A/N: I hope you can see why, after reading this chapter, I decided to go the longer route of "Timeline 1" versus falling into the insanity of "Timeline Two" for the main story. "Timeline Two" is going to come back, but I think it is in "One" that I can tackle the harder themes, the more real themes. Warning for that, also. There is going to be a definite tone shift from here in.

In any case – finally – I introduce you to…

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Growing Up
Book Two: Monsters

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Chapter One
The In-Between

What am I? Danny wondered, staring at his hands. They were the same as they ever were, soft, uncalloused, filled with minute swirling patterns, the imprint of his time in the womb.

He was sitting on the staircase that connected the second floor of Hogwarts – where the DADA classroom was – to the fourth floor of Hogwarts – where the Gryffindor common room was. The staircase had already drifted to the fourth floor and back at least ten times. The very first time the staircase had met the four floor landing Danny had decided that he wasn't quite ready yet to greet the cheery warmth of the common room, and so he had instead stepped down to the middle of the staircase and settled himself into this limbo, to be in motion but not in motion, to be in this place between places. An in-between place, like the state he found himself perpetually stuck in.

In between life and death. In between magic and science. In between…

(A flash of images, of friendship, cheery hearths, and of cold, dark stone, lonely hallways. He was unable to put it into words.)

He sighed, and stared at his hands.

He thought, if he looked at them long enough, they would begin to disappear. His hands would turn gruesomely invisible, so that, where invisibility met visibility, he would be able to see, in vivid detail, parts of his bone and muscle that he had never had any interest in seeing. This had happened enough now, two weeks after having stepped into his parents' ghost portal, that the sight no longer sickened him.

How strange it was, that one could become used to such sights. How one could almost forget how different, how changed they had become. How normalcy could sneak up on you in the strangest of circumstances, wrap your eyes with such a nice, comforting blindfold, so that you could look around at all kinds of marvels and look again away nonchalantly, as if they were but the most mundane of details, the most trivial of facts of this universe we live in.

His hands did not turn invisible as he stared, and this, too, he accepted as part of normalcy. After all, in two weeks, his body had adapted to his ghostly powers enough that they had stopped springing out erratically. It was to be expected.

Clack. Softly, the stone staircase pressed into the landing of the second floor. Danny waited. A minute later, there was a soft tug, and again, the staircase floated across the empty space of the castle hall. He let his gaze pass over the marble rail, so that he was staring now at the many portraits that lined the walls. They were chattering amongst themselves, some gesturing eagerly, some reclining under painted trees and painted sunshine, and there, there was Sir Codagan playing knight, bothering everyone whose portrait he stumbled into.

Danny smiled despite himself. He liked the knight. Bumbling, enthusiastic, somehow both eager to please while also so arrogantly pronouncing his nonsensical knightly code.

Danny had often wondered if he too was like Sir Codagan, preaching foolishly his own beliefs to his friends, good intentions abound, before he realized – not for the first time – that he had not, in fact, preached much to anyone about anything since coming to Hogwarts.

It had been different, before, in Amity Park. Before Dash took things too far and everything changed, and they had had to move away.

Danny had believed in good then, and he had always told anybody willing to listen about his most admired heroes: the comic book superheroes who fought and fought for the good of others in bombastically-colored pages, and the astronauts who dared to chase their dreams and risked their lives in pursuit of the stars.

It was hard to believe in good now, though, when someone he had once hoped to be friends with had beaten him blue and black, when the words of a girl he had admired had shredded his heart like it was nothing but paper, when upon entering a wonderful, magical world of wands, witches and wizards, and brooms... he had continuously, frustratingly failed academically, been possessed by a ghost, been mentally violated on several occasions, and finally, kidnapped under the Imperius curse.

He thought back to Quirrell then. Professor Quirrell.

Quirrell had been the one to kidnap him.

Quirrell had allowed, no, encouraged the ghost to possess him.

Quirrell had also tampered with his mind, making him forget a month of his life – granted, the most terrible month of his life – and tried to then recruit him to the side of Britain's worst Dark Lord.

Yet, Danny still could not bring himself to hate him. It sounded ridiculous, after listing the man's crimes in his head, but it was true.

Ridiculous, he thought again, shaking his head.

He could not forget the man's passion though, as he spoke to Danny about power. The plea in his eyes. 'This is for your own good…' he had said. Then, the smoldering anger burning in the professor's eyes. 'They treated you as if you were nothing, because you were different.'

