A/N: What if I told you that the first chapter actually held one of the most important plot points to this story? ;)
(Only a "what if." Who knows if it really does?)
*whistles merrily* Enjoy!
PS. Also, not quite sure if I pulled this off successfully or not, so any honest comments are greatly appreciated.
Last updated 12/29/2019
Chapter Nine
Halloween
It was Halloween that it happened. The Incident. The precursor to future troubles. The harbinger to worse times. A portal to the dawning future, if you will.
...There is a reason why Hogwarts students are not allowed outside on the school grounds at night. Especially on Halloween, when the veil between worlds is thinnest.
Humanity
Halloween. He hummed happily at the thought. It had always been a holiday favorite of his, unfettered by the arguments and misery that accompanied Christmas (as both of his parents did, in fact, believe in ghosts). This year, the celebration was promised to be even more spectacular than the regular FentonWorks invention fashion show, with the Hogwarts feast looming ahead and the decorations at every corner. Danny heard that there were going to be dancing skeletons.
There was a strange tingling sensation he felt as he skipped down the halls, almost as if the magic were buzzing within him. He felt open, abundant with energy. He was running rampant with a sense of daring that would have appalled him on any other day.
"Hey, everyone," he greeted the table with a wide grin as he skipped to his seat, ready for breakfast.
"You seem cheery," Seamus said.
"Is there any reason not to be?" Danny asked, laughing. "It's Halloween!"
But even on Halloween, they had classes to attend to. First was Charms to start off the day, and Professor Flitwick had promised to finally teach them how to levitate objects – a feat which all of them had been expectantly looking forward to after a demonstration earlier in the year.
After he had gone over the basics of the spell, he assigned all the students into pairs. Harry Potter with Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom with Parvati Patil. Danny Fenton with Dean Thomas. Hermione Granger with Ronald Weasley.
Danny noticed Hermione looked distinctly unhappy about the pairing, and that there was a fairly sour expression on Ron's face as well. He wondered about it for a moment, before turning back to his own wandwork. He knew he would be able to perform the spell this time; the magic abuzz within him was proof of that. He felt like skipping from the extra energy, but instead focused it into the spellwork, smiling at Dean, his new partner for the day.
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked from the top of his pile of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the words properly is very important too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."
Swish and flick. Danny mimicked the movement once, for practice, and found it fluid and natural.
"Wingardium leviosa!" he said confidently.
Nothing happened.
Not a twitch, not even a rustle of the feather bristles. Nothing.
He stared at it in disbelief.
But… His mind cried in weak protest, I thought…
Yet there was still that insufferable energy building up within him, and he felt so restless he had to do something.
He swung his head wildly about the room, searching for something, anything. His gaze landed on Seamus, who was just about to cast a spell –
His feather caught on fire. Danny jumped to his feet in a wordless cry, eager to have something to do, but Harry extinguished it with his hat before anything could happen. He dropped back down to his seat, feeling listless, bursting with energy.
"Are you alright, mate?" Dean asked, concerned. Danny stared at him for a moment, mouth agape, before he finally translated the sounds and cadence of a voice into actual meaning.
"Er, yes," he said quickly, too quickly.
Fortunately, they were soon distracted by Professor Flitwick's high-pitched outcry of congratulation and the sound of clapping.
"Oh, well done!" the professor said, smiling. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"
And indeed Hermione had performed the levitation charm successfully. Danny turned to see a feather hovering above her head, her wand pointing at it, and smiled. The restless energy calmed down.
Maybe she can teach me, he thought, because it seemed to be a hopeless case for Danny. He just didn't know what was causing this. It was like the first weeks all over again!
Class was over too soon, and almost everybody – except for Danny – had been able to levitate their feather at least a few inches from their desk by the end of it. He tried not to think too much about it, and rejoined with Dean and Seamus to walk to their next class, a tradition that he greatly benefited from by not being one of the last to enter. He still didn't have quite the grasp over the castle that they did. It was only a few minutes before they arrived at History of Magic.
He slipped into the free seat next to Neville, frowning when he noticed someone missing.
"Where's Hermione?"
Neville frowned, looking worried. He gestured to Parvati Patil, who was talking enthusiastically with Lavender Brown. "Ask her."
Danny didn't ask, but with just a minute of listening in, he discovered that Hermione was currently hiding in the girl's bathroom crying.
That was the first time he had ever seriously considered skipping class (it was only History of Magic, after all, and they never learned anything there anyway, so why bother?). Still, he stayed. He didn't go after Hermione. Parvati had said she had wanted to be left alone, and anyway, he couldn't exactly get to her when she was in the girl's bathroom. So he sat back down into his seat with a frown, worrying all the while throughout class.
He hoped nothing too bad had happened.
After class, they all went directly to the Great Hall. Sumptuous food appeared on the tables in golden goblets and silverware, but he wasn't interested. The restless energy, now an antsy urge that left him tapping his foot as he sat, had returned. He still didn't see Hermione.
Finally, he stood up, intending to go after her, gender divisions be damned, when Professor Quirrell burst into the room, sprinting to Dumbledore with his turban askew and eyes wide with fright.
"Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."
