Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter.
Chapter Two
The first thing I was aware of when I woke up, was pain. Not the kind of pain induced from any type of torture, more the pain that comes after drinking too much eggnog at Christmas (something I will not be doing again any time soon).
There is something distinctly unimpressive about waking up in a darkened room with a misty mind, afraid to move in case you vomit all over yourself. Attempting to blink away the fuzziness in my head, I stared blankly at the ceiling above me. As far as I could tell, I was in some sort of dungeon area, you know, like you get in those fantasy historical films you see on TV? The tiny barred window seemingly miles above me threw bright beams of light across the stone walls; the only light source in this cylindrical room of confinement. I mean, sure, there was a door (how else would my captors have gotten me in here?) but no light came from the other side of it.
I couldn't say how long I'd been in there. From the cold ache in my bones, it must have been at least a few hours. When I'd been knocked out, it had been around about ten in the morning. I could only guess by the limited view from the window that it was likely somewhere around mid-afternoon. Whatever my captors had hit me with, it had been pretty strong stuff. I mean really strong. My ghost half normally burned out any kind of pollution within my body within a matter of minutes.
Eventually, I decided that I might as well try to get out of this brick cage. I pulled myself up, drowsily noticing that I was on some kind of ledge jutting out from one side of the circular room. I draped my legs over the side, bending over slightly to stop the head rush that was already threatening to black me out again.
It was only when I took in my lightly illuminated knees that I realised that somehow, miraculously, I was still in ghost form. I raised a hand to my head pulling at the white strands of hair that danced around my forehead to further prove this to myself. That was new.
Wondering if my human half might be slightly more clear headed, I called upon the familiar white rings to change me back.
Rephrase: I tried to call upon them. Frowning, I tried again but the result was the same. Every time I felt the light, it seemed to pull away, unwilling to swap my forms. It was only then that I truly became frustrated. Since when couldn't I turn human? Tying to stay calm, I stood and made my way to the door. My inability to change back was probably just some side effect of whatever I'd been hit with. It would likely wear off in no time. I reached for the cool metal of the door handle.
Unsurprisingly, the door was locked. Of course. It wasn't as though they were about to make it that easy for me. Rolling my eyes, I turned myself intangible and made my way through the wooden door.
… Only to reappear on the other side of the exact same dungeon room.
"What?"
I hesitated slightly before making the trip backwards. Carefully, making sure to stay intangible, I walked backwards through the rounded wall behind me. Seconds later, I found myself inches away from the original wooden door. A quick glance around the room confirmed that I was still there.
Blinking, I walked back through the door and turned to find plain brick where I'd just phased.
This couldn't be normal…
Deciding to test this odd phenomenon further, I let myself drop through the floor. Sure enough, I found myself drifting down from the ceiling of the exact same dungeon room.
"Well... this is new..." I murmured, sitting back down and leaning my back against the phase-proof wall. I knew that I should probably be pretty freaked out by this point but I'm not entirely sure whether it was because I felt as though my brain was fighting to move through maple syrup, or I was genuinely impressed but the first thought that came through my head was 'well played'.
You see, for the past year and a half, I'd been kidnapped and hunted in more ways than I could even count. It all just lost originality, you know? I mean, I'd fought super powerful ghosts such as Vlad Plasmius, Pariah Dark and even my evil alternative future self. I'd been the target of pretty much all of Amity Park's ghost hunters and even some more distant ones. It took a lot to impress me and yet here I was, trapped by a bunch of nut jobs on flying broomsticks armed only with a set of flimsy looking twigs, in a medieval dungeon where flying through a wall merely shot you straight back where you started. Yes. I guess I was, in some way, congratulating them.
Of course, I wasn't going to let them win. As soon as I saw an escape route, I was going to dive for it.
I couldn't really say how long I spent, sat on that bench, musing over life in general. I might have dozed off once or twice but I do know that, by the time I heard the murmurings of an approaching conversation, my head had almost completely cleared, and I no longer felt like vomiting over anything.
"I thought I made my position rather clear last night, Dumbledore. Our department doesn't take in strays," whispered a male voice. I blinked, wondering if they were talking about me. Being called a 'stray' wasn't something that I was comfortable or happy with.
"Yes, you did. However, I feel that I must remind you that you came here for aid and I am trying to give it to you." This voice was distinctly older and more powerful than the previous. It was by this point I was wondering what the heck to do. Should I just pretend to be asleep so that I could eavesdrop on the conversation for a little longer? Should I just sit and wait for them to walk in and hope to make a good first impression or should I just throw caution to the wind and be my naturally sarcastic self?
It was only as these thoughts breezed through my head that the door drifted open. The reaction of my visitor's wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting…
As soon as the smaller, ruddy face man's eyes met with mine, he let out an impressive yelp. In the space of a second, he whipped out a thin stick and pointed it at my head.
