Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A.N. I suppose I will spend quite some time transferring my works here. Well, I hope you enjoy it

Hogwarts. A place of friendship, of mystery, of magic and of dubious safety standards. Built centuries ago, tucked away in the Scottish mountains, it was, by the accounts of every British wizard, the most honourable institution, whose halls had been graced by the most renowned and venerated people blessed with the gift of magic. They weren't always renowned, certainly, but it was Hogwarts that ultimately shaped them the way they were. The colossal castle of many towers stood above the wide mirror-like surface of the nearby lake, dwarfing the emerald blanket that was the forest, forbidden but not necessarily guarded. Other than a pathway from the nearest village and available only to those gifted in magic, the only way to get to the castle was by train. There, stepping onto a platform, was an unusual guest. 

He was immediately pushed around by some of the inhabitants of the aforementioned village, who were probably too excited to get home. They liked the train more than other, magical means. Perhaps it was something exotic to them, like seeing a gladiatorial fight between koalas. The guest mumbled some unsavoury words about other passengers as he picked up the luggage — a black suitcase that had been dropped on its side amidst the commotion. It was not surprising that the young man did not receive any attention. There wasn't really anything that stood out about him in particular. The mess of unkept raven hair reached far enough to shield his eyes of unnatural icy-blue colour. His body physique, however athletic it could ever be, was covered by the cheap robes. All of this combined to make the quiet twenty-year-old almost unnoticeable.He was content with that. The guest looked up over the trees, seeing the tops of castle towers even from there. With his destination in mind, he stepped down from the platform and was on his path. 

How he got here and for what reason requires a proper explanation, and for that reason, one would need to wind a bit back in time. 

It all began with a newspaper. 

Danny Fenton usually wasn't much for the press. In the mornings, he usually didn't do much. But that day was keen on breaking normal patterns. The moment he exited his rented room, something felt amiss. The small corridor was devoid of life, and even the cleaner-lady who was seemingly dead inside was not around. Odd, around that time she would come and offer the cleanup service. For that purpose, he had already hidden everything of value. She had been known to steal a coin or two, and why she was still employed was beyond him. Perhaps Tom finally had enough and sacked her. The young man just hoped that the replacement would be soon. His experiments were messy. Not fretting too much over this particular inconsistency, Danny went down the corridor and later descended the staircase leading into a much larger room. 

It was, for all intents and purposes, a pub. A grubby one, without any pretense of grandeur. It was surprisingly warm and welcoming, despite the dinginess of the place. Perhaps it was the fireplace that lit the place and made shadows bounce in a rigid dance, or maybe the cheerful customers made the Leaky Cauldron a better place. Danny had gotten used to the pub over the last few months, and a smile crossed his features. And as he was used to the pub, so had he grown on the regulars. They threw occasional greetings his way, to which Danny responded either with a wave or a brief, yet polite greeting. Sitting on a barrel acting as a barstool, Danny turned to the owner, who was lazily wiping the beer mug. The man was not someone you would want to be the bartender, but he was in charge, so he very much did as he wanted. He was a bald, hunched man that looked like a toothless walnut. Still, under the unpleasant appearance hid an approachable and welcoming personality, so the owner and the pub itself were very much alike. 

"Morning, Danny-boy," Tom gave a smile, "The usual?" 

"Yeah. My stomach will refuse anything but the eggs right now."

"Oh, sorry, boyo. We are out of those."

Danny raised an eyebrow, "What, I ate through your entire supply?" 

"No, it's just that there are more customers than usual today and I forgot to buy extra."

Another thing that went off the predestined course. Tom offered to fetch him some steak and kidney pie, and the young Fenton agreed despite his past comments. After the breakfast was served, Danny dropped a couple of silver coins on the counter and dug in, quietly. Then, from the corner of his eye he saw the man sitting nearby reading the newest publishing of Daily Prophet — the most popular source of news in the wizarding world. From there, from the photo at the frontline, a confused-looking teenager in glasses stared back at the raven-haired customer with blood-thirst in his eyes. The title read 'The Boy Who Lies'. Danny chewed on the pie and looked away, disinterested. However, the man owning the newspaper noticed the prying eye. 

"Some hogwash, that is," the scruffy man muttered, "Can you imagine? Claiming that the Dark Lord came back, that's some cruel joke." 

Fenton considered whether or not he should respond with anything substantive, but he merely shrugged and said: "I guess."

The riled up wizard concluded that the apathy of the younger man was not to be tolerated, so he pressed on. 

"You can't just ignore this. Another Hogwarts student ends up dead and then Potter comes out all mad!" 

"Poor him. Can I borrow the paper?" 

"What for?" The wizard asked apprehensively. 

"I need it."

Danny didn't know what urged him to do this, but it got the nosy man to shut his mouth. The befuddlement allowed for the man to take the newspaper and turn a couple of yellowish pages. Tom, who had been observing the young man ever since the first arrival at this establishment, seemed to catch on what's going on. A smile crossed his features as the page fifteen was quickly approaching.

"Could it be that you decided to find one?" The bartender asked. 

"Pardon?" Danny raised an eyebrow, confused just as the owner of the newspaper. 

"You are trying to find a job, ain'tcha?"

Danny snorted and gave a smirk. "Maybe. Maybe not. My funds are, admittedly, waning."

"So you ain't even employed," the wizard huffed. "Well, go ahead then, lad." 

"Thank you," Danny responded curtly. "So, we have: a store helper, easy, but abysmally paid. A clerk for the Ministry... needs impeccable reputation and skill... no."

"Beggars can't be choosers kid. What, you thought you just get out of Hogwarts and get the best job there is?" 

Danny blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I never finished Ilvermony, actually." 

The man's eyes were ready to pop out, "Then what in the bloody hell are you hoping for?" 

"Hey, I just got down to it. I have my hopes up. And I'm not without skills, I dare say. Whelp, look at that, nothing solid here," Danny rambled, about to hand it over. The young man dashed away, storming up the staircase. The noise he made as he did so was yet another abnormality of that day. 

"He really doesn't want to work, you see." 

It wasn't true, Danny would reason. He was as hardworking as a little ant. The issue here was that Danny had other things to worry about. Other things to do. In his room, messy and stuffed to the brim with all sorts of flasks and vials, ingredients and shards of metal. The young man was about to continue where he left off the day before, when he saw a sticky note on his table. 'Buy ectoplasm and bezoar,' it said. With a sigh, Dannys stuffed a list of paper into his pocket and returned to the door. From the coat rack he picked up a cloak. He checked the pockets and counted the coins that were in his piece of clothing. As such, he found two galleons and six sickles in there. It wasn't the full extent of his savings, but he could last a month tops at this pace. The forecast wasn't the most optimistic, but the young researcher preferred to look into positives. He would think about it later. 

With this, Danny exited his room again and locked the door with a huge, rusty key that could potentially poison him with tetanus. And as he descended the staircase and exited in a tiny backyard, the young man entertained his mind with small riddles connected to what he was looking into. Tom noticed him leave, as did the guest. In the backyard there had already been a wizard who, in Danny's stead, opened the entrance by tapping on the bricks with his wand. Not that Fenton could enter by the conditional means. His wand was... inaccessible at the time. There, before him, was a bustling alley, filled to the brim with shops, restaurants and other peculiar establishments that caught the eye. It was bright, busy, welcoming and warm, it was everything that Danny's ultimate destination was not. His feet, encased in white worn boots, steadily marked his way towards Knockturn alley, the place he loathed and despised. And many of the inhabitants, probably, would hate him if given the knowledge. 

He was what other wizards would call a muggleborn. A child born of simple people who somehow possessed the magical talent. That's why his upbringing was alien to the wizards, and his views were just as outlandish by their standards. And some of them were especially hateful of people of his origin. There was another thing he hid from everyone around. Something that would make everyone turn away from him even more. His parents, muggles they may have been, were of extremely large amount of intelligence and abysmal amount of common sense. Together those qualities resulted in them dabbling in the fields not fully understood, those bordering on the realm of supernatural. The accident in their lab changed him, turned him into one of a kind creature that walked the fine line between life and death. It had its moments, it had its burdens and consequences. He was a half-ghost, something the wizarding kind would most probably consider an abomination. Thus, he would forever keep the nature of his strange 'magic' a secret for the rest of time. However, he would be lying if he said that he didn't like this tremendous power, able to put some extremely powerful wizards to shame. And he did some grand things with it, so it was all worth it in his mind. 

That's why he didn't fear delving into probably the darkest and most wicked place in England. Among popularly accessible locations, of course. A couple of minutes in Danny was already seeing some questionable characters that eyed the young man with curiosity of the malicious kind. One man was maybe too direct. 

"Hey, lad," he said, his face awfully close. "Wanna check out some of the goods?" He began opening his coat. 

"No, thank you," Danny responded politely, yet firmly. "I'll recommend some dental rinse. Hygiene is important." 

Without waiting for the response, the young man moved away, but felt the merchant grab his hand. 

"I insist, pally."

"And I insist that you learn what personal space is, old fart." 

Suddenly the man felt extreme cold creeping up his hand. He never felt something so deathly cold that his skin probably wanted to be ripped off, his hand turned almost blue from the low temperature and felt numb. The seller backed off at an instant, and the coldness vanished. 

"Have a good day," Danny smiled innocently and waved, only scaring the old man even more. 

Soon he made it to the place he sought. Barely reading the sign 'Borgin and Burkes' Danny stepped inside the shop. A small ringing noise announced his presence. The place was dimly lit by a single fireplace. The shelves were stuffed with all sorts of magical artefacts and tools that were better left alone, lest one ended up dying from a curse. Besides, touching a withered hand, a dangling dry and tiny head, was not something the young man was dying to do. Danny coughed, not seeing the owner. 

"Borgin, your prised customer is here!" He raised his voice, partially worried he would upset the delicate balance of the shop. 

"Sheesh, wait just a moment, lad!" The rough voice sounded from another room. 

Danny tapped on the counter in expectation. Soon the owner, Mr. Borgin emerged from behind the shelves.

"Ah, Daniel. Morning to ya," Borgin began, "What do you need?" 

The man was a sleazy one, an unwashed one and missing a couple of teeth. But he put up the mask of politeness with his customer. 

"The usual, Borgin. And if you have by some miraculous chance bezoar, it will save me the time." 

"Heh, you'll have to go to potion makers. I sell poisons, not antidotes." 

"Fair point."

As Borgin began digging in his supplies.

"Upstanding citizens don't come here, boyo," he noted, "Say... you never told me what you need all this ectoplasm for. You've already bought enough to comprise a whole ghost." 

"That's my own business. I'm busy with some... experiments of mine."

"And you need the essence of dead souls for that."

"Speaking strictly, their souls are the only thing intact."

"Don't derail..." 

"I never was on that trail to begin with, sir. You have your precious portion of sickles, that should be enough for you not to ask extra questions. I don't ask you about the shady characters in oddly familiar masks coming in, do I?"

Borgin froze. "When the hell did that happen?"

Danny smiled enigmatically. "I keep an eye out for things. And it just so happens that I am never spotted unless I want to be seen. So... we ARE on the same page, I hope?" 

"Damn it all, you look all innocent, but beneath it all is a conniving snake." 

 "My ectoplasm, Borgin." 

The shopkeeper sighed and put a one litre bottle on the table. It was full of murky green substance that threatened to spill out, seemed dangerous to the touch, but Danny nonetheless took it, not bothering about contact with slimy, semi-solid liquid.

"That's some low quality," he pointed out. 

"What makes you say that? The liquid of the dead actually went bad like last month's milk?"

"No, it just means that the output will be quite weak... proper ectoplasm glows, so you know. I demand that you lower the price by five sickles."

"That's a shakedown." 

"Even proper ectoplasm is not worth ten sickles. It's literally a ghostly fingerprint. Something you have all over your damn shop. Easier to collect than pixie dung."

"Still, I paid four sickles to get it. I am getting almost nothing out of it otherwise. Nine sickles." 

"You yourself admit that it wasn't worth more than four. I'm paying you six and assure that I'll keep buying it only from you. Sweep this attempt at swindling me under the rug. If you bring better ectoplasm, I'll pay more as I did before. Deal?" 

Borgin stared at the young man's outstretched hand. And then the shopkeeper shook it, noting once again how it lacked warmth of any sort. 

"Now, do you have anything else to ask for? My artefact collection is for the people of fine taste."

"In Dark Arts," Danny finished. "I fail to see how any of these will be of use to me at the moment..."

"Just recently there was one lady who bought a box of Blood Quills," Borgin muttered thoughtfully. "Interested?"

"Torture is not on the bucket list of mine." 

"I'm honestly surprised at how versed you are in these things. You are a young lad." 

To this Danny did not respond. "If that's all you have, then I will just go. Still have shopping to do." 

He knew that once he exited the shop Borgin would drop any pretence of pleasantry. Danny was a constant customer, but he never paid that much, so the relationship between the client and the owner was a tumultuous one. Besides, Danny despised that bastard. He liked to think of himself as someone having morals and standards — boundaries that he would never cross. That shopkeeper was an example of someone beyond that metaphorical line. Danny chose to leave the dicey part of this magical shopping district as soon as he could. Upon emerging from the dark alley, he looked around in search of a familiar potion-making shop. 

His eyes landed on the Ollivander's, the wand shop, and Danny stared at it for a while with solemn expression, before he set off towards his new destination.

He came back to the Leaky Cauldron half an hour later, locking himself in his room for quite some time. He could go back to his research. His body was a unique one, and thus it demanded special medicine he preferred to keep by his side. Also, he specialised in the fields that his parents had driven into him. The tools for handling many spectral creatures had to be handmade. If only there was a proper buyer for all the tools he was making. It made the rational side of his mind flip, for this later infatuation did not bring him anything of value. It was research for the sake of research, like examining a wheel and what it's made of. However, this particular project was going to make his existence much, much easier. To a wizard it would seem like he was a potion maker who also liked to rip apart muggle toys. The latter was actually not exactly legal. 

Only in the evening did Danny actually come out of his cave to eat. The Leaky Cauldron was just as full as ever. There, on the exact place he had occupied on that very morning, he sat. Tom was quick to oblige when his customer asked for dinner to be brought. Danny noticed that the morning newspaper hadn't gone anywhere. When Tom returned with a plate of soup, the owner smirked at seeing the guest looking just where he was supposed to. He just wanted the kid to be something better than a jobless shut-in. 

"I suppose there is a reason that the page 15 is looking at me," Commented Danny. 

"More like YOU are looking at IT," Tom gave a small smile. 

"I told you, old man, there is nothing to fish." 

"I am not telling you to apply for being a Hogwarts professor, for goodness sake, just look at..."

"Hogwarts professor?" 

"Oh, that. It's not on the paper, of course. Hogwarts is too honourable for that. They don't even have to announce it, everyone knows one position gets available each year. They say the position of the teacher for Defence Against Dark Arts was jinxed by the Dark Lord himself. Nobody stays there for longer than a year... Wait a minute, you are not actually thinking of that?" 

Danny remained silent, giving away his intentions at an instant. 

"Kid. You stand no chance. Only the best people get the shot at teaching there. You haven't even finished your own education."

"I merely picked practice over theory. I am more than capable, in fact. But I don't know if I should try. Is it paid well?"

"Well, obviously. This position is one in a million. Still..."

"Tom, if it was Transfiguration or Divination I would have immediately refused. Because I can't do those for the life of me. But... I have the proper experience for potions, astronomy and this one."

"I am glad that you show some interest in a job, but could you pick a more realistic option?" 

"I am willing to try."

"You are crazy, lad. I'll give you a free bottle of fire whiskey if you actually pull that off." 

"Is that a bet, Tom?" Danny smirked. "I have nothing to offer."

"Please, you are as broke as a church mouse. You'll have other things to worry about other than paying the debt." 

The young man laughed and smiled. "Well, I guess I will keep banging on their doors until they answer, won't I?" 

That was the prelude as seen from the perspective of the young man himself. His plans of sending a message to the Headmaster were to come to fruition. Fenton's reasons for acting the way he did were simple. His passion and aim of his strange life required a lot of resources, a lot of materials. And they all costed money. Thanks to the exchange rate from muggle currency — the dollars, to the magical ones and also dubious inheritance split he was left with an acceptable amount of money upon his parents' untimely demise. Besides, if he were to ask his potential colleagues about the fields he needed an expertise in, Danny was sure that the advice would be the best there could ever be. All in all, there were advantages all around. 

In any case, young Fenton spent around an hour trying to come up with the best introduction. He needed to be concise enough, present himself as a person worthy of at least being invited for the job interview. Once the young man was done, he looked out of the window of his room, the one overlooking the miraculous place that was Diagon Alley — the very heart of magical life in Britain. He needed to go to the local owlery to send it. He would be lying to himself if he said that it was a more proper way of communication. 

And so, back in Hogwarts, his letter was received. Several days later he received a response. In the morning a small owl pecked on his window glass, disrupting Danny's peaceful sleep. Bolting out of his bed, the young man didn't even put on his pants and opened the window. The owl seemed angry at being nearly launched away, if birds even could show such emotion. Danny smiled. 

"Sorry there, I got too excited," he said. 

The bird with white, fluffy feathers gave the young man a glance, before sitting on the sill. In its claws the owl had a letter, which Danny gently took and then paid for. The owl patiently waited until he put the silver coins in a tiny bag tied to its leg. 

"You hungry? I have the jerkies. Not sure if you want those, but..."

Apparently, owls liked jerkies. Fluttering its wings the owl chewed on a piece of meet, cooed and then flew off, leaving the recipient of the letter to examine it. Dying from curiosity, Danny prayed to the dead gods that this letter held the response he so desired. There was no doubt about its source — the symbol on it was unmistakable. Danny broke the red seal and slowly pulled out the letter, beginning to read.

'Mr. Fenton, 

We at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have taken note of what you wrote to us. It is true that the position still remains open and we will be very glad to fill it with a person such as yourself. Of course, a matter as important as this one demands deep consideration and thought. And I would very much like for us to meet in person, so we could sort out all the questions on both sides. I hope 10 August is an acceptable date for you, and I, as the Headmaster of our esteemed school, want to invite you to Hogwarts for said meeting. All transportation expenses lie on you, I'm sorry to say. As you arrive to Hogsmeade station, you shall be greeted by my deputy Minerva. She will show you the way to my office and give you an excursion in the process that you may eventually find useful.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.'

To Danny's impressionable mind it already sounded like a yes. He almost barged outside to inform his friend-barkeeper, before realising that he still had to dress up. 

And that's what brought Danny to the place where he was — the Hogsmeade station. The young man began looking around, trying to find the person he was supposed to meet. It was more difficult than he had imagined, for it was hard to differentiate between the wizards if you didn't know anyone's faces. However, very soon he saw a lady in the crowd. One look at her was enough for the young man to realise who was the member of a teaching staff. There was something about her that made him feel this way. Perhaps it was her gaze, reserved and stern. She was fairly tall, about the same height as Danny himself was. Her raven hair was tied in  a bun, almost invisible under a pointy hat she wore. Aside from this piece of clothing there were also emerald robes. The lady looked like she was searching for something, or, rather, someone in the crowd, which was enough for Danny to arrive to a conclusion. 

"Excuse me," he called for her and got the lady's attention. "Are you Minerva?" 

The lady's stern gaze turned towards him, but it softened quite a bit. "Yes, that would be me. Do you need something, young man?" 

"Oh, yes, ehm..." Danny wasn't sure of himself. His job interview had basically just begun. "In his letter professor Dumbledore said that I should seek you out when I arrive."

Minerva's look changed even further as she took in the appearance of who turned out to be the potential professor. It was the expression of surprise. 

"Don't make such jokes. I understand that it is not the school year yet, but... Actually, I've never seen you before. What house are you in?" 

"That's because I am not a student here, ma'am. I'm not THAT young." 

"You look no older than sixteen."

"I am TWENTY," Danny grumbled. He may have been tall, but his face was still pretty youthful. That often misguided people. 

"That's still not enough," Minerva muttered and sighed, "Very well, Mr. Fenton. No point in discussing it here. Follow me."

All along the way Danny could see how displeased Minerva was. He could honestly understand why, so he wasn't offended. It wasn't exactly displeasure directed at him, more like... the situation in its entirety, maybe. The problem appeared out of nowhere, and it wasn't Danny's fault for being invited. Well, maybe it was. He never mentioned his age, and that was done on purpose. The letter had been a rundown of what he could do and his past experiences with dangerous creatures. All of that was perfect for the position such as this. And Dumbledore seemed to agree. All Danny had to do was to convince everyone about his age not being an obstacle to the teaching process. Seemingly simple, but Minerva would obviously be hard to convince. 

The path to the castle was a long one. They passed the iron gates, decorated with statues of hogs. Danny took a wild guess as to where the name of the school was. He had heard the stories about this school before, his own magical institution back in America was founded by a woman who may not have attended Hogwarts, but she did take a lot of pages out of the book. And Danny himself heard stories about other places that taught magic in all parts of the world. But up close, Hogwarts, the colossal stone structure held together by magic, was far more incredible than he could have ever imagined. And he gaped at it like a child would at an exotic animal behind the bars. Minerva seemed to notice the young man's fascination. The feeling she experienced was ambiguous. Seeing such childish excitement from new arrivals was an unmatched experience she adored, but this was not an eleven year old child, it was an adult who wanted to teach here. 

Inside the stone halls there was silence. Deafening silence. With students being at their homes, it was really of no surprise. Said silence allowed Minerva to notice another thing. Only one set of footsteps sounded through the spacious halls. She immediately looked back, and her sudden reaction made Danny straighten up in surprise.

"Something wrong?" He asked and blinked. 

"I thought you... nevermind."

So the guest did not leave. His footsteps, however, were actually utterly silent, which was unnerving. Without being able to turn around every two seconds, she would have to trust the man not to detract from the course. He was older than her students, but she couldn't bring herself to see him as a full-fledged adult. He was just so young. And he was already doing everything in his power to put her on edge like few students would be able to. Danny knew the reason behind her distress, he had faced the issue before. If only she knew that he was not touching the floor to make the sounds in the first place. His feet hovered just barely above the ground so nobody would notice. 

Soon they arrived to the corridor that had a gargoyle in its end. There didn't seem to be an entrance to an office of any kind, but the appearances were often deceiving. Minerva quickly approached it, pronounced the password that was the name of seemingly random candy, and then everything spun into motion. The gargoyle began turning, moved aside, and a twisted staircase slowly came before their eyes. Minerva went ahead, and Danny took it as an order to follow. Alright, this was it, he was about to meet the new boss. He felt worried, but he had already prepared how to act in certain situations. He heard several voices behind the door and felt unnerved. He had thought it would only be Dumbledore and Minerva. No matter, he was Phantom, he faced things much worse than that. 

The door was opened by the deputy, and Danny almost lunged inside. Of all the rooms he had been in, he would say that this one was so far the most magical-looking. It was full to the brim with all sorts of peculiar devices, each of them made a certain noise, filling the room with ticking, clanking, whirring noises. Surprisingly, it wasn't a cacophony one would expect from such orchestra. The walls were stuffed with portraits of witches and wizards, barely leaving any room for wallpapers. However, Danny's attention turned towards everyone present in the room. 

There were, including Danny and Minerva, six people in the room. Young Fenton saw the Headmaster, an old man with the longest beard imaginable, the eyes holding a great mystery and hidden behind half-moon spectacles. There was a plump lady in tattered robe and a hat that smelled of greenery. Near her stood a man half her size, dressed in black clothes and a shirt. Danny wasn't sure if the guy was entirely human. The last one of the bunch got Danny's attention on the sole account of being the epicentre of gloom in the room. Dressed in all black, with short greasy hair and pale skin he almost looked like a vampire. Danny's observation's were cut short when the shorty spoke up.

"Ehm, Minerva, are you aware there is a student walking behind you?"

"This, Filius," Minerva explained, "Is the one who we are supposed to be meeting today." 

Both Filius and the plump one looked surprised. Dumbledore, however, had an entirely different reaction from others.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton, I am glad you made it. Did your trip go well? Lemon drop, maybe?"

That...wasn't something Danny had expected from one of the most powerful wizards of the age. 

"Likewise, sir," the young man pulled on a smile, "The train is nice, and no, thanks, I don't want one." 

"Is this some joke of yours, Headmaster?" Mr. Grease asked.

"I assure you, Severus, I had no knowledge of our guest's age. Which will be..."

"Twenty." 

"So he is not a student," Dumbledore finished and chuckled, "Obviously we wouldn't be so inconsiderate to distract a child from their studies." 

"He is still way too young, Albus," Minerva protested. "He barely finished his own exams, yet it takes years to properly master the skills required." 

Danny was getting the feeling that his presence here was extra. But he shouldn't let it all go the way others would like. 

"Pardon me, Minerva," he spoke up, "But I have plenty of experience." 

"Really, and what would that be?" Asked Severus, "You strangled a frog?" 

"Try Banshee. When I was fourteen." 

Severus huffed and crossed his hands, "I guess we will just have to take your word for it."

Danny couldn't help but narrow his eyes, "And I will take your word that you shower each day."

Severus's look turned murderous, but Dumbledore intervened before the situation could escalate. 

"Now, now. Let's not throw such accusations at each other. If we accept young Daniel you will have plenty of time for that. Let's proceed as those procedures go. Where were we supposed to begin? Ah, yes, old age must be getting to me. So, Mr. Fenton. Allow me to introduce everyone here. These are our lovely professors and at the same time the heads of four houses. Professor Sprout..."

"Hello there," the plump witch waved. 

"...She is the Head of Hufflepuff and our Herbology professor."

Filius, however, chose to take the initiative by approaching his probable colleague and shaking his hand. "Filius Flitwick, a proud Ravenclaw and Charms professor."

"Nice to meet you," Danny smiled. 

"You have already met Minerva and had an argument with Severus, our potions professor. They are the heads of Griffindor and Slytherin respectively."

Danny glanced at Minerva, "And you teach..."

"Transfiguration," she responded curtly.

"Mr. Fenton, please tell us now about what YOU can teach our students." 

That was it, his time to shine. 

"As I said, I have experience with many sorts of dark magical creatures. Mostly those of spectral and undead nature. I know how to handle them. And obviously, with it comes a multitude of much needed spells for self-defence. I have some sketches of how the program will be laid out for each year, it will be ready in a week for you to review, if you need. But I am more for a personal approach to as many kids as possible and practice when I have the ability."

Dumbledore smiled, "You seem very thorough, Mr. Fenton."

The man's diligence surprised even Minerva. He didn't look like the meticulous type.

"If I may ask such a personal question, what made you want to teach here?"

"I... won't lie that there are money involved. I have some important research projects that I have already spent all my inheritance on. But I also wish to teach the kids on how to defend themselves. If not, they are running the risk of being killed, what's with the Death Eaters running amok. I wouldn't want them to face the same risks I did." 

"What, they don't teach defence where you are from?" Severus sneered. 

"Not exactly... it is personal, though. I cannot say. But if you have doubts about my own abilities, then I'm ready to prove them."

"There will be no need. Just a little explanation will be nice." 

Danny thought about it for a moment. "My research is the continuation of that of my parents. I... improved their methods, should I say. And as such..." 

He outstretched his pale hand and opened the palm. Everyone could see their breaths, and all because of the dropped temperature. The professors saw Danny's ice blue eyes glow with cold shine. And then, a small crystal of translucent ice hovered in the young man's hand. 

"Charming," Severus grumbled and rubbed his own hand, resisting a shiver. "We have a jewellery maker in our midst." 

Danny smirked and lightly tossed the crystal in the air like a pebble. Then, in a single wave, he made the crystal grow to the size of a grapefruit. A very hard, sharp grapefruit. 

"I don't think you would like to get impaled with this one. I can always make more." 

Flitwick began to happily applaud, "Oh, that's marvellous! I have never seen a spell done like this! You have a talent, young man," the short professor said, while Sprout and Minerva stared at the display as well. 

"One trick is not enough," Severus kept being the most hostile person in the group. 

"I have plenty," Danny grinned, "I assure you. I have complete and total control over what I can do. There won't be any accidents." 

"Are you intending to teach it?" Minerva asked. 

"No. Not really. The process of being able to attain such abilities is very gruesome and may result in one's death. When my parents tested it during their student years, it sent their closest friend into a hospital for years, all covered in terrible burns and tumours. He hates my father even still, and I am an orphan. I trust that you won't want to subject your students to that." 

"This sounds like Dark magic," Minerva narrowed her eyes as he lips formed an extremely thin line. 

"Not really. Nobody HAS to die. Besides, becoming an animagus, for instance, is just as dangerous. But the research is still not done, so death is a definite possibility."

It was a lie though. However, the approach to sacrifice sure was... a unique one. 

"And you want to continue this project, am I right?" Dumbledore asked. 

"No, this one is totally unrelated. Some shady people were too interested in it, so I burned down what remained of my house and moved here. It was... hard to destroy what my parents left me, but I couldn't let it fall into the hands of people like those. They were insane." 

Nobody present in the room had a way of knowing if what the man said was true. The story was outlandish, bizarre, but if anything of it was true, then the man was more than capable of assuming the post. Actually, there was one.

"Mr. Fenton, would you like some tea? Please, come sit, we can't be talking while everyone is standing. It's uncomfortable, not to mention rude," Dumbledore said with a note of amusement. 

"No, thanks. Tea is not really my thing." 

"Then maybe something else?" 

"I really don't want to be a bother. No, thanks." 

Being too insistent was too suspicious. No truth serum then. 

"You are a peculiar person, Mr. Fenton. I would be happy to take you in..."

"Albus," Minerva spoke up again, "While the boy has shown some level of power usually beyond his age, he is still a mere child." 

"I am twenty, Minerva," Danny said, "An adult. Old enough to drink and Apparate." 

"But not to teach," Severus added. "Students need a figure of authority, and there is no guarantee that you won't indulge their lowest desires." 

Danny chuckled, "I can be stern and menacing, I assure you. Maybe I should keep my hair greasy for the extra effect." 

Severus knew exactly at whom the jab was directed. And he already loathed that insolent boy. 

"Minerva, Severus, I think the boy has the potential. After all, even teachers learn by what they do. Teaching is the best way of learning something. It will only benefit him and the students under his guidance. Maybe that's who they need, a person close to their age." 

"But the Ministry..."

"What's with the Ministry?" Danny peaked an eyebrow. 

Dumbledore's look turned heavier. "You see, Mr. Fenton, we are under heavy pressure from the Minister at the moment. You've read the newspapers, haven't you?" 

"I needed to keep the fireplace lit." 

A snort could be heard by everyone, and yet its source would remain a mystery. 

"Well, the Ministry fears that we are preparing an army here. To coup them, in fact. They think that the Dark Lord is still dead and refuse to see reason. Perhaps, it will end badly for you, because you will be seen as one of the main helpers. Since you directly teach battle spells." 

Danny gave a small, sad smile, "That won't be a problem. I'm ready to face it. I get your worry, Minerva. Such unique and reckless act as accepting someone as young as me can damage the reputation even more."

While she was glad that the boy understood this, she had no illusions that he would eventually refuse. From this brief encounter he already struck her as an incredibly stubborn person. 

"Then why do you insist?" 

"Because teaching the students is way more important than what the Ministry thinks of all of us, correct? And I must finish my parents' work that remained. That's what they would have wanted. For the record, what exactly do you think would happen?" 

"The Ministry wanted their representative to take the post you want," Sprout put in. "I've heard some nasty stories about her, Albus. I wouldn't want my badgers near her." 

"Does that mean that you support Mr. Fenton's candidacy?" Dumbledore asked amusedly. 

"Well," she looked at the raven-haired man, "You do seem like a nice fellow. I'm still not sure if he will be a good teacher, but at least there won't be any cruelties. I'll pick him over Umbridge any time of day." 

"I second Pomona on that," Flitwick said excitedly, "Although I am much more confident about the lad. I would very much love to see what else you can do."

Danny decided that he liked that short wizard the most. And it certainly had nothing to do with generous compliments. 

"I see. Well, you've got some good recommendations, Daniel," Dumbledore began addressing the guest by name.  

"I am completely against it," Said Minerva, "I hope you understand that this is not some personal dislike, Mr. Fenton, but I still stand by my opinion." 

"Yeah, no offence taken," Danny mumbled, "Still..."

"I agree with Minerva," Severus added tiredly. This whole discussion was irritating to him, "He is an obnoxious child." 

"I pointed out the obvious," a grumble followed. "The thing is called shampoo." 

"Stop it at once, you too," the Griffindor head commanded, as the Headmaster observed the exchange. Nobody knew what gears were spinning inside his head. 

"I see all your points," he finally declared. "It is true that the Ministry is not going to like the appointment, no matter how you look at it. However, there are no rules that would dictate the minimal age for our professors. And the time is running out. We have received no requests up until now, as the Ministry did everything within its power to push Ms. Umbridge here. I am afraid young Daniel is our only option. However, Mr. Fenton, do not hesitate to ask our teaching staff for advice, especially those present in this room. This is still a new field, and we have standards to uphold."

Danny's smile threatened to split his face in two, "Thank you, sir! I swear I won't fail your expectations. I'll get to making the program immediately."

Minerva was about to protest, but Dumbledore gave her a meaningful look. The conversation between the two would wait. 

"We are looking forward to it. We ask that you be here on 31 August. By then we will have made the schedules, and there is also the program of what we are going to have this year."

"Oh, about that..." Danny rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, "You don't mind if I move here in a couple of days? I don't have money for rent, see?" 

Dumbledore blinked, before chuckling. "Of course. If anything, this will help you get accustomed to the castle much earlier. Come here two days from now, we will take care of it." 

"That's great!" Danny responded with excitement. "So, ehm... is that all?" 

"Yes, that will be it. Everyone can return to their respective duties. Filius, may you accompany Daniel to Hogsmeade?"

"Oh, you don't have to," Danny raised his hands. "I can find my way out."

"It's just a courtesy, lad," Flitwick smiled, "Come now, I will treat you to some butterbeer there." 

Definitely his favourite colleague. Danny decided. With that everyone but Minerva and Albus left the room. Severus gave a small glance to the Headmaster and only then disappeared in the corridor. Once the door was shut, the atmosphere turned much more serious. Minerva turned to her superior, whose look remained curious.

"There is something on your mind, Minerva. You are still having reservations about the idea?" 

"I trust your judgement, Albus, even if I strongly disagree with it. Still, this boy... I am not sure about him." 

"A man with an excellent motivation appearing out of nowhere and offering his aid? Is this what troubles you?" 

"Yes. That will be the case. These are dark times, Albus, are you sure we can trust him? He is keeping quiet about too many things." 

"While I myself would like to know, this will be the perfect chance to learn."

"Albus, he is...strange. I have never seen such magic before. And we know next to nothing about him and his projects. What if it will end up killing someone?" 

"That we will not allow, Minerva. Him staying here will actually help us set up watch. Of course, not a word about the order to him. Daniel is an unknown territory. We cannot bring him into something he didn't sign for, if he is, in the end, just an innocent boy. Which, I think, he is. If he is actually in league with our enemies, we will not be fooled in the future. Everything concerning Harry should not involve him."

"I understand, Albus," Minerva said, before a tiny huff escaped her thin lips, "I should be more worried about his teaching standards, shouldn't I?" 

Dumbledore chuckled, "This is very important. Now, I think I'm going to write to Cornelius and inform him that his help is, unfortunately, unneeded."

There was that unmistakable excited twinkle in the old wizard's eyes. He was obviously enjoying this.

Chapter Text

Hogsmeade was a lovely place. A simple description, yet fully enrapturing the nature of the place. It was, as far as Danny could remember, the only village in Britain where not a single muggle could be found. Thus, the masters of magic could simply do as they pleased, without any fears of being discovered. This lead to said wizards throwing spells left and right, they made things levitate, glow and sparkle to entertain visitors and their own neighbours. Danny and Flitwick, of course, were of the former category. Although, the cheerful Charms professor was known around those parts, and so he received many greetings along the way. And at the same time, as they walked the paved paths between wooden cottages, Flitwick was happy to engage in conversation with his newest colleague. 

"Say, what is Ilvermony like?" He asked. "I've heard much about it, but never met someone from there." 

Danny hummed, "Well, for starters, your place is much more spacious. There many more wizards back home, but our castle is not even half as big." 

The short professor chuckled. "Right you are. Imagine what it was like for little me. It was twice as big!" 

Danny glanced at his companion with an unreadable expression, and Flitwick noticed this. "Something on your mind, Daniel?" 

"Oh, ehm... I'm sorry, I just thought about something. I liked it back in my school," he quickly changed the topic, "Warm and cozy, not too strict but serious. And even then I managed to get in trouble. Once I got assigned cleaning duty for messing with the contents of my classmate's coffee." 

"You were a rowdy student, weren't you?" Flitwick asked with a smile. 

"You have no idea... This won't be a bother now, I swear!" Danny rambled upon realising the implications. All he got was a laugh. 

"I am sure it won't. I've seen many youngsters in my life. Some mischief in those years is nothing to ashamed about. Oh, speaking of which, take a look." 

Flitwick pointed at the bright red shop with the sign that read 'Zonko's Joke Shop'. And the name was fitting, because the purpose of some objects was very unclear.

"Is there some reason you are showing this to me?" 

"Oh, well, you see, Mr. Fenton," Flitwick fixed his glasses. "Your responsibilities as a teacher will also include being the supervisor for our students. Each weekend they are allowed to go on trips here. My humble request is that you keep tabs on who buys what here. Basically, that applies to any purchase made here. We don't ask that you search them or forbid going anywhere. But we have to be prepared, rascals can be quite resourceful. Especially watch out for the Weasley twins. Those redheads love causing chaos." 

"Roger that," Danny said and blinked. 

"Although some of their tricks were quite imaginative and amusing, there is discipline to uphold."

"I see. Hey, is this actually another purpose for us being here?" 

Flitwick smiled. "Well, you have to know the surroundings to keep watch on the children. I don't mind giving an excursion while we are at it. We may assign you to the older courses, they are much less troublesome."

"No, Severus was right in that regard," Danny shook his head, "The lesser the age gap between us, the less they might listen to me." 

"Oh, you will be surprised. Well, our excursion will begin soon after we have our treat. I doubt the kids will interested in buying new cauldrons," he pointed at another shop. "Then we will see the most popular student destinations." 

The two made their way towards what looked like an inn, and the sign above the door read 'The Three Broomsticks'. On the inside, all of Danny's doubts were instantly erased. It was a nice place, the one that took all the warmth and welcoming atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron while having only the fraction of its dinginess, if any at all. And it was twice as crowded, for a second Danny was worried that his smaller companion would get walked over. Luckily, Flitwick was nimble enough to go through the crowd and get them a nice corner that nobody else occupied. 

"You will like it here, lad. The landlady is very nice," the Charms professor said. "Oh, there she is. Hello, Rosmerta!" 

The older blonde lady noticed them. She had a smile on her face as she approached the guests. 

"Hello, Filius. You look as sharp as ever," she complemented, and Danny choked a laugh at seeing the man blush a little at the straightforward praise. "Should I ask to bring you the usual?" 

"Oh no, no alcohol tonight, Rosmerta. I still have things to do," Flitwick pointed at his companion with his eyes. 

The lady only now paid attention to another guest. She gave Danny a once-over before humming in thought.

"Never seen you before. And I'm good at remembering faces. Are you a newbie at Hogwarts or something? It's a bit early." 

"Why does everyone think this way?" Danny dropped his head on the table.

"You look younger than you are, Daniel," said Flitwick, pretending that it wasn't a rhetorical question, "No, I was actually showing him around."

"And what would make you of all people do this?" 

"I am actually the newest professor," Danny raised his hand proudly. While his face still was kissing the table. Only then did he got into a proper sitting position. "Daniel James Fenton. A freelancer, a researcher of spectral matters, and the teacher of Defence Against Dark Arts." 

The lady, as well as some people sitting close, stared at the young man in surprise. 

"Oh," the blonde lady was not sure how to respond. "That's certainly new. What made you impress everyone so much?"

Flitwick beamed, "Danny here can perform excellent wandless and nonverbal magic."

"That's...not really that of a big deal," It was Danny's turn to blush. It was one thing to boast himself, it was another to receive a praise from someone obviously specialising in the field. 

And it was also shameful that it wasn't the usual complicated magic he mastered, but its ersatz. 

"I'll be back with your drinks. What would you have?" 

"Butterbeer all around, please. I promised to treat my newest colleague, didn't I?" Flitwick winked. 

Danny only smiled. Rosmerta nodded and walked away, briefly chatting with other guests around as she went. 

"Since we began talking about wandless spells you do..." a small excited twinkle appeared in the man's eyes. "Do you mind telling me what you can?"

Fenton showed all the signs of being apprehensive about the idea.

"I was impressed not only because there was no wand involved, young man. You didn't even utter a spell, which is twice as amazing. And it is also incredibly hard. Maybe there is something even I can learn."

"I... don't think so. Remember what I told?"

"Ah, yes, that ritual. Well, nonetheless," Flitwick shrugged off the disappointment.

"I could show you some," Danny offered. 

Danny figured that he owed something to the man for his welcoming and kind behaviour. The newest professor leaned forward, "Watch me." 

"Here are your butterbeers," Rosmerta returned with small bottles in one hand and two cups in another. Masterfully setting everything down, she began pouring the liquid in the cups. "Go ahead with what you were talking about, don't mind me." 

"For instance, I may need something to sit on," Danny began. "Then I do this." 

He snapped his fingers. Then Rosmerta yelped as, out of nowhere, a chair, glowing, green and semi-transparent appeared right beneath her. The owner flopped on the chair at an instant, bottle of beverage in her hand. 

"Hm...this chair seems flawed," Flitwick pointed out. 

"It was never the intention to summon a normal chair. This is less consuming. There are certain energies in the air, ones that this magic allows to bring together and solidify in the shape I desire."

"I never heard of anything like that," Rosmerta whispered, "Filius, what say you?" 

The professor chuckled, "That's why we hired this lad. In any case," he raised the cup reminiscent of that for latte, "Let's drink to my newest colleague." 

Danny smiled and the glasses soon clanked. Rosmerta smiled and just left them alone, the chair vanishing in a mist soon afterwards.

It was... a pleasant experience, Danny had to say. His pleased expression did not go unnoticed. 

"Enjoying yourself?" 

"Oh, it's just..." Danny made a nervous laughter. "It's been a while since I relaxed like this."

"Why so?" 

The young man looked out of the window. "I am not the most sociable guy around."

"Surely back at school you had your share of friends."

"Well... I had a couple. But we aren't exactly on speaking terms now, ever since... nevermind. The rest never really wanted to do anything with 'that Fenton freak'."

Even among wizards he did not belong. Even by their outlandish standards he was an anomaly. 

"That's sad to hear. Well, I am always here if you need something," the professor smiled, "I may be old enough to be your father, but you can speak freely to me." 

"Students must really like you," Danny chuckled sourly. 

"I won't go so far as to say this outright. I don't mean to brag, and every other head of house is an example for their charges."

"Even the vampire guy?" 

"Vam...oh, you mean Severus!" Flitwick realised, "I know where you are coming from. His first impression is never a good one. However, I assure you, our methods differ, and he is definitely sterner than I am, but he cares about the students' well-being as much as I do. But, I must say, that he still will lower your grade if you are anything short of perfect."

"Well... that does make sense," Danny said slowly, "Better they get taught this now. Potions are a very dangerous subject, and one mistake can kill." 

"Wise words. The fact that you understand this speaks volumes of what kind of teacher you will be, young man." 

"I just have my share of lab accidents. BUT it is also not an excuse for being a frootloop about it," Danny pointed out and made a sip. 

"Frootloop?" 

"Those muggle treats you mix with milk and eat for breakfast. Vlad Masters was the first to earn such title. Cheesehead works too," Danny cackled at the inside joke. "Oh, another thing. Speaking of students. Are there any other duties I have other than Hogsmeade and teaching?" 

"Hm... I guess there are also nightly shifts." 

"Pardon?" 

"We assist our caretaker Filch in catching the kids that are out in the castle well past their curfews. He is only one man, resourceful he may be. He knows the castle's every nook and cranny better than even the Headmaster, but Hogwarts is huge. Don't worry, though. We each keep watch only until the midnight and only a couple of days per week."

"Catching someone snooping around? That I can do," Danny smirked. 

The conversation went for well over an hour, during which two professors spoke about a variety of topics. Flitwick partially explained what teachers had to do, and even shared what his own duties as the head of the house meant. Apparently, he was also a part-time counsellor for the students of Ravenclaw. Danny recalled how his own counsellor turned out to be a very nasty witch who wallowed in others' misery. He also omitted the true, otherworldly nature of Penelope Spectra. All in all, the sense of camaraderie between two colleagues was quickly growing, and it wasn't the end of it. For, as Flitwick had promised, there was a sightseeing tour in their plans. 

Once outside, the short teacher lead Danny through the curvy streets of the village, pointing out the most popular spots. Zonko's Danny had already seen. There were also the Honeydukes, a place where there was a treat for any sweet tooth. That shop's popularity was justified. 

'Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop' read the sign of an establishment painted in tear-inducing pink colours. One look inside made the inner part of Danny's mouth feel all sweet. As Flitwick explained, that's where the amorous couples frequented. The younger professor couldn't help but wonder what his old spark would think about it. Probably Sam would hurl all over the floor with vomit the colours of the rainbow. Now Danny had to live with that image in mind. 

They passed the shop of someone whose last name had established future vocation at the start. Dominic Maestro was the guy's name and he sold musical instruments. It wasn't a particularly popular destination, but Flitwick was fond of the place, as his hobby was being the conductor of the school choir. Danny marvelled at how he managed to do so many things without splitting apart. Maybe the older people were just better organised than he was, he concluded. The memories of that mess he had left in his room came back, carrying shame along with it. 

By the time they were done with sightseeing, the sun was already setting. And as Danny didn't have anything to carry around other than his suitcase with documents, he could go straight to the station. He was actually stunned by Dumbledore not asking for those. And he was glad that it didn't come to this. He sure was an odd fellow, but Danny could surely live with it. Flitwick chose to accompany the young man there, as the evening train was the latter's last opportunity to return that day. Hogwarts had charms in place that didn't allow for conventional wizarding means of transportation. Not that Danny could apparate without the wand. He was certainly trying, though. In fact, he could already do that in a distance of a couple of meters. But this, once again, had little to do with magic. 

"Well, my ride is here," Danny said as he heard the train wheeze. "Thank you for today, Mr. Flitwick."

"Call me Filius, Danny," the tiny man smiled and waved. "Good luck on your way. We will be waiting for ya." 

Now that's a phrase Danny hadn't heard in a while. Perhaps his decision to work here was not the worst one he had made. 

A couple of days from that moments, Danny was already done with all his preparations, fuelled by the newfound enthusiasm. Tom the innkeeper was a bit grumpy about giving that bottle of firewhiskey, but the man could see the lifted mood of his regular and was glad that the boy finally got something going his way. However, he was still shocked to see how much luggage the boy had. There were, at the very least, five suitcases. Danny didn't have the money at the moment to buy a charmed one. Those were pretty costly. The young man stashed his belongings in the pub, going up and down the stairs. Tom couldn't help but notice how surprisingly athletic the boy was. All this legwork and yet Danny didn't even break a sweat. Once he was done, the young man approached the innkeeper and put a key on the table.

"Well, I guess this is a goodbye," Danny smiled. 

"Sure is. Make sure to visit, boyo. We'll be glad to have ya here anytime you like."

"Thank you, Tom. Is my ticket here?"

"Indeed, here you go," Tom handed him a purple ticket, "That would be eleven sickles." 

"Here goes my piggybank," Danny sighed dramatically and dropped the coins on the table. "Thanks for going through all the trouble." 

"Don't mention it, that's just a standard room service. And good luck with those rascals. I may have not believed that you would get the job, but I'm sure you will do well." 

Danny nodded and then set off towards his destination. There were two ways of getting there, the ones that the young man hadn't chosen before due to the lack of serious luggage. Now, however, he needed a transport, be it a muggle or wizarding one. He wasn't picky, but his only currency was the magical one. That left waiting until one particular bus showed up. This time he had booked the tickets in advance, having had Tom buy those. Once near the road in front of the Leaky Cauldron, on the muggle side, that is, Danny raised his hand in a way one would utilise to call a bus in this part of the world. And then, soon enough, with an atrocious amount of cracking noise, from the corner emerged a monstrosity of a vehicle. Nobody around seemed to notice. Not that the street was too crowded in the first place. 

Right before Danny's eyes stopped a huge purple bus. Unlike those red muggle ones that were associated with the Foggy Albion, it had not two, but three stories. On the ledge in the back stood a person. He looked to be around Danny's age, but unlike the young professor, his appearance was far more slovenly and unkempt. He had protruding ears and a fair amount of yellowish pimples. The man was dressed in a purple uniform the colour of the bus itself. 

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve. Where are we going?" 

"To Hogsmeade," Danny handed him the ticket. "The trip is already paid for." 

"Hm...seems legit. Luggage?" 

"Five suitcases. I'm kinda moving there for the time being." 

"Oke, just settle in, I'll pick 'em up." 

"Careful with those. There are some fragile things inside."

Stan nodded absentmindedly and jumped from the bus and on the ground. In the meantime, Danny went inside of the transport. 

The ride to Hogwarts was... quick. That much was obvious. The bus was not just a transport the wizards had stolen from the nearest depot. It was a complicated piece of magic, the same magic that allowed it to traverse enormous distances at an enormous speeds. All obstacles seemed to bypass the vehicle, its reckless bald driver and passengers. The driver, named Ernie, appeared to have little to no driving skills, since he would have taken down half of the lampposts and mailboxes of London had it not been for charms. He seldom talked with passengers, but Stan seemed to be curious about a nostalgic smile Danny wore. When asked about why he was taking it like this, his response was simple.

"Reminds me of when my Dad was driving me home." 

It was true that Jack Fenton's driving was subpar. Hence him not having a license for driving. The man's solution was simple — he was not allowed to drive normal vehicles, so he rode around in what amounted to a tank. Needless to say that nobody among the authorities appreciated his ingenuity. Especially because it was thanks to some miracle he hadn't run anyone over, only causing property damage. Lost to his memories, Danny didn't notice how the bus left the boundaries of the megapolis and entered the countryside. The cracking noise became louder and now happened more often. It was the sound of apparition magic, Danny realised. That would explain the speed, which had only increased after Ernie realised he wouldn't run into a building. What really perplexed the young man was how his luggage was doing. He himself was barely holding it together, with his chair not even being a part of the bus, but simply a wooden chair standing in the interior. 

