EchoesInTheNight: Indeed it has been too long. Hehe, I'm glad that I have you puzzled and that you understand my trollhood so well. (And of course, thank you for all the kind words. Also, your username/guestname is awesome.)

Last updated 12/29/2019

Chapter Twelve

A Lost Month

I'm so sorry, Eliza. She died, and I couldn't stay. I am a coward.

There is so much I still need to tell you. When you read this, will you tell me, and ask me to tell you more about her? Your grandmother... she was beautiful, like a storm. I loved her.

I think I am writing this now to keep some semblance of sanity. Or, maybe it's this bottled, pent-up feeling that urges me to tell, speak, spill everything. Eliza... this story, it isn't a happy one.

Please forgive me. I am only human.

Humanity

Danny stared into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and did his best not to vomit.

He should have been delighted at the opportunity to speak to the man. Relieved, excited, anything. He could finally tell someone – someone other than Professor Quirrell – what was going on. About the – the –

Surely, the headmaster was trustworthy. Someone with that kind of a face and twinkling eyes and such a grandfatherly demeanor couldn't be anything but.

And yet.

He couldn't help the nervous sinking feeling he felt, like a heavy weight was lodged in his gut. His hands shook ever so slightly in his lap. He kept them carefully hidden under the blue hospital bed sheet.

"Mr. Fenton?" the headmaster began, his eyes crinkled with concern. "How are you feeling?"

His gaze drifted down to stare at the bed's white metal railing, unable to keep staring at those sparkling blue eyes.

"Madam Pomphrey already checked my health," he mumbled. She had come by earlier, waving her wand and telling him she was running diagnostics. She hadn't told him much else.

"Ah, my boy, but that will only tell her about your body. How are you feeling?"

He hesitated.

He remembered flashes, glimpses. The Owlery room. A torn portrait. Flying. He was in a rickety, wooden tunnel. Part of some sort of tower? He didn't know.

"What happened?" he asked.

His mind was foggy. He felt as if he had woken from a dream. He felt as if he were going to say something, something, but it was slipping away –

The headmaster was silent for a time.

Then,

"What do you remember?"

A violent tremor suddenly wracked through his body, and he couldn't help the jerk of his body, betraying his nervousness, fear.

(Why do I feel so scared?)

He tried he tried he tried, he pulled at the strings of his mind, he desperately searched for a memory to latch onto but all his thoughts were slick and slippery and nothing made sense.

"I–"

His voice choked, he couldn't continue. Stupid, stupid tears were clogging up his vision. He couldn't see. His heart beat frantically, his breathing erratic. He didn't know why he was feeling this way. He couldn't stop it.

The world slid sideways, a sickening jolt. Everything was suddenly darker, less real.

"I - I d-don't -" he tried to say.

He tried to calm down, slow down his breathing, make the world make sense, but there was something, something making him not able to be strong, not able to breathe right, to...

The world was now spinning, spiralling around him. He thought of dreams. Caveman impressions of things, people, events.

Headmaster Dumbledore?

He registered someone standing up.

"Poppy!" a voice called.

Then the world was all muted and blurry, like he was seeing the entire world underwater. Some time passed. He didn't know how much.

Dimly, he thought he heard voices yelling.

Some part of him knew it was Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, at Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster. Another part of him didn't care to know at all, and so he didn't.

He imagined the voices into monsters and evil beasts, a story that would only make sense in that present moment. He imagined everything to be a story, easily remembered, easily tucked away and forgotten. He imagined that maybe his life wasn't a story, after all.

"Here, honey," said another voice, pushing a glass of something into his hands. The arguing, yelling, the monsters screaming and all the worries of the world had stopped. "Drink this. It will make you feel better."

There was still something caught in his throat, or something heavy and difficult about his breathing, but it was better now. Manageable. He drank the glass.

It was warm and sweet.

He imagined being home.

Humanity

There was silence for a time.

He figured out what it was. That something, that awful something.

I can't remember, I can't remember.

He felt fractured.

Tossed away.

