Walk Three Worlds
A Danny Phantom/Harry Potter Fanfic
By CaelumFelis
Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter or anything associated with them.


Chapter 3: A Third World Revealed

Danny grimaced as he hefted the duffel bag hanging from his shoulder, moving off of the nasty bruise on his collarbone that Vlad had given him during their "training session" the day before. He was sore and exhausted and looked it, but he'd been waiting for this day for two weeks, and he would be damned before he let his battered and aching body keep him from taking advantage of this opportunity. Vlad had been called away on a business meeting the previous evening, and wouldn't be back until late the night, making today the best possible chance Danny would have for escape. Barth had finalized the ticket as Danny collected all of the documents necessary for leaving the country (his passport, an immigration visa Barth had gotten him, and his birth certificate) and packed his duffel bag, then Danny had left, thanking Barth profusely and making sure that if worst came to worst, the elderly ghost had somewhere safe to hide from Vlad.

Danny had flown from seven that morning until almost eight thirty that night, stopping only for a bite to eat every few hours. He'd reached Chicago O'Hare with an hour and a half to spare, transforming back to human form behind a support pillar and making a beeline for an automated ticket machine, getting his boarding pass with the help of Vlad's driver's license and one of his many credit cards, which he'd swiped from the older halfa's bedroom while collecting his own passport and birth certificate. He was now standing in line at security, hoping they'd buy the "unaccompanied minor" shtick, wondering what he was going to do about his backpack full of ghost weapons, and cursing Vlad for the bruises his bags were aggravating.

When it was his turn to get his boarding pass checked, he nervously stepped up to the security guard's podium and handed the woman his boarding pass and passport.

"Unaccompanied minor?" She asked, glancing at him. He nodded.

"Parent or guardian?"

"Vlad Masters," he answered, handing the shocked woman Vlad's license. She blinked at the three documents, then gave him back his passport and the license.

"Just sign here," she said numbly, pointing to a line on the boarding pass and handing him a pen. Danny did so, and she gave him back the pass and waved him through.

As soon as she was out of earshot, he gave a quick sigh of relief, then turned his attention to the next problem: how to get a pack full of ghost weapons though airport security. He pondered this problem as he took off his shoes and put them in a bin, then realized that he had ghost powers and could make the pack invisible and intangible so that he could carry it with him without it being detected by the machines. Gritting his teeth and praying that no one was watching, he lifted his medium sized blue duffel bag onto the belt of the X-ray machine, while at the same time, smoothly slipping his green backpack off of the shoulder it had been slung on and forcing his ghostly energy to flood every molecule of the bag and its contents, easily rendering it invisible and intangible. He then walked through the machine, praying that it wouldn't detect the unseeable and untouchable bag. To his vast relief, nothing happened, and Danny collected his duffel and his sneakers and quickly walked to a bench to put his shoes back on. He placed his duffel on one side of him and surreptitiously slid the now only invisible backpack under the bench and let go, the bag immediately becoming visible again, shielded from view by his duffel. He quickly tied on his shoes, grabbed his bags, and headed to the gate, feeling extremely proud of himself.

Gate 3, Gate 3, where's Gate 3? Danny thought absently as he walked down the terminal. Of course, it has to be at the complete opposite end of the freaking building. What luck I have. He reached his gate and sat against a wall, half hidden by an enormous pot of fake plants, and for the first time since he got up that morning, allowed himself to relax. The first hurdle was passed, in half an hour he'd be on the plane, and Vlad wouldn't be able to get to him.

His stomach rumbled, and Danny obediently gathered his stuff and went off in search of food and coffee, keeping an eye on his watch. He found a Starbucks, and the tired looking man working the register didn't even blink when Danny placed his order for a small decaf and a chocolate muffin. He took the items back to the gate, glad for the foresight he'd had in taking Vlad's AmEx.

He'd just finished his coffee when the plane began boarding, and Danny tossed his trash into a nearby trash can and joined the queue. His boarding pass was scanned and he was waved through, and Danny practically skipped down the boarding corridor to the plane. He found his seat, in the back row next to the window, stowed his duffel overhead and his pack at his feet, and settled in for the long flight, falling asleep almost instantly.


London's Heathrow Airport, Harry Potter noticed, seemed to get busier and more crowded every time he visited it. Not that he visited very often, especially in the past thirteen or so years, but each time he came it always seemed to shrink, and the people seemed to be more rude than they'd been before.