Soon enough, the torturous journey was over. And by the end of it Danny swore to himself that never again was he employing the services of that speeding coffin. His twisting stomach agreed with his mind. The car stopped near one of the entrances to the village. Danny shook his head of all the dizziness and got up. Upon exiting, he saw his suitcases already properly placed on the ground. As soon as he stepped down, Stan spoke up again. 

"Thank you for choosing the Knight Bus. We hope that we meet again." 

And with that, the bus was gone with another crack, so fast that Danny didn't even have time to blink. One thing he had to give to it, he was in time for lunch. Perhaps he would have one in Hogwarts. He was now permitted to the school grounds himself, so no chaperone was needed. However, there was still someone who was supposed to show him to the room he would be staying in. Perhaps they waited for him in the castle itself, after all, they had no way of knowing where the Knight Bus would drop him. 

Danny fixed the sleeves of his white shirt and rolled them to the level of his elbows. He remembered how to get to the castle. Waving his hand just a bit, he lifted all five suitcases in the air, as they floated right after the young professor. If one was to look closer, they would have seen the faint green light surrounding them. Why didn't he use it before? Perhaps because Leaky Cauldron had little space for floating suitcases with reagents. He barely fit into the corridor himself. Danny made a beeline through the village, and after passing the previously seen gates, he went up the road towards the courtyard. There, waiting for him, was the person Danny had least expected to see. 

"Finally, I was starting to think that you won't show up," Snape sneered. 

"And I was starting to think you heeded my advice," a response followed. 

"A joke repeated ad nauseam won't get any better."

"Who says I'm joking? I'm being genuine. I care for your hygiene, dearest colleague."

Snape chose not to respond, "Follow me."

It was impressive how his clothes matched the overall mood of the man. It made the professor look like an oversized bat that chose to walk as twitchy as a hungry spider. And with both of the less than pleasant creatures combined to make one Potions master, it was evident how Snape chose to keep in line those beneath him. Flitwick couldn't look half as threatening and imposing if he tried. Not just because he was so short. Danny himself could not pull anything of the sort, unless he was majorly pissed. He doubted the students would see the side of him that terrified MACUSA back in the day. He derived certain pleasure from that, like a poltergeist would. The difference was, he was not a poltergeist. He was more than a scarecrow and a troublemaker.

His thoughts really took a nasty turn. Danny shook his head and warded them off, jokingly pointing out to himself that Snape's presence in the close vicinity was attracting all sorts of nasty ideas like sweets attracted flies. 

"Your classroom is there," Severus pointed at one of the doors. "Remember well, because your reputation will be abysmal as it is. A teacher getting lost is unacceptable." 

"Classroom 3C, huh." 

"Third floor, off of the serpentine corridor. Drill it into your head and memorise." 

Danny decided to ignore the teaching tone, even if he wasn't one of Snape's fearful students. Although he made a point to take a look at it after he was done with other things. Snape continued their journey and stopped near another door, about fifty meters away from the classroom. 

"You will be staying here. This is your key," Snape said and handed it. "Food is served for the staff in the Great Hall at the same time as for the students."

Danny glanced at his mechanic watch. He probably still had time if the schedule was the same in summer. As if foreseeing the question, Snape spoke up again. 

"Tell the elves your schedule for now. That is all." 

And like that, without giving him any extra information, the Potions professor left. Rolling his eyes, Danny opened the door and entered what would be his bedroom for the nearest year. It was quite spacious, which was perfect for his plans. One of the walls had large windows overlooking the vast expanse of the forest. And to the right, in the furthest corner of the room, was a one-person bed made out of wood. Generally, the room really lacked in the decoration department, but not that Danny needed a chocolate fountain. There was a wardrobe for his clothes, several cabinets, big and small that just begged for him to put beakers in. There was also a desk with a single candle in a cup. Danny would need to pick a new one. And get himself a carpet, just to put something not made out of wood or stone. Setting the suitcases in the middle of the room, the young man walked out and locked the door behind him.

He should probably head to the Great Hall Snape had mentioned. There was an obvious obstacle — he still was to get accustomed to the layout. Danny decided to go exploring for a bit, conventionally for now. Perhaps this way he would meet someone who could give him the pointers. 

And the task was herculean. It didn't make sense for something called 'The Great Hall' to be located at the top of some tower, so Danny opted to look from bottom to the top. He found the tricky, shifting staircases, and once again found himself mesmerised by the tall walls, all filled with pleiades of portraits of all kinds. All of them were alive, they chatted with each other, walked from one canvass to another, they lived their own lives with the bounds of two dimensions. Actually...

"Hey, excuse me," he asked the nearest portrait of a burly wizard. "Could you tell me where the Great Hall is?" 

"Go to the ground floor, lad. Won't miss it." 

So the initial assumption was correct. Danny grinned and thanked the portrait, before descending the first flight. However, once he reached the second floor he came upon the realisation. The staircase only reached the first floor. Once getting there, Danny strolled through another corridor, and, luckily, he soon found a marble staircase that led him even further down. There were huge, oak doors that were only slightly open. Danny had a heightened sense of smell, and the one gracing his nostrils at the moment was delicious. It appeared that he found the place. Sliding inside, barely moving the doors, he got inside. This place, too, left the impressionable young man awestruck. 

It was an enormous place, as the name had suggested. The ceiling that was so far away, seemed not to exist at all, but Danny realised that it was probably just an enchantment. There were four long and empty tables, presumably occupied by the students. In the far end Danny saw a long table that faced the entrance. And in the middle there was an elaborate, throne-like chair. Putting two and two together, the young man realised that that's where the professors sat. And speaking of which, Danny noticed that he was not alone in this place of warmth. From behind the magnifying glasses two stunned eyes stared at the newcomer. 

The lady reminded Danny of his dead grandma. All dressed in gauzy shawls and cheap pieces of jewellery some charlatan presented as genuine. Danny smiled and waved. 

"Heyo." 

"I-It's you!" The lady said in a misty, yet fearful tone that caught Danny off-guard. 

"Ehm... have we met?" Danny rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember. And he sure would have after the first meeting with such individual. 

"No, but I have foreseen this," the lady got up and leaned over the table. 

"Oh, you are a seer?" 

Suddenly a lot of things became clear. 

"Indeed I am. My inner eye told me a lot." 

Danny shifted on his spot. The last person he met who had insight into the future was an awfully nosy ghost. "And that will be..." 

"It will be rude of me to be so imposing," her mystified tone did not go anywhere. 

Or she actually could not see. Danny's concerns evaporated for the most part, but better keep on guard. 

"Don't worry, I won't get offended."

The lady shifted uncomfortably, and Danny couldn't help but sigh on the inside. Seers who could actually see a lot were a very rare thing. Still, she probably got the job for a reason. And he was in such ambiguous position himself, so there was no need to be rude. 

"Well then," he smiled, "It's Daniel. Call me Danny if you like. I'm the newest DADA professor. Nice to meet you."

"So I was right in my assumption," the lady brightened just a bit. "My name Is Sybil Trelawney. I teach Divination at this school." 

Danny looked around, "You eating alone?" 

"I... enjoy some solitude."

"Oh, I see. Do I get the meal here, or..." 

"You are now a teacher," she explained, not breaking her mystical act once. "Clap your hands here or in your room. You could also go to the lower floor, where the kitchens are." 

"No, thanks. I'll eat here if you don't mind." 

Trelawney didn't say anything. However, so as not to intrude too much, Danny sat at a considerable distance, hoping that he wouldn't be misunderstood. Curious, the young man actually clapped his hands a couple of times. At an instant, the table before him was filled with all sorts of delicious cuisine, fried, boiled or mashed together. Silently praying to whoever blessed him with lunch, Danny got down to eating. Saying that the food here was delicious was to say nothing. The Leaky Cauldron couldn't compare, no offence to the good innkeeper. He felt Trelawney's intense gaze all this time. That lady was an oddball, luckily he had a high tolerance threshold for weird people. Still, did she have to push it? 

"If you have something to ask, shoot. I'm not going to bite, but staring is rude." 

Trelawney just turned to her own food. And the rest of the lunch went quietly. Danny wiped his mouth and got up from the seat, throwing a glance at the fellow teacher and then leaving. His schedule for the day was simple. He would see his classroom, take a bath and then unpack his things before dinner where he hopefully would meet everyone else. Danny was somewhat excited to see the rest of the staff. The way back took much less time now that he knew where to go, and the staircases were aligned just perfectly. 

Now, standing in front of the door, Danny quickly opened it and entered. 

His first impression — the place radiated the air of dealings with dark arts. Maybe it had something to do with the skeleton of a dragon hanging from the ceiling. No, that wasn't it. Something about the atmosphere here was enticing to the young man. He surely felt at home here. First, he examined a projector standing near the door. Ilvermony didn't have those. Passing the many rows of chairs and desks, Danny got to another end of the classroom. Then he sat at the teacher's desk, feeling... perplexed. He had never thought he would see everything from that particular position. He had never thought he would be a teacher. Well, everything had a first time. Jumping from the chair, Danny began doing what basically amounted to fooling around. He scribbled on the blackboard, he poked the skull on his desk and decided to leave it there for entourage. 

He then got to the mostly windows and opened its sills, basking the half-dark room in light. Despite being disused during the summer, the place was actually stark clean, he now noticed. Danny then moved his palm and all other sills opened, not without whining. Then, like an excitable child he ran up the staircase located behind the teacher's desk and entered another room. That was an empty, undecorated room. Danny's excitement died down at this quite a bit, but it was obviously his office. Nothing a little decorating couldn't do. Satisfied with his own little excursion, Danny got back to the classroom and flopped back at his chair, absorbed in a myriad of thoughts on how to add his personal touch to the place.

And then, amidst his contemplations, he was interrupted by a small gust of air escaping his mouth. 

Ah, yes. He was bound to encounter them eventually. Now that was going to be interesting.

From the wall floated a person, silvery and semi-transparent. He dressed in clothing from the age of Tudors, sported long curly hair, and a small moustache and goatee. Just as Danny had expected. The ghosts he was used to were quite dissimilar to the locals. Which in turn meant that they weren't likely to know who he was. The spectre noticed the professor and beamed. 

"Greetings, young man! Are you the newest professor we all heard about?" 

"Yes, that would be me. And you are..." 

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. On behalf of the ghosts of Hogwarts I have come to give you our greetings." 

Danny blinked and didn't respond at first. Sir Nicholas didn't know the reason for such surprise, and was about to ask, but Danny beat him to it. 

"Sorry. I'm just not really used to ghosts being polite to me. Very few are." 

"Oh, is this the case? I deeply apologise on behalf of my kin, I know not what the reasons are..." 

"Name is Fenton. Danny Fenton. Ring any bells?" 

The ghost's face contorted in an expression of shock, of realisation and slight fear. 

"You... I never thought Lord Phantom will ever come to Hogwarts." 

"Neither did I. But here I am. I'm glad we put this out of the way from the start. Better you learned the name from me than anybody else. And please, don't call me that in front of everyone. You have to understand that this is my cherished secret only ghosts are aware of." 

"I... I don't know if all the rumours are true about you." 

"Depends on the rumours," Danny got up. 

"They say that you are a creature that is both dead and alive." 

"Guilty," Danny shrugged, "My heart doesn't beat anymore. But I am clearly not a corpse. I'm not decaying." 

"That's... not every one of us can accept such thing, you have to understand."

"And you, Nicholas?" 

The ghost shifted in his spot in the air. He knew what the man could do. Even him being an immaterial being was not going to help. 

"You have to understand that we all had our reasons to stay behind, yet were not given the ability to interact with the world. This existence is... painful sometimes. You, however, have not only stayed alive, you became something unique and powerful. This is some dark magic, young man." 

"Not exactly magic, but dark nonetheless, I admit. I did have to die, after all." 

Danny knew that there was no reason to withhold anything from the ghosts. They already could spill everything going by the name alone. Being open, however, could predispose the locals. 

"But it was not intentional, Sir Nicholas," Danny explained, "It happened by accident. I am not some twisted dark wizard like Voldemort. Even if I am what every twisted warlock dreamed to be." 

"I am not accusing you, of course," Nicholas bowed his head, "Your exploits too are well known. If not for you, terrible horror would have befallen on us all."

"You mean Pariah?" 

The ghost nodded. "Yes. But there are also rumours that you did some... questionable things."

"Those people were monsters. They only posed as aurors, as people of MACUSA. But in reality they cut unusual people and even poltergeists apart for the sake of progress. I..." Danny's hand instinctively reached for his chest, "I didn't want the same to happen to me. I killed them, yes. I won't shy away from the fact that I made the world cleaner. I never asked for it. I just wanted to finish the school and be a normal person. All of this, Nick. Is my chance at normalcy. So I beg you and all other ghosts of Hogwarts not to tell anyone." 

"Phantom," Nick spoke with newfound confidence, "We all swore to protect Hogwarts and report everything to the Headmaster." 

"Please. Tell him just about the rumours then. I'll justify it all before him, but please. Don't tell him of what I am. I don't want those labels again." 

"I... I will do what I can. If I am asked, I will answer. But I won't go to tell everything myself. I always believed that you are a good man, I've been told a lot of stories even from the people who hated you. Speaking of which, some of the ghosts here don't like you at all." 

"Of course," Danny muttered. 

"Grey Lady in particular seems to abhor what you are."

"I am a mistake of nature. I know. Being a half-ghost kind of incites to making that conclusion. Let me talk to them, I don't want to use you as a delivery owl. Could you arrange a meeting?" 

"Of course. Are you staying in the usual professor bedroom?" 

"Yes, I think so."

"We will be there in an hour. I will go find them. I am sure Friar will support you, he is a gentle soul. He even forgives Peeves... ah, yes, him. He will be a problem. The poltergeist never is quiet." 

"Think I should give him a scare?" 

Nicholas hummed. "We could always use an extra person to keep that scoundrel in line. And you are someone capable of that."

"And who are the others?" 

"Bloody Baron, the house ghost of Slytherin. And, of course, Dumbledore. But I ask you not to antagonise him until we solve your issue between ourselves. He will most probably find you first, however."

"Nothing I can do about that. I have a knack of getting in trouble. Thank you for listening, Nick. You don't mind that I call you that?" 

"Not from you, milord, but I still would like to be called Sir Nicholas." 

Danny winced. "Can you omit the title, please? I'm not comfortable with that." 

"You ARE one, are you not?" 

"Well, yes. Came with slaying the king, but the locals may not appreciate a guy who is called that by the undead."

"Ah, yes, I understand. I guess I judged by my own habits. I will return at the arranged time, young man."

"That's all I ask. See ya!" 

As the ghost floated out of the room, Danny sighed and dropped on the chair again. Ironic how he interacted with the undead more than with the living, and yet the conversations weren't the most substantive either way. Danny rubbed his temples and rose to his feet. Better sort out that matter before anything else. Then he could focus on actually getting into his role. However, it also gave him the anxiety that did not allow him to unpack his things yet. What was the point if the undead alone could kick him out by ratting everything to the Headmaster? Danny paced in his room impatiently, chewing on a sugar quill — the only thing he dared to take from the luggage. The action was ill-advised, as it was essentially a lollipop — a thing that could break one's teeth. 

Soon, however, the minty taste became even chillier when his ghost sense flared up. Putting the cracked quill on the desk, Danny turned in direction of the entrance. Soon enough the guests came in. Sir Nicholas was among them, but there were also three others. The first was an unsettling ghost — dressed curly powdered wig, fashions closer to the 17th century, and carried his sword. His gaunt face and wide eyes were directed straight at the young man. The specks of blood and rattling silver chains around him gave away his name — Bloody Baron. There was also a woman, beautiful, yet holding certain pride that stood in the way of seeing it, her semi-transparency having nothing to do with it. She had waist-long hair, was dressed in floor-length cloak. Grey Lady, obviously, as she was the only woman in the group. The last one was a plump, small man in monk clothes, with short brown hair, which he wore with a small tonsure. Friar. 

"So," Nicholas coughed awkwardly. "I suppose we should start with...introductions?" 

He really was unsure about how to proceed. Thankfully for him, Danny took the lead. 

"I think there really is no need," he said. "We know who we are."

"Why did you ask us to come, child?" Baron rasped. 

"Because this matter is important. Not to sound conceited. It's important for me for reasons Sir Nicholas has probably mentioned." 

"I'm not sure he did," Friar rubbed his temples. 

"Then I will tell it. I want to make it clear that I am, y'know... not a threat to everyone around." 

"Certainly you are not," the Hufflepuff ghost smiled, "Look at ya! You don't look like you can hurt a fly."

"That boy took down the Ghost King, Friar. He is far from harmless," Baron grumbled. 

Danny chuckled nervously. Grey Lady chose to remain silent for a while. 

"So, like..." the young man rubbed the back of his neck. "If you..."

God, that was awkward. Usually ghosts in the human world tried to kill him. 

"...have some questions or suspicions I will be glad to answer."

"I have none," Baron huffed. "Do what ya want." 

Fenton blinked. "You mean it?" 

"Yes." 

Not the chattiest person around, it seemed. 

"Not that I don't appreciate it, but why?" 

"I know you are not going to attack the children. Let's just say that we get only some information about you. Information that came from the people I personally have a dislike of. Besides, there also comes Pariah issue. You can parade around with this heroic deed to protect yourself from judgement. You have my approval because of that." 

"Thanks." 

"I also heard stories about you!" Friar beamed, "Like that time you broke many ghosts free from that tyrannic warden. Or when Undergrowth almost ravaged the world! Are those true?" 

Danny blushed and looked away. "Yeah. They are." 

He wondered why Flitwick was not in Hufflepuff if that's what the badgers were like.

"That should settle it, really! The boy protects the dead from the living as much as he protects the mortals from the dead. I am certain that he is of no danger to the school. What say you, Sir Nicholas?" 

"I already gave the boy my word I was not intent on breaking. I shall not speak to anyone about this unless the Headmaster insists. This should be a compromise decision for everyone." 

Friar nodded. "Sounds good to me if young Phantom agrees."

"I see no problems," Baron added. 

"And you, Lady?"

Now that the question was asked directly to her, the female ghost gave the young man a once-over with an apathetic, even diminishing look. Even Snape hadn't looked at him this way. 

"I won't go against everyone if that's what you decided unanimously," she declared. "However, your experiments and nature I find foul and unnatural even more so than ours. That much you should know so you don't have any wrong ideas. Be it my will alone, you would have been far away from here, abomination." 

Friar and Nick gasped quietly. Never before had she been so rude and spiteful towards someone who was not Baron. 

Danny shrugged, "If that's what it takes for you to keep this secret. I swear I will make you see that I am more than just half-dead kid."

"Better stay the way you are, lest you create more troubles than you are worth." 

For some reason Danny got reminded of his meeting with the Heads of houses. Alignments and reasons were different, but still. Ironic how Ravenclaw gave him the warmest and coldest treatment so far. Grey Lady said nothing more and floated out of the room. Coughing, Nick attracted attention to himself. 

"Well, I believe that sorts this matter out. We shall speak with all ghosts at Hogwarts. They listen to what our little council decides." 

"I am glad. Thank you, guys. I appreciate it." 

"Don't mention it, milord," Friar chuckled. "The pleasure is all ours. Oh, and don't take Lady's words close to heart. She means well and is actually very kind. I know not why she has it against you in particular, but I'm certain she will come around if you teach her ravens well. Well, we'll be off now, then." 

Other ghosts nodded, but Danny could see that Baron looked...thoughtful. And left the young man wondering — was there actually some other reason he chose to keep quiet?

Chapter Text

The following days Danny spent in rigorous preparations for the upcoming year. To the shock of the Headmaster and even McGonagall, the program for each year, for the entire year, was ready the following day after his arrival, in the evening. How he was so quick was beyond anyone, but the impression of him as a workaholic sort of stuck with him now. Still, the stern Transfiguration professor always appreciated diligence from her students, and she also took Danny's efforts as a good sign. Besides, in the duration of what was left of August he was showing himself to be a generally nice person to have around. Each time the professors went to have a meal, he was also there, always having a story to share. Few appreciated it, but those who did he had won over in the couple of weeks. 

To everyone it was obvious how passionate he was about Astronomy. This led everyone to believe that that was one of the subjects he took during the American equivalent of N.E.W.T. — the final exam at Hogwarts taken during the last year. In fact, he asked Professor Sinistra, the one teaching the subject, if he could use their telescopes to observe the "Peak of the κ-Cygnid meteor shower." She gave her reluctant approval, but it was to happen under her supervision. She herself was intending to see it, so it wasn't much of a bother. The easiest way to get to someone's heart was to share interest, so Sinistra gained some sympathies towards him as well after several nights of observing the stellar events, so abundant in August. 

Snape shunned the young man away from his little dungeon and forbade access to his classroom and office. Danny's comments about the dinginess of the place and wondrous synergy of the teacher and the classroom certainly had nothing to do with this. Still, he somehow managed to identify items without seeing labels, so there was obviously some knowledge within that raven head of his.

There was a run-in with Filch, the Caretaker, whose title was the opposite of what the old man actually was. The man actually mistook the young man for a wandering intruder and was about to carry him to the Headmaster, but Sir Nicholas's intervention quickly resolved the situation. Filch still believed the young man to be inadequate, and warned of keeping an eye on him. During lunch he liked to bring along his cat, Mrs. Norris, the feline that looked as threatening as its master. She was a couple of kilos of pure hatred towards everyone. 

All in all, Danny seemed to blend into the collective well. And Dumbledore was pleased to hear that. He could only wonder how his teaching would go. 

However, Danny felt that something was amiss. Every now and then he would stumble upon professors conversing and then briefly shutting up when they noticed him. Some professors left during the evenings despite the obvious fact that they lived here. And they certainly didn't go to Hogsmeade, because that's where Danny spent some of his own evenings. He could ask, he wanted to ask. But there was every sign that he was not going to get any answers. Everyone had the rights to keep secrets, himself included. His own project was a nice example of that. 

On the last day of August Danny, just like the entire teaching staff, gathered in the Headmaster's office. Standing in front of his desk, Dumbledore gave them all a playful smile. 

"Good morning to all of you, dearest friends. The beginning of the school year is upon us, and our halls will be teeming with life once again. As usual, some organisational matters. In the absence of Hagrid, Professor Grubbly-Plank shall assume his duties as usual," he pointed at an elderly witch who Danny had rarely seen before. "That also includes bringing in our first-years. There is nothing that should delay the usual procedures. Most of us know how it goes," Dumbledore said with a note of amusement as he glanced at Danny. He obviously waited to see the man's reaction tomorrow. 

"The schedules are on the table as usual. Mr. Fenton, professors should have those, too." 

Danny nodded as a list of paper flew into his hands. He immediately began examining it. It was a comfortable timetable, he could work with it. His teaching always began during the second period at the earliest, so he could have some extra shut-eye. A smirk crawled on his face as he turned his attention back to Dumbledore. 

"There is also another thing. The Ministry seems very curious as to what is happening in our midst. Thus, the Minister has issued a decree. You've read the Prophet, I presume?" 

"I've cancelled my subscription," Sprout said. 

"I never bought one," Danny raised his hand, deciding to put two cents of his own. 

"It's got a wonderful crossword section," Dumbledore smiled, "Keeps my mind quite entertained. But that's not it. To 'make sure that our falling teaching standards are up to the challenge' Cornelius has created the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

Danny now raised an eyebrow.

"That's some weird title," he commented, "It's like they are sending someone to burn the kids on stakes." 

"That is an ill omen," McGonagall seemed to agree. But she didn't look surprised at all. 

"I fully agree, but we still have to show Hogwarts at its best. Ms. Umbridge will arrive tomorrow. Her duties will include visiting your lessons and giving an assessment of your perfomance. I'm afraid to say that she also has the right to dismiss teachers from her post as well." 

Danny shifted uncomfortably. He barely got himself a spot here. Now there was someone who could ruin everything. Dumbledore seemed to notice the discomfort, and his look became heavier. 

"You are right to worry, Mr. Fenton. You see, up until your arrival, Ms. Umbridge was the one Cornelius wanted to see at your position. You are the reason he has to resort to such unprecedented measures, risking to be seen as paranoid by those around him. Now, we do not blame you, of course. One way or another this would have definitely happened. However, you should stay on guard, because it is highly likely she will aim at you more often than at the others."

"Neat," Danny said sarcastically. "Well, can't have it all going my way. I'll do my best."

"That's a good spirit to have. I'm certain that as long as your teaching is adequate, she won't be able to sack you. This applies to everyone, of course." 

With his mind heavier than he would show, Danny spent the remnant of the day. He didn't ponder on this too much. He defeated several gods back in the day. Compared to them, some bureaucrat was nothing. Their entire Ministry was nothing. Danny's finger traced the edge of a tiny cauldron. Its contents boiled, heated by a small alcohol burner beneath. He needed only a tiny fraction. A fraction of active ectoplasm. He needed to kickstart the dormant energies within. He had tried a lot of things, even his own ectoplasm-infused blood, but so far he had no success. The second ectoplasm left the body of a ghost, it was no longer active. If it was not a concentrated burst, but he didn't need explosions in his room. That's what he tried to do at the moment, what his recent experiments were all about. 

"Ugh," he muttered, seeing no results. "Scratching the dittany out." 

He flicked his finger and a quill scratched the plant from the list, moving on its own.

Absolutely incompatible. No reaction at all. Danny sighed, tapping on his chin. His parents were glaring at him from wherever they were. Not only because of his failures, but because he strayed so far from what they still considered science, and not magic. They never liked what their son was, tried to teach him that what his wand did was science. They were just that stubborn. Now Danny was trying to replicate their work without the lab equipment, but instead of bickers and multiple acids he utilised cauldrons and rat spleens. There was a methodology behind this, certainly. Potion making was a science to a degree. Or an art. 

For a moment Danny considered trying to find Snape in the corridors of the castle, but neither was in the mood for that. Perhaps later. Besides, it was Fenton's legendary stubbornness that thwarted any idea of asking that guy for help. 

The next day was extremely important. From the morning Danny remained at the tip of his toes. Early on he put the best clothes he had. Which, admittedly, wasn't much. He was one step away from being a vagabond, but he kept those for a proper situation. Professors weren't obliged to wear uniforms, as long as the outfits were decent. He wore a white half-sleeved shirt and black pants with a silvery trim at the seams, with accompanying black dress shoes and black gloves. He didn't have anything better to wear. That's why he was intending to parade near the professors during the day. If they pointed out that he was dressed too indecently, he would go to Dumbledore and beg for a small payment in advance. That would be quite embarrassing. 

Going out of his room, Danny set out for the stroll. The professors he happened to encounter didn't seem to mind. That's how he spent most of his time in an attempt to unwind after another failure. He had got his bearing of the place just right. His ability to go through walls and fly allowed for quick mind-mapping of the place. Danny had no desire to meet the Inquisitor, so he jumped at the first opportunity he could get. When around noon Professor Grubbly-Plank set off for to prepare for the arrival of children, Danny asked to accompany the elderly witch. Something told the young man that his intentions were clear to her and all others who heard of his request. But Grubbly-Plank didn't address the matter, she was a nice old lady like that. 

However, she could also see that he wasn't happy with this. Danny would prefer to continue his experiments while his schedule was still pretty free. He wouldn't have such luxury in the future, after all. So, sitting at the station was not something he particularly enjoyed. Luckily the old witch found something for him to do.

"Don't fall behind, boy," she instructed, and Danny kept up the pace with the surprisingly nimble lady. 

"Uhm, Wilhelmina, you haven't said what we will be doing." 

"Nothing extraordinary. To get kids to the school we need carriages. And to pull the carriages we need animals."

"So..."

"We need to feed them, you know. And prepare the carriages too." 

They entered the Forbidden Forest. Wilhelmina soon realised that Minerva's story of the boy's strangeness were true. He was sneakier than most creatures she had encountered, and that said a lot. Even so, Danny seemed to realise his mistake of being the cause of concern. Thus, he caught up with the older professor and walked by her side. However, he soon came to a halt upon seeing just what was supposed to carry the students to Hogwarts. There was a herd of horse-like creatures, albeit to call them that would be a stretch. Their faces resembled a dragon, their skin, dark and so thin that the entire skeleton could be seen. From their backs sprouted wings — black, leathery, resembling those of bats. 

"Wait... you are using thestrals for that?" Danny couldn't help but ask in surprise. 

"Don't you worry, our herd here is a friendly bunch. You can see them, huh." 

The young man looked away. "Yeah. For a while by now." 

Ever since he was fourteen, in fact. Although seeing them on the merit of accepting his own death was certainly one way of going about it. 

"Well, this makes it much easier," she obviously chose not to press. "Take off that rucksack and let's get to feeding. No more than one piece for each, no need to spoil them too much. Foals prefer rabbit meat, so if you see such a piece better give it to them." 

Danny nodded at the instructions and approached the grim-looking beings. Despite their haunting appearances, their treatment of the newcomer was almost... cordial. When he dropped the meat before them, the thestrals' reaction was to take a piece and then nudge the young man slightly with their heads. They even seemed to accept his headpats. Thestrals always seemed to get bad reputation, they were a sign of bad omen due to them being seen only to those who had witnessed it. Which seemed like a very backwards logic to Danny's mind. After all, a grim omen after seeing death was not something all that foreboding. In fact, their appearance was merely a reaffirmation. 

With their friendly behaviour it wasn't hard to get them to the carriages. The evening was clear on that day. The Creature Care professor also noted that the boy was... clumsy to an extent. It was understandable, really, it was probably his first time managing the steeds, even those as friendly as this herd. It was probably too early, but better this than making the new arrivals wait for hours. As he and Wilhelmina sat on one of the benches near the station, Danny supposed he could relax after a tiresome process. The first years, as he was told, were taken to Hogwarts by boats. Thestrals were reserved for older students. Still, the amount of carriages was no joke, so he was pretty tired. He closed his eyes, relaxed and leaned back in his seat. Until he was interrupted. 

"Hem, hem." 

It was a very girlish cough, an attempt to call attention. Danny opened his eyes and was immediately assaulted by the barrage of pink. Pink puffy cardigan, pink handbag which didn't seem like you can fit anything at all in it. For a moment Danny thought that she was the owner of that cafe for couples back in Hogsmeade. Such presumption was caused by the oh so similar colour scheme. It was a lady that now celebrated jubilees and not birthdays, if he was to guess her age from the appearance. Her wrinkles, her expression of a frog that had caught a very delicious fly, all made her look like said amphibian. Danny rarely felt negative emotions towards a person he just met, but she didn't look like good news at all.

"Can we help you?" Grubbly-Plank asked. 

"Yes, indeed," the lady responded in a sugary voice. "You are from Hogwarts, am I correct?" She asked, not giving Danny a second look. 

The older professor nodded. "That's right. And you are?" 

"Dolores Jane Umbridge. I was recently appointed as the High Inquisitor. Certainly you've heard." 

A snort and a snicker finally made her pay attention to another person in their midst. 

"I fail to see what's so amusing here," she kept the smile, but, from the tone of her voice, she didn't like this one bit. 

"Well," Danny rolled his eyes. "When the words 'High Inquisitor' are used, a person with your sense of fashion is not something that comes to mind. I certainly expected someone else. Not to offend of course." 

"Is this your helper?" Umbridge asked Wilhelmina. "He surely could use some manners." 

"He is actually a professor." 

The guest's eyes widened a bit. "It appears Cornelius chose just the time for me to intervene. This is simply inexcusable."

"I'm still standing here," Danny said. "And so far you are being the bigger piece..." 

"Daniel, I think we've lost one of the thestrals on our way here. Would you kindly count them all?" 

He knew what the fellow professor was trying to do. To give him an excuse to leave without ruining his chances at the very start. As long as he didn't have to cross paths with her until the dinner. To think he had stumbled upon her by trying to avoid. 

The four long tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, still a reflection of the sky above it. The candles floated in midair, and in their flickering light was basked the entirety of the vast room, every nook, cranny, ghost and eager students. The chatter, the shouting of greetings of long-separated friends made the Hall simmer with life like a cauldron left on fire. And as he passed the rows of students, Harry Potter noticed people putting their heads together to whisper; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

He knew the cause of those whispers. Over the course of summer he suddenly stopped being the Boy Who Lived and quickly morphed into an attention-seeking puppet of the power-seeking Headmaster. He had his own reasons to be angry with Dumbledore — all the secrets and lies the old wizard fed him for the entirety of summer, but the Headmaster was most certainly not using him for some unknown goal. Lord Voldemort came back to life, and he had to live with that fact, all alone, during several months of summer break. And all those rumours circulating around him, their apotheosis of ignorance, was seen during the trial at Wizengamot. That certainly made the news too, giving even more meat to the vultures. 

Luna, their newest Ravenclaw acquittance, quietly drifted away from him and his friends to join her housemates. The moment they reached Gryffindor's table, Ginny Weasley sat alongside her own friends, one year younger than Harry; he, his friends Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom found seats together about halfway down the table between Sir Nicholas and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly-friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall. However, soon, his redheaded friend nudged him.

"Ehm, Harry. Is it only me or is there a student sitting near Snape?" 

Ron's remark made not only him, but Hermione as well look at the table and seek the one he had mentioned. And to their surprise, there was indeed a young, raven-haired man sitting by the professor. He seemed to be chatting with Severus about something, albeit the man in dark robes was reluctant to respond. Furthermore, every fibre of his being told the teens that that conversation was an unwanted one. From the movement of his lips they could see that his answers were concise and did not seem to satisfy another man. 

"Yes. It is not just you," Harry responded. "What gives?" 

"I don't know," Hermione uttered a sentence that was unbecoming of her. "But he is obviously not a student. I've never seen him before." 

"Well, you ain't the most sociable person around, 'Mione," Ron shrugged, earning himself a brisk glare. "You can't know everyone around." 

"I am a prefect, too, Ronald, for your information." 

"Guys," Harry broke them out of their little argument. "Hagrid isn't there." 

His friends once again followed his gaze, immediately noticing the lack of one half-giant.

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," declared Harry without a shadow of a doubt.

"You don't think he's ... hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.

"No," came a firm response. 

"But where is he, then?"

Harry leaned forward, trying to not let any extra ears to hear. "Maybe he's not back yet. You know, from his mission, the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

"Yeah ... yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence. "You think that guy is his replacement for a time?" 

"No," said Hermione absent-mindedly. "Grubbly-Plank is there, too. Besides, he is way too young to teach. Who's that?" she asked, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

And her finger just so happened to land in the centre, right near Dumbledore. At one Dolores Umbridge. 

In the meantime, Danny was too busy to notice the witch talking to Dumbledore. He found pestering Snape much more enticing.

"I'm telling you, Severus, those were green glowing octopuses!" He told the annoyed wizard who had no ability to leave the Feast.

"Your stories get less and less original as they go," a comment followed. 

"Is that supposed to be my fault? Alright. Alright, I got it. You have no appreciation for my wondrous adventures. I actually wanted to ask you for something."

The feeling of dread rose in the Potion master's stomach. 

"No."

"You haven't even listened!" 

"Should have thought twice before emitting all that white noise." 

Danny pouted. "You are mean, Severus. I wanted to ask... for your help in my project that, at the moment, demands certain knowledge."

"That you seldom have." 

"Harsh, but... true. You are a potions professor. Certainly you have the expertise."

"I do and I see no reason to educate someone who is supposed to teach himself."

"I'm not teaching the potions, right? I have a reason for you, Severus. We can advance the alchemic science! I'm positive nobody ever tried to accomplish what I want to do."

"What is the purpose? Is that potion you are making of any use, even?" 

"Well, it is not a potion per say, rather making one ingredient into a new one, namely ectoplasm." 

"Ectoplasm," Snape huffed, "It is completely pointless. It is an otherworldly substance. By definition it does not interact with what we have." 

"My parents somehow managed it, Severus. I may not have their tools, but I know for a fact that there is a way around it. That's why I want to strike a deal with you." 

"Not now," Severus declared, leaving no room for arguments. 

Danny wasn't sure if an opportune moment would ever come, but he didn't have time or opportunity to rebut the attempt at closing the discussion. For before he could say anything, the doors of the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall went inside, leading a line of scared-looking eleven-year olds. She carried a worn-out hat in her hands, and Danny raised a confused eyebrow. The local rituals seemed rather bizarre. He was about to ask the man he loved to pester, but once the witch approached a stool that was in front of the staff table, she summoned a scroll and decided to explain it all, to the quiet gratitude of the half-ghost, even if it was an explanation directed to the oblivious kids. 

"When I say your name, sit right here and I shall place the hat on your head. When it declares to what house you belong, join your housemates at the table." 

That also brought up another question. Danny turned to Severus, and he was not escaping from that one. Or so he thought, the young man hadn't expected the hat to begin singing. It was so sudden that Fenton didn't even know how to react to this. However, as he listened to the lyrics, he got the odd feeling that it wasn't normal for it to give a veiled warning. From the faces of the older students, from their whispers, the fragments of which reached his sensitive ears even through the applause, Danny could guess that that song was a part of an entirely new album. 

As Minerva began calling out the names of the newest arrivals, Danny diverted his attention back to the Potions professor.

"How does the hat decide it?" He asked. 

"It is a powerful Legilimency artefact," Severus said, not expecting to hear a continuation. 

"Really? You dig into the heads of small kids? That sounds... morally dubious." 

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted, startling the young man. 

"It is the tradition," Snape gave a small glare, as if his previous expression was not antipathetic enough. "They are too young to hold some skeletons in the closet. And the hat does not divulge anything." 

Honestly, he was surprised that the boy knew of Legilimency. However he was unsure if the young professor knew the ways of resisting it. If so, it was another mystery to add to the man who was more than he let on. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

Danny leaned back in his seat, hearing his stomach grumble. He wanted to get to the good part where they stuffed their stomachs. Slowly the line of new students thinned, and once the girl named "Zeller, Rose" was Sorted into Hufflepuff as well, Danny saw the old Headmaster rise to his feet, as Minerva marched away with the hat and the stool. 

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands, welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Danny joined in with the appreciative laugh, as the table before him filled up with all sorts of food, so much of it that Danny feared that the joints of the table would give up. Smiling at the Headmaster eagerly throwing his beard behind shoulder so as not to get hair in his dinner, the young professor began eating as well. He was not blind, he saw the glances of students thrown his way. To some extent, he took pleasure from this situation. He felt like an exemplary student that was praised by the teacher and used as an example of what one should be like. He never got that feeling before. He was by no means a bad student during his years at Ilvermony or muggle school before that, he was just... average. At the moment it felt like it was more than just earning money and finishing his work. Now he was given a chance to show how much he had changed since then. 

Danny decided to finally leave Severus alone, and the latter was certainly happy with the arrangement. As happy as he could be, that is. Danny turned to his left side, and began an enticing dialogue about the coming eclipse with Professor Sinistra. There wasn't much substance to it, with them too busy eating. The feast was not endless, however, and eventually, when everyone was stuffed, Dumbledore decided to speak again. Danny didn't really want to listen. He wanted to sleep. 

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door. We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Fenton, our new Defence Against Dark Arts teacher." 

A round of confused, hesitant applause followed. Still, Danny gave his nod and a small smile. They would come around, he could understand their surprise. 

"And also, we are ought to introduce Miss Umbridge, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. I'm certain that..."

"Hem, hem." 

Without asking, without a warning Umbridge stood up, and it was obvious to everyone that she intended to give a speech of her own. Danny was quite certain that that's not how things went around here. It was rude, uncalled for, and she could at least wait until Dumbledore was finished. Still, the Headmaster didn't seem to mind, he simply went back to his seat, his eyes curiously eyeing the newcomer. He showed every bit of desire to hear her speak. 

"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish. Danny held an instinctive rush of negative emotions just hearing her speak.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Danny saw none of that in the Hall. And he would know, he had what amounted to the first row. 

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends! The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching..."

She gave a glance towards the youngest professor, but quickly continued, the rest of her speech vanishing within a metaphorical fog. Danny listened to her go on and on, but the meaning of her words was lost to him for the larger part. She obviously had no experience with crowds and how speeches were meant to be delivered. He looked at her, but his eyes were glassy — his mind was currently elsewhere. His boredom was probably ill-concealed, because under the table he received a knee kick by Professor Snape that got Danny out of his dull stupor. 

"...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Danny didn't like that part at all. He heard the underlying message directed at him as well. She thought little of him, so he would be only glad to indulge him. Danny took a small sip of pumpkin juice, his eyes never leaving Umbridge as she went back to the table. Dumbledore stood up again, thanked Umbridge for her speech, which, to Danny's mind worked as a perfect lullaby, he himself continued to elaborate on some scholarly affairs. The young professor was hooked on the prospect of seeing Quidditch matches, and his expression brightened up just a bit. And then he saw stares once again. The fact that he saw Nicholas conversing with some students at the same time made the young man raise his eyebrow. 

"Blimey, the guy's look is giving me creeps," Ron muttered. 

"You are exaggerating, Ron," responded Hermione, "Why is he looking at us, though?" 

"Well, I am a celebrity, don't you know?" Harry gave a sarcastic remark. "Is he really our teacher?" 

"You heard Dumbledore. How could he let someone so young to teach?" The bushy-haired girl voiced her slight frustration, "We have O.W.L.s this year!"

"Maybe the Ministry told him?" Harry offered, "That Umbridge woman obviously is here to control everything. This may be one of the ways to do it." 

"I don't think so," Hermione shook her head. "He doesn't seem to like her as well." 

"Why not both?" Asked Ron, "They might work there, but not like each other." 

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sir Nicholas said, "Daniel is a wonderful young man. Sanguine, too. And he is extremely proficient, I assure you." 

"How do you know all this, Nick?" Questioned Ron.

Despite his past, insulting attempts at speaking through the filled mouth, Nick decided to indulge the red-headed prefect, not noticing that not only the trio was listening, but almost everyone nearby.

"He's been staying here for almost month," The ghost answered smoothly, "We had a lot of chances to talk and interact. He just came here one day and asked for a job. I don't know how he did it, but the Headmaster and Professor Flitwick were greatly impressed. You are in good hands, I assure you."

"That sounds shady," muttered Ron. 

"Don't let him hear you say that," pointed out Harry, looking at the professor in question, making their eyes cross. Professor Fenton only smirked and tilted his head. 

"I hope you are right, Sir Nicholas," Hermione said, "This is the worst time for us to have an incompetent DADA teacher. Especially with... you know." 

With Voldemort lurking around, that's what she meant to say. People needed to know how to protect themselves, they had to. How could someone so young be a professor of such a subject? Guess he would have to wait until the first DADA lesson began. 

The following day for the trio was, how to put it, an exhausting one. The first subject was the History of Magic. One would think that learning about the rebellions of goblins and wars with giants was enticing, but the teacher, a ghost under the name of Professor Binns, managed to make even the most intriguing story into a sleep-inducing tool Umbridge would be envious of. He was always sleepy, his voice was drowsy and it was to be expected. He burned alive in the fireplace once he fell asleep near it. And as such, since these echos of human lives were an exact, unchanging copy of the being at the time of death, this behaviour never changed, the lessons remained the same. It was hard for Harry and Ron to pass, and it was entirely the courtesy of their diligent friend, reluctant and scolding as she was. 

Next, were the potions. This went without any changes on Snape's part. Potions master stated clearly that after that year, shall a student take an O.W.L. in his subject and not achieve the highest grade, they would be bidding their farewells. His pleasure at the prospect was not hidden at all. In the end, the usual treatment of Potter from the teacher was to be observed. Harry failed to brew the Draught of Peace, 'a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation'. And as a result, he received a lot of humiliating scolding targeting him in particular. 

Ron and Hermione joined Harry in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain was lashing the high windows.

"That was really unfair," said Hermione in an attempt to console her friend, sitting down next to Harry and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

Neither of the others answered; all three of them knew that Snape and Harry's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts.

"I did think he might be a bit better this year," said Hermione in a disappointed voice. "I mean ... you know ..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table " ... now he's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," snapped Hermione.

Harry had enough of their pointless arguments. Snapping at their friends to cut it out, he left the Great Hall without eating properly. 

Perhaps, after meeting again in Divination class, he regretted not eating that pie. Because his friends conceded, but his stomach was just as empty. Divination was, just as expected, a pile of rubbish to everyone who wasn't Trelawney herself. The lady predicted Harry's death more times than he dared to count. She didn't give as much care to the exams, probably realising deep inside that nobody in their right mind would sit an exam on her subject of all things. Still, the professor decided to prepare the kids for the subject. And thus ordered to keep a sleep diary for the whole month. It didn't seem hard, but the hustle was more than it was worth. Already, and Ron didn't fail to mention the fact, they got a ton of homework from each subject so far, be it a lengthy essay on giant wars or moonstone. Their only hope were the upcoming couple of lessons with the biggest unknown of this year. 

The DADA classroom remained unchanged. The professor in question was absent, but both the Slytherins and Gryffindors took their seats. The timing was tight, and the lesson was supposed to begin soon after they sat. Some believed that the professor would be late, but, to disprove their words, the sound of the closed door rang across the room. His timing was perfect. Professor Fenton, dressed in the same shirt and pants as yesterday, went to the front of the class. He wasn't noticed immediately by everyone, but his call made the class go a bit quieter. The new teacher was an enigma, so they didn't know how harsh the discipline would be. 

"Alright, settle down, people!" He said, turning to face the students, a small smile on his face. "I know that the beginning of this year is exciting for you all, but you will have the time to talk afterwards. You already know who I am, but even so, I am Daniel Fenton, your professor for this year. I am twenty, if anyone is curious. But don't be discouraged, for I assure you, my knowledge is plentiful enough. I sincerely hope that our work will be fruitful. As you all have been told the importance of this year, I will probably have little to say that will be new to you about it. As you know, this year you will be taking the Ordinary Wizarding level exam..."

He lightly moved his finger as he talked, and everyone could see the letters on the blackboard being written by a floating piece of chalk. From the faces of some students he could obviously see surprise. But he didn't stop his small talk to address it. 

"The standards for the subject have been rather... inconsistent," he said, making the kids fear the repetition of yesterday's lecture as he paced around the room slowly. "It was bound to leave gaps and white spots in your education, and I severely doubt that the person checking your results will be kinder due to that reason. However! I recommend you not to think that the exam will result in your decapitation. Of course it won't. It is just an exam, and with proper studying you will ace them with no problems. It's not the end of the world. This subject is more than letters in a book that you, hopefully, bought as was instructed. No, the main exam of this subject is your future life. Because the creatures you can meet may just want to kill you, be it a Grindylow or a Death Eater." 

Harry could feel most of the class stiffen. He himself was surprised at how easily the professor talked about the followers of the Dark Lord. His friends probably had the same reaction. 

"So, expect this, students," He stopped near the desk, "We will go over the material that you have already seen and may encounter in your exam. Not only that, but this is also the year during which you shall continue your path to becoming someone capable of protecting yourselves. That's pretty much it." 

Upon giving another look around the room, his smile turned into a smirk. "Now, however, you won't be needing wands for the next half an hour. Please take out your quills."

The students looked at each other and at the teacher questionably. The dour mood was present in the air, for in their minds an order to put away the wands was a sentence to boredom. Harry took his quill and ink, while the professor lazily moved his palm, and pieces of parchment slowly flew from his table and before each student. The colours seemed to drain from everyone's faces upon reading what was there. Ron's face especially. Hermione's hand shot up at an instant, and the professor noticed.

"Yes, miss..."

"Granger," she said. "Professor, don't you think it is too early for a test? It is our first lesson." 

Many students seemed to agree, some nodded.

"A valid question," Professor Fenton responded with a note of amusement and put his gloved hands inside his pockets. "Now, I see the dread in your eyes. The purpose of this test is to determine what are the aforementioned gaps for each one of you. Whether they can be resolved by simple reading to refresh the memory or by deep extra studying we shall see in the future. Don't worry, the results here are not going to harm your grades in any way. This should serve as a guideline to you and me, nothing else. If you get a good result, I may just add a couple of points to your house, too," he winked, "You have thirty minutes, please, begin." 

Harry looked down at his parchment, surprisingly calm. That's not what he would like to do, nor what he had expected to. Ron was already seemingly fuming, but he was still writing the answers where he could. Harry examined the questions closer. 

'Name the places where imps choose to nest in'

'Draw the wand movement required for Homorphus Charm'

'State the way of weakening Kappas'

There was about twenty questions in total. The professor wasn't kidding when he mentioned white spots. Those were the topics covered during the previous years, and to say that Harry didn't have difficulties was a lie. The questions from the last year did not evaporate from his mind completely, so he did write something. Professor Lupin, from his third year, was a proficient man, so the topics covered back then also found their reflection in his answers. But the first and second... that was the swamp Harry dedicated most of his time towards. Harry also took time glancing around. Hermione's parchment looked ready to get set on fire from the quill movements. Ron was chewing on his. Neville in the back of the class looked ready to faint. Malfoy, surprisingly, seemed to be in not so bad position. Not wishing to lag behind, Harry looked back to his paper and continued his attempts. 

"Alright, everyone," Professor Fenton clasped his hands and got attention. "Time's up. Just put away your quills and let the parchment rest on the tables."

Harry's test floated right under his quill and floated to the teacher's desk. The Professor then coughed and continued to talk. 

"Splendid. Can't wait to start the paperwork," he commented. "Our schedule should be like this. From now on we shall dedicate our first lesson of Monday to revising the material. The second we will devote to the entirely new information. Yes?" He saw a raised hand. 

"Dean Thomas. Does that mean we get two separate homeworks?" The dark-skinned boy asked with concern. 

The professor chuckled. "The revision is once a week. The new material is taught twice. Revision depends mostly on how well you do personally. And, of course, the amount of work will largely vary with your desire to partake in the O.W.L.s. Or lack thereof. However, until I check your tests, you can rest easier. Any other questions concerning the program? No? Very well. Then let us get to the good part," he smiled warmly as his ice-blue eyes seemed to spark. 

