Disclaimer: Danny Phantom and Harry Potter belong to their respective creators. Not me.

Warnings: This story contains character death and there is a possibility of slash (boy x boy relations) in future chapters.

Ok, so I decided to try my hand at fanfiction. I know, scary huh? I know there are lots of DP/HP crossovers floating around already, but I wanted to see what I could do with it. I have no idea where it's going right now. I kinda just sat down and started writing… I might try to work in some slash later if I end up going anywhere with this. Well, if I haven't scared you off by now, then please, read on!~

Chapter 1: A Beautiful Night

It had been such a beautiful night. Really it had. The sky was so clear and the stars were all shining so brightly, accentuating a semi-full, yet luminous moon. The winds were calm and fairly cool for being late summer. It would have been a perfect night to go flying, to cast off his every day worries and just drift for a while. The ghosts had even been laying off him lately, allowing the free time to indulge in such a care free past time. Danny should have known that something bad was going to happen. That was the way of things. Just his luck it seemed. Sometimes he thought he just wasn't meant to be happy since every time he came close to being content with his life, something happened to screw it all up. No one could have predicted, however, that things would go quite as badly as they had.

Thinking back on it, Danny wondered if there had been anything he could have done to prevent what had happened. Perhaps if he'd been more observant, perhaps if he'd been faster or stronger or perhaps if he'd simply been somewhere else at the time… Perhaps if he'd just done something or been something different… Then they'd still be alive.

Tears mixed with the blood running down his face, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He ducked down behind some greenery beside some stair off of someone's front porch, wedging himself into the small space and hoping the shadows would conceal him well enough as he tried desperately to catch his breath. He couldn't stay in one place for very long. If he did, then they'd find him. He wasn't sure how they kept finding him, but they did. He shifted, getting ready to bolt for the next hidey hole he could find.

A loud crack sounded through the air on the street just beyond his current hiding spot, causing him to still and press himself back to his original position. His breath froze in his lungs and he could swear even his heart ceased it's beating for a moment, so still was the silence. They'd found him again. He'd lingered here too long. A tremor coursed through his deceptively small frame as he snuck a glance through the branches that hid him from sight. The night was well lit by the moon and stars, illuminating the street in a pale glow. He could easily see three figures standing in the road, cloaked in black robes and faces hidden by white masks. It was impossible to tell age or gender without hearing them speak, but one thing had become very clear from the get go. These people were not ghosts. They lacked the distinctive glow of all things ectoplasmic and, if Danny were capable of using his powers just then, he knew that his ghost sense would be woefully inactive.

These people had come from seemingly nowhere, attacking anyone who saw them with long sticks that spouted deadly lights of varying colors and saying very little aside from the shouts that initiated their attacks. He'd tried to fight them. He'd managed to do very little, however, before they'd struck him with something that had seemed to completely short out his powers. Try as he might he just couldn't get a grasp on that cold power in the back of his chest that he associated with his ghost half. It was still there, he could feel it, but there was something separating him from it, something preventing him from making contact with it. He'd been completely helpless then. Completely helpless as those people had begun attacking those around him.

Tucker had fallen first, taking a hit from a green blast as they'd been running away. Danny and Sam had immediately turned back to pick him up and continue running. They'd managed to make it to Fentonworks, thinking to arm themselves with whatever they could from the weapons vault, before they'd realized he was dead. A chill had taken over his body then. He vaguely recalled hearing Sam scream. The world seemed to move in slow motion as he struggled to take in the fact that his best friend was gone, taken away from him by some strange men with their weird sticks.

Everything had gone to hell after that. Jazz and his parents had woken up, rushing downstairs to see what all the screaming was about. Danny hadn't known what to say to them, couldn't explain the dead boy on their living room floor, the boy that Danny had known for most of his life that was now cold and still right in front of them. He could only stare at them in numb horror as they tried to figure out what was going on. Sam was still freaking out, though she'd stopped screaming by then. Then the door had exploded open, taking everyone by surprise. The ensuing battle had been short, scales tipped in favor of the masked people by the brief moment of confusion upon their entry. Danny had fought, but he hadn't been good enough. He hadn't been strong enough or fast enough. And, as a result, people had died. People he loved had died.

Jazz, ever the intelligent one, had figured out what they were after in that brief scuffle, having heard something or inferred something about the enemy's actions, and had grabbed Danny and ran, leaving behind the bodies of their parents and Danny's two closest friends. It boggled Danny's mind that his sister could keep such a level head in this situation when he was trying so hard to keep it together and failing miserably, but one look at her face told him that she wasn't as together as she was pretending to be. The only reason she hadn't broken down completely was because she was pushing her protectiveness over her little brother to its limits. Jazz Fenton couldn't afford to fall apart when there were murdering psychopaths after her baby brother.