For a guy I guessed was partly responsible for my being here, he sure looked surprised to see me. I raised my arms in mock surrender.
"Whoa, chill dude. You look like you've seen a ghost." Okay, this time I can officially say: pun intended. I couldn't help it. Golden opportunity and all that. Stubble at the other end of the room however, did not seem to share in my sense of humour. His twig remained fixed in place. It was to be expected, I guess. I mean, if the only thing I had to defend myself against... myself was a stick, I'd be pointing it too. I let my arms drop.
"Dumbledore... he's awake," the man murmured, shakily.
"I can see that."
"Why is he awake? He shouldn't be awake! Nothing about him should even be remotely awake."
"Maybe Hawthorn miscalculated his sedative spell?"
Bored already, I let my gaze fall on the taller man.
Now I don't mean any disrespect when I say this but, wow that guy looked old. His age was etched all over his body, in the white/grey facial hair that stretched all the way down to his belt, in the way his face crinkled when he smiled (which for some reason, he was doing) and in the way that he stood. I don't mean that he was hunched over, like those people you see in old folks homes. It was the complete opposite actually. The way that he held himself – it was almost like he was the most important man in existence, all knowing and extremely wise... in fact... I couldn't help but compare him to Clockwork... There was that same look in his eyes... like... no matter how old he looked on the outside, there was still that deep inner child that was constantly yearning to get out.
"It is Danny, am I right?" the old man asked, effectively cutting Stubble's rant short. The shorter man huffed, indignantly before fixing his gaze back on me.
I blinked.
"... How exactly do you know that?"
"It was printed on your bag."
Almost instantly, I remembered the thick black scrawl on the top of my backpack. Whilst trying to take her mind off of the bright pink bow her parents had somehow managed to pin to her skull, Sam had taken to writing 'Danny' in as many cool and fantastical ways as she could and had decided to scribble her favourite onto my bag.
"Right... forgot about that." I scratched the back of my head sheepishly before attempting to regain my chilled persona. "And you are...?"
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster here." Dumbledore nodded slightly as though willing me to accept this information. I narrowed my eyes.
"Headmaster? As in... like a school headmaster?" What in the world would a school headmaster be doing talking to me?
"Exactly like that, yes." He smiled and folded his hands behind his back. "This is Amos Diggory. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and is in charge of your case." Dumbledore gestured at Stubble with his head.
"Yes! That's exactly right, so don't you go trying anything funny!" Stubble squeaked, waving his stick severely. This guy was in charge of my case?
"I'm doomed," I murmured. Well, I would be doomed if I planned on sticking around long enough to be doomed.
"What was that?" the ruddy faced man asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me.
I held my hands up innocently, flashing him by best innocent eyes. "I didn't say anything."
"So, Amos. Still think he is a threat to society?" Dumbledore asked, looking over at his company in this fairly condescending way. Amos blinked and then put his stick away.
"All right, listen. Hawthorn is one of our best chaps and he seems to think there is something rather queasy about this fellow." His eyes travelled over me once more, as though I were something suspicious he'd found on the bottom of his boot. I winked back at him.
"Yes, but I would have thought that, almost being bested by his target would effect the good man's opinion somewhat. Perhaps he's not the best person to ask right now," the older man stated, his voice calm but his eyes challenging. Stubble sighed, scratching at his ruddy stubbliness.
"Yes, all right, bias and all that, I know... Still, he did knock out half of an arrest party."
"Okay, firstly – I'm right here," I spoke up, not liking the direction this was heading in. "And secondly, in my defence, usually when I'm surrounded by a bunch of lethal looking people, they're ghost hunters out to experiment on me. Trying to get away is just a natural reflex." I shrugged, nonchalantly.
"Hang on there... did you just say 'ghost hunters'?" Stubble asked, looking at me with a confused expression on his face.
"Well, yeah... You know... because I'm a ghost?" To further demonstrate the point, I rose into the air, taking up something resembling a half-hearted 'ta-da' pose. Seriously? How could they not have figured that out by now. Invisibility and intangibility were some pretty big hints. There was a long pause in which Stubble just stood, staring at me. Dumbledore looked more curious than anything.
"No you're not," denied Stubble finally.
"Yes I am," I argued back. Okay, insulting my attitude is fine, appearance I can deal with... but suggesting that I don't even know what I am? There's a line.
"But you can't be! I deal with ghosts every day and they're nothing like you."
