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five-rivers · 2 years

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Detection (true version)

This is the second version of this prompt I've written. I decided I liked this take better. Like the other one, it is a loose continuation of Flight Simulation.

Prompt by @faedemon: Ghosts are naturally drawn to death. When people die in Amity Park, Danny keeps finding the bodies. (PR263)

"You know," said Detective Collins conversationally, "if most of these guys hadn't been dead longer than you've been alive, I'd be wondering if you were some kind of serial killer."

Danny hunched his shoulders. As a… whatever he was, he had some powers. Intangibility, invisibility, overshadowing, transformation, ghost sense, and now… this. He guessed it might be an extension of his ghost sense. After all, both had to do with finding dead people.

"What is this one, the sixth?"

"Fifth," corrected Danny, although that didn't make him any less miserable. He stared through the trees at the swarm of forensics people. This was the fifth dead human body he'd been drawn to since the Accident, not counting the incidents at the cemetery and the hospital.

Collins scribbled something on his notepad then snapped it closed. “Okay, off the record?”

“Huh? Uh, sure?”

“Is this some new thing from your parents? Did they make a dead body finder and scrap it because it didn’t find ghosts? Because, if so, the department would definitely like to get our hands on one.”

“What?”

Collins sighed, slightly, and continued at a slightly slower pace. “If the reason you’re finding all these bodies is that you’re using one of your parents’ inventions, the police department will buy it from you. Heck, we’d commission a dozen from your parents.”

“It isn’t an invention,” said Danny. “But, I mean, that sounds like a good idea. I don’t know how it’d work, but if it did, I could see it.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he wanted to punch himself in his face. A perfect excuse, and he just hammered it to pieces.

“Pity,” said Collins. “But this,” –he pointed at where Danny had found the skeleton– “isn’t normal. Finding five bodies like this by coincidence is unheard of. Did you get cursed or something?”

Danny shrugged. Honestly, he might as well be cursed. “My ancestors on my Dad’s side were witch hunters way back when, so it wouldn’t really surprise me, but… I haven’t heard of any curse? That doesn’t mean that I would have heard of a curse, even if there was one…”

“Hm. Think you’re haunted?”

“My parents are ghost hunters,” said Danny. “They aren’t always the most observant, but–”

“Danny!” There was a crash near the park entrance. Danny winced and blushed. Marley Park was one of the biggest and wildest still in Amity Park’s services district, but they weren’t actually that far from the entrance. It was very easy to recognize the sounds of his father’s driving.

“Did anyone tell them this was an active crime scene?” muttered Collins, flipping his pad back open.

“Probably multiple times,” said Danny. Collins flinched a little, having probably not intended for Danny to hear. Oh, well.

Danny’s parents thundered down the path, followed by a lot of shouting.

“Danny, baby!” said Maddie, throwing her arms around him. “What happened? What are you even doing all the way out here?”

“He found a body,” said Collins. “Specifically a skeleton.”

“What?” said Maddie. “Again?”

“Ohhh,” said Jack, almost growling. “I know what this is! This is some blasted ghost trying to make our Danny look bad!” He pulled out a bazooka. “When I find it, I’m gonna–!”

“Mr. Fenton,” said Detective Collins, “please, there are no ghosts here. We took ectoplasm readings when we got here, first thing. This is a crime scene. You need to put your weapon away.”

Jack grumbled, but did so. The other policemen in the area, who had put their hands on their weapons, slowly relaxed.

“Anyway,” said Collins, “this is an older body, so we…” He trailed off and made a face. “I think we all can agree this isn’t a coincidence anymore, but it’s safe to say that Danny wasn’t involved in the actual death of this person.”

“Of course,” said Maddie, who was still checking Danny over, as if the years-dead skeleton could have hurt him.

“Anyway, if you, any of you, ever figure out what’s causing…” He gestured at Danny.

“Right,” said Maddie. “We’ll let you know.”

Danny shrugged, because he sure wouldn’t.

“And our offer to refer you to a therapist still stands.”

“Thank you,” said Maddie. “We’ll talk about it.”

Danny was bundled down the path and into the back seat of the GAV. He slumped, feeling exhausted.

“Danny,” said Maddie, after Jack had started the engine. “Why were you out here?”

Jack backed up enthusiastically, and Danny used his need to adjust his position as an excuse not to answer right away. “I was just walking,” said Danny.

“Without your friends?” pressed Maddie. “Or did they just leave before the police showed up this time?”

“They weren’t there,” said Danny.

Of course, the reason they weren’t there was that they hadn’t been able to keep up with the ghost fight once it started to go through walls. And then, of course, Skulker just had to pick Danny up and rub in the fact that Danny couldn’t fly.

Jerk.

Danny much preferred Technus. At least he only trapped Danny in video games and acted like an avuncular and completely out of touch mad scientist. Dealing with him was almost fun, if completely terrifying sometimes.

(Pac Man was an abomination that should never have been created.)

Anyway, Danny had, eventually, managed to get Skulker back to ground level and fish him out of his stupid helmet. By that point, though, he’d been in the park, and then he had to get out of the park and that’s when he’d noticed the pull. And there was only one thing that particular pull led to.

Danny couldn’t just leave the body once he’d found it. That would be… Well, illegal, probably, but considering he was a kinda-sorta vigilante whose existence was illegal under the Anti-Ecto Acts, he didn’t really care about that. It was more about leaving a person forgotten and unmourned. Not given proper rites, whatever those were for the person in question.

