AN: This story is dead. No more shall it be written.
...
Of course given the subject matter of the story, being dead isn't that much of a concern. It will simply be an undead story. And just because I'm not writing it doesn't mean I can't- *ghost*- write it.
...
Ah, bad puns. How I wish I could quit them.
:AN
Harry's hand ached as he left the Defensive Professor's office. The absolutely wonderful professor had felt that the last week of detentions hadn't been enough time for her lesson to, and Harry had wanted to curse her when she said it, sink in. Instead he retreated into his Occulemency lessons. He accepted the pain, but tried not to dwell on it, even as he was forced to torment his own hand, letting it wrench itself until it was difficult to make it un-clench from its current claw like configuration.
For the first time in his life Harry was openly-, well almost openly, thankf- hap-, almost not minding something Snape was teaching him. And he didn't even feel like he needed a bath thinking that- well, nothing more than a light scrubbing at least.
But such thoughts faded as Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor tower, sucked away by the lingering pain and the turbulent ball of negative emotions zipping around inside of him.
Back in the Common Room, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him. They had a bowl of murtlap essence ready and he eagerly dipped his hand in. It might have been meant for, say, more visible wounds, but it still helped with Harry with his current problem. He had given up trying to hide the damage after his hand had started to act up in a rather obvious manner for hours on end. It simply wasn't worth the effort at that point.
No one said anything for a bit, but Ron started to fidget. The silence grew awkward and Harry wanted to break it with a joke. But his insides were too tight, too raw, roiling, and burning for him to think of one. He started to hate the silence.
He broke it was a snarl, losing control of the anger that was starting to come over him. The fire flared and crackled as Harry stared into it.
Harry was sick of this. He was sick of being helpless. He was sick of Voldemort. He was sick of being the center of attention, either as a celebrity or as a freak. He was sick of suffering for the selfish agendas of Voldemort, his followers, and all those like them, from the petty bullying of Malfoy, to the unethical scandal spinning of Rita Skeeter, to the Ministry's current foolhardy plan.
"Mate," there was a hand on his shoulder. Harry looked up to the concerned face of Ron. "Are you alright?"
The fire died down.
"No," Harry sighed. He looked at his right hand, noting the red lines still visible through the murtlap. He briefly felt the urge to say something along the lines of 'I'm all left' or a similar joke, but now he felt too empty.
"Tell McGonagall," Hermione insisted. "This can't be legal."
"Just tell Dumbledore," Ron said. "Even if this is legal he can probably find some way to stop this."
"I doubt McGonagall can do anything about this," Harry said. "And Dumbledore-"
Dumbledore had been avoiding him, but Harry was also a security risk, so maybe that was the wisest course of action. But that also probably meant that Dumbledore had too much on his plate to bother with something like this.
Still, a part of Harry whispered, it would be nice to shove some of his own crap onto Dumbledore's plate...
"That might work," Harry admitted. "At the very least he might give me some tips. Let me see if he's in his office, so we can give this a try."
Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he stated. "Let's see if he's in his office."
His eyes found the dot that said Dumbledore, still in the headmaster's office.
Then his eyes found the dot that said Umbridge, in the hallway right by the entrance to the headmaster's office.
"That-" words failed Harry. "She's waiting. She's waiting right there. That-"
The fire roared.
"I can't get past using the invisibility cloak," Harry said, voice tight. "She'd hear me guessing the password. Or hear the door opening."
Silence.
"Luckily we might have other options," Hermione said. "We just need to contact Phantom and have him send a message to Dumbledore. Or at least arrange a meeting without Umbridge."
Harry instantly peaked up.
"Great! Now I've just got to find him." Harry realized that while he had the occasional meeting with Phantom at Hogwarts, it had never been anything that could be called 'regular'. Still, with the Marauder's Map-
"I heard someone say my name," a new voice spoke up. The trio turned to look at the source, Phantom, sticking his head through the floor of the common room. His eyes were locked on Harry's hand, soaking in the murtlap essence.
"Can you run a message to Dumbledore?" Ron asked, jumping to the heart of the matter immediately.
"Sure. What needs to be said?" Danny asked.
"Professor Umbridge is subjecting Harry to torture under the guise of detention," Hermione explained. "She has this enchanted quill, or maybe she enchants the quill before the detention because I can't imagine that her spell would be legal, and then makes Harry write with it. It inflicts some sort of pain curse, Harry has described it as comparable to the Cruciatus Curse, and leaves the hand cramping for hours afterwards."
