Chapter 2: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
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A week later announced Danny's return to Casper Magical Seminary; it was his seventh and final year. Excitement vibrated through him, sending tremors through his spine at the prospect that soon he would be free to do what he wanted without a professor breathing down his neck and scrutinising every wave of his wand, or have Dash Baxter lauding over him whenever he zipped past on his Nimbus 2001 broomstick.
Wedged in the centre of an oblivious no-maj town called Amity Park, Casper Magical Seminary was the smallest of the elite four. It was only two stories high with a red-brick and marble façade that preceded over a large Quidditch pitch on the far side of the fields. Constructed under the order of the MACUSA in the mid-fifties following a regime to promote wizard relations with no-maj society, it was the only school in America that didn't offer boarding. Instead, all its student commuted, either by Floo powder or side-along apparition. Danny, who lived just a few blocks away, walked.
Dodging past no-majs on their way to work, chatting away on clunky black blocks with antennas, he passed through the enchanted gates and trundled up the front steps just as the warning bell rang.
'Danny!' a voice called. Sam was waving a hand at him over a pair of dawdling third years.
Her uniform, in contrast to Danny's white button down, red argyle sweater-vest and pressed navy pants, was dyed pitch-black. Her boots thumped heavily as she came to a halt beside Danny, snatching his arm in a grip so tight that it made him wince.
'Er, hey, Sam. How was your vacation break?" he asked. She ignored him, tugging incessantly at his arm.
'C'mon,' she whispered excitedly, nearly bouncing in her boots, 'All the seniors are being called into the Great Hall – they've got some sort of big announcement!'
Before he could reply, she was already dragging him through the corridors. The Great Hall was a large room, with trees and flowers that burst from the walls in flourishes of colour. Beams of sunshine tumbled through the canopy, sending light bouncing off large bronze tables speckled throughout. A long bench that looked to be carved from the gnarled root of an ancient oak tree stood at the front of the room. Danny looked around to see the rest of the seventh graders and a few of the sixth graders milling around, murmuring to each other with confusion evident on their faces. Sam and Danny took a seat at one of the tables at the back of the room.
Headmistress Ishiyama stood at the front with Professor Tetslaff, a boorish woman who was renowned for giving physically arduous detentions, and another older man who Danny thought looked outlandish even by wizarding standards. Ishiyama was a stout woman with slick black hair and neat midnight-blue robes and who appeared rather underwhelming next to the strange wizard dressed in an eclectic mix of mulberry and apricot, complete with a tall, forest-green hat perched on top of his head. His silvery beard was so long that he had tucked it into the belt wrapped around his waist and a pair of half-moon glasses were perched on top of a nose that looked quite crooked, like it had been broken but never properly fixed.
Ishiyama raised a hand and the room quickly fell silent, "I would first like to say welcome back, students, to our esteemed school. You might be under the belief that this will be your final year attending Casper Magical Seminary, however, I am here to announce that this first month may be your last.'
Danny and Sam shared a look. Ishiyama appeared almost boastful, her chest swelling with pride and authority, Tetslaff looked the same. But it was the old man that made him pause – he was staring right at him, with sharp blue eyes that seemed as if they were boring into his soul.
Danny looked away.
Ishiyama nodded to Tetslaff, who pulled out an old piece of parchment and barked out, 'Casper has been given the opportunity to participate in a centuries-old tradition of the newly renamed Tetrawizard Tournament, held on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One student is selected from each of the four competing schools and claimed as champion, where they will be faced with three challenges…'
Danny already knew this, the letter from the mysterious man named Dumbledore had already told him enough that he shouldn't have any part in it. He had thought about it all last week – it had kept him up at night, but in the end, he knew he wouldn't be able to go. Amity Park was his home, and ever since the 'accident' in fourth grade he knew he couldn't go even if he had wanted to leave.
Sam pinched his arm, making him yelp loudly. A few juniors looked over and sniggered, but he ignored them, 'Ouch! What was that for, Sam?'