"What do you kids reckon to be the most common spell in the field we are currently studying?" 

Several hands shot up in the air. The professor seemed to be inviting students to speak with his gaze and gestures. 

"Knockback jinx?"

"A bit simplistic. And also rudimentary."

"Petrificus Totalus." 

"You'll die before you pronounce it." 

"Expelliarmus."

The professor raised his finger, looking at Harry with a smile. 

"Now that is closer to the truth, Mr. Potter. It is correct that the spell is indispensable in many cases, because even giants have clubs that can be taken away. Can you name the inventor?" 

Harry faltered and reddened a bit. He didn't know. It was his most common fighting spell, and yet he didn't know such details.

"I don't know, sir," he admitted.

"Well, maybe someone else, then?" The professor asked. "Ms. Granger." 

"It is actually unknown who created it. Some speculate that it was created in Madagascar in the XI century. Some think Merlin invented it, but most believe that the inventor is Elizabeth Smudgling."

"Madagascar seems far-fetched, don't you agree?"

"Well, the natives probably didn't speak latin," Hermione thought aloud. 

"Indeed. Nonetheless, it is the historians' fault, not yours. Two points to Gryffindor. You kids have studied the spell in your second year, if I am not mistaken." 

"Studied is a strong word, sir," Seamus Finnigan said. "Lockhart was a joke."

"Really now?" The professor raised an eyebrow. "And what happened?" 

"After Professor Snape beat him with this single spell, he was so frustrated that he was reluctant to teach it." 

Fenton whistled. "I will need to ask Severus about it. If such is the case, those who know how to use the spell, please raise your hands."

Around half of the students raised their hands, and Fenton's lips thinned. 

"That's rather... disheartening. Even more reason to begin our practice from smaller things. Any volunteers to help me with the demonstration?" 

Something urged Harry to do just that. To use his most polished spell and possibly get points for that? Sign him up. Harry raised his own hand, and the professor noticed him. 

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Very good. Come stand here," Fenton gestured at the large space between his desk and those of students'. As Harry slowly got up, the professor continued. "I think we should also take a practitioner from another house for the sake of balance..." he searched for volunteers amongst the snakes. "And you are..."

"Zabini." 

"Wonderful!" The professor said jovially. 

Harry gave a glance to Malfoy. Their own memory of the duelling club back in their second year was still fresh in their minds. It gave the teen some pleasure seeing his rival so reluctant to come out. Although Harry himself was not sure what was going on within the professor's mind. 

"Now what I am asking from you is to demonstrate the use of the spell on each other. Yes?" 

"Isn't it the teacher's job to give demonstration?" 

Despite the rude undertones of Parkinson's question, Fenton decided to indulge her. 

"Indeed. But our situation is not traditional either," he said, taking a step back and letting two students face each other. "Alright, who goes first?" 

"Expelliarmus!" Zabini shouted, effectively disarming Harry. His wand jumped out of his hand and rolled under Neville's table. The Gryffindor tried to dig it out from there. Harry glared at the dark-skinned Slytherin, while the professor coughed. 

"That is a violation of duelling ethics, Mr. Zabini," he commented sternly. "However, this is an exemplary casting and a good experience for you, Mr. Potter, and everyone present. Always be ready for the attack. In a real fight all dirty methods count."

Harry nodded begrudgingly and took the wand from Neville. At the professor's nod, the teen casted a spell of his own. And despite's Zabini's strongly clutched hand, the wand slipped out as if covered in oil, flying across the room. 

"Splendid," Fenton clasped his hands. "Now, notice this, students. The accent is placed on the second syllable 'Pel'. Mr. Potter, could you picture the hand movements on the blackboard?" 

Harry nodded and approached it, picking up a piece of chalk. The writings from before had been long since wiped with a piece of cloth. The teen pictured the movement — a spiral and a straight diagonal line preceding it. Harry looked at the teacher, who gave an enthusiastic nod. 

"Good. You may take your seats, gentlemen," and as the children returned to their seats, the professor kept speaking. "Aside from being utilised for disarming, Expelliarmus can effectively defend you from Dark Charms directly. Obviously it won't protect you from the Killing Curse, but you will be safe from minor and moderate ones, if your aim is adequate..."

Harry saw Hermione vigorously taking notes from the young man's lecture. As did some others. Not wishing to lag behind, he also took notes, albeit with less enthusiasm. He had some first-hand experience, he knew that part. And so did the teacher, from the seems. With him being so youthful, he left Harry impressed at how much Fenton knew about a spell as simple as this. After several torturous classes, this one was a welcomed outlet. In such way they slowly crawled towards the end of the lesson. Between his explanations, he also called out the students who already could cast the spell and evaluated them. When the professor looked at the clocks, he smiled.

"Well, the first class is about to end. Your homework for this week shall be as follows..." He took a list. "We need every student of this class to be capable of using this spell. And so as not to spend too much time on this, we will assign every knowledgeable student to the less successful one."

Neville seemed nervous, Harry noted. Yes, the professor decided to take it upon himself to assign partners. Fenton's smirk was a herald of the bomb about to be dropped. 

"Did I mention that you are helping a student from the other house?" 

The class fell absolutely silent, before a wave of confusion and outrage rolled over the class. The professor first waited for the noise to die down, but it didn't. Harry himself was appalled by the prospect of having to help a snake. Heaven forbid him from having to help Draco's henchmen. Finally, Fenton sighed and coughed.

"QUIET!" He exclaimed.

The sudden booming voice forced everyone to fall silent. Despite losing his composure for a moment, the professor soon returned to his usual behaviour. He rubbed his temples and continued.

"The word is final, everyone. Now allow me to explain the workings further, based on example. A Gryffindor assigned to a Slytherin. Shall the latter succeed, both houses get points, and the one being taught earns more. Shall the latter fail, I will take away the points equally. And even that equal number is bigger than what one may earn, so don't even think of attempting sabotage. These instructions are at the bottom of the list. Feel free to copy those, I will leave it at the door of my office later. If you need to practice, seek me out and I will observe your attempts. We don't need traumas and detentions for unsanctioned use of spells. Now, come take a look at the list and take a break. You have time before the second lesson." 

As he finished, the bell chose to ring. Giving everyone a nod, the professor went back to his office. The pandemonium was unleashed, as every student wished to see who they were paired up with. And thus, they created a huge crowd in front of the desk, pushing each other away. Harry chose to stay aside and let the crowd disperse a bit. Hermione was of the same mind, while Ron actively partook in the entire mess. One after another, the teens emerged from the crowd, disgruntled, scared or frustrated. 

"Well, that was... something," commented Harry, more into the air. 

Ron emerged from the crowd as well, looking pissed as all hell. 

"That crazy git!" He raised his voice and landed back in the seat.

"It's so bad?" Asked Harry. 

"Goyle, Harry. I have to help out Goyle of all people. Do you realise how screwed we are?! It's as if our git professor decided to make the entire class hate him!"

"And me?" Harry inquired, afraid to hear a response. 

"Crabbe."

The dark foreshadowing of Harry's seemed to be to the point. And his mood took a nose-dive that very instant. 

"What even is the point?" He muttered. 

"Well..." Hermione started. "You heard the hat. It wants every house to work together. Perhaps Professor Fenton took it to heart and tries to bring everyone together." 

"This is bollocks," responded Ron. "Ain't no way I am working with them. Hermione, their parents are Death Eaters!" He whispered. 

"But the professor doesn't know that. You heard how he talks, he is not even from Britain."

"'Mione, he assigned you to Parkinson." 

Hermione remained silent for a while. "We ARE doomed."

Her declaration was so unbecoming of her that both of her friends were taken aback. 

"He obviously doesn't know how things are done here," Said Ron. "But... he is a good teach. Maybe."

Harry nodded, "Yeah. He probably knows the stuff. Certainly better than Quirell."

"The same guy that had You-Know-Who in the back of his head? Like, literally?" 

The trio chuckled. 

"He is odd, though," pointed out Hermione. 

"Well yeah, he dumped teaching the biggest dumdums on us."

"He did not just walk away and told us this. Remember how the practice should be done? Don't go to the courtyard and just tell Goyle to try the spell. You both will get kicked out of school."

"If it shows Goyle out..."

Hermione's glare was enough to stop Ron before he could finish his blasphemous thought. Then she saw pale Neville landing nearby. 

"Neville?" 

"Malfoy is going to assist," he answered the obvious question, and the trio's faces turned horrified. 

"Neville, you should go talk to the professor. Malfoy will be the death of you."

"I know," the clumsy boy mumbled. 

"It isn't so bad, is it?" 

Everyone jumped out of their seats at the sudden voice. They looked in direction of the sound, and saw that the professor was standing there, confusion on his face. 

"P-professor!" Neville yelped.

"How... long were you standing there?" Asked Ron fearfully. 

In response he only got a smirk. "No, I didn't hear you call me git," he said innocently. And now the redhead paled. "I remember when I had to nurture a bag of flour alongside the lady that wanted to murder me. Muggle studies. Don't ask."

"Ehm... why are you bringing that up, sir?"

"I'm saying that it cannot be that bad."

"You are mistaken, Professor," said Harry, "Neville and Malfoy are the worst combination there is."

Fenton sighed, "We'll talk about it after the lesson. It's your last one for today, right?"

Upon receiving nods, he gave one of his own. "Okay, then. Stay after class if you wish to discuss it." 

The professor strolled to the front of the class again. 

"Blimey. How did he sneak up on us so easily? I haven't heard anything. It's like he apparated."

"You can't apparate in Hogwarts. And it is also very loud." 

"I can't believe that guy," Ron shook his head and sat at his spot. 

The class went into motion, as the students slowly began sitting at their desks. Harry could see the professor dismissing everyone and telling them to take their seats. Fenton sat on the desk and waited, and very soon the bell rang again. He immediately hopped off and began speaking after the ringing came to an end. 

"Very well, students. Let us go straight into action without further ado. The first subject we shall cover..." 

"Hem, hem."

Chapter Text

The eyes of every person in the room were now turned towards the entrance. There, clad in cardigan and with a small notepad in her hands, stood the High Inquisitor herself. Her smile was reminiscent of a toad satisfied with the fly she had caught. Professor Fenton looked at her with concern.

"Do you need cough medicine, Dolores?" He asked, and only a fool wouldn't notice how feigned his feelings were. 

Several students snickered at his greeting. Whether Umbridge noticed his jab or not, she still went forward with the same ugly smile. 

"Thank you for your concern, Professor. However, I am more than healthy. And it is Miss Umbridge." 

"Whatever you say," Fenton shrugged. 

"No, no. This just won't do. You should respond 'Yes, Ms. Umbridge.' So we know that we are on the same page." 

Everyone in the room shot her incredulous looks. She made demands of him as if the professor was a little student. Fenton, however, looked largely unfazed. 

"Is there a reason you are here, Dolores?" 

"I told you how to address me."

"And that's why you are still a Miss at your age. I repeat my question."

He obviously was not backing down. From the start it was promising to be an interesting confrontation. Harry diverted his entire attention to it, wondering how his new professor would act around the woman from the Ministry. It would probably affect his general attitude towards the man. Dolores herself seemed perplexed at such stubborn return to square one, but the question had been asked. 

"Why, to evaluate the courses, of course. You don't mind my presence, I hope?" 

It was a rhetorical question, of course. The teacher shrugged again. 

"As long as you don't disrupt the process. You can take a seat." 

The only free seat was in the very back of the class. That, coupled with his dismissive tone, foreboded troubles and showed his attitude just right. Dolores stayed in her spot. "No, thank you, I think I will stay here. I didn't manage to visit your first lesson, professor, but what were you doing then? You said 'the first subject'." 

"Ah, that," The professor rubbed the back of his neck. "We were busying ourselves with revision." 

"That is a proper way," Dolores said, "And what was that?"

"You can ask this after class. We really need to get going." 

"But I am asking this now." 

She received a minor glare. "Disarming Charm."

Her eyes widened a bit, "At your first lesson?"

"Practice makes perfect, as they say." 

She quickly scribbled something in the notepad. "And said practice was conducted using wands, I presume." 

"They are not for picking your nose, you know," Rebutted Fenton. Again with the scribbles. 

"You have received the notifications from the Ministry about our standards."

"So that's what it was!" The Professor's expression lit up in a mock realisation. "My fireplace was dying off, you see..."

The expression of the Inquisitor was almost comical, and Harry couldn't resist a snort of laughter. He wasn't alone in that sentiment, it appeared. 

"Such... such disregard will never..."

"I was kidding, Dolores. But since those recommendations were stupid, I decided to ignore them."

"This brutal ignorance will lead to severe repercussions, Mr. Fenton." 

"Dolores," Fenton sighed, giving every sign that this discussion bored him. "You are taking up our precious time." 

"This time," she almost snapped. "Will be wasted unless you adhere to the standards created by our best specialists." 

"You should fire them, then," the professor responded, not batting an eye. "Not a single defensive spell in the program. This goes against the whole point of this subject. It has 'Defence' in the title, for crying out loud." 

"You are not a Ministry-approved expert to be the judge of that, professor. Someone much more capable and experienced than your young self has devised this program," Umbridge made a step towards him. "Students are meant to study in a safe, risk-free way."

"This won't be useful at all," Harry suddenly spoke up. "Even if we use the spells out there, it won't be in safe..." 

"I didn't ask you, Mr. Potter," responded Umbridge.

Harry was about to protest again, but then he saw the professor was swiping his palm across his neck in a universal gesture of keeping one's mouth shut. Umbridge, with her back turned towards the man, completely missed the gesture. 

"He is correct," the professor said. "Dark Creatures don't just sit and listen to your arguments. And they don't wait until you remember what that one book told you." 

"Are you implying that children are going to be attacked during your classes?" Umbridge's irritating smile came back. 

"No, I am not..." 

"Then what is the..." 

"We both can interrupt, Dolores," the professor snapped. "If you listened, the amount of your questions would have been much smaller. Danger can come from anywhere. Mere theory will not suffice." 

"There is nothing dangerous within this school." 

A triumphant grin threatened to split the man's face, "So you are saying that you are not needed here?" 

Without even waiting for the response from the frustrated toad lady, he continued. "By 'anywhere' I mean anywhere, Dolores. Your Ministry did jack shit when it came to a giant snake slithering around. You just tried to toss the Headmaster into Azkaban. Without sending a single auror to deal with the actual issue. It is YOU who let soul-sucking demons near the children. And yet you have the AUDACITY to teach me about how I am supposed to follow YOUR safety standards? You are a bunch of incompetent crooks who are ready to risk the kids' lives in the future so that your own pathetic paranoia will be put to rest. There are dangers out there, too." 

Umbridge looked ready to burst like an overheated kettle, "I will get you fired for such words," she hissed. "There is nothing dangerous out there."

"Really?" The professor crossed his hands.

"Yes. Really. What do you even think will attack the students?" 

"Well, one such student was attacked, correct? Avada Kedavra is not some common cold you catch without your scarf, Dolores."

"Are you insinuating..." 

"That Voldemort is back?"

Ron gasped; Harry stared wide-eyed at the professor; A little scream was heard from some place in the room; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Umbridge glared at the man who dared utter the name in her presence. 

"I wouldn't go that far," Fenton added. "Even if he may have Horcruxes for all I know."

Harry perked up. He had never heard of Voldemort having those things, whatever they were. But from how the professor chose to put it, it was actually something the dark wizard could try. 

"What even is this?!" She demanded to know, earning herself a huff.

"And you actually wanted to become a teacher instead of me. The threat of Death Eaters is more than tangible, Dolores. Not to mention that you can always buy a bestiary and just go over the list of things that can kill you. We've already lost so much time for such pointless talk. If you do not intend to watch the teaching process, you are free to go," he said, as if addressing a rowdy student, "You have already made up your mind." 

"No, I think I will stay. After all, there are standards to uphold," she declared, as if she had won the argument by that phrase alone.

She still had to take a seat in another end of the class. Peering right into Harry's back. He already loathed that woman, having her at such vicinity was unnerving.

And obviously, not a single word could possibly be said with her so close. Thus, Harry had to make up his mind alone. While the professor already had his sympathies, with how he taught and how thorough he was, his position on the current affairs was what made Harry like the man even more. He was obviously reluctant to make a claim of Voldemort's return, at least in Umbridge's presence. He shut her up so well, but Harry still feared what repercussions would follow. Professor Fenton rubbed his temples, looked at the clocks and coughed. 

"Where was I? Ah, yes. The first subject is... Miss Granger, you want something?" 

"Sorry for taking even more time, professor..."

"Don't sweat it. It is already ruined."

"What are those 'Horcruxes' you mentioned?" She asked. 

The professor's look became much harder, more so than during his argument with Umbridge. 

"Me and my stupid mouth," he muttered, "This is not something you get taught in Hogwarts. You won't find mentions of it in the Restricted Section of the library. This is the most disgusting and secret Dark Art, Miss Granger. That's all I will say, I'm afraid. This is not something you need to know and I would ask you to not bring it up so casually," he said seriously. 

Harry concluded that he still needed to know it. Not to practice it himself, obviously, but if such art could be used by Voldemort, he had to learn what it meant. And from the look in Hermione's eyes, he could guess that she would pester the man with it and try to actually find the information herself. 

"Now, back to the topic of hex-deflection..."

The rest of lesson professor spent giving a lecture on the protective spells, such as those targeting a small area. He explained the incantation, the movements and its brief history. All in a very hurried way, so Harry's hand was hurting by the end of the lesson. Umbridge, thankfully, remained silent for the duration of the lecture. In the end, the professor took a sigh himself.

"For your homework, you will read chapter three of your student books, as well as give the description and incantation of at least fifteen hexes that this spell can protect you from. I won't specify the size, but write more than a brief sentence for each. Dismissed." 

As the students began packing and leaving, Umbridge strolled out of the room without saying any extra words. The Gryffindor trio prevented Neville from leaving, not having forgotten the decision to discuss the boy's pairing with Malfoy. Fenton was sitting at his desk at the moment, writing something on the parchment. As the students approached him, the professor looked up, and the look of realisation appeared on his face.

"Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. So, you were unhappy with your partner, Mr. Longbottom?" He asked. 

"Uhm... I... you see..."

"Professor," Hermione spoke up, "Neville has been bullied by Malfoy ever since the first year. Putting them together is a very bad idea."

The raven-haired man hummed, "Is that so?" 

He received several nods and after that, he sighed. "You must understand that if I change one pair, it will go south really quickly."

"But sir, I don't think Malfoy will even bother with this, house points are not that important to him," Harry pointed out. 

"I was told about him and his family. Along the lines of  'be careful not to upset too much'."

"Professors really say this?" Ron remained wide-eyed. 

"I won't mention the names, though," Fenton smirked. "Families such as this demand good performance. I don't think his family would be happy with him harming the success rate just because he was lazy." 

"But Malfoys hate his family, too. I don't think they will mind if that's the reason."

The professor sighed, leaning back in his seat. For a moment the kids thought that the past argument with Umbridge harmed his willingness to argue more. 

"I'll talk with Malfoy the next time we meet. If there is no progress or he seriously mistreats your friend, don't hesitate to come and tell me. I'll postpone Neville's small exam then and assign one of you instead. Anything else?" 

"Could we also swap..."

Ron didn't finish his sentence, as Hermione nudged the fellow prefect. He obviously wanted to ditch Goyle to someone else. But that would come across as too demanding. Neville had his own, much more important reasons. Then, Hermione spoke up again.

"Thank you, sir. Could I also ask for something?" At his gesture she continued. "You mentioned a letter with recommendations from the Ministry. Could you give it to us, please?" 

Fenton blinked. "Sure, I don't think it is confidential. Let me just fetch it," he said and walked to his office. Soon after he emerged, holding an open envelope in his hand. He handed it to Hermione, who briefly thanked him and turned to leave. 

Ron followed her, and so did Neville. Harry, however, whispered for them to go ahead. Confused, his friends still left, leaving the teen alone with the professor. 

"Something you need, Harry?" He asked. "You don't mind the familiarity, I hope?" 

"Not at all," Harry said.

"It is not a lesson. I don't think we need all those silly honorifics now," the professor smiled. "So..." 

"I was meaning to ask... you can dismiss me, but it is really important." 

"You want to know about Horcruxes," said the professor grimly. 

"How did you know?" Asked Harry in surprise. 

"Please, you and Voldemort are two inseparable topics."

"Why do you call him by name? I've only seen Dumbledore do that." 

"You do so, too. But I guess it's because you are what you are. There are many people and creatures worse than him, Harry. Even among muggles. Especially among muggles," he muttered quietly, surprising the boy, "And if you fear to even say his stupid name that doesn't mean anything, it means he won in some aspects. Why do you want to know about those disgusting things?"

"Because he really is back, professor. And if there is a chance he might use them, I need to know."

Fenton shook his head and got up. "I'm not dismissing you because I don't believe you, Harry. I'm doing it because it really is a very dangerous knowledge."

"So what?" Harry almost snapped, but quickly realised his mistake. "I've never been told anything, sir. I didn't even know what the Ministry wrote about me until I was brought to Wizengamot. I didn't know about Basilisk or other things... It is Voldemort that tries to attack me, isn't this what you warned us about? I need to be prepared!" 

The teacher remained silent for a while, glancing at him, then out of the window, as if Voldemort was right there, flying on a broomstick. 

"Horcruxes are not something used in battle," Danny said as he turned to him, giving hopes to the teen that further explanation would follow. "I don't think you need to know anything beyond that. He is not going to throw them at you." 

"But even if he is using it out there..." 

"You won't be able to do anything. I'm just saying that the force opposing you is too great. I know how you must feel, Harry, believe me, I do. Hell, I was like your friend Neville for most of my school years. You get where I'm going with it?" 

"You are saying I need to get stronger?" 

"Yep. And studying well at least in my subject will do just that."

"But I can't just sit..."

"Can you cast Fiendfyre, Mr. Potter?" Asked Danny, annoyed with the stubbornness. And Harry could only shake his head. "Then you won't even scratch a Horcrux. It is an advanced dark magic, so I seriously advise that you drop it. I'm certainly not going to teach it. I hope you understand."

Harry nodded begrudgingly. The professor was not convinced. 

"Harry. I can't go around teaching dark spells. I'll get fired immediately if I do. Hogwarts will get into another scandal and YOU will be in its middle." 

"But aren't there any other ways?"

The professor shook his head. "All of those ways are dark by nature, just like the objects they can destroy. At least, those that I know of." 

Harry looked at the floor, his hopes of learning something possibly related to the Dark Lord shattered. In truth, Danny knew of one way he himself could destroy a horcrux. He had theorised that a shard of a soul held within could be extracted. It would perish in the open. Supposedly. The professor had never seen one in real life. 

"We don't even know if Voldemort has one, Harry. It was just a small comment I made while I was pissed. Don't pay it too much mind. I also ask not to share the contents of this discussion with everyone you see. After all, if Voldemort happens to know or believes that you know about his actually existing Horcrux, he will stay on guard. So, you should really stay quiet." 

"I understand, sir," Harry said grimly.

"I have a question of my own, actually. I know that after leaving you so anxious it sounds odd, but..." 

"I'll try to answer."

"Do you... you know... think that I teach well?" The professor asked.

Harry was surprised by the sudden change of mood. Fenton now looked more like a fellow student, embarrassed and somewhat confused.

"Be honest. My job depends on it." 

"Sir, you are doing nice," Harry said with a small smile. "Your lesson was informative, too."

And he got a smile in return. "You don't get points for flattery, though," he responded as they both chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Then let's both work hard this year. Go on now, you still have a ton of homework." 

In the end, as he was leaving, Harry was, admittedly, frustrated. Fenton was a really nice person, keeping cool even if Harry may have come across as somebody pulling an answer like a dentist pulls teeth out. But Harry really was tired of everyone keeping secrets from him. Maybe it WAS nothing. But then there were even less reasons to withhold information, were there? 

Danny, in the meantime, frowned and tapped on the ground, now alone in his classroom. That conversation was enlightening not only for the teen, but for him as well. He had never actually thought of such possibility, not that he even cared all that much. However, mistake of nature he himself could be, the Dark Lord's violation of the most basic law of said nature angered the man to no end. Danny was forced into such existence, Voldemort had performed that vile ritual because he, just like other dark wizards before, wished to become immortal. The arrogant fool. Something pulsated in Danny's chest, the desire to finish off that fool rang in his mind. But, he was just a teacher, with no way of attaining the required information. Speaking of information, he needed to also know more about the dreaded High Inquisitor. Guess he would call in a couple of favours. That knowledge was far easier to find. 

"This is insane!" 

Hermione's exclamation snapped the half-asleep Ron out of his trance. The redhead looked back on his parchment with potions homework, and, seeing only the headline, sighed. Harry snapped out of his thoughts, too, wondering what caused such reaction. Then he saw the parchment that Professor Fenton had given her. The one with the Ministry recommendation.

"What is it, 'Mione?" Asked Ron tiredly. 

"Fenton wasn't kidding. This whole program is a joke!" The girl was fuming at this point. "'Conflict avoidance course', 'Theory', 'Fleeing'. All of this is just..."

Harry stared at her. "Are you serious?" He asked in shock, taking the list himself. And, true enough, everything was listed there. Ron glanced at it as well, and his eyes went wide as saucers. 

"They really lost their marbles," The redhead muttered. "Well, makes you glad that Fenton ignores it." 

"He is really risking it," mumbled Hermione bitterly, "If he gets fired, we will be studying this instead."

"He really showed that toad," Ron smirked, but then it quickly fell. "He is in trouble, isn't he?" 

"Umbridge really hates him now," Harry pointed out, "But he didn't seem worried, did he?" 

"Yes. Maybe Dumbledore's got it covered. Or Fenton is just good at hiding things and staying calm. He is the only teacher so far that didn't pester us with how important O.W.L.s are."

"They are important, Ron."

"Yeah, but... I dunno, I just feel much calmer about DADA than the rest. By the way... what did you talk about, Harry?"

The question caught Harry off-guard. 

"Oh, it's... it's nothing important." 

"Come on, Harry, mate," Ron said. "This is an obvious lie." 

"You spoke about Horcruxes, didn't you?" Hermione whispered. 

Harry remained silent, which was an answer enough.

"I see. And what did he say?" 

"That's the whole point. He wouldn't tell. He only reassured me that they are not a curse. I think that Horcrux is an object, with how he spoke about its destruction and how hard it is. Is there any chance we can find something?"

"You heard him. You won't learn anything about it in Hogwarts. And I don't think anyone will like you asking around. It IS dark magic," advised Hermione. "Besides, we have plenty of work to do and without it. I'm sure that if You-Know-Who has a Horcrux, Dumbledore would know and do something about it."

Dumbledore. She was putting so much trust in the man. Harry sombrely noted to himself that even if the old headmaster knew, he would not tell. His friends were even forbidden to write to him during the summer, and it was all on Dumbledore's orders. He was purposely kept in the dark, and Harry was so tired, angry about it. And still, he had no choice but to get to work, even if his mind was not focused on moonstones at all.

Danny didn't know how to feel about his duties in the evening. On one hand, he had other things to do closer to midnight. Other than patrolling the corridors in search of wandering students. On the other, it was probably good not to get cooped up in his study all day. And it was also a nice feeling, akin to the one kids got when they were allowed to stay up until late. Ironically, Danny shared the desire of said students not to encounter one particular caretaker. He wouldn't get into any trouble, mind you, but the conversations with the man smelling of old age tended to be quite unpleasant in any case. The young professor was busy patrolling the area close to his own bedroom, along the serpentine corridor. Occasionally he would encounter a ghost or two passing by. They all gave him worried glances, making him wonder just what rumours were circulating around the undead realm if that was their reaction. 

Not all was bad, however, Sir Nicholas came by, and Danny once again listened to Nick ramble about not being accepted to the Headless Hunt. Again. Danny wished he could fix that issue, but he knew he couldn't, and in response to the ghost's suggestion he gave a professional explanation. Spectres such as Nick were but echoes of their former selves, limited, without a physical form of their own. Yes, Danny could touch them, he could even rip Nick's head off. But it would undoubtedly just reattach itself by that tiny piece of immaterial flesh. For that same reason Bloody Baron was still smeared with blood. Sir Nicholas seemed to remain crestfallen about that fact, but remained polite enough to say thank yous and goodbyes, before flying away. Danny really pitied the local spectres, who were all but incapacitated in their amortality. 

His negative thoughts, however, were quickly got rid of. Danny wasn't the person to dwell on something for a long while. Besides, his hearing was catching something coming from behind one of the doors. The sounds that reminded him of... moans. Quietly approaching one of the older classrooms, Danny swung the door open. What he received were two screams of surprise and a very... intimate scene involving two students. 

Seemingly not bothering with the students, he looked at the robes that lied on the floor near the doors, making out the House emblems just fine under the moonlight coming from the window. 

"Fifteen points from both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor," Danny declared. "Sheesh. Locking up a bunch of teenagers in a castle," he muttered. "Of course it would happen." 

Danny really didn't want to give any detentions. It was as much of a punishment for kids as it was for the teacher, who had to sit and watch over the process instead of doing their own things. 

"Stop staring!" A girl shrieked. 

The professor's look wasn't that of amusement. "The chest department is a bit lacking," he commented quietly. "It's already close to midnight, you two. Go back to your rooms right now and we will do without detentions."

Danny waited outside until the two seven-years emerged, now fully dressed, but extremely angry. 

"Don't give me that look," he said dryly. "Go now. I'll try and forget this incident." 

He was probably too easy on the children. Staying up late usually equalled detentions, but with his rich history of being late to the curfews he was very lenient in such cases. He couldn't help it, even if his reasons, namely fighting very dangerous spectres, were far more understandable than the carnal desires of the youth. Danny watched the teens disappear around the corner, and an idea occurred to him. Maybe he could be even sneakier. With that thought in mind, he vanished from sight, like a half-ghost he was. Not heard, not seen, he could sneak up on anyone and avoid Filch. Quite convenient, because quite soon he would have bumped right into the man. This way, however, Danny just slid past him. 

Last time he checked his watch it was around eleven. He couldn't do that now, while invisible, obviously. So, he probably had another half an hour to spend in those corridors. Neat. His lurking was not rewarding in the least, and he probably got the scorn of two kids already. Danny, not burdened by fears of being seen, skipped the staircases and jumped straight down. Softly landing on the ground, he decided to snag a bite in the kitchen while he was at it. Certainly the house elves wouldn't mind. And they didn't, there were some leftovers from dinner which he took without calling any attention to himself. Phantom was about to return after time very productively spent, and he reached his floor. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, two redheads emerged, startling the professor to no end. 

That's not how it was supposed to go, damn it, Danny mentally cursed. Still, he himself remained unnoticed, and the adolescents seemed to remain in blissful ignorance. The professor followed those twins for some time, seeing them carrying some boxes. Contraband. Narrowing his eyes just a bit, Danny still prepared to enjoy what's going to happen. 

"Well, well," his disembodied voice asked. "What do we have here?" 

The twins turned around, but they saw nothing. Grinning, the professor walked behind their backs again, dropping invisibility.

"A couple of famous troublemakers, I presume?" 

The redheads jumped and met face-to-face with the teacher.

"Professor!" They called in synchrony. "It's not what you think!"

Their shock didn't wear off quickly, but their fear of having been caught was far greater than that of the professor's illusive nature. 

"Open them," he ordered softly. 

Fred and George had no choice but to comply. The guy may have been only three years older than them, but he still had the authority to drag them to McGonagall by the lobes of their ears. Once they opened their small boxes, the professor began examining the contents. Dungbombs, Peace disturbers and fireworks of all things. Danny whistled. 

"Ancients, you plan to blow up the school or what?" He asked. "Nevermind. I'm confiscating this stuff." 

The twins winced. "Sorry, professor," one of them said. 

"But these things are not forbidden in Hogwarts."

"Well, some of them." 

Danny raised an eyebrow and sighed, picking up the boxes. "I don't have the time nor the desire to sort them. Consider this a punishment, you two. And be happy that I have no desire of taking over fifty points from Gryffindor in a single night."

On one hand, the twins were relieved to get away so scar-free. On the other, he took their toys, some of which were their own prototypes that shouldn't be within anyone else's hands. 

"Follow me," the professor ordered. 

Not sure of where he would lead them, the twins had no choice to oblige. However, soon it became clear where the man was going, and a wave of relief passed over them. He was going to their Common room, and with the teacher near them, they had a perfect alibi to be protected from Filch's grasp. Danny came to an abrupt halt near a portrait of a chubby lady in white dress. 

"Alright," Fenton said. "You go in and... ponder on your mistakes or something. Is that what professors have to say?" He mumbled in the end. 

The twins couldn't help but snicker. The guy tried to appear stern sometimes, but it just wasn't his credo. 

"Cut it out, you smartasses," Fenton said. "It's just this time. The next will end with you missing out on Quidditch while writing lines." 

Despite no weight in his tone, the threat itself did the trick just fine. His disappearing act that could make Filch jealous instilled some paranoia as well. How did he do that, by the way?

"Cya!" Danny smiled and left.

"What say you, dearest brother?" Fred asked quietly. 

"We do need our marvels back." 

"That we do. The usual plan?" 

"Indeed." 

In the meantime, in another corridor, Danny rummaged through the box of confiscated items. A huge, devious smirk was on his face as well. 

The next morning came, and after the breakfast Harry was about to head for the Charms lesson. Ron and Hermione yet again had a spat, and now only the redhead was accompanying him. Apparently, the girl's attempts at freeing elves, as well as her knitting abilities did not stand for critique. Soon after they left the Great Hall, however, the two met face to face with Malfoy and his inseparable cronies that he called friends, who were obviously waiting for them. 

"Potter," the blonde called, making both friends stop and look at him. 

"What do you want, Draco?" Asked Harry and narrowed his eyes. Draco chose to ignore this, or, at least, he didn't look more displeased than usual. 

"It's about that moronic assignment."

"You need him to teach you all of a sudden?" Mocked Ron and smirked. 

"Your attempts at humour, Weasley, are long since surpassed by the soles of my shoes."

"What even do..." 

"Crabbe and Goyle are here. You help them, don't you?" 

"Yes..."

"Then do it and arrange the schedule between yourselves. Where is Longbottom?" 

"I don't carry my friends around like henchmen, Malfoy," responded Harry dryly. "You can find him during the common classes. And you better actually help him." 

Malfoy snorted, "I've already given up on that buffoon."

"We haven't refused training these two."

"Good for you," Draco remarked sarcastically. 

"You will get points taken from your house, Malfoy. Maybe even get detention." 

Despite how Harry wanted to get the brat away from Neville, the warning of how the responsibility would fall on him or Ron did somewhat dissuade him from going in that direction. Not yet. There was a ton of work to do and without it. Better try and change the situation here and now, because immediately going to a teacher, no matter how nice they were, and telling on someone was a thing Malfoy himself would do.

"Father won't stand for it."

"So typical of you to bring up your Dad," Harry spat. "And admit that you are helpless without him."

"At least I have one, Potter." 

"At least mine wasn't a Death Eater." 

The glaring match would have gone on for much longer had Ron not interfered. 

"We are going to be late for class," he reminded. 

"Yeah, let's go. You two!" Harry called for Crabbe and Goyle. "We'll talk to you during lunch." 

When the hour came for eating, the Gryffindor trio once again reunited, and the conversations there were not exactly optimistic. Hermione told them that Parkinson would not even talk to her. A bit later Ron and Harry approached two Slytherins with probably the lowest grades in the entire year. Near the entrance to the Hall they tried to arrange the schedule. Harry made it clear that it would not happen on Friday, because Gryffindor tryouts were to happen on that day. Surprisingly, Ron was just as adamant about it, but his friend did not address it, too busy with what he thought was the dumbest exchange he ever had. Come to think of it, it was probably the first time they talked, Malfoy usually was the one doing it instead. The henchmen also did not express much desire to do anything at all. Fenton's endeavour was already showing cracks, it would appear. Thankfully, they agreed on meeting that day after classes and go to Fenton on Wednesday for practicing. That's how other people did it, or so Harry had heard. Maybe it was because many had hopes that the teacher would do the job for them. As he probably should. 

At the time when Harry and his friends were busy, trying to do something about their homework, Fred and George were busy concocting a scheme to take their boxes with tricks back. Their tried and true method was probably not going to work on Filch, but the newbie was most likely unprepared for what was coming. Their plan was simple: to lure the professor away from his room and sneak in, grabbing the goods in the process. They were only going to take the necessities. Since their next lesson was going to be with Fenton of all people, neither side could go there at that time. So they had to act swiftly while Fenton was there, in front of everyone, at the staff table, enjoying his lunch. Since the man had just started, they took it as a cue to leave, unaware that the professor saw them leave. 

The twins quickly got to the required corridor, knowing the school like the backs of their hands. Stopping near the door of the professor's room, they grinned. But the door was locked, so the way in wasn't going to be easy. 

"Cast Alohomora," Fred whispered. 

"You think the guy will make it that easy?" 

"It's worth a try," a shrug followed. 

George pointed his wand at the lock and muttered a spell. To the surprise of the redheads, it opened with no extra resistance. Apparently, the professor had not casted any protective charms on it. Slowly opening the door, the twins went in, their eyes quickly going over what was within the teacher's bedroom. For one, his bed was still a mess, like that of any student who was being late. A mess of equal proportions was on the table, filled with all sorts of equipment and pieces of parchment. The shelves were filled with all sorts of strange books in different languages. There, on one of them, rested two boxes that the Weasleys sought. However, the task soon proved to be much harder than they had initially thought. 

Once they stepped on the carpet that encompassed a large part of the floor, a surge of painful electricity ran through their bodies. Nothing painful, but they both yelped in surprise and jumped away.

"Blimey..."

"What do we do now?" 

"Accio, boxes of tricks," Fred casted a spell, and both boxes flew into his hands. The triumphant smirks soon vanished upon heavy realisation that they were, in fact, empty. "Well, that doesn't look well." 

George looked out into the corridor and checked if the professor was anywhere near. No such thing. 

"Any ideas where he might have put them?" 

"Maybe we should try again. Accio... Nose-bleed nougat!" 

The twins heard a thud coming from the lowest locker. Right beneath the shelves and separated from the twins by the dreaded carpet. There was no way for them to sidestep the thing without causing chaos in the room. And thus making the professor angrier than he otherwise would have been. 

"Maybe we should jump? We'll make it in two leaps."

"I don't want to get shocked twice. When did he even get this thing? It's amazing!" 

"That sure is a neat concept. Too bad we can't ask him. Just let's get to it quickly."

Nodding to each other, the twins jumped. Landing in the middle of the carpet, they both winced as the weak surge of electricity rushed through them. It kept going as they kept their feet on the wooly trap. George jumped further, getting a break in the air, before submerging in the world of steadily moving electrons once more. Fred, however, tripped as he landed, falling right on his back.

"Ow, ow, ow!" He kept wriggling, trying to get up and feeling more shocks, before his brother helped him to his feet.

"Al...ouch...Alohomora!" 

The lock on opened and the twins dug inside the small wooden container. There, alongside the tricks they had tried to get was a note.

'Got you'

And as their faces turned into those of horror, they heard a loud, childish laughter behind them. There, near the doors, stood Professor Fenton himself, guffawing and ready to roll on the floor with laughter. 

"Oh, that was a good one!" He smirked and wiped a tear. "Come here, you two." 

He snickered a little more as the twins slowly reached another end of the carpet and finally stepped on the solid floor. At least he didn't look mad, the twins reasoned. 

"Wait... you knew we would come?" Asked Fred. 

"I would certainly know. After all," as Fenton was behind them, he gave each of them a one-armed hug. "We are kindred spirits. That's what I would do." 

"You let us come here on purpose? Sir?" 

"Why yes. I had a good laugh," he released them. "Haven't had those in a while. Sorry about the carpet. You ain't hurt, are you?"

"No, it went away when we didn't stay on that thing."

"What is it?" They asked in unison as they looked at the thing. Danny put hands in his pockets. 

"Just a little magical toy I made in my days as a student. Got an idea from muggles. They sell those tricks that look like treats. But when you try to take it out of the wrapper, bam, it gives you a small shock."

"It's a really neat concept. Why didn't we think of it, George?" 

"I don't know, Fred," his brother shrugged, "A carpet is a bit hard to use, though." 

"Well, I used what I had at the time," Danny grumbled slightly. "It found its use, though, don't you agree?" 

"How do you move around with that thing in the middle of the room?" 

"It doesn't harm me," he explained simply, omitting the part of his not touching the ground at any given time. "Sadly, that's the only thing I have. I asked McGonagall to make it larger, to make the room cosier," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I suck at Transfiguration." 

The twins cackled. 

"Now," he quickly cut off their laughter. "I am not giving those things you had back."

"But sir... we are experimenting, too!"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Oh, are you now?"

"Yes! We can show you some. But we still need to polish them, see?"

"Hm..." Danny rubbed his chin. "I would look so hypocritical for not giving in to your noble intentions," he said dramatically. "And you won't stop trying to get it back." 

"We certainly will, Professor."

Danny smirked. "Are you saying that you would try to outsmart me?" 

"And we will do that," The twins smirked, too. 

"I have more experience than you," Danny assumed an imposing presence, "Once I made the walls of my uncle's bathroom invisible. With witnesses all around and him enjoying his bath. With a rubber duck. He became a mayor of town just to spite me with his decrees. And I actually won in the end. Are you sure that you want to start such war?" 

"Bring it!" The redheads gave a unanimous decision. 

"Then we will lay ground rules. I can't get into your room, so you should not enter mine."

"But how are we going to get our things back?" 

"I'll give them to you. If you manage to beat me." 

"Alright then!" 

"Second: we do not bring others into this. So no large mischiefs that can affect others." 

"Deal." 

"Third: your grades must not be on the level less than Acceptable. I have to watch your education, too. A single mark lower than that and I call this off. And no pranks during my class, too. It is a whole separate area." 

"That's good." 

"And the final condition: you have a semester. Should it end, and I do not get properly pranked once, my victory is assured."

"It's all good."

He gave them one whole semester for a single prank. How hard could it honestly be?

As they went to the class, having locked the door behind him, Danny was smirking all the way. If that's what it took to make them study properly, he would play along with their little game. The game that he had never lost.

"No, no, no. Stop!" 

Crabbe followed Harry's order, begrudgingly lowering his wand. 

The DADA classroom was specifically prepared for practical preparation, right after the lessons were over. Fenton had moved almost all the desks, apart from his own in the far end, to a single corner, leaving space for the students and their spell-casting. He had also brought the necessary books from the library, in case the children needed some material. Also, there were pillows to soften the fall and to sit on. The professor chose not to interfere in the process, too busy with checking the test from a couple of days ago. However, he did occasionally look up and observed the progress. From time to time he got up and checked up on how the students fared. He also made sure to prevent any hostilities between the rivalling houses. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were also getting caught in the middle sometimes, but Fenton tried to keep the studying civil. At the moment Harry could see the professor questioning Ron on what exactly Goyle was doing wrong, after having stopped them himself. 

Umbridge had voiced her utter displeasure about this, too. Namely, the rumours said that she went to complain to Dumbledore. The Headmaster only told her that the young man had his permission all along. It was also obvious that Umbridge had submitted a report to Fudge. But, since she was nowhere to be seen at the time, Harry guessed that the professor had solved that problem, too. Perhaps it also had something to do with her having to observe other teachers, too. And since some proper classes were still going, the time was perfect for practice. Without that pink toad interfering in the process, for which Harry was thankful. And from the jolly expression the professor had, he guessed that Fenton was happy about the arrangement as well. 

"Crabbe, don't flail the wand so hard," Harry told the teen who was much larger than him. "Your movement needs to be smoother."

"I won't have time," the boy argued.

"You can do both," Fenton suddenly emerged near them. "Sorry for interrupting you two, but I have a question. Mr. Crabbe, do you know where your friend is? I haven't seen Malfoy today." 

"He said he won't be coming," the Slytherin answered. 

"I'm sure he has a good reason," said the professor with surprisingly menacing undertone. "Because Longbottom is right there," he pointed at lonely Neville, who was sitting on a couple of pillows, hastily reading a book. 

Crabbe seemed hesitant to answer, so Harry took the lead. "Draco mentioned that he doesn't want to help Neville, sir." 

No matter how hard the Gryffindor teen had tried, Malfoy was as stubborn as a mule. 

"Does he now?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "Well then, could you tell your housemate to come visit my office after dinner?" 

"I will, sir," Crabbe mumbled an answer. 

Harry couldn't help a smirk on his face. He couldn't remember Malfoy getting reprimanded for a long time. Him being turned into a weasel last year notwithstanding. Surprisingly, however, Fenton gave him a non-amused look as well, but did not say anything. The professor didn't like the fact that Harry and the gang had been proven right this time. 

"Well, carry on," he pulled a small smile on his face, "I think we will be calling it a day in an hour. You are free to leave when you want, of course. It's not a lesson."

Having said that, the professor left to talk with Neville. The shy boy looked up once the man approached.

"P-Professor! I'm..."

"Have you been reading the material?" Asked Danny with a smile.

"Yes," the boy nodded quickly. 

"Come now, let's see what you have learned so far," the professor patted him on the shoulder and helped him up. "Wand at the ready, Longbottom."

The students gave them plenty of attention, curious to see Fenton directly help the poor Gryffindor. However, they had their own homework. Harry diverted his eyes from the professor only to see that Crabbe was nowhere to be found. The guy had actually tailed. His fists balling, Harry took a deep sigh. 

"Bloody hell, they are unbelievable," Ron muttered as he approached him. 

"What, Goyle decided to get away, too?" 

"Yeah. Guess they decided to call it a day already, the gits. How are we supposed to teach them anything, Harry? They don't need it, and they are used to being the worst in their classes."

"I don't know," Harry admitted, seeing Hermione approach them. "Hey, Hermione, how is it going?" 

"Parkinson left," she sighed, looking almost relieved. "One word that she is close to learning it and she just leaves. Maybe we will be done by next time."

The girl then looked at their professor, who held Neville's wand arm and slowly moved it to show the wand motions. 

"I feel sorry for him," declared Hermione. "His first home assignment and it is already crumbling." 

"Come on, Hermione. We all knew this decision was stupid," Ron argued. "And we got the worst of them all." 

"We got them because we knew the material better than most," she explained. "He would have to do everything himself like he does with Neville." 

"Or he just dumps even more gits on us," grumbled Ron. "Maybe there is a lesson for him, too. The snakes are the worst."

"We just got the worst of them all. Look, Zabini is actually helping Lee Jordan out."

"He still doesn't look happy with that." 

"I never said that Zabini is a nice person. Quite the opposite," Hermione muttered. "Still, Fenton went through all this so we could grasp the concepts better. Least we can do is bear with it and try something. At least our conscience will be clear."

Her friends couldn't argue with that logic. Harry just hoped that Malfoy would get a good, fruitful thrashing.

Chapter Text

"You wanted to see me?"

Danny looked up from his office desk. Before him stood Draco Malfoy himself, looking angry and displeased to come visit the professor. The room was... surprisingly bland. Fenton obviously preferred to keep his things in the bedroom. Aside from the books needed for teaching and pieces of parchment there wasn't much to see. Draco noticed that the professor was not his usual upbeat self, but that his look was now serious, peering right into the not-so-diligent student. But, at the same time, he wasn't near the levels of intimidation McGonagall or Snape had. Sighing, Fenton spoke up, gesturing at a chair in front of him.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Sit down." 

As Danny was finishing scribbling something on the parchment, Draco landed on the chair. Fenton put the list away and turned to his visitor. 

"I have been told that you are not taking your responsibility diligently." 

"Skip the pleasantries," Draco huffed and crossed his hands. "I need to go back to the dorm."

Fenton sighed, "Keep talking like that, and I may just go against your wish," he muttered, skipping the pleasantries as he was told. "I want to talk about Longbottom."

"Obviously. And I don't wish to involve myself with that fool. Whether I do it or not, he still can't hope to reach an acceptable level." 

"He almost did it just a couple of hours ago, Malfoy," Danny interrupted dryly. "Granted, his aim could be better. But you are obviously mistaken." 

"Well, I am not the teacher here."

"I haven't had this job for long now, have I?"

"Yes, why do you have it?" 

"Now that was uncalled for," said Danny dramatically. "I know plenty about Dark Arts, Draco. That's all that I need for the job — I never once was beaten in a fight. But right now we are talking about you. And your refusal to do your homework." 

"This is a chore that you dumped on us. Not a homework."

"One learns best when they are teaching. It is to benefit you all in the end. I've seen that you will be taking O.W.L. on my subject. So I am naturally concerned." 

"I will be fine without Longbottom dragging me down."

"I have been warned that you two are far from being best friends," Danny admitted. "Why so?" 

"Being a councillor is Professor Snape's job."

"I'll have you know that my sister taught me a lot of smart words to fit this role. Besides, he has obviously performed a poor job so far." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asked Draco, sounding insulted. 

"That you are being awfully inconsiderate and selfish. But you are not here to hear an hour long lecture. In fact, I would rather use another approach. Are you sure that you are not going to help Neville? I have already done most of the job."

"No, I am not going to waste my time when I can do something more useful even for this subject." 

Danny clicked his tongue. "We will have time to learn the reasoning," he said, taking note of the sudden concern in the boy's expression. "I can't have you do nothing while others work their sweat, now can I? And I have something for you to do instead."

"Am I going to write lines? I'll let you know, my father won't stand for this." 

"And I'll let you know, Mr. Malfoy, that you can't scare a nobody. I don't have any life to ruin. AND avoiding homework is something that generally lands you in bad kids' corner. You knew it perfectly well and I gave you the second chance. Which you chose to dump. You are going to write an essay for me."

"On what topic?" 

"I ask for a two feet-long essay on why exactly you refused your job. The language used is to your discretion." 

"T-two feet?!" Stuttered Malfoy, so unbecomingly surprised. "This is outrageous!"

"Are you saying that you can't do that?" Fenton smirked, playing the violin named pride.

"I can, but is that the task a teacher is supposed to give? I would expect an essay on why it was wrong or something akin to that." 

"Is what you are doing wrong?"

"No, it is not." 

