Quick note: So far, this has been my favorite chapter to write.
Have fun!
*A special thanks to Laura (Lectori Salutem) for beta-ing, as always. You da bestest :). *
Chapter 5: Gleam
At this point in his life, Harry was fairly certain the universe was mocking him. There was something ridiculous every day: crazy dark wizards who wanted to kill him, an entire Ministry who thought he lost his sanity, dementors who wanted to suck his soul…in his world, normal days were hard to come by, if they existed at all.
Now he could add a spontaneous tornado of flying boxes to the ever-growing list.
"I AM THE BOX GHOST! FEAR THE WRATH OF MY BOXES OF TERROR!"
Oh, and a glowing tangible ghost in overalls that wanted to doom his Defense Against the Dark Arts class with said spontaneous tornado of flying boxes. That was definitely going on the list too.
No one was entirely sure how it had happened. One moment they were quietly reading Umbridge's stupid classroom assignment—the next, Neville pointed out a floating box above her head. From there, everything continued spiraling downward…
Contributing to the chaos were Umbridge's pathetic attempts in stopping the so-called "Box Ghost". She had first accused one of the students of causing this whole mess, threatening to snap wands and expel whoever was responsible. For some reason or another, she could not comprehend the fact that the Box Ghost was…well…a ghost.
As far as she was concerned, it was some sort of prank being pulled by the students. Which of course was totally impossible, even for the Weasley twins. Pulling pranks and selling various candies and devices for a joke shop was one thing. Conjuring up a spirit and attacking the students with boxes, however, was something of a completely different sort.
But then, by ignoring the Box Ghost and placing all of her attention on the students, she angered the ghost even further. Which, in three seconds flat, led to a giant tornado of spinning boxes and students cowering underneath their desks.
Due to the high velocity of the wind currents blowing in circles throughout the classroom, the doors were tightly closed—not that the students could make their way over there anyway. What Danny had asked for earlier—a "glowing pudgy blue man"—was in the middle of the room floating right near the ceiling.
It was creepy, to say the least. As much as Harry couldn't take it seriously, there was a foreboding feeling in his stomach just looking at its eyes. They were a dark, eerie crimson—glowing like freshly spilt blood. The thing, ghost, whatever-it-was, had blue-colored skin fully covered in warts and was dressed in a warehouse worker's outfit. Unlike the ghosts at Hogwarts, who always exhibited courtesy and friendliness, this thing looked maniacal and definitely less than sane.
Harry had found it fascinating at first that a ghost could be tangible and non-translucent. Yet, upon realizing this thing was malicious in nature and wanted to attack them with (he snickered inwardly) boxes, the fascination quickly dwindled away, leaving a large amount of room for fear to settle.
With one large sweep of its hand, the boxes under its control went underneath the desks and slammed into a couple of Slytherins, knocking them unconscious. Screaming in rage, Professor Umbridge bellowed out curse-after-curse, jets of green and red light aimed straight for the ghost.
Her efforts were futile though; each curse was either blocked by a conjured-up green shield or phased through. Apparently, not only could this creature become tangible—it could choose to become intangible as well.
Hiding underneath his desk with Ron and Hermione, Harry's mind raced with options. As nice and safe as it was taking refuge underneath his desk—it was the coward's way out, and nothing would get done. Umbridge obviously had no control over the situation and considering they had been here for a while, no one else would come to help them either.
Then again, taking action was a fruitless effort. He had no experience with these kinds of creatures, and if an enraged Umbridge had no effect whatsoever on the Box Ghost, how much more progress could Harry possibly make?
"Guys," he called out amid the roaring of the wind, "any suggestions?"
"Call Ghostbusters?" Hermione shot back.
"Call the crazy, completely mental American who supposedly deals with this crap?" Ron added.
Ron's idea wasn't so much of a bad one, but they had no way of contacting Danny, nor anyone else. The door was tightly sealed and he was sure that if the ghost saw anyone attempt to escape he would attack them next.
Sure enough, as Malfoy and his two goons bolted from their hiding spot and sprinted desperately to the exit, the Box Ghost noticed immediately. He shouted, "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO ESCAPE THE WRATH OF THE BOOOOOOOOOX GHOST!"