That last statement bothered Danny more than he'd like to admit. The thought seemed to be stuck in his head, bouncing around the corners of his mind incessantly, making his ears ring painfully and his chest tighten whenever an echo of it hit a little too close to home. Sometimes he'd see an echo of an expression on Hermione's face, on Neville's face, on Harry's face, and suddenly he knew that their pity was also disgust, of repulsion, that he was strange and different and all they were doing was pretending, just like how everyone had pretended at Amity Park after everyone knew that Dash had hit him and hit him hard. They would ask, 'why him?' then look at him, and know, just as Dash had known, just as Paulina had known.

There was just something different about him, Danny thought, closing his eyes, feeling the painful feeling swell up in his chest again. Something freaky.

Clack. The staircase once again reached the second floor.

He snapped his eyes open. He couldn't stay here any longer. He had to move.

He leapt to his feet, and dashed up the stairs, just before the staircase began pulling away with a tug, to resume its inevitable journey back to the second floor. He stumbled as he leapt the gap, because he hadn't expected the staircase to start moving so soon, though he supposed he should have known it, from having sat there for so long.

He was now on the fourth floor landing. He looked around, and not knowing what else to do, began walking to the common room.

Growing Up

"Danny!" Seamus grinned, face peeking out from around the giant mass of the armchair. Dean was there too, and Neville. It was an ambush. "My dear friend. Welcome," he said grandiously, "back to the Gryffindor common room."

Danny looked pleadingly, questioningly, at Neville, but his friend just shrugged, looking away, embarrassed.

That wasn't a good sign.

"We came," Seamus said, propping his chin onto his hands, which were linked together and in turn propped onto the back of the armchair, "to ensure your safety and wellbeing after being so crudely kept behind by our," he cocked his head to the side, as if considering something, "dearly beloved, unfortunately-cursed," he paused again, "new DADA professor. What did Lupin want with you?"

Danny stared at Seamus, saw the seriousness in his face, looked at Dean, saw a similar gravity etched there, looked at Neville, who had turned to look back at Danny with a muted, but fierce look in his eyes, and realized that he was being smothered.

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at it though. Much less could he have stopped the light, buoyant feeling that arose in his chest at the realization.

Maybe I'm not such a freak after all, he thought.

Then, they are too good for me.

His smile died down.

"It was nothing," he said. "Remus just… Professor Lupin was just checking up on me. Like you guys are now."

It was a lie. A half-truth.

Professor Lupin was indeed checking up on him, but not only out of concern. As a werewolf, Lupin had the unique ability of sensing Dark magic, and, for some reason, ectoplasm was considered highly Dark. As of two weeks ago, Danny registered as a Dark being to Remus Lupin's senses.

The Professor had actually drawn his wand on him, Danny remembered wearily, as soon as the other students had left the classroom. Remus hadn't believed it was him. He had thought Danny was possessed again.

It had taken a lot to convince Remus that he was not possessed. That he was fine. That he was himself. He had told the man that it was just the extra exposure to ectoplasm he got from being home, his parents being ghost hunters.

Remus clearly hadn't believed that, but he had let Danny go soon afterwards.

After which, Danny had sat on the stairs in the middle of Hogwarts and stared at his hands, wondering if they would turn invisible.

"I'm fine, really," he said, hearing their silence, unable to meet their eyes anymore. He suddenly felt an unbearable pressure. He just knew he they were all staring at him.

"I'm going to go up to the dorm," he murmured, staring fixedly at the floor, before he stalked off, feeling stiff under the weight of perceived observation. Once he was out of sight, he practically flew up the stairs, slamming the door closed behind him as he flung himself into the boys' second year dorms.

He was met with Ron and Harry's startled gazes. They were both lying stomach-down on Ron's bed, playing Wizard's chess. The checkered board was set between them and their feet hung loosely off the sides of the bed. They would have looked rather comfortable, if it weren't for the startled expressions they wore on account of Danny's sudden entrance.

"Ho, Danny," Ron finally said after a pause.

"Ho, Ron, Harry," he replied after another pause. Then, a thought occurred to him and he managed to quirk his lips into a half-smile. "Are you guys hiding from Hermione in here? Is she still mad about the car?"

Ron and Harry had made the spectacle of the year by arriving at Hogwarts via flying car, instead of the normal Hogwarts express. Which, typically, they then had crashed into the school's Whomping Willow and thus earned eternal infamy amongst the Gryffindor boys. Hermione had been unduly upset when she had heard. Danny had the misfortune of being present when the news had reached her ears.

The two other boys exchanged glances, one hesitant and guilty, the other exasperated and miserable.