"Then the problem is nonexistent," responded Fenton with satisfaction in his voice. "We both know that such kind of an essay would have been disingenuous. This one, however, I'm expecting to be most interesting. You have two weeks from now, Draco, present it to me by then. If you fail, then you will have to miss out on Quidditch. And we both won't like that. There is no way of escaping the punishment." 

"Aren't other teachers going to question your plans?"

"Oh, they absolutely will. Umbridge will be fuming once more and I, frankly, do not care."

"She is the High Inquisitor. She can fire you. I won't stand by either, because my father will hear about this." 

"I heard you the first time," Danny sighed. "I'm here for one year. By its end or during the summer something might just happen so that I won't be able to continue. Apart from that I am a jobless and miserable bum."

"Are you trying to make me pity you?" 

"Of course not. You are hardly the person to give me any. I'm saying that it won't be worth the sweat, especially since you have plenty of stuff to worry about as it is. There is a goal behind this essay, Malfoy." 

"You are beating around the bush, professor." 

"I know. If I tell you the goals and methods behind this then it simply won't work. On another note, Quidditch tryouts are soon, huh?" 

"This Thursday," Draco said, disgruntled. "We need to replace some players that have graduated last year. They both were our beaters."

"I heard of it. You are a seeker for your house, right?"

"You are awfully nosy, professor." 

"I prefer the word 'prepared'. You haven't answered. If I were to give you detentions, Quidditch would greatly affect the date. Leaving a team without a seeker would just be unfair. So. Are you?"

"Yes, I am a seeker." 

"Are you good?"

"Of course I am! I've got the skill, our team's got the best brooms there are and our team is not some bunch of useless knuckleheads."

"I'm afraid to imagine who you imply. Although I have an idea. So, you fancy anyone for those spots? I know you are not a captain, but..." 

"We could use brawn. Crabbe and Goyle are not bright in the slightest, but they can hit a bludger hard enough. I already told our captain, and I am certain he will accept. My father gives us the equipment, of course he will." 

Everyone had a button that made them more pleasant to talk with. In case of Malfoy, not so much. Still, Danny maintained his friendly expression.

"Well, I may just come to look. Is it worth the time?"

"The tryouts? No. Mostly it will just be a bunch of hopefuls failing miserably. The novelty wears off fast." 

"I see. Well, off you go now, don't forget the essay, Mr. Malfoy," Danny gave a pleasant smile and waved, "Anything else?"

"No, I think I will go," Draco said and rose to his feet. 

And he didn't say goodbye as he left. Despite the bratty behaviour, Danny paid it no heed. Sure, the boy was just as those Gryffindor kids said, reminding the young man of his own blonde menace back in school. But he was not a person to project his past grievances and treat Malfoy the way he would use on Baxter. He wanted to, but that would mean being like the least likeable teachers he had met. Draco got his deserved punishment and that was enough. That was a very wise excuse for giving an essay. That way Danny had much less work. Cackling gleefully, Danny got up. It didn't mean that he did not have a plan, but it was probably not as detailed as he would present it to others. 

It WAS largely about trying to appear competent while he didn't have any teaching experience. The teaching plan was largely a composition of what he remembered from Ilvermony, how the teachers taught there, and his own personal home reading and past knowledge. Danny also spent the first periods of school not just dawdling, but invisibly observing his colleagues. Lessons by Flitwick and Snape, the total opposites, allowed him to draw a middle path he was willing to take. Adapting was what he did best. 

When Saturday rolled around, Danny was a bit at a loss about what to do. It wasn't time yet to chaperone trips to Hogsmeade, and thus he was a bit at a loss about what to do on that day. His work was mostly done, the rest could be done any time of the weekend. After another failure on Friday Danny was also discouraged from doing the experiments for a while. Without getting up from bed, he gave a glance at his desk, at a small beaker that was still smoking just a bit. His head, topped by messy raven hair, rested on a soft pillow, and he was extremely tempted to just go back to sleep while the sun was still barely above the horizon. Danny stared at the wooden ceiling, and finally decided to get up. He couldn't sleep, even if he wanted. He had got used to waking up multiple times in the middle of the night and before the morning birds began their songs. 

So, his first week as a teacher had gone by, Danny thought as he put on a black sweater. He had expected this job to be harder, if he was honest. Sure, it had its downsides, with all the homework he had to check, but he had his ways around it, too. The young professor yawned and was about to exit his room. But then, he stopped himself, seeing it just slightly open. While he always locked the doors for the night. 

"Strike first while the enemy is unprepared," he muttered, swinging his palm. 

The door opened, and a bucket full of water fell on the ground. Shaking his head, Danny exited, his ice-blue eyes soon falling on the twins hiding around the corner. 

"That's the oldest trick in the book, you two!" Shouted Danny almost scoldingly. "Isn't this a violation?"

"We haven't entered your room!" 

"We just opened the door!" 

Danny smirked, before suddenly the water sunk into the ground. As far as he was aware, there was only an empty classroom beneath.

"Just go have breakfast," he called and turned to leave, closing the door of his room. "Although now is probably not the time... I guess I will go for a walk." 

And as he was saying it, his voice was reducing to the level of a whisper. The twins looked at each other and shrugged. Their teacher was odd, they had noticed him thinking aloud before. Danny gave them a wave and went off.

"He still isn't making any noise. Doesn't that creep you out?" 

"It sure does. But that ain't gonna stop us. Take out your list, brother, we have two long days ahead of us." 

The young professor caught their whispers just fine. Woe to those who didn't know about his heightened senses. Danny fixed the high collar of his sweater and continued his travel through the halls of Hogwarts. He reasoned that a stroll near the woods and the lake was a nice start of the day, however grim the weather may be. Going through one of the corridors, however, he noticed a gust of air escaping his mouth. It was getting quite irritating with how many ghosts there were here. It's not like he could turn that radar off at a whim. It was just his heart replacement of a core being agitated. Soon after, Sir Nicholas emerged from one of the walls, his eyes lighting up as he saw the professor.

"Ah, Daniel! Just the person I need." 

"Good morning to you too, Nicholas," deadpanned Danny. 

"Oh, where are my manners. I apologise, good morning to you too," he gave a light bow, "We have a problem, you see. Peeves wants to prank the next person to walk down the Paracelsus corridor. To actually drop a statue on someone..." he muttered angrily. "I was thinking about getting Baron, but you can do it just fine, too. If you will, of course. Oh, good morning, Harry!"

Danny blinked and turned where Nick was looking. Truthfully enough, the fate had decided to bring them together this morning. He also noticed Harry stuff something resembling a letter in his pocket at the last moment.

"Good morning, Nick," he called back, once he regained the composure. "You too, professor." 

Danny responded with a wave. "Alright, Nicholas. I'll talk to Peeves. He really ought to know some bounds." 

Harry stared at him with a slight bewilderment. "You can stop him?"

Not even Snape was able to put a stop to Peeve's pranking spree. Yes, Fenton taught DADA, but what could he do what Snape, a former Death Eater, could not? 

"I have an approach to poltergeists, yes. Spectres are my bread and butter. But I expect that I won't need to do anything special. So, what are you doing here this early in the morning, Harry?"

"Oh, I was just..."

"Ooh, is that a love letter?" Danny grinned and leaned closer. 

"No, sir. I mean... yes."

He didn't sound convincing at all. Luckily, the professor didn't press. Their conversation came to a halt when from the corner emerged a very angry-looking Filch, with his hellish cat right at his heels, Mrs. Norris's crimson eyes peering into Danny's ice blue ones. 

"Stop right there, you brat!" He barked. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Danny said and put his hands in his pockets. 

"I wasn't talking to you. Potter! I've had a tip-off that you were about to place a massive order of Dungbombs."

"What? Who told you that?" 

"I have my sources," the caretaker hissed, "Now hand that letter over." 

Danny glanced and noticed a look of confusion on the teen's face. So genuine, in fact, that something obviously was wrong. 

"I'm sure there was a misunderstanding," the professor said. "Harry was just bringing the list of people to me." 

"A list?" Filch narrowed his eyes. 

"Yes, I was actually curious if there is anyone willing to participate in the duelling club. So I had Harry ask around his house first and make a list of those willing. Do you have it, Harry?" 

"Oh, I..."

So lost in the moment, without thinking, Harry took the envelope from his pocket, which Danny quickly took. Only then did the boy realise his grave mistake, and barely kept the normal expression. Do not panic, he told himself several times. And, luckily, neither Danny, nor Filch actually paid enough attention to the address written on the yellowish envelope. 

"Ah, very good. I'll take a look at it when I can, Harry. Any more questions, Argus?"

Filch glared daggers at the young professor. "If I catch a sniff of a Dungbomb, I'll complain to Dumbledore about your involvement, too."

"There are many sources of Dungbombs," Danny called after the departing caretaker. "Make sure you learn where they came from before making assumptions."

Once Filch and his feline companion left, the professor turned to the teen, seeming a bit more serious.

"Are you actually sending an order for Dungbombs?" Asked Danny, waving the letter. 

"No sir. I don't know who told Filch about this stuff." 

"I'll take your word for that, Harry. Don't make me regret it. I love pranks, but I will not allow such violations."

He gave the letter back to the boy, who clearly appreciated the professor's gesture.

"So, about that Peeves issue, Nicholas..."

"Ah, yes. Follow me, Daniel." 

"Professor," Harry spoke up. "Can I come too?" 

Danny raised an eyebrow at the suddenly displayed curiosity, "It's gonna be a simple talk, Harry. You missed the best part already."

"Still, I would really like to see it." 

The professor shrugged and waved for the teen to follow. Nick seemed perplexed at the prospect, but if Danny had no problems with letting Potter come along, neither did he. They passed several corridors, and then came near a statue of the medieval wizard. Keeping a considerable distance at first, Danny was the one to step forward, knowing about the trap that was set. However, as he was near a statue, it did not bulge, despite what Peeves's plan entailed. That led to a very logical conclusion, and Danny didn't hesitate to voice it. 

"Peeves, come out, please," he said, sounding awfully menacing with how seemingly nonchalant he was. 

Immediately a small, floating man in a jester outfit emerged through the iron suit, and Harry never saw the annoying poltergeist look so humble.

"Heey, boyo," he greeted carefully. "What brings you here?" 

"What do you think? Your newest ingenuity." 

"Why, I am happy that... wait, are you mocking me?" 

"I do," Danny smirked. "Cut it out, Peeves, this one can actually hurt somebody."

"Come now, Phantom, they can heal broken bones overnight here."

Harry blinked. Why did Peeves call Danny that of all things? Was it some sort of a nickname? If so, then it probably had some ground to stand on. 

"That's true. But people generally don't like being knocked out by heavy pieces of metal. AND they can die before they are taken to a ward. Have some restraint, Peeves, or it is thermos time for you." 

Harry didn't know what in the world Danny implied, but it was enough to make Peeves backtrack in the air.

"No! Anything but that!" He waved his arms frantically. "I got it the first time." 

"Wonderful. Go now, I'm not stopping you from harmless entertainment." 

Peeves beamed again, "I see now. Oh well, guess we will just float around in search of where to put the glue and glitter."

"If you put it in Umbridge's office I won't say anything," Danny smirked again, before Peeves flew off, snickering in anticipation.

The professor turned back to his companions. "Well, this part is out of the way."

"You could have told him to stop completely," Nick said, sounding disappointed. Danny in response raised his finger.

"A ghost's obsession must not be denied. Best we can do is to direct it." 

Harry suddenly realised that that was the approach Danny used with his students, too. His experience probably rubbed off on his methods with living beings. 

"You are saying the truth, Daniel, and I'm glad to see that you are being as considerate as some say, but... I just hope that you can 'direct' it properly."

"There is always a harsher option. I'm going to have breakfast, you are free to join, Harry." 

"Sorry, professor. I have a letter to send, remember?"

"Ah, okay then. See ya!" 

Danny casually left, radiating the same carefree air around him, as if he didn't just tame the most uncontrollable being in Hogwarts. To be frank, Harry was in slight awe at how the man took care of everything so seemingly easy and cooly. And at the same time he was so approachable. It made him even slightly jealous. 

"Nick, can I ask you a question?"

"Oh, certainly, go ahead, Harry."

"What was that name Peeves used?" 

"What name?"

"Peeves called the professor "Phantom"." 

"Oh, ehm... I promised to keep his secrets safe, Harry. It's just a nickname he has among our kind. Because he is very understanding of our problems. As if... he is one of us, dreadful as it sounds. And because he is so quiet and sneaky, the name also has its own irony."

"He really is famous with you guys, huh?"

"That he is. Even if opinions differ quite a lot. I'm afraid you will have to ask him about it." 

To say that Danny was unsure of where to apply his free time was to say nothing. His warfare with the Weasleys was... one-sided for the time being, and amounted to basically rebutting their attempts. Fred and George were growing awfully frustrated that none of their tricks managed to affect the professor in any way. They mixed some nose-bleed nougat into his tea while the man was absent from the staff table. Thankfully it melted just fine. The result? When they came back to their own table and took a couple of sips from their goblets, their mouths suddenly caught on fire. Literally, with no actual harm, but still obliging to go to the Hospital wing. On their exit from the Great Hall they saw the professor giving them a wave. With that same creepy and devious grin on his face. The twins realised that Fenton had his own tricks, ones that were an unknown territory for them. 

Danny's strategy was simple. It wasn't his goal to win. His goal was not to lose. Should he go on the offensive, it might just eventually force them to surrender. And the stimulus Danny had crafted would simply evaporate. Occasional response, the mockery, however, only intensified their desire to succeed. He was having fun as it was. With his powers it was incredibly simple to do anything he wanted without raising any suspicions. And to always be one step ahead. That's why the frootloop played on an even field with him. Vlad had both the cunning and the powers to assist him. Thankfully the cheesehead had stopped bothering him years ago. Danny actually wondered how he was doing now. Well, as long as he didn't interfere with his life, Danny cared relatively little.

And their contest did not go unnoticed, both among the students and among the staff. First, he was confronted by the biggest killjoy in the whole of Britain.

"Fenton." 

Danny turned away from the wonderful panoramic view of the lake to face the Potions Professor. 

"Yes, Severus? Do you need something?"

"I am here to address your questionable connivance." 

The young man sighed and leaned his back over the railing. "Is it about the Weasleys? Don't worry so much, for the first time they are under control, I would say." 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"Unlike before, we know exactly who is going to be at the receiving end of their pranks. Instead of trying to extinguish their excitable flame we shall direct it," said Danny with all the dramatics he could muster. "With minimal casualties. Did Dumbledore send you or are you just that happy to pick the initiative?" 

"Both," Snape sneered. "You must stop indulging their behaviour Fenton. For your own good." 

"Oh, is it about Umbridge again? I'm doing all I can to teach the children, it's not her business what they do with their free time."

"On the contrary, Mr. Fenton."

That high and girlish voice could belong to only one person in that world. Umbridge joined them, wearing the same pink cardigan as always, as well as a toad-like grin on her face. 

"Education is directly affected by children's spare time. And if they can't behave outside of the class, what are we to expect within it?"

"Obedience and respect, Dolores," Danny rebutted, "Something which they lack towards you."

"Fenton," Snape began.

"What? Certainly our High Inquisitor has her ears everywhere to know that." 

Umbridge gave him a smile, but her eyes held nothing but contempt. "I am well informed about the mood of the kids, and your claim is detached from reality, Mr. Fenton. I won't intrude on your day any longer."

And with that she strolled away, the distance between her chubby legs minimal as she did.

"What an annoying toad," Danny muttered, before looking at Snape. The Potions master's lips became thin as he dug within his black robe. "What are you doing?"

"Take a read," responded Snape and handed him a folded newspaper.

"Jesus, what else do you keep there?" Danny muttered as he began reading the "Prophet".

"In a surprise move the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns, voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.

'"However, there has been a last moment appointment," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, but instead he chose the candidacy of one twenty-year old Daniel Fenton. An enigma with no record in the Ministry has raised many concerns over the course. Thus, Miss Umbridge has been busy, providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."

It is this last function that the Ministry formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three back in summer, which created the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor. 

'"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The choice of candidacies for Defence against Dark Arts has been controversial so far. Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody. We have asked Miss Umbridge on what the current teacher is like'

'"It is both with great concern and relief that I have observed the young man's teaching methods. It is undeniable that for his age Mr. Fenton is a wizard with enough knowledge on the subject of his expertise...'

"Are you sure Umbridge said this?" Danny asked incredulously.

'However, his lacklustre discipline is also very worrying. His teaching methods involve letting children practice the spells outside of the classes and directly putting them up against each other with no regards for safety. Mr. Fenton also chose to ignore the professional recommendations in favour of his own program. His heavy accent on fighting spells, too, raises concerns already prevalent in the Ministry.'

"Ah, no. There she goes."

'Not to mention his lack of manners and restraint, unbecoming of a teacher and more fitting for adolescents he is meant to teach. This man, whose past is covered in shadows, whose teaching is very controversial, shall be closely observed in order to protect the children from incompetent teacher"'

'Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.

'Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.'

'"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore." '(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)'

"This doesn't look so bad," Danny pointed out, "I mean, these descriptions are so general, I'm not even sure she herself wrote that report."

"Don't underestimate the public's ability to jump to conclusions."

"Oh, believe me, I do know," mumbled Danny. "Guess I drew a huge target on my back by coming here, eh?"

"Don't tell me you are having doubts now."

"Nope. I am just curious about what will happen. I suspect that Umbridge has already asked MACUSA about me. And hasn't yet got the response, because then the article would have been much better. You saw her. Don't tell me she just dropped by to say a couple of remarks she actually considers witty."

"She is obviously still gathering information," Finished Severus. "This brings us to the first matter." 

"I'm not backing down and I never did. Because believe me," Danny looked at where Umbridge went, "THAT will be a drop in an ocean." 

"I'm not satisfied with such answer, Fenton. This has to stop."

"I'm not here to satisfy anyone," Danny put his hands in his pockets. "As I said, she will have greater things to worry about. Don't act like she will turn all chummy if I stop. If I do, she will come up with some slander. Might as well have fun."

"You are as immature as I expected," commented Severus. "We are talking about the reputation of everyone in this school."

"Please, Dumbledore didn't seem to close the school when there was a Basilisk. I think that thing was more dangerous than a teacher doing harmless pranks."

"Those were different times. Back then the Ministry didn't watch each of our steps and it did not try to sabotage everything."

"My answer stands. I understand your worries, but some things are simply unavoidable. As I said, she will create a scandal soon enough."

"I'll make sure to pass the message," Severus responded unenthusiastically. 

"I can come to Dumbledore himself if he wants, "Danny sighed and looked out at the forest. "People around are so on edge about everything."

"And you are too careless, Fenton. You are an emigré and you have no proper understanding of how heavy the situation is." 

"I just don't have an iron rod in my backside. Don't think that I'm careless because I'm taking it all in stride."

"So far you have given no reason to believe otherwise." 

Snape glared at the young man and chose to leave him alone. Danny ran a hand through his hair as his look became heavy. 

"'Reason', he says," the young professor muttered to himself angrily, "I don't care about your reasons. Just let me do my job." 

The next lesson of DADA was going splendidly. Students were showing an admirable effort in casting the disarmament charm. Harry was relieved to see that Crabbe could at the very least make the opponent drop their wand to their feet. That was an acceptable level. Even if barely. Professor Fenton instructed both of Malfoy's henchmen to visit extra practice classes to hone the charm, but this time, thankfully, Harry and Ron didn't need to be present for that one. Furthermore, he rewarded the two with points for the level of dedication and presented results. Hermione and Parkinson both showed excellent techniques. Even Neville, abysmal as the help from Malfoy was, managed to knock a wand a meter away, and was rewarded accordingly. Harry never saw the clumsy Griffindor smile so much in a DADA lesson ever since Lupin came about. After everyone showed their level of preparation, the students were seated at their desks as he began speaking, with a grin on his face. 

"I must say, the level of potential you generally show is making me very optimistic about your future exams. Keep up the excellent work. I believe now we can move to another topic. This time we will be revising the knockback jinx. I believe you won't have any trouble with it, it's a first-year charm. Despite what I said about it before, it is still a part of the program, even if much less important. And it will be present in your OWLs. By the next lesson I will make sure to fetch some creature to spice things up, you have my word. Now, open your books on the page..." he suddenly became sour in the face as the sound of opening door was heard around the room. "Dolores, what are you doing here?"

His feelings were shared by an absolute majority of the people present. Nobody wanted Umbridge to be there and interrupt the lesson again. Dolores herself, however, seemed oblivious to the fact. Her crooked smile was off-putting, malicious even. She looked like a very fat predator, happy that her lunch stopped by, for it would be a hustle to go hunting. Danny did not like playing this role. 

"I have received some very interesting information, Mr. Fenton," Dolores said with feigned concern. 

Danny did not like where this was going. So. It was finally the time, huh. The professor sat at the table, his face now surprisingly amused. 

"I confess. It was my glue," he said, his sincerity going out of the window. 

"Pardon?" Dolores blinked. 

"Oh, what are you here for then?" 

"I sent an owl to MACUSA at the start of the past week. The other day I received a response, containing your dossier. And to be frank, I am appalled by your biography." 

Danny's expression didn't change. "That makes two of us. I'm actually curious myself about what MACUSA writes about me after all these years. Are you sure we should be discussing it here, though? I have a lesson to give." 

The students' interest was piqued more than during the lectures. What was there in the man's biography that made Umbridge 'appalled'? The old lady opened the file she had been carrying. 

"I believe that the students have the right to know who is being in the same room as them. Daniel James Fenton, age twenty. Born in the town of Amity Park in a family of muggles," she said with a very familiar venomous undertone, "Tell me, is it true that you are a direct descendant of John Nightingale?"

"Who?" Harry whispered, and his sentiment was shared by many.

"He was one of the cruelest witch hunters of Salem. And one of the reasons the Statute of Secrecy was even passed," Danny was suddenly the one to begin explanation, "It should be covered in your History of Magic course."

The people oblivious to the fact, stared wide-eyed at the professor, who remained composed as ever. 

"Yes, it is true," he added. "He is my paternal ancestor. But I fail to see how..."

"You were still accepted in Ilvermorny. You had average grades, minimal amount of social interaction. The most audacious thing, however, is that at the age of fourteen you went through expulsion. Mr. Fenton, you never passed a single exam, and yet you are teaching here, at our prestigious institution!" 

Danny could hear the murmurs and whispers. Sighing, her rubbed his temples. "The requirements for teaching are not stated anywhere. It is up to the Headmaster's discretion."

"A discretion he constantly abuses," Dolores spat. "How can you teach however you like when you haven't even finished your school?" 

"I can sit a NEWT exam whenever you want," Danny responded calmly, standing up. "If that's what you need."

"I doubt you would be able to pass it, Fenton. Considering that your wand has been broken for years." 

Now when they thought about it, the students never saw him use a wand once. They never even saw one at his side.

"I don't need a wand to win a duel."

"I beg to differ. But it wasn't broken simply because you were banished, now, was it?" She smiled, "You were expelled on the account of delving into Dark Magic."

Several gasps were heard across the room. 

"The court ruled me innocent in the end. Everyone just didn't want to admit their mistakes, so nothing was restored. Not my studies, not my wand." 

"You didn't stop there, however. The following year you were accused of being involved in deaths of three muggles." 

Suddenly, something changed in the air. It became chilly, cold for just a moment, so it wasn't as noticeable, but Harry could swear he saw someone's breath. 

"If you dare say that I murdered my own family, I will show you how professional I am in my field," Danny said through his teeth. 

Even Umbridge subconsciously took a step back. "I never said anything of the sort."

"But you implied it, didn't you? I am free, as you can see. And I do not hide. Because I have nothing to be ashamed of and to be punished for. Is that all, Dolores? I have a lesson to run."

It was evident what was really going on. Umbridge wanted to cause a scene. She wanted everyone to see Danny either confirm or deny everything she said. The very fact of such controversy existing was enough for her. A scandal was brewing. Children could talk to their parents and make the impact much bigger than what could be achieved by writing in a Prophet. She needed eyewitnesses, the sly toad. Danny could see how someone with a face of heavily-drinking grandma could reach so high within a Ministry. His calm attitude was only due to how he had prepared himself for a moment this was going to be brought up. 

"I will talk with Dumbledore. And with the Minister. You cannot be allowed to do as you please when you are just an unqualified miscreant." 

"You really want to check my abilities yourself, don't you?"

"Is this a threat, Fenton?!" 

"It's an offer," Danny put his head on his palm, grinning like Cheshire cat. "You were proposed to take my position, surely you can best the person who was booted out of school. I don't even have a wand, Dolores. Or are you afraid that I will curse you with my dark magic?" 

"I have no interest in giving satisfaction to some brute."

"I am no more satisfied than you are. Again, I am ready to prove my capabilities whenever and however you would like. And I am not addressing that nonsensical crap with Dark Arts. There is a court ruling for that." 

Umbridge glared at the young professor. "Someone like you must not be allowed to teach!" 

"Are you going to repeat the same thing over and over? My hearing is excellent, Dolores. And no, Mr. Zabini, the lesson will continue as planned." 

The dark-skinned boy froze. His words to his friend had only been a whisper, and he was in the other end of the room atop of that. So he had heard and would hear every small exchange done before and which would happen in the future. 

"This isn't over, Fenton. This was only a minor part of my future report which will inevitably lead to your sacking." 

"Oh, brother. Do I get my termination payment?"

"A what?" 

Danny deflated. "Your social services have some serious issues." 

"Your jokes will lead you nowhere, Fenton."

"You still here?" 

He said the last sentence without any attempts at humour, as if obliging her demands. Umbridge didn't wait for long and made her exit. Slowly. Danny kept glaring at the door for a couple of seconds, before turning to the class, pulling the best smile he could offer now, a bit tired, small, obviously faked one. 

"Anyways, the knockback jinx... If this question is about me, Miss Patil, I reserve the right to stay silent."

"If it wasn't Dark Magic that got you expelled..."

"It was a project of mine. My knowledge is very specific, and I studied the supernatural extensively. The spectral entities, to be exact. To some it was off-putting and they decided to jump to conclusions. Yes, I was a weird kid. Let's just get back to the topic..." 

That evening, Danny was summoned to the Headmaster's office. It was to be expected, honestly. The young man was ready for it, and if he was to be fired, let it be. Umbridge hadn't hesitated to rat him out, it seemed. Opening the doors, Danny went inside, being greeted by the Heads of Houses, Dumbledore and the toad herself. 

"I wish I didn't come here like a miscreant student," Commented Danny. 

His eyes fell on McGonagall, whose lips were extremely thin. Coincidentally, it was her who spoke first. 

"You are something worse, you are a deceitful fraud, Mr. Fenton," she snapped. 

"Excuse me?" Danny's eyebrows shot up. 

"It appears you neglected to share the information we discussed today even with your colleagues," said Dolores judgementally. Danny really wanted to punch her, knowing the implications of said decision both for her health and his reputation. 

"It's not like they asked. I even brought my documents that day," Said the young professor. 

"This is not a valid excuse at all," Sprout squeaked. "After the talk we had about how important your post is, you never once chose to mention the fact that you have never even finished your school." 

"I am capable. I don't hear the students complaining." 

"If I may," Flitwick put in slowly. "While I am very disappointed myself in this fact, my students have only positives to say about him. Don't yours say this, too?" 

McGonagall nodded begrudgingly. "That is true, admittedly."

Danny couldn't help a smile from emerging. Those kids. 

"The opinion of our students is very important," Dumbledore spoke up. 

"Albus," Umbridge said, "Students need discipline. This does not speak of his qualifications. He was expelled! And even before that his grades were acceptable at best. Including the Defence."

"That is quite a speed bump," the old man admitted. "What are you suggesting, Dolores?"

"Why, fire him! He can't remain here any longer than needed." 

"You need a replacement, first," Danny pointed out. "You are not telling me that you should be the one?" 

"Of course I can take this mantle if needed." 

"You are already an Inquisitor. This will harm both sides of your activity," the young still-professor shrugged. 

"He does have a point," Dumbledore supported him and rubbed the white beard. "Why don't we find an alternative solution?" 

"I fail to see what that is," Dolores huffed.

Danny, however, stepped forward. "I told our friend with abysmal fashion sense that I am ready to take the exam or confirm my abilities in any other way." 

"This is not how the educational system works!"

"I'm not asking for a diploma. This is just to calm your nerves, is all. I doubt it will be legit outside of this school." 

"It, most certainly, will not. This whole idea is ludicrous, and I demand, as a High Inquisitor, that you fire this man, Dumbledore!" 

Danny glared at Dolores, before sighing. "I really hoped we wouldn't have to resort to this." 

"What in the world do you even mean?" 

"Dolores Jane Umbridge, born of a muggle mother and a wizard father," Danny looked at the ceiling, grinning widely at her surprised expression. "The latter being the Ministry's own janitor. Grades just as average as mine. You see, Dolores, I have a couple of familiar people in the Ministry myself. This summer you have made contact with the head of Azkaban. A meeting, which, strangely enough, did not go into records."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with curiosity. 

"If you think that this empty accusation will have any effect..." 

"He told me what you talked about, too. And if needed, he will tell others." 

Umbridge froze. Gogol's silent scene fell down upon the entire audience, as the veiled threat known only to the professor and the Inquisitor made the air heavier.

"What are you talking about?" McGonagall asked.

"Dolores, what about that exam again?" Danny kept smiling, deriving the most delicious of vengeances from the toad's pale face. 

"I... will contact the experts," she hissed, as if each word she said hurt her. 

Danny approached Dolores and patted her shoulder. "Splendid! I'm glad that we have you on board." 

Dumbledore's face may not have been showing it, but he now saw the newest teacher from an entirely new, sinister point of view. That man, with barely any effort now blackmailed the Inquisitor herself. Underneath those smiles and pleasantries was a dangerous, plotting individual, there were no doubts about that. He didn't know how Danny managed to contact the warden of Azkaban, but the fact itself was off-putting. How many people did this homeless man have in his pocket? Dumbledore thought heavily about who Daniel Fenton actually was, too unaware to make a true conclusion. In truth, the situation was much less sinister. A ghostly possession was a universal tool, one of such powers allowed to read the possessed person's memory. So, by calling a favour with some of the ghosts strong enough to overshadow people, Danny got a couple of ministry officials possessed. Following a chain of clues led the young man to the warden. And then the last ghost sent a letter back with the most interesting information. The same information Danny was using now against Umbridge. 

However, he was bluffing about calling the warden here. Danny's meddling would immediately be revealed, and he would be knee-deep in shit. 

"Albus," Danny broke the old man out of his thoughts, "Do you think this idea will work?" 

He knew that the Headmaster's word was now final. Albus nodded and smiled. "This is a wonderful proposition. However, Daniel, what you did to us was deplorable, you should know that." 

"I brought the papers," Danny muttered, "Fine. I get it. Sorry, guys. If I fail the exam, I will pack my things." 

"That is noble of you. That will be all, I think." 

Danny nodded and happily exited the room. For now his main threat was eliminated and was slowly following him out, her hands shaking in anger. When the doors closed, the Heads turned to Dumbledore, as they were now free to discuss the issue between each other. Without extra interruptions.

"This boy is insane," Sprout muttered. "Did he actually just threaten her?"

"She obviously did something nasty to fear him so much," Flitwick added. 

"You are still taking his side, Filius." 

"I know he is a good boy. But that he is also a sly one, this I cannot deny."

"We should still stay on guard, everyone," Dumbledore said. "With the same resourcefulness he showed against Dolores, he may act against us if Daniel indeed has a hidden, malicious motive. Watch yourself when you are near him but try not to raise suspicions."

"Albus, why even try keeping him around if he is that dangerous?" McGonagall inquired. 

"The same reason as to why Quirell was allowed to teach despite his... condition. We can find out a lot if we keep him close." 

Everyone was startled by a sound behind them, Flitwick even jumped. They turned around and saw that a book had fallen from one of the tables. The door was still closed. Sighing, Filius fixed his glasses, as Dumbledore turned to the one who had been quiet all this time. 

"Severus. Do you have something to say?" 

"Albus. He actually asked me to help him with his research."

"Oh? So you think you can get closer to him by joining?"

"Yes, sir." 

"That will be an excellent way of learning more about his identity. And putting our minds to rest." 

The one who was the reason behind the fallen book narrowed his invisible eyes and turned to leave, going through the wall outside.

Chapter Text

"Blimey, that's insane," Ron muttered, not touching his roasted potatoes. "I'm surprised Fenton is still here." 

Harry turned towards the staff table, seeing the young professor eat his lunch. From the outset, it didn't look like he was worried at all. This, coupled with how murderous Umbridge looked, everyone could figure out that Danny was there to stay. 

"How did he pull that off, though?" Hermione whispered questioningly. "Umbridge can sack any teacher she wants. And look at how angry she is."

"She is gonna begin croaking any time now," Ron cackled. 

"Then she failed to fire him," concluded Harry. "Do you think it is something Dumbledore said?" 

"Or maybe it was Fenton himself," Mumbled Hermione. 

"You can't be serious, Hermione," the raven-haired teen said, "Look at him." 

As he said it, Danny cheerfully emptied a goblet with pumpkin juice and wiped his mouth. 

"Harry, we all know something is off about him."

"Come on, you don't believe those rumours about him are true, right?" Harry asked.

"About his crimes? After being wrong about our teachers three times out of four, I'm cautious about making claims. Something doesn't add up though." 

"What do you mean?" 

"His grades weren't better than yours. He was expelled. And yet, you see how Fenton teaches. What was he doing during the last five years to be an expert like this?" 

Harry's expression suddenly gained clarity. "Ghosts."

"What?" 

"It's obvious, isn't it? How they talk about him, why Peeves is afraid and why he knows so much about them." 

"I don't get how that makes him so good."

"Honestly Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes, "He was involved in some dangerous activities. That's probably what made him strong." 

"Nothing bad about it, though," said Harry. 

"Yes, but how come nobody knows about him then? Shouldn't a man who has done so much be famous not only with ghosts?" 

"Maybe he just doesn't like publicity."

"We should investigate."

"Hermione, we have homework," Ron deadpanned. 

"You could have done it beforehand," Mumbled Hermione and sighed, "Yes, we should concentrate on studying for now."

"We would expect nothing else from you, prefect," said one George Weasley, emerging behind them alongside his inseparable brother. 

"Always hard at work to keep us all safe and her mind filled," added Fred. "Don't be so hard on the teach. He is neat."

"A master we all can learn from," said George dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. 

"Are you still trying to get him?" Ron asked.

"That we do, we aren't going to surrender that easily."

"Problem is, he is one step ahead."

"From that box he confiscated he knows all the tricks we have, so we need to come up with new ones. That's quite exciting, isn't it, brother?"

"Indeed it is. We are actually suspecting that he got Peeves involved." 

"What makes you say this?"

"Fenton knows every nook and cranny we use. Aside from that little piece of paper Harry has, the only way he can learn about them is to talk with ghosts."

"But why Peeves?"

"I don't exactly think Nick or Baron would encourage this." 

"Fair point. Have you noticed anything strange?"

"Hermione..."

"What? I'm trying to understand who we are dealing with."

"Nothing, really," answered Fred, "Aside from the fact that he is as sneaky as a gnome."

"As a ghost more like," Ron mumbled, stabbing a small potato with a fork. "He really likes playing the part." 

Harry thought about it harder. From how Umbridge presented it, and what Danny was like, the teen could only guess that it was natural for the man to be this way. Yes, he was often polite, cheerful and friendly, but he probably wasn't always like this. He didn't look strong, he was a descendant of a mass murderer of wizard folk. It could be understood that he was probably bullied in school. Harry realised this because he and Dudley Dursley lived under the same roof. Before he got his wand and could bluff, his living arrangements were subpar. So, Danny probably had to be sneaky to avoid unwanted attention. And it probably was rubbing off on him even now. The thought made him sad for a moment, but after seeing him act so cheerful, it made him believe that the man was alright now. More or less.

Speaking of whom, the topic of the kids' conversation soon got up and set out of the Great Hall. His mind was in fact busy processing not the upcoming lesson, but the words he had heard when spying on his colleagues and his boss. To be frank, he was pissed at how distrustful most of them were. It wasn't anything new, they already were keeping him in the dark during the summer. But it wasn't just some small secret, was it? They now suspected him to be on Voldemort's side. Him, a muggle born wizard, for crying out loud. That double-faced, spectacle-wearing bastard in charge of school was toying with him. He thought that Danny would just sit around and let them spy on him. Fenton had prevented a scandal with a tiny exchange and the man just put a label of his own on him. The young professor sighed and leaned against a wall. 

"Shouldn't have hired me in the first place," he whispered angrily. And if someone could see him, the ominous green, deathly glow would be seen emanating from his eyes. Suddenly he was at fault for everything. Again. 

Was he really that scary? Was what he did unintentionally frightening? Danny protected not only himself, but potentially the school by having the Inquisitor in his pocket. It led him to make a simple decision. Shall someone from the actual staff get sacked, he won't raise a damn finger to stop a toad from having a fight with a viper. He was consumed by a well-conceived anger, and it killed even his nascent desire to assist the collective. His ghostly part had its say, and no matter how kind he could try to appear, the grudge-bearing nature of spectres prevented him from forgiving things on the next day. 

Perhaps it was selfish, self-centred. They had their concerns. Dumbledore was worried about the Dark Lord, and Danny was a spammer in everyone's works. A secretive, unknown spammer that was also, apparently, dangerous with his level of knowledge. If they knew what the man was actually capable of, it would not alleviate any concerns. It would only increase them. It was also his fault to some extent, because it was Danny who kept those secrets. A very reasonable fear, it was. But, again, just fire him if you are so paranoid, then. Not that Danny wanted it, but that factor was still annoying. What was even more vexing, is that the young professor actually needed Snape's help.  The young man knew that Severus was not going to come to him immediately, to avoid suspicion. Give him a week or so. But Danny did not intend to wait until some other incident occurred. Better milk that cow for all it was worth. Next time they met, Danny was going to ask him directly once again. 

"Professor?" 

Danny blinked and turned towards the source of the voice. There, a fourth year blonde girl was standing, wearing carton spectacles with red and blue lenses. An odd sight all round. 

"Lovegood, was it? Is there something you need?" 

"Our class is soon," she said dreamily as always, "Shouldn't you go there before it starts?"

"I was intending to," Danny grumbled softly. "And what are you doing here?"

"I heard there is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack nearby." 

"I doubt it can get on school grounds." 

"I know, but as I was going through the corridor anyways, I thought I could still check."

"Are you sure they weren't messing with you on purpose?" Asked Danny with concern. 

"I'm not sure," Luna mumbled, "You sound like you have seen Snorkack before." 

The professor smirked, "As a matter of fact, I have. It's not from Sweden, however. And they can become invisible, the buggers." 

The girl's eyes widened, "You have actually met them." 

"And I even caught a couple, believe it or not. But I always released dangerous things back to their habitats." 

"Snorkacks aren't dangerous," Luna argued seriously. "They eat truffles and insects." 

"They like coming where they don't belong. And when scared, they can react violently. That horn of theirs is not for show, I'm telling you," Danny looked at his wrist watch. "Yikes, we are being late. I think we should hurry."

Danny neglected to mention the part that Snorkacks did not belong not only to Sweden, but to this whole plane of existence. The world of the dead had a lot of bizarre inhabitants. They in particular were quite a bother, since they could sense the rifts between dimensions and just loved to cross over, much to the dismay of the one who had tasked himself with keeping such creatures inside their own place. Not just for the safety of others, but for their own, too. Wizarding kind was far from accepting, he had come to learn. They didn't always appreciate it, they resisted, but Danny was sure that he was doing the right thing. Normal poltergeists and incorporeal spirits were a common thing in England, so Danny wasn't concerned about them. In France, he had heard, the treatment was harsher. He would have to visit when he was done with his project. Being able to carve the path himself was making his job much easier. 

He really needed to talk with Severus afterwards. 

And he found the Potions master quite soon, during lunch, when he was eating in a solitude of his little dungeon. Danny entered the classroom without knocking, getting himself an immediate scowl. Despite his grievance, the young professor smiled.

"I'm always surprised to see you indulge in humanly desires," he commented. 

Snape kept glaring at his visitor. "What do you need, Fenton?"

"Straight to the point, huh? Well, I was wondering if you have reconsidered my offer. Remember that one?"

Snape's look softened, but it still was a glare. "What has brought this up all of a sudden?" He asked.

"Well, now that Umbridge is off my back, I am more than happy to go on with my work. So, what do you say?" 

Severus was not dumb. At first he suspected that Danny knew something. A perk of always being gloomy is that at situations like this his face did not change, no matter what he thought. But how could Danny learn that? All Heads of houses were discreet and would not just blather it all. Could he eavesdrop on someone's conversation? That was certainly possible. Very well, Severus decided. He would take the bait. But not immediately.

"You are still on probation, Fenton. I wouldn't rely on your blackmail to last." 

"Maybe," Danny shrugged. "Oh, what am I saying, she will find out that I'm bluffing eventually." 

He was letting Snape in on the plan to lure him into a false sense of security. 

"Bluffing?" 

"Well," Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I got her, but the warden never talked to me, actually. And he certainly won't testify as I said he would. I am hoping I pass the examination before she finds out so that she has less arguments to sack me by that time."

"She has already written to the Minister, no doubt. Fenton, you are walking on an awfully thin ice."

"I will never get tired of telling you: I've got it covered."

"How did you even get blackmail if the warden never even saw you?" 

Danny hummed. "I have some acquaintances who have ways of extracting information. Legally, of course. I honour the book of law." 

"Is this along the lines of 'I'm permitted to do it because nobody says otherwise?'"

"I'm glad we understand each other so well, Severus!" Danny lightly clapped. "So what do you say?"

Snape tapped on the table, "First I have to look at what you have already done."

"I keep a journal," Danny grinned. "I'll fetch it after the classes are over."

And the professor kept his promise. He had also checked if the information in it did not compromise his identity in any way. With how professional Danny tried to be, there were only necessary details. A couple of things could reveal the truth if you derailed from the original meanings and terms. In the evening Severus received a small notebook in the red leather cover, now having to spend the rest of it reading what his lesser liked colleague had scribbled over the ears. Luckily Severus was a hard-working man, he didn't have anything to check, because it had all been dealt with by then. Sitting in his office, under the light of a lit lamp, Severus first opened a random page just to understand what he was dealing with. At the top, there was a special line for writing down dates.

'12 April, 1994

Found a new supplier yesterday. For the time being the ectoplasm will be in abundance. 

This is the attempt #123. Bezoar has shown to possess a volatile reaction when mixed in with ectoplasm. Its decomposition and latter mixing with Sulphur indicates the acidity of the liquid when in contact with Nitrogen in particular, abundant in each Bezoar. Tried to see if there is any way to negate the effect before I try anything else. I have resorted to the alkali in my disposal (note to self, find some limewater). Sodium hydroxide, lye, potassium hydroxide were tried alongside limewater. Only NaOH has shown potency. Decomposition was halted for the time of reaction. The experiments in that direction will have to be stopped for the time being. I don't see the potential of going there now.'

Snape hummed in thought. The boy had an interesting approach to Potions. It was like muggle chemistry more than anything. It is them who always looked at the components of periodic table. Snape himself was no stranger to the thing. Even if it was an uncharted territory for the Potions master. They always judged ingredients for their magical merits, and tried to bring out said merits. Those who walked the borderline were alchemists. It was very difficult, because it required knowledge of both aspects. Danny was somewhat amateur from what he could see, but Fenton was not on the level of Longbottom, that's for sure. Snape decided to look at the very start of the journal. 

'21 May, 1993

So, I bought a journal. Not sure how I should start this thing. My parents' work is all gone, so I am planning on putting down my own research down to...maybe compensate it. Somehow. It will be hard, I'll need decades to replace everything they wrote. Stupid me, I should have taken at least a couple of tubes with blueprints. I think a good start to that will be retracing Mom and Dad's... and Vlad's footsteps. It will be difficult, I'm aware. But if I succeed, I get free ectoplasm for my future plans and experiments, as well as much needed contacts. That's the best plan for the future I've got. It took them five years to create a prototype, so I guess it will take quite a while for me as well.'

This part confused Severus. Fenton's parents were muggles, he did not deny that. What in the world were they researching that involved ectoplasm? It was a material found only among ghosts, and those were kept in check by the Ministry. In hopes for an answer, Snape looked through the yellowish pages, but right from the next one, there were only research notes up until the very end. Fenton's commitment was undeniable, he had been at work for two years by then. This plan of his, however, was not his only focus. Occasionally Danny had been distracted by side-projects, some of which baffled the professor with their bizarre nature. Why would a research journal be riddled with notes about a 'Fenton thermos' or, heaven-forbid, 'Boo-merang'. That's got to be a joke. Otherwise, Snape could only reason that the boy had an inflated ego. And was very unimaginative with names. Severus was obviously not getting much vital information from that little red book. Danny wouldn't have given it if the journal was not safe. But some interesting words did occasionally come up. There were other letters written over them to make the words impossible to decipher. 

But he got a basic understanding of what the boy had been doing so far. Danny had narrowed the search over the years, and he was still following the basic procedures of coming up with new potions. A greater question was whether or not he should actually assist the young man in creating...something. Snape didn't read everything, and he certainly took notice of a couple of ripped out pages. Danny certainly had things to hide. But there were also no indications that whatever the young man was doing posed danger to anyone. Snape ultimately decided that he would make an actual input. Lest the boy blew something up. Having made up his mind, Severus met with Danny the following morning at the nexus of all life in the school. 

Having taken a seat at the Staff table, Snape began stating his condition for assistance. The experiments were to be conducted in a safe environment, which meant relocating the equipment to the dungeons, closer to the dwelling of 'the greasy bat'. Snape chose to neglect the jabs at his expense. If ignored, he might just stop this. Hopefully. Danny was obviously perplexed at the idea, and didn't like leaving his toys to be fiddled with by a person he secretly distrusted, but eventually conceded. Danny's own inventions were left where they were, however. Snape, however, made it clear that their first shared experiment couldn't take place earlier than the weekend. Danny was fine with that, he too had a job, as well as certain preparations for the exam. 

Speaking of which, neither of the two knew just how the rumour of him being scrutinised got out, but that's what happened. The students themselves were now aware that the one preparing them also needed to go through the same thing. It was, to some extent, a growing sense of kinship. Some students liked him more because of that, of how he needed to go through the same thing they did here and then. Hardly everyone reached such thought, but those who did, had some increased sympathies for the young teacher. It was also a test of his teaching methods. If he himself passed, it would mean his methods too worked. Umbridge didn't wait long to contact the Ministry and arrange everything. Apparently, the High Inquisitor had a lot of spare time. However, some things just didn't bode well.

"This Friday?" McGonagall asked, hardly hiding her surprise amidst another staff meeting. These were becoming too much of a hurdle for her liking. 

"Indeed, Minerva," the Inquisitor smiled. "Better resolve this matter as quickly as possible. Before the problem properly takes roots." 

Her gaze turned towards Danny, who so far had been leaning against the wall with crossed hands. 

"I see no problem. What exactly do you plan, Dolores?" He asked.

"Both theoretical and practical parts."

"He doesn't have a wand," Flitwick argued, "I don't think it is possible to..."

"I am aware, Filius," Dolores grumbled. "That's why we will keep it simple."

"That was my idea!" Danny raised his hand proudly, making Dolores's expression even sourer.

"Fenton will be tested by one of our best aurors. If he doesn't lose in a duel, we will consider that part acceptable."

"Are you sure this will be..." 

"I don't see any other option," shrugged the young man. "Thank you for your assistance, Dolores. This wouldn't be possible without you."

Her face was slowly becoming red from seething anger. She didn't say anything as she stormed out. 

"Am I the only one seeing patterns for each of our talks?" Danny asked. 

During the next days, people didn't see Fenton do anything to prepare for the exam on Friday. Some were naturally concerned. Some were sceptic and some were frustrated with his irresponsibility. In truth Danny did practice and studied theory for quite some time. To brush up his memory. After all, it would do him good even afterwards. However, he did so in a very secluded place — the Forbidden Forest. There he could be sure that nobody interrupted him. And nobody saw him perform the best tricks. In all honesty, he would prefer to use his other form during the exam, but that would entail too many questions. And legal processes. 

At this thought, Danny huffed, as between his fingers jumped a tiny green spark. He flicked his hand, and a burst of green light was launched forward with a loud wheezing noise. It flew a distance of twenty feet and hit the first tree in its way, blowing it up to embers and splinters with yet another thunderous sound. The young man winced, turning intangible in the face of the projectiles. 

"When did it get so strong?" He asked himself quietly, picking up a piece of scorched wood lying at his legs. 

It was true that he hadn't fought anyone for quite some time, hence his obliviousness to the level of his own power. Curious, Danny continued, concentrating the energy more carefully and then swiping his palm horizontally. A crescent of green light flew forward and hit another tree, this time only cutting it like no lumberjack ever could. As it fell, Danny examined his hand. Yes, he was just a bit rusty, he could work on that. After all, he wasn't letting the fate of the first tree to befall on the unlucky auror. And to be honest, the second trunk wasn't doing much better.

His exercise was cut short when he heard a distant sound of many hard objects hitting the ground. It was almost as if there was a herd of some ungulates. And from the increasing loudness, Danny knew that whoever was making those sounds was coming closer. He prepared himself for what was going to happen. Soon, it turned out that the noise was in fact made by a herd of centaurs. All armed with bows and looking very angry. 

"Oh, wonderful," Danny muttered, slowly raising his hands. "Look, guys, I don't want any troubles."

"You have a lot of nerve coming here," one of them said and stepped forward, "A creature with doomed future." 

The young man pouted. "Hey, it is not me who is doomed. It's the rest of world that is screwed. Didn't the prophecy change over the years?" 

"You appear to be aware of it," the centaur huffed. 

"And so do you. Doesn't surprise me, you guys are all seers. In case the stars did not tell you this, Clockwork and I are in cahoots. You know him, right?" 

"We do not accept his authority, hybrid." 

"He is the Time Master, pal," Danny sighed. "You don't get to choose. Are we done?" 

"Leave immediately. We won't stand for your presence."

"But you tolerate some pretty indecent creatures."

"You are the filthiest of all, a human who lingers even after his death." 

Danny clicked his tongue, "You are awfully foul-mouthed in front of a walking doomsday clock."

