Hey! I was not going to do this, but I got four reviews today, all from Guinivere Sage and she made a few really good comments on this story. Although I didn't get 5 reviews, I wouldn't expect to anyway until chapter 3 was up, so what's the point in slacking about it?
DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me, I don't own DP or HP. Just lettin' ya know.
And finally we get to make a huge turn from typing out whole chapters! YAY! And by the way, Guinivere Sage, you're right. Danny IS Goth. I just described him in clothing and music taste that I like. But I don't do it. And MCR is soothing for me.
SUMMARY: Now that Voldemort has risen, this is a dangerous time for anything, especially enrolling a new student. Danny Fenton has been enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and no one trusts him. At the same time, some horrible twisted thing is messing with Harry's and Danny's bodies. The worst thing is, no one knows that everyone is playing right into Voldemort's trap, and Harry and Danny are in the middle of it. HBP SPOILERS.
NOTE: I know I put Harry's perspective first, but it's Danny's that happens first actually. Remember? At the Burrow, the next day or the day after that is Harry's birthday, but Danny was picked up the 16th. Sorry for any complications.
NOTE: ANNND…I just saw September 30th is the premiere of The Fenton Menace! There's also: Identity Crisis…and Hey! All our Dark Danny fics are paying off! In Ultimate Enemy, there's a Dark Danny! Check it out at tv . com. I love craziness! Unfortunately, I have yet to see Pirate Radio.
RATED: T for language and slightly mature themes.
Chapter 2
"The Burrow"
Dumbledore and Danny slowly approached the back door and accidentally stepped on a twig, resulting in a moderately loud crack. Danny cringed, knowing for a fact that this often ended up in a bad situation. His hands habitually curled into fists and he shifted his stance, feet spread apart. He knew from experience (and school) that triangles were traditionally good shapes to put weight on, since it wouldn't sway easily since the weight would go down each side, balancing out the weight, thus keeping it up. In Danny's first fight, he had learned that spreading his feet apart to form a triangle beneath them worked well, since it also distributed weight to each leg equally.
"WHO IS THAT?" screamed a female voice from within the home. The door opened up, a woman clutching a polished wand in her hand. Her vicious face relaxed as she lowered her wand and said, "Oh, Dumbledore, we weren't expecting you until later!" Her eyes came across Danny, whose head snapped back once the door opened. "And who is this young man?"
"This is our new student, Daniel Fenton."
"I prefer Danny," he replied through clenched teeth.
"Ah, Danny, come in, come in. My goodness!" she said, surveying his skinny frame. "You're so skinny, just like Harry. Come in, we'll fill that stomach right now!" And with that, the woman, with curly red hair to her shoulders and who wore a kitchen smock, grabbed Danny and carried him into the cozy interior.
The pots, pans, and dishes washed themselves, knives hung in midair, slicing loaves of bread and a quite interesting, unique clock hung on the wall with nine faces on hands on it, all redheaded, the woman one of them. All around the clock were destinations. Each and every one of the hands pointed to MORTAL PERIL.
Dumbledore chanced a quick glance at it as the woman sighed and explained as she poured a heaping bowl of stew in front of Danny, "It's been that way for ages." But Dumbledore didn't press the matter.
"Molly, don't feed him too much. Let him talk with the others!"
Others? If there were others, where were they? Danny needn't have spoken, since several redheaded boys around his age, one tall and lanky, and a bushy brown-haired g i r l raced down the stairs, the g i r l desperately trying to catch them.
"Fred, George, Ron, stop it right now!" said Molly angrily, stuffing several slices of bread into Danny's mouth. The three boys came to a halt when the tall one spoke.
"Aw, come on, Mum! You never let us have any fun!"
"Ron, yes you do, I've let Fred and George have their shop!"
"True, but you're still not all that happy about it are you?" said one of the boys.
"Well, I haven't blown my cork yet, have I, Fred?"
"Ah, but—"
"No. Stop it this instance."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," sighed the g i r l.