"Yes," Ron said, who held the latter expression. "She's still mad. Hasn't got off on our case. 'Irresponsible, negligent, don't you realize how much trouble you got in…'" He mimicked her nagging with her fingers – Danny frowned at the mime, and was about to say something about it – but then Ron let out a huge groan, then slammed his head against his blankets, so that his next words were muffled. "And the worst part is that she's right. I broke my wand, and got my da into a world of trouble. Malfoy's never going to let up on him now."

"Malfoy?" Danny asked, startled. "Draco? Or…"

"The other one," Ron confirmed, not moving from his position. "They've been conducting a ton of raids on suspected Dark artifacts in the Ministry, and Dad's sure that Malfoy's got something he's hiding. They almost got the permit to raid the Malfoy Manor, but I might've blown it. Now they might just come after my dad instead."

Tentatively, the boy lifted himself to sit on his knees and his expression was so forlorn that Danny felt his heart go out to him, despite everything.

"At least… at least we got here in one piece, yeah?" Harry weakly comforted. "I'm really sorry about your dad."

"S'alright," Ron said glumly. "We'll manage somehow. We always do."

They were all silent for a moment, respectfully.

Danny had to break it though.

"Did you… did you say that Mr. Malfoy had Dark artifacts?" he asked hesitantly.

Ron's gaze snapped up at him, and even Harry looked at him with some bewilderment.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Ron asked disbelievingly. Then he shook his head. "Should just call him Scummy Malfoy. Did you know he and Da got into a fist fight in Flourish and Blotts?"

Danny shook his head and shifted uncomfortably. Ron relented.

"Well, that's what they're all saying, at least," he said, scowling. "I wouldn't put it past them, dirty Malfoys."

"Why'd you ask?" Harry asked curiously.

Danny shifted uncomfortably again.

"Mr… Malfoy made a business deal with my parents over the summer," Danny said, frowning at the memory. His frown became deeper as he realized that meeting was also what had, definitively, caused the Portal to be borne despite his protests, and so had indirectly led to his… half-death. "I just wanted to know if… well…"

He found it hard to put into words.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, eyes wide. "Your parents are muggles, aren't they? What kind of deal did they make to make Lucius Malfoy want to deal with them?"

Danny shrugged, not really wanting to go into the details.

"Cut of profit, guaranteed funding, that sort of thing. And, uh…" He thought of the ghost portal stipulation. 'This contract is only valid if the parties Jack and Madeline Fenton agree to continue their efforts in constructing a portal to an ectoplasmic realm, per routine progress updates delivered to party Lucius Malfoy via owl…' He swallowed. "Nevermind."

"Blimey," Ron said to himself, shaking his head. "Your parents better be careful with that slimey bastard. He's got to have something up his sleeve, to be willing to deal with muggles." Seeing the look on Danny's face and misinterpreting it, he said, "No offense, Danny. That's just how they see it, the blood purist bastards."

"None taken," Danny said numbly, and for the first time, he worried about that contract for reasons other than the portal stipulation. If Lucius Malfoy was seen as a white-collar criminal in the Wizarding World, and it was such a big thing for him to be associating with muggles… then, why had he given such a large grant to FentonWorks?

It bugged him a lot, and he thought of sending an owl back home to warn his parents of it.

He stumbled to his bedside, and fished out some parchment and his quill from his trunk. He set it on his bedside table. There, he thought. I'll write it later.

Then he looked around him, and again realized he had nothing to do. Or, at least, that he had nothing to do other than tasks that rang unpleasantly of 'homework', 'writing that letter', or 'returning to the common room where Seamus, Dean, and Neville lay in ambush'. His gaze darted to Harry and Ron. They were resuming their game of wizarding chess.

"Mind if I watch?" he asked.

Harry shrugged, since Ron was already intent on the game, and gestured for him to join in. "Yeah, sure."

Monsters

"Fenton!" a voice called from behind him, as Danny was exiting the Great Hall after breakfast. He turned his head around, and was surprised to find that the speaker was Draco Malfoy.

The boy was unaccompanied by his toadies, Crabbe and Goyle, and was walking quickly towards Danny with a haughty step. His chin was held high, overly prideful, as he fell into step with Danny, who had only slowed down when the boy had called his name.

"Malfoy," he responded neutrally, unsure why the Slytherin boy was here, talking to him.

"Where are you going?" the boy demanded imperiously.

Danny's eyebrows furrowed.