Following his shout, he moved a blue-skinned hand glowing with green energy—the movement somehow causing the tornado of boxes to stop and target Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Glowing with green light, the boxes swooped and hit them straight in the chest. Harry could even hear the 'oof' sound coming from their mouths when the air got knocked out of them.
A couple more endeavors by the boxes at the trio and they were quickly knocked out, limbs sprawled awkwardly around their bodies.
Admittedly, at the sight of his tormentors getting the bloody pulp beat out of them, Harry chuckled in light of the situation and momentarily enjoyed the box ghost's presence.
Until the Box Ghost started aiming boxes at his hiding spot.
"Dammit!" he cursed, having just narrowly avoided an incoming ghostly box. Luckily, Ron and Hermione mimicked his movements, effectively dodging the boxes as well.
He rummaged for something, anything, that could possibly help the situation. For crying out loud, he was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! Hell, he learned how to produce a Patronus in his third-year and warded off a giant army of dementors! By himself!
Wait. Harry mentally paused. That's it.
He desperately clung to some of his happiest memories, shoving all the unfortunate events he had experienced in the furthest back corner of his mind. Closing his eyes, he thought of the feeling of winning a Quidditch match; the moment he saved Ron from the task at the TriWizard Tournament; the annual Christmas gift from Molly Weasley, his adopted mother, sent with so much motherly love and affection that he almost forgot that he was parentless.
With a happy heart, Harry pointed his wand from behind his desk towards the creature and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"
"You're trying to tell me that somewhere in that school right now there is a classroom being terrorized by the most annoying and persistent ghost in existence—and while this is occurring you're sitting in your bedroom watching Netflix?"
Danny Fenton took a sip of his soda, his cell phone pulled slightly away from his ear.
"Yeah. Something like that."
"Daniel James Fenton, I swear—"
He pulled the phone away from his ear completely now, watching The Avengers on his laptop with wide, mesmerized eyes, scarcely aware of his wife's garble coming from the device. He really needed to thank Tucker one of these days—infusing ectoplasm into his technology and having it run solely off of ecto-energy was pure genius! Not only did it enhance the Wifi-distance and the speed, but it allowed everything to work inside the castle!
Danny smirked, thinking back to one of his and Severus' arguments about bringing technology into Hogwarts. Severus had strongly disapproved, nagging on and on about how "it can't possibly work" or "you'd have to be more daft than Potter to think that contraption will operate".In the end, Dumbledore compromised that if he could get it to function, it was acceptable.
And, well, being best friends with technology-genius Tucker Foley did have its advantages.
Glancing at the mini-clock on the corner of his screen, he realized a few minutes had passed since he stopped listening to his wife on the other end of the line. He released a sigh and brought it back up to his ear—knowing if he didn't say something sooner or later she would catch on and start ranting about that too.
"Sam," he stated seriously, cutting her off. "Everything will be fine. Relax, it's just the box ghost. How much danger could they actually be in?"
Samantha Manson replied dryly, "Considering they're used to ghosts that can't even physically touch them, I'd imagine it's one hell of a culture shock."
Danny chuckled a little, before growing serious again, "Oh, don't worry. They'll adapt."
"Of course they will. You won't give them a choice."
"Hey, it's not my fault," he defended weakly, blushing despite being thousands of miles away, "The ghosts would've shown up here on their own eventually anyways. I'm just giving the wizards a head-start so that they're not thrown off-guard once the real baddies break through the barriers."
"Yeah, you're right," Sam sighed. A silent moment passed before she asked, "Are the barriers really that useless?"
Danny responded grimly, "It appears that way. Old Dumbles put up a shit-ton of magical defense wards, but the ghosts are just phasing through them like it's nothing. If this keeps up, we're going to have to use my parents' ghost shield."
"I thought you were taking care of that?"
"There's only so many I can catch at once," he grudgingly admitted, "I did patrol last night and caught thirty ghosts. Thirty. Come this morning, my ghost sense was still going off."
Sam audibly winced. "Yikes. That's a lot. Where are you putting them?"
"I have a lot of thermoses on me; the ghosts are in there now, but I made an arrangement with Wulf so that he'll visit once a week and let me empty them into the Ghost Zone."
