It truly was amazing, the effects the death of one public person could bear on one community. Back when he was alive, Vlad Masters straddled the line between love and hate – for every one person that favored him, there was another one who wished him gone. In life, he had never been an overly popular man, just an overly privileged one.

In death, there was not one person who did not grieve for his loss. Danny turned this concept over and over in his head with a bitter smile up in his room. Clutched in his hands was the container Vlad had passed on to him – the one that currently held the Plasmius soul; no, Danny no longer had any doubts as to whether or not the box held any actual matter; it was clear to him, had Vlad still retained his ghost half, he would not have met such a gruesome fate.

Jasper had been unceremoniously kicked out of his room; Danny glared contemptuously at the intruder's half-opened suitcase with several items of clothing strewn upon the floor around it. He had locked himself in the sanctuary of his bedroom for nearly twenty four hours now, since he returned from the scene outside Vlad's mansion. No one had called him out to dinner.

Danny wasn't completely sure what to feel; he had never seen eye-to-eye with Vlad, and he often resented the older man's presence in his life – but never had he thought that anyone could meet such an ugly end to their life, and the sheer abruptness of it all had left him feeling a little bit winded. One day, Vlad had been there, in the hospital and settling Danny's medical bill, and the next, he had vanished into thin air. The next anyone in Amity Park had seen of Vlad was only a fleeting glimpse during the media circus gathered outside his gates just hours before.

And what had he been doing at the hospital anyway? Danny recalled the clean cut he had noticed on Vlad's arm, the reaction the older man had displayed when he enquired about it. Danny was certain there was something suspicious going on there.

Finally, he could ignore his rumbling stomach no longer, and decided to grace the rest of his family with his presence at the dinner table.

What he didn't expect, though, was to see his parents sitting on the couch surrounded by a group of men in suits. Danny recognized them immediately as Vlad's lawyers who had come to FentonWorks to dispense legal advice a few weeks ago. Every single one of them looked trouble.

His mother caught sight of him first. "Oh, sweetie, you're here. Good. There's some leftovers in the fridge – no one ate much, so there's a lot to choose from."

"What's going on?" Danny voiced.

Maddie got to her feet, ushering him out the living room. "It's nothing, sweetie. The men just wanted to come discuss the terms of Vlad's will with us. It looks like he's left all his money to … well, to me," she admitted. Danny turned around sharply and stared at her. He knew Vlad had always had feelings for his mom, but to leave her his entire fortune?

"So, are you going to take it?"

Maddie wrinkled her nose. "Personally, I don't think we need it – it's a little strange that he never mentioned your father … but nothing will come out of it, sweetheart, you see – there's a little … disparity."

"A disparity?" Danny echoed.

Maddie seemed genuinely uncomfortable now. "Well, it would seem that Vlad recently had his will updated. The money is eligible to us and someone he calls 'The Little Badger'."

Danny froze. "'The what'?"

"'The Little Badger'," Maddie repeated, browsing through the refrigerator to find something suitable to give her hunger-worn son. "The problem is, his lawyers have no idea who Vlad means. So, like I said, until they get this issue resolved – and I don't see how they will – Vlad's money is completely tied up."

Danny accepted a bowl of cold chicken and beans without registering it. Vlad had left his money to Maddie … and him? But why had Vlad addressed Danny by his own private nickname if he wanted him to have the money?

"Didn't his lawyers tell him he couldn't do that?" Danny exclaimed.

Maddie sighed. "Well, the thing of it is – apparently, he can. Vlad brought in his own witnesses who claimed he was lucid and of sound mind at the time he redid the will. In order to release any money, they would need some way to identify who this 'Little Badger' is. And they came here hoping that we would know."

She grabbed her set of fancy glassware and began pouring cold drinks into them. "Don't stay up too late, dear," she said, turning back to her guests. "Remember, you have school tomorrow."

Danny raced upstairs and locked himself inside his room before logging online, relieved to find both Sam and Tucker were there as well.

You guys are not going to believe who's here, he punched the keys on his board furiously.

Vlad? Tucker responded immediately. That'd be pretty unbelievable, considering.

Danny quickly related everything his mother had just told him and waited for them to comment.

If Vlad wants you to have his money, Sam responded, why would he risk you not inheriting it over a technicality?

