A Most Peculiar Phantom

Summary: When Danny hears of kind ghosts that are having their home threatened, and he needs a break from his own- he travels to help them. However, Danny finds himself in a world even stranger to him than the Ghost Zone, and he fears he may be in over his head.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor Harry Potter- the belong to Butch Hartman and JK Rowling respectively. This disclaimer will apply to the entire story.

For this Chapter, a song I suggest is 'Cost of the Crown.'

Chapter One: A Family Friend

Princess Dorathea floated aimlessly through her castle's lonely halls, her glowing form serene and solitary. She was left completely to her thoughts, of which she had far too many. Ever since her brother had been banished from her kingdom she had been the happiest she could remember for centuries. But with that happiness came guilt- she couldn't forget the fear and pain he spurned within the kingdom, but neither could she forget the loving brother she had once known.

While he became cruel and furious in his death, she became compassionate and loving (besides the few times her cursed medallion was triggered). He hated her for that, for finding peace in her passing, and he let her know very frequently. Until Sir Phantom and Samantha Manson swooped in and gave her the courage to overcome her brothers controlling grasp, she had fretted that she would be his punching bag for all of eternity, never again free to smile and experience joy.

After the thrill of being independent wore off, the loneliness returned and rested a load upon her delicate shoulders. The responsibility of ruling her small kingdom fell to her as well, and where her brother had once taken the weight of the crown, she now felt it settling heavily upon her heart and mind. Wispy tendrils of honey blonde hair fell into her ashen green face, slightly obscuring her large scarlet eyes. Her face downturned towards the floor, she hardly noticed the subconscious path her being was taking.

She came to hover before a dark door with ornate metal working and a large knocker. Dropping lightly to her feet in an ancient sadness nearly forgotten, she faintly brushed her nimble fingers upon the aged wood. The castle she lived in was archaic, a perfect replica of the one she had once grown up in so very long ago. With the castle came her memories, both happy and sad, and this door triggered a bittersweet feeling within her heart. This door lead to her fathers study, a man who was once the king of the great kingdom, who fell ill when she was still just a young girl. A silent vow had been made between her and her brother, a promise to leave this room untouched.

When they had both awoken in the Ghost Zone, soon after a horrible plague had swept the land and claimed both their lives and many of their subjects, there had been the faintest hope in her heart, that perhaps she would find her father waiting for her, and they would be reunited once more. But in all of her time in the Ghost Zone, nearly sixteen hundred years, she had never glimpsed nor heard of her fathers arrival, past or present. She wasn't sure where it was that he went after his passing, but she still missed him terribly. She could no longer keep her promise to leave this room untouched, without her brothers familiar presence, she was withering away in loneliness. She needed her family near to her, as much so as possible. Perhaps seeing her fathers study, left the same as the day he had last set foot in it, would sooth her weary soul.

Pushing gently on the wrought iron handle, the ancient hinges wearily protested at being turned after so many years left untouched. The door swung open, squeaking loudly at its joints before lightly bumping the wall in a greeting of long lost friends. Dust flittered here and fro, illuminated by the weak ectoplasm tinted sunlight which shone upon scattered pages and aged scrolls on the large sturdy desk. The circular room was in one of the highest portions of the castle, and the wind that whispered past the turret of the tower formed a smooth melody of white noise.

Treading carefully, Dorathea inched into the room, ghosting over the floor, no pun intended. Just as she reached out her trembling hand to take one of the pieces of parchment into in her grasp a sharp intake of breath reverberated through the small room, and had she had a heart that could beat, it surely would have stopped.

"Dorathea, my little primrose, is it really you?" Tears flooded into her eyes, and she glanced up searching for the voice that shook her to the very core. At last, her scarlet eyes came to rest upon a portrait settled on the wall, depicting a man of sturdy stature, with curled blonde hair brushing his broad shoulders and viridian eyes sparkling in delight. To the princess' further astonishment, the portrait moved, a hand calloused from decades of swordsman ship reaching out to press lightly at the edge of the frame, as though touching a pane of glass. Voice trembling and breaking, she finally spoke.

"F-father?"

Danny sighed and groaned as he impacted with the ground for the third time in the last ten minutes. Skulker had struck another deal with Technus and received a slew of new and painful (for Danny) upgrades. One of them happened to be a blaster that was completely impossible to avoid with intangibility. It was Skulkers favorite to use apparently, as Danny began to lose track of the spots on his back that ached from saying hello to the ground entirely too many times.

"I shall hang your pelt upo-"

"Upon your hearth so you may gaze upon it in cold winters and remember tales of victory- YEAH I GET IT!" Danny had grown tired of the same ghosts, same town, and same insults being thrown. Skulker it seemed, had not.