'The assembly is over,' she said, standing up, 'Here. Tetslaff came around while you were daydreaming and gave us our schedules.'
Danny unfurled the slip of parchment she offered and moaned, 'Aw, man! I've got double History of American Magic first up! Then Arithmancy, followed by double Mysteries of Magical Maladies! That's Lancer, Felucca and Tetslaff all in one day!'
Sam whistled low, 'Aren't they your worst classes? That's tough.'
'Not to mention I only have Astronomy on Thursdays… at two in the morning. What have you got?' Danny mumbled hopefully.
Sam looked down at her sheet sadly, 'I don't think we've got any classes together this year. I've got No-maj Studies, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures today.'
Danny gave another forlorn groan, slumping further into his chair. He jumped when a voice barked out, 'Fenton!'
Tetslaff was making her way over with a crease between her heavy brows. The strange old man was gliding not far behind.
Danny rose and was surprised to find that the old man stood nearly as tall as him. Tetslaff was only a few inches shorter but was much more imposing with her stern frown and bulging muscles.
'This is Professor Albus Dumbledore,' Tetslaff began, 'He apparently needs to talk to you. Manson, get to class.'
Sam scowled deeply before sending a worried look in Danny's direction. He gave her a wavering smile and she reluctantly left the hall with the other students. Danny turned to look at Dumbledore, feeling a little stunned. This was the man that send him the letter about the tournament? What could he possibly want from him?
'So, what've you done this time, Fenton?' Tetslaff scowled shoving a finger in Danny's face, 'I've warned you before about your idiotic pranks and now the Headmaster of Hogwarts – which is in England, might I add – wants to have a word with you? You're lucky if you don't end up in detention for the rest of the year after this!'
Danny felt his innards sink into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't even attended one class yet and he was already bound to be scrubbing the bathrooms without magic until he graduated – if he graduated.
'No, no, Professor, you have yourself confused. Mr Fenton isn't in any trouble,' Dumbledore said. He had a soft voice that spoke with an underlying tone of authority, 'I just need to talk to him on some matters pertaining to him in private. I expect it will take quite a great deal of time, would you be so kind as to excuse him for the rest of the day?'
'The rest of the day?' Tetslaff sputtered as if Dumbledore had just announced blasphemy, 'But the school year has just started!'
Dumbledore nodded his head, 'I am aware that the school year has begun, but this conversation is of uttermost importance and I need to speak to Mr Fenton with a rather dire urgency.'
'If you need to speak to one of our students, we have ones with much better records. Maybe someone who actually has a chance of passing his classes—'
Danny, who was used to this treatment said nothing, but Dumbledore gave a soft frown.
'No, thank you,' he replied diplomatically, 'Mr. Fenton is exactly the wizard I need. In fact, it might surprise you how capable he is if given the right guidance. I expect that you will fill him in on any work his missed today when he returns.'
Before Tetslaff could reply, Dumbledore placed a hand on Danny's shoulder and led him out of the room, humming softly to himself. Danny didn't dare glance back even as they stepped out past the Quidditch pitch to the copse of trees on the far side of the school.
'Er, sir? What did you need to speak to me about?' Danny asked, feeling rather off-kilter.
Dumbledore shook his head, the tall hat waggling about, 'Not here, Mr Fenton. We might be overheard. Now, please, if you would hold onto my arm. That's right, hold it tightly and make certain that you don't let go.'
'What—?'
Before he could finish an uncomfortable sensation overcame Danny, as if he was being stretched thin like taffy and stuffed through a narrow tube. The world whirled around him in a vivid splash of colours before it all came to a ramming halt. His knees buckled, sending him stumbling into a nearby wall, breath harsh and head spinning.
'Where are we?' he gasped, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. There were buildings looming over forty stories high. Yellow taxis littered the congested streets and people shouted angrily at each other through car windows, honking horns. Tourists were ambling about, heads bent over large maps with disposable cameras wrapped around their throats, 'Are we in New York?'