They hadn't come out of it unscathed. Jazz was favoring her right leg and Danny had taken a hit to the head. They hadn't managed to grab a single weapon before they'd fled the house. There was no plan besides simply trying to put as much distance between themselves and the black robed, white masked crazies. What could they possibly do besides run? Danny was without his powers and fighting off nausea from what had to be a concussion, inflicted when he'd been knocked back into the heavy coffee table in their now devastated living room. He wasn't sure what had happened to Jazz's leg but she wasn't moving as quickly as he knew she should have been able to and he had no doubt that if it came to a fight she would be so much dead meat. He'd needed to get it together. He'd needed to protect his sister. He'd needed to protect his town. If these people were after him, then there was only one thing he could think to do.

He'd acted before he had the chance to second guess himself, striking at his sister's head with a determined fist. She'd crumpled to the ground, unconscious, cut off in the middle of her hurried, muttering as she'd tried futilely to form a plan of escape. If she wasn't with him, he rationalized, then she would be safe. He'd already lost everyone else. He couldn't lose her too. She was all that mattered now. Quickly, he'd tugged her over to what he'd deemed a safe enough hiding place amongst some bushes in the park. He'd given her a last, lingering hug and a short kiss to the top of her head, whispering apologies before he'd forced himself away from her. She would be safe there, safe from the people who were out to get him. He didn't have much hope of actually getting away from them, but he had to try. For his sister, he had to try.

And try he had, but it seemed like he was only playing some twisted game of cat and mouse. The only plan he'd had was to avoid other people, but he'd failed at even that. He'd been corralled somehow at every turn, pushing him into what he knew to be a trap. When he hid, they'd find him. When he ran, they'd fire on him, caring nothing for the homes that were destroyed along the way. Hope was being leached away with every casualty that was the direct result of nothing more than his presence.

Which brought him to where he was now, trembling in his hiding place with both fear and exhaustion, staring out at three members of the group of murderers who were after him, murderers who had taken his power, his friends, and his family away from him for some unknown goal. His fists clenched, short nails biting into the skin of his palms and his shaking grew more pronounced with his anger. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth ground together. He wanted so badly to fight, but he was powerless. They would take him down before he even got close enough to strike. He choked on a frustrated sob, the dry raspy noise immediately drawing the attention of one of the black robed people, it's white masked face jerking to look in the direction of Danny's hiding place. The boy's eyes blew wide and his hands covered his mouth, horrified that he may have given away his hiding place.

"Stop your running, boy. Make this easier on yourself." The voice was not one he recognized. It was masculine, that of a middle aged man. The voice was smooth as silk and cold. Though the voice itself was unfamiliar, it held a condescending note to it that reminded him heavily of Vlad.

The man who'd spoken took slow, measured steps towards Danny, the scuffing of hard soled shoes on pavement going quiet as he came to the grass of the yard between them. Danny's heart thudded painfully in his chest, it's normally slow rhythm picking up to a pace he hadn't felt since he'd been fully alive. In that moment he knew that he was going to be caught. He knew that he was not going to be able to get away from the encounter this time. What the hell had come over him to think wedging himself into a corner was a good idea? Even if just to hide? Well, if he was going down, then he was going down fighting. The moment that man came within his range he would attack. Even if all he would accomplish would be to bloody the bastard's nose, it would be worth it.

Eyes narrowing in fearful determination he slowly tensed and quietly shifted into a fighting position. Just a few more steps now. The man was raising that stick of his. Would Danny be able to move quickly enough before the man got off a shot? Well, there was only one way to find out.

Danny was moments away from leaping at his attacker when a sudden loud crack rent the air a second time in that area. There were suddenly three more people on the scene. They weren't wearing the black robes or white masks that the others were, but the wielded the same sticks. The black robed people were slow to react and it was just enough to give the newcomers the edge as a battle broke out. Danny took this opportunity to dart out of his hiding spot to try to get away. A hand caught at the back of his t-shirt, jerking him to a stop before he heard yet another loud crack and then he felt the strangest sensation of being forced through a narrow tube. It felt like his nose was touching the back of his head and his own elbow was jammed against the back of his knee.

The world came back into sharp focus a moment later and he fell to the ground gasping. That had to have been the oddest thing he had ever felt, and he had once sprouted several heads and strange limbs from his shoulder!

"Come along young man! We must hurry!" A slightly hoarse sounding voice urgently called from his side as a hand once again jerked him around by his shirt, this time jerking him to his feet. A quick glance told Danny that this man was not one of the robed men. He looked fairly scruffy and all together too worn and almost ill looking to be exhibiting the strength that he was. His hair was a dirty brown color with the moonlight catching at more than a few silvering hairs. His clothes were dirty and patched. All in all he could have easily been mistaken as some random homeless man on a street corner somewhere. All he needed was a cardboard sign.

"W-what's going on? Who are you people? Who were those creeps in the black robes?" He stuttered out his questions jerkily as he was tugged along. It was getting a little irritating how this guy kept manhandling him. He was pretty sure it was better than what the black robed guys would have done, though, he was sure, so he didn't comment on it, simply trying to keep up so he wouldn't be dragged.

"Now's not the time, lad," the man muttered, hurrying up a set of steps to what looked like a pretty broken down house in one of the more destitute areas of Amity Park. "We must get you to safety first. There will be time enough for questions later."