Vlad's not stupid, Danny stated. Whatever he wants, he plans for. There's only one reason I can think of that would explain this.

Which is? Tucker asked.

It means that he needs me to do something for him, Danny replied. He knew whatever killed him off would require investigation, and he wanted me to do something about it.

You mean, as in, stop the government from investigating? Tucker posed.

Maybe… Danny paused, trying to assemble his thoughts on the matter. My mom did say that Vlad had only recently changed his will. It must have been after the Guys in White showed up. Maybe he wants me to stop them from looking to deeply into his death.

Or maybe, Sam reasoned, he wants you to do some investigating of your own.

That did make sense. Danny's brain clicked as he realized what Sam was hinting at. Oh man, he groaned. You don't mean…?

Oh, yes, he could practically see the devilish grin on the girl's face.

We're going to Vlad's place, aren't we? Tucker added mournfully.

The architecture of Vlad Masters mansion was a sight to behold. It seemed to Danny that it changed with the atmosphere of the times. To him, he knew only doom and dread lay in store, being Vlad's archnemesis, but even he could appreciate the beauty its exterior presented.

Vlad's mansion stood tall and proud against the gleaming horizon of Amity Park. During his time in power as Amity Park's mayor, his home had shined like a beacon of hope, that good things awaited the scared and desperate people of Amity Park. In his failure, it leaned ominously against a grey sky, a mark of failure blighted on the very town. In Danny's eyes, the house had always been a taunting figure, Vlad's way of highlighting the way in which he had simply steamrolled into town. Now, the building just looked … wrong. Robbed of an owner, it had no place left in this town; the other abodes it had dwarfed now made it seem clumsy and gargantuan, entirely too big for this humble town.

"What an eyesore," Sam said ineloquently.

The three of them simply stood there and gazed up at the brick palace for a moment, a mark of respect or a sign of their awe at the sheer size of it, Danny didn't know. Tucker had been of the opinion that it would be too creepy to enter the mansion at night so soon after Vlad's violent death, to which Danny wholeheartedly agreed. Sam, however, had misinterpreted this to mean that they ought to leave immediately so as to get there before sunset. The other two, secure in the knowledge that they were powerless to change Sam's mind to follow through on a prospect she was excited about, simply trudged along behind her.

"Well boys," she said cheerfully now, "let's get a move on. Wouldn't want Tuck here wetting his pants before we get in."

Tucker glared but said nothing in response. They ducked behind a rather large bush, and Danny held on to his friends with either hand. There was no doubt that the Guys in White were watching the house – from a safe distance – after the events that had transpired the previous day. Willing himself intangible, they passed harmlessly through the wrought-iron gates and up the gentle slope to the manor.

Only once they were inside did Danny and his friends materialize again.

Danny didn't know what he expected; overturned furniture, holes in the wall, prized possessions smashed to pieces on the floor – any of those would have been fine. But the house and everything in it seemed to be … immaculate. Danny opened his mouth to say something, make some comment, but nothing came out. It was as if the atmosphere inside the house was too heavy for sound to escape.

Slowly three pairs of hands parted from one another and each person made a solitary exploration of the room. It was infinitely creepy, Danny decided, touching something that only a few days before had been held by Vlad. His fingers brushed almost reverently over a small portrait of the man staring smugly down at his audience in a smart black suit. It made Danny smile. No photographs for Vlad – it was first-class all the way.

He tapped Sam's arm, silently telling her to keep watch for any Guys in White who may have been roaming about while he investigated other rooms. From the hall to the living room, which Danny noticed did not contain a television – 'Why watch the news when you can make it instead?' he recalled Vlad telling him once. It was strange; back then, the words had only served to irritate Danny, just another way for Vlad to boast about how highly he held himself over the common man; now, they filled him with a dull ache, a reminder that he would never again hear such asinine words of wisdom

Blinking away images of an imaginary flat-screen, Danny stepped past the overstuffed couches and entered into what was undoubtedly the library. Instead of walls, three sides of this room were lined by built-in shelves, each row stuffed with a leather-bound journal of some kind. A ladder fitted with wheels was positioned against one shelf, and in the center of the room were two uncomfortable-looking brown armchairs and a small circular round table with a lamp on it. How melodramatic could one get? Danny sifted through the many volumes, none of the titles catching in his memory. Whatever Vlad's intentions were, Danny was certain they did not include him sitting down and poring over these dusty old things. If Danny knew Vlad the way he thought, he found it hard to believe the elder half-ghost spent much time doing the same. Vlad was all about the show, but did very little to keep up a charade if he could help it.

