Note: I'm a little shocked at how many people actually enjoyed reading this! Believe it or not, I do read through the reviews and take them to heart. So if you've left one—or even if you've stopped by to favorite/alert/read—I'd like to thank you personally :). It means a lot!

This came out pretty fast (well, 'fast' for me at least!), but that's mostly due to the fact that I typed it most of it up over break, and finished the rest of it on a snow day. The next installment may take some time, but here's a lengthy chapter that, hopefully, will compensate! I'm aiming to have one chapter a month, so we'll see how that goes.

In advance: I'm sorry for the lame beginning. As much as I wish I could just jump to the juicy parts, I need to explain everything that happens in-between. Again, none of this is edited (Beta reader, where art thou?).

Chapter 2: Stranger

Harry wasn't in a good mood when he woke up.

Not that he had been in a good mood at all in the past couple of months, being holed up at the Dursleys without any sort of contact from his friends; but he figured being at Hogwarts would change things.

And, as usual, he was wrong.

For one thing, after the Welcome-Back feast the night prior, his best friends—the only people in the school who didn't think he was some nut job looking for attention—ditched him. Because of their new "prefect" duties, which he was still questioning how Ron had earned in the first place, they had to escort the first years, leaving Harry to awkwardly wander the halls alone.

Then, by the time Ron and Hermione had caught up with him, he had entered the common room only to have the people who had grown up with him in the past few years stare at him in disgust and horror.

Which then led into a fight with Dean and Seamus, his supposed "friends" who doubled as roommates.

Needless to say, Harry's fifth year had taken off to a bad start.

And go figure he would wake up late—late enough that all his roommates, save Ron, were already gone.

Unless they intentionally left early so they wouldn't have to talk to me, thought Harry bitterly.

Sighing, he forced himself up, knowing that self-pity would get him nowhere. Judging by the harsh, blinding sunlight that streamed through the window, it must have been well past 7, probably closer to 8 AM. Meaning that he had under an hour to get ready, eat breakfast, and make it on time to class.

He shoved his covers on the floor, standing up into a stretch. Upon hearing the crack in his muscles, he dressed up in the Hogwarts uniform, not even bothering to deal with the mop of black hair on his head. While pulling his robes over his uniform, he pondered about the new staffing additions, particularly one Dolores Umbridge. Hermione had mentioned at the feast last night that, whatever reason Umbridge was here for, it meant the Ministry was getting involved.

Harry personally held no opinion on what it meant, but her presence made him uncomfortable all the same. There was just something about her smile, her manicured nails, her proper, fancy outfits, and nicely-kept hair that felt off. While she was always smiling, the smile itself felt too plastic, as if a toymaker had gotten a paintbrush and smeared it on manually. Her overall appearance gave Harry the impression that he was dealing with a toad—an ugly, poisonous, evil toad.

And if the disconsolate expressions of the students last night were anything to go by, he wasn't the only one.

"Ron," Harry called, beginning to gather his books. "Ron, wake up, first day of classes, mate."

As expected, he received a loud snore in response.

Smirking, Harry said loudly, "I suppose that means you won't be joining me for breakfast, then?"

The reaction was instantaneous: Ron shot out of bed like a rocket, suddenly rushing around the room to get dressed and assort his book supplies.

"Harry, why didn't you wake me up sooner?!" he exclaimed in annoyance, stuffing shoes hurriedly on his feet.

Waiting by the door, a smug look on his face, the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. He settled on watching Ron run like a madman through the room, throwing random shenanigans all over the floor and muttering curses every now and then. It seemed like hours when Ron finally finished, robes on and supplies in hand.

Bounding up to Harry, he burst, "Well, what are you standing there for? Are we getting food or not?"

Without waiting for an answer, he shoved past Harry and sped towards the direction of the Great Hall. Unable to help it, Harry let loose a large grin. It comforted him a little to know that, whereas the rest of Hogwarts would have issues with him because of his so-called "lies", the only issue Ron would ever have with him would be waking up late and missing out on breakfast.

He followed after his best friend, passing by moving staircases and gossiping classmates, in a struggle to keep up. It was quite ironic how the one who could barely keep up with Hagrid shuffling around could suddenly develop an intense speed that rivaled a centaur.

After practically sprinting the whole way there, the duo arrived at Great Hall. Scouting out the Gryffindor table they spotted Hermione, who waved them over enthusiastically. Sitting with her were Neville, Ginny, and the Weasley twins, all of whom were almost done with breakfast.

"Blimey," Ron complained as they reached the table, "Almost didn't wake up this morning, it was so early."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're lucky McGonagall didn't hand out time tables yet."

