Authoress' Note: I do not own Danny Phantom. Thanks a lot to Westward to Alliot for betaing and helping with the summary (and cramming it into 's absurdly small limit)

Summary: "Suspicious of a recent escalation of ghost-hunters coming to Amity Park, no one in town welcomed an outsider that went looking for their hero, Danny Phantom. And so, the visiting reporter who wanted to document a biography of the ghost's past 100 years was starting to lose hope; but he might've just found one person - an eccentric old man who seemed to know all there was about Danny Phantom - willing to help him."

.

.

The old man sitting at the bench in the park looked up at the visitor, smiling and leaning against the cane in front of him. "You must be that writer, aren't you? The one that goes around Amity Park asking people about the Ghost Boy…." His voice was deep and clear, something far from the usual tone of someone his age.

"Actually, I'm more of a reporter than a writer," the tall man replied, smiling apologetically at the sitting figure and nervously shifting his backpack on his left shoulder. "But yes, I'm the one that is trying to write a biography of Danny Phantom's life. Or better, his afterlife."

The old man idly played with his long, white beard for a few seconds before patting the bench's surface next to him, chuckling lightly. "Ah, yes. A reporter," he replied, watching his new acquaintance sit next to him and place his bag on the ground between his legs. "But we're not here to talk about your job, are we?"

Smiling somewhat uneasily, the reporter passed a hand through his short light brown hair and fiddled with his bag, taking out a notebook and a pen. "Well, yeah, but…" his protests died shortly as the old man waved a hand dismissively and looked at him with a reassuring smile.

"An old man is less important than a hero, Mister Reporter," he spoke softly, clearly showing his affection for Amity Park's protector. "The people of this city don't take kindly to outsiders that look for Danny Phantom. Many Ghost Hunters come here to try and capture him despite the fact that he saved the world so many years ago. They believe that he doesn't belong here, that he is dangerous…"

At the old man's pause, the reporter finished scribbling some notes down on the small notebook and then looked up, confused at this new revelation. No one until then had told him more than a "leave Phantom alone" or any number of less polite answer to his questions. "So he's not as dangerous as Ghost Hunters make him out to be?"

The elderly gentleman smiled sadly and shook his head, looking down at his hands collected at the top of his cane. "Danny Phantom is powerful. One of the most powerful ghosts to ever exist…." His deep voice trailed into silence for several seconds before his dark brown gaze turned to the sky. "Power is dangerous, but the boy would never turn it against innocents. Ghost Hunters see him as dangerous because they are watching him as an enemy, not a friend."

"This is why the citizens of Amity Park are against foreign Ghost Hunters…," the young man said to himself while scribbling more information on paper. "Every hunter that has come from outside the city has tried to harm Phantom…even the governmental branch, the Guys in White are amongst those who want to capture him and lock him away…no matter how much of a hero he is…"

"Exactly."

The old man's voice was soft and calm, but the reporter could see that his eyes had narrowed and his bony hands had clenched his cane in anger and perhaps even regret. He imagined that, as an Amity Park citizen, the elder in his presence hated to see their hero being hunted like an animal.

"That is why I decided to speak to you. A reporter." At those words, his gaze softened and his hands slackened as he leaned onto the back of the bench. "If you can show those people who he really is, he won't have to worry about hunters capturing him or the Guys in White experimenting on him.

"I won't tell you everything I know, but I will tell you enough to set you on the right track for you to solve the mystery that Danny Phantom is."

The young man paused taking notes and sharply turned his eyes to the person sitting next to him, curious and confused. Danny Phantom had always been an odd ghost. At first he had been mistaken as evil like any other of his kind, but as the months passed, he was slowly recognized as a protector and, after the attack of Pariah Dark, king of all ghosts, had become a hero, too.

Then, about twenty years ago, the Ghost Boy had gone through a radical change. He had gone through several months of depression and then, when he had recovered from it, he had become mischievous. Playing pranks on the people of Amity Park had become his favorite hobby, and even if he was up to something only once or twice a week, his deeds were something that could never go unnoticed. But, even with this new side, he had never hurt innocents nor did permanent damage to the city, and after a few years, people started to get used to painted buildings and misplaced things.

The latest prank, from what he heard, was a small fountain placed in the exact middle of a crossing during a night. Annoying, but all it did was create a bit of a traffic jam.

A mystery indeed…. The young looking ghost was far more complex than any human he knew….

And it was time to solve that mystery and show everyone who Danny Phantom truly was.