The next room he found himself in was the bedroom. Danny knew the moment he entered that it had to belong to Vlad due to the sheer size of it. The canopy bed with royal red sheets and gold trimmings were a dead giveaway. Danny guffawed, the first real sound he had made since entering the house. If Vlad were here today, he would never have let the man live this one down. Not even Paulina had curtains around her bed.

Vlad clearly had a taste for the old-fashioned, but Danny was unsurprised to find a walk-in closet lined with very stylish outfits for the modern man. Black had been Vlad's favorite color, but as Danny fingered a beautiful piece that felt as though it was made of material finer than silk, he thought that it would bring out his eyes in a very nice way.

His cellphone buzzed in his pocked and, panicked, he fumbled it out and hastily went clicked on to his inbox, fearing that the Guys in White had burst in with guns blazing. Instead, he found Tucker wanting to know what it was they were even looking for. Danny himself had no idea, so he pushed the device back without responding and left the bedroom.

Over the next half hour, Danny came across several living rooms – none of which contained a TV – six bathrooms, a kitchen three times the size allocated to the home economics class in school, a grand dining hall, a ballroom – and yet, oddly enough, Danny didn't recall ever seeing a second bedroom. How strange it must have been, to surround oneself in all this splendor, yet to be dedicated to a life of isolation. Danny couldn't understand it, and he didn't want to. The more he poked around in Vlad's house, the more he learned of the loneliness imposed on such a lifestyle. If it had been him, Danny was sure he would have gone mad from the echoes.

He sighed. All this effort had proven to be a waste of time. He was no closer to finding out what Vlad had required of him than he had been when his mother made mention of it earlier that day. Still, Danny reflected, he had gained a newfound appreciation for his old nemesis. He would never like Vlad, he supposed, but perhaps now learning about the hunger that drove him to do the things he did was enough. He pushed a door open and found himself, to some surprise, in a beautiful garden. The sun had long since faded, and there were few stars hanging in the sky. The grass was wet and the crickets chirped lazily. Danny toed off his shoes and stuffed his socks into them, and stepped out into the dew.

The second his feet touched the grass, he almost wished he had stayed inside the house. A chill descended over him, unnatural and nothing to do with the warm breeze blowing his way. He gasped, gagged, and fell to his knees, struggling for air and wishing for it to stop piercing his lungs as the same time. His fingers curled into shaky fists.

There had only been a handful of times he'd ever felt this way.

The blue mist that was forced out of his mouth was ragged and raw.

There was a very powerful presence here.

He felt rather than heard the heavy footstep that landed just before his prone figure. Trembling, Danny raised his eyes upward, heart sinking with every inch he took in. Strong black armor, darker than any form of pitch darkness Danny had ever experienced before ran upwards to support a massive frame. The most frightening part about the experience wasn't even the gleaming sword pointed several centimeters from his face, but staring into green eyes, encapsulated by a helmet, drawing him in like a vortex.

"Up."

The sword drew back, and Danny shakily got to his feet. No sooner as he had positioned himself upright did he find himself at sword point again. The Fright Knight began to circle slowly, blocking the only means of escape, and Danny had no choice but to slowly move in rhythm. The knight stepped forward, and Danny only backed away in time, darting backwards as the imposing figure advanced.

Those devastating eyes narrowed. "I know your face," the Fright Knight said in a calculative tone. "What do you here?"

"I – I—" Danny huffed, his heart beating wildly. He wildly thought about transforming, but he knew, he knew, that doing so would get him killed. "I—"

"Speak!" Purple flame erupted upon the armored ghost. Danny reared his head back.

"I – Vlad sent me," Danny blurted out. Where had that come from?

The Fright Knight did not budge. "You are the one he said would come." Danny breathed a sigh of relief as the sword was lowered from his throat, then stiffened again.

"He – he said that I would come?" Danny stammered. "Who's 'he'?"

The Fright Knight was stalking away now, and stated baldly, "Plasmius."