The man dropped into a dead faint.
A troll? Danny thought bewilderedly, staring as the Great Hall festivities erupted into pandemonium. It seemed too sudden a switch to comprehend. Hermione, and then a troll…
Hermione. Troll. His mind made the connection.
Panic flooded his being, a frantic worry only intensified from his previous concern. He whirled around, searching for somebody, somebody who would know what to do. There. His eyes rested on Professor McGonagall.
Dumbledore was speaking. "Prefects," he said, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
Danny ignored Percy Weasley's reassuring calls for the first years to follow him, instead weaving through the crowded bodies to the teacher's table, where Professor McGonagall would be. He arrived panting for breath.
"Professor," he said, and felt the curious eyes of all the staff and found himself not caring, "Hermione's still in the bathroom! She doesn't know about the troll!"
"Hermione Granger?" McGonagall looked suitably alarmed. He nodded his head eagerly, and she turned to the other teachers. She looked quite severe in that moment, more grave than he had ever seen before. "Severus…"
Danny was startled to see her referring to Snape, and even more so that the bat-like man understood. Snape nodded cordially to her, a terse expression on his face, and strode quickly from the hall. Professor McGonagall looked back at him, her face softening as she gazed upon the boy.
"We will make sure Mrs. Granger will be safe. Now, follow your prefect back to the common room before they leave without you."
He was skeptical and still worried, but there wasn't much else he could do. He nodded quickly and scampered back to the doors of the Great Hall to follow after Percy Weasley.
The walk back to the common room was like a great blank in his mind. It passed without a second's thought, and it was all too soon that he stood in front of the portrait of the fat lady guarding the Gryffindor tower. He later attributed it to shock, but the nervous thrum he felt seemed to discount the white blankness he would have expected from such an emotion.
It was in the common room when he finally learned the truth of the matter.
"I wonder if Hermione is okay," Lavender whispered to Parvati, not at all sounding sincere. "Do you think she's still out there?" The other girl shook her head.
"Maybe. With what Ron said to her though…"
Danny's head shot up as if electrified. Ron? What Ron said?
"What was that?" he asked Parvati casually, ignoring the startled looks they gave him for butting into their conversation. "What did Ron say?"
An old memory surfaced. You're wrong, Hermione had said. It's still happening…
They tried to keep up their pretense of nonchalance, even when they knew how close the friendship between him and Hermione ran. Parvati shrugged noncommittally.
"I'm not sure," she said. "All I know is that it was something nasty, and she ran away crying. My sister saw her in the bathroom, and told me." She said something else, but he wasn't really listening anymore.
The nervous thrum had transformed into something uglier, a raging beast. Primitive, animal-like. Angry. He remembered his promise to Hermione. He remembered her saying she could take care of herself. He remembered her telling him that she was still shunned, even here.
The realization that Ron was one of those people she had been talking about, all those months ago, hurt, and the hurt made him angry. Angry at this person who had betrayed his trust in such a way. For it was no anonymous stranger who had done this wrongdoing to Hermione, but someone he had considered a friend.
It was a betrayal of the worst kind, made worse that it had not been done to him, but instead to Hermione. Hermione, stickler for following the rules, best intentions always in mind. Hermione, the girl who wanted to be brave. Hermione, the genius who would know the subject by heart even before it spewed out from the teacher's mouth, and still think it not enough.
Ron had made her cry.
Ron, a bully. He couldn't let that pass.
He let out a pent-up breath, and felt some of the anger diminish, minisculely. It was still there, ever-present, but it wasn't the blazing inferno of hurt, indignation, and fury it had been moments earlier. He set himself more steadily onto his feet, and searched the common room for the target of his aggression.
Nothing.
He frowned. That was odd. Everybody should have been –
Oh. The portrait door had just opened. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley stepped in through the entrance.
All thoughts of reason fled his mind at the sight of that freckled face. It was one thing to know a person, a friend, as a bully; to see his face and recognize it as one who had hurt Hermione, to warp the image of a smiling, friendly face to one of treachery and cruelness – that was a vastly different thing. The boiling simmer of his emotions flared into a crescendo, his hostility rising to new heights he had never experienced previously.
Danny marched up angrily to the famed celebrity and his redheaded friend. It was Ron who he glared at, the one who felt the full force of his fury. He felt his hand trembling, imagined himself driving that bony hand into the plump face and freckles of this boy. The satisfying crunch it would give.
"You're a bully," he said, and he was surprised how cold and vicious his voice sounded. He ignored Harry Potter's shocked look. "Leave Hermione alone. Or you deal with me."
"Look, mate –" Ron began. Danny cut him off.
"Look, nothing. That's it. Just leave her alone."
He stomped away, feeling not the slightest bit satiated. He almost wished he had punched Ron in the face, despite the pain he knew it would bring. But no, no, Hermione wouldn't have wanted that. Hadn't she said she wanted to take care of it alone? He felt hot, stifled. His hand itched for action. His blood sang with cold fury, and a strange insanity seemed to take over his mind as he walked, walked and walked.
His feet brought him outside of the castle, where the cold Halloween air would enter his lungs and the sight of the stars to meet his eyes.