Draco Malfoy was… well, a brat. Worse than a brat, really, from the stories that he'd heard Harry and Ron tell, and there was nothing in Malfoy's demeanor to contradict them. Still, Danny felt an old hope rise up in his heart as he looked at the boy, and he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"The owlery," he said, holding up two letters. "I'm sending some letters back home. Well, one is to a friend back in America." He hesitated, then decided to broach the topic. "The other is about you, actually. Well, your father. I'm sending it to my parents."

Draco almost stumbled, but caught himself in time. Danny slowed his pace.

"What about?" the other boy asked cautiously, then coughed. "I mean, of course it is about the business deal. But why send a letter to them now?"

Danny shrugged, looking away from the pale, blond boy. "I heard some rumors," he admitted, though he felt uncomfortable doing it, knowing how ardently the boy relied on his father. "And I wanted to warn them to be careful."

"I assure you," Draco said, sounding offended, "my father never renegades on a business deal. He must maintain the honor and dignity of the Malfoy name."

Danny almost felt reassured by the words, before a healthy dose of skepticism kicked his head into action. "Even if his dealings are with muggles?" he asked warily.

Draco was silent.

Danny was suddenly gladdened that he wrote the letter, after all. So it wasn't just Ron having a bone to pick with the Malfoys. It looked like, from what he could tell, there really was some prejudice against muggles in the Malfoy household. A remnant, probably, of the last Wizarding War and Voldemort's ideologies. He supposed that some people other than Voldemort had to have believed the blood purity nonsense, for an entire war to be fought over it.

"Look," Danny said. "My parents are muggles, but that doesn't make them any less smart. In fact, I bet they know a lot more about a lot of things than most wizards. Your dad seems like a smart businessman. He probably recognizes that."

He chanced a glance over, hoping he hadn't offended the other boy somehow, and to his dismay, saw that Draco looked like he had just swallowed a lemon.

"I'm sure," Draco said stiffly.

They were almost at the owelry room. Danny again wondered why Draco was talking to him, though he had to admit that it was sort of nice to talk to someone who wasn't overly concerned about his well-being for once. Even if he wasn't entirely sure what this conversation was supposed to be about.

"Look," Danny said, again, hesitantly. He decided to go the direct route. He was in Gryffindor, after all. "Draco, why are you talking to me?"

He realized that using his first name was a mistake as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it was too late to change it.

"I mean, you never talked to me last year at all," he continued, waving his hands in the air, wanting to cover his mistake and to clarify further, if the shocked expression on the boy's face was not for his American slip-up after all. "You only ever bugged Harry, Neville, and Hermione, the way I heard it. I don't mind, but I don't know very much about you, and… I can't help but feel it has something to do with," he waved his letters in the air, "this, rather than suddenly wanting to be friends with me."

Surprisingly, Draco smiled. It was not an entirely nice smile. "Well deduced," he sneered, then seemed to think better of sneering and instead pointed his nose into the air. "I do not, in fact, wish to become friends with you. Acquaintances will do."

Danny raised his eyebrows.

"Our parents, after all," the snotty boy continued, "have a business dealing. It is only proper that we as well… deal with each other."

At some point during this last exchange, the two had stopped walking. Danny stared at the other boy.

He honestly couldn't tell if the other boy was trying to mock him somehow, play big businessboy, somehow vaguely laud his own superiority by looking down at Danny through his beaky nose… or actually was trying to reach out to a member of another House, and was finding it difficult, and so was doing his best to be very tsundere about it all.

It was the last type of thinking that had always gotten Danny into the most trouble. Wondering if behind a sneering facade, there was someone softer behind it, hurting and in pain. It made him want to reach out, and help, no matter the cost to himself. It was a feeling that burned in his chest, and had been snuffed out after his beating at Amity Park. He was surprised to feel it return now.

Briefly, he remembered Quirrell's face as the man had flung that passionate, painful speech at him in the chamber. Quirrell's pain.

It was ridiculous. Ridiculous. But his heart burned again, before he remembered that the man was dead and there was nothing he could do.

His vision refocused and he realized that he was still standing afore Draco, who was looking at him impatiently.

He shook his head, trying to clear the memory. What had Draco been asking?

"Um," Danny said, feeling somewhat disoriented, as if he had just emerged from a deep slumber. "Sure, I'm fine with whatever."

The other boy narrowed his eyes, then gave a quick nod as if to say "satisfactory", then pivoted on his heel and walked away the way they came.

Danny looked around and was startled to realize that he was already at the owlery.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that conversation, but he figured whatever it was could wait. For now, he had some letters to deliver.