Maddie sighed at him. Danny squirmed in his seat.

“They really weren’t with me at the park.”

“But you still haven’t said why you were there.”

“I was just walking.”

“Mhm,” said Maddie, dubiously. “But why there?”

“Why not there?”

“Because it’s all the way across the city!” said Maddie.

“You’d tell us if you knew you were being haunted, right, Danno?” asked Jack.

“Yeah,” said Danny. Well, if a ghost was really harassing him, he might. He’d told them about Johnny. He hadn’t told him about Skulker, though. Was what Skulker was doing really haunting, though?

Attempted murder, though, sure. Danny didn’t think he could leave without his skin, after all.

Maddie sighed. “Alright.”

That signaled the end of the conversation, and Danny slid his phone out of pocket to text Sam and Tucker.

Danny: im w my prints

Danny: left the park

Sam: u ok

Danny: ye

Tucker: u sure? skulker got u rely good that time

Tucker: and he picked u up. still p sure u cant fly

Danny: shut up

Sam: yeah tuck thats the thing hes sensitive about

Danny sighed and put his phone away. It was over and done with. Everything was going to be fine.

At least, until the next time he found a dead body. But how many missing dead people could there be in Amity Park?

The next time they went on a field trip, Danny wanted to beat his head in for even thinking something like that.

“Uh, Danny,” said Tucker, “you’re eying that wall really intensely.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, “that’s because there’s a corpse in it.”

“What.”

“Yeah, that was my reaction.”

“Hey, guys,” said Sam, walking up behind Danny and Tucker. “I hate to interrupt your contemplation, but the art’s hung up over there. Why are you both staring at a wall? Are you turning into cats?”

“Well, Danny can already detect ghosts–”

Danny elbowed him in the side. “There’s a dead body in the wall,” he muttered.

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “In an art museum?”

“That is where we are.”

“You know what I mean. What’re you going to do?”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s not like there’s any,” –he waved his hand at the wall– “evidence, so I can’t just call.”

“Didn’t that one detective dude give you his phone number?” asked Tucker. “Maybe he’d believe you.”

“I don’t know…”

“You could come back as, you know, and phase it out,” suggested Sam.

“My alter ego has enough problems without being associated with murder.”

“Maybe you could be an anonymous tip,” said Tucker, fiddling with the power button of his PDA. “I could look up how.”

Danny made a face. “They all know who I am.”

“All of them?” asked Tucker, skeptically.

“You try calling in five separate skeletons while being the son of ghost hunters. Yes, they all know who I am.”

“You could still leave a letter.”

“You could ‘accidentally’ put a hole in the wall,” said Sam. “Or you could phase something halfway in, and then when they have to clean it up, they’ll find it?”

“Doesn’t do much good when they might be the people to put it in in the first place,” said Danny, making a face.

“Could you tip someone off as… you know?”

“Same problem phasing it out of the wall.” He covered his eyes, feeling the approach of a headache.

Ugh. He was going to have to punch a hole in this wall.

He’d have to do it soon, too, otherwise the tour would move on and he’d have to try something else.

“Mr. Fenton, Miss Manson, Mr. Foley,” called Mr. Lancer, “we’re– Mr. Fenton! Catcher in the Rye! Why would you punch the wall?” Over his shoulder, the tour guide and a security guard started jogging over.

“Uh,” said Danny, cradling his hand, because punching through drywall with his stupid unprotected human hand hurt. “Because… There’s a skeleton in it?”

Why did he feel the need to tell the truth in stupid, stupid situations like this?

“Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer, thunderously, “stop making up–” Danny knew the moment Mr. Lancer actually looked into the hole in the wall, because his face went the color of milk. “The Cask of Amontillado,” he said, then sat down.

“So,” said Detective Collins, looking at the wall. “You want to explain how you knew this one was there?”

Danny didn’t have to fake the tears of frustration in his eyes. His powers were so stupid sometimes.

“Well,” said the detective. “This is sure going to be a murder mystery and a half, then.”

“So, are we off to solve a murder?” asked Tucker.

“Why would we be solving a murder?” asked Danny, dropping his backpack on the floor of the bus, where they were waiting for the police to be done with all of them.

Tucker blinked. “Because you just found a dead body.”

“It’s hardly the first time,” said Danny, quietly. He didn’t exactly want something like that to become common knowledge among his fellow students. Not that he expected it would stay quiet or anything.

“Well, yeah, but those were just, you know, accidental deaths.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about solving murders, either. Why are you suddenly so gung-ho about this? I thought dead bodies freaked you out.”

“Sure do,” agreed Tucker. He shrugged. “Murder mysteries are cool, though.”

“Wow,” said Sam, looking up from her paperback. “You aren’t okay with hospitals, but murder–”

“Look, it happened a long time ago, okay? Guy was a skeleton. Whoever killed him must be long dead by now.”

“Yeah,” drawled Danny. “Long dead. Because length of time spent dead is a good indicator of how much of a problem someone is going to be. How long have Desiree and Poindexter been dead? How about Technus?”

Tucker opened his mouth, closed it, went through a variety of emotions, then pushed himself to the end of the bench, muttering.

Danny leaned back, too. Rumors at school and his bruised knuckles aside, this was almost peaceful.

“HEY!” bellowed Dash from the front of the bus. “CORPSE SNIFFER!”

Aaaaaand there it went.