"Don't interrupt me WHELP!" The half ghost teen rolled his eyes and unclipped the Fenton thermos from his belt. As Skulker took aim once again, Danny shot towards him at top speed, causing the metal shell of an ameba to widen his eyes in shock, and maybe a little fright. He dove out of the way, and was caught off guard as Danny twirled to slam his leg down on the small of his back. With a grunt he stabilized himself, but his small moment of disorientation was all it took for Danny to activate the Fenton thermos, and with a curse he felt himself being sucked into its cramped confines.

Danny smiled and let loose a small chuckle while making sure the cap was securely in place. He gave the thermos a slight shake and snickered at the disgruntled insults being muffled by the ghost catching device.

"Serves you right tin head." He clipped the thermos back onto his hip and brushed a gloved hand through his snowy locks. Grimacing as he pulled his bruised shoulder he quickly drifted to the ground and glanced around the deserted street. Seeing no witnesses, he still decided to ere on the side of caution, and he allowed himself to disappear from the visible spectrum. He'd had too many run ins with the Guys in White and their new surveillance systems to risk transforming in the open any more.

He flew leisurely towards Sam's house, as he had promised both Sam and Tucker that he would make time from his evening patrol to binge watch the 'Dead Teacher' series with them. Watching the houses steadily become nicer as he flew through the classy part of town, he slowed to a stop over one of the largest, a brightly lit victorian inspired manor. Hiding behind a tree momentarily he reverted to human form. Had he been visible, someone may have seen his brilliant white hair turning to an onyx black, and his startling eyes the color of glowing green peridots shifting to that of the clearest azure blue sky. His black and white formfitting suit would have changed as well, appearing in its place would be a casual outfit, common on any human boy. However, no one saw any of this miraculous change in a flash of white light, if anything they simply saw the black haired teen slink from out behind the tree and may have wondered 'how long was that fellow over there?'

Quickly striding up to the front door of the manor, Danny rang the chime and with his enhanced hearing he listened to the elegant jingle and sharp click-clacking footsteps that soon headed towards the door. With a click and silent swoosh, a primly dressed woman in her late thirties appeared. Sam's mother was always quite fond of pink, and her hair was always done perfectly to the highest of standards. With a slightly forced smile she waved Danny inside and called out to her daughter.

"Sammy-kins, your friend is here!" Heavy footsteps soon thudded down the stairs, and a girl shaded in blacks, greys, and violets rushed towards Danny. She threw her arms around him, and he held back a slight wince at the tight constriction of his bruised back, but returned the hug with equal vigor. A slight laugh fell from his lips.

"Hey Sam, I'm not that late am I?" The girl released him and brushed a few strands of raven black hair from her amethyst eyes. A faint blush colored her cheeks, easily noticeable due to her fair complexion. She gave him a small smile before replying.

"No, Tucks not even here yet, I just had a weird feeling…" Both teens made eye contact and their blushes grew respectively. A throat being cleared had them quickly glancing away while their cheeks flared brighter.

"Thanks mom, we'll be in the Theater, just send Tucker down when he gets here." Sam's mother stared at her daughter with a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised before sighing and nodding. She quickly turned and walked away, Danny's inhuman hearing picking up the mutter of "not your maid." The teens grinned and without speaking words, both took off towards the theatre in a race of speed and agility. Danny was gaining the upper hand, but a quick elbow to the side from Sam had him 'oofing' and her gaining the upper hand. In what was too close to be anything other than a tie, the two teens vaulted over the back of a large sofa and landed in a tangle of limbs upon the cushion, laughter and giggles filling the room.

The two seventeen year olds righted themselves and got settled, Sam resting her combat boot clad feet in Danny's lap, and Danny piling up a tower of pillows behind him for extra cushy comfort.

"So who was it?" Danny paused in his fluffing of an additional pillow and turned to Sam.

"You know, your Ghosty Sense is nearly as accurate as mine." Sam rolled her eyes.

"You didn't answer my question Inviso-Bill." Danny groaned at the old moniker and replied,

"It was just Skulker, I handled him in under ten minutes, nothing to worry about." Sam's eyes darkened slightly, taking on a deep violet hue as they clouded with concern.

"Danny, you know I worry about you right? Between the ghosts getting more aggressive and your parents getting more radical about catching Phantom, you could really get hurt." The halfa gave Sam a smile that didn't reach his eyes and lightly grasped her hand.