He just hoped he could find an owl that wouldn't be scared of him.

Perks of my new-found ghostliness, he thought wryly.

At least he had expected it this time around.

Growing Up

Tucker, read one of the letters, addressed to a suburban home in Amity Park. This is Danny writing. I hope this letter isn't too much of a shock – this is, honest, the only way I can write to you while I'm at school. It's one of those weird things I was telling you about. You can send a letter back with the same owl. Just don't tell your parents, if you can. Or anyone else, really.

Life has continued to be crazy for me. I messed up pretty bad, recently. Remember when I asked you all those questions about circuits recently? Well, I used it to mess with one of my parents' machines. And it turned out badly. Really badly. I tried to fix it and… two weeks ago, I had an accident. It was bad. It is bad. I can't tell you any more about it, but I guess all my thoughts are just spilling out and I have to write it somewhere so you are getting the brunt end of all of this.

Just so you don't worry too much, really, I am fine. I just… Well, I'll be fine. You know me. I'm always fine.

How are things in Amity Park? Did you find anyone cooler than me to hang out with? How is school?

Still your BFF,

Danny

Monsters

He still couldn't wash away the regret he felt, for not speaking to Tucker for a year. He wished he could say I had been busy, it slipped my mind you know, magic school stuff, but the truth was that he had been embarrassed and ashamed by the look of pity on Tucker's face, after Dash had beat him up and the whole school knew. He just…

But then it had felt so good, when Tucker had called over the summer, and they had started calling again. When Tucker had told him he had kept trying to call over the past year, but only his dad had ever picked up the phone. And that Tuck had actually leveled up his hacking skills to find out where his landline was located, and had been begging his parents to visit London to check on Danny at that address. It was only because his parents were skeptic at the source of Tucker's information, their worry that Danny had wanted to be left alone, and the exorbitant plane ticket costs, Tucker told him conspiratorially, that had stopped him from mounting a rescue mission across continents for his bff.

Danny had laughed and felt gladdened to hear it, though he was never sure how serious Tucker ever was. Still, it felt good to talk to his old best friend again, nearly a full year after being estranged from Amity Park.

So they had kept in contact over the summer. Playing Doom, calling over the landline, the works. By the end of it, especially after the accident, Danny had decided to keep in contact with him even throughout the school year, even if it meant skewing the rules a little bit to send a letter directly to Tucker's house via owl.

He hadn't wanted to leave his best friend in the dark again.

And Tucker was still his best friend, he realized. It just wasn't the same with the other kids in Gryffindor. Not with Hermione, not with Neville, not with Harry or Ron or Dean or Seamus. They had only ever known him… after Amity, when he was quieter, more withdrawn. And that had lasted only for two months, before he was possessed and everything only became more crazy. They didn't know the Danny that he really was. And he could never be truly comfortable around them for it.

Which was why, of course, instead of hanging out with any of them, he was now sitting in the library, thinking loudly to himself about his life and his friendships, as if it would change anything. One of his textbooks sat before him, but it was closed and had been only a paltry excuse for some alone time.

He had been thinking a lot, lately.

Maybe it had something to do with his mental break and his corresponding stay at Saint Mungos, maybe it was a natural reaction to experiencing trauma. Jazz would have known.

Either way, he was finding it more and more valuable to collect his own thoughts. To try to sort them out, and inspect them for any ghostly taint. Luckily, he hadn't noticed anything strange yet.

"Danny?" a voice whispered to his left.

He nearly jumped ten feet in the air, startled out of his thoughts. He whirled around, then – painfully – realized he was still sitting in a chair, when his knee collided with the underside of the table with the motion. A few more quick struggles later, he found himself face to face with Hermione, who immediately then set all six of her thick books onto his table.

Of course. He was in the library. He should have guessed. No place was safe.

She smiled at him, then sat down.

"Early start on Transfigurations?" she asked in a whisper, nodding to his closed textbook, bushy hair jostling with the motion.

He shook his head. "Just thinking," he replied, equally as quiet.

A pause. Hermione visibly strained to ask a question, her lips parting, her body leaned forward, and she just as visibly strained to keep it in, face scrunching.

"Just ask," he sighed. All of them were like this now.

"Where were you this summer?" she burst – though it was a very quiet outburst. They were in Madam Pince's library after all.

Danny was surprised. It wasn't a question he had been expecting.

"I tried to owl you," she rushed on, "and I got my parents to call your house too, but no one ever answered."