"I think what Mr Diggory is trying to say is that we've never seen a ghost of your type before. It seems rather unlikely that you fit into the same category as what we're used to." Dumbledore interrupted, obviously trying to break up the possibility of conflict between Stubble and I. Nice to know someone was fighting my corner. I hesitated, thinking through the older man's words. I'd never met any ghost that wasn't the same as my Phantom half. Sure, Skulker was really a blob in a big metal suit and, sure Frostbite was a yeti but... surely the differences weren't that big?
"Well... what kind of dead people are you used to, then?"
"The ghosts we know of are spirits of dead wizards and witches who chose to stay behind in the world of the living rather than crossover onto the other side. The powers that you displayed earlier today, such as a... green ray of light? … and the fact that you appear to be fully corporeal, those are things that our usual type of ghosts don't have."
Okay, I was going to pretend that I knew what 'corporeal' meant.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait... Witches and wizards? I don't want to seem like a buzz kill or anything but... They're just myths along with unicorns and fairies and other 'magical creatures', no offence."
There was another long pause before Dumbledore cracked another smile. "You know, Amos. I think we have ourselves a muggle ghost," he announced lightly, causing Stubble to frown.
"No, that's impossible," the shorter man mumbled, "There is no such thing!"
"A what ghost?" I asked, suddenly very confused. What the heck was a 'muggle'?
"Muggle – it is what we call non-magical folk." Oh yes, because that made complete sense.
"You? Wait... you mean... you're wizards?" Okay, it was official; I was losing it. Magic was a scientific impossibility – it didn't exist. It couldn't exist. I mean, sure, ghosts were a pretty big stretch of the imagination but... well magic was something else entirely. Wasn't it?
Come to think of it... it kind of made sense, what with the broomsticks and the hand held twigs... what would they call them? Wands?
"Yes. We are." Dumbledore's smile never left his face which somehow served to batter my brain even more.
I grasped at the hairs at the back of my neck, trying to ignore my impending headache. This couldn't be happening.
"Dumbledore, you're forgetting one major thing. Magic doesn't work on ghosts."
"Ah, yes. But young Danny here is not your stereotypical ghost, quite obviously."
That caught my attention... 'Magic doesn't work on ghosts'. I thought back to when I'd tried to change back into my human half. If these guys were telling the truth (I wasn't quite willing to completely believe just yet) then... what if the 'spell' hadn't worked on my ghost half... well not to its full extent at least, and yet it had worked on my human half.
"That 'sedative spell'... or whatever you called it..." I started, interrupting the cool tempered debate on the other side of the minute room. "How long is it supposed to last?"
There was a moment of silence as both of the men let his question sink in.
"A week," Stubble answered eventually, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Why?"
I hesitated before responding. "All right... How about this? I will try to accept the idea of magic, if you consider my being a ghost."
Stubble blinked before shaking his head. "That still doesn't change the fact that you were effected by magic."
I sighed, trying to think of a way to describe my theory... without describing my theory…
"Okay... So... you said magic doesn't work on ghosts... But since I'm - what did you say? - more 'corporeal' than the ghosts you're used to, maybe your 'magic' has a slightly more increased effect on me?" Meh, it worked for now. I couldn't exactly say that I thought it was all down to the fact that I was only half ghost.
"That sounds rather reasonable to me," Dumbledore stated, glancing over at the smaller man. Stubble spluttered slightly before regaining something of his posture.
"Well... all right. It's a bit of a stretch of the imagination but I suppose it's something to work with," he answered eventually, folding his arms importantly. I rolled my eyes.
"Awesome. So, where do we go from here?" I asked, tapping my foot impatiently. Why did I feel I was more in charge of this discussion than the supposed 'head of my case'?
"Mr Diggory?"
The ruddy faced man paled slightly as all eyes were on him to make a decision. "Well there's not that much that we can do, what with America unwilling to take you back..."
"Wait... what?" I blinked, unsure if I'd just heard right... Stubble paused, glancing me over before sighing.
"Whenever a foreign magical creature comes into the country, our first port of call is to contact the department regarding magical creatures in their own country. Normally, the country – in this case America, will send over a representative to collect said creature. Since you're not registered in America, from what we can tell, the department isn't willing to pay the cost of registering you and giving you a licence. So we're stuck." The man scratched his chin as he spoke, the sound resonating through the room. I shook my head.
"Okay... so you're telling me that I can't go home, because my country just doesn't feel like spending a little bit of cash?" Yes, I could maybe have been a little more calm over the matter but... I don't know, I fought to protect the country for over a year and this was the kind of thanks I got?
"That's exactly what I am telling you," Stubble huffed. "Our options are limited. What we would normally do with creatures incapable of active thought and communication would be to place them in a family or with a trainer but... Well, it's not very often we get stray communicative creatures such as yourself wandering around – not without a licence anyway."
"All right... so what would you normally do with 'stray communicative creatures'?" I asked, somewhat impatiently.