"Leave. At. Once," the main centaur warned, and Danny could hear the strings of bows being pulled. 

The young man's eyes turned neon green. 

"I will. When I am done. We can still resolve our differences peacefully. Am I disrupting your sleep or something? It is quite late. If you would..."

Danny heard a string being released, instantly he raised his hand and caught an arrow flying into his temple. 

"I get it, in your society of pricks I am ostracised. Fine, I'll find another place to practice."

"If you show up in our forest..."

"You will what?" The glow in Danny's eyes was not ceasing. "Tickle me with these things?" He snapped the arrow and tossed the pieces away. "Don't make threats you can't fulfil, pal. I'm leaving because my boss will scold me if I harmed anyone in this wonderful national reserve."

"Who are you talking about?"

Danny sighed, and after the next blink, the glow was gone. "The stars are quite picky about the knowledge they give you, aren't they? Dumbledore is the boss. I am a teacher. I thought they are allowed to come here."

"But not to destroy everything around it, impudent child!" 

"Finally!" Danny exclaimed. "Wasn't so hard to give me an explanation, was it?"

His snark was not appreciated by the centaurs, but there was admittedly little they could do. Danny was usually very considerate of half-breeds, being one himself. He respected them, he pitied werewolves. However, it didn't excuse the arrogant behaviour of the half-horses in front of him. It largely explained why the wizards were hesitant to raise their status. The former were bigots, sure, but the tiniest bits of sympathy were often squished beneath their hooves. 

"I guess I will just go and find some other place," Danny grumbled. "Admittedly, I am taking out some frustrations here."

"We are not interested in your reasons. Get lost." 

Danny gave him a small glare, before turning around to leave. He was half-tempted to give them a scare out of spite, and a little devilish Danny on his shoulder was whispering to kick the bastard, but he decided to let it slide. He was, after all, a person that chose to avoid conflict. Granted, he failed most of the times. He and his mouth that never shut up. And yet, he regretted absolutely nothing, aye. 

A bit sore about the encounter, Danny returned to the castle grounds, muttering some unsavoury words under his breath. The hours were late, so he didn't meet any students on his way. However, the ones unbothered by the need to rest were ghosts. Fat Friar emerged from around the corner, having triggered Danny's ghost sense. 

"Oh, Daniel! Fancy meeting you here... why the long face?"

"Hello, Friar," Danny waved. "Just had a run-in with centaurs. The pricks chased me away."

"I understand that their attitudes are not the most approachable..."

"I know you will try to give it a positive spin. Somehow. But don't bother, I've made up my mind."

"Very well... if you don't mind me asking, what were you doing there?" 

"Training. I can't just fire blasts in the hall." 

"Yes, that would be unwise," Friar muttered thoughtfully. 

"Do you know any place for me to practice?"

"Not sure that I... wait. I think I know of a place!"

"You do?" Danny brightened up. 

"Indeed. Follow me... you can fly while like this, right? As a human." 

"I am floating right now," Danny smirked, demonstratively tapping on the ground without making a sound. "Lead the way, just don't be too quick. I can't fly fast while like this." 

Friar gave a small laugh and nodded. The ghost and the half-human made their way through the walls and the ceilings of the castle, careful not to get spotted. They stopped in an empty corridor. Danny dropped invisibility and started looking around curiously. 

"Are you suggesting that I train here?" Danny rubbed his temple. 

"Heavens, no. But. Hogwarts is a place of many secrets. Here we can find another one of those. I remember hiding some things here. Back when I was alive." 

Danny raised an eyebrow. At his stare, the Friar began looking around. And if he was still alive, he would have blushed. 

"I... chose to hide food there. If I brought it to the dorm, they would have laughed at me." 

Danny chuckled and shook his head. "Hey, we all have our passions. So, what's with the secret and why haven't I heard anything about it?"

"Not every professor knows about it. And for me to tell about it, you have to ask first. And I, admittedly, can't tell this to everyone, Dumbledore asked us not to. But I know who you are, Daniel. You are a hero!"

"I... wouldn't be so extreme..."

"It's not extreme. I really admire you, boy. For your age you have faced so many challenges and saved us all from certain doom. I think I owe you at least this bit of information for all you did."

Danny couldn't resist a smile. "Thank you, Friar. But you don't owe me anything."

"About the Room of Requirements. It always appears at the time of your need in this very corridor. For instance, I told you that I stored my lunch there. Imagine that you need a place to store your things. Then, with that thought, pace three times, back and forward, right there."

Danny felt a bit dumb for following the silly instructions. But. What did he have to lose? The young professor walked from one spot to another three times, just as he was told, and then something stopped him. There, in the wall, appeared a door that definitely hadn't been there before. Wide-eyed, Danny turned to Friar.

"I could just phase inside." 

"No, child. You could not. This wall appears hollow if you just do this. But, if you go through the door, the effect will be quite different. Come, open it."

Danny approached it and put his hand on the handle. Swinging the door open, he remained at his spot, gobsmacked at what he saw. The insides of the room, right from the outset, were enormous. The ceiling was nowhere to be seen, and the other end of the room could not be found either. But that was largely due to the huge mountains of junk. There were tons of them. Wardrobes, scrolls, globes. All possible pieces of furniture could be found if you looked carefully. It truly was a storage place. Danny entered the room, guided by his curious mind. Friar followed close second, reminding the young man to close the door. 

"This is incredible!" Danny said breathlessly. "Still not as littered as my Dad's garage, but still." 

"It truly is, right? You can exit and repeat the process, imagining a place fit for you to train."

"That's great..." Danny suddenly perked up. 

"What is it?" The ghost asked. 

"I think I'm sensing something. You said that no ghost could get here?" 

"Yes, the door doesn't appear near the ghosts. I figured it would work for you and turned out to be right." 

"Then why am I picking up a signature?" The question Danny asked was mostly for himself.

He set off in seemingly random direction. Now it was Friar who had to keep up with his companion. This trip lasted for ten whole minutes of going in a straight line through the pillars of junk. Soon, Friar caught up with Danny, who was holding a strange object in his right hand. A discoloured, old tiara. 

"Daniel, what is this about?" Friar asked worriedly.

"That's what I want to find out," Danny muttered, his free palm igniting with green light. "This thing is obviously ancient. And it is the source of some strange ecto-energy. Something is written here, a bit hard to make out, but I think I get it: 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.'."

Friar gasped: "This is Ravenclaw's motto. And it is also a diadem...it can't be!" 

"What is it?" Asked Danny.

"It is the diadem of Ravenclaw! It belonged to her when she was alive, and was lost...and yet it is here!" Friar rambled. "Oh, this is so exciting!" 

"Friar," Danny interrupted seriously. "You are forgetting that this thing reeks. And I don't like this one bit."

"But... what do you reckon is it?" 

The young professor's face turned grim. "The substance of the dead stuck to an inanimate object. Corrupted substance, might I add. I am actually holding a Horcrux. Ancients, what a find," he muttered. 

"I am not sure I follow." 

"And you shouldn't. Luckily," Danny smirked. "I have just the way of handling these. Un momento." 

His hand turned intangible. He wrapped it around the diadem, actually being able to grab SOMETHING, his face contorting in displeasure. It was like he was touching pieces of wet food in a kitchen sink. Not without effort, but Danny ripped out an object of sorts. His palm was covered in black, thick smoke. Danny balled a fist, engulfed in green light of his own and squashed it. Like a tomato it popped, dissolving in the air. 

"Well, I sure did something."

At this moment, the Boy-Who-Lived and the Man-Who-Died-From-the-Boy-Who-Lived screamed in agony. 

"Daniel... What did you do?"

"A piece of soul bound to an inanimate object is basically possessing it. I have an experience of exorcising ghosts by enforcing my own presence. Besides, I had a run-in with Herpo the Foul at some point. I don't know to whom this Horcrux belonged."

"Herpo?" Friar scratched his temple, "He has been dead for millennia."

"Now he is," Danny smirked. 

"I think we should tell Dumbledore," Friar said carefully, seeing the young man's expression sour. "Daniel. I don't know what it was, but it IS a diadem of Ravenclaw. A find of a century!" 

"You are right," Danny sighed. "We'll bring it to him. Can we omit the Horcrux part?" 

"I am not sure... this is very concerning. I am sure Dumbledore will know what to do." 

"He leaves an impression of someone who knows everything, eh?" Danny muttered bitterly. "On one hand, I'm happy to dump this stuff on him. I don't have the time to solve another case of a wannabe-leech. On the other," he sighed and looked at the ghost. "Dumbledore doesn't trust me, Friar. How can I trust him?" 

"What brought this up?" The spectre asked, sounding surprised. 

"I overheard him talking. The guy thinks I'm a death eater, no doubt." 

"Don't be like this, Daniel. It doesn't mean he is going to ignore a matter such as this."

"But won't that make me appear strange? I just waltzed in and slaughtered a piece of someone's corrupted soul. Again, Friar. He is already suspecting me. This," he raised the diadem, "Won't help my reputation." 

"I guess you are correct," Friar mumbled. 

"I'll bring it eventually. Just not now. After I am fired, maybe," Danny said with a smirk. "This obviously means that we don't disclose what happened here to anyone yet. Can you promise me that?" 

"Daniel. You know that I don't approve of all these secrets between you all. I could try speaking to Dumbledore on your behalf..."

"I appreciate it, Friar, but no. He will ask too many questions to you then. Besides, it will make me look and feel bad if I send you instead. Let's leave it at that."

"If you say so," Friar mumbled. "You can't leave it lying around here, though." 

"Surely. I'll hide it in another place. Maybe I could sell it."

"DANIEL!" 

"What? I need money!" Danny then smiled. "I'm just kidding, pal. I get it, the thing is important." 

As he was going to the exit, twirling the diadem around his finger, Danny got an idea to whom this Horcrux belonged. 

Located in Wiltshire, England, the manor of a rich wizarding family was tucked away from any muggle. It was the residence of Malfoy house. And it also was the place that the Dark Lord had taken residence in for the time being. For his plans to come into fruition, he needed discretion, so he couldn't remain there for long. But, by the force of chance, it was in that manor where the agonising scream was heard in the middle of the night. Lucius Malfoy, the patriarch of the house, usually reserved and aristocratic, was unkempt and shaky, because he had no clue what caused such reaction from their lord. And he prayed that it wasn't because of him. He went to check on him, as did every Death Eater in the building. However, Voldemort did not grant anyone audience until an hour later. And it just so happened that the owner of the house was to face the Dark Lord's reaction. 

In the dining room he sat, his skin pale as a paper-sheet, his head not having a single hair or a nose for that matter. His scarlet eyes bore into the host, who was still dressed in his nightwear. Voldemort himself, it appeared, did not sleep at all, seeing him dressed in his black robes as always. Lucius saw the man's pet — a gigantic snake, slither past his legs. 

"Lucius," Voldemort greeted.

"My Lord," Lucius bowed. "What..."

"That's what I wish to know," the Dark Lord said with cold collectedness. "Something precious was stolen from me today, Lucius." 

Malfoy looked at him in shock. "Nobody entered or exited this place, we would have known, I specifically put the people on guard..."

"No, you are not to blame here, Lucius. There is nothing you could have done to stop this. However," the sinister undertones in Voldemort's voice became more noticeable as he rose from his seat at the head of the table. "I wish to know something. I hope you will indulge me."

"I will try to answer." 

"Has anyone entered the Lestrange vault?" 

"No, nobody entered there for a while." 

"It will not hurt to check," the statement sounded like an order. "Coincidences like this are impossible."

"Milord, if I may ask..."

"No you may not," Voldemort hissed. "I understand what you wish to know as is. Check there, Lucius."

"It shall be done," Lucius bowed again.

"If you would still humour me," continued Voldemort, "You told me about that new teacher in Hogwarts."

"That insolent boy? Yes, Draco described him perfectly. And he is also a muggleborn of all things...My Lord, are you suggesting that he is behind it?"

"I have the reasons to suspect him. One of my prised possessions was right in front of Dumbledore's eyes for years, and not even one month in, it gets destroyed. The only thing that changed is the professor that teaches Defence. And if he remained in his post despite what fools at the Ministry say, there is something that old man is plotting. We must understand what it is before we execute our plan. You are free to leave now."

Chapter Text

Friday finally came about, and with it the dreaded inspection. Danny's morning began with reading the notes in one of the books he had. He did so without looking up as he went down to breakfast, earning himself confused and even amused glances. With how nobody had seen him prepare before, he looked like a lazy student trying to piece together at least some titbits of information. Still, he swiftly avoided all the obstacles on his way to the Great Hall, be it walls, kids or fellow professors. He came by and went, having eaten his breakfast very quickly, his ice blue eyes still glued to the book. He was only interrupted once, when Dolores arrived to ruin his perfect plan of action. 

"Mr. Fenton. For once I am observing your diligence."

Danny did not respond and chewed on his toast, not looking up. 

"Mr. Fenton." 

Another bite. 

"I am talking to you!"

"Good for you," Danny mumbled.

"Are you even listening?!" 

"Nope."

"The inspectors are waiting in the courtyard. Do come there if you don't wish to get tossed out of this school this instant." 

Danny waved her off and went back to his book. Looking as angry as ever when the two were in close proximity. If only the brat didn't have the blackmail. Danny did glance at her leaving form, taking a sip of coffee and then going back to reading. He stopped reading near the end, putting away the book upon realising that learning this way was not effective in the slightest. The letters just passed him by without leaving any knowledge behind. Still, he had been studying beforehand, so he obviously was not going in unprepared. Sighing, Danny stood up and went to the courtyard, the many eyes of student body watching him leave, him looking as upbeat as ever.

On his way to the yard Danny turned invisible. He wanted to examine the newcomers before standing before them. Because he knew that they were going to do the same. He, however, would have a larger amount of time to see for himself. As he went, he was fully submerged in his thoughts about the last time he faced an exam of such vitality. After getting kicked out of magical school at the age of fourteen, Danny had no choice but to enrol in a normal one. But as luck would have it, that year there was a Career Aptitude Test, an important exam that would largely affect his future job, as the name suggested. Problem was, he had spent the previous four years casting spells and feeding Nifflers. Not solving equations and learning history. And that inaptitude that threatened to ruin his life in muggle world, too, was the precipice of a heart-wrenching story of how a single cheat can ruin someone's life. All worked out in the end, and it involved time-travel, too. Didn't save his family at a later date, but there was a valuable lesson to be learned. It left him with a notion of how sincere one should be. That lies brought only suffering. The thought of how poorly he followed said ideas now was disheartening. 

In any case, Danny soon got to his goal. Umbridge Danny promptly ignored. His interest was on two other people that accompanied her near the main fountain. One of them was an elderly, short and stern-looking lady. The other caught Danny's interest much easier, maybe due to how he looked. That man had an imposing presence, looking like some noire detective. He even had a trench coat. Finally, having finished his examination, Danny dropped invisibility behind them.

"Good morning!" The professor called, startling everyone as always. "I'll never get tired of this." 

"What in the world do you think you are doing, young man?" The old lady asked. 

"Saying hello. Pardon my lack of courtesy. You are the inspectors who are checking my competence, are you not?" 

The lady blinked, whilst the man remained stoic. Umbridge was the one to speak next. 

"This. Is the insufferable man I was talking to you about, Griselda, Dawlish."

"He looks like a child!"

"I am twenty, lady," Danny huffed and crossed his hands. "Guess my face hasn't made it to the front page of Prophet yet. So. Can we begin? I had to cancel my classes today."

"I will be happy to perform his duties," Umbridge put in, "Till the end of the year, I sincerely hope." 

Danny gasped. "Dolores, I appreciate your willingness to help," he said as insincerely as possible. "I can hardly find a person as diligent as you," he then turned to the two visitors. "Sorry for the scene. But seriously, the sooner we get this out of the way, the better, don't you agree? Hey, Columbo, are you the one fighting me?"

"Are you talking to me?" Asked Dawlish with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, because you look... never mind. It's nothing derogatory, I promise."

"Yes, we are going to duel after you are done with written test."

"Do you have a classroom we could use?" Griselda asked, obviously responsible for the test part. 

"Yeah, actually," Danny put in. "There is one the Headmaster provided, just close by. Follow me!"

Dawlish, now dubbed Columbo, stayed near the fountain. Umbridge went to 'supervise' the children education. Danny may not have shown it, but he was also concerned. He may have mocked her, but she had shown to be less than adequate when it came to her views and attitude. Not to mention that her methods differed so much from his that the lesson was as good as wasted. That was the best case scenario. Danny shook his head and pushed away that thought. He would deal with this later, now his attention needed to be solely on the test. As he sat in an empty classroom at the first row, Griselda took something out of her handbag. 

She put a piece of parchment right in front of the young man, face down. 

"Never thought I would experience that again," Danny mumbled, seeing Griselda take out a quill. 

"From what I know, you never did go through NEWTs. Here, this is an anti-cheating quill. Don't even think of trying to be sneaky."

"Never had intention to," smirked Danny. "I had a good lesson on cheating during tests, trust me."

"I certainly hope so. This test is one of our older ones. You can begin."

Danny flipped the parchment over and got down to work. This was his chance to, once and for all, prove his worth. He would not let himself screw up. Confidently, without as much as a waver, he immersed himself in writing the test. The young professor had a couple of hours. The questions before him were not of extreme difficulty. His knowledge of Dark matters, despite how ominous that sounded, was handy. Danny scribbled on the parchment, invoking his past experiences to aid him in writing down the answers. Occasionally he looked up at the inspector lady, who was surprisingly attentive for her age. He would expect her to open a book to read instead of keeping constant watch, and yet she was burning a hole through his scalp. 

His mind occasionally drifted away, to the classroom currently under the occupation of a cardigan-wearing menace. He was really worried about what Umbridge was going to do with the children. It's not like she would cut their throats, but boring them to death was certainly something she was capable of. And the lessons were as good as wasted with her methods, she definitely was not going to pick up the torch and continue his program. They really would need to pick up the pace later. Counting the hours in his head, Danny figured that he would have the time to teach a couple of late lessons if he hurried. 

By the time the smaller hand of clocks marked the passing of two hours, Danny stood up, a smirk on his face, the parchment with answers in hand. 

"I'm done!" He said. 

"Good," responded Griselda curtly and took the parchment. "I'll check it. In the meantime, go to Dawlish and he will evaluate you." 

"Sure thing, lady!" 

Danny waved and exited the classroom. Right there he took a deep breath of fresh air, and set out to find Columbo. As he went, the bell rang, and the students were slowly pouring out of their classrooms. They occasionally greeted the professor, if they saw him. The normal shirt and pants in a sea of cloaks gave him away in any local crowd. The rumours, however, travelled fast. From what Danny gathered along the way, someone was at the courtyard when he and others were conversing, and now everyone knew that something visually exciting was going to happen. Not often did you see a professor fight an established auror. Thus, the colourful crowd of students not burdened by any lessons at the moment gathered round, much to the visible displeasure of Dawlish, who was sitting on a bench, waiting for Danny to appear, and, surprisingly, unwillingly conversing with Dumbledore of all people. Of course he would be there, Danny thought without enthusiasm. He was now a phantom menace to the school, after all. Pun absolutely intended. Upon seeing Danny, Dumbledore beamed at his youngest employee.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton, you are quite early." 

"Well, I've had plenty of time to memorise the stuff." 

"You ready?" Asked Dawlish and got up.

"You bet, Columbo," Danny smirked. "Where are we gonna do that?" 

"Right here, Dumbledore will make sure nobody gets caught in the crossfire." 

The professor looked at the Headmaster, receiving a mischievous smile, "I can't stop the kids from sating their curiosity," the old man said. 

This Danny could understand. 

"Okay, how do we fight? Standard rules?"

"No, we will not hold back, movement is free. The one who is out of commission loses."

Danny's own expression turned devious. "Oh, I have no objections to that." 

In the meantime, there was one particular trio that joined the audience. The Golden trio was no less interested than others in how everything was going to turn out. And, luckily, they were among those in the first row. 

"Gee, wish I brought some snacks," mumbled Ron.

"It isn't some Quidditch tournament, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "This is very important. He can get fired if he loses." 

"I don't know," responded Harry, "Professor doesn't seem to mind himself, right? He also seems pretty confident."

"This is gonna be so cool, wait, what are Fred and George doing?" 

Hermione looked where Ron had, and her eyes widened in shock. 

"Oh, no, they won't," she muttered and went towards them. 

"Well, our stuffy friend is busy now," Ron cackled. "Hey, Harry, who do you reckon gonna win?" 

"I don't know the other guy."

"I know him, that's Dawlish, Dad told me about him. Grades as good as Hermione's, one of the best aurors there are. And on the other, we have our teach, who... doesn't even have a wand..." Ron's voice was filling with a sense of dread as he spoke. 

"That doesn't look fair."

"It's that toad's doing, I'm telling you."

At this Hermione chose to return, frustration evident on her face. "Can you believe those people?! They are actually taking bets!"

"Who is in favour?" 

"It's Dawlish...That's not what is important!" Hermione quickly tried to resume her Prefect role. 

"So the people don't trust Fenton to win?" Asked Harry.

"He is barely older than us, he didn't even study to the end, he doesn't have a wand," she began counting all the downsides. "He may teach well, but it doesn't mean that he will stand the ground." 

"Well... I think I'll bet on him, imagine how high the stakes would be."

"Ronald, you cannot encourage..." 

Harry sighed, his mind turning off their bickering. Honestly, sometimes they were like an old married couple. 

In the meantime, two opponents stood in front of each other. Dumbledore took out his wand and casted a spell. Soon, a dome of bluish light covered the ground around the teacher and the auror. Danny bounced on the balls of his feet like a boxer, his eyes closely watching his rival. 

As per the rules of the duel, after bowing, they went in the opposite directions, before stopping. Then, another, finals signal of Dumbledore, ringing through the deafening excited silence, brought everything into action. 

"Begin!"

"Expulso!" Bellowed Dawlish.

Fenton swiftly avoided the blast of blue light, the shot hitting the barrier. Columbo did not hesitate to continue shooting, while the professor showed an extreme level of agility. He glared at his enemy, who stood still after the barrage. 

"You are to cast your own spells, Fenton." 

Danny shrugged and waved his palm. Everyone could feel a drop in temperature, and balls of ice materialised around the man's head. Swinging his hand, Fenton launched the projectiles right at Dawlish, who avoided the first couple, casted 'protego' to defend against others. Dawlish also noticed that some were aimed at his legs. Seeing the ice spread on the ground after the impact made him realise the goal of his attack. To bind the enemy. Danny did not stop, quickly shortening the distance between them. 

"Stupefy!" Dawlish fired, but to his shock, and to that of everyone around, he only hit air.

"Where is he?" Asked Ron. "Did he just apparate?" 

"You can't do that in Hogwarts," Hermione mumbled, "And with no wand..." 

Dawlish looked around in search of his enemy. "Revelio!" 

Danny felt how his invisibility was ripped out. Oh, how he hated that spell. Dawlish saw him and fired the stunning spell again. Danny was almost hit by a beam of red, but the blast met an obstacle in the form of a green glowing barrier, thin, shimmering under the sun.

"Is this enough?" Danny asked, and an observant member of the audience could notice a glimmer of green in his own eyes. 

"Until out of commission, Fenton. Petrificus Totalus!" 

Danny moved away from his own barrier, too thin against a spell this strong. 

"Attack, Fenton," Dawlish said.

Danny realised that Dawlish was not the one getting easily annoyed. He commanded with the same collectedness that was present before. So, a plan was hatched to throw as much as Danny could in a short amount of time. He summoned more ice orbs, and Dawlish visibly prepared for the attack. It was obvious to him that the examinee was going to comply with the demands of the inspector. It wasn't a conventional fight, after all.

Dumbledore, for how intrigued he was, observed the fight attentively as well. Daniel must have had something else up his sleeve. After all, he was already demonstrating the magic he had never seen before. This time Danny kept the barrage of icicles, which Dawlish easily deflected once more, but Dumbledore noticed green sparks around the young man's fingers. Once the last ball of ice was crushed, Danny flung his hand once more, and the air was filled with loud, cracking noise and nitrogenous smell. The lighting bolt penetrated the shield and hit the inspector dead on. Dawlish let out a brief scream of pain as the streaks of electricity jumped around his body. Danny took the time to launch more ice, and this time it hit him right in the gut and hurled the man several meters backwards. However, Danny also made no attempt to completely finish the opponent off. Figuratively, of course. 

"Blimey," Ron muttered, "What even is this magic? Shouldn't he be hurt as well?"

"I... don't know," mumbled Hermione. 

"It looks more like a comic book than magic," commented Harry. 

"What's a comic..." 

"You are right," Hermione responded. "This is insane. It's not just wandless magic, he never uttered a word to cast them."

Ron huffed, "What, like a house elf? He doesn't look like one." 

"Come on, Columbo!" Fenton called for the inspector, who just got up to his feet. "No need beating around the bush." 

"That's all you got?" Asked Dawlish. 

"No, that lighting could reduce you to ash if I wanted so. Unrestricted power is a dangerous thing, isn't it?" Fenton leaned against a statue near the fountain. "I have plenty of tricks left and I am, admittedly, out of practice."

At this his eyes began to glow again, as he stood right in front of the auror. "Your move." 

Dawlish glared at the insolent boy-professor. "Reducto!" 

The red blast flew right at the almost unmoving man, who raised his palm right in front of the projectile. Despite everyone's expectations, he simply... grabbed it upon the impact. 

He redirected the shot, and it hit the barrier around them, but not without flying right near the auror's face. 

"It can blow someone apart, Columbo. I know we agreed not to hold back, but are you sure?" 

"How in the hell did you do that?!" Dawlish raised his voice. 

"I am simply a very proficient teacher and duelist. Never tried this with the killing curse, but I am obviously not eager to test it."

Columbo and Dumbledore, the latter of whom was equally surprised at the display, both realised what this trick implied. This was a dangerous territory, because the boy had proven to be capable of something totally unexpected. Dumbledore also paid attention to the glow Fenton emanated. He didn't like that colour. The colour of death itself. What was that? A dark practice conceived by the deceptively cheerful boy? He was expelled under this very assumption, and the boy really wasn't making it easier to believe in his innocence. 

"Show me all you've got, Fenton," demanded Dawlish, both loyal to his duty and curious himself, while pointing his wand. 

"You said it, not me," said Danny. 

Suddenly, double beams of green light emerged right from his eyes. Before anyone could even gasp, they flew right at the inspector, who, mistaking it for a certain other spell, instinctively chose to dodge something he deemed impossible to block. The blasts hit the stone column, so unfortunately located within the shield dome, and actually blew it apart. Fenton hissed. 

"Sorry about that, Dumbledore!" 

"Worry not!" The Headmaster called. "But please, I advise that you two refrain from anything destructive!" 

"What say you, Columbo?" 

"Stop calling me that," Dawlish said, "Yes, it may actually end in one of us getting killed." 

Danny wondered if the man's brain began to function only after realising his opponent was not defenceless. 

"Explain this, Fenton."

"Oh, that's your basic focus of spectral energies in the air. Condensed and directed with the help of electricity. The same logic with voltage is applied here. To put it simply, I fire ectoplasm. It's up to your imagination, really," he said, and, to prove his point, fired in the air another weak blast from his fingertip.

He lied, of course. The young man was firing ectoplasm of his own instead of relying on some obscure floating energies. Smart words made him sound competent, sure of what he was saying. And certainly not lying. Danny's palms were engulfed in emerald smoke, and his appearance was growingly unsettling. 

"Want to see more, Columbo?" Fenton asked. "Or is this enough for you?" 

"We'll see. Stupefy!" 

Danny flicked the blast away, another of his own flying back at the auror. Fenton decided to finish it, as he had already shown something impressive enough, covert enough, and something not needing him to die in a metaphorical sense. Dawlish moved away and continued the onslaught. The annoyed professor was greatly annoying his opponent, for every single shot Danny didn't even try to dodge. His reaction time was outstanding. But the auror couldn't avoid the shots forever. At some point, he was bound to get stuck between the reflected spell and that of the half ghost. The ectoblast hit him dead on and launched him far, right into the barrier. Before he could get up, Danny, in a shocking show of speed was right near him, and the ice, the ever-present ice was now holding him captive, cutting of the means of escape. The young man had a grin on his face, as he jumped on one of the less sharp spikes, keeping the balance only god knows how. 

"It seems I win," he said.

Dawlish slowly got up, gripping his wand. Danny pretended not to notice, right until the last moment. 

"Red..." 

With his movements limited, Dawlish couldn't dodge a piece of green sludge. He gagged, his mouth muffled and covered by thick, green goo. And without the mouth, he was basically rendered helpless. 

"Told ya. Do you concede, Dawlish?" 

The auror glared, grunted, but nodded. At that very moment, the ice and the goo vanished into thin air. As the barrier surrounding them vanished, to Danny's ears reached a round of applause. He blinked out of surprise, having paid little attention to the audience their battle had gathered. But nonetheless he smiled and bowed theatrically. 

"Thank you, thank you for your appreciation," the professor said. 

"He didn't even sweat," mumbled Harry, observing multiple reactions from the students around. Of course, they had bet their simple possessions, such as candies or collectible cards.

"His magic really is surreal," Hermione responded. "Do you think it is possible to learn it?" 

"There she goes," Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't we have enough on our plate already? I still have that stupid dream diary to write." 

"I don't think he will share it," grumbled Harry, remembering the man's reluctance to disclose certain things. Then he heard the whispers nearby.

"Did you see his eyes?" One of the girls said to her friend. 

"I did. And it creeps me out."

Whatever the children's initial impression was, it most certainly had changed. For better or worse — that remained to be seen.

What was also obvious, is that the Headmaster had things to discuss with his close friends and accomplices. That very evening he brought the usual group of House Heads together, to discuss the newest professor's exploit. 

"Outstanding, I say," Flitwick remarked. "I had the opportunity to watch the whole fight from my office, Albus, and I say that his skill is remarkable."

"Is it, Filius?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, mischievous smile on his face. "To me it did seem rather... unenthusiastic."

"The boy was indeed sloppy at some places. Childish arrogance is the reason, I believe."

Dumbledore nodded and looked at the others. "Did any of you had the same luck as me and Filius?" 

Minerva shook her head. "Albus, what is your conclusion?"

The Headmaster's look became heavier. "This boy is dabbling in things we have no knowledge of. It is alarming to find someone not only knowledgeable of this art, but obviously proficient at such a young age. These are not some party tricks. We don't know the limits of his resistance to magic. And I have all reasons to suspect Dark Arts are involved in the process." 

"And what do our... 'inspectors' think?" Asked Severus. 

Dumbledore took out the parchment and moved it to the other end of the table, for the professors to examine. 

"Griselda is pleasantly surprised. Daniel never sat through N.E.W.T, much less finished education, and yet he received an "Outstanding", even if barely. With Dawlish beaten so shamelessly, I believe it goes without saying that the boy is here to stay. Dolores agreed with his terms, so there isn't much she can do about it. Daniel is already aware about his results. Needless to say, he was quite... ecstatic about this."

"Don't you find it odd, Albus?" Sprout asked. "Such results are unusual for someone so obviously secluded from the normal education." 

"I do find it strange. And at the same time I am not surprised at all. As I said, Daniel's aptitudes are not something taught at any school I know of. Even Durmstrang knows not of such magic. We knew all along that he has powers beyond those we know of, and he didn't hesitate to demonstrate one of them."

"He said many times that he has experience," Flitwick pointed out. "Is it really that surprising that he knows how to combat dark creatures?" 

"Filius, we all know he can't do normal magic. So 'experience' is not enough of an explanation," responded Minerva before a short period of silence she herself chose to break. "Maybe those rumours about him hold some merit. Could this magic be the reason of his expulsion, nascent it may have been back then?" 

"It is plausible. I can't blame others in Ilvermony of making such claims. It does appear like Dark Arts, no matter how you look at it. We know one thing for certain, however. Daniel is capable of causing serious damage on his own. About what you said, Filius. I personally think that his reason for being sloppy is the unusual format. He could be hesitant to use some abilities of his that he was accustomed to, and thus had to adapt his strategy along the way. His look can burn down a person if he wants. We can't dismiss that fact. Severus."

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I ask that you be cautious if you cooperate with him."

"Certainly. And where is he now?" 

"In Hogsmeade. Daniel said he wanted to celebrate his achievement. Sometimes he does everything to remind us of his age," Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "That will be all. Stay on guard, and not a word about the order with him nearby."

"So, I was cornered. There was a large manticore coming right at me, growling and all. And stinking like all hell."

"What happened then?" 

"I punched it and knocked it out," Danny grinned and gulped from his mug. 

The crowd around him deflated. 

"Is that it?" A shout came. 

"That's a pile of shite!" 

"Are you saying you can knock out a manticore, kid?"

Danny looked around the inn and saw how the people didn't seem to believe a frail-looking young man. He smirked and leaned back in his chair. 

"With one punch," Danny raised a finger. "Believe it or not," he then lifted the mug, "this guy is a certified specialist now. Jeez, life is looking good." 

It was his sixth round of drinks. Since his mind chemistry was significantly altered by ectoplasm, he could indulge in it as much as he wanted without feeling the impact. That worked for many toxins. The Three Broomsticks inn was welcoming that day, or maybe it was simply his jolly mood. The feeling of satisfaction was bubbling inside his heart, pushing away all the rest. His victory over an established auror, as well as his aced test were a testament to the years of his hard work towards bettering his skills and abilities. Had his sister been present, she would probably say that he needn't do anything to prove his worth to anyone. However, this 'anyone' was himself. This was a certain and triumphant return to the wizarding world, stronger than most of their kin that had wronged him. So, Danny had no regrets about taking that job. The only way it could be better if he had beaten his old Headmaster, the presumptuous bastard .

The hour was was late, so the half ghost chose to take his leave now. He said goodbyes to the customers and to the owner, before stepping out into the chilly night street. The noise of the inn was still loud, but somewhat muffled by the walls and doors. Somewhere far away, above the treetops, the towers of Hogwarts could still be seen. The tranquility was soon to break, however.

When a blue mist escaped his mouth. And Danny knew exactly who that was. 

"You couldn't pick a better time even if you tried, Stopwatch."

Danny turned around and saw a figure, hidden under a dark purple cloak. The long beard of his could still be made out, as well as the glowing red eyes, but the rest the cloak his well. The man, the ghost was leaning on a long staff, that had huge clocks embedded into it. Danny couldn't see the expression of the visitor, but he was quite certain that the ever-present, all-knowing smirk was there. 

"Was that a pun, Daniel?" A deep, amused voice came from under the hood.

"Think what you want, you know the answers," the young man rolled his eyes, then noticing something. "You didn't stop time, what gives?" 

"I thought that such measures won't be needed. Nobody will see us in any case. You were going back to the castle." 

"I was. Cut to the chase, old man," asked Danny as they began walking. "What did you come here for?"

"I would like to congratulate you first. You put a good show." 

Danny sighed. Clockwork was never in a hurry, and for a good reason too. All his actions were well-planned for centuries ahead. That came with being a Time Lord. The young man couldn't say that their relationship didn't have any bumps. The ghost tried to kill him when they first met. And for all his power, Clockwork still refused to help when the young man actually needed it. Thus, Danny's bitterness was only going to resurface. 

"Yeah, well, they didn't know what I am and what I can do. Of course I beat him." 

"Playing humble, I see," Clockwork smirked. "We both know what you are capable of." 

"Yeah, worldwide genocide and all. No need to remind me," huffed Danny. "Or what? You wanted me to vaporise him?"

"Certainly not. The consequences of that would be too much. I am asking if what you are doing is fitting for your talents. To your mind." 

"Don't make me doubt it now. I just gained confidence," grumbled the half ghost, "It fits my specialty, I guess."

"And that is..."

"You know the answer. Beating the crap out of everything dangerous. Teaching how to do it is not all that different."

"Not the way I would summarise it, but it gets the message across."

"I think I know where this conversation is going." 

"Do you?" Asked Clockwork, the same smirk on his face. 

"You want me to beat someone."

"Had I not been all-knowing, I would have suggested just that. You have caught the attention of some dangerous individuals, Daniel."

"And you came here to state something even I know? I destroyed a Horcrux. These things are made by professionals, not students." 

"This one was made by a student," Clockwork said enigmatically. "Although he has long since graduated. You don't seem concerned about the existence of these artefacts. They are a defilement of the laws of nature, after all."

"I am a defilement myself," Responded the young man, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Name one human who can outlive all around for millennia to come."

"You aren't entirely human."

"I am not completely a ghost. And it will remain this way," a firm response followed. 

"Even if your attitude towards Horcruxes is more lenient than that of ghosts, you do understand that they cannot be allowed to exist."

"So that's what this is about. I am not going around chasing them, my heroics are over and you know why."

"Cliché much?" 

Danny blinked and stared at the old man. "Please, don't talk like that. You will be the death of me that way." 

"My point still stands. Surely the slayer of Pariah and his only heir can accomplish such a menial task."

"Don't," Danny pointed a finger at him. "I want nothing to do with that."

"Yet you are persistent with your attempts at building the portal. You want to get to the Zone and have asked me to take you there multiple times."

"It is you who refused!" Snapped the half ghost. "Now I can't even go, because there are students I need to teach. You know what, that's quite important, because I also don't have the time to search for those trinkets. I destroyed one, this should be enough," he increased the pace and left the ghost behind.

"Voldemort has four more, Daniel," Called Clockwork, making Danny freeze on his spot.

"Four?!" Danny asked incredulously, turning around.

"Well, there are seven in total. Three have been destroyed, yours included. Now I hope you understand the gravity of what is happening."

"He is more of a frootloop than I thought. Go handle it yourself. You are the great equaliser here. You were allowed to kill me, weren't you?"

"I was, and yet I didn't, so you may help the world instead of destroying it."

"I help it now. In my small ways."

"Your powers are far too great to do small things. You have the ability to bring changes yet unseen. Both good and vile. Eventually you will come to understand that a change is needed. Why do you think I came today? Today you realised that even the most proficient wizards are of little match even for your human form."

"For someone not allowed to interfere, you speak awfully lot."

"Have you wondered what exactly am I allowed to do?" Smiled Clockwork. "I believe that guiding you is my task as much as everything else." 

It was true that during the last five years the Time Master was the only figure close to parental that Danny had had. Not that the teen and then the adult cared much for it, because until this conversation Clockwork was quite detached from the boy's affairs. Hence, not much love was there to give.

"What do you actually want?" Asked Danny in exasperation.

"For you to be the better version of yourself. And if you help change the society in the process, who am I to complain? I know that such thoughts appeared in your mind, as well as an understanding of why Voldemort even came to be and why he won't be the last."

"Nice pep-talk," mumbled Danny. "I am deciding what to do with my life, Clockwork. Isn't this what you told me back then? That the decision is always mine to make?" 

"That's true. But it doesn't mean I won't give my advice to you. Just like on that tragic day." 

"What's going to happen, Stopwatch? You always do this before something goes down." 

"Nothing in particular. I'll tell you what I can. Voldemort is interested in you, and Dumbledore suspects that you are the former's servant. This means that you, in the nearest future, cannot rely on the Headmaster, but you know it already. Remember this Daniel," Clockwork raised his staff, about to hit its head. "You are the Prince of Ghosts. So don't be afraid to act like it. TIME OUT!" 

He bellowed and hit a small button. In less than a blink, the Time Master vanished, leaving his reluctant protégé alone to wander. Sighing, Danny ran a hand through his hair.

"Prince of Ghosts. I am broke as shit," he muttered angrily and went towards the castle. 

But perhaps, some other words of the ancient ghost had much more merit, Danny thought as he went towards the castle.

"Alright, alright, settle down everyone!" Called Fenton as he assumed his place in front of the class. "Due to Miss Umbridge's underperformance we will need to pick up the speed if we want to make it in time for the exams."

He then saw the raised hand of the most active student he had seen so far. 

"Yes, Miss Granger?" 

"Professor, are you going to continue teaching?" 

Danny's bright smile was an answer enough, but he still decided to indulge both her and everyone else.

"Certainly I am. So worry not, until the end of the year you are all stuck with me. And before any of you asks. No. I am not teaching what some of you saw yesterday," he answered preemptively. "It will just kill or maim you and I am not paying the insurance. If we are done, let's move to the topic of today." 

Danny fished in his desk, before tossing his finding on the table. To the shock of many, it was a severed hand, made out of shiny metal that resembled silver. 

"Who can tell me what this is?" The professor asked. 

He saw no raised hands at first, as he had expected. But then, Harry Potter was the one willing to answer. Reluctant he may have appeared.

"Oh, Mr. Potter?" 

"Yes, it's... an artificial silver hand... a person can create it with Dark magic as a prosthetic." 

"Why, that's correct. Five points to Gryffindor. Speaking from experience?" He asked.

Harry nodded. "I saw it before," the boy answered, causing some usual whispers to erupt. "But professor, where did you get this one?" 

Fenton smirked. "I will get to it. This one is a dangerous artefact, although there have been arguments on whether or not to consider the silver hand as such. While uncommon, it is still a valid tool to some Dark Wizards. Why would they opt to cut off their hands and replace them? Well, it comes with certain benefits." 

He picked it up and demonstratively pulled on its unmoving joints. And then he drummed on it, getting a metallic ring.

"It is quite hardy, that's first. Punch someone with this piece of solid metal and it is a guaranteed knockout. If they grab your neck, you won't escape that grip on your own. So, if you encounter people with this prosthetic, keep your distance." 

Danny noticed that the kids were more willing to write down what he said. He had several explanations to that, but chose to ignore it.

"Secondly, and I think it is the most important thing, they have the ability to deflect certain spells. If you hit the enemy with Expelliarmus, this hand will still hold the wand. This also applies to other minor spells, and know this: you cannot disarm this person. Unless you pick a more literal approach," he put it back on the table. Loudly. "And cut it off. That's the answer to your question, Mr. Potter. I had a run-in with a Dark Wizard, I beat him, turned him in and left myself a souvenir. For the note, this silver is fake and the magic evaporates after the death of its owner. Thus, it is utterly worthless."

"Then why did you keep it?" 

"I was honestly about to throw it out. But since it makes an excellent study material, I decided to wait."

Some people would have dismissed it as an outlandish story. But the way he fought against an auror clearly showed that the professor could fight and fight well.

"Some other charms can be applied to it. The most common I've observed is the one some among their flock ignore. Never let someone else make a hand for you, because they may just charm it to kill the owner if they do or say something the creator doesn't like. That's how Grindewald too made his followers keep quiet."

"Sir..."

"Yes?"

"How did you encounter all these dangers? You are not much older than us." 

Danny chuckled quietly. "I just tried to do a good thing. MACUSA is lacking in numbers, they have such an enormous territory to keep in order. So, you will be surprised at how many criminals and rampant beasts there are. The Indians learned to ward themselves, but most wizards live in the big cities. Thus, my home wasn't exactly safe. My magic was not a violation of the statute, nor the decrees about underage magic, there actually are a couple of loopholes in the law, and it cannot be tracked. Besides, some threats I beat with my hands. In the end I just grew sick of it, and MACUSA finally decided to bring some semblance of order. So I moved here, and eventually found myself in Hogwarts. That's pretty much it. I'd love to sit here and tell you about it, but we have a lesson."

He coughed. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the silver hand is but one of many dark artefacts that exist in this world. There exist certain procedures on what to do when you encounter them. And how you understand that such encounter is taking place. Dark artefacts are divided into two categories: those that are created as such, like the one you see here, or the seemingly normal things, like jewellery or statuettes that became the vials for Dark magic. Both are equally dangerous in their own ways. The latter are more discreet and can curse you if you aren't attentive enough. Gringotts, as you know, has certain professionals whose job it is to alleviate curses from the artefacts they find. The standards set by Ministries are universal across the wizarding world. Always verify if the locket you buy was checked by the professional, don't take the seller's word for it. And, obviously, don't buy anything from Nockturn alley. Apart from selling a deathtrap they would also scam you." 

Danny began pacing around the classroom. "The simple spell of Finite can get rid of jinxes, certainly, but death curses are indeed a threat that annually takes lives of many. But the fact that you can't remove the curse doesn't mean that you cannot detect it..." 

After about an hour, the lesson was over, a welcomed change from the torturous lesson yesterday. At least from what the students heard. Danny answered a couple of questions related to homework, allowed to bring in the previous one the following day, but then Hermione came the last, looking a bit hesitant.

"Well, Ms. Granger, you wanted something?" He asked.

"Yes," she responded as the last people were leaving. "I wanted to ask something of you, Professor." 

Danny blinked. "Eh... sure." 

Then she put a blue badge on the table. The word SPEW on it was written with white letters. 

"What is this?" 

"Sir, I have heard and seen that you are very strongly against the prejudice some people have towards magical creatures and half-breeds, so I wanted to ask if you would like to join my campaign."

"Which you called SPEW," deadpanned Danny.

"It stands for "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare"."

"Elfish?" Danny raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, surely you have to understand the horrid conditions they endure daily."

"I know that," Danny picked up the badge.

Clockwork. Of course he would have come just before something appeared to also nudge the young man in the needed direction. 

"How many members do you have?" 

"Oh, well... with you it would be six people."

"That isn't much," the young man commented. "What do you even want to do? Free the elves?" 

"Yes, that's what our goal is. Everyone keeps saying that they don't need it, but..."

"They don't want it, sure. But they do need it. It just comes down to the means and explanation," Danny smiled, and saw the brighter expression of the girl. He then sighed. "Very well, I'll join." 

"That would be two sickles, sir." 

The man stared at her. "With all due respect, Granger, you aren't in a position to ask for fees. Not to mention that I am always broke." 

The girl deflated. "I need it for the activities of the group."

"Which would make whole ten sickles. Don't worry, we will fix it. I have an experience."

"You do?" The girl asked in surprise. 

"Well, I saw someone quite like you do exactly same things but better," the professor smiled sadly. "I'll leave the badge, though." 

"Thank you, Professor. Where do we start?" 

"Patience, young padawan," Danny said sagely. "All in due time." 

"Did you just quote Star Wars?" 

"That I did, kiddo."

Chapter Text

A.N. I’ve been seeing many comments about this, and I know you guys are anxious for Ember to make an appearance. Just a couple more chapters, folks.

"At last, we can begin our experimental shenanigans," Danny grinned from ear to ear, his words mixing with the sounds of bubbling water. 

Snape wasn't as enthusiastic as his colleague. The young man's optimism was contagious, but the Potions professor had long since built up an immunity towards everything positive. However, too focused on how pestering Daniel was, he didn't notice probably the biggest thing — Fenton knew everything about what the professor was intending to achieve here. It was always a good distraction, Danny had come to notice long ago. There was also nothing harmful in letting Snape assist in the research. And after it was over, Danny's opportunities would simply be endless. The ends justified all means of attaining them. 

"You've read my journals, right?" 

"I did," mumbled Severus. "To me it appeared like you are too wasteful."

Danny winced. "Did it?" 

"Indeed. I will not have you destroy all our stocks. Especially since you don't pay for them," Snape scolded him like a student, earning himself a nervous chuckle. "You are aware of general research process. However, potion-making is a fine art, and it has a lot of nuances you omit due to your obliviousness." 

"That's why you are here," Danny shrugged. "Where do you think we should start?" 

"Several substances have similar properties to ectoplasm. You neglect the importance of the directions you mix, which is a mistake of the first-year student." 

"I spent only four years there," Danny mumbled mostly to himself. 

"I said 'first year', Fenton. Go fetch the agrippa, I'll prepare the cauldron."

Danny nodded and approached one of the shelves, arranged in alphabetical order. As he did so, he kept the conversation going.

"Say, Severus. How long have you been around here?" 

"Since 1981."

Danny blinked and looked at the greasy man. "How old are you?" 

"It's thirty four. I know what you are about to insinuate."

"I am not going to insinuate. I will say it bluntly: you were twenty one when you started! I'm just one year younger."

"The circumstances were different back then."

"It wasn't the Dark Age, you weren't about to kick the bucket the next day." 

"I said: circumstances were different, Fenton, go back to searching."

Danny grumbled quietly, fishing out a small vial with the word "agrippa" written on a glued slip of paper. "Understand my accusations, Severus. You appear hypocritical. I know my onions as much as you do yours. I even have the experience to boot, as I won't stop reminding you guys."

Snape took the vial, and poured some of its contents in the cauldron. Danny then hummed. 

"We should probably add a bit of dittany. And water."

Severus was about to dismiss the remark, but then realised that the criticism held some merit to it. 

"A pinch and a full measuring glass." 

Danny moved his finger a bit and the glass flew right under the opened tap. In the meantime, as Snape was setting the heat, Fenton went back to checking the shelves, so abundant in that classroom. 

"So, I simply can't understand why you were so adamant about not letting me teach." 

Snape sighed internally. Fenton obviously was not about to drop the subject. 

"The Headmaster knew me. And he knew about my talents. You were an unknown, Fenton. A random vagabond, whose true skills we could not ascertain."

"Then you should have put more accent on that. Perhaps we could have avoided having to sit an exam halfway into the first month. Still, I proved myself, didn't I?"

"You are adequate enough to fill the role for a year."

Danny rolled his eyes, letting the glass fly near the cauldron, slowly pouring the water inside. Then, after a twirl of the mixing spoon, the young man added dittany. Snape noticed that Danny's journal was also floating nearby, and a muggle ball pen was scribbling there. 

"What?" Asked Fenton, noticing the glance, "Quills are too messy to keep journals." 

"This is a strange level of levitation." 

Both knew where the conversation had arrived awfully quickly. The personal matters. 

"I honestly had a hard time learning that. It also takes enormous concentration. And since I write, I have to clearly imagine the letters." 

"I don't imagine you had a mentor."

"Well yeah," Danny shrugged, "I am self-taught. It's not the stuff they show you at Ilvermony. That's why they were such pricks about it," he muttered, glancing at the concoction. "What about you, though? You must have been really exceptional if Dumbledore let you teach. Despite the impression you leave." 

A glare was thrown Danny's way, and the young man grew apprehensive. "What? I am not the one calling you a greasy bat. At the moment, at least. And it is not out of sympathy the students call you this."

"Oh, so you don't harbour any as well. Perhaps I should leave?" 

"I respect you and your skills, while I may not show it. Besides, you won't leave and waste the ingredients just like this. I know you well enough to understand this part." 