'We are indeed, Mr Fenton,' Dumbledore said not looking at all put-out, 'Come. Why don't we try and find a place that serves tea? It would be best to try and calm our nerves before we face the MACUSA.'
'The MACUSA?' Danny asked, flabbergasted, 'What are we meeting them for? Are you sure I'm not in trouble?'
Dumbledore chuckled softly, 'Certainly not, Mr Fenton. Now come along, I believe somebody once told me that there is a charming café a few streets down from Madison Avenue that serves the most wonderful finger sandwiches.'
The Headmaster strode onto the pavement, giving a jaunty hello to a passing local, who grunted in his direction. Danny followed, feeling rather conspicuous in his school uniform walking with a man in purple and orange robes. Nobody seemed to pay any attention, however; the tourists were all too busy pointing at landmarks and the locals just didn't seem to care.
The café was far from what Danny would call charming. Tucked behind a narrow alleyway, it was old and run down with paint peeling off the walls and the carpet was covered in ambiguous stains and overall smelt faintly of cats. Dumbledore seated himself into one of the tables farthest from the door, picking up a coffee-stained menu and peeling the pages open.
'Please pick whatever you like, Mr Fenton.'
He offered a menu out to Danny who grimaced. 'No, I'm good.'
Dumbledore turned back to his own menu. A waiter looking very bored strode over, pulling a stub of a pencil from behind his ear.
'Wha'cha want?' he asked brusquely.
'I think a nice cup of chamomile tea would do nicely, thank you. And a platter of cucumber sandwiches.'
The waiter turned to Danny, 'You?'
'Nothing, thanks.'
The waiter left and Dumbledore placed the menu back on the table, being careful not to lean his elbow into a mysterious puddle by the cutlery pot.
'I have to admit that I am surprised. You are not at all like how I expected you to be.' Dumbledore smiled at Danny's expression, 'Do not look so concerned. It is by far an improvement from what I had initially envisioned.'
'What were you expecting me to be like?'
Dumbledore untucked a newspaper from the sleeve of his robe like magic, and Danny wouldn't have been surprised if it had been some sort of concealing charm. Dumbledore calmly flattened it on the table and Danny found himself staring at a blurred image of a boy that looked remarkably similar to him, but the dark hair was white and the figure's eyes glowed an ethereal green.
His tongue turned to sandpaper as he stared at the photograph. The article was dated almost three years ago with the headline, 'Danny Phantom: Hero or Hoax?'
'What's this got to do with me?' Danny choked out.
'You don't have to feign ignorance, Mr Fenton,' Dumbledore said in a reassuring voice, those blue eyes piercing into his again, 'I have no plans to expose your secret, not after seeing the lengths you've taken to conceal it.'
The waiter returned, thumping down a chipped cup and saucer and a plate of poorly cut sandwiches. Danny snatched the newspaper from off the table with bated breath as the waiter turned away, disappearing into the kitchen.
'Ah, for shame. They left the crust on.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Danny growled low, glaring at Dumbledore.
But the older man didn't seem to hear him, lifting his tea to his lips, 'It took me a long time to make the connection myself. I will admit that I only came across your identity by sheer coincidence. You see, after the passing of my good friend Nicholas Flammel—'
Danny frowned, 'Flammel? Didn't he create some sort of Sorcerer's stone that gave eternal life?'
Dumbledore eyebrows rose as he murmured, 'The Philosopher's stone, yes… After he died, I decided to research different manners of approaching immortality – for educational purposes only,' he added quickly at Danny's aghast expression, 'I searched throughout entire libraries for answers not finding a single hint, when one day I came across a simple muggle magazine while buying sweets.'
'Muggle?' Danny asked, the word feeling foreign on his tongue.
'No-maj,' Dumbledore clarified, 'On the cover, I saw a picture of a boy with his family, and a photograph of a gorilla; believed to be only one of two of its kind. This story stood out to me because the purple-backed gorilla is actually not endangered at all but thriving in a magical sanctuary in East Africa – but that's beside the point.'