"Well... that depends. If you were dangerous, you'd be locked away until a safe, monitored environment could be found. If you weren't, you'd become registered as a British creature and would be granted a licence to live out your life as you pleased, abiding by Magical Law, that is..."
"I don't see the problem... I'm not gonna hurt anyone."
"Perhaps not but the board certainly aren't going to take my word for it, especially after Hawthorn's statement of events," Stubble grumbled, folding his arms again as though irritated by his position. I knew the feeling. Frowning, I leaned against the brick wall behind me.
There was a long silence in which all three of us sank into our own thoughts. It was Dumbledore that finally spoke up.
"Why do you not just mix the regulations around a tiny bit?"
"What do you mean?" Stubble asked irritably. Obviously he didn't like being told how to do his job.
"You say that you would usually place an unintelligible creature with a family, do you not? Well then – why can't young Danny here, stay at Hogwarts? He could stay for a month to prove to the board that he is of no danger to anyone and then he would be eligible for a licence."
Stay where? For how long?
"... That might actually just work," Stubble agreed slowly, an awkward smile appearing on his ruddy face.
"When you say a month..." I murmured breathlessly. I'd arranged to be away for a week – two at the most – not an entire month.
"I mean that you would be allowed to leave early November, with a licence granting you unchallenged freedom," Dumbledore responded in his 'reasonable' voice. Early November? That was like... after Halloween. How on earth was I going to get away with missing that holiday? It was the family day – I'd only managed to get out of family time last year because I was being made to do the haunted house for Lancer... Yeah, let's not go there…
"You know – I think you're onto something there, old chap. I'll have a talk with my supervisors this afternoon. Keep him away from the students and I can't see there being a problem." Stubble nodded as he spoke, looking more taken with the idea every second.
"Okay, whatever," I started, unable to deal with the thoughts pressing down on my skull. "Does that mean I can leave this room, because the lack of sunlight in here is really driving me crazy." I wasn't lying. That tiny barred window seemingly miles above me was hardly anything to look at. I certainly wasn't getting my much needed vitamin D.
"I can't see a problem with that," Dumbledore stated, smiling that all knowing smile of his.
"Hmm... yes. I'll have to spread the confinement spell to cover the castle grounds though – I don't think I'd keep my job very long if you went flying off." Stubble rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nodding and pulling out his stick... wand. Quieter than I cared to hear, the man murmured a few words under his breath and the wand glowed slightly. I flinched as a weight I hadn't noticed was there, lifted from my core. If I concentrated, I could still feel the buzz of it.
"What's the plan then? I'm sure you're not going to horde the kiddo in your office."
I blinked – unsure of whether the ruddy faced man was trying to make some sort of joke.
"I'm sure Hagrid wouldn't mind having a little bit of company for a while. There is plenty of room for the both of them in his house."
Okay, pause. What kind of name was 'Hagrid'? It sounded like the kind of name you give to the gristle you get in a steak or pork chop.
"Well, if you're sure." Stubble nodded slowly before idly patting his stomach. "Right. I'd best be off. Things to sort out." He glanced over at me wearily as he said, "Stay out of trouble."
"Scouts honour," I grumbled back, watching as he left the room. "Dumbledore?"
"Yes?"
"Can I get that backpack back?"
The man grinned mischievously. "Of course. This way!"
With that, he walked out.
Sighing, I took one last look around the cursed dungeon before slowly following him out.
If I couldn't escape this place sooner, (and if the containment spell was what I thought it was, I probably couldn't – still kind of impressed) this was going to be a long month.
AN: Hey! This is finally an active fiction! *Wild whooping* Can I just say, I have BIG plans for this fiction... like HUGE (I planned out my final battle scene this morning and I am so kelping excited!)
A little background on this chapter - I literally only finished it this afternoon. 7 months this has taken me to perfect! (I'm sorry if it seems like a pretty cruddy chapter for such a long wait but I just really needed to introduce the plot of the story and this seemed to be the only way to effectively do that - introducing my 7th attempt at writing this darn second installment!) So yeah... I hope it lived up to some of your expectations. I don't want to promise anything too big but if all goes well, chapter 3 should be up before the end of August.
For anyone who hasn't read Diversity - my updating schedule is VERY unreliable. It could be weeks between updates or it could be months. Just a word of warning in advance - since this fiction is going to be a fudge of a lot longer than Diversity (I'm on chapter 18 after 2 years) you'll just have to be patient with me.
Anywho - that's all from me! If you haven't checked out the re-write of chapter 1, I would advise you glance it over - the first half is pretty much the same but the rest is very different (and hopefully a lot better than before).
Oh! Before I forget - Danny is fifteen going on sixteen in this fiction! (No PP)
Thanks for reading!
~Mea