Snape hummed, mixing the concoction. 

"You haven't answered." 

"In my school years I have created several potent potions from scratch. All my grades were also exceptional, which cannot be said about you." 

"Was the last part necessary?" Danny whined. "Cannot say I relate... so, were you popular back then?" 

"How does one thought of yours correlate with another?"

"I'd say it is a stereotype that smartness and popularity in school don't relate. It comes down to being able to interact with others." 

"No, as a matter of fact I was not "popular". I don't want to be distracted by such childish topics."

"They aren't childish. Things such as these leave a lasting impact. My former bully is currently working as a loader. Had to save him from a poltergeist obsessed with boxes, and I was honestly shocked to see him there of all places. Still, he is clinging to our shared past, as he was unable to even thank me. Those years were his prime, realising that the only way for you to go is down is quite depressing. It works the other way, too. Some sad things cling to you as well. Luckily, all those memories, too good and too bad, won't bother you if you just let go. I did just that. What happened before isn't really important. I am an adult and I make my own life."

Snape remained quiet, which Danny mistakenly took as a permission to go on. 

"I am good at reading people, Severus. Obviously something burdens YOU."

Severus was now actually concerned if the boy was strong enough in Legilimency. No, he would have felt it if the boy was trying to get inside his head. 

"This doesn't concern you. Stop your attempts at appearing adult."

Perhaps, he was appearing too rude. For a moment Severus was concerned that eventually Fenton was going to stop shaking off everything the Potions professor said. On the other hand, being accommodating at this point was just as ruinous for the cover. 

"I am an adult, how many times do I have to tell you?" Asked Danny. "Is the potion supposed to be this colour?" 

Snape noticed that the concoction assumed the colour of vomit. "Yes...It is also the basis for the Draught of living death. Colour is the most solid indicator of the potion's condition. For each stage it is specific," Snape lectured. "I believe we should add ectoplasm now." 

Rome was not built in a day, they say. And neither was the active ectoplasm created. The researchers tried several ways of reaching the desired effect, but none was successful. Several hours passed in vain attempts at recreating the elder Fentons' achievement, as well as building a sympathetic conversation. Danny was honestly frustrated at how unapproachable Snape was. Wasn't that guy supposed to spy on him? Apparently, opening up for Snape was a humongous price he wasn't willing to pay. Danny did thus discover a pressure point, but pressing it would alienate the professor in an instant, the young man was certain of it. Perhaps he should have called out the vain attempts at fishing information out of him. But that would also leave Snape with no incentive to continue the research. With such considerations in mind, Danny eventually left the professor to do his own things, a notebook with new additions in his hand. He would have to reconsider some concepts of his, as his mind was flooded with new ideas. 

The next day was bound to be interesting. True to his idea of aiding S.P.E.W. in its goals, Danny asked Hermione to bring the members of this organisation to the yard on Saturday morning, without specifying the time. Perhaps that was a mistake, because the ever-diligent girl chose to arrange everything quite early. Thankfully, years of sleepless nights caused Danny to sleep only for a couple of hours and still remain fresh. Which honestly could not be said about the people Hermione brought along. It wasn't surprising for Danny to see sleepy Potter or disgruntled Weasley. Or sad Longbottom. This group really was lacking members, it appeared.

"Professor Fenton?" Asked Harry and yawned. "What are you doing here?" 

Danny smiled. "Good morning, kids. I am actually the newest member of the..." He fished out a badge out of his pants. "SPEW. Granger, that's one silly name."

"Don't tell me she got you into this," Ron moaned. 

"She got you, though," commented Danny with confusion, looking at the sheepish founder. "Well, anyways. If we are here, then we probably share some thoughts about the current state of wizarding society." 

Ron seemed hesitant to answer, while Harry looked curious. Not as much as in the activity, but rather the teacher. He was honestly intrigued by what Fenton was like. 

"Elves in particular."

"This again?" Ron moaned and rubbed his eyes. "Professor, don't tell me you believe the same thing she does?" 

Danny raised an eyebrow, as they all sat on the grass. 

"So you don't think we should do something about the elves?"

"They aren't bothered by their job, professor Fenton. Why should we give them something they don't want?" 

Phantom hummed. Apparently, Weasley was in it only because his friends were here. Be it the desire not to be a white raven or the wish to stop Hermione from nagging him, he did not know. Fenton's attention was turned to Harry.

"And you, Harry? Neville?"

"I am not sure..." began Harry. "I mean, Ron and Neville have been living with knowledge of elves." 

"I think Hermione's grades are better than theirs. No offence. And I too am a muggleborn."

"None taken, sir," Ron yawned, still disinterested. "Why are YOU so adamant about this?" 

"Recently I've had a discussion with one man who knows me too well. He told me to take more active part in what is happening around. Admittedly, I do have my critique of how this world functions. And what I would like to change, starting with elves, yes. Because the weakest deserve help more than others."

"They never say they want it. In fact, because Hermione took to liberating them, the elves stopped cleaning our dorms. Because she apparently insulted them." 

Danny broke into laughter, only then noticing Hermione's red face. Whether it was embarrassment or anger with Ron, he didn't care. 

"That's one way of going about it. A very crude, but well-intended way. Hermione, you shouldn't force anything on anybody. Even freedom. Because to some extent you are right, Ron. They do not want it now. We should let them make choice, unlike Hermione. That's why I think that the first step would be to campaign for paying them wages. Hogwarts would be a good start."

"Are you sure it is wise? Wouldn't they just... spend them on something excessive?"

"Yeah, bet Winky would spend everything on booze." 

"Ron," Danny's voice turned accusatory. "She has a crippling depression. Because her only life goal has been ripped away from her."

"You have met her, sir?" Hermione asked. 

"Yes. I took visits to the kitchen quite often back in summer. Still do. If only she listened, it's hard not to catch her drunk. I still think that the elves should have money. This alone will help a lot, but that's up for debates. Think about it. Would a person who invested so much money into an elf mount their head on the wall? It will at least make them think twice before harming their servants. Money do not automatically liberate elves, so it's a good compromise for now." 

"I don't think it is a good time for that, professor," Harry scratched his chin. "The Ministry is not going to give anything. Especially for something like this." 

Danny pointed a finger at him. "That's precisely why we are doing it now. The wizarding world is a bigoted and an unjust one. These customs and neglect are the main reason each half a century people have to deal with another dark lord. First it's the refusal of rights to the elves, then goblins, recently they forbade the werewolves from getting normal jobs. Try to guess who those desperate people are going to join. The Ministry is a self-destructive mess that keeps making everything worse. It's not the problem of Fudge or Dolores. It's the problem with public outlook. Ron is a testament to that. He means nothing ill, but some things simply don't appear to him as such."

Everyone stared at the professor's small rant that even made him get up and pace around. Everyone suspected the pent-up frustrations to be the cause.

"What's the difference between Voldemort and the people in charge now? They don't wear creepy masks for one. And how long will it take for them to consider us muggleborns as someone on the level of magical creatures? If Voldemort was to come in charge tomorrow, few things would change. It's not about him, he is not the cause, he is the result." 

"You are really... riled up, sir." 

"Is it that visible?" Danny huffed. "Sorry, guys. I don't want to pull you into anything deeper than the elves. We'll work with what we can, if you are willing." 

"But what would you have us do? We have exams and tons of homework."

"Yeah, I am at fault here, too," Danny winced just a bit. "I'll make the brochures we'll be distributing. With all my living needs catered for, I can afford those. I hope you can remember what's in there and sway the doubtful. We will omit the ministry part, though. We are not revolutionaries. I will also add a couple of house points for activity outside of classes," he added to sway even the most doubtful. 

After looking at each other, the teens shrugged. Perhaps he didn't convince Ron, but he could see that Harry was thinking heavily about this. The boy in turn thought that this was a chance to get to know the new professor more. Danny never hid his distaste for how things were run around there, which was a huge plus in the boy's eyes. And his words really got him thinking. He glanced at Neville, who by then had fallen asleep again on the grass. He would need some extra convincing, too, but, admittedly, with his lack of solid backbone it wasn't going to be hard. 

Danny sighed, letting the kids go for breakfast. He could see that Hermione took a liking to him because of his enthusiasm. He didn't have any illusions that the Ministry was going to do anything positive. He really got himself winded up with those tirades. The conversation reminded Phantom that he could do more than simple petitioning, just like Clockwork had said. Unlike the kids he was more powerful than any wizard in his wake. The young professor once again told himself that he was only going to bring more troubles upon his head. It really was a cliché struggle. A retired hero who didn't want to be one anymore. In any case, he was making others' lives better without sabotaging his secret identity, a boon to be sure.

The following weekend was largely spent in preparation. With plenty of free time Danny managed to make several brochures and posters. Or, rather, ask a master in Hogsmeade to make some. The content of said brochures and posters earned several raised eyebrows, but Fenton remained convinced that what he was doing was right. Danny even tried to spread the message to the locals, off-handedly, of course. Being too pushy was going to push people in only one direction — away. Sadly, it also brought little result. The wizards really saw nothing bad about slavery, and it was, admittedly, disheartening. Perhaps, it would work better with teenagers — by definition a category more inclined to bringing change, whether good or bad.

The posters were small, about the size of those widely utilised in Hogwarts for making announcements. If such posters were pinned in every common room, it would do a good service in making their intentions known. One of them held two images, separated by a white line, of a child and a house elf, both wearing rags, wiping the floor while looking malnourished. "THE THIN BORDERLINE" the poster said. The child was there on purpose, to make the message resonate. Another poster was directed at making people more accepting of the idea that magical beings were all equal, with equal rights and responsibilities. The approach was very careful this time, because unlike elves, the "beings" category was less concrete. Vampires, hags, giants — they could be very harmful. So it wasn't much of acceptance matter, more like to not be prejudiced. Werewolves, on the other hand, were normal people most of their lives. And this matter, stated in brochures, was very critical and solid. Everything Danny told the original members found its place on those small pages. The Ministry was forcing them to walk a very dangerous and malicious path. And while remaining critical of those actions, the language that was utilised was quite reserved and pragmatic. They consciously put the wizards at danger, creating a whole group of people that was hostile. Right out of thin air.

Hermione, having done all the homework at an instant, was eager to spend her weekend assisting him in propagating their goals. She put the posters in her dorm, calling for the people to join the recently reformed "M.A.N.A." Better than "S.P.E.W." "Mutual Assistance against Non-Acceptance"  sounded more respectable, not like a purposeful caricature. The newly minted badges with the new name were distributed with no extra charge. The girl was full of the newly-found enthusiasm. However, with her was associated some unpleasant experience, so she probably was not the best candidate for the job. After having pestered everyone, she needed to change approach. Danny, who hadn't missed the fact that she forced her friends into this, instructed her on what she should and should not do. 

On Sunday morning Hermione went to join the professor near the Main Hall. There she saw Fenton conversing with a small group of Hufflepuff students. Since they had badges in their hands, she could only assume that he got them hooked. It made the girl feel slightly offended that he accomplished in a couple of days more than she had done in the last two years. But she was glad that the man sympathised with her ideas. Maybe it was the authority of the teacher that gave some sort of credibility to the group. After all, all proper clubs had their curators among the staff. Hermione blinked and shook her head, and, as she approached Fenton, the other students left, carrying some brochures and posters with them. Danny saw the girl and beamed. 

"Good morning, Hermione. Glad you made it. I just had a nice talk with the badgers here." 

"I'm... honestly impressed, sir."

Danny flushed a bit. "That's nothing big, really. Badgers are our main allies in all this. Being compassionate is their main shtick." 

Hermione chuckled lightly. "I guess you are right. You wanted to see me?" 

"Yep. If we want our campaign to succeed, we need to get those we campaign for on our side." 

The girl froze. "And you... wanted to bring me along?" 

"Got that right, kiddo," Danny smirked, "I know that what you did antagonised them. That's why you should come along. If you apologise, we can begin anew and move forward." 

Hermione nodded slowly. "If you say so. I... probably should have asked them first." 

"Well, trading is one of the steps to acceptance," Huffed Fenton and outstretched his hand to her. "Wanna see a trick?" 

Confused, the girl took it, and several seconds later she was startled by the fact that they were in fact sinking through the floor. 

"Calm down. It's all in order," he said, before she went completely under the floor. 

Softly they landed on the ground right under, and her eyes went wide in wonder. 

"How did you do that?" She asked. 

Danny kept smirking as he approached one of the food-themed pictures on the walls. "Trade secret, Hermione. Can't have you kids running through the walls. And no, your responsibility is not enough to convince me." 

He tickled a pear on a painting of a bowl with food. The pear then giggled and turned into a large green door handle. Danny pressed on it, and the entrance was before them. He went in first.

Inside the kitchen Danny threw occasional greetings, calling most of the elves by names. Although he did mistake a couple. 

"Greetings, Mr.Fenton!" Many of them called back. Those who did not were too preoccupied with cooking or cleaning the dishes. 

"Good day to you, folks."

"Did you need anything, sir?" Asked a short, plump elf.

"Yes, Pitts, several things. I actually brought someone."

Danny gestured towards the entrance, and the shy Hermione received some unkind glances. Not hostile, as they were incapable of being this way towards students, but there wasn't much sympathy in there. 

"Uhm... Good morning," she began.

"That's the girl who kept giving clothes away," one of the elves whispered. 

"What is she here for?" Asked another. 

"I... I wanted to apologise."

Hermione may not have held that idea when she woke up that day, but she understood the need when Danny pointed it out. She may not have completely thought that what she did was wrong, but it was probably for the better. She would have to trust the young professor on that. Fenton in the meantime reached for an apple and began munching on it with the permission of the one preparing that fruit bowl. 

"I learned that what I did was insulting to many of you. I should have thought more about the implications and what those clothes must have meant for you. I didn't mean anything bad, so I ask for your forgiveness. And if you accept those socks and hats as a simple gratitude, I would be glad, too. But that's for you to decide!" She quickly corrected herself. Which, admittedly, wasn't that noticeable in the end of her general rambling.

There were some mumbles among the elves. After some consideration, one of them stepped forward. 

"We accept your apology, Gryffindor girl," he said, smiling lightly. "But Grimpy suspects that the professor told you about this."

"Guilty as charged," Danny shrugged. "We all need a nudge in the right direction. The apology was her own volition, though." 

"Sir, can Pitts ask a question?" 

"Go ahead, pal."

"What is this badge?" He pointed his finger at the green badge on Danny's shirt.

"Oh, that's actually another thing I was meaning to discuss. Basically, I think that Hermione's idea was not a malicious one. But she didn't take your interests in mind, and that's her mistake she has just apologised for." 

"But sir, we already told everyone that everything is good. We don't need anything," the house elf tried to be polite, although he was obviously displeased with the direction of this conversation. 

Danny sighed. "YOU may be satisfied. And that is true, after all, you have jobs you love, your master is a kind and understanding man. Am I right?" 

The elves looked at each other, and Danny received several nods. 

"But that's not the case for everyone. How many of your people have to suffer and endure? Look at poor Winky, at fortunate Dobby. They may not be the exemplary cases for your people, anomalies, even. But ask yourself simple questions. What is better? When your master beats you up or when they don't?"

"Sir, we need to go back to work."

An excuse to dismiss him. That much was obvious. Danny needed to simplify things as much as possible to coincide with the elven outlook on the world.

"Look, you guys cannot deny that being hurt is something nobody wants. That's what me, Hermione and other students want. Pitts, admit this, pally. You were happy when your old master sold you to Hogwarts. Because he used to beat you up. You started eating a lot here because he used to force you to starve for weeks. Don't you want others to be as happy as you were?" 

The named elf lowered the fruit he was just about to eat. 

"But sir... we are just elves." 

Danny sat on the knee and lowered himself to his eye level.

"You are not "just elves". You are your own beings, who can be hurt, who will hurt themselves as a form of punishment because you are so responsible and loyal. Not every human can claim that they are the same way. I repeat my question, don't you want other elves to be properly taken care of just like they care for their masters? I don't ask you to revolt, Ancients forbid. You are content, and that is enough, it means that we don't need to change anything here. But there is a larger world out there. And I ask you, do you want what I offer to your fellow elves? So that they all have a master that cares for them?"

There was a strange silence in the air. Danny and Hermione were growing worried that the elves were going to disagree. Pitts was the one to respond.

"Pitts wants other elves to be happy, too. Pitts knows Dobby thinks so, too."

Danny grinned. "That alone is enough, everyone. The desire to make things better. Knowing that this is what you want, too, we will try to make such thing true. With your support. Well, I won't be interrupting you from your work. By the way, Krafty! That cheesecake you made yesterday was amazing!" 

Hermione could see the named house elf glowing with joy. It was that simple to get on their good side, apparently. And even that she did miss, which made her feel embarrassed. She was too on the nose. She was quiet as they left the kitchen, and then she noticed the enthusiasm and glee on the professor's face. Hermione couldn't help but make her final conclusion about the compassion Fenton could show. And unlike her she had the strength and... experience. And that made her wonder even more, so much in fact, that she voiced her confusion.

"Well," Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I used to have a friend back at school," he chuckled. "She campaigned for making the food there completely meat-free. She did enlist me, too. Sam had a way of bringing people into her endeavours. That's where I learned the basics of this stuff."

"So... did you succeed?"

"Nope. There was a poltergeist that got very angry with that idea. So we had to scrap it," laughed Danny and put hands in his pockets. 

Although... Hermione could see that he wasn't happy talking about that girl. Come to think of it, he didn't appear to interact with many people. Did his false conviction and expulsion cause a rift between them? Hermione decided to change the topic. 

"What's our next step, sir?" 

Danny smirked again. "You are the leader of this group, are you not?"

Her eyes widened. "But...Wait, I thought that you are the leader now. You did all of this."

"That was just a suggestion you agreed with," Fenton shrugged. "I am here only for a year." 

Although that thought created a whole new concept within the young man's mind. About the fight for equal rights at the scale much larger. The magical beings needed someone powerful enough to stand up for them. Here, Dumbledore was a strong-enough backing. Out in the world there was the need of something much larger than a Headmaster and a... Supreme Mugwump. Whatever that was. 

"Well... I am not sure what we should do next. I suppose we could just continue giving away the brochures and bringing new members." 

"Sound enough," responded Danny.

-Linebreak-

That was bound to happen, Danny guessed. Nothing escaped the watchful eye of the High Inquisitor. 

"I can tolerate many things, Mr. Fenton..."

"Professor Fenton, Dolores," Danny leaned back in his chair and sipped on his tea. 

Dumbledore in the meantime was growing immensely tired with those two. Well, as long as Dolores was too busy pestering Fenton, she would not pay attention to the truly important things. 

"And so far you have thrown a tantrum about each my breath." 

"Political campaigning must not be allowed within the school, Fenton!" The cardigan-wearing inquisitor raised her voice. 

"I don't recall you having a post here. I assure you, Dolores. Our intentions are peaceful, we simply want greater rights for magical beings, is all." 

"Preposterous! I know that this is all a ploy to harass the Ministry!"

"Hm, and why so? Maybe because you are a part of the problem?" Danny kept calmly drinking his tea. "I remind you that M.A.N.A. was founded one year ago. I am just enthusiastic, so I proposed a little rebranding. Because circumstances have changed, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that you, Dolores, really want chaos in this land."

"The claims you are making..." She was gaining the colour of her clothes. 

"You are the one who blocked werewolves from getting jobs. Joblessness is the first step towards radicalism. Dolores, do you really not realise that what you are doing is only creating more problems? Are you just that incompetent?"

"I have graduated! Unlike you, brat," she hissed. 

"Professor Dumbledore," Danny turned towards the Headmaster. "You have to agree that Voldemort is the one they will turn to." 

The face of the inquisitor contorted quite comically at this dismissal. 

"That is sadly true."

Dumbledore had to admit. He did enjoy this quite a bit. 

"This is rubbish. The Dark Lord has NOT come back from the dead. Werewolves are a danger to all proper humans no matter what you do. In fact, one of your predecessors was one." 

"True. And he was very good at his job. The students' grades show this well. They know the material from two years ago better than anything. And they don't remember a single thing you taught them. Now poor Lupin is probably begging on the street because of you," Danny sighed, and Dumbledore noticed a clenched fist the young man was trying to hide. "I will be brief, Dolores. You are bigoted, short-sighted, and incompetent. At least try to pretend that you are keeping order. Don't antagonise whole groups of people and make them ready to revolt. I know you will relay this to your boss, so I'm trying to make our job easier."

"If you think that I will go back on what has been done just because a couple of students organised near a delusional teacher, you are mistaken, Fenton."

"Common sense is on my side. That's quite enough. It would be a shame if our group expanded outside of this school in a couple of days, right?" 

Dumbledore could see it in that boy's smile and look. The wickedness and glee worthy of Tom. Just what was he planning?

Chapter Text

"So, kids, who can tell me what this thing is? Mr. Thomas?" 

"A...cloak?" 

Danny chuckled, looking at the main exhibit of the current lesson. It was a bizarre sight, where there was a coat rack with a purple cloak hanging from it. The most bizarre thing about the subject was the glass case around it. 

"To some extent. But don't be deceived by appearances, as I won't stop telling you. How about we agitate this fella?" 

The professor picked up a piece of jerky from the table. Opening a small hatch in the glass case, he tossed a piece of meat inside. Immediately from under the cloak emerged a tentacle, snatched it, and then the cloak returned to its original form, as if nothing had happened. 

"This is a Lethifold. On the list of dangerous, dark creatures, these ones occupy the top ranks. Usually they are dormant during the day, but the smell of food always makes them agitated. If I opened the case it would have attacked everyone present at once. Who knows how many tentacles this bugger has. Let us list the things which make Lethifolds so dangerous."

As he said this, the floating chalk got to work. 

"First of all, it is their mimicry. You can find one of those lying near your house and think nothing of it. It can also pretend to be a piece of clothing until your guard is down. If you put it on, then you are automatically a goner. It will rip you apart and have a neat lunch. When they have eaten, it would appear that this floating cloak actually has someone under it. There is a slim chance that it won't attack at such time, having satiated its hunger."

Danny noticed how uncomfortable some students appeared.

"I'm not telling you to be afraid of your own coat hanger. These are relatively rare and they live only in tropics. This one has been generously donated to me by one of my associates. Skulker may be pretty helpful if enticed properly," he muttered, "This one will be dealt with after we are done. Still, few people survive the encounter, because of several reasons. First, Lethifolds usually attack when their victim is asleep. Second, a victim is a muggle, and three, because they are immune to most spells. Actually, to every spell except one. And patronus isn't what your average Joe can produce, either."

At this Harry perked up. So he got a chance at dealing with the creature.

"It's possible that the Lethifold is related to the Dementor, what's with their movement, inhumane behaviours, and the shared weakness. However, Lethifolds have been classified by the Ministry as beasts, whilst Dementors are considered non-beings. Additionally, Dementors eat people's souls. These ones' needs are more animalistic. And finally, those who have been here two years ago might have noticed that Dementors spread cold wherever they go and don't share the habitat with Lethifolds. I actually wonder what would happen if they meet." 

Danny saw a raised hand. "Miss Granger."

"Professor, does you showing this creature mean that we will be learning patronus?" 

The professor smiled and chuckled. "Well, this isn't in your exams. Patronus is a very situational charm. In fact, the Ministry strongly advised me not to do that. After all, the dementors are largely the enforcers on their payroll. They obviously ignore the fact that these are foul creatures which can go rogue at any moment. And how are they going to keep them in line without fresh blood with knowledge of this spell? But I digress. I see nothing bad in teaching you this. BUT," he raised a finger. "The ability to cast it is not given to everyone. So it is counterproductive wasting our lessons on this, I'm afraid. I'll consider your words, though." 

"Professor," asked one of the Slytherins. "Isn't patronus made from positive feelings? Wouldn't a criminal lack those already?"

"You are right in the first half. However, positive feelings are subjective. So, even Voldemort may cast one by thinking of strangled kittens or something. The difficulty here lies in many other things."

Once again he startled the class with his casual address. And no, he wasn't stopping just to feed their fear of the man's ludicrous name. 

"As I said, we may arrange an after class activity for those who want to learn it. Anyone wants to join?"

"Sir, why do you keep ignoring what the Ministry says? Aren't you afraid you will get fired?"

Danny huffed. "Me and the Inquisitor had a lovely chat about this. Don't worry, she can only bark."

"Okay, so not only bark."

To say that Danny was infuriated by the piece of news before him was to say nothing. Sitting in the staff room, he came across the announcement made by Umbridge, right near the invitation to come and watch the chorus hearings or to join MANA. Both made redundant by the degree hanging above all of them. Ironic how the very thing he had dreaded came about so soon. "The Educational Decree Number Twenty Four" it was called, and in the essence it outlawed all forms of public activity, clubs and even teams, quidditch included. To reinstate those clubs, the approval had to be given by the Inquisitor. It remained without question that MANA fell under those restrictions. 

"Outrageous," Danny heard a voice by his side. Looking down, he saw Flitwick reading the degree from under his small spectacles. "Who does she think she is?"

"I can think of some words," the young man all but growled. "I'm so going to have a word with her." 

"I'd honestly recommend that you don't," sighed Flitwick and went towards the armchair by the fireplace. "If she did this, then she is bent on going to the end with it. No matter what you say to her. If anything, it will only get worse. Why the chorus?" He squeaked sadly. 

"Because she would rather hit everything than miss the tiniest speck of resistance."

"Like your group? Danny, don't you think that this is the primary cause for her measures?" 

"Does it matter, Filius?" Danny raised his voice, ripping the list with the degree from the announcement board. "That toad would have done it eventually. Because she is a trigger-happy fool. She only proved everything I believe in!" 

He turned the piece of parchment into green flame and ashes, but his anger subsided quickly. 

"Sorry."

Flitwick sighed, reaching for a teapot. "I understand. It's probably not what you expected of Hogwarts. To walk the line, to follow the orders of a deranged woman, but please, don't be rash, Danny. Perhaps you aren't worried about what she can do to you, but think of the school."

"The same drivel over and over again," Fenton rubbed his temples. "I guess I will watch my tongue. Where is she now?" 

"Oh... I think she went to examine how Professor Trelawney teaches. Poor Sybill, she is going to be such a nervous wreck by the end of the lesson, I can feel it." 

That did sound like Umbridge to harass the teacher with the weakest willpower imaginable. The period was almost over, it was the perfect time to catch up with her and be in time for the lesson of his own. So, without further ado, Danny left the staff room. The empty corridors allowed him to ignore the laws of physics with no restraints and get to the point quick enough. Not a moment too soon when he neared the ladder leading to Trelawney's classroom, he could already hear the lady's sobs. Thanks to his enchanted hearing, yes, but they were quite loud and without that. Danny made a note to talk with Sybill later. He might not have liked what she was doing, but she obviously did nothing wrong. 

Leaning against the wall, Danny began to wait, his mind returning to the ideas formulated just days ago. It all depended on what Umbridge was going to do in response to his words. The bell rang after fifteen minutes or so, and the line of students was carefully climbing down the ladder. They threw confused glances his way, but it didn't go beyond occasional greetings. Among those students were also three kids from Gryffindor, the ever-present trio. Going a little to the side, they couldn't help but notice a few things. 

"Blimey, I've never seen him look so pissed before," Mumbled Ron. "He is giving me chills." 

Hermione seemed to quickly ascertain the reason behind it. "You've seen the degree. He is probably angry that what he just started building was outlawed."

"So... is he going to use his tricks to turn her into actual toad?" Asked Ron with a note of enthusiasm. 

"I don't think so," responded Harry, glancing back at the professor. "Maybe we could eavesdrop?" 

"Well... this was our last class, so we could try, I suppose."

Despite Danny's assumptions, Umbridge managed to get down on her own. She met face to face with him once close to the ground, the ladder standing between them. 

"Hello Dolores," Danny said with fake cheerfulness.

"Fenton," she feigned her distaste just as well. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dolores asked and got down. 

"I couldn't help but notice the decree."

"I'm surprised you actually took time to read it." 

"Hard to miss it when it takes most of the announcement board. Maybe we should take this talk elsewhere."

"No, that's quite alright to ask anything of me right here."

Danny stared, befuddled, at her. So she WAS expecting him to come and beg in front of everyone. And his patience was wearing thin.

"If you like making a scene so much, you don't need the privacy of your office," responded the professor dryly. "You don't have any actual work to do, so do spare me a moment."

"Excuse me? I have to check my notes for the report."

"This can wait. I said, follow me," Danny said with uncharacteristic authority. 

Dolores had no choice but to subconsciously oblige. In fact, she was surprised that the man was in no mood for his usual light-hearted jests. It made her realise that a cord had been struck, and, like a rational human being, she decided to keep pressing. Once they reached a secluded spot, Dolores began speaking.

"I assume it has something to do with your little group, Mr. Fenton? Are you here to ask for permission?"

"If that's possible," Said Danny as politely as he could. 

That grin of hers made his fist ball. Albeit she didn't see it.

"Why, of course not, professor," she said. "Your activity is dangerous and very harmful. I can't possibly allow you to position those filthy half-breeds as something normal." 

"Just as I expected," the professor sighed. "Does my argument not satisfy you anymore?"

"What?"

"Azkaban, Dolores," Danny reminded.

And as he was saying this, the trio leaned closer to the corner, able to hear everything. 

"I have contacted the warden, Mr. Fenton. He knows nothing of you. You are just a silly little liar. And people must not tell lies," she kept grinning. 

"Jeez, she really wants him to punch her," Ron mumbled. 

"And that would mean his sacking," whispered Hermione.

And all three of them could see the rage burning in the man's eyes. 

"Lies?" He repeated. "Then tell me, Umbridge. Are you willing to step before the Wizengamot and say "Yes, it was I who set the Dementors after Potter this summer?"" 

Everyone but him froze in shock at this revelation. Umbridge had assumed it was a bluff, a poke into the sky in an attempt to blackmail her. And if so, he could also false testify using the warden. But this was the level of knowledge she never knew that outlandish teacher possessed. The trio was shocked too, with Harry's rage threatening to spill over the edge. So it was her all along. That hag almost ruined his life. His friends had to stop him, physically, from going in there and giving Umbridge a piece of her mind. 

"How did you... I know nothing of this ludicrous claim." 

"Really?" Asked Danny dryly. "You are saying this as you hold a box of blood quills in your possession," he took off his fingerless glove and showed his hand, riddled with small cuts. "Personally tested. So. We have a corrupt bureaucrat who is against teaching kids defence, who resorts to dark arts, who sends dementors after the sworn enemy of the dark lord. I won't be surprised to find a dark mark under those long sleeves, Dolores." 

In response, Umbridge actually rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows. And there was no mark. 

"See, Mr. Fenton? You are a prisoner of your silly misconceptions. And everything you say is just that." 

"Alright, so your actions are just that? Pure enthusiasm?" 

"Indeed. I am enthusiastic about bringing order to this school. The school which lets miscreants like you to teach."

"And you will certainly try to change that fact?" 

"Why, of course. And obviously your little club is not meant to be, as well." 

"I see," Danny said smoothly. "Well, you can try to sack me. But know this, Dolores. You may not admit it, but you know that every word I said is true. And I somehow came across that knowledge. What's there to stop me from letting others take the same path to knowledge that I took? Your beloved Cornelius will surely be happy to know. Well, off I go. I still have a lesson to give, one of many more to come," Danny smiled and patted her shoulder.

But Dolores could see it. That murderous hatred in his eyes. 

Thankfully, they both left in direction opposite from the eavesdroppers.

"This is... this is insane!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Calm down, Mione, do you want the entire house to hear us?" Responded Ron. 

"She tried to murder me, Ron," Harry whispered angrily, staring into the fireplace of their common room. "How else are we supposed to react?"

"Hey, I get it, I am as angry as you two are. But just tone down. I don't like being the voice of reason, that's Hermione's job."

Everyone took a deep breath. 

"You think that what Fenton said was true, don't you?" 

"He wouldn't threaten her with this if he didn't know for sure. But still, how did he even do that?"

"Yeah, he is a bum with no friends, isn't he?" 

"Very tactful, Ronald," Hermione deadpanned. 

"What? He himself said so. It's all the more confusing how he manages to blackmail her." 

"Well, he got that Lethifold from some person he knew. Skulker, was it?" 

"Well, I don't know how, but this knowledge is important. Maybe we should ask him?"

"Harry, he would then know we were eavesdropping. Let's ask Dumbledore."

Harry huffed. "He evades us day and night. Do you think he will stop and listen now?"

"Well, why not McGonagall then? She is in the Order, too. And she is not Snape." 

"Wouldn't they already know what he found, though? If they are actually working together," Hermione sighed. "Why do we have to have a person wanting to kill Harry each year?" 

"Don't know," Responded Harry and got up. "But we should probably find Professor McGonagall." 

Since the curfew was still far off, the students decided to do everything then and there. Exiting the common room, they quickly found their way to the office of the Gryffindor Head of House. As expected of a woman as diligent and stern as Minerva, she was just where everyone expected to find her. After a knock and an invitation to come in the trio entered the room. Tidy and organised, it was the total opposite of Fenton's office. At least from what Fred and George had said. Professor McGonagall looked up from her papers and examined the guests from under her spectacles. 

"Mr. Potter. Can I help you with something?" She asked.

Hermione was the one to indulge the Head. "Professor McGonagall, it concerns Professor Fenton."

Minerva took a deep, shaky sigh and took off her glasses. "Of course. Well, what did he do this time?" 

"Professor, we were first meaning to ask," said Harry slowly, "Is Fenton in the Order?" 

Minerva blinked. "Of course not. We met him just this summer. And honestly, with how he likes to withhold information, I wouldn't trust him with our most important secret. What even brought this question?"

"He got into an argument with Umbridge today."

"And you just so happened to be nearby?" An eyebrow was raised. "Why is it always you three when something happens?" 

"He said that it was Umbridge that sent dementors after me this summer." 

If Minerva had been holding a quill, she would have dropped it. 

"She WHAT?" She said barely above a whisper. 

"Professor?" 

Minerva's look turned thoughtful. "Come to think of it, his blackmail did involve dementors."

"Blackmail?"

"Yes. That exam he took and him remaining at his post are due to said blackmail. And if Dolores actually backed down... we have no reason for not believing his words. Tell me what you heard."

After a short recollection of the conversation, McGonagall was silent for a minute, before speaking again. 

"Merlin, who is this boy?" She asked nobody in particular. "You three should be careful. And DO NOT try to get the information yourselves. Fenton's affiliation is an enigma to us, so we can't allow any risks. He chose to keep these secrets from us."

"But Professor. He wouldn't ask Umbridge if she had a dark mark if he worked for You-Know-Who." 

"We can't be absolutely certain, Miss Granger. An astute point, however. As for Dolores... we will try to find a way to expose her crime. But you must stay out of this."

The trio could only hope that the Inquisitor would get what she deserved.

Danny decided to keep his promise given to the shady owner of the Borgin and Burkes. That assurance was not any different from any others Fenton gave throughout his life and afterlife, and thus he intended to follow it through. Besides, Hogwarts didn't have extra ectoplasm, and Danny wasn't about to pester the local ghosts to give any. That would be embarrassing, difficult and painful. Non of the pros was worth the trouble. Thus, with the time that was left of the weekend Danny took the infamous bus to London. He really was glad that it took the same amount of time as an average trip in the underground. And he was also glad to be back to the Leaking Cauldron, of which he was going to have pleasant memories for quite a while. 

When he opened the door and went inside, Danny was greeted by the same, unchanged warm atmosphere. Smiling, the young man approached the counter.

"Welcome to the Leaky...Danny-boy!" Greeted Tom jovially. "What brings you here so soon?" 

"Hello to you, too, Tom," Danny sat nearby. "I just came to buy a couple of things. Thought I would stop by."

"How are you doing on your new job? I've read the Prophet..." 

"There are better things to do with your time, Tom," the young man huffed. "Umbridge is simply insufferable, I'm telling you. I am teaching just fine, I beat an auror like nothing, and yet she keeps nagging me about behaviour outside of the class. She has no damn business being there in the first place. Sorry," he chuckled. "Just had a run in with her before coming here. What about you?" 

"Business as usual. In fact," the owner looked around. "There's been more people as of late. But I still haven't found a replacement for Alice."

"Who?" Danny raised an eyebrow.

"The maid who cleaned the rooms. You kept complaining about her. So, ya need anything, boy?" 

"Not really. I've eaten before coming."

"Heh, I bet. Nothing compares to what they serve in Hogwarts." 

The conversation lasted for quite some time, as the two friends were catching up on what's been happening in each other's lives. Tom was really curious about the newest professor, and Danny noticed some curious bystanders listening in on the conversation. So he watched his tongue most of the time, lest he smeared his reputation. One person in the crowd turned out to be a photographer, eager to get the first image of the newest hire at Hogwarts. Nothing really surprising, after all, there was only one school in the entirety of the Isles. Should have put on a better attire. Wearing the same sleeveless shirt and pants for weeks wasn't exactly by choice. His wardrobe was limited. And renovating it costed money he wasn't ready to spend yet. There were things that were more necessary than others. 

After the lighthearted discussion Danny went out to the Diagon Alley. There he realised that now he wasn't so unnoticeable, thus it would be harder to just visit that one shop. Furthermore, knowing the owner, Danny would have to pay some extra to keep that bastard quiet. That sucked. Finding a quiet, secluded spot, he turned invisible. He loved his powers. Fenton carefully tiptoed around the locals, taking in the scenery just a bit. Emerging in the grim version of the famous tourist attraction, the half ghost took the familiar road, still invisible. The less people saw him, no matter where, the better. 

He probably should have stopped coming here, Danny reasoned. Even if his purchase was not anything illegal, he was still worried. The professor knew, however, that there are no other sellers of ectoplasm in the area. That, and he did promise to keep buying the ectoplasm there. It was a small thing, and nobody would feel pity for the stingy owner, but it was a matter of principle for him. Nobody would ever say that Phantom went back on his word. Clockwork let him leave under a promise given by the half ghost. A promise that that tremendous power he held would not be used to destroy that world. It was seemingly simple, as there was no carnal desire to do this, no secret urges. However, it always took a little mistake to bring great change. And Danny wasn't going to make it. 

The grim thoughts soon retreated as he was approaching the familiar shop. Slipping inside without opening the door, he looked around and dropped invisibility. Not seeing the owner, the professor approached the counter and pressed the bell. When nobody came, Danny started impatiently pressing it again and again, until he heard a shout from the closet. 

"Coming, coming! Stop pressing the cursed thing!" 

Borgin entered the main room, startled at first by the visitor.

"Well, I'll be damned. Mr. Fenton, what are you doing here?" 

"I did promise to buy ectoplasm here, did I not?" Danny raised an eyebrow, watching the owner assume his place behind the counter. 

"Aren't ya a man of principle. I am not complaining, though."

With a lot of grunts, as the nature left him without any physical boons, Borgin started rummaging through the shelves. Danny in the meantime sat on a dusty chair, waiting for the owner to finish his search. 

"So, I have heard that someone with the same name as you became a teach at Hogwarts," Borgin began his questioning.

"I won't deny that," Fenton sighed, having known full well that that question would come. Hiding it was pointless as well. "So what?" 

"I just didn't take you for the type. You don't appear that approachable."

"Usually I'm not. And to be frank, the locals don't give me any reason to trust them. Dumbledore can be a prick, too."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Such a distrustful fellow. Why would he suspect me of something shady?" Asked Danny dramatically, putting a hand over his forehead. 

"You did come here."

"I am not buying that Hand of Glory, Borgin. Ectoplasm is a totally legal ingredient. You did get the one I asked for?"

"Why, yes," Borgin raised a jar of green liquid. "High quality stuff. Hard to find, mind you."

"My wage allows for it," the professor dismissed him. 

He put several coins on the counter, not missing the greedy glint in the man's eyes. Borgin decided not to indulge in haggling, but the younger man stopped him from grabbing the small treasure by putting his cold hand over the owner's. 

"This payment also includes you watching your tongue, pal," Danny said quietly. "Nobody is to know that I come here. You keep quiet, you get paid. You tattle, I'll turn you into a popsicle," he let his eyes glow green just a bit. "We good?" 

"Y-yeah. We good, kid." 

Danny let go and picked up the jar, putting it into a bag hanging from his shoulder. 

"Pleasure doing business with you," the young man smiled and went towards the exit. 

"What a creep," Borgin muttered and shivered. 

Danny's smile twisted into a smirk, indicating that he heard everything. Once again, scaring the people he didn't like felt oddly pleasurable. Once outside, the professor thought about his next step. He really didn't have anything else to do in London, so he probably should head back to Hogwarts. And he also had a couple of thoughts on saving money. Maybe he should take a flight to the school, a little practice with his abilities wouldn't hurt... But first he'd better leave the alley. At the moments like this Danny really regretted not training his teleportation power. He really needed to practice that aspect. Each time he saw the apparating wizards he did feel frustration, if only for a short while. Having the ever-expanding arsenal of ghost powers felt nice, but having his wand as well would have been better, too. 

Danny wasn't the most law-abiding citizen. Despite the ban on buying new wands enforced on every wizard charged with a serious enough crime, he did try to find a new one. Each dark wizard he defeated lost their wands to him. He also attempted to be as discreet as possible in his endeavour, going as far as borrowing some from the shops. However, every single magical tool he tried appeared to loathe him with passion. Come to think of it, even his own instrument back in the day was seemingly... confused, if such word was applicable to a piece of wood. It got all the spells he casted wrong, and each was tainted by the green shade. Danny had his suspicions that his ghostly core interfered with the insides of a wand. And he also had his idea on how to bind it to his undead self. 

In his thoughts, Danny didn't notice the approaching hooded figure. Seemingly unnoticed by the locals, it slowly approached the half ghost. From under the cloak emerged a thin, female hand. Taking no further notice of what appeared to be yet another shady passerby, fooled by his confidence in the fights, Danny was about to turn around the corner when said hand roughly snatched his bag and began to run. In the direction Fenton just came from. 

"Wha...Hey! This bag is mine!" Danny snapped out of his stupor and shouted, running after the thief. 

The cloaked person was fast. Several corners were passed, leading the two deeper into the dicey district. The road was becoming less of a pavement and more of a treaded path, showing no signs of being taken care of. At some point, the thief looked behind and didn't see her pursuer. Slowing down a bit, she slid inside the nearest alleyway. Dropping the bag on the ground, she slowly peeked outside, searching for the owner of the stolen bag. But then, a voice sounded from behind. 

"It's not even that valuable," Danny noted. 

With the internal scream of surprise, asking into nothing "where did he come from?!" the person grabbed the bag and started running again. The pursuit continued, and the thief tried to shake the pursuer off. What he wouldn't expect, she reasoned, was her going in direction of the Diagon Alley. He would not find her there. Especially since he was not in her sight most of the time. Danny's ability to find her no matter how far she was, was unnerving. Finally, reaching the main street, she slowed down, slid into the crowd. She attempted to blend into the sea of visitors. And for some time it appeared that she was conspicuous enough, and that the owner was lost. Taking a sigh, she found another safe spot between two shops. There, she finally opened the bag, hoping to see the spoils of her endeavour. 

"What?" She muttered, taking out a jar of the green liquid. "What the heck is this?"

"Ectoplasm."

The thief jumped in surprise and swirled around. There, Danny sat cross-legged on one of the boxes. In his expression there wasn't any anger, much to her further confusion. 

"I did warn you it's not valuable," he chuckled. "The only person you can sell it to is the one I bought it from. So, this plan of yours really wasn't thought through." 

The thief didn't answer, knowing that he got her trapped. In Diagon Alley, Danny could call the enforcers and they would snatch her in no time. That left her only one option. She took out her wand and pointed it at the unarmed half-ghost.

"Stay back!" She said in panic. "Or I will curse you!"

"You are welcome to try," Danny shrugged. "Look, I am not going to call the cops. Just give me my property back." 

"I... alright. Just... don't call anyone," she pushed the bag towards the professor's feet. "I swear, I don't want any trouble."

The half ghost raised an eyebrow at her willingness to back down. "Aren't you the one threatening me with a wand?" Then he seemed to realise something. "Alright, you obviously are new at this. Take off that hood, would you?"

"Why?"

"I can always ask louder," added Danny, glancing in the direction of the main street. 

Sighing, the thief did just as she was told. She looked to be around Danny's age. The girl's hair that reached her ears easily caught an eye with their silvery shade. Her own eyes, in the meantime, were blue, albeit darker than Danny's, which, admittedly, had set up a very high bar. Nothing about her seemed unusual, neither she looked to be in very dire need. And that's what confused the observant half-ghost.

"You haven't told me your name."

"Do I need to?"

"That's what I would prefer."

"You first," the girl said instinctively. Although, she wasn't sure what she could do with that information. 

"Danny. Danny Fenton. People around know this name by now."

"Wait... I read about you... YOU are the professor?" 

Danny shrugged. "Well, yeah. I'm glad to be known even to the less upstanding members of our society. Your turn."

"Chiara." 

"That's... quite concise, but I can roll with that. So, Chiara. What urged you to steal a jar of useless liquid?" 

"You know I never looked inside that bag," the girl muttered and crossed her hands. "I thought there was something more important there. Why are you even asking me these questions?"

"Honestly? That's the first time someone stole from me. I'm kinda excited about this new experience. Besides, the little angel on my shoulder asks that I listen to what you have to say." 

"Tell that angel that I don't want any part in this," Chiara rolled her eyes and turned towards the exit. 

"You heard her, she really doesn't want to talk with the one who now knows her by face." 

Chiara stopped and looked behind, befuddled by the fact that the man really was talking to his shoulder. Once she did turn around, Danny stopped his mocking. 

"Look, I know it may sound weird, but I have that weird obsession with helping those in need. So, I need to know if you are one of them."

"I never asked for any "help"."

"Few people ask. Even fewer can receive it. At the moment it is a 50/50 case. I really am curious about what you have to say in your defence. Otherwise I'll just assume you are someone of malicious intent and hand you over to the aurors."

"You will have to take me first," Chiara grabbed her wand tighter. 

But then what little of her intimidation there was was thrown out of the window when her stomach began to growl. Danny's look turned amused.

"I am not a teacher of DADA because I have pretty looks, Chiara. I honestly don't recommend you to do this. AND, if you do as I ask, I'll give you enough money for a lunch. Sounds good enough?" 

Going from threats to an actual offer was a good strategy, and it worked. Chiara sighed and sat on a box. 

"Fine. But money first." 

Danny shrugged and dug a couple of sickles out of his pocket, before handing them to her. Seemingly content with the amount, the girl looked away, thinking of how to begin.

"Look, I just have no job at the moment. It's not like I'm not trying."

The half ghost smiled. "I feel you. Have been jobless for several years before Hogwarts. My excuse was laziness and parents' fortune. Yours?"

Chiara turned nervous again, which was obvious from her hands that seemed to fiddle everything around in search of comfort. 

"I... I am a werewolf."

For the first time she saw actual surprise on the man's face. The time right after the steal of his bag she could not have observed with her back turned. 

"That explains a lot," he said.

"I used to work at St. Mungo's, just like I wanted after Hogwarts," the girl mumbled and sighed. "Then the degree gets passed and I am tossed out right after." 

Danny decided to keep his own grievances and disgust in check. At least for a while. Even here he could not escape the grasp of the Inquisitor.

"That's a pity. Sorry for asking, but... don't you have a family to help you through this? Why resort to stealing?" 

"Father remains largely workless, too. Ariphmancers are not really in high demand at the moment. He does some numbers for muggles, but has a bad time adjusting. And mom is just ill. You think I'm making some teary story to make you pity me, don't you?"

Her sudden backlash caught Danny off-guard. He must have made some wrong expression if she thought that way.

"Not really. I already gave you the money, so why would you need that? Besides, you sound sincere. And the Ministry does everything to make me loathe them even more. I assume you don't have much love for them, either." 

"Wait..." something clicked in her mind. "You work at Hogwarts... Is Dumbledore actually searching for allies to topple them?" 

"What?" Danny laughed. "No, no. In fact, the old man doesn't really trust me to begin with. And I am not looking to come and kill those shitheads. Even if I could and want to sometimes," he whispered in the end.

Chiara was growing uncomfortable. What was wrong with that man? 

"So... you haven't been contacted by some shady and creepy people? Other than me, that is?"

"No, I wasn't. Why do you ask?"

"Werewolves get recruited by the Dark Lord, is all," Danny shrugged. "Precisely because they are in the position similar to yours." 

"Dark Lord?" Chiara looked confused. "So you believe Dumbledore?"

"Yep. I know for a fact he is still out there. Plotting his evil Dark Lordy things. Do you know other werewolves who may have met the Death Eaters?"

"No, I don't know many. Only one. And I am also sure he isn't going to take such offer even if there will be one." 

"I'd like to meet him, still. What's his name?"

"Remus."

Danny blinked. "That wouldn't be Lupin, would it?" 

Chiara smirked. "Yeah. Figures you would know one of your your predecessors. He helped me deal with my lycanthropy. I mean that he taught me how to handle the problems of my condition. Told me what I should do. We write to each other occasionally." 

The half-ghost hummed. No, Lupin was hardly an option for his small inquiry. The older professor was just that, a teacher. The one who was probably in cahoots with Dumbledore. And the old man must not know about the new teacher's actions. Danny didn't want any interference.

"That's nice of him. But if it's Lupin, I'd ask you to keep quiet about our talk."

"Not that I was meaning to organise your meeting," Chiara shrugged. "What do you actually want?" 

"You see, I am trying to organise a movement to put some sticks in the Ministry's wheels. Werewolves I do sympathise, but if they go and join the Dark Lord, it will make it difficult for me to convince the people that you are harmless for most of your lives." 

Chiara blinked. "That's noble of you," she huffed with a small smile. "And as a Hufflepuff, I really mean it, but what can you do?" 

"Try to convince them."

"And if they don't, Fenton?" Asked Chiara. "You can convince me with a free lunch, but their demands may be higher. And you are just a teacher." 

"I am not just..."

Danny cut himself off. He was more than a simple professor. But he couldn't tell her that. 

"Nevermind. I can think up of something. Well, thanks for indulging my curiosity," the half ghost said and got up. "What's your plan?" 

"I dunno. Maybe I'll go to the Cauldron soon. I really got to eat."