"Never mind that," Ron dismissed, plopping himself on a bench and grabbing the scrambled eggs that materialized from thin air, "I'm lucky the food's not gone yet!"

His siblings snickered at the response, while Hermione simply sighed.

"Did you guys hear about the new professor?" Fred (or George?) inquired, as Harry seated himself next to Ron and took some eggs as well.

"People are sayin' all of the ghosts love him…"

"…Because if they don't he'll beat the bloody pulp out of them…"

"…Since apparently he's the only one who can touch ghosts—"

"Oi!" Ginny exclaimed, cutting the twins off. "Knocker off! You know that's a load of shite."

But Ron was already suckered into the tale, interested enough to ignore his food for the moment. Eyes round with wonder, he asked, "You don't say?"

"Oh yeah! You didn't hear?" one started.

The other continued, "His course is called Ghost Hunting. Obviously the ghosts are suckering up so he doesn't exorcise them."

"He's an exorcist?"

Hermione and Harry shared an amused look before shaking their heads simultaneously.

"Whatever happens," said one of the twins, "You lot better tell us every grimy detail of his class!"

Ron blinked in confusion. "Wait, you two aren't taking it?"

They laughed in sync with one another, waving a flippant hand at Ron's question. "As if we're going to take on class on hunting ghosts," they chorused, erupting into laughter afterwards. Trademark of his Weasley heritage, Ron's ears flamed up.

"Really, what's the point of ghost hunting when…"

"…Ghosts aren't a threat to begin with?"

"Look at Peeves," Ginny interjected, "he's plenty enough of a threat! Did you see what he did to that poor first-year last term?"

Hermione pointed out, "Granted that's true, Peeves is also a poltergeist—a completely separate class from just normal ghosts."

"Do you think Professor Fenton will make us hunt poltergeists then?" asked Neville, who appeared to be deep in thought. "It would make sense, wouldn't it?"

The group contemplated that, each of them growing quiet. Neville brought up a good question; but even then, would Dumbledore really allow someone to hunt ghosts, especially when Hogwarts castle was full of them?

"Well, you know what?" Harry said, effectively breaking the silence, "I guess we'll just have to find out."

After watching the rebirth of Voldemort, along with Cedric Diggory's death, and now having to tolerate some creepy pink toad lady who most likely had it out for him, Harry already had enough on his mind to worry about. He didn't need the addition of some bonkers American who hunted something as ludicrous as ghosts.

There were nods of agreement all around—with the exception of Hermione, who still looked troubled over something. Harry didn't have time to mull over her odd behavior when he noticed McGonagall with a stack of papers heading towards the table

He couldn't tell if he should have felt excited or nervous. Given he had Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology to look forward to, he wasn't sure how he felt about anything else. Defense Against the Dark Arts with Umbridge? A foreboding feeling welled up in his stomach about that combination, a feeling worse than heading to Potions with Snape.

Not to mention Trelawney's weekly death predictions in Divination; last year was painful enough, this year was bound to be torturous. There were already thousands of students who thought he was nuts, no doubt Trelawney would make it worse.

"To my lions," McGonagall called out amongst the chatter at the Gryffindor table, "your time tables. Please report to your classes immediately upon receiving them. No time to waste."

Quickly and efficiently, she distributed them among the Gryffindors, stopping lastly at the 'Golden Trio'. She gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione a stern look before deflating slightly and asking, "Is there any point in telling you three to stay out of trouble?"

"Probably not," Ron shrugged, grabbing his schedule out of her outstretched hand. Hermione sent him a death glare.

To compensate for Ron's rudeness, she said politely to McGonagall, "We'll try to."

Handing the last two papers to Harry and Hermione, their Head of House muttered, "For some reason, that does not sound promising." With that last remark, she walked away, leaving the three friends to share a knowing smirk.

"Hey, we don't find trouble. Trouble finds us," Harry defended, to which Ron scoffed and slugged him in the shoulder.

"Yeah right, mate. Trouble doesn't find us; trouble finds you. Me and Hermione just get caught in the crossfire."

Though Hermione didn't say anything, she opted for a smile, neither confirming nor denying Ron's statement.

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured to their time tables. "Well, shall we get on with it?"

Immediately, the three tore open their envelopes and whipped their schedules out to look over it with anxious eyes. They let out collective gasp when they took note of what they had first.

Ron moaned, "Great, Ghost Hunting first hour, and it's with Slytherin? We're doomed."

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Hermione mentioned wryly, "We could have had Potions, if that's better to your liking."