"And that's why he's soaking his hand in that stuff?" Danny asked, eyes finally leaving the hand. Hermione nodded.
"Can you run that to Dumbledore now?" Ron asked.
"Sure," Danny answered. "Do you know where he might be at this time?"
"He's in his office," Harry answered. "Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah," Danny replied. "I'll run the message."
"What did you say?" Dumbledore asked.
Danny Phantom could feel the air grow colder in the headmaster's office. There was an invisible weight on his shoulders and all around him; he could taste the energy crackling in the air. The chair creaked, the walls creaked, and Danny thought he saw them bend.
"Um... Uh, according to Harry, Umbridge is torturing Harry under the guise of detention," Danny replied. "Something about a quill that does a pain curse."
Dumbledore took a deep breath and Danny felt the pressure vanish.
"Thank you for passing this along," the headmaster told the ghost. "I will look into this matter."
Her office was dark when Umbridge arrived. Her alarm spells had been triggered at this ungodly hour of the morning, before the sun had peaked up again, when all decent, law-abiding people should be in bed. However students, as that was the most likely identity of the culprit/culprits, were notorious for ignoring such niceties.
Her wand was out and the door creaked as she opened it, hoping to catch the intruder in the act of ruffling through her stuff.
"Ah, Professor Umbridge, I was hoping to talk with you," the intruder spoke up, from her chair. The waning moonlight painted his beard an ethereal silver and there was a tiny glint off of his half-moon spectacles. He was toying with something, playing it between his fingers.
"Professor Dumbledore," Umbridge said, immediately dropping into her usual honey dripping tone. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You can have a seat," a chair was suddenly behind Umbridge, ramming into her, and pulling her up to her own desk, "and listen to an old man's musings."
"Uh- Surely Professor-"
"Oh, it is a small matter," Dumbledore said, allowing the black quill between his fingers to be illuminated in the moonlight. "I'm sure that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has time to listen."
Umbridge did not gulp. That would betray her guilt. In situations like the current she would profess innocence of any wrong doing, either hiding behind technicalities or using outright lies to defend herself. Whatever accusation Dumbledore was about to throw her way could be dealt with.
"It concerns certain, shall we say, vulnerabilities regarding the staff," Dumbledore continued. "See, if someone were attempting to subvert the Ministry-"
Umbridge had been planning on getting some sort of evidence that Dumbledore was planning his own rebellion. To that end she had placed several spell upon herself, which activated in the presence of Dumbledore, to record everything he said, to catch anything that could make him look bad. She had felt them activate when she entered the office.
Now she realized that they were no longer functioning.
"- here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore pressed onwards, "certain staff would might prove a liability. I would be unable to tell if any... unsavory actions they might undertake are the result of their will and their will alone. Do you know how easily some people's wills and bodies may be subverted?"
Umbridge felt her arm start to move of her own accord. Her breath caught in her throat and she struggled against it. Dumbledore did not move. He made no indication that he was doing anything other than play with the quill.
"You see there are so many ways to control people outside of the Imperious Curse," Dumbledore went on. "I myself have encountered at least two dozen that could be used to break one's control of their will and body. And who knows how many methods those who tread the dark paths might know of."
Umbridge found herself staring at the point of her own wand, aimed right at her eye. She whimpered and tried to point it away to no avail.
"Oh, and once a wizard or witch has taken control of their victim there are so many things that can be done with them. There are even ways to seize control of their magic. Did you know that?" Dumbledore's tone remained conversational, but the twinkle in his eye had become a tiny, terrible, unwavering star. Umbridge tried to scream, but found herself having trouble even breathing. "Well, one might say that when you have control of another's will you have control of their magic. But that's such a simplification. They cannot cast any spells that were previously outside of their ability. No, no, those who would do such a thing must be creative."
Umbridge felt sensations run out of her hand like cold egg yolk running down her skin and leaving nothing but a numb tingling that became nothing quickly.
"See there are ways that body and soul interact," Dumbledore leaned forward. He reached out with one finger and put it on the back end of her wand. "And how the wand interprets things. If a wizard or witch was to cut off signals from the nervous system in someone's hand, then theoretically, any wand held there would be viable to cast spells, but completely directionless. If that dastardly witch or wizard were to find some way to exert their own will on the wand, say touch it gently, then they would be able to cast spells with the victim's own power."