Hurt.

Why?

Then.

His time was up. He was leaving the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey, who had yelled at the headmaster, who had given him a warm, sweet drink, who had told him reassuring crooning words, decided that what he needed was to be with his friends, return to his normal schedule.

It was Percy Weasley who led him back to the Gryffindor tower.

He remembered Percy. It was Percy who had helped him find Neville's frog, so long ago. It was Percy who had comforted him in the common room the first night at Hogwarts, and who had indirectly told him that his dreams of becoming an astronaut, in wizarding world, were practically impossible.

Now, it was Percy Weasley who managed to look both simultaneously uncomfortable and sympathetic.

"And how have you been doing?" Percy asked as the walked briskly down the grand halls of Hogwarts.

"Er," he cleared his throat, then blinked wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, furrowing his brows.

He didn't actually know, did he? For a brief moment, the slippery, fluttering panic returned, but the presence of Percy, a prefect (and someone he absolutely refused to cry stupidly in front of) stabilized him.

Luckily, Percy seemed to be just as uncomfortably awkward in the situation, and so, instead of waiting expectantly for him to continue, Percy decided to fill in the silence himself.

"One of those days, eh? I can't say I've been in the hospital wing for myself many times, but I've been for Fred and George's sake plenty of times, and I must say, it's not the most pleasant of places to be."

Danny nodded mutely.

"I did want to tell you – I did more research into what we talked about, er, much earlier. I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you about it." When Danny stared at him blankly, he rushed to explain, "Er, about space, and jobs and the like. I'll confess I didn't really know much about space before you mentioned it to me –" Here, his cheeks flushed red as if the admission pained him, "– but I have done plenty of research since then."

"Y-you did?" Some strange emotion was bubbling up inside of him.

Percy graced him with a smile, looking pleased with himself. "Yes! I did. There are apparently several options that I had never heard about before. Apparently, some wizards have been assigned to watch the Muggles technuh-technological progress – what a strange idea! – and then other independent wizards doing their own research on the topic. Quite fascinating, honestly! Did you know, that in Germany, they are conducting…"

And on and on he talked, and on and on Danny listened, until at last they reached the Gryffindor common rooms. It was almost disappointing to reach their destination, because now Percy's face was flushed red with excitement instead and Danny's spirits had been cheered with all the talk of space. He felt as if the past day (day?) had barely happened at all.

Then Percy called out the password to the Gryffindor tower and the Fat Lady swung open her portrait and the moment of peace was over.

Humanity

"Are you okay?"

This was the first thing that Hermione asked him when she saw him.

He shifted self-consciously. By now, he had already figured out all sorts of strange things: it was the beginning of December, he looked like he hadn't been eating or sleeping properly, and apparently, both he and Hermione had collapsed inside a Quidditch spectator tower for mysterious reasons.

Hermione had woken up and been cleared hours before by Madam Pomfrey, long before Danny had even awoken.

"I'm… okay," he said, not meeting her eyes. "Are you?"

He was surprised when she pulled him into a sudden hug.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he, startled, realized that it sounded as if she had been crying. "This is my fault. I've been avoiding you for so long, and then I saw you in that tunnel, looking so… dead, almost, it was like… I wasn't sure what had come over me."

She released him, and he stared at her. It was like he hadn't seen her face in so long.

"Hermione…" he said, and he felt unbalanced, confused, dizzy.

Avoiding him?

(A Halloween feast.)

Why had she been avoiding him?

(Red, simmering anger.)

What happened in that month he lost?

(An impression of violent neon green.)

"I-I don't understand," he said aloud. "What happened?"

Hermione paused, looked confused for a brief moment, then scrunched her eyebrows together. Her eyelids were a puffy red.

"Well," she started, "I… What do you mean, what happened?"

"I remember…" Danny shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I remember the troll. What happened then?"

If anything, she looked more confused. "The troll? That was a month ago."