Danny looked away guiltily. He had gotten the letters, of course, but his parents had often been too busy in the lab over the summer to answer the phone and he and Jazz never bothered with it, usually, since Fentonworks often got so much spam and scam attempts. Unless it was Tucker's number, he never answered it.

Though, that too was an excuse. His parents had the Granger's number in their phonebook; he could have just as easily learned to recognize the number and picked up their calls too.

He sighed, and rested his forehead in his hands.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said miserably. "I just…"

Hadn't wanted to answer. Had wanted to pretend that nothing existed. That he didn't exist. That the portal wasn't being built, that the Wizarding World wasn't real, that ghosts weren't real either, and that maybe, even, his first year at Hogwarts had never really happened.

Was that a good enough reason?

"I was really worried," Hermione whispered harshly, voice warbling a little. "I thought… I really thought something might be wrong. That…"

No, it wasn't a good enough reason.

"I tried to ask Neville too, and some of the other boys," she continued. "But they also hadn't heard anything. Danny, where were you?"

But it was all he had.

"At home," he said dully, forehead still cradled in his hands, eyes fixed to the grain of the table. "I'm sorry."

It was all he could say. It was the truth. In this moment, he hated himself for it.

There was a very long silence, and for every second of it, Danny wished he could wither up and die.

Goddamn it.

This was how it always was, ever since they had moved from Amity Park. One moment fine. The next moment tumulting into an abyss of darkness, fear, shame, despair – powerful emotions that threatened to engulf him in their deep blackness. And the next again, fine. Maybe even happy. Then again. The cycle repeated, incessantly, sometimes better, sometimes worse.

"I understand," Hermione said, and Danny looked up, startled, seeing a steadiness in her eyes, rather than the pain he had been expected to see.

She took a deep breath.

"I understand," she repeated. "It's okay. Just… let me know if I can help." She gave him a quick, weak smile, then stood up and gathered her six books into her arms. She tottered a bit to the side, then steadied, like a pendulum eventually finding its center. She paused. Then she set the books down again. "If it were me," she said, finally, still whispering, "I would want to find a distraction."

"A distraction?" Danny asked.

She nodded, then looked down at her books. "When I was in primary school… well, really until I came to Hogwarts, and the other kids they… called me names and were mean, I read. I thought, and dreamed about distant skies and different places." Hermione smiled. "I learned so much, and it was fascinating. The more I knew, the smaller they seemed. The less important my struggles seemed. Smaller."

"But then you come crashing back to earth," Danny said, despite himself. "No matter how long you stare up at the stars."

She looked at him, a long drawn-out look, and he met her gaze. Suddenly, he saw himself reflected there, in those eyes.

They experienced a mutual understanding then: what the stars were to Danny, books were to Hermione. They were one and the same, this page of their lives, just set under different guises.

The moment passed, but it was a moment that Danny would remember for a long time.

"I should go," Hermione said suddenly, absently, now picking up her books without a quiver, somehow more sure-footed now that her thoughts were elsewhere. "I need to think about something. I'll see you later, Danny."

"See you, Hermione."

He stared after her as she left the library, thin frame encumbered by the weight of thick knowledge, and realized he had been lucky to have met her in Madam Malkin's so long ago.

Maybe he did have a real friend in Hogwarts after all.

Someone who could understand.

He desperately wanted that. A friend who understood him. Suddenly, he needed it like nothing else. Like a starving man in a desert given a drop of water, he felt his need, his desperation, flare to life. He found himself in search of a puddle, if it would sustain him.

Growing Up

The next day, he sat with Neville, Dean, and Seamus in the common room. He waved off their concerns, pretending as if nothing had changed when he had been kidnapped and later been admitted to Saint Mungo's mental ward.

Slowly they were able to settle into a more comfortable equilibrium. Every once in a while, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would come down to join them.

The beginning of the year passed quickly after that. It was a flurry of homework, spells, and laughter in the Gryffindor dorms. The other boys soon began nettling Danny like normal, and the serious spell that had been cast over them seemed to lessen. Danny could almost forget about his new-found ghost powers; the more magic he practiced and the more time went on, the less they seemed to act up. Things were good, things were normal, things were always as they were meant to be.

That was, until Halloween, when Filch's cat was found petrified, and, on the wall above poor Norris was scrawled in bright, red blood:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Danny had to stand on his tiptoes and crane his neck to see over the heads of all the other students. There it was. The writing on the wall.

A sinking feeling lodged itself into his gut.

Normalcy, as it turned out, was only ever an illusion.

Danny supposed it had been too much to hope for.