Danny stood there in shock. Vlad had told the Fright Knight he would come? He was completely and utterly lost.

The Fright Knight paused then in the middle of the magnificent garden. Danny took a hesitant step forward. "Vlad – Plasmius – told you I was coming?"

"He said that it was all part of the plan," the Fright Knight informed.

"The … the plan?"

"The plan," the Fright Knight said. "The plan to end his life."

Danny felt the world spin. "Vlad set a plan … to end his life?" he muttered faintly, almost as though to himself. "I don't – I don't understand. What plan?"

"Plasmius has played his part," the Fright Knight told him. "He rests now, waiting for the blissful song of Heaven." The heavy armor shifted, and the Fright Knight threw out an arm, gesturing. "See, he has provided my role to play."

Danny stared, disbelieving, jaw hinged open, as the Fright Knight waved to a mound of earth peeking over a flat stretch of grass.

"You – you buried him," he said softly, tonelessly. "You … killed him?"

"So I did," the Fright Knight agreed, piercing him with his soulless eyes once again. "At his behest, I brought him to end."

If Danny thought he was confused before, he was simply stumbling around in the dark now. How could Vlad – how could anyone – have planned such a thing? He had spent the last few hours grieving for a man lost to a fate he wouldn't have wished on anyone, and now he found out he had asked for this?

"What did – what did you do?" Danny found himself asking almost involuntarily.

"I carried out with his instructions," the answer came back. "I severed his head with my sword and left it on the ground." Danny heard a whistling between his ears. "I lay his body unattached, and I slew it till it held no form."

Danny thought he was going to be sick. In his mind's eye he could see the Fright Knight tossing Vlad's body carelessly to the ground and mutilating it, piercing tender skin with the sharpened tip, until there was nothing left but minced flesh, unrecognizable, perverted, hideous to behold.

"And the…." Danny could barely force himself to continue, blinking the grotesque images out of his head, "The Guys in White?"

The Fright Knight exhaled, the noise ominous and foreboding. "They had no business here."

Danny didn't have to ask the specter to explain. He already knew what fate had befallen the two men who had been carted out of the house the previous day. His eyes drifted down to the gleaming sword clutched in the knight's grip. He already knew of the sword's power, of how it could run through a man and he wouldn't bleed, if the sword so wished, would just collapse with nary a scar, and how you would begin to feel cold, so cold, as though death's icy grip were rising up inside your own body. And then the delusions would begin, mad things, conjured up with a sole purpose to torment. He knew how you wanted to scream, and scream, and scream, but had not the power to flutter an eye.

"Why?" he had to ask. "Why would anyone ask for something like this?'

The Fright Knight's eyes widened in fury, and the flames that had been slowly simmering upon his form rose high, reaching for the stars. "That is not for you to know!" One swift movement, and the tip of the sword was pointed back at Danny's tender throat. "You stand here now only by the grace of Plasmius," the knight hissed lowly. "Were it not my freedom at stake, I would cut you down to my feet."

Danny backed away slowly. "Go now, soldier," the Fright Knight bade. "Never return, if you cherish your life. For if you do, I might not be so merciful in our next encounter." He drew back his sword, sheathing it, and waited. Stumblingly, Danny found himself at the door, daring to take one last peek at the malignant presence that inhabited the desecrated garden. Once inside, he pulled the heavy doors closed, falling back onto the cold stone that lined the floor and coughing out his lungs that still burned from the icy chill that had taken them.

"Danny!" he heard Sam cry out. Her heavy black army boots clod against the floor as she rushed to his side. "Danny, are you alright?"

"F – fine," Danny sputtered, pulling himself to sit up. He was immediately captured in a hacking cough again. Tucker pushed a glass of water into his hands worriedly, and Danny tipped his head back and downed it all in one.

"What happened?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing – come on, we've got to get out of here," Danny said quickly.

"But—"

"No, Sam, come on," he urged, getting unsteadily on to his feet. "Hurry!"

"What's your rush?" Tucker questioned. "What happened, man?"

But Danny shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it; he didn't want to think about it; all he cared about right now was getting as far away as possible from Vlad's manor. Hurtling himself forward, he braced his hand against the wall, cool to the touch. The entire way out of the estate, he could feel Sam and Tucker's concerned eyes boring into him. He kept his head down and marched forward, resolutely keeping the sickening images forced into his head by the Fright Knight's gruesome story at bay.