"No trouble at all, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling at her from the side, now placing a few cutlets on Danny's plate.
Silence broke through as Dumbledore left and the four of them stared at the strange boy who sat behind the kitchen chair with Mrs. Weasley dumping several various foodstuffs on the plate before him.
"Mum," said Ron, "who's that?"
"That, Ron, is your new classmate."
"Wait, I didn't meet him before. How's he getting into Hogwarts?"
"Well, Dumbledore has decided that he has shown extreme magical ability after age eleven, more around fourteen, and has decided to enroll him for his sixth year. His name—"
"My name is Danny. Danny Fenton." Danny said; if anyone were going to introduce him, it would be Danny himself.
"Fenton?" said Hermione. "As in—"
"Yes, as in the freakish ghost hunting family. The hunting genes didn't come into my sister."
"What about you?"
"Er—I would say yes, in a way."
"Wicked!" said Ron with a wild expression on his face. "You could get rid of the family ghoul!"
"No, Ron, he'd transfigure you into a teddy bear for the ghoul," said George sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"So, Mum shoving food down your throat?" asked Fred. Danny nodded at the mountain on his plate. "Yep, does that to anyone who she thinks is skinny. Keeps trying to shovel more down Ron's and Harry's." Both Mrs. Weasley's and Ron's ears went red.
"Shutup," said Ron quietly.
Hermione walked over to Danny while Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen and told him, "Let's go before she comes back." Nodding, Danny stood up and left with the other four upstairs to be given a grand tour of the area.
"This is Ron's room," said Fred as they adjourned upwards, pointing to the only room on the floor. Taking a peer inside, he saw several posters, with moving people, labeled Chudley Cannons. Every inch of the room was orange, and it hurt Danny to look at it.
George swept in and opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of underwear before Ron could stop him.
"And this is Ronnie's trademark Chudley Cannons underwear! Special edition, since it has a picture of them on it." Indeed it did. George held it up for all to see, stretching the elastic. There was a picture of someone on a broom flying, also moving, on the underwear, stretching out each time George pulled them apart.
"Gimme those!" said Ron, snatching the underwear and ferociously stuffing it in his drawer, his ears a bright shade of red. By then, Hermione, Danny, and Fred had erupted in laughter; that was some pretty entertaining underwear!
"Ah," said a silky voice as a g i r l came down the stairs, followed by another. " 'Ow funny!"
The first one looked to be nineteen, with silky sliver-blond hair tied back with a blue ribbon. Her elegant face glowed and her figure was absolutely beautiful. The second one looked more average; she, too, had straight red hair like all of her siblings, and appeared to be fifteen. She looked onto the first girl with hatred. Danny turned to Hermione, who had rolled her eyes and, startled looked back at him. The redheaded g i r l looked at him with a surprised look on her face.
"What?" he asked.
"Well, almost every guy in the house except for Dad had tried his best to get her attention. Stupid little part-veela. I can't believe I'm going to end up her sister-in-law," said the redheaded girl with hatred in every syllable.
"Okay, back up for me," said Danny. "What's a veela, why did every guy try to get her attention, and explain anything else I might want to know."
"Ginny! He hasn't been at Hogwarts before! He doesn't even know what we learned in our first year!" said Hermione.
"Really?" responded Ginny. "Well, then, a big great welcome to you for entering the wizarding world. Must be powerful to come in late. Anyway, a veela is a ridiculously beautiful creature who have high tempers and turn into fireball birdy thingies when angry. That's why everyone's tried to get her attention.
"That was Fleur Delacour by the way, from Beauxbatons Academy in France. She was one of the wizards and witches participating in the stupid Triwizard Tournament last year with Harry, Cedric, and Viktor Krum from Belgium's Durmstrang Institute.
"Her grandmother was a veela so she doesn't have that high a temper. I'm going to end up her sister-in-law because one of my oldest brothers, Bill, is getting married to her.