It didn't feel like a month ago. It didn't feel like yesterday either, even though that's what his mind told him it should be. It felt like forever ago, as if it hadn't really happened, maybe, but everything was centered around this one memory, and if he could understand it, then maybe he'd know what had happened to him.

The sensation of not remembering was terrifying. Like he was missing some essentially component of himself. Anything could have happened. And he wouldn't know it.

He struggled to find a way to explain this to her.

"Hermione, I…" He stared at her, hopelessly lost for words.

"You what?" she asked.

"I don't remember," he said quietly, almost imperceptibly. But she had heard.

"Remember what?" She stared at him, bewildered.

"Anything!" he burst suddenly. "It was Halloween and there was – something – something green and awful – and a troll – Quirrell – and I – I –" He stopped. He couldn't make sense of it. His head hurt.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Oh," she said. Then she hugged him again, because he was stupid and couldn't remember and had nothing better to do except be weak.

Then it was over. She pulled away.

"You like awful," she said, scrutinizing him once more. "Like you haven't eaten much. How do you feel?"

He was startled by the question.

"F-fine," he said, trying to make it sound like the truth.

She frowned.

"You must have hit your head, back in the tower. That must be why you can't remember."

"Right," he said, weakly.

And thus their friendship was reborn.

Growing Up

In the three weeks that remained before winter break, Danny caught up with everything: his classes were now going well, Hermione had taken him to "meet" her two new best friends, Ron and Harry (she even confided in him that they were looking for something about a Nicholas Flamel – had you ever heard of him? Ah, well, it was worth a try), he had talked with Neville and Dean and Seamus and everybody he knew and some he didn't (he had been repeatedly informed by everyone about how much better he looked, and how strange and reclusive he had been the past month). Everyone was telling him about all he had missed, and asking questions he couldn't answer.

It bothered him, how everything was so quickly becoming normal when he was still missing a chunk of his memory, but there was nothing he could do.

Magic, at least, was easier than ever. He loved the thrum, the buzzing feeling he felt whenever he cast a spell. The professors were astounded with his progress, and Flitwick in particular heartily congratulated him. Percy, who Danny had been talking to more often now, had also been delighted.

On the last day before break, Professor Quirrell asked to see him.

Danny tried not to think about what the professor had told him, and asked of him.

He was finally going home! He was finally going to see his parents again, and his sister. It had been too long.

The day passed all too quickly, in a torrent of packing, goodbyes, and see-you-soon!'s. Before he knew it, it was the next morning, and he was ready to get on the Hogwarts express.

(He somehow couldn't quite bring himself to be entirely happy, however, with what Professor Quirrell had told him weighing on his mind.)

He rode in the train with Neville and Hermione, and they chatted about their break plans. Hermione's family was travelling for Christmas – how wonderful! where to? Neville was staying home, like Danny – do you want to get together after Christmas?

The time in the train, too, passed quickly with his friends, and soon enough, he was at the station.

It felt surreal. He was back in London, back home, back to reality. He craned his neck over the crowd to find his family.

There they were.

His dad, as large and clumsy and as enthusiastic as ever. His mom, still donning her goggles, standing ever so proudly in her jumpsuit. Jazz next to them, looking as if she were ashamed to be part of this family, a small twitching smile nevertheless gracing her face.

Danny waved and called to them, and weaved his way towards his family.

His family. It was so, so good to see them again.

He hadn't realized until this moment, but he had missed them.

"Mom! Dad! Jazz!" He felt the huge grin stretching across his face.

"Danny-boy!" his dad bellowed, and bestowed upon him a large Fenton-family hug.

Danny felt as if, for once, everything was right again in the world.

Then he was in the car with the rest of the family, his dad in the driver's seat, yelling along with Jazz to pleaseslowdownorelsewearegoingtodieeee –

Mom turned from the front seat to ruffle his hair, giving him her motherly smile, purple eyes creasing fondly.

"I'm glad you're home."

It was just like the Fenton family to be so infuriating and so wonderful at the same time.

Humanity

"So, spill."

Jazz was peering at him from his bed, her teal eyes opened wide and curious.