The slim, ebony-haired twenty-five-year-old scanned passers-by with piercing green eyes, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He was dressed in a Muggle uniform, that of a British Immigration officer, complete with an authentic (at least as far as Muggles were concerned) badge and ID card to match. Beside him, his partner was similarly disguised, although much less congenial about it.

"This is rubbish, Harry," Ron Weasley complained quietly, fidgeting with his collar. The tall, lanky ginger looked around nervously with cool blue eyes. "We shouldn't bloody be here. This kid's a Muggle, isn't he? Let the Muggles deal with him."

"The Muggles don't have the resources to deal with him, Ron," Harry answered calmly.

"He's a bloody kid!" Ron snapped. "What's there to deal with? What's so special about him that Shacklebolt needs us to infiltrate a Muggle airport just to pick him up?" The gate they were stationed in front of opened, and passengers flooded out.

"Kingsley said something about him being part ghost," Harry answered absently, keeping a picture of his target in mind and studying each person as they passed. In doing so, he missed Ron's gape.

"How the hell does that work?"

Suddenly, Harry spotted the target. "You can ask him yourself, mate," he said, nudging Ron and nodding in the direction of a black haired, blue eyed teenage boy. "There he is."

Ron followed his partner's gaze and blanched. "Blimey, that's him? He's as scrawny as you. How old is this kid?"

Harry consulted a slim black notebook, Transfigured from a dossier that held their target's information. "Says here he's fifteen," he answered, glancing back up at the kid, who was rapidly moving in the direction of the street. "He's a bit taller than I was at that age. C'mon, we need to catch him before he can disappear. I'll go in front and get his attention, you come around the back. No wands, we don't want to scare the poor bugger."

"Roger," Ron said, nodding. He had no problem admitting that his partner, best friend, and brother-in-law was the better Auror, and usually followed Harry's lead, although he reserved the right to hex him if he thought his friend was getting too full of himself.

The two twenty-five-year-old wizards left their stakeout location and casually strode over to the target. At a nod from Harry, Ron veered off to circle around, and Harry himself put on his most easygoing smile and walked up to the teenager.

"Excuse me," he said, his tone friendly and nonchalant. The boy gave the tiniest of flinches, and looked up at him with guarded blue eyes. Harry let himself be curious about the careful control of expression for about five seconds before continuing. "Hello, there. My name is Inspector Potter; I'm with Her Majesty's Royal Immigration Service. Daniel Fenton, correct?"

"Danny," the boy corrected mechanically, and Harry noticed that his body was tensing for flight, his hands coming to grip the shoulder straps on the duffel bag and backpack he was wearing.

"Relax, Danny, you're not in any trouble," Harry assured him, smiling comfortingly. "My partner, Inspector Wesley, and I just want to ask you some questions."

Danny relaxed a tiny bit, but when he heard Ron behind him, he immediately spun halfway around and backed up a bit, so that both men were in front of him, an action that caused Harry and Ron to exchange concerned and quizzical glances.

"Where're you from, Danny?" Ron asked.

"Amity Park," Danny answered, eyes flicking from Harry to Ron and back again warily. "Fifteen minutes from Chicago."

Hometown, check, Harry thought.

"What brings you to merry old England, mate?" He asked, watching the teen's reaction carefully.

Danny hesitated for a split second, but it was enough for Harry to catch and take not of. "Running away from my slimeball foster father?" He offered, his tone light and joking. He attempted to crack a smile, but didn't succeed.

Harry and Ron traded glances again.

"It's a long way from Chicago to London, Danny," Ron said seriously, his expression concerned as he regarded the teenager in front of him. "You got any family to take you in?"

A shadow passed over the teen's face, dulling the brilliance of his sky blue eyes and causing his features to become rigid and stoic. Harry frowned; he knew that kind of shadow all too well, he'd seen it in the mirror enough times after Sirius had died. This boy wouldn't be running away if he had family to go to.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, meeting Danny's eyes gravely. Danny blinked at him, a bit surprised.

Ron cleared his throat. "Danny, if you don't have any family to claim you, you're going to have to come with us," he said. Danny's eyes snapped in Ron's direction, and he took a step back.

"I'm not going to get deported, am I?" He asked, going pale.

"No, you're not getting deported," Harry said, puzzled at the teen's reaction. Was he really that afraid of whatever he was running from? The Auror shook his head and pulled a small mirror out of the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. "Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The Minister of Magic's face appeared in the mirror. "Hello there, Potter. Report?"

"We've got him, sir," Harry replied, smiling slightly at the slack-jawed expression of utter shock on Danny's face. "Do you want us to bring him in? He's alone, and he's not meeting anyone."