The older man took another sip of his tea. Danny stared at him with wide eyes, his knuckles white as they gripped the lip of the suspiciously sticky table. Dumbledore returned the cup to his saucer before reaching for a sandwich. Danny gave the hand a quick slap, making the man withdraw with a twinkle in his eyes.
'What's the point then?' Danny snapped impatiently, dragging the plate out of Dumbledore's grasp.
'Oh, yes. Well, the article offered an interesting background of information pertaining your parents' careers, including all of their most prominent accomplishments and creations, particularly one which was believed to be a 'gateway' of sorts?'
'The Ghost Portal?'
Dumbledore smiled tolerantly as if a toddler had just told him the sky was blue, 'Yes, I do believe that was what it was called. It spurred me on to make further discoveries about what your parents were capable of and, in my research, I discovered quite a few anomalies – far too many for me to overlook. It was then that I discovered that you and your terrible attendance record and poor grades coincided with many prominent appearances of the infamous Danny Phantom.'
Dumbledore laced his fingers together and stared at him hard, 'One such appearance was the capture of a highly dangerous dark wizard, Hellacroix Hudson, the exact same day you skipped out on your Charms exam with no reasonable excuse.'
'That still doesn't prove anything,' Danny gritted out. He could feel the blood rushing from his face, leaving him light-headed.
'No,' Dumbledore admitted, 'But it was what led me to notice you, Danny – obviously your likeness, but also your attitude and determination. Especially now it is discordantly obvious.'
Dumbledore leaned across the table and plucked a sandwich from the plate, taking a polite bite. Danny stared at him for a long time.
'What do you want?' he asked eventually.
Dumbledore smiled, 'Nothing.'
'Nothing?' Danny spat.
'I have no want for anything as of right now, however, there has been a request from the Ministry for you to submit your services. Or, to put it more transparently, they want Phantom.'
Danny glanced nervously over his shoulder at the empty room before hissing out, 'Why now? What would the MACUSA need from me? I haven't done anything!'
Dumbledore shook his head, 'No, Mr Fenton, it is not the MACUSA in need of your services.'
'But you just said—'
'Prominent members of the British Ministry of Magic have requested for you personally to be transferred to help in the aid and capture of a wizard that has escaped from Azkaban. There is a meeting at MACUSA Headquarters concerning it starting in about… oh, ten minutes or so.'
'British? As in England? I can't go there!'
'Don't worry, you'll mostly be in Scotland.'
Danny didn't find that detail to be as comforting as Dumbledore obviously thought.
'I'm pretty sure people would notice if I suddenly decided to take a hop, skip and a jump across the pond the exact same time as Danny Phantom!'
'It would be far less suspicious if you were to attend the Tetrawizard Tournament with the rest of your classmates. After all, you are the sole reason I reintroduced the competition.'
Danny stared at him, overwhelmed, 'Wait a minute, you brought back the tournament just to keep my secret? A tournament that's been banned for, like… three hundred years?'
'Precisely that.'
He scrubbed his hands across his face roughly, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on before he heaved a groan, 'Do I get a choice?'
'Mr. Fenton,' Dumbledore stared at him with hard eyes, 'Everyone has a choice, but it's up to you to decide whether you believe that choice is the right one or simply the one with the least consequences.'
'Well, what would you do then?'
'Myself? I would have another cucumber sandwich,' Dumbledore admitted. Danny couldn't tell if he was being serious, but disgruntledly shoved the platter toward the table.
'Thank you, my dear boy.' Dumbledore granted him with a sincere smile as he picked up a square, carefully tearing off the crust and popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly. Tucking his hand back into his sleeve, he pulled out a palmful of crisp no-maj notes and placed them on the filthy tabletop.
'Remind me never to take hospitality recommendations from Elphric Fundwrest. I am concerned he will be having me bunking with a banshee next,' he turned to Danny, 'Should I return you home?'
'No,' Danny said finitely, 'Let's go visit the MACUSA.'
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