Amity Park, USA.
FentonWorks.
"Are you sure, Sam?"
"Yes." A gothic girl could be heard saying as they wandered around the empty laboratory. The adults had gone out shopping, looking dejected as Danny looked to his best friends, even as Sam added, "Your parents will be extra happy if they come home to find it does work."
"But they did say we're not allowed in the lab without them being present. We'll be in big trouble if we're caught. And Jazz is the biggest tattle going when she's home from school."
"Yeah, what was the school's name again? Wogharts?"
"I… I can't say, Tuck. Sorry."
9-Year-Old Danny Fenton looked at the giant hole in the wall opposite the door and frowned. His parents, as eccentric as they were, had spent much of his life building it, claiming that it would 'finally prove ghosts were real' and lead to a whole new dimension, The Ghost Zone, as they called it. Danny couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he gazed at the gaping hole in the wall. He always knew his parents' obsession with the supernatural had reached a new level with this latest experiment, even as he zipped up the smallest HAZMAT suit and stood in front of the portal's entrance, grimacing at the obnoxiously large sticker of his dad's face before it was ripped off the fabric and crumpled up into a ball.
Something in his mind told him this was an idiotic idea as he gazed into the inky blackness of the portal's depths and stepped into it, his vision gradually adapting to the low-light conditions within the cavernous chamber. He observed an intricate network of wires, circuits, and metallic components lining the walls, creating a complex tapestry of technology. Illuminated panels displaying complex symbols and readouts captured his attention, and their soft glow cast an eerie ambience throughout the space. At the centre of the room stood a large cylindrical structure, pulsating with an otherworldly green luminescence that seemed to ebb and flow like a living entity.
As Danny proceeded further inside, his footsteps echoing in the vast chamber, he noticed unusual, swirling patterns etched into the metallic surfaces surrounding him. These intricate designs appear to be a fusion of advanced circuitry and ancient, mystical symbols, hinting at the portal's mysterious origins. The atmosphere felt charged with an otherworldly energy, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. A faint humming resonates through the air, growing in intensity as he approaches the central structure.
Unexpectedly, his foot became entangled in a loose cable that snaked across the floor. As he lost his balance, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to regain stability, his hand instinctively extended to stabilise himself. In that heart-stopping instant, his fingers inadvertently made contact with a prominent red button on a nearby control panel.
The portal activated with a deafening roar, and a powerful surge of ectoplasmic energy permeated the chamber. The once-dim room is suddenly awash in a brilliant, pulsating light that seems to emanate from every surface. A verdant, luminous mist began to materialise from thin air, swirling and coalescing around Danny as the ectoplasm was released into the atmosphere. The mist thickened rapidly, obscuring his vision and enveloping him in its ethereal embrace.
Danny's heart raced as he felt the energy coursing through his body, tingling every nerve ending. The swirling patterns on the walls seemed to come alive, spinning and undulating in a hypnotic dance. The cylindrical structure at the centre of the room begins to rotate, its green glow intensifying to an almost blinding level. As the ectoplasmic mist continued to engulf him, Danny realised with a mixture of awe and trepidation that he had inadvertently set in motion events beyond his comprehension, potentially opening a gateway to realms unknown.
Then he screamed as the electricity finally made its presence known, his friends also making noise as he stumbled blindly and fell onto the soothingly cool floor, embracing the blackness that beckoned. As the darkness of unconsciousness engulfed him, he thought he heard a screaming in the back of his mind.
Little Whinging, Surrey, United Kingdom.
Number 4, Privet Drive.
Harry gasped as a wave of pain suddenly ripped through his hand, causing the plate to shatter on the ground as he lost his grip. Dropping the tea towel he'd been using, he gripped his hand and tried to suppress the scream that tried to tear out of his throat. The searing pain was overwhelming as he tried to avoid alerting his aunt and uncle in the next room.
The pain grew until it felt like he was being electrocuted from within, and a whimper escaped him before he could stop it. He knew he needed to clean up the mess before his aunt and uncle found out, but the pain was too much to bear. Desperate, he glanced around for something to help numb the agony, only to stumble over the shattered crockery, causing him to lose his footing, slip, and fall onto the floor, screams tearing from his throat as he was unable to hold them back any longer. As he lay there, writhing in pain and fear, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Panic set in as he realised his aunt and uncle were about to discover his predicament. With no other choice, he mustered all his strength to try and compose himself before they entered, only for an inky blackness to envelop him before he embraced it and let it consume him completely.
The sound of the door slamming open reverberated through the kitchen with a deafening crash, causing the dishes in the cupboards to rattle ominously. Uncle Vernon's thunderous voice boomed, filling every corner of the room with his unbridled fury, "What in blazes is going on in here, boy?" His face, already an alarming shade of puce, seemed to darken further as he surveyed the chaos before him.
Aunt Petunia's shrill gasp pierced the air, cutting through the tension like a knife. Her bony hands flew to her mouth as she took in the scene of utter devastation: shards of broken crockery littered the floor like a mosaic of destruction, and her nephew lay sprawled amidst the wreckage, looking for all the world like a discarded ragdoll.
Harry, barely clinging to consciousness, could only manage a weak groan as his relatives loomed over him. Their imposing figures cast long shadows across his prone form, their faces a kaleidoscope of emotions ranging from anger to confusion to a hint of something that might have been a concern had it not been quickly masked by their usual disdain.
Uncle Vernon's bushy moustache quivered with barely contained rage as he struggled to form words, his mind racing to comprehend the scene before him. Aunt Petunia, her horse-like face contorted into an expression of horror and disgust, wrung her hands nervously, her eyes darting between her nephew and her precious, now ruined, kitchenware.
The air in the kitchen grew thick with tension, the silence broken only by the occasional tinkle of a shard of pottery settling on the floor and Harry's laboured breathing. The Dursleys stood frozen, caught between their instinctual desire to berate their nephew and the growing realisation that something was seriously amiss. As the seconds ticked by, the gravity of the situation began to sink in, and the anger in their eyes slowly gave way to a reluctant concern they would never admit to feeling as the adults surrounded the young boy and, with a gentleness they only ever showed their son, Dudley, tended to their nephew's prone body. Petunia cradled Harry's head in her lap, her hands trembling as she brushed his hair away from his face to reveal the old scar they'd told him was the result of his parents being drunkards. Vernon knelt beside them, his gruff exterior melting away to reveal a flicker of worry in his eyes.
Aww, A little bit of the Dursleys showing compassion for their nephew.
It won't last. SORRY!
I also decided that Jazz would be a student at Hogwarts.
I'm just gonna skip ahead to the Hogwarts Letter arriving in the next chapter. I'm sorry but these chapters are just fillers/childhood chapters for the two boys. Most of them have been based in England and I'm sorry. It's been fun though, I'll admit.
Hermione Jean Burton