#danny phantom #faedemon #phic phight #phic phight 2022

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

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(YJ Anon) Okay so, first off, I just finished Young Justice... the bad news is they screwed over Slo-bo and stuck him with a fate worse than death and no way out. Which I'm not jazzed about. BUT! This blog is mostly centered on Danny Phantom, and the way they ended Secret's arc has some implications: First off, I've mentioned in previous asks that Secret was kidnapped by the government and painfully experimented on before the rest of her team broke her out and the Justice League put pressure on the U.S. to get her specifically rights to exist. After that, Secret developed this unhealthy obsession with Robin (III, Tim Drake's version) and started holding him to an impossible standard and generally expecting him to always be there for her. He was like, 14-15 maybe? Absolutely not prepared for that kind of responsibility. When he inevitably let her down, she started to spiral. It didn't help that in teleporting them away once she ended up showing them the edge of death- causing all of her friends to be low-key afraid of her.

She started worrying about herself being inherently, secretly evil. She, along with Slo-bo, broke her dad out of death row (he killed her brother, who was a serial killer himself and also her murderer, but the court didn't know or believe that). The break out was streamed live on the internet. As a result, she was no longer welcome with Young Justice and they were about to apprehend her when Darkseid, a big bad of the DC universe with godlike power, took advantage of her insecurity and self-obsession with her own inner darkness to turn her fully over to the dark side (heh). She left with him for a bit, and returned later to lay waste to huge swathes of people. Everyone who had every wronged her, including Young Justice, was on the menu. Robin eventually talked her down, and she was turned human by Darkseid for betraying him.

This is what she wanted, and is very much the good ending for her, but as far as public opinion goes? Secret was a ghost who the Justice League trusted and backed 100% despite everyone telling them she was dangerous. She betrayed them, and she started hurting a lot (hundreds) of people before being stopped by her former team. As the first ghost to really stand in the public eye in the DC universe (possibly, I don't know enough about Spector or Deadman to say that with 100% certainty) she probably set maybe the worst possible precedent for ghost rights. Danny is SCREWED public opinion wise.

Oh my gawd yes... Danny has no chance, because the ppl won't even believe the Justice League anymore. And then Danny knowing full well he could cause just as much a damage if not more if he ever allowed himself to become Dan. So Danny struggling with his own issues of wondering if some part of him is inherently bad. But unlike secret, he's determined to prove it wrong/and naturally does so because he wants to protect ppl and ghosts alike. But yeah, Danny getting any help to defend him from the public is going to be a bust. Either something where the world has to see Danny being the hero he is or maybe the fact of him being half-human put them in some ease... though Danny himself would hate it if it was the later. Not wanting to think he's good just because he's half human. Because he knows plenty of good ghosts.. but it is a step forward in allowing ppl to accept ghosts. But he be bitter if it was the broadcast saving world thing.. oo or if it was both. Danny just be bitter by the public regardless, so even after being accepted the most he sticks around for is a wave and let others handle the rest. Only on public display when its absolutely necessary. Though can catch him correcting ppl randomly like "Not evil."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars CXLII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I think this week’s chapters are the most boring out of all the book, but hang in there it gets better -Danny

Words: 4,940

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Four: Horace Slughorn.

Mel stumbled onto a bench and inhaled sharply.

"Wizards should just drive!" She panted.

"We drive," Erick said. "I drove you here, didn't I?"

"I was there during your lessons, don't try to show off with me," Mel grumbled.

"Dumbledore and Harry are over there — C'mon..."

"Professor?" She heard Harry asked once they caught up with them.

"Harry?"

"Er — where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?"

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you! Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts. I sent Erick and Mel to look for his whereabouts and they told me he'd be here, let's hope they're right."

"How can I help with that, sir?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for the three of you," Dumbledore replied. "Left here."

Mel scoffed and Erick nudged her arm muttering a warning.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door. Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance —"

"— you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," said Harry. "Hermione Granger told me."

"And she is quite right. We turn left again."

The clock behind them announced midnight, Mel felt a chill ran down her spine and held Erick closer. She was abruptly reminded of the dementors, and she had no wish to see one right now.

"Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked..."

"Correct," said Dumbledore, "He has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be Head of the Auror office."

"Is he... Do you think he's good?"

"An interesting question. He is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I meant —"

"I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort."

"And... sir... I saw about Madam Bones."

"Yes... A terrible loss. She was a great witch — Just up here, I think — ouch," Dumbledore looked down to his injured hand with disinterest and lowered it.

"Professor, what happened to your —?"

"I have no time to explain now," said Dumbledore. "It is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice."

"Sir — I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the Death Eaters..."

"Yes, I received one myself... Did you find it useful?"

"Not really."

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor."

"I didn't..." Harry turned to look at her with mild panic, Mel found it amusing.

"Oh well, he came to my house first and I didn't ask him either, but Erick was the one who let him in."

"I'm sorry I put you all in danger," Erick replied playfully.

"For future reference, children, it is raspberry... although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself."

"Er... right," Harry shrugged. "Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"They are corpses. Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful... He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the place, just here..."

"Like zombies?" Mel said.

"Those things are stupid and slow," Erick replied. "The inferi are nothing like that, trust me."

Once Mel caught sight of the house, she gasped.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear." Dumbledore got closer and examined the scene:

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

"Wand out and follow me," He said. "Mr Flint, keep guard on the entrance..."