After waving his hand, Danny departed, a new dimension of his plan appearing in his head. It was true that he wasn't ready to expand the movement outside. It really could cause a large backlash from the Ministry. Back in Hogwarts, the dominion of Dumbledore, he was the one to take the blame in the eyes of Cornelius Fudge. On the outside it would not be that simple. Danny would be within their sights when it happened. 

Chiara's words resonated well with what Clockwork had told the reluctant young man. He was more than a simple teacher, he was more than the people that surrounded him. All he had to do was to outstretch his hand and seize what he wanted. His peaceful protest against the discriminatory foundation of the wizarding world may have been squandered, could be outlawed even. As long as he put himself within those bounds, nothing of the essence would be done. He was more furious now after seeing first-hand the outcome of the Ministry's actions: short-sighted, bigoted, insipid. How could something like this change? Would the fools in charge of the Ministry change because a bunch of kids and some adults demanded so? Umbridge already gave him the answer. It was a sad, but realistic conclusion. The attempt to protest the existing order of things was thwarted, but not extinguished. Instead, an idea was born, making him freeze, to stop in the middle of the street, surprised that it appeared within his mind at all. 

What if there was something that made himself and his protest pale in comparison? What if there was a visible threat to the existing order of things? To combat the sentiment the Ministry would have no choice but to yield to the demands of a group that demanded the same, but less. Danny remained firm in his belief — Voldemort presented no such threat. He was the epitome of the existing order of things, not its future destroyer. He too was the enemy, just like the Ministry was.

Danny sighed. His half-ghost nature would simply not allow him to ignore the induced suffering for long. Those pesky thoughts, no strangers in his mind, were still an urge of his counterpart, no doubt. His human common sense, however, kept reminding him that calling attention to himself would be ruinous to his projects. One day the fools from MACUSA would come and ruin everything again if he wasn't careful. Danny stopped near one of the shops, his attention caught by a fancy broom. What happened next, was a trick of light, which made the young man see his own reflection. If there were higher forces which wanted him to see things their way, perhaps they succeeded. Perhaps, it's not Fenton who should get involved from that direction. Of course, why didn't he think of that?

In his thoughts Fenton didn't realise that he was in the cauldron already. Tom was all too happy to see the young man again. 

"Hey, Danny, got what ya wanted?" 

"Yeah. Pretty much..." mumbled the professor as he approached the owner. "Listen, Tom... you said you are looking for a new maid."

"That I do. What, ya got a candidate?" 

"Maybe so. A lady might walk in soon enough. White hair, a cloak, wears a blue medallion on her neck. Could you offer her a spot?"

"Well, I dunno, Danny-boy. We are a respected establishment." 

"If she refuses, feel free to dismiss her. Unlike me she actually needs a job, though, so I'm asking this of you." 

"What, is she your girlfriend or something?"

"Nope. Just a vagabond I felt the need to assist."

And that also would keep Chiara right where he wanted and could easily find. She was meant to be the first step of a new group that would play a role in his plan. The wizarding world would have to change.

Even if it was forced to.

Chapter Text

Amycus Carrow was many things — a Death Eater, a thug, a man sleazy enough to evade the cruelest punishment the wizarding kind had in store — Azkaban. What he never thought he would be was a man with a bag over his head, tied up to a chair and gagged. Upon realising the dangerous, confusing position he was in, the Death Eater began shaking on his seat, resulting in the eventual, but inevitable — the chair fell and he followed, his face kissing the floor. However, tied up he might have been, his ears still served him well. And what they caught was a boyish laughter.

"Not so scary once you catch them." The voice spoke as the chair and the Death Eater were flipped in a standing position.

Carrow began shouting in rage, but the gag prevented him from doing so. 

"Oops, forgot about that. Here, let me help." 

The bag was taken off, and Amycus stared into a pair of sickly green eyes. The man before him was young, scrawny, but unearthly at the same time. Aside from the unnatural glow emitted by him, the boy possessed bleached white hair. Dressed in a strange combination of black and white, the boy floated in front of Amycus, wearing a Cheshire grin that made him even more unsettling. Before the Death Eater could properly process what was happening, the gag was painfully taken off too by the gloved hand. 

"Argh, untie me, you stupid child!" 

"Let me think...no," the boy responded. "I didn't knock you out and carried here to release you soon after." 

"That was you, punk?! You are a corpse when I get out!" 

"I am already a corpse," the boy rolled his eyes. "You aren't exactly enticing me to release you." 

"Who the hell are you?" 

"Name is Phantom. You know, 'cause I am a ghost."

"Someone isn't very original."

"Someone adds "Lord" or "Prince" before it. And it still beats that stupid "Inviso-Bill" crap," the ghost grumbled. "That's not the point of our little talk. I want to know what you guys are up to," he said and pointed at the man's elbow, marred with the dark mark.

Amycus stared at the strange ghost before him. Aside from him looking nothing like a ghost, his behaviour and intent were baffling even for Carrow. 

"Do you really think I will betray my lord and babble everything to some insignificant ghost?" 

"This insignificant ghost knocked you out back in your home and dragged you here. To this abandoned shack." 

"Why did you even target me?!" 

"Simple. I needed a starting point. Obviously I can't just sniff where your boss hides. So, I ran down the newspapers that talked about the trial you decisively won. I obviously didn't believe your innocence, because Wizengamot is a joke. And look at that, I was right."

Phantom leaned on the back of his chair, turned towards the captive.

"I can get the information out of you at any moment I want. But believe me, it won't be pleasant." 

"I already told you, punk. I am not going to tell anything! Where did you put my wand?!" 

"Something-something fragile cargo. Wasn't handled with care and broke in the process of transportation."

The dark wizard turned furious. "You little piece of shit!" 

The boy didn't seem phased by that. "You wizards are not a threat to begin with. Much less so without your sticks." 

Phantom snapped his fingers, and the rope around the man was loosened. 

"But I'll give you a cha..." 

With a roar, Amycus lunged forward, trying to grab the neck of the annoying child, but his hands expectedly just went through. As the result, the momentum made Amycus stumble forward and fall, along with the chair Phantom used to occupy. The boy just floated at the same spot. 

"You aren't the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?" He tilted his head, the snow-white hair flipping along. "I am a ghost, you can't hurt me."

As the Death Eater tried to stand, he suddenly received a kick to the stomach that knocked out all the air from his lungs, forcing him back to his knees. The shocked wizard was at a loss for words. Sensing this, the ghost continued. 

"But I can and will hurt you if you don't cooperate," he said coldly and menacingly. "Are we on the same page, Carrow?" 

"Why," Carrow panted. "Why in the world would a ghost want something like that?"

"Because I hate you," the boy smiled. "And the Ministry too, but," he sighed. "They are a bit out of reach for the time being. So, we do one at a time. From the small fries to the big catch." 

"Who are you calling small, punk?" 

"The one lying at my feet maybe?" Phantom raised an eyebrow. "Don't bother getting up. This will work just fine."

"I will get killed anyway. There is nothing you can do to make me speak." 

With a chilling smirk the boy got on his knee, his face in shadows except for his glowing eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the voice of the dark wizard slightly shook. 

"Well," the boy took off his glove. "I guess we will resort to underhanded tactics." 

Before Carrow could do anything, Phantom roughly put his palm on the man's face. The excruciating sensation of getting an instant frostbite made the man scream in agony, his body writhed, but he felt himself pinned to the ground. Carrow's eyes glowed with the same colour Phantom's did, and only then the ghost released the man, who by then had stopped resisting. But the glowing mark in the shape of the palm was still where it used to be.

"Well, then. Let's start our inquiry. Tell me, where is your boss now?"

"Malfoy Manor," Carrow responded emotionlessly. 

Phantom blinked. Draco must feel like the luckiest person around to be away at this time. "Okay, next question. Do you know anything about the recruiting campaign?" 

"Giants want to join us," came a response. "Dumbledore sent his own goon to try and take the initiative, but he failed."

"Is this a done deal?" 

"No, they are still on the fence. But they are as good as ours. The meatheads just want to beat shit out of everyone. We give them that."

Phantom's expression didn't change. "Anything else?" 

"Greyback will go to recruit a pack of werewolves in Wales. Should be in Cardiff by next Sunday."

"Right before the full moon," Phantom mumbled. "I need details." 

"The pack lives at the outskirts. Where wizards in general live. I don't know anything else." 

"I'll take note of that. Next we have a very interesting question: what are you guys up to?" 

"Most of us are still locked up in Azkaban. The Dark Lord wishes to free them as soon as possible."

"When," asked Phantom with all seriousness.

"January at the earliest. My Lord needs to recruit dementors first. I don't know how in the world he is gonna do this. But I won't put anything past him."

"Dementors?" 

For the first time the ghost remained stunned. To pull off something of such magnitude was truly impressive. Although, as he had learned long ago, people obsessed with one particular thing are the easiest to sway. One should simply direct that obsession in the proper direction. Dementors were the ever-hungry beasts even Danny had no sympathies for. Voldemort could promise them a feast, and they would oblige. Then a thought occurred in Danny's mind.

"Say, you know Umbridge?" 

"Who doesn't know that toad." 

"Wow, even to you she is deplorable. Now that's an achievement. Does she work for your boss?"

"If she does, I don't know that."

That really was an awful coincidence that two most disgusting people Danny knew (and were alive) were intertwined in that dementor business. Although he could fish out the information from Umbridge, an assault on her would not be so easy to cover. Voldemort couldn't exactly go and issue a plea to the aurors. 

"I think I got what I needed. Thank you for your assistance," Phantom said and snapped his fingers. The mark and the glow in the eyes were gone. Carrow blinked several times, before staring in shock at the ghost. 

"What the hell did you do?!" He yelled.

"Simple. Ghosts can possess people. It is a complicated process, but I figured that I don't need to overshadow to get them to do what I want. I just scrambled your brain chemistry so much that you would have killed yourself should I have demanded. And the best thing is," he laughed. "It's not a spell, so nobody can track it."

Now the Death Eater was growing terrified. 

"I got what I wanted," the boy kept smiling. "Go on, the door is out there." 

"You are... letting me go?"

"Yep. It's not like you will go to the Dark Lord and tell him: "Oh, I'm so sorry, boss, I told our secrets to the random ghost. Let me kiss your boots and beg for forgiveness," spoke Phantom with feigned drama. "You better keep our conversation a secret. If he doesn't kill you, I will. Shoo." 

Carrow bolted out of the room that instant. Danny could hear the footsteps, the door loudly opening, and by looking out of the window he could also saw the silhouette running off into the night. Then, he allowed himself to release a loud fit of laughter. 

"Oh, that was priceless. A weekend well spent," he mumbled, looking at the old, tilted grandfather clocks. They were in terrible condition, so relying on those was probably not the best idea. Still, it was probably the time for him to go. Lest he was late for the morning classes. The nostalgia of sleeping only for a couple of hours came over the half ghost. And it was unwelcome.

Floating through the wall, Danny saw the wizard somewhere far off, running towards the green hills of a typical English countryside. He still wasn't very good with locations of the isle, so he couldn't tell the name. Still, there was something serene about the landscape, especially with the moon being so high in the sky, shedding the light upon the treetops and admittedly worn out shacks and cottages. Danny had picked the place because it was the nearest to the hideout Carrow had employed. He couldn't interrogate the man there, for at any moment other Death Eaters could come without his knowledge and ruin everything. For now, Carrow was the only person who knew about Phantom's plans. And even he was not aware about what was going to transpire. Danny felt the rush he hadn't experienced in a while. Putting the criminals and murderers in such a helpless spot felt cathartic. 

Taking a deep sigh, the young half ghost took off into the sky, in the approximate direction to the north, in hopes of actually finding the castle. It had been a while since he had switched into the ghost form. Maybe it was because he could use most of his abilities while being a human. It took some time to grasp, but it was still, admittedly, not the same. His ghost form could lift a truck with ease, a human would easily lift a heavy desk. And flight, the greatest part of being a ghost, was so limited, it was almost laughable. What good would soundless steps do if he couldn't launch himself into stratosphere in several seconds? But it also meant that he had to be extra careful when bashing the skulls of his opponents. Lest they looked like a train had run them over. 

If the Ministry was aware that such ghosts even existed, it could cause a panic among them. For there was a race they couldn't easily subjugate with their magical sticks. Since Phantom was the first among them to be seen by wizards, he had to make sure they remembered that the world didn't spin around them. But perhaps he could find some helpers not only among the more conventional races. Someone who would love to go against the people in charge. Yes, he had a couple of ghosts' contacts. One of them, by a miraculous chance, was not so far away. And looking at one of the city billboards below, he was quite aware where to find her.

"Thank you, thank you, people, you are a lovely crowd, you stinking brits!" 

The somewhat insulting words were not interpreted as such by the adoring crowd of teenagers. After all, many rockstars were hardly the examples of politeness. And thus, the teens only laughed it off as the singer stepped down from the massive stage. Grinning widely, popping her tongue, she disappeared behind a black curtain, her group-mates following behind. Well, it was a bit of a stretch to call those mindless idiots anything of the sort. All they were good for was playing in tact. Humans didn't think that the sickly shades of their skins, empty eyes were something but makeup. It was good for the singer herself. She would never share a stage with anybody else, anybody who was not her mindless puppet. 

Going through the corridor and dismissing the security (not that there was any actual need for those), she entered her own little room in the backstage. There, in the mirror in front of the chair, she could see her own reflection. Ember McLain appeared as a teen girl, barely an adult. Her most striking feature was probably long, blue hair tied in a ponytail. The flaming shapes were the general theme, and her leather gloves, boots and other pieces of attire had azure flames drawn all over them. Her grime, the eyeshadows capitalised on the otherworldly air around her. Which was to be expected. From a ghost. 

Ember didn't examine herself for long, however, because in that reflection she saw a person hidden behind a large newspaper. 

"Long time no see, Ember."

Danny put away the piece of paper, crossed his legs and smiled, the green eyes of his ghost form bore into hers. 

"Dipstick, is that you?" Ember smirked and huffed. "You are lucky I am not in the mood." 

"To use that guitar of yours to burn me to the crisp?" 

Danny stood up and approached her. Getting awfully close. There was a time when Ember could call him a kid, but as she was stuck to her date of death, the half-ghost before her had the perk of actually ageing until a certain point. And thus, the former kid now towered over her. Which she immediately noticed, as well as the hand that pinned into the wall, blocking the way of escape.

"Wh-what the hell are you here for?" The girl stuttered, backing into the wall. 

Danny smirked. "What? Am I not allowed to see an old friend?" 

And then he began to chuckle. "Always meant to try this," he said and backed down. 

Just as he expected, the girl slapped him across the face, so hard that he had to back away. The glass in the mirror near them gained several cracks from the force of the hit. 

"Shut up, dipshit and tell me what you are here for!" 

Danny rubbed his green cheek. The ectoplasm had rushed to his face to heal the caused damage. 

"I really meant to see you, for one."

"You ain't my dad, beat it. I don't have to report to you."

"I am the one who lets you roam around humans, though," retorted Phantom and floated to the sofa. "How is it going, Em?" 

McLain realised that she would not force Phantom out anytime soon. She had reached her power ceiling long time ago. 

"The usual stuff," she shrugged. "Adoring fans, fanboys and fangirls trying all too hard to mimic the perfection that is me. But you know what I was doing. What about you? Skulker occasionally meets you, he told me you became... a teacher?"

"Why yes, that's true." 

Now it was Ember's time to break into laughter — a very loud one. 

"Oh, man, what did these brits do to ya, Dipstick?" 

Danny smirked. "I've grown all too fond of my new job. Sadly, the spot is cursed and I will get tossed out at the end of this year. But that's not all I do."

"Really? What else? You've learned knitting?" Huffed Ember and reached into a mini-fridge by the table. Fishing out a can of beer, she opened it and began gulping the contents down. 

"It is a magical school. I suppose you can guess that I'm back to the wizarding world."

"What for? Didn't they kick you out because talking with our kind is a big no-no?" 

"They did. But you can say I still hold the grudge. And because of that I want the British Ministry to eat shit." 

Ember stopped her chugging and put a nearly empty can on the table, never diverting her eyes from the young man. 

"What are you planning, Dipstick?" She asked slowly. 

"To make sure that the high and mighty wizards realise," Phantom got up and smirked. "That there are forces much more powerful than they are. Like us." 

"Us?" Ember snorted. "There is only you, Phantom." 

"I am your king, am I not? The whole "represent our race" thing and all?"

"Yes, except you ain't a full ghost. At this point you are your own specie. What a pity it will die off. With only two males around," she cackled. 

"Hilarious, McLain," Danny rolled his eyes. "Never took you for a purist." 

"Am not. You are just a perfect target for a little bit of bigotry. Why did you come to me and started telling me all this?" 

"Because you asked. And because I want you to join my effort." 

Ember's green eyes were ready to pop out. "I always thought you were a bit out of this world."

"Did those posters of space in my room tip you off?" Phantom asked. "Look, Ember. If I know anything about you, it is that you are all about teenage rebellion. You picked up rock not only because you liked it, but also because your parents hated it. So, I offer you to join the biggest rebellion of your afterlife, short only of the whole Pariah fiasco."

"I have my musical career, Dipstick."

"Yes, among humans mostly," Danny began circling around her. "And you know what humans do? They age. Something you can't do. At some point they will notice this. And unless you want scandals, pitchforks and torches, you should think of something else to entertain yourself."

"You ain't my boss," Ember's blue hair began to wave, her expression dark. 

"I am your king," stated Danny, firm as a rock. "Try to ignore this all you want, all of you do. You know I am right." 

"How will this even help me?" 

Phantom grinned. "Feed your obsession for one. As you imagine the faces of those bureaucrats degrading themselves before you, don't you feel the surge within your core? That's what you want above all else — to push adults from their high perch. Don't you want that?" 

"Bringing up the obsession, aren't you?" Ember hissed, looking less and less human by the second. 

"But you just cannot refuse now, can you? I am unlike you people in this department, too," Danny smirked. 

"You piece of shit!" Yelled Ember. 

"Just a little bit of bigotry. Calm down, Ember. The only thing keeping you from joining me is the dislike towards your benevolent monarch. If we can move past that and cooperate, just like when we fought Pariah, we can also achieve some great results." 

"You leave me no choice," the girl responded as her anger subsided. Now she sounded bitter. "Fine. What do you want?" 

"The next stop of your tour will be Cardiff. Do what you want, I just need you to be there by next Sunday. I have a plan for a little bit of civilised debates."

By the next weekend the traveling singer had to make a little detour, just as the insufferable royal had told her. Phantom had paid little interest in how she would have to go through the massive headache of organising the travel. In the end Ember opted for simply departing from the rest of her crew, traveling on her own, flying west, to the city of Cardiff. She wasn't exactly bothered by the need to find Danny in that metaphorical haystack. He was the one finding them all the time, thanks to the built-in radar of his. Back when he was the local hero and they were his Saturday morning villains. Although, his relationship with all of them wasn't exactly hostile around the clock. Occasionally, there was the need for them to team up, and Pariah Dark was the prime example. 

Ember had to give it to the half ghost. There was something about him that just made them all follow the boy to what probably would be their end. The word "likeable" was probably a bit of a stretch, Ember found his overt righteousness annoying and off-putting. Which made his current change of attitude appear so sudden. He did portray his reasons in a more childish way, as a wish to spite the adults, but Ember was not stupid, Phantom did so only to woo her into his scheme. There was no feasible way for a man like him, the one who was obsessed with protecting others, not to see what road he was taking. The road that could potentially bring havoc. Not that the anarchist by heart had anything against it, but she hadn't expected Phantom, who was supposedly their future highest authority, to go against the authority of the Ministry. 

And still, Ember should have expected this. She had heard stories about how harsh the wizarding world truly was. And how oblivious the wide-eyed kids were to its problems. Since she never got a letter to that world of wonders, her vision was only obscured by her cynicism, the one that prevented her from feeling sympathy towards anyone who could get harmed in the process. Danny saw those problems, it was only natural for this goody-two-shoes to try and put an end to the most disgusting practices wizards sullied themselves in. The main question was whether or not he would succeed. And who would end up being hurt in the process. Well, hopefully she would have fun doing this.

True to his preceding promise, Phantom crossed paths with her in the sky above the city centre, she didn't even have to wait for him. Floating upside down, he just popped up in front of her after his invisibility dropped.

"You made it! Great. Now we can move on to the fun part."

"So are we just going to look around for these "Death Eaters?"" 

"Nope," Danny rolled in the air and now properly faced his partner in crime. "I already have what we need."

In fact, Phantom had arrived in Wales that morning. Since he had to be inconspicuous, he first took a Knight Bus to London, to throw the potential nosy teachers off the track. He had also visited the Cauldron, to create an alibi and to converse with newly employed Chiara. With satisfaction Danny had noted that she was very thankful to him for that opportunity. Only then had the young half-ghost took off to another part of Britain, violating the airspace of the isle. By the end of his journey, he could finally get down to business. Asking around the magic fellows quickly gave him pointers as to where he and Ember were going to go. As was the case with all ostracised communities, the werewolves grouped together to weather the challenges together. And it was there where the meeting was going to take place, of that Danny had little doubt. 

Two ghosts quickly took off, hoping that they weren't too late for the party. The wizards in general preferred to hide their world behind a veil of devastation. To a muggle the cauldron appeared like a disused old building. One could only expect that the lowest lows of the wizarding kind would hide in an actually decrepit place. An issue arose soon enough, because two metaphorical lightbulbs were bound to gain attention. Danny couldn't go human, lest his face got recognised, and Ember was too far from her stage to play the supernatural down. They couldn't let themselves to be seen too early. Not having a wand was also a problem, because usually the wizard hid behind such veils.

"So, what are we going to do once we find the hideout?" 

"We talk. If the Death Eaters stand in the way, we hurt them. Sounds like a plan." 

"That's one simple plan."

"A simple plan that works."

"A simple plan which can fail."

Danny rolled his eyes as the two ghosts landed on the roof. Ember could use more optimism in her afterlife. Going back to the question of getting there, the barriers could also be enchanted to block the muggles from entering. Danny sincerely hoped that that was the case for the old warehouse before them, because he never was a muggle, and he could get Ember inside just fine, especially if they both were ghosts. Magic worked in mysterious ways. Without asking, Danny took Ember's hand and pulled her inside. With a yelp, she was phased through the wall. The second she stepped inside the warehouse, her burning glare was ready to pierce the idiotic overlord. 

"Touch me again and I will..."

"Shh..." Danny put a finger to his mouth. "Listen." 

Despite her anger, Ember did as she was told. Soon she started hearing the bits and pieces of conversation. 

"I am telling you!" The gruff voice sounded. "The life you people have is no life at all!"

"Looks like we are late to the party. Come on," Danny whispered. 

Only now the visitors noticed the surroundings. The warehouse was filled with tiny rundown shacks made of scrap, meant not to shelter people from rains and horrid weather, but to secure some personal space. The sad state of affairs was to take note of, and Danny made sure to do just that. He would shove this situation into the face of those disgusting bureaucrats in London as much as needed. But that would wait. Now he had a more fitting enemy to fight. The entire populace, children and elders included, huddled together to watch the propagandist actions of one man. He was, without a doubt, Greyback. Not only had Danny seen the pictures of the man before, but the speaker was giving himself away. 

The dark robes and shady henchmen hinted at his allegiance. The sideburns, the unclean shave and a messy haircut made the man look more feral. And gave away what he really was. 

"The Ministry gives no shit about ye. They tossed you out of your jobs and made you toil 'ere for nothing." 

Danny could see that the locals wanted to ask their questions, but had no courage to do that. However, some matters needed to be addressed.

"So... what are you offering?" One of the men asked. 

"I offer you to join our cause. You will get payback on the Ministry, I assure you."

Phantom only sighed. The guy wasn't much of a speaker, it seemed. Better put him out of that misery. Telling Ember to wait behind the Death Eaters, he himself prepared a theatric entrance. As Greyback continued with his lacklustre speech, Danny loudly and slowly clapped, interrupting him outright. All eyes turned towards the newcomer, and his unusual appearance surprised even the servants of Voldemort. 

"Marvellous speech, Mister Greyback," Danny commented, stepping in front of the Death Eater. "If it isn't the man responsible for creating half of Britain's werewolves." 

"And who in the bloody hell are you?" 

"Phantom is the name. The Lord and Prince of all things dead. And by coincidence, a ghost myself." 

"Who?" The man tilted his head, looking genuinely befuddled. 

Danny sighed. "Figures you know not about me..."

"Get outta the way, bugger. This doesn't concern you. You," he turned towards the locals. "You never said anything about poltergeists." 

"I don't live here, Greyback. Came across the entire Britain just to track you down," Danny floated closer to him. 

"Ghosts don't just travel wherever they want," the Death Eaters reached for their wands. 

"Yeah, but I'm the strongest one around. And I have a bone to pick with your boss. By the way, have you told these folks about them serving Voldemort himself?" 

Everyone around let out the obligatory gasps of horror that Phantom had grown tired of hearing. 

"What? I'm already a corpse." He complained. "Go on, Greyback. Tell these good people the truth." 

"There is no denying that. But my Lord offers these people the salvation. The werewolves would no longer have to fear for their future."

"Tell this to the people you doomed to such fate, you buffoon. I had a chance to talk with one of your victims. She was just a little girl when you chose to bite her. Good people, this ruffian IS the walking epitome of why the Ministry has any sort of legitimacy in public's eyes when it comes to your status. Do you wish to sink even lower? To the level of this little bastard?" 

"Shut your mouth," Greyback let out an animalistic growl.

"Oh, the evil dog barks, but can't bite," Danny mocked. "This is what he is, everyone. A dog, the caricature of what you are like."

"What are you even here for?" Someone from the crowd shouted. 

"I came here for several things. One, I wish to stop you from making a grave mistake. I understand that your position is hard, unbearable to some. But will it really become better? I remind you, this guy wants to purge the wizards he doesn't like. Those who do not suit his standards of purity. Do you really think that that bigot is any better than the Ministry? I hardly think so."

"Yeah? And what are you offering, brat? Are you working for Dumbledore?" Greyback barked.

"I am not. Dumbledore is too... shackled. Indecisive. He doesn't seek to change this world, he only wants to defeat the Dark Lord. I will do both. That's what I am offering to the people here. I want to bring change to this stagnant society. Where the werewolves or the likes of me will not be ostracised. Both you and the Ministry are my enemies. You, Death Eaters, are just a very low-hanging fruit. A perfect start for my quest. And I will not let you poison their lives any more, Greyback."

"Have you bothered to ask us?" Another person from the crowd asked loudly. 

"Let us decide right after," Danny smiled. "What I can't allow is for Voldemort to continue his slaughter. So the choice is this: join my group, good people, the side that has the backing of the future king of ghosts. Or, you can remain here. Simple as that." 

"If you think that I'll let one stupid ghost decide what to do..." 

Greyback took out his wand and pointed it into Danny's face. 

"It's just that. I am a ghost. You can do whole nothing. You will only harm the locals." 

"I'll be careful," Greyback gave him a wolfish grin. 

Danny sighed. A little demonstration could help his cause, he supposed. 

Before anything could happen, the werewolf casted a spell. Danny could not dodge and endanger the people behind him. Thus, "reducto" made the direct impact with the summoned shield. 

"What in the..." 

"I told you. You can't kill me, you piece of shit!" Danny's eyes seemed to ignite.

The next second a powerful blast came right from the sockets. The blasted wizard had no chance to react, and Phantom followed the hit by dashing forward. In a split second he reached the opponent and pinned him to the wall with the force that felt like a truck had just hit him. Grayback even dropped his wand in the process. Danny glanced back and saw the other Death Eaters, readying for the attack. 

"Ember, would you?" 

A single loud note got the attention of the dark wizards. The masked individuals turned to the side and saw the other ghost, who lazily adjusted her guitar. 

"Thought you would never ask. You like rock, dipsticks?!" 

She swiped her hand across her instrument, and the devilish contraption let out a loud metallic noise.  The sound waves were strong enough to hit the wizards with a force of a truck, blasting them into the nearest shaky building. Everyone else had to shield their ears from the thunderous tune. Danny himself was hardly comfortable with that. His flinch was enough for the werewolf. Barring his teeth and letting out a roar, he head-butted the opponent. Caught off-guard, Danny had to let go of his enemy. Grayback used the opportunity and punched the half-ghost with all the strength he could muster. Phantom took a step back, subconsciously putting a hand over his bleeding forehead and staining the white gloves with the glowing green liquid. The werewolf lunged for his wand.

Ember had her eyes focused on the other Death Eaters. They quickly bounced back and managed to utter several spells. The diva jumped back and phased through the wall behind her. Using the opportune moment, the wizards shifted their attention to the white-haired annoyance. Danny heard them shout the curses and was quick to summon a shield with his free hand. Grayback was still behind him, Danny had to remember. In a split second Phantom dispersed the defence and fired a clumsy shot in the Death Eaters' general direction. It did the job, and the small explosion threw the wizards off. Danny immediately turned away from them, just in time to block another curse. He vanished in thin air, and Grayback tried to trail the ghost by the metallic smell the ectoplasm left. Danny attacked almost immediately, and his next punch came right into the stomach. With several broken ribs, the werewolf was smashed through the flimsy wall of one of the shacks. 

One of the dark wizards, once again gaining his footing, was about to retaliate, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the grinning ghost once more. And in the next second, her guitar was used to inflict physical damage. Ember swung her instrument and launched the man away like a baseball, right towards where the other half of the fight took place. Upon landing, he got a kick into the face from the half-ghost, who then quickly lowered his head to avoid a spell. 

Phantom grabbed the nearest plastic chair and flung it at the werewolf. The granted second of delay allowed to fire another green blast. All the dust in the room flew upwards when the wave hit. Grayback was coughing out his lungs and was barely standing at the seems. His resilience greatly impressed his opponent.

"You are sturdier than you look," he commented. 

"Go to hell," rasped Grayback and spewed blood at where the half-ghost was standing. He almost managed to reach the boots.

"I wish I could, buddy. Been trying to for quite some time."

Grayback raised his wand-holding hand, but his tongue betrayed him, he was not fast enough. Phantom's eyes turned ice blue, and a split second later the cold beam pinned the wizard's entire arm to the wall, having encased it into an icy prison. Danny smirked, approached the man and patted the his head.

"You tried your best," he mocked. "Then again, the approaching full moon certainly does wonders to your people's better judgement."

"The Dark Lord will hear of this, you bloody poltergeist. And when he does, you will regret coming back to this world."

"Oh, I certainly do hope that he hears of this. Does he read the newspapers by any chance? Just wait a sec," Danny raised a finger, "Ember, are you done out there?" 

"Yep! N0t much of a challenge, are they?"

"Alright then," said Danny before knocking Grayback out. He released the hold on the wizard, melting the ice trap and letting the water soak the Death Eater. Upon sniffing the air, the young half-ghost grimaced.

"Smells like a wet dog," he mumbled.

Danny grabbed the man's collar and started dragging him out. And once there, he came to notice a strange thing. Despite Ember's previous reassurance, one of the Death Eaters stood by her side. To Phantom's curious look she responded by flipping off the man's mask. The Death Eater's look was blank and void of any conscience, and his eyes glowed with a bright pink colour. After noticing this, Danny involuntarily cringed, which didn't escape Ember's attention and brought a gleeful expression to her face.

"What's wrong, Dipstick? Nasty memories come to mind?"

"That won't work on me again. Although, if he comes to the Aurors on his own, it'll be of use to us. Alright, people, this shitshow is over! You can come out now."

Finally, Danny took a good look around, without having to worry about the Death Eaters sneaking up on them. The few residents that had the courage to come out were looking worse for the wear, which was to be expected. The full moon was going to be in its zenith soon. They also wore some very cheap clothes, and the reason for that could be two-fold. They had no money and when werewolves transformed, it was in what they were when coming into this world. So, nothing at all. It would be wasteful if they had to tear apart pricey clothing and then buy a new one each time. But that's a digression. Danny stood in front of them, and whatever impression he was leaving on them was making their instincts go all over the place. 

"You said you wanted to have a talk," one of them said.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Now that we won't be interrupted."

Out of nowhere, several chairs, composed of ectoplasmic energy, emerged, swiped right under the locals, forcing them to take a seat. Danny himself landed on one. 

"As I said, I want you people to join my cause. But that's not much about what I myself need. More like, I want to ask what I can do for you," he smiled.

"And what CAN a ghost do?"

"You saw it yourself. Me and my accomplice took down three above-average Death Eaters with no major issue. And that is counting the fact that I didn't want to break your stuff. Or to kill them for that matter. Point is, I am a Ghost King for a reason. I am among the strongest members of my kind, and I want to use this power to bring positive change to this world."

"Why would some ghoul even care? Don't you people float around, all absorbed in your past lives?"

"That seems to be a trend wherever I go. But I am not them. I care because I myself faced great prejudice that ruined my life. We are kindred spirits, should I say," Danny chuckled quietly and leaned forward. "I can help and protect your people. And that means stepping on the Ministry's shoes as well."

"Are you suggesting we become terrorists?"

"Goodness, no. When have terrorists achieved anything? Other than taking lives of the innocent? And just like that, killing Fudge or Umbridge, despite my clear ability to do that, will achieve nothing. They will simply be replaced by the people that share their sentiments."

"What is it then?"

"I ask that you become revolutionaries. The difference is that we will not be attacking random officials. One day we will storm that accursed office of theirs and force them to accept our demands."

"Still sounds like terrorism to me."

"We aren't killing anybody unless they attack us. Simple as that. I want this to happen with as few lives taken as possible.  I had my doubts, but the Ministry made it abundantly clear that no peaceful means will dissuade them. So, we have to up our game. That is why I am first aiming at Voldemort himself. By beating that monster, we will do this world a service, as well as making our intentions clear. That we all will not stand the disgusting practices of the wizarding world."

The locals seemed to be contemplating the idea. 

"How can we trust your word? You are a ghost. There is no telling what you will do once this is over."

Danny raised an eyebrow. The next second he vanished and then reappeared right next to the doubtful man.

"Are we putting labels on people who are different, now?"

"T-that's not what I meant! You are the only ghost around that cares, at least acts like it. What point is there to save this world for you? And how do we know that this is not just some game for a poltergeist? For all I know you can just raise your hands and leave when you get bored."

"I assure you, the thing that keeps me tied to this world is also beneficial to you. I genuinely want to help."

"We don't promise you anything, kid. If you still are a kid, hell knows if you are older than all of us. We will consider it."

"That is fine. I already have one thing to ask of you, however. Grayback is going to the prison, I hope. But in any case, Voldemort will send some more goons. I want our stories to align for your own good. I was the one to beat them up, you never agreed to anything what I said and for now you remain neutral. This way his anger will be towards me and not you. To the police I will say that I came across these criminals and fulfilled my civic duty. We can't let the Ministry know that you even can be recruited. Or they will make your lives even more miserable. Are we on the same page?"

The werewolves looked at each other and nodded. 

"Yeah, sounds good enough, lad."

"And also. I hope you know how muggle phones work. Or, at least, the phone booths I see all around."

"We do, but, why do we have to know?"

"Well, for one, the stuck-up wizards will never learn how to actually tap the phone lines. Our communications will be safe. And besides, if you get in trouble, I can come to the rescue as soon as possible. I promised I would protect you," Danny smiled. "Alright, I think we will be going. Ember, pick up that guy, we still have to carry them to the aurors." 

The diva's eyes widened.

"Wait, wait, wait, Babypop. We never agreed on that part."

"You agreed to come along. That kinda entails following me until we are done."

"I ain't gonna come and show my face to the aurors. And I think that you shouldn't either."

"Why so?"

"Your only saving grace is the colour palette. And the last time I checked, the wizards only have black and white pictures."

"Well, not really, but you do make a point. They may just be smarter than the residents of the good old Amity Park. I still need to get them to the aurors..." Danny rubbed his chin, before brightening up when the idea struck him. "Yes, that may work. Ember, get the charmed guy to pull his friends to the post. Can he pass on the message or is his brain fried at the moment?"

"Dunno, guess you will have to try. Hey, dum-dum, do as he says."

Danny turned towards the Death Eater. "Hmm, let's keep it simple. Tell the aurors who apprehend you who you people are, tell them that you are under a mind control spell. Remind them that Grayback is a werewolf and that he can turn any moment now. Oh, and tell them Lord Phantom was the one to do this to you. Got it?"

The wizard dumbly nodded. 

"I sure hope he doesn't fall into the nearest mud puddle," Ember smirked. "Lord Phantom, eh?"

"What?" Danny asked as they turned towards the exit. "The Lord of the Infinite Realms is one of my titles."

Ember followed him, as the Death Eater struggled to pull his companions. Thankfully, he was fit enough to do the job, although not without difficulties. And some damage to the ones he was told to deliver. 

"Don't let that get into your head, Phantom. You forced me to join you. It wasn't because you get some sort of reverence."

"If any king's legitimacy depended on what traveling singers thought of them," Danny snorted, "This world would have none at all."

Chapter Text

A CONFLICT IN WALES. A STRANGE VIGILANTE ATTACKS DEATH EATERS.

The headlines never ceased to amaze the half-ghost with their ability to grasp attention. During the breakfast at Hogwarts he had received the weekly edition of the Prophet, which had also granted him some odd stares from the staff. Of course, his attitude towards the Ministry and their pet newspaper was evident to all, so for him to renew his subscription was a bizarre event. Danny had told everyone that he just wanted to be aware of what was going on, even if he had to squeeze the bare minimum from the deluge of propaganda. And besides, he genuinely wanted to know what they wrote about his human half, too. But of course, his weekend adventure made the headlines. It was pleasant to see that his effort caught the desired attention. Holding a cup of coffee in one hand, leaning back in his seat, he held the paper in another, going down to read the contents.

The piece of news reached to our editorship from Cardiff, Wales. The criminal wanted for multiple accounts of assaults and murder, as well as service to Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Fenrir Grayback, was apprehended in the city, alongside two of his accomplices. The aurors are still looking into the matter and the strange circumstances surrounding it. The head of the local department, Cassius Davies, gave his commentaries to the Prophet:

"This got to be the most bizarre thing I've seen on my post. The other day one of those buggers just barged into our office and brought the other two in toe. He was definitely cursed, but our usual Imperio removal didn't work, he just snapped out of it after about an hour in the cell. He basically told us that he was cursed by the most beautiful lady in the world 'at the order of Lord Phantom himself'. Whoever that bloke is, he took down three Death Eaters and is not above dabbling in some dark arts. We will be investigating who that man is, and will continue questioning the Death Eaters. Then the centre will deal with them and Wizengamot will give them their due."

The emerging Dark Wizards are nothing new to our world. Only a select few go down in woeful memory of the people. One such example is the former leader of the currently imprisoned trio. The aurors suspect that this 'Lord' is another man seeking to take the position the former and deceased Dark Lord. His identity still remains unknown and the aurors ask any conscious citizen to inform your local officer if you know anything.  More on the topic on page 12..."

Danny put away the paper and took a sip of morning coffee, as a tiny smirk crossed his features. At least they took him and his name seriously. The whole "Inviso-Bill" fiasco was still fresh in his mind, making him shrivel each time he remembered being called by that horrid moniker. Ember had turned out to be correct, and he was glad that he had listened to her. Perhaps it was better to remain in shadows for now. Until he harnessed some strength and influence. It gave him some time to ponder on the next step of his plan. That pack of werewolves was in his pocket now, basically, but it was hardly enough to topple the government. He needed some influential allies at the top. And that's when the news played against him. The Prophet took him probably too seriously, so happy to think about some nascent dark lord instead of the one already there. At first, it would seem like his plan backfired, dissuading the potential allies before he even met them, but it would change soon. After all, he never appeared as some dark individual, enough not to get tossed out at the first second.

But for a time, the dust needed to settle just a bit. Danny decided to dedicate that break to fulfil his duties as a teacher and a researcher.

Danny never considered himself a fan of quidditch. Several factors led to such outcome. One of them was the obvious fact of the boy being far from athletic. Or very aware of his surroundings. Neither made a good player. But it was one thing to play, the other was to watch. But, once again, what was the cause for the first example, was also the effect of another. Namely, said body build was the result of his general disinterest in sports of any kind. This apathy created an interesting precedent when the professors' roles were somewhat reversed. Whilst the sternest of them all — Minerva and Severus — cut their students some slack to get the much needed pre-quidditch practice, Danny on the other hand saw no reason to change his schedule just because of some game. He wasn't affiliated with any house, he wasn't about to favour anybody either.

Danny was actually amused that even Snape wasn't ignorant of the match. Which, inevitably, led to him pointing it out during the evening full of ectoplasmic experiments.

"You actually reserved the whole pitch for your kids? That isn't really sporty." 

Snape only rewarded him with a brisk glare. "I am expected to do everything for my house. So I do that. Minerva is no stranger to underhanded tricks herself." 

Danny just stood at the opposite side of the table, holding a bicker. 

"I sense some bitterness here." 

"Ever since Potter came, my team had been losing over and over to them. And he joined one year earlier than permitted." 

"I don't really think that's something empowering for the team to take someone one year younger."

Danny poured ectoplasm in the cauldron as Severus got to mixing. The Slytherin head only grunted. At this moment the half-ghost remembered the conversation he used to have with Draco.

"Don't you think nepotism is the cause for failures?" 

"Pardon?"

"Well, all Draco has to do is to make a suggestion and they got two of his friends on the team. If the members are chosen not for their skill, but for certain people's wants, how can the team get better? You heads don't get to decide on the composition." 

"You are speaking nonsense, Fenton. Pass me the Aconite."

Danny swiped his hand, and the ingredient flew into the cauldron. 

"You can be sincere with me, Severus," Danny put a hand over his chest. "What good ambitious people of Slytherin would do if the old order of things straps them down? It isn't ambitious at all to lick someone's boots." 

"To me it sounds like you dislike Malfoy, that's all." 

"No, I do not. He is the same student as all others. I am just curious about how things are run around here. I mean, maybe this lack of change is what drove many Slytherins to turn to the Dark side and all?" 

"Fenton, what are you talking about?" Asked Snape, sounding genuinely confused. 

"No matter what house you are in or what you do, the top brass is taken by the pure-bloods. People have little room for growth, and Slytherins feel that ceiling more than anyone. And Voldemort gives them a chance to achieve something. At least they think so. These same pure-bloods are in toe with the greatest purist of them all. I don't know why the desperate flock to that bastard. Has he ever done anything to benefit his followers? All he did was to be the cause of them being thrown behind bars."

Severus didn't know why the boy took the Dark Lord so lightly. That monster was the scourge of all of Britain, and yet Fenton mentioned his name so casually. Perhaps that young and arrogant boy was simply unaware about the scale and damage. No matter the cause, such dismissiveness irritated the potion master.

"Fenton. Your ignorance never ceases to amaze me. The Dark Lord is extremely powerful. He possesses charisma, and poses a threat to all around. And for some foreign upstart to act in such a matter when it comes to this criminal is the highest insult to all of us." 

 "So which one it was, Severus?" Danny narrowed his eyes. "His power, charisma or the fear he instilled? What made you put that mark on your hand?"

Severus instinctively grabbed the edge of his cloak, realising that his hands were not exposed. 

"I am not talking about this," the Potions master hissed. 

"Don't you always," muttered Danny. "I don't care how you people stick your heads in the mud at the very mention of his name. I will keep calling him what he is." 

"Of course you will," Snape took out the spoon, dropped it on the table and glared at the younger man. "You are the all-knowing man-child here. Perhaps there is something I should be aware of? Something about myself even I am not aware about?" 

McGonagall, suffice to say, had not hesitated to inform Snape and all other teachers about the information the boy had gathered. 

"Is this about Umbridge?" Danny immediately realised. "No, I know nothing about you, Severus. Because you guys are not her. I just have friends who were ready to dig up the trash for all to see," he rubbed his palm, completely smooth now. "Which reminds me, she isn't in power to issue detentions, right?" 

"If someone breaks the rules she comes up with, technically she can. Why are you asking?" 

"I'm concerned with leaving her alone with kids. Who knows what shit she is up to." 

Elaborating further would make Snape way too demanding for more information. 

"Don't do anything to provoke her further. She already glares at you each time you pass." 

"Fine, fine. I'll try."

His activity was slowly moving away from the school limits anyhow. But he shouldn't just leave M.A.N.A. to rot. Their club may not exist on paper, but they still could distribute brochures and propaganda of their own. No doubt Umbridge would eventually outlaw those too, like every power-drunk frootloop. But better spread as much as possible before that.

"I actually was meaning to ask," Danny looked at Severus. "How is Dumbledore treating my initiative?"

"Why do you ask me?" 

"Don't be coy, Severus. I know you and Minerva are his closest... colleagues? Advisers? Friends? You get the idea."

Snape sighed. "He is sympathetic towards the notion of equality with most races you mentioned. But he, obviously, cannot act upon it." 

"Yeah, the Ministry will eat him alive. Which cannot be said about you guys." Danny fished out a small badge out of his pocket. "I was wondering if you..."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I am not entertaining your pointless childish endeavour." 

"Come on," Danny lightly nudged the professor. "It's for a good cause. While some students are calling you a bat, there are plenty who respect you. If you were to, say, put this on during lunch once, it would already be enough to convince some students to follow our ideas."

"YOUR ideas. I said no and that's final."

Danny hunched his shoulders and pouted. "Alright."

Severus suddenly got an idea. The boy was offering a relatively small price. If he were to use that chance...

"I may consider it..." he saw the young man brighten up. "If you answer me this: how exactly you are getting all your information. I don't need some vague details."

Danny was not stupid. He remembered that he was being interrogated at such instances. He also supposed that nothing bad would come out of some details.

"I have an acquaintance," Danny sighed and sat near the cauldron, checking the notes they made. "His name is Walker. And like ninety nine percent of my acquaintances, he is a ghost. During his life he worked for MACUSA as a warden of our local prison. Since we don't use dementors, he fell victim to a massive breakout. It was a massacre that killed nearly every guard there. He has some experience with Azkaban, too."

"How does a long-dead ghost help you?" 

"Well," Danny chuckled. "Since he owes me for improving his dwelling..."

'And defensive systems of his prison,' he added mentally.

"I called in that favour and he sent one of his dead guards to rummage through the on the spot documents. Obviously the warden doesn't live anywhere near Azkaban, but there are some unfortunate souls who stay there. They received an order for sending several dementors to London. The request signed by Umbridge. Her obsession with legality will be her downfall," Danny huffed. "But that's basically it. I never actually talked to the warden, but it helped me buy some time." 

He stood up. "Ghosts are more than what wizards think of them, as you can see."

"Your obsession with dead people is still concerning." 

"Well sorry for being so lonely that I only had the dead to speak to," Danny responded with sarcasm. "At least they can listen, they aren't going anywhere."

And as if on cue, Danny's ghost sense was triggered. A second later Sir Nicholas floated through the wall, looking perplexed. 

"Oh, there you are, Daniel! I've been looking for you."

Danny had a crawling suspicion of what this was all about. So, he needed to cut the exchange short. 

"Is this about Peeves again? I thought I told him..." Danny started approaching both Nick and the exit. 

"What..." Nick muttered, before noticing Snape. "Oh, yes, that, Daniel. You are very capable of doing that."

Danny smiled slightly at seeing Nick play along. "Be right back, Severus, it should be quick."

Even he, with all his super-hearing, did not pick up what Severus mumbled after that. The Potions master then noticed something.

Exiting the room and making a bit of a distance from it, Danny stopped and finally turned to face the Gryffindor house ghost. 

"Alright, so what is this really about, Nicholas?" 

"I... have been hearing a lot of rumours. About the news article," Nick spoke slowly, carefully picking words. 

"Ah. That," Danny hissed. He really had hoped it would take a while for them to notice, despite his suspicion just now. "Yes. It was me. And as you can guess, the newspapers chose to overdramatise. Again. Look, Nick. I just went out to enjoy the old times. Beating up and arresting the Death Eaters is a service to this country, anyhow." 

"I am not judging, of course. I too think that you are doing the right thing. Dumbledore wishes to do the same but they are so limited."

"Who are 'they'?" Danny tilted his head.

"We respect your secrets, Daniel. I ask that you respect ours." 

"Oh, okay then," Danny blinked. "Didn't know it IS a secret. I get it, Umbridge keeps breathing down his neck. She thinks of me as his pawn, which is good. She would try curing the disease of which I am not the symptom. So, did you want to confirm your suspicions or something?"

"Pretty much, yes. Although there is a limit of patience for some of us." 

"You mean the Lady may tell Dumbledore?" Danny asked thoughtfully. "I guess I will talk to her."

"What do you want to tell her?" 

"To mind her business, if we put it rudely. But I am a polite guy. I'll come bearing a gift I've come across not so long ago. I'm sure she will be happy. If she even has it in herself to smile again. Oh, and, you should understand that calling me by my moniker is a big no."

He was, of course, meaning to bring out the diadem. Danny thought that the Lady would like an artefact of her House's founder. And even if she couldn't touch it, they could probably place it somewhere nice. He just hoped she would appreciate the thing. The half ghost still hadn't found much use for the diadem. Ghosts being resistant to certain magics backfired, reflecting good charms as well. He definitely wasn't going to sell the artefact, because it belonged in the museum, probably. It beat letting someone like Malfoy or Fudge keep it for their private collections. And compared to the Lady blathering out the truth, getting attention because of the treasure was a minimal risk. 

So, after being done with Snape, Danny returned to his room, casually dodging several traps lied in the corridor leading to it. Yes, the twins were not really successful in their attempts. Nobody entered that corridor anymore, however, fearing to tip the careful balance between the Weasleys and Fenton. And get covered in the dungbomb remnants. Once there, the young professor dug in one of the boxes he was keeping under the bed. Fishing out the diadem, Danny smirked and wrapped it in a piece of cloth. He couldn't allow himself to be spotted carrying it. Danny set out of his abode, wondering where the Gray Lady could be. Trusting his ghost sense, the professor started looking. Its reach was somewhat limited due to the sheer amount of ghosts around. It was like trying to find a single blade of grass in a haystack. Basically the same, but could still be spotted eventually. 

And he did find her near the Ravenclaw tower. Well, the trail of her spectral energies, more like. Figures she would be hanging around. 