"Spill what?" he asked, slightly annoyed, but with a smile on his face.

"You were just at a magic school! Come on, you can't tell me you have nothing to tell me about it. What was it like? Was it fun? What did you learn?" She looked at him closely, scrutinizing his face, then gasped loudly. "You look tired. Were you – were you actually studying?"

She sounded simultaneously so pleased and incredulous that Danny burst into laughter.

"Dan-ny!" she whined.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, still chuckling. "It's just good to see you."

Her look suddenly turned pensive. "It has been a while, hasn't it? It's been quiet without you in the house."

There was a pause.

"I missed you," he said suddenly. Jazz looked at him, nonplussed.

Then she smiled.

"I missed you too." The excitement returned to her face in a red flush. "Soo, how was it?"

For a moment, he wasn't sure what to think. How indeed, was his time at Hogwarts? He remembered the last three weeks fondly, but the ones before…

He didn't want to disappoint Jazz, however, when she had that eager look on her face.

"Hogwarts was amazing – magic is amazing. I wish I could show you – it's an amazing feeling, like, well, like magic."

He showed her his wand.

"You saw this before I left, but I wanted to show you something. See this mark? It's, ah –" he rubbed the back of his neck, "it's where I've always held it, and because of the oil on our hands, it shows up. It's a nice feeling though, like proof that I can do magic and that I do magic, you know? It's really cool. I'm a wizard, Jazz!" It was the kind of small, embarrassing thing that he could only ever tell a sibling.

"How does magic work?" she asked curiously.

"Well, basically," Danny said, holding his wand upright, "you motion your wand, say a word, an incantation with an intent and it happens. You feel a sort of flow, a buzz. The spells we're learning now are more basic – you don't need so much intent, I think – that's what the theory books and Hermione say, anyway."

"Ohh, and how is Hermione? Have you two been sticking close in Hogwarts?"

Danny opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly stopped.

"She's doing well, now," he said slowly. That part was easy. He had talked to her on the train. Her family was traveling. Before, though...

A sharp shoot of pain lanced through his head.

"Danny?" his sister's voice sounded concerned.

"What? Oh. Hermione. What did you ask again?" He felt muddled suddenly, disorientated.

(A dark wooden tunnel, suspended high in the air.)

(The sound of muted cheers.)

(Her face.)

"Are you okay?" Jazz asked.

"I feel a little…" His gaze snapped up to meet hers.

She was his sister. His older, wonderful sister who he hadn't seen in so long.

"Danny?"

She cared. She had practically raised him. If he didn't tell her, who would he tell?

"Jazz, something happened." He didn't like admitting it. Maybe if he pretended nothing had happened, it would go away.

She waited. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes any longer.

"I was – Jazz, I lost an entire month." He paused, licking his lips nervously. "I mean, I don't remember anything from November. Well, there are glimpses – impressions, but I … I just don't remember, and… it scares me."

"You lost a month?" she repeated softly, inviting him to continue despite the furrow in her eyebrows.

"Professor Quirrell told me that I had been possessed by a ghost," he said impulsively, and gulped. He stared at the corner of his bed.

That hadn't been all that Quirrell had told him.

"A ghost?"

Her voice wasn't incredulous. It wasn't disbelieving, or wavering. She believed him.

"People told me that I had acted different then – not talking, unhealthy. Hermione… Hermione told me she had been avoiding me for some reason, for something I said during Halloween. And I couldn't even remember – !

"But during Halloween, I keep on seeing it – green and terrible and awful. It wasn't like the ghosts at Hogwarts, talkative and kind – though some are still scary. This was… this was one of mom and dad's ghosts, the ones they talked about in scary bedtime stories. It was green and awful and so wrong, and also so…"

He suddenly couldn't speak. His throat was dry.

So…

Beautiful?

Was that what he was going to say?

No, it couldn't be.

"Why was a ghost inside Hogwarts?" Jazz asked.