"So you're here to help me then? Where were you half an hour ago when you would have actually done some good?!" Danny shouted, ignoring the man's efforts to shush him as he began to struggle to get out of his grasp. "My mom! My dad! My friends! They're all dead!" With a violent jerk he managed to tear himself away from the older man, stumbling back against a dust covered wall as tears sprung anew to his already red and puffy eyes.

The man looked torn, an expression of such heartfelt sadness on his haggard face that Danny couldn't help but feel some of his anger drain away.

"I'm so sorry, but we really must go." He insisted, but made no move to grab at the distraught boy again. "Those men are after you. If we don't leave immediately then they will be upon us within moments. They've placed a tracking spell on you and we must get it removed as quickly as we can."

He ignored the stab of pain at the reminder that those men were here for him. That this was all his fault. That people were dead because...

"A s-spell?" Danny asked in confusion, shoving his other thoughts aside to be dealt with later. The only experience he'd ever had with magic was his encounters with Desiree, but she was a ghost! People couldn't use magic… Could they?

"As I said, now is not the time nor the place for questions. If you would please come with me? Quickly now!" The man offered his hand, voice laced with urgency and eyes pleading for Danny to accept his help.

"What about my sister?" Danny asked hopefully, not wanting to leave her behind if help was being offered.

"We'll send someone to look for her, but it is you they are after. It is you who must get to safety right now."

Danny hesitated only a moment more before reaching out to take the larger hand with his slightly smaller one. Immediately he was pulled further into the house until they reached what seemed to be the living room. He was led over to the large fire place where the man pulled a small pouch out of his pocket. He reached into it for a bit of what looked like some sort of dust or powder before throwing the powder into the fire place with a jerky motion. Danny flinched back as green fire erupted in the fireplace. The man made to step into the flames and Danny jerked back.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, alarmed.

"Please, just trust me. It won't burn you." The man answered, tugging insistently again just as a loud crack sounded from outside. Danny's eyes darted fearfully towards the sound then back towards the green fire in front of him. He took a deep, steadying breath.

"Ok, yeah, sure. Whatever you say dude." He responded before quickly stepping forward along side the older man.

The next few minutes were spent, for lack of a better term, fire place hopping. The strange man had said something about floo networks being monitored and confusing the tracking spell, or something like that, in way of explanation. Eventually they'd come to yet another run down looking house where they'd found an old glove resting on the only piece of furniture there, an old, dusty coffee table. When they'd picked it up the man had muttered something before there was a strange jerking sensation felt around the area of his belly button. Danny thought he was going to be sick. For the second time that night he found himself falling to his knees after a very strange ride.

"Maniacs with magic killing sticks, fire that doesn't burn, and now old gloves that teleport you and make you want to throw up…" Danny muttered, holding his heaving stomach weakly as he slowly climbed to his feet. "Tonight's just full of wonderful surprises, isn't it…" Sarcasm. Wonderful coping mechanism.

"I've one more surprise for you I'm afraid." The man said with an apologetic look and held out a piece of paper. "I need you to read this over, then I need to to think about it."

Danny took the paper. It read The Order of the Phoenix can be found at number 12 Grimauld Place, London. He looked up at the building before him numbered eleven and thirteen. "But there is no-… Wait, I'm in London?!" His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he looked over at the strange man next to him, then they bugged out even more as he noticed a building popping up out of no where and pushing numbers eleven and thirteen to either side to make room. "This is it isn't it. I've finally gone crazy. Or this is some seriously messed up dream… But I didn't think my mind was this creative." He muttered despondently as he was guided up the steps to the front door after the little piece of paper had been burned with a flick of the man's stick.

Using his magic stick once more, Danny's strange savior tapped at the front door. Several clicks and sliding noises could be heard before the door opened to allow them inside the dusty old building. Danny thought he could see a trend in the places he'd been taken to that night. The inside was dark and smelled musty. He was then led to a dimly lit room that he could just make out to be a kitchen. There was an old man sitting at the table. A really old man, Danny decided once he'd gotten a better look at him. He was wearing robes like the crazies who'd tried to kill him, but his robes were of a softer color. He couldn't be sure in this lighting but he thought it might have been light blue or lilac. The man's beard was long enough to be tucked into his belt, his nose long and slightly crooked beneath a pair of half moon glasses. Vivid blue eyes shone from beneath bushy white eyebrows kindly.

"Hello, you must be the young man the death eaters were so anxious to apprehend. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Lets see to that little tracking spell and then I'm sure you have some questions for me."

And the night had been so beautiful to start with…

So? What do you think? Ok for a first try? So terrible you want to smack me? While I would prefer you not outright insult me (I'm kinda sensitive) I would love to hear your opinion! I'm aware that my writing style leaves a bit to be desired, but I won't learn if I don't put myself out there and gather some critique, right? If anyone wants to see a second chapter to this, please tell me. If anyone has any ideas for where this could possibly go, I'd love to hear those too! And if there are any slash pairings you'd really like to see, I'll take that into account as well. I'm leaning towards one pairing in particular at the moment, but I'm not really set on it yet.