"Of course," He walked away, Mel wanted to stay and watch over him, but she knew that would hurt Erick's ego, so she held onto her own wand tightly and walked away from him.

"Lumos..."

Everything was wrecked inside the house, but there was something weird about it... it was too peaceful.

"Not pretty, is it?" Dumbledore asked. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Mel got closer to the stain on the wall and gawked at the smell. It was really strong and brought back a clear memory of Hagrid holding a chunk of dragon meat to his swollen eye.

"Maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him off?" Harry said behind her, his voice trembling a little.

"I don't think so..." said Dumbledore. "Mel, what do you think?"

"This isn't human," She said, pointing to the bloodstain, "and the place is empty, if a fight had taken place here the muggles would've come to check on their neighbours, so either this just happened or he's..."

"Still here somewhere?" Dumbledore concluded. "Yes. A very good observation."

Then, without a warning, the old man stabbed the armchair next to him.

"Ouch!" It yelped.

"Good evening, Horace."

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," He huffed. "It hurt."

The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Dumbledore's chin.

"What gave it away?"

"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house! And of course, the non-magic people would've come to see what was happening, as Mel kindly explained a moment ago."

"The Dark Mark," Horace hit his forehead with one hand. "Knew there was something... ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?"

"Please..."

They moved around the room and fixed everything in a matter of seconds as if this was the kind of stuff a wizard would normally do on a Friday.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Dumbledore.

"Dragon's," Mel replied.

They stared at her.

"How did you know?" Her uncle questioned.

"Hagrid used its meat last year to heal his eye," She explained, scrunching up her nose. "It has a very distinctive smell."

"These," said Dumbledore, smiling at her, "are Harry Potter and Mel Dumbledore. Children, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

"Oho! So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus," Slughorn pushed past them avoiding eye contact. He froze and stared out the window. "Oh dear — Albus, I think you were followed!"

"You mean that young man?" Dumbledore glanced out to the garden. "Mel, could you please bring Erick inside?"

"Sure," She replied.

As soon as Erick heard her, he turned.

"What happened in there? Is he..?"

"Alive," Mel brushed it off. "Apparently this whole act was a security measure — Dumbledore said you could come in but I recommend you to fix yourself first."

"Why?"

"We're bait," She explained while adjusting his coat. "I know why he brought us... Slughorn must be important if he's playing this dirty..."

"What do you mean?"

"Just act as posh as possible," Mel sighed, patting his cheek lovingly. "It should be easy for you."

Erick followed her inside and both sat next to Harry on the couch, the three of them displayed in plain sight so Slughorn had to look at them.

"Hmpf," He studied them before forcing his eyes to look away. "Here —"

He gave the drinks to Dumbledore and then put the tray on Harry's lap rather forcefully. He looked at Erick again.

"I should introduce you," Mel said. "Mr Slughorn, this is Erick Flint, a very good friend of mine. Erick, this is Horace Slughorn, a very dear friend of my uncle's."

"Nice to meet you," Erick stood up and shook the man's hand with a firm grip and a confident tone.

"Hmpf," Slughorn said again.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well," said Slughorn. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice — You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

"Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," He added hastily, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

"You're not yet as old as I am, Horace," Dumbledore commented.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," said Slughorn, quickly glancing at Dumbledore's injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You're quite right," said Dumbledore showing a bit more of his hand to them. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand..."

He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and Harry noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that he had never seen Dumbledore wear before:

It was large, rather clumsily made of what looked like gold, and was set with a heavy black stone that had cracked down the middle. Slughorn's eyes lingered for a moment on the ring too, and Harry saw a tiny frown momentarily crease his wide forehead.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace... are they for the Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?"

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?"

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder... Are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?"

Mel felt Erick tensing next to her, she was sure Slughorn wouldn't appreciate knowing that they'd managed to take down two death eaters outside his house a few hours ago, all because Dumbledore had sent them to spy on him.

"I haven't given them the chance. I've been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house — the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands — it's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't spot you bringing in the piano."

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts —"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days —"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," said Dumbledore. "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half- breeds.'"

"That's what she did, did she?" Slughorn scoffed. "Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Harry let out a short laugh and everyone looked at him.

"Sorry," He said. "It's just — I didn't like her either."

"No wonder why," Mel nodded. "She mistreated all of her students — We had to teach ourselves! It's a wonder how I even passed my O.W.L. for that class."

"As if you didn't know you'll get an 'O' in every subject," Erick replied with amusement.

"If I did it wasn't thanks to her," She shrugged.

Dumbledore stood up.

"Are you leaving?" asked Slughorn.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom..."

"Oh," Slughorn visibly deflated. "Second on the left down the hall."

After ten seconds of heavy silence, Slughorn got to his feet and turned his back on them, staring into the fireplace.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," He said.

Harry stared at the man silently, Erick remained in place while Mel stood up and looked around the room.

"You look very like your parents," Slughorn told them.

"Yeah, I've been told," Harry replied.

"Except for your eyes. You've got —"

"My mother's eyes, yeah."

"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favourites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother, Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," Mel turned abruptly in surprise. "Oh, now, don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like your folks, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done — been in the papers for the last couple of years — died a few weeks ago — Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your fathers at school. The whole Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame — he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."

"I wasn't judging you," Mel replied. "Erick's a Slytherin, and he's our friend. He's a Prefect as well, and bound to be the Headboy this year..."

