of the school rules.

And thirdly, to simultaneously get rid of and 'punish' the set of preadolescents, he had assigned Foley and Manson to 'escort' the brunette around during lunch. And while it was on the inconvenient (and starving for a certain carnivore's case) end, it was probably better than other 'punishments' Mr. Lancer could come up with.

"Then down the stairs is the senior square, they're pretty territorial about that area, so don't go there unless your classroom's there." Though the techno-geek and the Goth girl were probably the best tour guides he could ask for; an insider's point of view, people who knew about the school as more than a glorified daycare. Not that Manson's sarcasm made him feel any less pessimistic about the educational system… and he probably could've done without Foley's near-constant complaining about "missing his feeding times", whatever that meant.

"The science classrooms and the gym are next to that. And then there's the cafeteria. And-" A growl erupted from one of his tour guides' stomach, and surprisingly it wasn't Foley.

"Ah… ha-ha… sorry about that," A faint blush of embarrassment colored Manson's face, a hand quickly going to her midriff, "I'm probably just hungrier than I thought I would be. I was expecting to eat lunch,"

Grouchiness no longer giving way to manners, the ravenous teen snapped, "Lunch? What lunch? Your rabbit-food-vegetable-trash isn't lunch!" The way the African-American boy delivered that line it sounded like an old argument was about to resurface. Though, with the hunger pains it probably wouldn't be as playfully or good-hearted as usual.

"Ultra-Recyclo-Vegetarians don't eat trash! I eat much healthier and more natural food than you and your bloody meat!"

What the heck is an Ultra-Recyclo-Vegetarian? That question flashed through the magician's head before he mentally stomped down on it. Now was not a good time to be asking questions that would probably add fuel to the fire… no, now was a good time for damage control.

"Dudes, chill, why don't you go to the cafeteria- we still have time left, right?- and get something to eat. I'll be fine by myself," A small reassuring smile, mixed in with a dollop of nervousness (stopping fights was never one of his fortes), and the relaxing of body posture enforced the pink-shirted teen's words.

Matching expressions of guilt quickly replaced their irritated ones, apologies and disagreements rising up in their throats:

"Are you sure? We don't mind if-"

"Well if you're sure, man, we could-"

"Tucker!"

"What? I'm hungry!"

"Seriously, I'm fine, really." Slowly guiding his tour guides toward the stairwell that would lead them to the cafeteria (and hopefully towards slightly less cranky attitudes), the transfer student gained inspiration from his full hands. "How about I put these in my locker," jiggling his stack of Casper High textbooks, pamphlets, and other 'useful' things, "and I'll meet you guys in the cafeteria."

Nodding obediently (and not really willing to put up a fight against the prospect of eating) the two black-haired teens descended the steps. "Hey, Timmy, you want us to get you something?" The techno-geek called back to the starving brunette, "you're probably just as hungry as we are."

"Um, anything's okay I guess... it is cafeteria food after all," Pondering it over in his mind, his appetite hastily answering for him, the magician added another request, "Hey, Foley? No cow... or goat, though I doubt they have that here. Thanks, dude." The two culinary taboos were more for his own mental sanity than anything else, after having that Dairy-Land cow always popping up out of nowhere and well, Chompy was the one who first got him into morals and ethics (and a really cool hover car), it was always stomach-churning (and vomit-inducing) for him to even think about having either species as a meal.

His preferences started the 'vegetarian vs. carnivore' debate- Manson finally having an 'ally' for an argument while Foley pointed out the other meat choices Timmy hadn't listed- but it was in good spirits. Satisfied with his own good deed for the day (no fairy magic used whatsoever) the new Casper High student turned to head towards his new Casper High locker.

Or at least he tried to. He hadn't expected a body suddenly crashing into him, sending his small unbalanced form and all of his weighty books over the railing of the stairs to his utter and non-magic-protected doom.

A/N: Well, here it is… kind of anti-climactic isn't it... I was actually hoping to add Danny in there… but I decided to wait until chapter three… that and I wanted to get this up before New Year's (for my time zone anyways)… hopefully it doesn't seem too… bland. Haven't really gotten to the action yet but I kind of wanted to show his transition from one hometown to another. And I still wanted to keep emo-Timmy (yeah, he gets less emo in the rest of the story)… so yes… REVIEW!! Spread the 2008 cheer and give me reviews! Flames, Critiques, compliments (though I doubt it) are all welcomed.

And here's thanks to those who did review:

Hordak's Pupil: Thanks for the support. I haven't quite answered what will happen to Timmy; though falling over a stairwell to his utter doom is a nice little teaser isn't it?

mystery writer5775: Thanks… but that was only the prologue (I'm usually better at those than anything else). And as for his parents… well, maybe a certain (eventual) meeting with a certain time-controlling ghost (after he meets our halfa first!) will clear the details up.

Pterodactyl: hehe… yeah, I kind of went over the top with emo-Timmy's vague angst-ness… but no, it wasn't the Anti-Fairies (or not directly at least)… thanks for the support!

MayaAlexia: Yeah, Timmy's all squishy and emo… sorry this chapter isn't all awesome and stuff… but hopefully the next one will be…

And for you guys who put the story on alert… I love you too!

See you again in Amity Park!