The end of Umbridge's wand began to glow with a fiery red power, casting Dumbledore's face into dreadful relief. She could feel the heat play along her face as she stared into the merciless eyes of the headmaster.
"And the dastardly witch or wizard would not be limited by their victim's skill either; any spell that they could cast they could use the victim to cast." The light and heat grew and Umbridge couldn't even sob.
And then it vanished. Umbridge felt her wand hand flop down and hit the desk with a thud. She clutched it to her chest, staring fearfully at Dumbledore.
"Of course this is all entirely hypothetical," Dumbledore went on as if nothing had happened. "Just like the question of what to do if I, say, found an item in the office of the Defense Professor that seemed to be wickedly enchanted. Thank goodness that nothing of the sort has occurred." The quill glowed orange and broke apart into a small flurry of sparks. "It would be nearly as distressing as finding out that a professor had been made into a decaying thrall of another's will."
Umbridge whimpered.
"Good morning to you professor," Dumbledore smiled, nodded, got up and left the office.
Albus Dumbledore tried to ignore the small warming presence of pleasure as he made his way back to his quarters. He should not take pleasure in scaring those less powerful than him; lording strength over others like that was the first steps on many paths that lead to nowhere but the darkest places. If he had felt there to be a better way to limit her sadistic tendencies towards students then he would have taken it. What he did was regrettable, but short of something along the lines of the Imperious Curse, was the best option for dealing with her.
So know he would not allow himself to feel any pleasure at what he did.
He would, however, let himself feel a small bit of amusement at the fact that Umbridge would never know just how much of his little speech had been clever illusion and utter bollocks.
Harry arrived at detention the next day without having heard word from Dumbledore. Phantom had mentioned that he had passed the message along, but Harry hadn't heard anything since from Phantom either.
Umbridge was waiting for him, but not in her usual manner. She seemed... distraught. Large bags dropped under her eyes, her hair was disheveled, and she occasionally twitched. Her desk and office were in a state of disarray.
It took her a moment to notice that he had walked into the office.
"MR. POTter," she said, briefly losing control of her voice. "I-I-I think that we've wasted enough of my time with these sessions. If-f-f-f the lesson has not sunk in by now, it will not sink in at all and I can b-b-better spend my time on more pressing matters. You are dismissed."
Harry turned around and left her office without saying a word.
He didn't know what to think. For the first time he could recall, an authority figure had taken care of the problem without Harry's help. There had been times when they had cleaned up the messes left behind by the various problems he had encountered, after he had done the bulk of the work. Or aiding him in doing the bulk of the work. But actually taking care of the problem? Maybe behind the scenes, but each year it had been Harry's job.
Honestly Harry felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under him. He had given it a try not expecting it to work, because that never worked.
Was this a fluke? Or maybe he should have tried trusting Dumbledore and McGonagall more?
It was something to think about.
At the end of the week Danny received a note from Dumbledore. This would not have been a strange event if it wasn't for the fact that it was Danny Fenton who received the note, rather than Phantom.
"I don't have any idea what it's about," the halfa said, sitting next to Sam on a bench, in a corridor outside of the Great Hall. "But I don't think it's anything good."
"Well, if it's any consolation, I got one too," Sam said, holding out a piece of paper. "Same time as you."
They glanced at each other.
"Well, maybe it's not anything too bad? I mean if we're both going to be there?" Sam suggested. "I mean I don't think he would... reveal anything if he wasn't sure that I already knew."
"Well, we hope," Danny replied.
Hours passed and then it was time to go. Danny and Sam met at the statue that marked the entrance, spoke the password that was on the note, and then got on the stairs. They entered the office and found Dumbledore waiting for them, a twinkle in his eyes, and two chairs in front of his desk.
Danny hoped that he wouldn't use Legilimency on the two of them, even the light brushes that Dumbledore had mentioned using to Phantom. It would give away Danny's secret right away. He needed to act casual. And he needed to look like he wasn't trying to act casual, so that meant he would have to be even more casual, but not too casual because that would give it away, so...
Okay. That wasn't going to work. He needed a new plan.
Maybe he should just act like he always did in the dean's office. More sullen then nervous.