As Danny was going up the stairs, he was suddenly approached by one particular Ravenclaw. 

"Hello, Professor," Luna greeted in her usual dreamy voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh, good evening... Luna," he remembered her name. Addressing everyone by their last names in class messed with his memory just a bit. "I was looking for the Gray Lady. I have something she and your house will be happy to get."

"What is it?" She asked innocently. 

"That's a secret, I'm afraid. So, do you know where she is? I can sense her presence, but I don't want to bump into a dead end."

"She is currently inside our dorms. I can ask her to come, if you want."

"That will be nice of you, Luna."

"Alright, wait here," said the blonde girl and went further upstairs. 

What a nice girl, Danny thought, leaning against the railing. The ravens did get a nice place for themselves. The view from the tower staircase was phenomenal. Although the mid-autumn wind was making it chilly up there, not that Danny cared much about that part. The staircase, or, rather, a spacey area slapped in its middle, was also a spot secluded enough at that time. Most of the students were already at their dorms due to the approaching curfew. And those few remaining could be easily seen from their spot. No extra eyes and ears was good. Who knew, maybe that nosy trio would like to do just that. 

Soon, Danny's ghost sense manifested physically in the form of icy breath. Glancing up the staircase, he noticed the slim, see-through figure of the Lady. She did not return the young man's cheerful smile. 

"So it's you," she said with zero enthusiasm. "Be quick, Phantom, I have no time for this." 

Danny hissed. "Could you please not address me in such way? It's Danny. Or Daniel. Or Fenton."

"Are you afraid that your adventures will be known to all around?" 

"Precisely. And that's exactly why I came."

"Because you don't trust me to keep quiet about this."

"You don't sound offended," Danny sat on the nearest stone bench. 

"I never hid such fact. And how do you plan on coercing me into your scheme... Daniel?" 

The young professor smiled, putting the wrapped present on the bench near him. "I've come bearing gifts." 

At a snap of his fingers, the cloth untangled, and the diadem started to gleam under the light of the setting sun. However, Lady's reaction was the opposite of what he hoped to see. Instead of shock and gratitude, he received disgust and anger.

"Where did you find this wretched thing?!" She hissed loudly. 

"Now that's a reaction I didn't see coming. I stumbled upon it in the Room of Requirements."

"You 'stumbled upon it'. Inside a colossal junkyard." 

"I know. I know. Why such reaction, though? Care to explain? Wait, this cannot be right," Danny slowly said. "You know what used to be inside of it, don't you?" 

"Yes," Lady whispered, not taking her eyes off the diadem. Then it struck her. "'Used to be'?"

"Yep. That's how I found it. My senses reacted to the diadem as well as they react to you people. And I happened to know why objects may emit the same energy. It used to be a Horcrux, but I pushed the soul remnant out. It couldn't live outside and died. The thing is clean now, I know you can't physically touch it, but I thought that Ravenclaw should have it. Now, I ask that you answer my question, Lady Gray." 

Danny could see the debates going on in the ghost's head. After about a minute of silence, she spoke again. 

"Yes. I knew what it was. And I knew where it was located." 

"And that it is Voldemort's?"

"How do you... know that?"

"Logic, plus my guardian angel is the Master of Time."

"I knew not of what he intended to do with the diadem. If I did, I would have never allowed such atrocity." 

"I believe you," Danny responded. "He probably could charm and deceive people. Otherwise he wouldn't have got so many followers. And you never told about it to anyone?" 

In response Lady shook her head. "I did not. Because I couldn't bring myself to admit that I somehow... inadvertently aided that monster." 

"So I'm the first to hear this... thank you."

"You shouldn't be," the ghost sighed. "Had you not brought the diadem, I doubt I would have shared this knowledge. You simply left me no choice but to share this burden." 

"I didn't push you," Danny smiled. "I think that you wanted to share this at least with someone. Voldemort took that diadem when? Around fifty years ago? Even ghosts need to share some things after such amount of time. It's great actually."

"I see nothing 'great' in this."

"Nope. Since I came here I've been hearing how you people are but shadows of your former selves. How you are forced to live with the last moments of your lives forever. But this one shows that there is still life, or afterlife, see what I mean? You still feel anger, you still feel regret and even joy. This is not a remnant of your human existence, so even your kind of ghosts still has something going for it. You are not shadows, Lady Gray. You are still your own people. That's what I am saying." 

The ghost was caught off-guard by the gentle words the boy said to her, disarmed by his boyish smile. Perhaps, Danny really was the one who understood them better than anyone. Danny got up and dusted his clothes.

"The diadem is yours, I mean it. My only request, is that we respect each other's secrets, okay?" 

The ghost looked at him with wide eyes, but there was what Danny could swear was a tiny smile.

"You should show this to Professor Flitwick. He will know how to handle it. You will not speak of this conversation?" 

Danny made a zipping motion across his mouth and smiled. "Silent as the grave."

"Albus, what do you make of this?" Asked Minerva as the headmaster read the article before him. His half-moon spectacles gleamed in the light of the nearest candles.

"Hm... Phantom, you say?" Albus looked up at McGonagall with amusement. "That is a very straightforward name. A pseudonym, perhaps?" 

"That's not what I meant."

"I understand," the headmaster said and got up from his seat, approaching his pet phoenix. "There exist such vigilantes who try their hand at attacking the dark wizards themselves. Mostly they die horribly. But I've never met one who addresses himself as a lord. Perhaps this IS someone who simply wishes to usurp Voldemort's throne. Which may also be presumed empty. There are a lot of unknowns, and it is too early to make decisions. But there is something connected to this. And something which should be brought before the order." 

"What is it, Albus?"

"Remus was supposed to meet with a pack of werewolves right where Grayback was apprehended. But the hustle there now prevents him from doing that. Furthermore, we had a suspicion that Fenrir is trying to recruit them, too. This 'Lord Phantom' managed to throw a wrench in our common plans with no effort. And perhaps, he even managed to secure their support for himself somehow. No theory should be dismissed." 

"This... we already have one Dark Lord to worry about, and now this," the teacher put a hand over her forehead and sighed. "I just hope they will fight among each other and allow us to act instead."

"Well, I can certainly say that Voldemort will get furious. Phantom got a head-start because we had no idea of his existence. Perhaps he will dedicate some of his forces to tracking this fourth figure on the board. Speaking of figures, how is Dolores?" 

"As usual. Making sure the students follow her 'decrees'," muttered Minerva angrily. And to think they used to call her a stickler. 

"And everyone follows?" Dumbledore asked with amusement, reaching for a box of his favourite lemon drops. "Even our newest teacher?" 

"Fenton is the same as ever. Occasional banter in regards to her, his finding a ton of loopholes even the best judiciaries of the Ministry would not be able to spot. But after his club was shut down immediately, he appears to hold genuine disdain towards her. We all do, I would say, but he seems content with continuously provoking her."

"He IS the same as ever, I see," Dumbledore chuckled. "Nothing suspicious from him?" 

"He doesn't even leave the school grounds, I am told. He doesn't send owls, only travels to London occasionally to buy ingredients for the project he and Severus are conducting."

"Yes, I think Mundungus can keep an eye on him there." 

"For that we need to know when he parts. I'll relay this to Severus."

"I heard this well enough." 

The Potions master strolled through the doors, covering the distance to the headmaster's desk surprisingly quickly. 

"Severus. Is something the matter?" 

"You yourself asked me to come," reminded Snape.

"Did I? Oh, my ageing memory is all over the place," Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well. You have something to report?" 

"I do, in fact. There is something about Fenton's journal that caught my eye. I didn't notice this at first."

"Oh, and what is it?"

"He had torn several pages out. I was looking through the effects the ectoplasm on human body, in hopes of learning its similarities with some ingredients. It could allow for better mixing. And that's where the missing pages are. I counted around four of them." 

"That is suspicious. Another oddity of his to add to the list," McGonagall mumbled. "I suppose he does know what effects it has."

"Ectoplasm is a strong poison," Snape shared his expertise. "Digesting it results in your insides being burnt out. Daniel seemed to indulge me in a certain way. He said that it is 'radioactive', whatever that means. However, the ever-shifting structure of ectoplasm prevents 'ions' from traveling too far and killing you on the approach. So unless you actually touch or drink it, you can keep containers of ectoplasm around." 

"It is an interesting insight. So, we are ruling out actually ingesting this substance. Unless..." 

McGonagall quickly caught up with Dumbledore's train of thoughts. "This whole project is aimed at recreating what he had already seen." 

"Perhaps that's where the source of his strange magic is. He warned us that it was something seemingly foul. And it certainly appears that way." 

"Merlin, what is this kid?" Whispered Minerva. "Are we sure that we are not creating something horrible here?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Asked the headmaster. 

"There is no denying that Daniel is already a force to be reckoned with. He already dispatched one of the strongest aurors like it was a game for him. What exactly will happen if you do create such a potion? Will he become even more powerful? We still don't know what Fenton is planning and if this power won't be turned against us." 

"Alright, kids. Put your quills down, time is up," Danny called out to the class. 

As was to be expected, the kids hurried up to scribe as many words as possible in less than a minute that they had. The young professor was sympathetic enough to give them one more minute, before the scrolls floated to the teacher's desk. Despite the multiple protests the kids voiced, Fenton only chuckled and got up from his desk. He remembered the times when he was on the receiving end, and now it still felt strange. But he had mostly gotten used to this after a couple of months. 

"I'm not giving you homework this time, go have a bit of rest," Danny said and chuckled. "Before a major disappointment comes," he added, looking at the scrolls. 

And the students in turn had gotten used to the heavy irony each sentence of their teacher oozed with. Some rolled their eyes, some laughed. Some seemed on the verge of fainting. No matter how lenient he could be, exams were important. And he still didn't tolerate attempts to cheat. In fact, the students were caught off-guard each time he appeared near them, kindly asking to put away the cheat sheets. As in, he took and burned those to crisp in his palm. The kids never took him for a stickler, but it seemed that he could make exceptions. As he had put it:

'Cheating here only leads to misfortunes down the line'. 

The odd dark underline didn't go unnoticed, but the students had far more pressing issues at the moment. 

With that matter out of the way, the kids set off to have some lunch, while the professor hurried to his room. The Gryffindor trio went with the rest of the students, all in different sorts of mood, each of those were fairly obvious and evident from their faces.

"I am doomed," Ron mumbled, suddenly finding the floor all too interesting. 

"You say this after each exam, Ron. But you are still pulling through," Hermione gave him a reassurance. 

"Somehow," Harry added, before being nudged by the redhead. 

"Oh, shuddup. You ain't much better than me."

"I dunno. I think I know at least this subject," Harry shrugged. 

At first the lunch was nothing but the children filling their stomachs. However, eventually their mouths were once again able to utter proper words, and the lively discussions once again resumed. Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione opening the last issue of the Prophet. Again. He hadn't asked before, might as well do so at the moment. 

"You got something interesting?" He asked his friend. 

"This is just odd. Apparently, Grayback was arrested."

"You don't say," Ron butted in, "Did he just walk inside the auror post or somethin'?" 

"Here, read it, Ron," Hermione handed it to the redhead. Harry leaned closer to get a peek himself. After scanning through the article, the boys were just as befuddled. Especially Harry. 

Phantom, they said. The Boy Who Lived just so happened to know another person who had a similar moniker. And as if on cue, the happy-go-lucky professor barged through the doors of the Hall, carrying a package in his hands. In an incredible show of speed he approached the head table, gathering the attention of the teachers present there, as well as Dumbledore and Umbridge.

"I'd like to make an announcement, Albus," Danny told the Headmaster, "It is extremely important."

"Oh, is it?" The old man displayed some genuine curiosity. "Does it have something to do with what you are holding?"

"Exactly," Danny smirked. 

"Well then, let me get you the attention," Dumbledore chuckled and tapped on his goblet with a teaspoon. That seemed to work, as the chatter was swiftly cut short. Danny was amazed at how the old man pulled that off. Figures, he was Dumbledore. 

The professor coughed and stood at an owl-like rostrum before the staff table. 

"Good afternoon to everyone I haven't seen today yet!" He greeted. "I am not very good at speeches, so I'd rather get straight to business. You all know that I am a very nosy person. I have dedicated a lot of my spare time to looking into every nook and cranny of this place out of curiosity. Hell, I got inside the Chamber of Secrets. Mister Potter, you ought to have taken some souvenirs, basilisk remnants are quite valuable."

At this, Danny fished in the package, having already shocked everyone with his trespassing on the dwelling of the basilisk. 

"Mr. Fenton..." Dumbledore slowly asked, extremely surprised himself. "How did you manage to get inside of it?" 

"Oh, I heard that the basilisk moved by pipes," Danny swiftly lied, "They had to go somewhere. Namely the depth of the lake. That's where another entrance is. And yes, Severus, that's where the ingredients for a gill-making potion went." 

Then Danny took out the silver diadem, before Snape realised that nothing at all was missing, raising the diadem high in the air. 

"Ladies, gentlemen, Dolores," he nodded towards the Inquisitor, "I present to you, the Diadem of Ravenclaw!" 

The statement created an uproar. The long lost artefact of the Ravenclaw house was now in the hands of a teacher who had swung by for one year only. 

"I thought that it will be wrong to keep it or sell the thing," he glanced at Lady Gray and smiled slightly. "So I am doing the next logical thing. Filius, I believe that you will find it a proper spot," Danny turned to Flitwick and gestured for the short teacher to come closer. 

The Charms professor was so ecstatic, his feet were getting wobbly. It felt amusing to watch, but in a good way. Flitwick came close to Danny and with shaky hands he took the artefact, examining it closer. 

"The diadem is real!" He breathed out. "Young man, this is a find of an era! Are you saying that it was here this entire time?" 

"Yep," Danny chuckled. "Hey, Friar! We did find it here, did we not?" 

"That's right!" The Hufflepuff ghost shouted across the hall. 

Dumbledore was actually curious. Daniel could not compare his level of knowledge and ability to traverse this castle to that of the ghosts. They couldn't find it for centuries. And yet that ever-growing enigma did so in a couple of months. Something didn't add up. 

"Mr. Fenton," Dumbledore got the attention of the teacher. "Could you please tell us the exact location?" 

"Oh, it was the Room of Requirements, actually. Again, Friar told me about it. You really got to clean up the place and you won't have to worry about funding ever again." 

And now it made perfect sense. Ghosts could not access that place. The students, meanwhile, shared confused glances. What room?

"Ahem, ahem."

Danny's smile didn't go anywhere as he turned to the primary source of his headache. 

"Mr. Fenton. I hope you understand that artefacts of such magnitude are meant to be registered by the Ministry. Not to mention the fee on the magical treasures found on the territory where the British Ministry of Magic exudes control." 

"Ah, but I found it in a room which is not on the territory of Britain, correct?" Danny raised a finger with a smirk. "It comes and goes, Dolores. A unique place on the border of two worlds. Amazing, really." 

"It was on the territory when you entered that room."

"But the door disappears on the outside when someone enters. Thus, it wasn't in your territory and I am free to do whatever I want with the diadem. You people don't teach law here, as well. The result is before you," Danny muttered, yet the people near heard it. "You people just copied the muggle laws on similar aspects and called it a day. Westminster does your job instead."

Nothing could beat pushing a bigot's face into the mud of hypocrisy. The students lived for such spats between the two. 

"As for the registry, Dolores. I dunno, take a photo or something."

Harry really thought that the nicknames could sometimes be similar. The man at the podium didn't strike him as a dark lord at all. 

And speaking of dark lords.

"Your suspicions were correct, my lord," Lucius bowed his head before the ghastly white wizard. "You have read the articles, I presume?" 

"That boy found the diadem..." Voldemort said and rose from his seat. "I hid it in a place where no one was supposed to find it. I was right, it appears. Dumbledore had a reason to hire him. What does Draco report?" 

"He said that the professor believes in the same nonsense Dumbledore does. But Draco still is unsure if Fenton believes in your return."

"I assure you, Lucius. He does," hissed Voldemort, slowly wandering around the spacey room. His pet didn't leave his side for a moment, and Lucius had to watch his steps so as not to step on her. "And he's done more than the old man has in the last several months. I want to keep him under our watch, Lucius. Can you do it?"

"I was also told by Borgin and several of our agents that he visits London every weekend to stock up at the shop of the former." 

"Good," the dark lord said quietly. "I'd like to have a talk with him. You do understand what I mean, correct?" 

"To kidnap him?" Lucius asked in surprise. "Well, since he comes alone and visits Knockturn Alley it is not impossible. But my lord, he is not defenceless. How many people should I send?" 

"That's up to your discretion."

Lucius cursed mentally. Had the dark lord told him the number, he would not have been responsible for the possible failure. He almost slapped himself. It was just a boy. It should not be that difficult. 

"Speaking of attacking out of nowhere," Voldemort chuckled coldly, his boney fingers petting Nagini. "Have you learned about what led Grayback to such a failure?" 

"They claimed it was a poltergeist. He was aided by someone else. It is unclear what she is, but her musical instrument serves as a conduit for her magic. From the description and the name Grayback overheard, we have determined that she blends in with the muggles. Everyone knows her as a singer and a musician."

"Hmm... and the aurors?" 

"They didn't say a word to the authorities. I have made sure that they aren't interrogated, but my lord, I am unable to prevent their transportation to London and then Azkaban. Too high of a profile."

"I see. And I am certain that you truly are giving it your everything, Lucius."

Despite how reassuring those words were, the patriarch of the Malfoy house could still feel the anger. Luckily, it wasn't directed at him. 

"A poltergeist," the dark wizard hissed. "Defeated by a poltergeist."

"Do you wish to hear Grayback's excuses, my lord?" 

"I see no reason for that, but please, do humour me."

"Grayback claims that that was the most powerful ghost he had seen. Fully corporeal, faster and stronger than he is. This 'Lord Phantom' claimed to be the 'Prince of the dead'. Whatever the implications may be..." Lucius noticed something strange in his master's look. "My lord?"

"I know of a person that claimed to be the 'King' of the dead. The legends tell of a man who commanded the undead armies in the Dark Age. He almost succeeded in bringing down several human armies. Nobody yet knows what happened to him. Perhaps he perished. Now we have a 'Prince'. Is there any relation, I wonder?"

"But... wouldn't it make this 'Phantom' over a millenium old?" 

"This is just a suggestion at this point. Needless to say that he will meet his unfortunate end for daring to cross us. For now, follow the lead of that woman you mentioned. She can get us to where Phantom hides." 

"Understood." 

Chapter Text

Soon after the day of their common heist, Ember decided to spend her evening in the seclusion of her room. After the hectic few days performing small tasks for the eccentric prince, she was totally down for some 'me' time. Ember was getting winded up from all that running around. Danny had tasked her with asking the familiar ghosts if they wanted to cause the stir alongside the newly fledged "Lord Phantom". Since Ember spent more time with them than the half ghost ever did, it was only natural that she received that request/order. Not many chose to answer the prince's call, but those who did, like Ember's close friends, were eager for the future chaos. Phantom had contemplated asking his own acquaintances, but they all were on the other side of the dimensional wall. So he had to scrap the idea, and honestly, Ember saw little reason to bring up the furballs from FarFrozen. Those yeti-like creatures hated everyone but the future king. People said that he was their prophesied champion, but Ember never bothered to ask the half ghost. 

Ember still wasn't sure why she was even doing it. Yes, there had been an explanation even before she signed up for it. The ghost loved the rebellion, it was her theme. And yet, she found herself doubting if that really was the case. Or, rather, if it was the only reason. That white-haired bastard must have been manipulating her somehow, she was sure of it. Phantom only looked innocent and incapable of that feat. He had proven many times that he had brains and strength to boot. At that thought the memories of her past attempts to take over the world started rushing in. Sadly, each of her following attempts saw less and less success, because the ever-smiling ghost boy was always there to stop her. With his power not having hit its ceiling even by the time they last spoke, it was only a matter of time he walked all over those who he used to fight against. Although her first try almost brought the world to its knees, but it ended in the most embarrassing way possible. Remembering the outcome always made Ember flustered and angry even to that day. 

Shifting her thought process to the situation at hand, she had to admit that it was something to shake off the rust. It was a good thing she traveled by herself, accompanied only by her mindless puppets. Nobody was there to give her a reprimanding talk for going wherever she liked. Or where she was forced to go by that same white-haired manipulator. Danny appeared to be right in one thing, music wasn't her only passion, and she had hit a stump by that point. Her main song may have become an undying classic, but she didn't want to be known only for that. Working with the prince of their entire world to ignite the flame of revolution was, admittedly, a curious endeavour. It could just be the inspiration she had sought for so long. 

Unfortunately, her quality time alone in the hotel was going to be interrupted soon enough. She stayed there as a part of her concert trip, and some human pleasures, like resting in a hot jacuzzi, were not foreign to her, made all the more pleasant with scorching hot plasma for a core that she had. As she was resting, deep in thought, downstairs on the first floor two men in dark clothes, but with no masks, approached the registry.

"We have a visit arranged," one of them said. 

The woman behind the desk looked confused. "Are you having a costume party? Well, who are you looking for?" 

"Amycus, you tell her." 

His companion looked a bit hesitant, but still obliged. "We are looking for Ms. McLain."

"McLain, huh? One moment," the woman typed on a strange piece of machinery the wizards had no idea of. "We have only one guest under this last name. But she is a part of a concert band, and they clearly said that they accept no visitors." 

"What floor is she on? And what apartment?" The second Death Eater asked, growling. 

"I am not allowed to tell, sir," the lady was now feeling threatened. "Please leave, or I will call secu..."

"Imperio," Amycus whispered the spell, sneakily pointing the wand from under the huge sleeves. 

The lady's look became distant and empty. "The 20th floor, apartment 2012." 

"Go on with your work," Amycus ordered as he and his comrade went towards the elevator. 

Ember lowered her head, and her face up until her nose was submerged in water. She was seeing bubbles pop at the surface of the water as she blew the air from her mouth. Chuckling slightly at her childish antic, she closed her eyes and rested, becoming all ears. The audio system in the bathroom was loud, blasting rock at the full volume. That was her idea of relaxation. However, because of that she didn't hear the ruckus in the corridors, oblivious to the security staff being knocked out one by one by a series of spells. After all, it wasn't their job to keep the wizards a secret, they could allow themselves to go all out. 

What she did hear thanks to her greater hearing, however, was someone opening the front door with a characteristic click. This snapped the singer out of her trance, alarming her greatly. Nobody had the key card but her. And whoever was out there, they were quickly approaching the bathroom. Since they used the card, she figured that those were not ghosts. Few spectres actually used doors. Dipstick was probably the only one. And if it was Dipstick, she would annihilate him on the spot for barging in uninvited. After she had specifically said that she was having a day off. Those could be freaky fanboys or fangirls, but if so, she was going to burn them to ashes just as well and throw them onto the wind. A moment later, into her small kingdom of heat and good music barged two gruffly looking men. That wasn't exactly what she had expected.

"Ever heard of knocking, dum-dums?" She was quick to dispel the assumptions of her fearing the foreign presence. 

"McLain?" 

"Yep, that's me. If you want an autograph," she put her hands behind her head, happy that her bath was bubbly. "Get it the normal way." 

"I don't think you understand the position you are in," the Death Eater said, "You assisted Phantom, did you not?" 

A look of realisation crossed Ember's face. "Oh, you are those Death Eaters guys. Great. So, what are you here for?" 

Amycus seemed to look where he wasn't supposed to. At the spots covered by soap bubbles. 

"I may just be underage, you pervert ass," the ghost threatened. 

She most certainly wasn't, but appearance-wise that was the case. 

"We need to know... where your boss hides." 

"Boss? Dipstick ain't my boss."

"A... A dipstick?" Amycus stretched his temple. He still remembered the encounter with the ghost. For her to call that powerful monster so casually...

"Yeah, 'cause he is one. I ain't telling you guys where he stays. And its not like you shitheads can do anything, he can kill you with a single look." 

"That is none of your concern," Amycus's companion pointed his wand at her. "Now. The location. Be happy that we are keeping you alive." 

"A bit late for that," she mumbled. 

"Imperio!" 

Ember kept staring at the dark wizard without any amusement. 

"You done waving your small thing around? Or should I show you the way out?" 

"What the..." the Death Eaters took a step back. "You know how to resist it." 

"In a way."

She flicked her hand, and a small gust of flames flew right at the wizards. Their robes were set on fire, causing brief panic. The Death Eaters pushed each other out of the bathroom, as they tried to quickly take off their robes. Ember waved her palm and shut the door. Sighing dejectedly, the ghost diva got out of her bath, drying herself with the power of intangibility and increased body heat. Her core was an orb of fire, after all. Ember put on a bathrobe and faced the Death Eaters again, nonchalantly combing her long blue hair. 

"You still here?" 

The wizards quickly got up and pointed their wands at her. 

"Oh, Merlin, are you like him?" Amycus mumbled, and his body betrayed him. He was shaking like a leaf.

Confused, Ember turned towards the Death Eater and away from the mirror. 

"Like Phantom? Nah, this guy is one of a kind. Well, only two of their kind exist, the shmucks," she rolled her eyes, which started to glow brighter. The girl picked up her guitar. 

"Only two ghosts like him? Who is the second?" 

"He ain't a ghost. He is a mistake of nature that found true immortality. But that's not something you should concern your little mortal heads with."

A vicious smirk crossed the girl's features as she finished attuning her guitar. The wizards saw this perfectly.

"How are you doing, Chiara?" Asked Danny, taking a gulp from his mug. The newest waitress of the Leaking Cauldron shrugged. 

"Pretty nice. It beats having to pickpocket."

"You aren't really good at the thieving stuff." 

The young woman narrowed her eyes. "If it was someone normal," she picked up his plate. "I would have got away with it. But you are anything but, aren't you, Fenton?" The young woman smiled. 

Danny chuckled as Chiara carried away the empty dishes. His weekend trip to London was proceeding as usual. He would have lunch in the Cauldron and then go buy some more ectoplasm for his research. The young man was satisfied with the pace he and Severus had. Eventually there must have been something that got ectoplasm the way he wanted. And they were steadily burning through the materials, crossing out more and more ingredients. His students also showed good results during the test, which was a reassurance to the young professor that he taught them well. He would continue being an educator till the end of the year with the same vigour and pride. Danny also started receiving enough publicity to be recognised. Here and there he heard rumours and whispers as he passed. People were confused as to how a man as young as him could defeat an established auror. The professor only hoped that he didn't ruin the man's reputation. Columbo didn't stand a chance to begin with.

His other enterprise was steadily growing, too. Phantom planned to make a proper team before January, when he planned to make a grand statement at Voldemort's expense. He got several ghosts under his command, as well as several more or less capable wizards from the Welsh ghetto. That was hardly enough to start a proper revolution. The Ministry of Magic was well defended, and to avoid bloodshed, he needed to be at an advantage. To be superior in terms of numbers, strength, whilst having an element of surprise. Danny needed to think that plan through. And for that he could use a map of the Ministry's long-spanning corridors, its twists and turns. Sadly, it was not something one could casually buy. Nobody needed them but the workers and the visitors of the place, and the maps were plastered there, not just given away in a form of brochures. There would be a time to cover that aspect. As long as he knew what was located at that one room, his plan was destined for a success. He just needed a way to find it quick enough. 

Paying for the bill, Danny turned to leave for the Alley, but then he got called out by Chiara. 

"Wait, Danny!"

The werewolf quickly approached him and smirked. 

"I'm tagging along. I'm going on the lunch break myself." 

Danny blinked. "Alright... but why?"

Chiara shrugged. "Dunno. Guess I just want to know what our brooding professor is up to." 

"I am not brooding," he rolled his ice-blue eyes. "I just have a lot on my mind, is all." 

"Yes, you are," she poked him on the cheek and started to whisper. "In any case, you said you were gonna buy some ingredients, right? The same place, I assume?" 

"Yep. That guy is the only one who sells ectoplasm as cheap," Danny responded as they exited the tavern. "Since you decided to tag along, mind moving away this wall?" 

"What happened to the powerful wizard-professor?" 

"Flash news, I don't have a wand. Now please, do me a kindness."

Chiara stared at him in surprise. To pull all of that off without a wand he must have been extremely talented. Dangerous, too. The werewolf tapped on the wall with her wand in several key places, making it move away on its own and once again revealing the wizarding equivalent of Westfield. Danny thanked Chiara and went forward, with her following close behind. The man now was extremely cautious of the crowds, since his face was now recognisable. Still, with the sneakiness he had mastered over the years, he eventually slipped into the Nockturn alley, Chiara following close second, a bit amused by the professor's attempts to remain out of sight. If only his students were there to see it. Still, they both missed a small, insignificant man that was right behind them the whole time. Mundungus had that aura that seemed to make everyone forget that he exists.

Once in the shadowy part of the area, Danny dropped his attempt to hide, for everyone present was probably in the same position as him. Under all circumstances he would stick out in his shirt and jeans. Chiara too, wasn't the most discreet person, wearing her gray sweater and pants. As the two were nearing the shop, Danny started getting suspicious. It was awfully quiet even for a Nockturn alley, the observation of which he inevitably shared with the werewolf. 

"Why do you think it is so?" She asked. 

"I have that nasty feeling of being watched," Danny responded, his eyes darting around. Finding nobody near, the young man had to force himself to go further.

"Maybe you are just paranoid? I mean, this is Knockturn alley."

"Which I visited multiple times without getting this feeling. My instincts don't fail me. Usually. Saved my butt in a pinch, too. Anyways, we are here. Now make a serious face. We are shady people, too." 

Chiara rolled her eyes. "I take it you brought a creepy robe, too..."

When the werewolf turned to the professor, he was already putting one on. "Where did you even hide it?"

"Ha! Hiding big objects within our reach is a Fenton family secret. Now hush." 

When Danny and Chiara entered the store, something immediately felt amiss, and it wasn't just the owner. The half ghost remained on guard, wondering what exactly was going on ever since he entered the alley. As usual, the teen rang the bell in hopes of Borgin coming out of whatever hiding hole he had been occupying. When nobody even bothered to respond, Danny's concern was multiplied. Borgin of all people would not leave his shop without locking the door first. His metaphorical spider sense tingled loudly when he finally heard the movement behind the stacked shelves. And then there was the click of a locked door. Both visitors looked that way, and the unmistakable appearance of a Death Eater put everything into place. 

"What was that about my paranoia?" Asked Danny. 

"Mr. Fenton, I presume?" The Death Eater asked. 

At the same time, two other dark wizards showed up in another end of the shop. 

"Yep," Danny responded without missing a heartbeat. "What did you to Borgin, I wonder? He wouldn't have let his shop get destroyed during the fight."

"Maybe he is out of commission," another Death Eater hissed. 

"Borgin? Please, all that guy needs is a couple of coins. Surely you must have picked the easier approach."

"Fenton," Chiara whispered. "What's the plan? They got the exit." 

"We'll get to ya, little werewolf. Even though you aren't a part of our plan, we take no witnesses." 

Danny glared at the man. "Your problem is with me, right? What even is the point of attacking me in broad daylight?" 

"The Dark Lord wishes to chat with you."

"Is it about the Horcrux? Yeah, I crushed it, end of story. If that's all he needed to know, then both sides must be satisfied."

"Hor... the hell are you on about?" 

"Oh? So is there any other reason?" 

"Enough! We are taking you with us, brats." 

Danny smirked. "You didn't do your homework, did you? Normally I would punish for that," he whispered, before his blue eyes started to glow. 

Mundungus was nervously pacing around right outside the store. He had seen the Death Eater come in whilst he was hiding behind a corner. His job was to observe the professor, not get involved in a fight. But what if something happened? Of course they would blame the stupid 'Dungus. But the boy was supposedly strong, he probably wouldn't have to get involved. The boy was on guard this whole time, right? He still walked into that trap. Mundungus needed to come in and assist. But the door was locked, wasn't it? Yeah, he wasn't supposed to enter. There was Alohomora, though. He could open that lock whenever he wanted, unlike the wandless boy-professor. But there was that werewolf girl with him, she must have had her wand...

Before the wizard's train of thoughts could make another circle, he heard the ground shaking. And then, right after this, from inside the shop burst an enormous glacier. Mundungus jumped away in fright. The wall of ice completely blocked the passage, and the small wizard could see a Death Eater pinned down by the colossal structure, frozen all over. 

"What in Merlin's name..." 

Chiara jumped behind the counter, as Danny held up his shield against a barrage of spells. 

"You people are the same whenever I go," the professor complained. "Your stance is all over the place, henchman number two!" 

"Don't call me that! Stupefy!" 

As the spell bounced off the barrier, Danny rolled his eyes. 

"No, pal. You are number one, your stance is okay. Your pal, however..."

While he was talking, Chiara peeked from under the counter and fired a spell at the ignorant wizard. The spell hit the henchman number one who presumed to be number two dead on and petrified him. Danny noticed this and smirked. 

"Paying attention is the second lesson." 

The half ghost removed the barrier and focused on the second wizard. Dodging several spells with astonishing speed, he narrowed the distance between them, swiped his leg to throw the man off balance, before hitting the falling wizard on his way down. The force behind the hit pinned the Death Eater to the ground and caused several planks to break. 

"All in all, you get a 'T', gentlemen," he concluded. 

"I never signed up for this, Fenton!" Chiara raised her voice, adrenaline still in her veins. 

"It's you who chose to tag along," Danny shrugged, crouching near the unconscious enemy. He removed the mask broken after his punch and examined the man's bloody face. "I don't recognise this one." 

"What do you mean, 'recognise'?" 

"I have done MY homework," The professor smirked. "I chose to keep tabs on the Death Eaters that are still at large," he explained. "But all I have to go by are the Dark Lord's old accomplices, so the profile list is incomplete. Sorry for bringing you into this mess, they were probably on the hunt for me in particular."

"So you are actually working with Dumbledore now?" 

"Not exactly. I already gave this rundown, but basically, I don't agree with how slow Dumbledore is. I act without his knowledge and am thus more effective..."

Suddenly, a tune sounded from inside Danny's pocket, saying something along the lines of 'I hate the world today'. Chiara watched how the teen took his small phone out and answered.

"'Ello," Ember's voice sounded from the receiving end.

"Em. What did you do."

"Alright, I'll tell you... but you can't be mad at me."

"What. Did you do," Danny's voice turned serious.

"Okay, first of all. I was minding my own business..."

"Bullshit!" 

"I waaaas!" Ember moaned. "So here I was, chillaxing in my bathtub like a baller. And then a couple of those Death Eaters shmucks break my door, saying 'Duh, you McLain?'" She made the dumbest voice possible. "I politely asked them to go away, but those neanderthals didn't leave...  They were like 'On your knees!' And I was like 'I am not your momma last night!'... And they took exception to that. But you know how this song goes, I captured one of them."

"And the other?"

"Pussed out like a bitch! He just ran off in that little cloud! And I shot that fucker down! He fell down and probably died. I dunno." 

"Language, please," Phantom sighed and rubbed his temples. "Funnily enough, I was attacked just now by the guys, too," he turned to his companion, "Chiara, check up on the third one, I'll melt the ice."

He moved his palm, and to the werewolf girl's shock, the glacier melted in an instant, becoming a single puddle. The way out was now free. It was also obviously a request for her to give the man some privacy.

"Who is that?" Ember asked.

"Oh, it's just a girl that tagged along for my shopping trip. Don't mind her, she has left."

"Just a girl?"

"Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

"N-nothing! So," Ember laughed nervously, "Did they find out about you?"

"No, I think they hunted me as a teacher. They only addressed me by my last name. You were probably attacked before you are popular and you partook in our party-pooping expedition." 

"Don't pretend like it's a-okay. I never planned to be pestered by some stupid cult or whatever those are."

"More like nazi with magical sticks," Danny snorted. "Don't worry. We won't be seeing much of them in the future."

"Why?" 

"Because Voldemort will realise that a small capture party won't suffice at all. He can't spare more goons at the moment, because he has Dumbledore to worry about, too. Death Eaters are about influence and money, not numbers. That's why they are trying to enlist more people to their aid. Despite their obvious distaste. Just throwing soldiers at us in hopes of a different result will be pointless and only will dwindle their numbers. By the way, what about the second one who attacked you?" 

"He is sitting still, drooling at me."

"Oh, you brainwashed him."

"Yep. Same stuff I almost did to you."

"Need I remind you how it ended?" 

"Th-that was stupid even for you!" 

"Come now. Didn't you expect your fan to kiss his object of adoration?" Danny switched on his bantering mode. "I broke the hearts of so many."

"Shut up or I'll tune up the fire so much your own damn core melts into a puddle."

"You have already melted it with your kindness," Danny whispered dramatically. "In any case. We don't detract from our plans. Since that Death Eater is your puppet now, you can send him back. Having a spy in their midst will be pretty useful. He won't be behaving strangely, will he?"

"I can order him to keep quiet about me. Although I can't guarantee that that Dark Lord won't spray the dude's brains over the wall for failing."

"That is a possibility. But we still got to try, since we obviously don't lose anything anyhow. I'll be in touch. Oh, and Ember. Good job." 

"I don't need your compliments, dipstick."

And then the diva hang up. Danny sighed and grabbed the two Death Eaters, dragging them out to the street by the collars of their cloaks. Chiara was already standing there over the third one. The half ghost worriedly looked over the man covered in frostbites. 

"Is he still alive?" He asked.

"Yeah. Still kicking," Chiara responded. "So, do we call the aurors or..." 

"I believe they will show up eventually. I don't like extra publicity, so we should probably leave."

"Good idea," the werewolf nodded. 

As the two were leaving the scene of crime, the conversation soon resumed. 

"Chiara..."

"What?" 

"Sorry again for dragging you into this. I told it by phone already, but I don't think they will go after you. If they multiplied that chain of vengeances, they would have nothing done." 

"If you say so. What's your game, Fenton?" 

The young professor smirked. "I don't think you are up for a lecture. All you need to know is that I will do my best to rid the world of this menace."

"And how exactly are you planning to do this?" 

"Well... for that I will need to finish my little project first. As well as to find where Voldemort hides his little artefacts."

"That's easier said than done."

"I have my trail, though. His previous Horcrux was inside the diadem of Ravenclaw."

"A what now?"

"Something very important to defeating the Dark Lord." 

"So you found that... thing... inside the diadem you found in Hogwarts?" 

"The news travels fast," Danny smirked. "That's it. So, I naturally assumed that this man's ego was so high that he would aim for other artefacts of the Hogwarts founders. Which are, by coincidence, also considered lost. Since Gryffindor's sword keeps being summoned by people other than Voldemort, then it must have been untrustworthy. So I put it out of the equation. That leaves two more." 

"One of them must be Hufflepuff's cup. I used to hear a lot of stories about it when I was at Hogwarts."

"I figured as much. Hm... there must have been descendants of hers that owned the cup. Anything you can remember?" 

"I... can try and ask the people I know."

"I can't ask you to risk more than you need to, Chiara."

"The Dark Lord already attacked me. The least I can do is to help you on your insane quest, Fenton." 

Danny smiled at this. Badgers always were known to be empathetic folk. 

Being a member of the staff at Hogwarts had certain obligations as one might have seen. Aside from the normal duties, such as guiding the kids on their Hogsmeade trips and stalking the nightly hallways for rule breakers, there were also things that were not obligatory, but highly encouraged, such as establishing a cooperative bond between the teachers. Snape obviously was an example of how not to do this. Danny, however, wanted to be on friendly terms with every member of the staff, despite the latter's suspicious nature. He simply remembered the advice Flitwick gave him. As long as he did his best and kept smiling, it did not matter what others thought of him. Could be a manipulation, could be not, but the young man was willing to do just that. He may have jested at the expense of Severus or Filch, but it was all in good nature. 

So, when Grubbly-Plank left, only to be replaced by the guy who was supposed to be there from the start, Danny decided to pay a visit to the rock shack inhabited by a half-giant Hagrid. That was his name, as others told him. It was a cold Sunday morning. Furthermore, it appeared that in Scotland the snow fell pretty early. The young man didn't bother putting on many proper clothes as usual. He only donned a black sweater and taller boots, so that the snow didn't get inside. The hut where Hagrid lived was rather unsightly, but the young man could see the lights inside, and a thin trail of smoke coming from the chimney. It looked cozy in the dim autumn morning. Danny approached the front door and knocked on it lightly.

"Comin', comin'," a low voice sounded from behind. 

Soon the door was opened, and Danny then was greeted by a man worthy of his giant heritage. The burly person dressed in a fur overcoat towered over the professor. The long shaggy raven hair, coupled with the density of his bear, almost hid the man's face. Danny assumed there was a smile. 

"Oh, 'ello there. Never seen yeh before." 

Danny smiled in return. "Good morning! I am Danny Fenton, the Defence professor," he outstretched his hand.

Hagrid eagerly enveloped Fenton's palm in his gigantic one and shook it. 

"Pleasure to know yeh. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, teh local Caretaker." 

"And the professor of Creatures Care," Danny nodded. "The pleasure is all mine." 

"Come on in, I 'ave some tea ready," the man invited the guest inside, obviously happy to receive a visitor. 

The young professor decided to take the man on his offer, especially since he hadn't had breakfast that morning. On the inside the place was homy and warm, but the young man could see that the giant had a bit of trouble moving around, even if the shack was spacier than most Hogwarts rooms. He just sat on a chair and watched the caretaker fuss around the kettle. Suddenly, a huge black dog approached Danny and nudged his knee lightly. The young man smiled and scratched behind the dog's ears, earning a satisfied whine. 

"Ha, Fang seems to like yeh," Hagrid commented, putting two cups on the table. He sat on an armchair nearby and started pouring the tea. 

"Well, I was called a dog person a lot," Danny chuckled.

"Pretty youn', aren' yeh?"

Danny took a sip of tea. It had a strange taste, but he had worse. 

"I am twenty. But I've seen no complaints about my teaching methods."

"Lucky. I still get some thin's wrong," Hagrid mumbled, drinking the tea from his giant cup. "Yer pretty brave, takin' a job like that. Nobody else did." 

"I wouldn't say that," Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, it's not that dangerous. And I was desperate for some income. All these things combined and I am here..."

The young man then noticed something odd about the caretaker. On what could be seen of his face, the professor observed a network of small bruises. Small, but no less ghastly looking. 

"Ancients, your face looks like a cat scratch toy, man. What happened?"

"I...fell."

That was the most blatant and obvious lie he had ever heard. Hagrid coughed and straightened up.

"Fancy rock cakes?" He asked.

"That will be nice," Danny smiled slightly. 

The caretaker removed a tissue that was over a plate in the middle of the table. There the half-ghost saw the rock cakes. More 'rock' than 'cakes'. Not wishing to offend the man, Danny tried to take a bite, but unsurprisingly his teeth were hitting something very solid. Still, he decided to just dip the cake in the tea like he had seen the Brits do with hard biscuits. It softened up somewhat, and became edible. Despite being hard as nails, the cakes were still tasty. 

"Anyways, I'm sure this is a matter of practice," The young man continued. "I guess I'm not the one to talk, though. You had this job longer than me."

"Yer right, but yeh got it on the firs' try, didn' yeh?" 

"I wouldn't say that... I may have hid it, but I was quite nervous. I just did what I always do when I'm nervous or scared — laugh about it. My sister used to say that this is my coping mechanism."

"I don' think 'tis will work for me," Hagrid sighed. 

Danny decided not to press. "So, you were absent when the year began, and Dumbledore never told me why. Is this too personal to ask?"

"Oh, I, eh... I was seein' my family."

"Which side? The giant or human one?" 

"It was my momma's... I probably shouldn't have said it," Hagrid whispered. 

"What was that?" Danny asked, despite hearing it perfectly. 

"Nuthin', nuthin'. Ehm... I heard there is that Ministry lady."

"An Inquisitor in pink? What about her?" The half ghost decided to take the bait and follow the flow of the misdirected conversation. 

To the half-ghost it was obvious that the man was an agent of Dumbledore's. He didn't expect to fish out anything of substance, neither was it his intention. The old man and him were on the same side. Well, more like they had a common enemy in the face of Voldemort. There was not any need for them to act against each other. However, Dumbledore didn't know that, and the teen couldn't just come and explain everything. Besides, there was still a grudge for suspecting the young man of something vile. 

"She is checkin' the teachers, right? I was meanin' to ask ya, 'cause I heard people talkin'."

"Yep," Danny was snapped out of his thoughts. "This stickler won't miss the party, so I guess you should be ready for it."

"I reckon you aren't on good terms."

"You kidding?" Fenton snorted. "Everyone here know that she hates my guts, and I hate hers. But you shouldn't worry too much. I mean, I am still around despite this, right? She has no reason to sack you if you simply teach."

"How's it like?" 

"Well, this woman has no understanding of personal space or courtesy. She usually tries to dig up some dirt and ruin the lesson by distracting you."

"Oh, that's bad..."

"Just keep your cool, pal," Danny leaned back in his seat. "And you will be fine. Umbridge won't be as picky with your subject, because you didn't take it from her, it  also does not pose threat to her posh cabinet in the Ministry. It's me who supposedly trains a secret army of kids."

He purposefully omitted her bigotry and obvious distaste to anything but pure and wizardly. There was no point in scaring the welcoming half-giant. He might have needed some heads-up in this regard, but the half-ghost still decided against it. The conversation between two not-so-much-humans lasted for another half an hour, and Danny supposed that the deed was done and he managed to properly acquaint himself with the caretaker. It wasn't difficult, since Hagrid was a very approachable person. Phantom himself enjoyed the company and free rock cakes, a bit stale they may have been. His stomach had dissolved much worser things. In the end Danny agreed to help the caretaker with his duty later that evening, since Hagrid had also come to learn about Thestrals liking him a lot. Phantom was surprised that the man was going to touch upon the subject so early on, but he wasn't the one to judge someone's methods. 

Satisfied with himself, the professor was slowly returning to the castle, oh so anxious to grade another set of homework. He liked that job, but it was still a pain to grade the students. Danny didn't like the prospect of being hated by some students who deemed his grading biased or unjust. Then again, with his supplier of ectoplasm out of business for some time, there was little Danny could do at the moment. The experiments hit their dead end for a time, until he found a new seller. Danny didn't exactly have any hobbies to speak of, almost all his spare time was spent on tireless experiments, because Phantom wanted to finish his project. When the catalyst was finished, he could finally leave that world for the one that was supposedly his to reign over. At least there he would have a home of his own. 

As the professor was crossing the wooden bridge, he came across a person with whom he had already met on a morning like that. Danny was surprised to see Potter of all the people, standing alone near the bridge railing, looking exceptionally dour. Curious, the half-ghost approached the teen. 

"Good morning, Harry," Danny smiled. "Up so early on Sunday?" 

"Professor... I was just going to watch a Quidditch practice." 

Danny raised an eyebrow at that. "Just watch?"

"Right, you probably didn't hear that. I was forbidden from being a seeker for my team." 

"Forbidden? For what?" 

"It's Malfoy. The git provoked me, Fred and George. And then out of nowhere that toad appeared!"

Fenton sighed. Every piece of news like that was the fault of only one person around. 

"Nothing we can do about it, I suppose," he crossed his hands. "But you probably should have known better. You've known the guy for five years by now, right?"

"Yes," Harry muttered. Danny realised that he would interpret everything he was going to say into a moralising lecture. 

"Well, I don't think that it will last forever..."

"The toad specifically said that it was a lifetime ban," the teen growled. 

"She still has all the charm of an amphibia," Danny whispered. "But as I said, I don't think it will last forever. Umbridge will leave eventually."

"Yeah, and how long will it take? I may graduate, and she would still be there." 

"These are the times when things happen too quickly. I mean, a year ago Voldemort was still kinda dead." 

"Kinda?" 

"People don't come back from the dead, Harry. He was put out of commission, but the vile rituals helped him recover."

"You are now talking with confidence, sir."

"Yeah. I have my reasons to believe this without any doubt."

"Did you speak to Dumbledore about that?" 

"You sound surprised."

Harry lowered his gaze. "He just... I've been feeling like he is avoiding me since Voldemort came back."

He didn't know why, but the teen felt like sharing this with the professor. Danny nodded slowly and looked around. 

"Well, you won't be surprised to know that he doesn't trust me enough, either," he crossed his hands. "The old man thinks he is so sneaky, while he is sitting on his ass doing nothing but spying on me." 

"Spying on you?" Harry asked in surprise. 

"Yep. Severus works with me and then reports to Dumbledore. It's almost like they take me for an idiot," he said, sounding like he was actually wondering if that was true. "I pretty much got over it, it's not like their prying will hurt anyone. But I can see that you are angry about the lack of this attention. I hope I am not at fault."

"No, it started in the beginning of the summer. It's not your fault, sir." 

Danny chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Harry and every other student knew that it was his habit. "Jeez, I still feel old when someone calls me that. I now wonder myself why the Headmaster would ignore you. Any ideas?" 

"No clue. He even told Ron and Hermione not to write letters to me." 

"You guys could use phones. Surely Hermione knows how to use it, and the Dark Lord won't be eavesdropping." 

"I never thought about it that way," Harry slowly responded, earning himself another snicker. 

"You guys get used to magic so much, you start to forget the normal tools. Soon we will enter a new millennium, the newest devices can be of use." 

"Only that they don't work here," the teen pointed out. 

"Dumbledore probably wanted to keep some things a secret. What made you so special that you are not allowed to know, I wonder?" 

"I don't know sir," Harry shrugged. "I only know that it still pisses me off." 

Danny was genuinely curious now. If anyone was eligible for knowing the truth, it was Potter, the supposed number one target. And Phantom had expected that the boy would be more knowledgeable than most because of it. Yet, Dumbledore chose to keep Harry in the dark for whatever reason. That wasn't a proper approach in his opinion. Danny preferred to share the knowledge with his subordinates, lest they did something foolish or got trapped. Something told the half-ghost that all of the Harry's exploits were also due to that. The old man did nothing when there was a Basilisk. The professor knew not of any other cases, but that alone was enough to undermine the man's trust of what Dumbledore was doing. 

"This isn't the first time he is hiding things from you, is it?" 

"I suppose. He never told me about Si..."

The boy quickly shut up. "Nevermind."

Danny's look softened, "Well, let's not dwell on it too much. Thank you for sharing this with me, Harry."

"Thanks for listening, I guess."