"Oh, well that's good!" she rooted optimistically, causing a bittersweet smile to weave its way onto Danny's face. It had only been one day without her thus far and he already felt distressed. There was a pang in his chest every now and then, reminding him that he had to suffer this insane Wizarding World alone. He was so used to having his two best friends by his side through everything—this would be the first time he'd have to face supernatural entities without them.
Not that he hadn't tried to include them in—oh, he had practically begged Dumbledore. But, evidently, they wouldn't be much help. Since they were muggles, there would be too many charms and spells that would prohibit them from physically being in the castle, or anywhere magical, really. Luckily, Danny's half-ghost status made him the exception to all the wards and boundaries. Whereas Sam and Tuck would be affected by all the barriers, Danny would feel only a slight tingle walking through them—nothing more, nothing less.
Ectoplasmic beings and wizarding magic were still an iffy combination. No one was really sure how it worked or which form of energy had the upper hand. For now, the most Danny knew was that ghosts were (up to this point) pretty much immune to magic. It was a side-experiment he would continue to test out while he was here; he might as well, given that he would be spending quite a hefty amount of time at Hogwarts.
He had a mission to complete, after all.
Taking another peek at the clock, he noticed that at least an hour and half had gone by since he had left Umwitch and the kids alone. The box ghost must have made an appearance by now, and he knew he'd get a lecture later by a certain greasy-haired professor if he didn't put an end to it sooner.
"I've gotta go," he said, not even bothering to hide the reluctance and despair in his voice. "No one has come up screaming about ghosts and I'm getting a little worried. I better go check on them."
"Yeah, you better," Sam agreed, sounding a little upset herself. "Be careful."
"Aren't I always?"
Sam scoffed, "Stop being a smart-ass and go help those poor wizards."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it."
Before he hung up, he said, "I love you."
Sam's voice softened, "I love you too." Then hardened again, "Hang up before I make this a three-way and put your parents on the phone."
Danny snapped the phone shut instantly, knowing his wife's threats weren't to be taken lightly. He had been specifically avoiding his parents, unable to reveal to them too much of what was going on, thus feeding their curiosity as to why he had to go on a random "business trip" to England for a couple of months. Ever since he had bid them farewell and departed on the plane, they had already filled up his phone with 57 text messages, 24 missed calls, and 6 voicemails.
He groaned thinking about it. As annoying as they could be, he did love them and would have to contact them sooner or later.
Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he closed his laptop and climbed out of the bed. Taking in his abode admiringly for a moment, he had to admit, Dumbledore knew how to decorate.
Unlike the rest of the dormitories in the castle, Dumbles had specifically catered this one to accommodate its guest. Just like at home with his parents, the floor was made of dark brown wood, and a circular blue rug had been added to accent his navy blue bed comforter and set. The walls, too, were a navy blue color, though the headmaster had seen to it that his NASA posters from home would be replicated and hung up throughout the room. The furniture—a desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf—was new and neatly furnished.
It was all nice and sweet—but Danny's favorite part was the ceiling.
Having a lot of chats with Danny, the headmaster was quite aware of his love for space. Danny was a part-time astronaut, after all. Though he wasn't always around to be doing research, he occasionally got called in to carry out missions in space and pilot the shuttles. Normally this wasn't allowed, but considering his "special circumstances" as well as his connections with the mayor (Tucker), NASA let him get away with it.
And, well, what better way to make an astronaut feel at home than a ceiling charmed to look like the Milky Way, with stars glittering all over the black abyss and a cloudy sort of residue misting the sky.
Danny had debated about setting up pictures of his family and friends to add to the homely feel, but decided against it last minute. God forbid someone broke in and tried to dig up information on him; the last thing he wanted was these homicidal wizards to target his loved ones.
"All right, let's see," he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "We have the number one pain-in-my-ass terrorizing a classroom full of uneducated wizards, as well as the professor I despise the most. I need to remove him without giving too much away, but while still freaking out the wizards and acting like I know everything they don't, which is true to begin with. What do I bring with me?"
Not even two seconds passed by until he smirked, knowing full-well the answer.
I'm normally not an ALL-CAPS person, but because it's the Box Ghost I find this absolutely necessary.