"Danny, maybe we should—" Sam started, but stopped when suddenly one side of the wall swiveled, taking an unsuspecting Danny, who hollered in surprise, on to the other side. Immediately, she and Tucker launched themselves against the cement, pounding their fists relentlessly against it. "Danny!" Thud thud thud. "Danny!"

Danny stepped backwards, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He heard the voices of his friends emanating faintly from the other side. "Danny!"

"I – I'm okay!" he reassured them loudly. "It was a trick wall."

"Where are you?" Sam questioned. "Can you find any way to get out?"

Danny turned around, taking in his surroundings. It was dark and he couldn't really make out where he was. What little light there was streamed in through the cracks that ran along the walls. Danny felt his way around until he finally found a switch. His eyes were flooded by a dim light when he flipped it on.

He was in a large cavernous room. The ceiling overhead was high and curved and there were several stalactites hanging downwards from various points, and Danny could see a few stalagmites decorating the corners of the room. Small puddles lay peacefully around the area, and Danny could hear the steady sound of water dripping down resonating from somewhere. For all its natural eeriness, the room contained some sophisticated pieces of machinery.

Up against the wall was a computer system even more advanced than the one that inhabited the basement of FentonWorks; to the left was a table, one that reminded Danny of Dr. Frankenstein resting his creation before bringing it to life, with restraints to be placed over the subject's wrists and ankles, and a longer one that ran along the width of the table where the subject's waistline would be. And in one darkened corner, Danny took a step closer, lay what Vlad believed to be the answers to all of life's mysteries. A swirling purple vortex, contained within a heavy doorframe made of steel, so much like the one that Jack and Maddie Fenton had spent twenty years or their lives to build. Danny swallowed, thinking of all the times when he had been unable to sleep and would creep downstairs to sit down in front of the portal in his own home, staring into its depth as he pondered. How many times had Vlad done the same thing? How many times had he tossed and turned on his magnificent bed and let himself in here, to sit down on the unforgiving sharp rocks that adorned this room, and just watch?

Danny turned away, and his eyebrows shot up as he noticed something he had failed to take inventory of before: a small photograph, housed within a simple wooden frame. Danny's heart thudded as he reached out and picked it up. Never in his years had he imagined Vlad possessing a keepsake such as this. He ran one index finger against the picture of the young girl with a mischievous smirk, black hair tied into a ponytail, silly red cap pulled over her head in an ill-fitting manner, and cerulean eyes just like his own staring back up at him.

All vestiges of the cold that had seeped into Danny's lungs evaporated. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white, folded up sheet of paper as it dropped out of its hiding place behind the picture frame. He bent down and picked it up, carefully placing the photograph back where it had stood before, and unfolded the note.

My dear Daniel.

This was it.

Vlad had written this note. To him. Somehow, the silver-haired man had known that Danny would end up here.

I have no doubt that it is you and you alone who have found this letter, and the first eyes since my own to read its contents. If you are reading this, then you know that I am dead, at long last, and that I have left you a little task which you have performed as exquisitely as I expected.

I rest now, knowing that I have cleared my name in your memory. I don't know how much has been revealed to you, nor do I care, for all that matters to me is that if you are standing here now taking in these very words, then I am sure, I am certain, you have come to realize that my sacrifice was my own to make.

Learn from the failings of others, young Daniel. Live not to make your own.

We have come now to a satisfying end, and I still say, you will always be my little badger.

Vladimir Masters

"So this is it," Sam said, raising her eyes to meet Danny's. "This is what he wanted you to find."

"I don't understand it," Tucker confessed.

"Neither do I," Danny admitted. "Not completely at least. But Vlad was right – it was his sacrifice."

Sam shook her head. "I can't believe…" she said. "Can you imagine, planning to die in such a way?"

"No," Danny shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to understand that. The way he did the things he did … not just the bad stuff, but even the ones that I can't explain no matter how I try. How he could have just … castrated himself." Because that's what he had done, Danny knew. To someone like him – to someone like Vlad – willingly removing their ghost halves, something tied so inexplicably into the very core of who they were … it was incomprehensible.