Tapping the tip of his pen to his chin, the reporter thought. If he wanted to know more about the famous Ghost Boy, he would have to start from the beginning. But what was the beginning for a ghost? His life when he was alive, or when he died? Was it even possible for ghosts to remember who they were before they died?

After a few more seconds of musing, he decided that starting from the beginning wasn't exactly the best idea. Besides old newspapers and records found in Amity Park's libraries, no one could possibly know Phantom's origins and what made him so unique and so different from all the other ghosts.

And if the past was still locked from him, perhaps the present would be the best starting point of his research.

Forgetting the old man sitting next to him, the reporter took a manila folder out of his backpack and opened it. It was filled with copies of old newspaper clips, photos and the occasional handwritten note. On top of this small pile of collected information, there was a picture taken last month by a local photographer.

It wasn't the best photo of Danny Phantom he had, but it was one of the few that portrayed him outside battle and in company of his partner, the Black Huntress. She was talking with an officer, probably reassuring him that everything was fine, while her ghostly companion was lounging on her hovering jet-sled just behind her back and holding what appeared to be a metallic thermos.

"Ah, yes…"

The unusually deep voice broke his musing and all the questions that had formed until that moment fell apart like a card castle. Deciding that reforming them in that instant would only be a waste of time, the young man looked up at the other and focused on what he was going to say.

"The Black Huntress…," the bearded man continued, his eyes never leaving the photo. "No one knows her identity, but she patrols the city with Danny. Most of the time she's together with him, but sometimes she takes the job alone when he can't. That, however, is not the Black Huntress's real task."

The reporter blinked in confusion. He had read all the newspapers and listened to all the recorded TV news and shows, and all they talked about was how good the young huntresses were at catching ghosts and how well they worked with Phantom over the generations. No one ever spoke of a more important duty that the girls clad in the black suits had to do through the long years of teamwork.

Perhaps it was some sort of family secret that was passed from master to apprentice, just like the ghost hunting gear and the job….

The old man chuckled gently, amused by the confused look he received. The chuckle died quickly, however, and his face sobered and he became somewhat distant and pensive. "Everyone that lives in Amity Park knows what the Huntress's real duty is…we all saw it happen a few times in the last couple of years…"

Recognizing the look and tone of voice to be that of recollection, the reporter quickly took his notepad and let the pen hover above the paper, waiting, but ready to write. Amity Park's citizens were extremely protective when it came to their hero and they never spoke badly of him, so it was really lucky for him to have found someone that would tell him more than just the good side of the story.

"Foreign Ghost Hunters had chased Danny non-stop for days, and not even the Black Huntress could do much to help him. Because of a particular tracking device, Danny was unable to hide." The old man took a long pause and idly tapped a finger against the top of his cane, thinking. "In the end they caught him. Poor kid was exhausted and unable to fight back….

"They trapped him down onto the street with nets and cables, but they were never able to approach him because something in him snapped and he wailed so loudly that he almost destroyed two city blocks. The Black Huntress took awhile to calm him down that time."

The reporter frowned and tapped his pen on the small notebook in his lap. To him, an "outsider," the story told him only one of Phantom's many battles and did not answer to the question of what the Black Huntress's real job was. "If hunting ghosts with Phantom is not her real job, then what is it?"

"Whatever Phantom needs help for," the elder replied, showing a hint of a smile. "The Black Huntress is there at his side."

"So…she's his sidekick?"

The old man shook his head gently, his beard waving gently in the late afternoon air. "Far from it. Everyone in this city knows that she is something much more than just a sidekick to Danny," he said, smiling at something that only he knew of. "No one besides those two will ever be able to explain what kind of relationship they share. Not even the third member of their group could exactly explain it."

As he finished talking, the elderly gentleman stood up, showing a grace unlike someone of his age, and turned around to look at the younger man. Before the reporter could voice his questions, he waved his hand into an invite to follow him. "However, I'm not the best person to talk about that, nor do I have the right to do so. Come on, I'll take you to them."

The man sitting on the bench gaped in disbelief. "You know where they live?" Questions formed into his mind, overrunning each other in their mad search for their right answers. Then, everything stopped abruptly as he came to a realization. "Wait, I thought that Amity Park was too protective of Phantom to let an outsider near him, and from what you are telling me, his friends are even more protective than the whole city put together…."

"Yes, and it will be hard for you to have them open up with you, but I know they will see it the same way as me if you tell them the truth."

Still skeptical about approaching Phantom so early in his investigations, the reporter closed the manila folder still in his lap and replaced it back inside his backpack along with the pen and notebook. Even if unsure about the old man's idea, it was still something he could not pass up, and he soon found himself silently following his guide's brisk pace.