Some tension dissipated at the sight. The night sky of Hogwarts was indeed beautiful, and it was refreshing for it to just be the stars and him alone, not viewed through the barrier of a castle window. He knew first years weren't supposed to be on the grounds alone at night, but he found that he didn't care.
The stars had always held a special power for him, something beyond the realm of simple mortal law.
His solace was short-lived, however. As his awareness of his immediate surroundings returned from musings on the constellations, he found himself shaking, his body clenched together so tight he felt as stiff as a boardwalk. Some sort of sixth sense was screaming in his mind to runrungetoutofhereoutoutrun –
Slowly, without knowing why, he turned.
A hole in reality stood in the air before him. Green, glowing. Violent. Tendrils seemed to emit from the thing, flying off in various directions only to snap back moments later. The central body of the aberration was a multitude of spinning disks, a tesseract impossible to understand.
He wanted to back away, to listen to that voice screaming in his ear and runawayrunaway. But his feet refused to move.
He watched as something floated out of the portal (Portal? a small part of his mind thought, in the way that the most trifling thoughts occur in the most desperate of circumstances. To what?). It was floating. Green. He recognized it as the color of death.
A ghost. Not the Hogwarts, wizarding kind of ghost. Not even like Peeves, a dangerous poltergeist.
No. This was much worse. He knew it like he knew his own face, knew it like he knew up was up and down was down. Knew it like he knew the sharp tang of fear radiating from the being.
This was bad.
It was his mother's most haunting stories come to life. An impalpable terror had awoken in him, innate and ancient like the fear of prey in the face of its predator, knowing it faced its end. He trembled, captured by its horror, enthralled by its fearsome majesty.
Too fast, the ghost was in front of him. No, inside him. It was gone. No, he was gone.
His thoughts sputtered to a stop, until they quieted to almost nothing. He felt hazy, confused.
...What just... happened? he managed, blearily. He saw green light, as if it came through a blurry lenses. What…
SsssslleEEeeepP, a voice told him. No, not a voice. A thought. Wasn't it? He was just tired. That was it. He wanted to sleep.
He yawned and lifted his hand to wipe his bleary eyes –
His hand didn't move. He didn't yawn. Nothing happened, except a flashed feeling of irritation, distinctly foreign.
Alarm shot through him.
The tiredness dissipated away, fell away from him like loose grains of sand. The world crystallized, becoming focused and sharp once more, and suddenly he knew exactly what had just happened.
Watch out for those ghosts! he remembered his Dad explaining, overly exuberant like always. If they get a hold of you, they might overshadow you!
Overshadow? Danny had asked half-heartedly, already at an age that allowed a healthy dose of skepticism for his parent's antics.
Possession, his mother had said kindly. Ghosts can possess you if they get near enough.
He had been possessed. A ghost had possessed him. Was still possessing him.
SsSLLEeePp, the voice said more forcefully, and Danny knew this time it wasn't simply his own thought, telling him he was tired.
His fist clenched, in anger rather than the panic that had overtaken him earlier. He was shocked that he had been able to move his body at all, but obviously the ghost's possession wasn't as complete as his parents had thought.
Get out of my body, he seethed. He remembered his anger from earlier, at Ron and Harry for making Hermione cry and putting her into danger. That had been nothing compared to this, this indignation and hatred for this casual violation of his body. Get out!
He felt the ghost's shock, almost as if it were his own. Almost animal-like, the ghost cowered back, retreating into the depths of Danny's mind. He felt some sensation in his limbs return, as if the reins of control over his own body had been returned to him.
It wasn't enough.
"GET OUT!" he screamed, and the sound echoed through the cool night air.
The ghost fled.
When Danny's racing heart finally calmed down and he felt the last of the burning coals of his anger dwindle, he suddenly felt drained, as if he had just run a long marathon. His mind was in shock. A ghost, a ghost just like the ones Mom and Dad were researching, had just attacked him. Had just tried to take over his body.
And it had failed.
He didn't know what astonished him more: that it had happened, or that he was still alive.
Growing Up
When he returned to the common room, he found Harry and Ron waiting for him. They stood up from the comfy armchairs rather hastily after spotting him entering.
"We saved Hermione," Ron blurted. "When the troll came, we went to the bathrooms where she was – knocked the troll right out."
Harry, beside him, eagerly nodded.
"You saved her," Danny repeated numbly, too tired to say anything else.
"Yeah." Ron seemed to hesitate, seeing something in Danny's face. "Are you alright, mate?"
Danny's heart rate picked up. Was it so noticeable? Did something look out of place from the ghost attack? He almost couldn't bring himself to care, but somehow it mattered.
"I mean, are we okay?" Ron said lamely after a pause, and Danny felt an inexplicable relief, wondering why even as he felt it. Why had he wanted to hide the incident from his friends? "About Hermione?"
Danny stared at him for a moment, unable to think. His mind still rested on the subject of the ghost, that cruel, green monstrosity.
"Yeah," he said at last. "We're okay."
Then he left, trudging up the stairs to the dorm room. A shiver seemed to wrack over him as he pulled his blanket over his head, and he wondered why he felt so cold.