Tucker placed a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder. "He was very strong," he said. "That's what I've learned coming here. I don't know anyone else who could have done things the way he insisted."

"Yeah," Danny nodded, gazing up at the towering monument left abandoned. "Yeah, you're right." He folded up the letter and tucked it into his pocket, reminding himself to hand it over to the proper authorities to handle later on. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder, the other one over Tucker's, and together they began to walk away, back to their real lives. "And you know what? I think everything is going to be okay."

The warm breeze fluttered behind them in response.


Author's Note: One reviewer once told me that my writing style reminds her of her favorite author, JK Rowling. They said they hoped they hadn't offended me by that remark, and I would just like to say in response, that I could never take offense to someone who compares me to such a monumental author. Like many in my generation, I grew up reading the series. It's hard to believe it's been almost a decade since I picked up Goblet of Fire, which was the first book in the series that I read. I could hardly understand anything what with references to 'Quidditch' and 'Parseltongue', but what was obvious to me even then was that Rowling had an extremely good plot on her hands with that book, and my view on the fourth in the series is really reflected in this story, I think. You'll notice how I, in following her example, have followed the POV of the central character in the title and letting events unfold as through his eyes, rather than giving you guys a bird's eye view over everything happening.

This chapter isn't inspired so much by Goblet of Fire as it was the Half-Blood Prince though. I found it to be a great book and a breathtaking movie. I am completely over setting my stories during the nighttime (though I'll have to considering the nature of this series) because the HBP movie showed me just how gloomy and oppressive daylight can be when done right, and I think I managed to capture some of that in this chapter, where everything had been so unresolved in the middle of the day when they entered the mansion, and it was a pleasant surprise even to me to find that the ending of this chapter, which takes place once again during nightfall, was nice and … peaceful, in a way. I had the movie in mind when I wrote this chapter because I really wanted to evoke the same kind of atmosphere of sorrow that surrounded the entire movie, as though every character knew something bad was going to happen, but didn't know how to stop it.

Last year when I was contemplating about how to move this story forward from the stagnant rut it had got itself into, I considered revamping some of the characters to be darker than I had portrayed them earlier on in the story. In particular, I thought of making Skulker (who WILL be making future appearances) more stoic, but when I went back and read some of the earlier chapters, I realized it wouldn't work because I had already modeled him with the boisterous personality Hartman provided him with (most evident in Micro Management, in my opinion). Then I realized, duh. The Fright Knight was the perfect candidate for the more ominous stoic personality I had in mind, which worked out perfectly because I always knew I wanted him to be the one responsible for Vlad's demise in my fic. I remember a lot of speculation that the Fright Knight had turned on to Vlad's side after Reign Storm, and I knew early on that this was the only way I could make a character as significant as the Fright Knight repay his debt.

Anyway, all this rambling has led up to this one point that I want to make: this chapter, as a result, is very OOC. I did a little bit of a retcon from the original series in which Danny's ghost sense responds the same way whether he's facing Pariah Dark or the Box Ghost. For the purposes of this chapter alone, I decided it would make more sense for it to react more violently in the presence of powerful beings like the Fright Knight. As such, in this fic, Danny's ghost sense responds more to a ghost's power rather than to their presence.

Another aspect that has been changed: Vlad's mansion. I remember from the few glimpses we got of Vlad's house once he moved to Amity Park on the show that it is nothing like the way it's portrayed here. I believe in the show, he lived in more of a gated community on the rich side of town rather than having a huge estate all to himself like he does here? Nevertheless, I felt it worked in context of the fic. It's a real shame that Hartman felt he had to make Vlad's character so one-dimensional as the series continued. I probably would have done the same, considering, but the freedom of writing the story instead of illustrating it for a network is that I now get to give Vlad the same sort of treatment Rowling gave Snape, which is much more befitting for such a complicated and isolated character. I always enjoyed the episodes where Vlad was a misguided paternal figure to Danny more than the ones where he resorted to outright villainy. Vlad's mansion, including his 'Batcave', is a reflection of that, and I tried to describe it to be as gothic as it could possibly be to help along his transformation into a tragic figure. I may or may not have had Castlevania in my head when describing the house.

Please let me know what you thought about this chapter, I do love reading everything you guys have to say. I was so excited about your reviews last chapter, knowing you're all on this journey with me.