"I see," Slughorn eyed him up. "Eliot Flint's grandson? I met him during my school years... great man he was, I'm sorry to hear about his passing, how are your parents?"

"I wouldn't know, Sir," Erick smiled tensely. "They threw me out of the house after they discovered my correspondence with a muggle."

"He's living with me," Mel added.

Slughorn nodded.

"I remember when your mother made peace with Miss Evans, the two of them were a thing to fear! Your mother was Muggle-born, of course, Harry. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

"One of our best friends is Muggle-born," said Harry. "and she's the best in our year."

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?"

"Not really," He said coldly.

Slughorn looked at them like he'd just realized his mistake.

"You mustn't think I'm prejudiced! No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favourite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too — now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course — another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He pointed to the bunch of photographs on the dresser.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes — a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back — you'll see her if you just crane your neck — that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies... People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked Harry with curiosity.

Mel knew he wasn't doing it on purpose, but he was poking in all the right places.

"Of course not," He said gloomily. "I have been out of touch with everybody for a year."

"You must miss it," She said carefully, "your life was really active before you had to hide..."

Slughorn stared at her as if he'd just realized she was right, although he was quick to cover it.

"The prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate —"

"I gave up my old life to help the Order," Erick replied. "I don't think I'll ever regret my decision, I do something worthy, I'm valuable to them."

"And you don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," Harry sounded upset. "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed — well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort. I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?"

Slughorn pondered their arguments.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore... And I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend... in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus... I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones's death did not shake me... If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection..."

"You know, people think that I'll be safe forever thanks to my blood relations," Mel smiled in the same ironic manner her uncle did. "But in the end... a bloodline, a connection... it's not as efficient as watching your own back. I think you should take every precaution."

Dumbledore walked into the room and Slughorn jumped.

"Oh, there you are, Albus — You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines, I do love knitting patterns. Well, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Erick and Harry jumped to their feet, Mel calmly made her way to where they were standing.

"You're leaving?" asked Slughorn, this time sounding a bit hurt.

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost..?" He stared at Harry closing his jacket and Dumbledore putting on his travelling cloak.

Mel picked up her coat and Erick helped her put it on.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," said Dumbledore. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"You could've been one of my favourite teachers," Mel sighed, trying to look disappointed. "Well, what can we do?"

"Yes... well... very gracious... as I say..."

"Good-bye, then."

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Erick nodded.

"Bye," said Harry simply.

Mel had barely reached six in her silent countdown when Slughorn stopped them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

She smiled down at her shoes, Dumbledore turned to see him.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes. I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said her uncle brightly. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," Slughorn huffed.

As they reached the garden, Slughorn shouted the last demand.

"I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

Her uncle chuckled.

"Well done," He told them.

"We didn't do anything," said Harry frowning.

"Oh yes, you did. You three showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did you like him?"

"That's why you said we were bait?" Erick smiled at her. "You clever girl..."

"You say that a lot," Mel replied, clearly pleased with his compliment. "It wasn't that hard to guess after hearing him speak for like, ten seconds... he likes flashy stuff and the three of us are quite dashing..."

"Horace likes his comfort," Dumbledore nodded. "He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favorites at Hogwarts..."

Dumbledore explained all of Slughorn's way to them, Mel was absently hearing his voice while also looking around anxiously, every dark corner seemed to be watching them, she didn't feel safe. The Slytherin noticed her apprehensive attitude and walked closer to her, their hands brushing.

"Smart," Erick admitted after Dumbledore finished his explanation. "Though a bit... opportunist, may I say..."

"I tell you all this not to turn you against Horace — or, as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn — but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'... or, as they call you these days, Harry, 'the Chosen One.' And he wouldn't say no to teaching you, Mel, after all the rumours surrounding your upbringing — As for you, Erick, I daresay it only took one conversation for him to realize you're one of a kind."

They continued until they reached the church, where Dumbledore stopped walking.

"This will do. If you will grasp my arm, Harry. Erick, you know what our next stop is?"

Erick nodded, offering his arm to Mel once more.

"I've only seen the burrow in pictures, so you'll have to hope for the best here, " He told her.

"Brilliant," Mel grimaced. "Can't wait."

She crashed against Harry when landing, both of them fell harshly on the ground and were quickly lifted by the people accompanying them.

"If you don't mind," said Dumbledore. "I'd like a few words with Harry and Mel before we part. In private. Perhaps in here?"

Erick stayed out, making sure no one was close to hear what Dumbledore had to say. Harry and Mel followed the Headmaster to the little closet where the Weasleys used to keep their brooms. Dumbledore conjured a light and smiled at them.

"I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, but I am pleased and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius would have been proud."

Mel fixed her gaze on her feet, she wasn't proud of the way she'd acted during the last term. She'd been selfish and arrogant, and now she was trying her best to make up for it. She didn't feel like she was coping well with her loss either, more like ignoring all her thoughts to remain sane.

"It was cruel," Dumbledore continued, "that you and Sirius had such a short time together. A brutal ending to what should have been a long and happy relationship, and a loving family."

The silence lasted for a few seconds, then Harry spoke:

"It's just hard," He said, "to realize he won't write to me again..."

She stared at the poorly lit face of her friend, his eyes were looking up to the ceiling, suddenly she remembered that Harry was, perhaps, lonelier than her. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he wanted to keep their lifeline, it was nice to have something tying them together.