"Would either of you two like a lemon drop," Dumbledore offered after they had been seated. They both shook their heads in refusal. "And there's no need to be nervous Mr. Fenton. I called you two up here mainly to make sure that your unique situation wasn't negatively affecting your time here at Hogwarts."
"Our unique situation?" Sam asked.
"Given the status of your home town and the controversy it, and Mr. Fenton's parents, have caused within the wizarding world, it would not be too surprising to see that some of the students, or even the staff, are treating you poorly," Dumbledore explained. "I felt it would be prudent to check with you two to see if that was the case."
"Well, uh," Danny began, "well, the staff haven't treated us any different than any of the other students..." Other than dragging an alter ego kicking and screaming into a history class.
"Though some of the Slytherin students have been throwing racial slurs at me," Sam added. "But from what I gather, they do that to everyone from muggle families."
"I apologize for that," Dumbledore replied. "That is the current central issue of our times, and we are doing all we can on that front. But nothing worse than what the other students are dealing with? That is good to hear."
Danny opened his mouth to make a comment, but realized that he would be acting too familiar with the headmaster. He was a transfer student who previously had very little contact with the man, not the spirit helping to fight the war.
And could he not fidget! He didn't want to raise any suspicion. And- oh no, Dumbledore was raising an eyebrow at him.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Fenton?" The old man asked.
"No, just memories," Danny replied. "I got sent to the dean's office way too much back home."
"Well, at least Lancer started to warm up to you," Sam added. "But, yeah, Dash kept getting him into trouble."
"And Dash is a friend, I take it?" Dumbledore inquired.
"No, just a bully," Sam said. "He was always picking on Danny. He never got in trouble because of his position on the football team."
"Ah, yes, the failings of school systems when they start to prioritize sport over education," Dumbledore leaned back and sighed. "Thankfully, due to the fact that we are the only school of magic in the British Isles we only engage in sport among our own houses, and thus do not depend on it financially. Still, I must be sure, you have no complaints about how the staff has been treating you compared to the other students."
"No," Danny said. "They've been fairer then the teachers back home."
"Well that is good to hear," Dumbledore said. "Then I must apologize for taking your time and bid the two of you a good day."
As the two of them left, Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth. Danny Fenton, despite his fidgeting, had resembled Danny Phantom very much during that conversation. Yet more evidence towards the theory that Phantom was based off of Fenton.
Dumbledore wondered if he should ever bring it up to the spirit. He idly wondered if the spirit would be at all startled if he started talking about his connection with Mr. Fenton.
That weekend Danny received the much more normal occurrence of Dumbledore sending a message to Phantom. He let out a little groan when he received it, knowing that he would miss out on his much needed weekend rest. But still, great responsibility and all that.
He wished that there was a portal to the Ghost Zone at Hogwarts, but that would just be too convenient. No, instead he'd have to fly all the way from Hogwarts to London and then Grimmauld Place. And then he'd have to stay awake through the briefing or meeting, and then maybe have time to catch a nap and get back to school so that he could do homework he really wasn't qualified to do yet.
Ah the life of a superhero.
Still, when the time rolled around Danny found himself in their usual meeting spot in their London hideout, floating above the heads of the assembled members of the order. Dumbledore projected a map of France into the air.
"I believe I might have a clue as to our enemy's plans," Dumbledore addressed the assembled wizards, witches, and spirits. "And what we discover during our next operation will prove it."
Five spots lit up on the map.
"We will be operating in the region, between this road that connects Albert and Bapuame, and the village of Gommecourt," Dumbledore said. "We have five locations that will likely contain the circles we've been after, though three of them are thought to be decoys. The enemy has been secretly fortifying these positions and we have reason to suspect that there will be a substantial Death Eater presence, along with several of their non-human allies."
"What is more," Dumbledore continued, "they will know that we are coming soon. We have a less than a week to prepare, the exact date will be chosen randomly to prevent any leaks or loss of intelligence."
There was a clamor at that statement, everyone started groaning, talking, and shouting at once. Dumbledore let the noise persist for a good twenty seconds, and then as it began to die down, he spoke up again, causing everyone else to fall silent.