"Yes, by all means, Potter," Kingsley replied. "See you in a few."

"Yes, sir," Harry finished. Kingsley disappeared from the mirror, and Harry tucked it back into his jacket.

"So how is this going to work, Harry?" Ron asked. "Are we Apparating, or are we going to be civilized folk and use broomsticks?"

"Danny and I are Apparating," Harry answered, smirking at his friend. "You can use a broom if you want, but you'll have to explain to Kingsley why you're late."

Ron grumbled, but got out his wand. Harry did the same, and turned to Danny, who was now looking at both men with the expression of one having found himself in the presence of lunatics.

"Who the hell are you?" Danny demanded, fear and confusion making his voice harsh and higher than normal. "What do you want from me?"

"We'll explain everything, but not here, and not now," Harry assured him. "We need you to come with us. Take my hand, and close your eyes."

Danny looked at Harry distrustfully, but after a second did as he was told. Harry and Ron nodded at each other, and then with a quiet pop, the three of them disappeared.


Danny hadn't known what to make of the two men who'd approached him; the sight of the uniforms had immediately set his instincts to screaming "RUN!", but the smile that the shorter, black haired man had given him had, oddly enough, settled his nerves. However, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin when he'd realized that the tall redhead had come up behind him, and he'd seen by the looks they'd exchanged with each other that they were worried about how he'd reacted.

It was when the shorter man suddenly produced a talking mirror that Danny realized that he wasn't anywhere remotely resembling Kansas anymore. When the men each took out a long, slim stick, Danny started to really panic. What were they planning on doing with those things?

As it turned out, nothing. The black haired man had told Danny to take his hand and close his eyes, and after a few seconds of weighing his options, Danny had complied. There was a split second of silence, then the nauseating sensation of his entire body being squeezed as though through a funnel, and then he was on solid ground again.

"You can open your eyes now, Danny," the black haired man, Potter, said, sounding rather amused. Danny slowly cracked his eyes open, and realized with a shock that he wasn't in the airport anymore. Instead, he was standing in the middle of a marble corridor, which was lit not by electric lights, but by torches. The corridor was white marble and reflected the light of the torches, making it very easy to see.

"That's weird," the redhead, Wesley, said, blinking at Danny.

"What?" Danny asked defensively.

"You're a Muggle," Wesley replied, frowning. "You shouldn't be able to see the Ministry of Magic, much less be able to come in."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Danny said, now seriously wondering what it was he'd done to get the universe so ticked at him. "What's a Muggle? What's the Ministry of Magic? What the hell do you guys want with me?"

"Let us take you to our boss, and we'll answer all your questions," Potter said calmly, shooting a Look at Wesley, who gave him an innocent "I didn't do nothin'" expression in return. "This way."

Potter led the way through the maze of corridors, Danny at his heels and shooting glances back at Wesley, who brought up the rear. They finally stopped in front of a huge set of oak doors.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Office, to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic," Potter told the doors. Danny wondered why the man was talking to a pair of doors, until the doors seemed to open by themselves, and his attention moved to how on earth they did so. Potter strode inside, and Wesley prodded Danny to get him to follow.

Despite the intimidating entrance, the room the trio entered was rather plain. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, and Danny had to pinch himself to make sure he was awake, because it seemed like the subjects of the portraits were moving. A large desk sat opposite the doors at the other end of the room, and an equally large black man sat behind it, smiling at the two men who had just entered.

"Ah, Potter, Weasley, well done," he said, rising from the desk chair and coming around to shake their hands, his bright blue robes billowing around him. "Any trouble?"

"No, sir," Potter said, grinning.

"And even if there was, we would've handled it," Wesley added. "Right, Harry?" He nudged his partner, who rolled his eyes and took out his stick again. With a flick of his wrist, the uniform he'd been wearing changed, becoming dark green robes. His friend did the same, his own uniform becoming dark blue robes. The three men all turned when they heard Danny's squeak of shock.

"Ah, this must be young Mr. Fenton," the black man said, stepping closer to Danny. Danny scrambled back, staring at the man with wide eyes.

"Who're you?" He asked, fighting the urge to transform where he was, damn the consequences. The black man blinked, and glanced at Potter and Wesley.

"Didn't you two tell him anything?" He asked. The younger men had the grace to look sheepish.

"We were going to," Wesley said.

"We thought you might be the best one to explain, sir, since you were the one to give the order to bring him in," Potter explained.