"It wasn't inside," Danny replied absentmindedly. "I wasn't supposed to be there. I was angry – angry at someone and I had come out to see the stars…"

He blinked. He remembered something.

"It wasn't meant to be there either. It came from a gate, a portal, a swirling vortex of green…"

He felt a strange ache in his chest. He chanced a glance at Jazz, and found her expression pensive, one finger placed on her chin.

"How long did this Professor Quirrell know you were... possessed?" she asked, slowly.

Danny's gaze snapped back to hers, suddenly alert. He guiltily looked away, feeling as if he had somehow done something wrong. Jazz leaned forward, a deep frown on her face. She was like a shark smelling blood – though a very well-intentioned shark.

"How long did Professor Quirrell know?" she repeated.

"I don't remember!" he snapped, more harshly than he meant to. "He's a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – he… must have figured it out sometime. He said he was helping me."

"Danny," Jazz said seriously, "I'm going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me as honestly as you can." She paused, taking a breath. "Did Professor Quirell do something to you?"

Danny opened his mouth to immediately reject the idea, then closed it. He shook his head. "I… don't know."

"Did any other professors discuss this with you?"

He thought back to Albus Dumbledore's twinkling eyes. "Yes – no. Sort of. Quirrell was the only one who told me about the ghost. The other ones just asked me how I was, and so on."

"Don't you find anything strange about that?" Jazz pressed.

"Yes, Jazz, it is strange that I was possessed by a ghost, the creatures our parents have hunted for years without any success, inside freaking Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Danny snarked. "I never thought there was anything normal about any of this."

Jazz stared at him flatly. Danny sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm not feeling so good right now." He stared at the corner of his bed linen as if it was the single most interesting thing his eyes had ever laid sight on.

Jazz sighed too, and readjusted herself so that she was sitting next to him. She touched his shoulder gently, regaining his attention, before resting her arm back on her lap. "Danny… this could be serious. I'm worried about you. Something about this doesn't sound right to me. I mean," she grimaced, "aren't your teachers supposed to be the ones helping you? Wouldn't they have noticed something was wrong? For an entire month?"

"Quirrell was helping me," his mouth said. Something about his tone must have caught Jazz's attention. Her eyes searched his face inquisitively.

"...Are you sure?"

He hesitated. "He told me he did. Jazz, just… let it go, please?"

He didn't want to talk about Quirrell. He didn't want to talk about any of this, not really.

"You can't just hide from this forever, you know," Jazz sighed. "You should at least tell our parents. This is serious. You might even have to leave Hogwarts because of this."

His insides squirmed at the thought. "It… it can't be that bad can it?" he asked.

"Danny. You were possessed by a ghost. The teachers either were incompetent enough that they didn't notice or they decided not to help you for a month – and that's nothing but suspicious. And not only that, I'm pretty sure that they didn't even tell our parents that you have amnesia. In what world is that not that bad!?" She lifted her arms in frustration to emphasize her point. Then she seemed to hear her own words. "Yeah, okay. That's pretty bad. Change that from a might have to leave Hogwarts to a yes, you definitely should."

Danny was alarmed. "So if I tell Mom and Dad, they're going to make me leave Hogwarts?"

"No – no, that's not what I meant." Jazz looked like she was desperately trying to take her words back. "You know them. They might not even realize how bad it is. Heck, they might even encourage you to go back to hunt those ghosts." She covered her face in her hands. "God, what lousy parents we have."

"They're not lousy," Danny said defensively. "They're… rambunctious."

One teal eye peaked from between her fingers. Then Jazz laughed, loudly. She swung her arms back around, so that her palms rested on the bed and she was leaned back into them for support. "Rambunctious. Yeah, right. Good word."

Danny smiled, pleased with himself. Hanging out with Percy had paid off. Especially if he could make his sister laugh like that.

"We should still tell Mom, though," Jazz said, after her laughter had died down.

Danny frowned.

"But – didn't you say –"

"Dad might make you go back and hunt down all the ghosts, but Mom is much more reasonable. Trust me. She'll know what to do." Jazz sounded a little doubtful herself.