They moved through the park and the young man had just enough time to briefly glance around at the people gathered there. It was crowded at the moment, and more than once he had to avoid crashing into a couple or a running kid by stepping to the side.

"They all hope to see their hero," the old man said as he stopped to let the other catch up with him. "Danny comes here to fly over the lake. No ones knows why he does that, but he seems to enjoy doing it."

"I've read something about it," the younger of the two replied, glancing towards the lake. It was large and had a roughly oval shape. "He usually comes in the evenings, when it's dark, but sometimes he comes during the day too. When that happens, the daylight dims so much that it feels like it's already evening."

He had also read that the dimming of the daylight was proportional to the strength of a ghost or their number. The stronger the ghost was – or the more there were – the more the day darkened. It wasn't sure, however, if it was a willed thing or something that the ghost was unable to control.

Another curiosity to ask Phantom if he got around his and his friends' defenses.

They resumed walking in silence, weaving through the thinning crowd as they reached the entrance of the park that would lead them back into the busy streets of the city. Outside the green haven, the roads bustled with cars and pedestrians as everyone left work to return home, and after crossing a couple of streets and turning a few corners, they entered a part of the city that the reporter hadn't been before.

It was the old part of the city, with buildings that stood strong despite their aged looks. Despite the old style of the zone, the place was well kept and lively and, from what he gathered from house magazines, it was also one of the most expensive places to live in.

Not because of the houses, he realized as he glanced towards the end of the street. Even if no magazine or newspaper reporter the location where Phantom "lived" as to protect him, everyone that lived in the city knew - and whoever took the time to visit it all could easily discover - where his home was.

That…thing on the top of the building was huge. Maybe even bigger than the house itself…

Whatever it was, it was full of antennae and other things that he couldn't begin to even understand. One looked a lot like a large periscope, one was either a giant lenses or a giant searchlight, while several others looked like some sort of…sensors or lasers…or something….

And then there was that huge, "Fenton Works" sign on the front of the building that could light up the whole street during nights. It looked like it hadn't been turned on in years, though….

He had never seen Ghost Hunting equipment in his entire life, but if that thing on top of that house wasn't something ghost related, then he was a female cheerleader….

The two stopped in front of the building and the reporter looked upwards. Even if he could see only bits and a few antennae, the metallic structure was huge and he wondered how an old looking brick house could sustain all that weight without collapsing or being toppled to the side by wind.

"They won't like you at first," the old man suddenly said as he walked up the steps and firmly knocked on the door. He was so calm and collected that the younger of the two wondered if he had already been there in many previous occasions. "But they do listen to what people have to say. Unless you are the one that points a gun at them."

"Are you sure of that?"

Now that he was there, in front of the famous Danny Phantom's lair, he was having some doubts about talking with him and his friends so early. Without a larger knowledge on the ghost's history, he feared that he would end up saying or asking something that would offend him and his friends, resulting in them telling him to leave the city and losing the best chance at discovering Phantom's true story.

The old man smiled and moved to stand in front of the reporter. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, lifting his cane and looking at one of the ends.

It was the oddest cane the young adult had ever seen in his life. At first it had seemed normal, but now that he looked at it closely, he noticed that it was closer to a staff in length rather than a normal walking stick, and at the top end there was a large V structure housing what looked like a stopwatch.

"It is time for me to go." The deep voice seemed to gain an echo, but the reporter didn't pay it any mind as the door slowly swung open to reveal a young girl around her teenage years. She was wearing loose black pants and a black and purple tank top. To complete her attire, she was wearing combat boots and a leather chocker around her neck while her long hair was pulled into a ponytail with random bangs falling on the side of her face.

The dark look that the kid was giving him prompted the young adult to clear his voice and raise his hand for a handshake with a friendly smile. "Hello there, I came to this city to write about Danny Phantom's life. I met with this old man at the park and he led me here. Can I talk with your parents?"

Purple eyes narrowed to almost tiny slits. "Old man? What old man? There isn't anyone here…"

The reporter lowered his hand, confused. "The one that brought me here. He's right," he turned around and frowned as he found only empty air. "Here…I don't understand…he was here just a few seconds ago…."

The girl crossed her arms and stood in front of the door, blocking the path to the inside of the house. "Look, mister, I don't know how you got here, but you better leave. We…"

She was stopped as a boy of the same age put a hand on her shoulder. "Wait, Sam," he said as he gently moved the girl aside to free the entrance. "Danny said we should talk to him and see what he wants."

And that was how the young reporter from outside town found himself accompanied through the house and into the living room.