The black man sighed, shaking his head at the two. "I don't know why I bother with you two," he said wryly. The pair grinned.

"Because we're the best damn Aurors since Mad-Eye and the Longbottoms," Wesley said cheekily.

"Sir," Potter added.

"Don't get full of yourselves," the black man admonished before turning back to Danny, who'd backed up against the wall, ready to phase through if he needed to. "Relax, Mr. Fenton, I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently. "My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'm the Minister of Magic."

"Magic?" Danny asked, frowning. "Like that teleportation stuff, and the transforming clothes?"

Shacklebolt nodded. "Exactly that," he said. "I am a wizard, Mr. Fenton, as are Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. I asked them to bring you here because we've had our eye on you for a while."

Immediately, alarm bells went off in Danny's head. "Had your eye on me?" He asked carefully. "Why me?"

Shacklebolt went back to his desk and picked up what looked like a photo. Danny slowly followed, his curiosity getting the better of him. He heard Potter and Wesley (Weasley, he reminded himself, remembering what Shacklebolt had called the redhead) approach as well, but ignored them. Shacklebolt handed him the picture, and Danny stared at himself, first in human form, then transforming into ghost form, and then transforming back again in an endless loop.

"W-Where did you get this?" Danny whispered, choking a bit as he tried to find his voice.

"An Auror stationed in Amity Park took it," Shacklebolt replied. "After the creation of the interdimensional portal your parents opened up, we thought it best to make sure that we had someone over there to keep an eye on things. We didn't have to do very much, however, since you always seemed to have things well in hand."

Danny sighed. With the photo and whatever else this person had collected on him, he knew it was useless to try and argue. "What do you people want with me?" He asked, simply and quietly, not looking at any of the men around him.

"Well, we have some questions for you," Shacklebolt said slowly, but the utter exhaustion in the boy's face changed his mind. "But those will wait. For right now, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will take you to register with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and then I think a good, long rest is in order. No offense, boy, but you look like you're ready to keel over at a moment's notice. Potter," he addressed the black haired man, "I think it best if Mr. Fenton went home with you. He'd probably be the most comfortable with you, since you've dealt with Muggles."

"Yes, sir," Potter said, nodding briskly. He glanced at Danny and gave the boy a reassuring smile.

"Wait," Danny said, alarmed that these people were making plans over his head. "Can't you just do whatever it is you need to do and let me go? I'm fifteen, I don't need to be taken care of like a little kid—"

"Danny," Potter said gently, and Danny, despite himself, met his eyes, "where did you think you would go, once you got to London? It's a huge city, and not all of it is friendly. We all know you can take care of yourself, but for how long? Like you said, you're fifteen. You're not a little kid, but you're not grown up yet either. Despite what you think, you still need someone to watch out for you. And I would think that someone in your position would not turn away a free bed and meal."

Danny gaped at him, and realized that the man was right. Short of getting to the airport, on the plane, and to London, Danny didn't have any kind plan for what he would do after leaving Vlad's castle. Kicking himself, he closed his mouth and looked at the floor.

"Very well then, gentlemen," Shacklebolt said cheerfully, returning to his desk. "Potter, expect me to drop by in a few days or so to proceed with my questions for Mr. Fenton."

"Yes, sir, Minister," Potter said.

"You're all dismissed, then," Shacklebolt said, and Potter, Weasley, and Danny left the office.

"So, what's next, then, Mr. Potter?" Danny asked, readjusting the strap of his duffel where it had fallen painfully on his bruised shoulder.

"We're going to get you registered with the Magical Creatures office, and then you and I are going home," Potter replied. "By the way, you can call me Harry."

Danny nodded, then frowned as Mr. Potter—Harry's words came back to him. "Magical Creatures?" He asked. "What makes me a "magical creature"?"

"Probably the fact that you're part ghost, whatever that means," Weasley said. "Oh, and my name's Ron. Harry, you think you can handle this? I want to surprise Hermione by actually coming home when she gets home."

Harry checked his watch, then nodded at his friend. "I think it'll be all right, Ron, it's just a simple registration," he said. "Dinner at my place tonight?"

"Sounds good, as long as you're the one cooking," Ron replied easily. "I don't know how Ginny missed getting Mum's cooking skills. It's amazing you don't die of food poisoning whenever she cooks."

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged. "I'm hard to kill. Six, then?"

"Sure, see you then," Ron replied, and disappeared with a resounding pop.

Danny jumped and stared at the spot where Ron had been standing. "What was that?" The teenager asked, eyes wide.