"I don't want to leave Hogwarts though," he said. "I like it there. And… where else would I learn magic?"

"Really." She sounded incredulous. "You've been there for four months. One of which you were possessed for. Are you really thinking about risking your safety just to stay there?"

Jazz had always been too reasonable, too mature. Danny shrugged, trying to shake off her reason like it was some nasty sticky oil that would cling to his clothes. "I have friends there."

"Hermione."

"And Dean. And Seamus. Neville. Percy. Harry, and maybe even Ron, a little bit," he said defensively.

"You can always keep in touch. If they're good friends, they wouldn't mind texting – I mean, owling you," she said.

Danny sighed, feeling defeated. "But where else could I learn magic?"

"I'm sure there are other schools," Jazz said consolingly. "Mom and I can look into some."

"You're talking like I already agreed to tell Mom," he grouched. "Which I haven't, by the way."

"Promise me you will."

"Jazz."

"Promise." She was always far too insistent.

"Fine, all right," he grumbled. "But after Christmas." And preferably after I leave. In a future a long, long time from now.

"Deal," Jazz sounded delighted.

"And you won't tell her if I don't," he stipulated quickly.

"But –"

"Please."

She looked at him, frowned, made her displeasure clear. But at last her resolve crumbled before his pleading eyes.

"Alright, fine," she said. "I won't tell. Until you're ready. But you will tell her." She glared at him threateningly.

He scowled, but after a moment's hesitation, nodded.

Then Jazz hugged him.

"Thank you, Danny."

"For what?" he said weakly.

"For trusting me."

Growing Up

It was the dreaded day: Christmas. Christmas for the Fentons had a long history as a day of terrible renown and, er, healthy debate.

The infamous argument had already started in the wee hours of the morning:

The infamous argument had already started, in the wee hours of the morning. Mom, yelling fervently "No, Santa does not exist!" and Dad just as passionately protesting "Does too!"

Danny groaned. What a great start to the day.

For a family event, the day wasn't filled with very much family time. Jazz and Danny did their best to avoid their parents, snooping around the house cautiously, whispering quietly, like co-conspirators.

They snuck their presents under the battered Christmas tree at the first chance, hoped for the best, and prayed that one day, the argument would just be settled and done with, either way.

The only time they really came together as a family that day was for dinner.

It was a Fenton special: glowing green goop. Maddie ladled out the Christmas appetizer, giving generous portions to each bowl. Danny cringed when he saw it. He hesitantly spooned some and plopped some green bits into his mouth, expecting the worst.

"Wow, this is really good, Mom," Danny said, surprised.

Jazz shot him a skeptical look. "Really?"

She tried some, then grimaced.

"Tasted like plain old ectoplasm to me."

"Huh," Danny shrugged, then merrily chowed down some more.

It looks like he would enjoy one Christmas dinner, at least.

Dinner, at first, was blessedly silent (well, mostly, at least), as everyone was occupied with their food. Then, when the discussion began, Danny was pleasantly surprised to discover that their parents were attempting to keep their Santa argument off the family dinner table.

"So how has school been?" Maddie asked him brightly. "You've been away for so long!"

"It's been… good," he said, still eating. "Magic is really cool."

"Any favorite classes?"

"Astronomy! Definitely. Though it's a little different from our conventional science classes…"

"How so?"

He considered it.

"Well, for one, it's not so much about why stars and planets do what they do, but about what they are and how they're relevant in predictions related to the time of the year, and so on. And wizards always have the strangest ideas – like imagining that a moon could be covered in mice, rather than ice! It would seem totally normal to them.

"But the class is really cool because wizards can have such a greater view of the stars. Their telescopes are enhanced to be able to see the surface of planets light-years away…"

He trailed off dreamily, and since his mom seemed to recognize his interest in the class, she quizzed him still more on his experiences. It was nice.

Of course, this topic didn't last long. The Fenton family always had a knack for mutating every normal conversation into a topic about ghosts.