She wanted to tell him they didn't need the connection for that, but if she was honest, she wasn't sure.

"Sirius represented much to you that you had never known before. Naturally, the loss is devastating..."

"But while I was at the Dursleys'..." Harry interrupted in a firmer voice. "I realized I can't shut myself away or — or crack up. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life's too short... Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline Vance... It could be me next, couldn't it? But if it is, I'll make sure I take as many Death Eaters with me as I can, and Voldemort too if I can manage it."

The feeling she'd get whenever Harry would step into his role of the tragic hero fell upon her like a kick in the face — She couldn't blame him for being brave, but she was a tad upset that he wasn't making things easier for her troubled heart.

"You still have a family, though," Mel reached out for his hand shyly and held it. "You have reasons to stay alive."

"Spoken both like your parent's children and Sirius's true godson! I take my hat off to you — or I would, if I were not afraid of showering you in spiders... Now, Harry, on a closely related subject... I gather that you have been taking the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?"

"Yes."

"Then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as floods concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"

"Yes. And now everyone knows that I'm the one —"

"No, they do not. There are only three people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy made about you and Lord Voldemort, and they are standing in this smelly, spidery broom shed. It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you. Now, I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?"

"No," said Harry.

"Of course not," Mel said with a bit of outrage.

"A wise decision, on the whole. Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Yes, I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them."

"I didn't want —"

"— to worry or frighten them? Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away. On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

"Private — with you?" Harry's eyes widened. "Like Mel?"

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education. And fortunately, Mel has completed her lessons with me, so that gives me enough time to focus on you."

"What will you be teaching me, sir?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore.

"If I'm having lessons with you, I won't have to do Occlumency lessons with Snape, will I?"

Mel snorted, but she quickly turned it into a cough.

"Professor Snape, Harry — and no, you will not."

"Good, because they were a —"

Mel stepped on his foot, successfully shutting him up before he could continue.

"I think the word 'fiasco' would be a good one here," Dumbledore sighed.

"Well, that means I won't see much of Professor Snape from now on," He said happily, "because he won't let me carry on Potions unless I get 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L., which I know I haven't."

"Don't count your owls before they are delivered," said Dumbledore. "Which, now I think of it, ought to be some time later today. Now, a few more things before we part. Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?"

Harry nodded.

"While you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them. This goes to you too, Mel, since they agreed to take in Emily and young Regulus for the rest of the year."

"I understand."

"Me too," Mel nodded.

"And lastly," He looked at them carefully. "Have you made a decision on the lifeline?"

"Yes —"

"— No."

Harry and Mel looked at each other again, both exasperated.

"What do you mean 'no'?" The boy frowned.

"I—I," She stammered. "I... need more time."

"But you —"

"We haven't talked," She insisted. "We can't just make the decision without talking first, can we? Otherwise, who knows if the spell might work?"

Harry wanted to argue against it, but he knew she was right.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore opened the shed door. "I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are, Harry."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead @aconfusedslytherin

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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nastyburger · 4 years

Note

. . . OH NO SPECTRA. What has Spectra done to our favourite ectoplasmic heroes across the Dannyverse? You already said that Jazzy didn't find out abt Danny B at that point. (Also, sidenote, did Mourner Jazz find out about Sam Mourner during the Ember episode?)

ah that certainly is a thought huh, thinking about what weaknesses she would poke and pick at the kids for yeah lets think about that. i suppose this is more just a general fear/insecurity analysis i guess but nonetheless!

canon danny: we know danny has issues fitting in and his personal self image (”Not a Ghost, not a boy, but a freak. You don’t fit in anywhere!”) i really wished the show leaned in on that sort of identity crisis thing but i do think/interpret this is why danny is always so set on fitting in with the a-listers despite his history with dash (literally running up to the jocks and hearing what they have to say just because he was invited to a popular party with them).

he also seems to crave interacting with other people who dont know about his ghost half like sam and tucker do (hanging out/dating valerie despite the literal danger, ditching sam and tuck for aforementioned a-lister reasons). like he’s willing to do these things while instantly pretending the bullying and hunting his ghost half stuff didnt even happened just to hang out with these people like a normal teenager. he worries about fitting in, so this is what spectra picks at.

danny b: somewhat similar to canon danny, but much more focused on themes of being accepted and understood. he spent 6 whole months in rehab on a misunderstanding and now everyone else has this wrong perception of him and he cant even correct them, its frustrating. sure sam and tucker knows hes a ghost, but do they really understand the stress his human half went through? its not like they were with him in rehab. can any other human peers EVER see what he’s going through? sure his parents love him and only want the best but if this distance is how they react him over “smoking” will he really be accepted as a ghost?

spectra would throw a lot of stabs at how no one will ever fully understand danny b’s experiences, he can never tell people the whole story and even if he does he’ll be hated for it. in their fights, if db says any quips she would even play dumb and pretends what he said didnt make any sense. she tells him his words bounce off people, what he says is meaningless, he’ll never be understood. people will always make up their own narrative for who he is instead.

mourner: oh boy dude just guilt guilt GUILT with this girl. “danny’s death was your fault, it should’ve been you to die in that portal, jazz has every right to DESPISE you” the taunts go on and on and on. pretty self explanatory where this goes from here. spectra definitely has a FIELD DAY with this one.

