I have no clue when this came up, but I honestly shouldn't be writing it. I've got too much on my plate already. I can't eat it all! Just trying to get rid of all these plot bunnies, I guess.
I'm too lazy at the moment to come up with anything, so I'm far too lazy to have fabricated an entire television show.
"'That's the spirit, dear,' said his mirror sleepily."-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Danny stumbled into his room in a blaze of white-blue light, clutching the side of his head tightly as though that would stop the profuse bleeding. He glanced around the room, quickly catching sight of his softly snoring sister. He smiled lightly at the sight of her sprawled limbs across the foot of his bed. His piercing blue eyes caught hold of the small white box in her hands, causing the humor to fade and be replaced by a fondness that can only be shared between siblings.
He carefully maneuvered the first-aid kit from her tightly clasped fingers, quickly replacing it with a sturdy box that used to contain the parts to his favorite model rocket. He nearly chuckled at the thought of the small pieces, nuts, and bolts it used to contain floating around in the Ghost Zone. It was certainly a day the Box Ghost, Technus, and Phantom would be better off forgetting.
The spattering of red that landed dangerously close to the sleeping teen brought him abruptly back into reality. Carefully avoiding the ghost-related items in the kit, he pulled out the fast-depleting supply of white gauze. Jack Fenton thought the gauze was being stolen by a ghost, go figure, but Maddie was eyeing Jazz's psych patients warily. Danny often wondered what she would think of Phantom being one of her most frequent house guests. It was like he practically lived there!
After finishing the self-help medical bits of his nightly routine, Danny gently picked up the redheaded psychologist. He had learned long ago that Jazz was almost as deep a sleeper as Jack.
He figured she seemed too light to be eating right. Of course, he had no place to talk, but Jazz had less reasoning than he did. He made a mental note to force-feed her as much as she did to him. He carefully pulled the box from her arms, this time replacing it with her stuffed bear. Just as gently as before, he lifted the covers over her and kissed her forehead in a rare sentimental lapse (something he would later testify had never happened).
Smiling, he turned to leave and froze in his tracks.
Standing silhouetted in the darkened doorway to Jazz's room was a figure far too small to be his father yet far too large for his mother. He immediately lowered into a battle stance, warily eyeing his opponent.
The person in the dark seemed surprised. As Danny's eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight of the hallway, he softly shut the door.
"You're not getting in there if that's what you were planning," he stated firmly staring the man in the eye with a fierce determination.
"That… wasn't my intention," the boy said in a soft tenor that surprised Danny for a fleeting moment. He took in the intruder's appearance. His eyes were a piercing green that seemed to rival his own in ghost form. His hair seemed to be black. It was definitely shinier and more healthy-looking than his own raven locks. He wasn't any taller than Danny himself, which was an advantage to Danny as the boy didn't seem experienced in fighting. He never let his guard down, though, considering past experience that looks can be deceiving.
The boy squirmed under the pressure of Danny's stare. "W-what happened to your head?"
Danny eyebrows shot up and his hand instinctively lifted to touch the familiar cloth. He had forgotten.
"Albus, there are weird little gadgets all over the place," a little girl said, coming into view.
Danny's expression suddenly became panicked. "Don't touch that," he hissed.
"Don't tell me what to do," she replied, immediately touching the offending piece of metal. The responding explosion of green light only missed the small girl because Danny had pushed both of the intruders to the ground.
"Quick, into the closet! Don't touch anything else!" Danny commanded looking over his shoulder.
Both children immediately responded. The girl looked ashen and shocked as Albus lead her into the proffered closet. They listened through the door as the strange boy talked to someone new.
"I just tripped over the stairs, Mom. The gun was there by accident. You know my luck. I already bandaged up my head," the boy was saying.
"That must've been one bad fall, Danny," a woman's voice, most likely Danny's mom, said, her tone a strange mix between disbelief, worry, and exasperation. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, Mom. Dad's lack of balance luckily comes with a hard skull."
The two laughed softly.
"Why are you up so late, sweetheart?" the motherly voice said again.
"Jazz and I were talking, and I guess we lost track of time. She's asleep now."
There was a long pause as the click of a flashlight resounded through the silent hall. "Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, but you'll stay home from school tomorrow just in case. Don't give me that look. I'm sure they'll let you make up your work."
"Lancer would never let me make up my work. Please, Mom, I'm fine. I can go to school tomorrow."
"Now I know something's wrong."
"Fine, I'll miss school. Are you happy now?"
"Yes. Now, off to bed with you," she said, dismissing the conversation.
They heard rather soft footsteps preceding the shutting of a door in the distance.
Another set of small footsteps made their way to the door behind which they were hiding.
"You can come out now," Danny said softly.
The girl was still wide-eyed, but Albus, as she had called him, was looking at him suspiciously.
"Why did you cover for us?" Albus demanded. This boy didn't seem so intimidating anymore, even if the gauze seemed to be bulging a bit.
Danny shrugged, "Who are you, and why are you in my house?"
The girl answered eagerly, "I'm Lily, and this is Albus. Our parents are Ginny and Harry Potter, and we're here because they're in trouble." She punctuated her words with a broad grin. "And you are going to help us."
Nor am I the best choice when referring to the author of the Harry Potter books.