"Have you seen any ghosts at Hogwarts?" Maddie asked innocuously.

Dad started, his attention aroused. "Ghosts!" he cried. "Where?"

Danny was also startled. But he forced his mind away from that ghost – that glowing, green monstrosity – to the more typical Hogwarts ghost. He noticed Jazz shooting him a look.

"Oh, the Hogwarts ghosts aren't like the ghosts you study, Mom, Dad," he said, keeping a smile plastered in place. "They… can't really touch things – well, except Peeves, but he's a poltergeist, and still isn't too powerful. They're also more silvery and translucent…"

"Aww…" Dad looked let down.

"Are they aggressive?" Mom asked, looking dubious, and Damny let loose an incredulous laugh.

"What? No. The Hogwarts ghosts? They're nice. Well, at least our House ghost is. I don't know about the Bloody Baron…"

A thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Mom? Dad?"

"Yes, Dann-o?"

"Have you ever heard of a… ghost portal?"

Shock bloomed on his mom's face. His dad's shoulders slumped. They traded a look.

Danny turned to look at Jazz, bewildered by this reaction. She looked equally confused.

"We, ah, tried to build one, once," Jack said, then looked at Maddie. Then he brightened. "Maybe we could try it again!"

"What?" Danny was confused. That wasn't what he had intended. "What?"

"You're right, Jack!" The downcast look had disappeared from Mom's face too, and she smiled brilliantly at Jack. "It would be our greatest invention! All the research possibilities! And we'll do it right this time – fix all of our mistakes."

Danny felt sick.

(Glowing, green, violent tendrils snaking from its core…)

(A sense of wrongness.)

He looked at Jazz.

She mouthed, "Tell them."

He looked away, down at the dinner table, at the remnants of all the green goop he had just eaten.

Santa had been better than this.

Humanity

The remainder of the break had whizzed by, like a comet blazing through the sky – ephemeral, but brilliantly wild.

He had loved being back with his family, in the craziness and the madness. There was a thrill to it that he hadn't recognized before he had been gone from it for so long – now that he could see his home with fresh eyes, he could appreciate it more for what it was.

(His parent's lingering excitement for the ghost portal idea, however, worried him.)

He visited Hermione and Neville over the break too, and it had been fun. Neville's gran was just as terrifying as he had imagined.

Danny had also received some well-wishing from his old friend back in Amity, Tucker. With the marvel of technology that is a computer (a marvel Hogwarts sorely lacked, unfortunately), he was able to briefly get in contact with him and play some Doomed. He sucked at it; he had gotten rusty over the months. Tucker had him beat, and they laughed over how badly Danny had been trounced, though Danny resolved to do better next time. He missed his friend.

Soon, though, it was time to go back to Hogwarts.

He made promises to write back more often – he had sent so few letters last semester! Like the last day at Hogwarts, the last day at the London house was filled with a whirlwind of packing and goodbye's.

Jazz warned him to "be careful, and take care of yourself." She also gave him a stern glare for having avoided telling Mom about the ghost. Danny had developed a clever strategy of telling jokes to distract both Jazz and Mom at the most opportune times. Still, his sister's eyes had softened and she had given him a fond ruffle on the head before bidding him good night.

Mom told him she loved him.

Dad told him to not let any of those pesky ghosts bother him, and gave him a crushing hug that Danny thought he would never escape from.

It had been nice, though. It was really nice to be home again, for these two weeks.

And as Danny lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and its patterned glowing stars, he found himself smiling. The break was over now, and even though he knew he would miss his family, he couldn't help but feel happy.

He was going back to Hogwarts.

Despite everything, he wanted to go back. There was so much life, and vividness. Jazz had been right – he was willing to risk his safety for that sense of wonder, for adventure, for being there with his friends. He resolved to himself that next semester would be better than the last, and that he wouldn't get mixed up in anything too dangerous, and that he would have tons of fun with his friends at Hogwarts.

Closing his eyes, determined to imprint that sweet image into reality starting the following morning, he drifted off to sleep.

Humanity

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