(and to answer your side note, sam comes clean and tells jazz about the secret herself, details about it are in mourner’s lore post)

dex: feelings of being helpless, incomplete, needing to be fixed. dex doesn’t let the fact that hes actually disabled get to him, choosing to ignore instead since his prosthetic mostly works like any other arm, but when glaringly obvious differences make themselves known he cant keep pretending. he cant stay in extreme cold or hot weather for very long or else the metal will literally hurt him or the circuits will become affected and needs regulation, he cant stay in water with his arm for too long, he needs to get maintenance done on it, he has to literally take it off and charge it every other night. hell, he even had to learn how to write with his left hand! these differences are not something he likes to think about.

its not just the disability thing either, dex loves his family, but they overbear on him a little too much. before fussing over his arm, it was fussing over his health. he was always sick or weak in some way as a child, even when most of this is alleviated from the mutation, suddenly its “make sure the ecto contamination isnt hurting him” or “i know we checked your arm last week but we would like to check it again“ it can get a bit suffocating. spectra would constantly pick at how weak and helpless dex is, how he cant do anything or fend for himself without fancy gimmicks and weapons. “Take away your arm and robot and what can you even do with whats left of you? Even a normal kid will pose a bigger threat because they would at least have 2 hands to fight me with!”

ghouly: stuff like having his confidence and self image crash down on him, something almost akin to impostor syndrome. tucker puffs himself up and has a very assured self image, but as he gains popularity as ghouly he may start to doubt himself. its easy to put yourself above the bar others have for you when its set so low, but when its higher? and rising??? people have expectations of you???? suddenly this is a little harder to deal with and reassure yourself about. feelings of inadequacy will start to pop up.

spectra would take these little rising bubbles of insecurities and blow them up to an unimaginable degree. she would call him a fraud, say hes somehow scamming people, hes not being trustworthy by keeping a secret identity and will get found out. he’s put himself on such a high pedestal and now he cant live up to it.

#randox-talore #i saved this ask as a draft and then it did the thing where the read more link is in the ask itself again #i cannot fix it #but yeah theres that #dannyverse au #seance

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spooky-the-owl · 5 years

Text

Homeless au Point 3

Amity park was in chaos.

The fact that Daniel Fenton had disappeared was just a small part of it. Because before now ghosts had only been spoken of in campfire stories and, on the occasion, history books (spirits had made an appearance before in their small corner of the world).

Now they were spoken of in school, during lunch breaks at work, and even more in fire and police departments as they discuss what to do to ensure the safety of the town.

It had started with mindless ghost attacks but soon after a clearly sentient ghost had appeared to ward these monsters off. They'd have a showdown and no matter how banged up the white haired ghost would get, he'd keep going until the other surrendered. This ghost looked like a teen and had shown up closely after Danny Fenton's disappearance.

Speaking of, Maddie and Jack had freaked out when the school called about an absent student and their son hadn't come home the next day. They asked his friends, his sister, looked through his stuff for any kind of clue but could not figure out where he'd gone or what had happened.

They blalantly ignored what the students and teacher from Danny's last class told them. About how the boy had fallen into some kind of depression. How quiet he was. It was almost unsettling. How he'd just up and left the last class. They wouldn't believe his friends when they came up to them, very afraid, and revealed that the tired boy had told them he was unhappy with his life.

No. They needed some REAL conclusions to jump to. GHOSTS. Danny's disappearance was the fault of ghosts. It had happened only a month after the ghost portal started working and ghosts started appearing. Danny lived way too close to the ghost world. He'd payed for it and they would find him. But they couldn't let the same thing happen again.

Jazz was sent away. She finished school even sooner than was planned at first and left to college.

There. One child was safe. Now to find the other. The Fentons hurried to make a vehicle and launch themselves into the green void in their basement. Nobody knows what they see on the other side but the two ghost hunters spent more time in that flip dimension than on Earth.

The villagers know they won't find their lost son though.

Nobody talks about it but they would look at the ghostly teen flying around town with sadness and compassion.

The teen ghost hadn't told them a name but everyone called him Danny.

He didn't correct them.

Danny had never felt more alive.

Now that he had left his old life he was so much better. He had to settle first, though. He hadn't taken anything from his room or even any belongings other than what he was wearing and didn't dare go back to get anything. He didn't want to bump into his parents and have to explain himself. Moreover, he didn't want any of his old stuff.

The first two nights he spent in the small forest nearby. It wasn't much of a forest. It was a field of grass with a few trees here and there. It was perfect stargazing spot, but the animals got very loud, especially the crickets.

He spent daytime practicing his ghost powers. By now he'd encountered a few ghosts. And he realized how much he didn't about them.

One time he'd spotted one in the field. He'd been sitting there in between the long grass. And at one point it was just. There.

They'd stared at each other for some time. Danny could only see the head. It glowed softly, but the grass was so thick and tall he couldn't see the rest of the body. But he knew it was gigantic. Like. A grass plain dragon. It would've been terrifying. Danny only felt calm as he looked at the slitted eyes of the giant snake. It disappeared.

These encounters showed Danny what ghosts could do. What he could do. He practised and learned. He thought he'd find his limit very soon. After all, he wasn't a giant dragoneske creature. He was a child.

But the more abilities he saw, the more he obtained.

It was after the second night, when he'd figured out invisibility, that he dared go back in town. Danny spent hours walking around, looking at everyone, wondering.

He was free.

He could do what he wanted.

Whatever he wanted.

But.

What did he want?