"Or History of Magic," Harry quipped, though he himself felt a little deflated. First class of the year and it's about learning how to "hunt a ghost" (whatever that meant) with a bunch of snakes?

With a groan, Ron grumbled, "Might as well get it over with as early as possible, right?"

"Where is it again?" Hermione wondered, checking over the list to find the location. "Oh," she said, "Underneath the Astronomy tower."

Harry nodded at first, though after a moment of contemplation, suddenly realized something.

"Wait, underneath the Astronomy tower?" Harry asked, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you sure that's right?"

"Apparently so," Ron responded, having checked his own time table for reassurance. He pointed it out to Harry, nodding his head. "Right there, mate."

Feeling more than slightly confused, Harry slowly shook his head. As far as he knew, the Astronomy was the Astronomy tower. That was it. No underneath, beside, or above.

Hermione offered, "Perhaps it was added after Dumbledore hired him?"

With no better explanation, Harry shrugged and stood up from his seat. Ron and Hermione followed his lead, the three of them taking off in the direction of the Astronomy tower.

Soon enough, they reached the entranceway to their destination. Curiously, however, there was a paper arrow taped on the door, pointing to a staircase built into the floor, leading to where Harry assumed was "underneath" the tower. There were faint voices echoing from within—the rest of the class must have been down there already.

"Is it me, or are you guys getting the creeps from that conveniently-place staircase?"

Smacking Ron upside the head, Hermione scowled, "Honestly, Ronald." Taking the lead, she assertively strolled down the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron to stumble hurriedly behind her. Harry heard Ron complain about something that sounded like 'girls on their period' but wisely did not comment.

Wherever they were headed, it was dark—so much so that they almost couldn't see the steps they were descending. Luckily, someone had placed torches on the sides of the stair walls to illuminate the steep, metal passage. If it wasn't so eerily quiet, Harry would have questioned the use of a metal staircase, as opposed to the typical wood or stone material the rest of the castle was composed of.

The further down they went, the less their footsteps echoed and the more they could hear other voices. Eventually, they reached the bottom of the staircase, where they met the rest of their Gryffindor classmates, in addition to the Slytherins reclusively standing off to the side. Neville, amongst the crowd, bounded over to them once noticing their presence.

"Phew, I thought for sure we were late," Ron said in relief, though the look on Neville's face was anything but.

"Actually," he commented, a worried frown in place, "You are late. The professor hasn't shown up yet."

"Impossible," Harry deadpanned, "There's barely anyone in the halls. No way would a professor be running this late."

Neville pointed to a large, strange-looking door behind him. "See for yourself."

Shoving the students out of the way—which wasn't that difficult considering they were voluntarily moving away from him—Harry advanced to the front of the group, giving a once-over to a giant, metal contraption that he assumed led to their classroom. It was a door, that was for sure, but it wasn't like any door he had ever seen in Hogwarts, much less anywhere. Ingrained in the metal surface were emerald-green lines crossing each other in an odd, grid-like pattern. Upon closer inspection, the light behind the lines almost appeared as if they were moving—as if they were…alive.

Behind him, Harry heard Ron murmur in awe, "Merlin's beard…"

The group of students had quieted down, as if waiting for Harry to make some sort of conclusion about the peculiar door before them. However, despite their assumptions, he had no clue what to make of it, other than the deduction that it was some upscale technology.

But then, that didn't make sense. Technology wouldn't—couldn't work in Hogwarts. Cell phones, electricity, gadgets…Harry had tried numerous times to bring a couple of trinkets during his first year, only to be forced to throw them away in disappointment.

"Hermione," he beckoned, a curious tone in his voice, "How much do you know about muggle technology?"

Ignoring the sudden bout of whispers, he turned his head to watch Hermione scrutinize the door, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

"Though I've never seen anything like this up close, I must say, it looks…familiar….somehow," she trailed off, her voice taking on a trance-like quality to it. Her eyes roamed over it again before they widened in surprise. "Wait—look at that, there!"

Hermione had pointed to a rectangular device set in the wall, one that Harry recognized from practically every Scy-fy movie he had ever watched.

"I think it's a…handprint scanner?"

A snort brought him out of his musings. "Of course Pothead and Mudblood would know about the muggle piece of crap on the wall."

Harry fought with himself not to turn around and hex Malfoy right there on the spot. Detention wasn't that enticing, but seeing Malfoy turn into a bouncing ferret, however…

"Back off, Malfoy," Ron scowled from beside Harry, his face turning a darker shade of red than his hair. Malfoy sneered, giving him a condescending once-over.

"Oh, you're still Potter's friend, are you? I'm surprised you haven't abandoned him yet…then again, you are a Weasley, so the lack of brains is expected."