"I know you worry Sam, I'm worried too if I'm honest. I just don't really know what to do. I can't just stop being Phantom, there are too many people to protect. No one else will help them, it's something I have to do." Sam leaned back towards him and hugged him once more, her embrace nearly desperate in it's tightness.

"You and your stupid hero complex." She gave a small sigh that tickled the hair near his ear. He held his best friend close, enjoying the comfort that her warm embrace offered.

"EW, get a room you too." The two teens sprang apart for the second time that night, their cheeks lighting up like beacons once more. They quickly armed themselves with pillows.

"SHUT UP TUCK!" The unified yell was met with a screech of manly terror as the barrette wearing newcomer dove to the side to avoid the oncoming barrage of pillows.

The night continued to deteriorate from there, into a mass of giggles, popcorn, and laughter. For the first time in quite a while, Danny felt the stress of being Amity Parks ghostly protector fall away, and for a short period of time, he was just Danny Fenton, having a blast with his best friends and being completely and utterly normal.

Princess Dorathea gazed in astonishment at the portrait of her father that was seemingly alive. She felt a blast of emotions, ranging from ecstatic joy to gut wrenching guilt. For sixteen hundred years, had her father been locked in this study? If she had just opened the door sooner, she could have had a way to communicate to her father. Albeit a confusing way, but a way nonetheless. Her esteemed father seemed to understand her train of thought almost instantly, and he quickly made to sooth her worries.

"Fear not little one, I've not been alone these long years. I've had companionship from many throughout the times. I am not upset with you for not visiting sooner, you were so young when you met your god mother I am not surprised that you don't remember her astounding capabilities." Dorathea's eyes widened slightly, but her head tilted in confusion. Taking hold of the one portion of her fathers sentence that she could understand the most, she voiced a question.

"I hav- had, a god mother?" Her fathers deep throaty chuckle sounded throughout the room.

"Yes Dorathea, she was very close to your Mother, a woman capable of amazing deeds in the magical arts." A sorceress? Dorathea vaguely remembered individuals of magical caliber passing through her kingdom, but most were untrained and capable of little more than tiny tricks and gimmicks. Thinking back to centuries ago, when she was still alive and a young girl filled with life, she tried to remember this god mother. She faintly remembered an imposing figure clad in blue, with a smaller figure nestled beside her, hair equally as dark, but stature much more childlike, rather than graceful.

"I think I remember… She was a sorceress?"

"A witch my dear, one renowned throughout the world as the most brilliant of her time. She helped to found a school to teach young magicals to train and harness their powers to reach their full potential. The school is now renowned as one of the greatest of its type."

"Father, how is it you can know all of this? How is it that you're here as a portrait? I remember those with magic being scarce, but I don't recall any being in our family." A shake of his curled barley blonde locks and he explained.

"No one in our family possessed the gift of magic, but your god mother bestowed a few items to us. Not long before I passed on, she asked if I would like a portrait commissioned that would allow me to watch over my kingdom for the years to come. I readily agreed, and she went to work on enchanting the canvas before the court painter arrived. Once the painting was finished, she explained that upon my death, it would allow me to see and interact with the living through many enchantments she had devised. I must say, it worked quite flawlessly, and it has become quite commonplace among magicals. Two other items that she gifted our family are the two amulets that I gave to both you and your brother upon my passing. She told me that they would contain the soul of a dragon, allowing the two of you to protect our kingdom as fiercely as a mother dragon would protect her young."

Dorathea was nearly overwhelmed, but as she listened, more and more began to make sense. Her fathers words were calm and honest, speaking the truth. So unlike her brothers form of vicious words that bluntly tore into her regardless of intentions. As she remembered once more her lack of loved ones near, she remembered her fathers mention of companionship.

"You said you have not been alone these many years, who has kept you company?" A smile lit her fathers face, and his eyes crinkled in joy.

"My darling primrose, I have seen magic beyond anything we could ever have believed. Your god mother placed a copy of my portrait in the halls of her school, and this has allowed me to visit with the other portraits, and the students and professors who grace the school with their presence. I have seen so many generations come and go, the advancements they have made are simply astonishing."

"What was her name?"

"Rowena. Rowena Ravenclaw."

With that single name, memories came flooding back. Dorathea remembered running through the halls of the castle with carefree vigor, hand clasping another girls, who was around her age as well.

"Hurry Helena! We have to beat Aragon to the dining hall or he'll snag all of the fluffy rolls!" The dark hair girl giggled and hiked the skirts of her deep blue dress higher, sprinting on bare feet much like Dorathea.

"I know Dora! I'm the one that suggested the idea to you." With a lapse of giggles both girls continued through the halls, shrieking with laughter that brought smiles to the faces of all that heard their antics.