This is how he spent the third day. He very much enjoyed watching people go on their business. Sometimes he walked around as a ghost. However he didn't show his face again until he figured out how to fly because of the weird looks he got. He figured they were scared of him. All he wanted was for them to feel safe with him.

He'd never felt this way before. This place. It was his. And he didn't want anything bad to happen to it.

Danny supposed this is what it felt like to be a ghost. To think like a ghost. He felt like he could connect more with ghosts he encountered. But there was still something that separated him. He was different.

He wasn't as...fixated on one thing as them. Wasn't grounded with one set of powers. He had other dreams than what his ghost half told him to do. He didn't only want to protect. He wanted to play, look at the stars, talk to people. He was still a social being. He needed at least a bit of social interaction. Unlike ghosts, who were loners by nature.

He was still different. Just as in his human life. But he wasn't an outcast anymore. This time, he knew his place.

The fourth night Danny slept in an empty apartment that hadn't been rented yet. His neighbours upstairs had children and eventually they got too loud for him and his sensitive hearing so he found a house for rent a few streets down.

He didn't see his parents often. When they spotted him they would look at him with narrowed eyes until he flew away. He didn't know wether they were angry at him or just saw him as an experiment.

He'd also watch search parties look for him or his body. He watched as they stopped and eventually declared him dead.

Danny snorted. As if they could decide whether he was dead or alive.

He watched astonished when his school held a small memorial for him. They taped a picture of him on a tree in school grounds and placed many candles around it. They didn't hold anything big. Sam did a small speech, which had Danny crying. Tucker was there as well, but he didn't talk to anyone or anything. Students threw some flowers they'd picked from school. Then they were gone.

Danny stayed. He stood there invisibly, staring at his memorial. It was the closest thing he'd probably get for a tomb. He knew how his parents were.

The ghsot boy didn't move as teens from all ages came back during breaks and left something behind. Some asked about Danny and the boy wasn't surprised to hear the first thing to come from the others' mouths was that he was the son of those ghosthunters. The ghost kid, one called him.

What did surprise him was when a group came and placed a blurred picture of his ghost, white haired, glowing self under the tree. They didn't say anything, but looked around as if expecting him. Then they left.

And Danny stood there.

He stood there as the wind picked up and blew a few candles out and the rain started. He frowned up at the sky. This it wouldn't touch. This was his. This here under the tree.

The ghost boy didn't know how long he had been standing there when the final bell rang. Students ran out to get in the cars or on their bikes.

One of them, though, only waved another off before trudging towards the tree. They didn't seem to care they were getting soaking wet, but continued walking until they saw a figure by the memorial. They stopped. Then picked up the pace.

The moment they took a step under the tree everything stopped.

There was no rain, no wind and no time when the person stared at the back of the boy standing in front of the memorial. The candlelight reflecting the dry grass. Some of the candles lit up green instead of yellow.

Everything made it seem like he had entered another reality. It had to be. Because there was no way.

"Danny?"

The teen turned and froze.

"Tucker."

It was a breathless reply and echoed as if they were in a cave.

Tucker couldn't compute. His mainframe was glitching and nothing processed. Because what he saw didn't add up.

It was Danny. Plain old Danny. Coal black hair. Pale face. Light blue eyes. As if he hadn't changed. As if he had never left. As if he had never been declared dead.

It was Danny. But it wasn't.

Tucker ran and slammed into the boy, throwing them both to the ground in a crying, confused, overjoyed pile of reunited friends.

Amity Park wasn't a nice place to live. But nobody ever left. Because it was a safe place to live.

Ghosts came and went. Some very violent. Some out to get control of the humans. There was a lot of colateral damage. Streets had holes. Stoplights were bend ninety degrees. Trees were burnt off.

But you could walk with headphones, looking at your phone in the middle of a squabble between ghosts and not have to worry about a thing.

The ghost vigilante of Amity did everything to his ability to make sure nothing happened to Amity's citizens. And boy, his ability went far. He was a very powerful specter and when the people thought they'd seen it all he would pull another power out of his sleeve.

They loved him. He'd hang around town and talk with the people as they went to work or school. He'd stop by the bakery and they'd throw him some bread. Oftentimes he'd stay and talk. If there was no danger he'd have too much free time in his hands, he said.

He was a nice kid. He was a powerful kid.

His aura was that of a shield. A warm hug. Protection. They wouldn't feel safer anywhere else.

New people who moved in wouldn't say the same. Some stayed anyways. Ghosts made for an interesting life.

Despite all the ghosts flying about, Casper High was still circulating with ghost stories.

They told of the ghost dog that had appeared a few times. According to legend, it was a werewolf. And if you'd believe stories Ember McClain, a known ghostly rock star, was the ghost of what Avril Lavigne had wanted to be. And if you listened to that girl from fifth grade all the ectopi wanted was to get to the ocean.

But if there was one story nobody doubted. The oldest ghost story since the start of the haunting.

It was about the son of two ghosthunters. An outcast. A weird kid, they said. Neglected by his parents and low on the social ladder he committed suicide. It happened right after the first ghost attacks. And some believe this was what saved the boy. For he somehow found the will, the power to stay behind in a world that he detested. He despised. He became a ghost. But fear not because this isn't a scary story. It won't keep you from sleeping. It won't make you check all dark corners in fear.

Because this boy stayed behind to protect Amity Park.

Danny phantom was the hero of Amity Park.

#danny phantom #homeless au #chapter 3 #last one #angst #my writing

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