Before Ron could sputter out an indigenous remark, Draco turned his attention to the device. "Fantastic, not only is loony Dumbledore adding some pointless Ghost Hunting class, but now he's bringing muggle technology inside the castle? Just wait until my father hears about this…"

In a tone that just lured a challenge, Hermione commented, "And I suppose you know how to work it?"

Draco straightened up with a little 'huff', snobbishly raising his nose upwards to peer at the handprint detector with a glare.

"As if muggle technology can compete with magic," he snorted, "Just watch and learn."

Everyone stood back, watching in curiosity as Draco composed himself and dramatically pulled out his wand. The temptation to punch the git in the face was strong, but Harry held back in favor of watching Draco make a fool of himself.

The Slytherin aimed his wand upwards. He did a sort of hair flip, afterwards shaking his body a little, as if preparing himself. Upon the subsequent, anticipating silence of the rest of the young wizards, Draco called out confidently, "Allohamora!"

A bright red light shot from the tip of his wand into the scanner. Everyone observed the display with fascination, waiting expectantly for the door to open. Draco himself had a giant sneer on his face, turning around to face Harry. "You see? Simple."

However, instead of opening, the scanner redirected the magic back at Draco. The same bolt of red light hit him square in the face and caused him to tumble in reverse, landing on his back.

Ron snickered. "Wow, Malfoy, you did a number on that thing, let me tell you."

Draco glowered at Ron with all the force and sophisticated grace he could muster. "That should have worked."

"Should have, but it didn't."

That sentence had been spoken by someone new: a certain someone with an American accent.

Eyes widening in disbelief, Harry swiveled around—coming face-to-face with a slyly-grinning Professor Fenton.

Appearing very amused, the American continued, "You'll find that I use a sort of…special kind of technology. One that isn't affected by magic."

The professor stepped around Harry and on-the-floor Draco to approach the device. Everyone held their breath, watching with wide, curious eyes. He raised his hand towards the scanner. After placing it on the pad, a glowing line passed down over the screen, making a strange whizzing noise.

Nothing happened at first. The students were confused, a couple of them sharing unsure glances with their friends. Harry had shot a pointed look to Hermione, to which she shrugged in response.

But then, the entire door came to life—parts of the metal un-attaching themselves from the door to form a variety of unidentifiable tools and weapons. Most of them had transformed into some sort of claw, all of which had taken to prodding the professor's body: his clothes, his skin, his ears, everywhere. Others shifted into what could only be a type of laser, a red, scanning beam slowly traveling over his eyes, hair, and entire body.

By the time the security-door-machine-thing (for Harry couldn't place a name to it) was finished, every underage wizard had dumbstruck expressions on their faces.

Clearing his throat, the professor turned around. A mischievous glint in his eye, he remarked, "You guys can go inside now."

No sooner had he made the suggestion that the door had rearranged itself, split in half, and slid into the wall. Completely unfazed, the professor waltzed casually into the classroom, causing the unmoving students to become animated again and trail hastily after him.

On their way inside, Ron whispered to Harry, "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I think that's about the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life. Stranger than Dumbledore, even."

Despite having witnessed many quirky and eccentric aspects of the wizarding world, Harry found himself nodding his head in agreement.

If there's one thing I've discovered while writing this, it's that I really, really, really do not enjoy writing Harry Potter.

I love reading Harry Potter, and the overall movie/book series in general, but writing it is a completely different experience. Please point out any mistakes you might notice. It's difficult writing the setting and point of view of a subject you're not that comfortable with. Having not read the book in ages, I have no recollection of the exact events that occurred, and am going solely off of anything I can recall from the movies. Really, Danny Phantom is more my field of expertise; the only motivation for me to finish this is for sake of writing Professor Danny, nothing more.

Frankly, writing in Harry's perspective is frustrating. If I could, I would choose to write in Danny's point-of-view over Harry's any day. *sighs* Unfortunately, though, this story is better off through the eyes of Harry. Danny already knows everything—all the twists and turns that he's going to cause Hogwarts to go through…to write in his POV would ruin all the mystery and excitement! If I do write in his perspective, it'll probably be in later chapters.

ANSWERS TO SOME OF YOUR QUESTIONS: A lot of reviewers made inquiries about Danny's current background, regarding topics like Sam and Danny's relationship, Danny's age/appearance, etc. You'll find out soon enough, though that information won't necessarily be important to the plot. I really only made it AU so that this story could work and make sense. It would have been really weird to have a fourteen-year-old Danny Fenton teaching a Hogwarts class, especially with everyone knowing his secret.

Until next time~

-Amanda