"I know that this is a risky plan," he said to those assembled. "But it must be done. This is our best opportunity to shut down Voldemort's plan and gain vital intelligence. Everyone in this room fully knew the risks when they signed up for this fight. If anyone feels like we are asking too much with this endeavor, then you should leave now, without shame. For it is one thing to risk uncertain death when the odds could go either way and quite another to march to one's certain death."
Nobody made a move to leave.
Dumbledore bowed his head.
"I see. But none of you brave folk should dismay, we will be going in prepared. We will have several tricks up our sleeves for this operation. Each group will be given unique equipment and preparations that you will be briefed on after being divided up. Questions about the operation should wait until you receive your intelligence about your assigned spot. Alastor will handle assignments. Please form an orderly queue to receive your information."
As everyone started to get up Dumbledore said one more thing.
"And may I say, to many of our new members, I have worked with brave men and women before, heroes of their generation in the last war. I think they would be honored to have you stand with them."
"Phantom, you've got special orders," Moody told Danny when he reached the front of the line. "Go talk with Dumbledore and the Fentons. They've got something special for you, down in the lab."
Danny nodded and flew off.
He paused just outside the entrance to the lab, where his parents and Dumbledore were waiting within.
"Well come on," Maddie said. "Get in here. We don't have all day."
"No way," Danny shook his head. "You've still got the defenses up."
"Oh, but I thought that you knew a way around them," Jack smirked. "You were bragging about it earlier."
"Yeah, but- I'm not going to give away my tricks to you two," Danny shot back. "Besides, you two have probably added them."
"Jack, Maddie," Dumbledore interjected. "Please let him in."
"Fine," Maddie said, rolling her eyes and flipping a switch. Danny felt the energies in front of him die down and then cautiously floated into the room.
"Mr. Moody said that you had special orders for me?" Danny asked, once he was sure that his parents weren't going to spring a nasty surprise on him.
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "You will be providing general support to all groups, at your discretion, and retrieving the wounded within the theater of operation. Mr and Mrs Fenton here have kindly agreed to help you with that task."
"I'm sure that you're familiar with the Ecto-Skeleton, considering that you stole it for your little fight with Pariah," Maddie began. "And I'm sure, by now, you're familiar with the little surprise we included."
"No, uh, actually," Danny rubbed the back of his neck, "right after I resealed Dark, the Wisconsin Ghost sort of stole it from me while I was too tired to move. What's the surprise?"
"Oh, just a self destruct mechanism that activates if the suit doesn't receive the proper codes before being taken a certain distance away from our laboratory," Maddie explained, turning around to a pile of equipment on a nearby table.
Well that explained why Vlad hadn't shown any signs of using it since that day. That was a relief.
"But, back to the topic," Maddie continued, "Albus requested that we whip up another suit that you could interface with. It's nowhere near as powerful as the Ecto-Skeleton, but it doesn't involve the same sort of un-life draining properties that the original had." Maddie's tone made it clear that she considered that a bad thing in the current instance. She pulled out a group of equipment, bound together with some firm and a jointed metal. The contraption resembled a vest and gloves, with a circular glowing power source right over where the chest would go.
"Though we lack the hard data to confirm, we are very confident that this should greatly increase your durability and speed," Maddie told the halfa, "Allowing you to cover the battlefield. We didn't give it any offensive capabilities, because honestly you are offensive enough already-"
"And we've included a kill switch that should paralyze you if you seem like you're going rouge," Jack added. "Or if you get mind controlled. Whichever is more likely."
Danny held it up. It wasn't very fashionable, but he could use the boost.
"How draining is it?" He asked his parents.
"At full power, everything you do will take twice as much energy," Maddie told him. "But optimal use is at two-thirds power, which should only increase the difficulty of your actions by half."
"But two-thirds-" Danny began, before Jack cut him off.
"Power consumption doesn't scale linearly with this device," he told the halfa. "Up until half power, you'll mainly be providing energy to regulate the generator. Self-sustaining ectoplamsic reactions, but potentially unstable. It's heavily armored, but try not to get hit there. You'll ruin all our hard work. And scatter yourself over several miles, but that's the lesser loss."
Danny rolled his eyes. He would have to spend some time testing the suit to make sure that there weren't any little, inconsequential, incredibly painful bugs in the suit.
AN: Yeah, had to divert my time to my other story to get through an awkward arc. Can't believe that it's been around a year since I last updated this.
I'd like to thank Magnive for betaing.
:AN