"She thinks she's so good, that little snooty, perfect, bossy, know-it-all—" Ginny ran off a long list of all of Fleur's bad qualities.
"Ginny!" said Hermione, bringing her back to reality. "You'll live!"
"You're not going to be her relative! Day after day that stupid little 'Ah, 'ow 'ilarious' she uses to try and win everyone's hearts over! So far she's only gotten to Bill and Ron," said Ginny with a smirk. "Mum reckons Bill should've gone with Tonks."
"Y'know," said Hermione, "I'm starting to see what she means!"
2 weeks later, Dumbledore had met up with Harry on Privet Drive to have a little talk with him. After gathering all his belongings, the two of them Apparated to the Burrow. By the time they got to their destination, it was around midnight.
"WHO'S THERE?" screamed a voice that Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. The door opened to show Mrs. Weasley wielding her wand like a sword. Her expression softened immediately as she continued. "Dear God, you just keep coming at random moments, Dumbledore! First Danny, now Harry! Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley took notice of the lanky sixteen-year-old standing before her.
"My, Harry, you've grown so much!" she said happily, staring at Harry. He was finally getting into puberty, as he had grown a considerable amount and was now reaching Ron's height, who was about a full head taller than Hermione. But what Harry had in height he didn't have in weight; the poor youth had no fat, just skin and bones and was as skinny as a stick. For once, Mrs. Weasley's judgments were correct, as she thought that the boy needed two heaping courses of a midnight snack.
"Hey, Mrs. Weasley," he replied.
Walking in with Mrs. Weasley, or rather being tugged in fiercely by Mrs. Weasley, he was plopped down in the kitchen seat before a plate as Mrs. Weasley began piling food onto his plate, never stopping to let him eat before putting one of everything on the kitchen before him. Harry normally would have insisted that it was enough as it was, he couldn't repress a feeling in his stomach. It growled ferociously and that food was looking really good; this summer, the Dursleys were doing an exceptional job at starving him.
Harry's eyes had wandered to the clock that showed all of the Weasleys on a different hand, which always pointed to their location. Right now, each of them was at MORTAL PERIL. It was then that he noticed…
"Where's Mr. Weasley right now?" he asked through mouthfuls of food.
"Oh, he's still at the Ministry," said Mrs. Weasley. "I don't know if Ron's told you in any of his letters—it's only just happened—but Arthur's been promoted!"
It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to say this.
Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought he could feel his throat blistering. "That's great!" he gasped.
"You are sweet," beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him right now!"
"What exactly—?"
"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing—so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off…Well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs. Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark plugs.
"Oh, Arthur's a bit late…he said he'd be back around midnight…."
She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets, the same one that Harry was eyeing a minute earlier.
"OH!" said Mrs. Weasley; Mr. Weasley's hand was now on "Traveling". "He's coming!"
And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Arthur, is that you?"
"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"
"Oh, honestly…"
"Molly!"
"All right, all right…What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.
"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"
"Arthur, really, this is just silly…"
"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"
Even by the dim light of the lantern set on the table Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.
"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at the edge of the door.
"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."
Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling cloak.
"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home," said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"
Harry quietly left the table as Mr. Weasley sat down and heard the conversation continue as he checked all the rooms on his way up. Most were taken before he reached Fred and George's, where he peered in and found neatly made beds, almost awaiting his arrival. He smiled wearily and, only bothering to take off his shoes and socks, slipped under the covers and fell into a world of black.
Chapter 2
Chapter 3: when I get to it…again.
How'd you like that? More original! Shorter, too! Hallelujah, now both chapters make sense together! For those of you wondering (and I bet very few are) I may or may not be bringing Janel back into the story. That's for me to decide and whether or not I am when I am writing the third chapter. I love Mrs. Weasley; I feel I got her character on the head! Shoving food down their throats…that's the best! I can't really get Fred and George so well…but I loved the underwear bit!
I've got to go! I hope you like this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW or I shall sic a rabid, overly hyper Carrot Top and Janel on you. And you don't want them on you! Especially together!