"Disappration," Harry told him, a smile playing on his face, "a magical form of teleportation. Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can go home for lunch." He led the way through yet another maze of corridors, Danny keeping up with him easily. They walked for a while, until they came to a door labeled suspiciously, "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions". Harry held the door open for him, and Danny cautiously entered, unconsciously checking for threats, weapons, and exits. Harry noticed the teen's behavior and was impressed, and also mildly concerned.

He's far too young to be doing what he does, the Auror thought.

Thankfully, the Magical Creatures Department wasn't terribly busy, and Danny's registration didn't take very long. It was surprisingly simple, really, just some questions, a transformation, pictures, and a display of each of his powers. He drew the line at his Ghostly Wail, telling the frumpy little witch who was taking everything down that not only was he too low on energy to do it, it was also too powerful and would probably destroy not only the room they were in, but the entire department, as well. Neither Harry nor the witch argued with him, seeing that it was a losing battle anyway. To make up for it, Danny told her that if she could find a place where there was nothing of importance to destroy, and he was at full strength, then he would show her what his Wail could do.

"I believe we're done here," the witch said finally. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Fenton. You are free to leave."

"Thanks," Danny said, gathering his things and glancing at his watch, which he'd remembered to set according to London time before his plane had landed. Almost noon. He suddenly felt exhausted, and he realized with a shock that it was six AM back in the States.

Damn jet lag, Danny grouched to himself.

"Thanks, Jane," Harry said, smiling at the witch. She blushed furiously, and busied herself with her paperwork, muttering a "you're welcome".

"Ready to go, Danny?" The Auror asked. Danny somehow suppressed a yawn and nodded. "Hold my arm," Harry instructed, and the teen complied. With a much quieter pop than Ron, they disappeared.


Danny opened his eyes and looked around curiously. They were now in a small town, almost completely surrounded by green forest. Houses stood dotted about, surrounded by picket fences that seemed to be more for decoration than for security. They were in the middle of the street, facing one mid-sized, two storey house, with a large porch and yard.

"Where are we now?" Danny asked tiredly, desperately wanting a bed and sleep without nightmares.

"Godric's Hollow," Harry answered, smiling wistfully. "My hometown. This is my house." He led the way up the front steps and to the front door, muttering something to the door before it happily swung open. Danny followed Harry inside, looking all around and feeling rather surprised with how… normal it looked. An umbrella stand in the corner next to the door, a decorative table/mirror next to the umbrella stand, pictures hung up all over the walls. A small staircase stood to Danny's immediate front and left, the wall going up also covered in pictures. There was a doorway to Danny's left, in front of the staircase, which he thought led into a dining room, and another one on his right, which he could see led into a living room. A hallway stretched out in front of him, leading towards the back of the house. He could hear Harry moving around in there, probably making lunch.

"Hey, Danny," the older man called. "Just drop your stuff where it is and come have something to eat, all right? Then a good, long rest might be in order."

Danny didn't reply, but simply did as he was told, placing his duffel bag and backpack on the floor and removing his shoes before shuffling into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and looked around. This was the hub of the Potter house, the place where most of the events of the day took place. Bookshelves lined with strange looking titles decorated the wall parallel to the front of the house, looking messy and disorganized and lovingly abused with use. A small family room was arranged in the corner, with a comfortable looking couch and loveseat and armchair arranged around a coffee table and what looked like an old fashioned wireless radio. Infant toys were everywhere, surprising Danny, who'd thought Harry was a bachelor.

"Any preferences?" Harry asked, gently drawing Danny from his musings. Danny shook his head, and Harry shrugged and began cooking. Danny watched with a growing sense of unreality as eggs levitated and cracked themselves over a bowl and seemed to scramble themselves. Two frying pans situated themselves on the stove and began greasing themselves. Bacon dropped into one pan and began frying, while potatoes were chopped by an invisible knife and stampeded into the frying pan next to the bacon. The eggs poured themselves into the other frying pan, and with careful observation from Harry, who was watching and leading this strange symphony of activity with an expression of careful concentration akin to that of a conductor leading an orchestra, his wand flicking and waving like a baton, began to scramble themselves as they turned a delicious golden yellow. Danny nearly fainted with hunger at the smells being produced, and realized how little he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours. At long last, a plate was placed in front of him, and he barely remembered tasting the food as it went down. After a third helping, Danny was finally full, and feeling a bit more than a little sleepy. Harry led him upstairs to the guest room, and Danny didn't even bother getting undressed before collapsing into dark oblivion.