That memory was quickly replaced by more, years of laughter and friendship, pranking guards, the disapproving stare of Helena's mother Rowena, the tiny tricks of magic that her god mother would sometimes indulge her curiosity in. Lessons in propriety that Dora often found boring, lessons in reading and matters of intellect that she enjoyed.

Above all she remembered the phrase that Rowena had once whispered to her after she had complained about her Brother being treated better by some of the guards and receiving more treats. He had boasted that his strength would bring him glory, and had teased Dorathea for being so much weaker than him. Confiding to Rowena with tears glossing her light blue eyes, the strict witch had let her have a glimpse past her proper exterior to the warm hearted mother within. Taking her head in her grasp and lightly brushing away her tears, she told Dora with the slightest of smirks, "Never forget- Wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure."

After that day she had increased Dora's lessons at her request, and the princess found herself enamored in a world of books and intellect. However, after her father passed and as she grew older, and her brother's taunts grew more vicious, Rowena and Helena's visits became far and few between, until they ceased completely.

As Dorathea grew into a woman and fell victim to the illness that plagued her land only to join the realm of the dead, the wise woman she had cared for had slowly faded from her memory, becoming more and more lost throughout the last sixteen hundred years. A single tear gathered in the corner of her eye, and it rebelled against her will for it to disappear, falling from her lashes to race down her cheek and drip onto her fathers dusty desk. She glanced up at her father, who was staring down at her with a warm, ever loving smile.

"How could I have forgotten them?" The princess choked back a sob that she felt building within her chest, not willing to lose her composure so entirely.

"My darling daughter, you have been locked away for so many years, the possibility of you forgetting such a part of your early childhood is no surprise. Do not blame yourself for the effects of time." Dora longed horribly for the ability to hug her father and never let go, but knowing that that remained a luxury still forever unavailable to her, she settled for resting her delicate hand upon the side of his portraits frame. He rested his own hand near hers, and for a while, she could pretend that they were merely separated by a simple glass window, and that any moment he would come rushing through the halls to embrace her and never let her go again.

Tears fell freely from her face, and she stood with her father for a countless amount of time, happy to merely be near him once again.

Finally breaking her trance she gazed around his study, smiling at the many layers of dust coating every surface. Her father had always been quite tidy, so she imagined watching sixteen hundred years worth of dust had driven him quite mad. A smile made its way to her lilac tinted lips, which gave way to a giggle, and grew into a full bodied laugh. Her father chuckled at her amusement, only wondering what it was that had possibly triggered such laughter. As she began to move around the room and started dusting, triggering huge clouds of dust to scatter into the air, he realized what it was that had her in a giggling fit.

"The amount of times I've tried calling for someone to come dust in here only for them to run away from the door in terror. You'd think they were hearing a ghost!" Both members of the room engaged in laughter this time. While the king was a portrait upon the wall, he was well aware of the fact that his daughter was no longer human. His lovely little girl had grown into a beautiful young woman, and he could only wonder why she was now standing before him. While she looked different, he still saw the same girl sparkling behind her eyes. He may not understand what his daughter had become, but he would always love his little girl, and seeing her face alit with glee and peace, he wouldn't have changed this moment for anything in the world.

AN: Hello everyone! I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter of my story. This authors note will be a bit longer than most, as I want to explain a bit about what I'm writing.

So in a lot of Danny Phantom / Harry Potter crossovers, I've noticed that the magicals are very accepting of Danny being a new type of ghost, and casually accept his help. I believe that they would be very intrigued by a new 'creature' they hadn't yet discovered, and they would be much more standoffish about Danny arriving in Hogwarts. As such, I'm hoping to set up the story in a way that offers Danny the ability to be much more incognito about who and what he is.

I also feel like Dora is fairly underestimated as an interesting character with a fascinating back story. She's a very old ghost, as in the series she mentions being under her brothers thumb for sixteen hundred years. As such, I think she would have some interesting ties and understandings of the magical world that would be very useful in tying things together.

I haven't done much in-depth research on dates, and I already know they won't match up perfectly, so I'm taking some creative liberties and scooting around the dates to match up a bit better. I'm thinking I'll have Harry in his fifth year, as I want him old enough to be a strong character rather than a child. That and I want the chance to torture Umbridge a bit. (who doesn't, am I right?)

I haven't written in quite a while, so I would love some feedback! Do things seem too slow? Moving too fast? Are people fairly in character? The more advice and tips the merrier- just please no rude or flaming comments. There's a big difference between constructive criticism, and just being plain old mean! That being said, I bid you all adieu, see you all next time!