Shout out to LunagaleMaster! You are my first reviewer ever! Thank You!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fred Weasley. I do not own George Weasley. I do not own Jack Fenton. I do not own Maddie Fenton.

Italicized = thoughts

(Excluding the line from the previous chapter. Have to cover the exceptions.)

Bold = Projecting voice or whatever seems appropriate for the most part.

Chapter 2

Shaking his head, he continued, this time though with a resolve "O.k. How do I become the master of Death?"

The pale purple child ghost looked Danny in the eyes, red meeting green. "I can not tell you. That would be cheating"

After 788 years of knowing Clockwork, Danny wasn't the least bit surprised by the answer. He still could have lived without the jab to his childhood. Danny phased through his blankets on the bed and floated in front of the ghost. "Can you point me in the right direction then, please?"

Clockwork holds out his hand for his long time friend to take. Danny shrugs his shoulders and floats to him, grabbing his hand. They disappear with the appearance of spinning clock-hands and appear in the time-ghost's floating green clock tower. Hundreds of clocks could be heard ticking in time or out of time.

Danny opened his mouth to ask a question as they started floating down one of the many halls.

"Yes Daniel, I am well. Yes the Observers have agreed with my decision to help you, if only for you to leave the alone. Yes they are still annoying."

Danny promptly closed his mouth and chuckled. "You used to let me ask my questions." He glanced at the child looking ghost.

"Why would I continue to waste my time on your unneeded and unending questions?" Clockwork answered.

Danny barely held an indigent look on his face, "Hey! I need those questions. I'm old. They help keep my mind focused and not on figuring out ways to prank your giant eyeball henchmen without them being able to avoid said pranks! Or new ways to hack into Skulker's battle suit using the old PDA as a backdoor in memory of Tucker!" Danny threw his hands into the air at the last statement, and then abruptly pulled them down, "Ow... Hey Clockwork, you wouldn't happen to have ghost painkillers would you? This whole sort-'a-but-not-really dead thing hurts."

Danny was getting really tired of spontaneous pain. At this point they stopped in front of a huge, gray, floor to ceiling, gear. Danny would guess a clock gear for some reason. It's not like they were in a clock cathedral. Oh wait, they were.

"No, but as you know time for me moves forward and backwards… I will do the same for you in a sense."

With that said a deep heavy clank sounded and the gear rolled to the side revealing a room. Like that was completely unexpected. If anyone asked Danny, he would swear Clockwork was the original or first or oldest stage director, or actor. It doesn't matter. The ghost 'lived' for dramatic affect. Most ghosts do, Clockwork was just the original.

The grand-master drama king ghost floated into the newly revealed room and his humble part-time stagehand followed behind.

It was large. The room was round and only about sixty feet in diameter. The large part was its height. At least three hundred feet in height and the entire room was made of dull gray stonework. Even the crumbling archway in the middle of the room was made of stone. It stood roughly fifteen feet, had a soft tattered veil shifting with unfelt wind, or even with the quiet voices that could be heard except not understood. The arch would have been creepy if this scene wasn't pretty commonplace in the Ghost Zone. But Danny was mildly stunned when he noticed there wasn't a single reference to clocks in the whole chamber.

"As you are about to ask, this room is not my domain. For there to be the concept of time, there must be beings who conceive the perspective of time. When those beings came to live so did Death. Time is built around death in a way, and-" Clockwork sighed, "Once again, why do I bother? You haven't changed personality wise since you've first met me. 'Sigh…' This is Death's room," Clockwork swept his arm around, "and that is its doorway. Death touches everything, even other plans of existence."

"O.K. what?" Danny was confused. "First, what did you mean before about having me move through time? And Death's doorway? You said this death guy couldn't appear in front of me."

Now in his adult form Clockwork turned to face Danny, "I will not be moving you through time Denial; I will be turning back your body clock to before you died. I can only do this for you because you are not in Death's clutches as of yet. Your second question, this is me pointing you in the right direction. Through Death's realm as it happens to be. You won't be conscious is the best way I can explain. There is no time in there, only being. It is one of the extremely rare ways to travel to other plains or worlds." Danny looked thoughtful at this. "Are you ready?"

Danny nodded once with a determined look. Clockwork lifted his purple clock inspired scepter and with a flat voice, "Clock rewind."

Danny's green eyes lost focus. His muscled arms shrinking as he brought his hand to his face and crouched down. He let out soft moans, not in pain but for the odd feeling that was moving throughout him and his core. Feeling his human half dead one second and alive the next had to be one of the oddest, or the weirdest thing ever since, well- O.K. he forgets a lot of the year to year oddities due to just being forgetful in nature, but this HAS to be the weirdest since becoming half ghost.

The feeling started to subside. He lowered his arms and stood up. He felt weaker, but alive again. Half alive, but still… He looked down his body to the floor that was a lot closer. I am so glad clothes with ghost properties change with our body shape… A feeling of dread and anticipation swelled up. With that thought two white circles of light no one had seen in years appeared around the warrior-looking ghost turned weak lanky looking child. When the circles disappeared a child with light blue eyes and black messy hair appeared, along with a foot of extra clothing on everything.

"Oh, come on," The new child spoke with a higher sounding annoyed voice. His face took on a look of mild disgust at the higher sound. "Great, now I have to go through puberty AGAIN… And ghost puberty, that sucked the first time."

Clockwork cleared his throat.

Danny saw he had some child's clothing in his hands, "When did you… Never mind you make time…" With a smirk Clockwork handed over the clothes for him to change into: white t-shirt with a smallish red oval on it, blue not tight pants, and red boxers with white dots. With a lip twitch, "Way to bring back the classics."

With a shrug he took the clothes and changed into them right there. He was with the ghost of time that once, a really long time ago, said 'I know, but then… I know everything.'

With those thoughts, he turned to 'observe the door' or rather veil and back to Clockwork.

With a smile the child spoke, "Thank you Clockwork my eternal friend… I'll see you again in due time."

The grandfather ghost also gave a small very real smile, "Only time will tell… And I will miss hearing of your puns in person, Danny. Enjoy your new adventure. "

With a nod and a wave, Danny strode a little clumsily but still confidently up to through Death's veil, not even giving the whispers coming from it more than a curious thought.

Through the Veil, out of the Ministry and London, in Northern Scotland, the all-magical town of Hogsmeade resides. Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore treads towards what he optimistically hopes to be the solution to his annual problem. The only thing that tugs in the back of his mind is the location agreed upon to meet. Albus was dressed in mauve robes, stark contrast to the old, dirty pub he stopped in front of. It had a worn picture of a hog's head above the door, fitting since the pub's name was Hog's Head Inn. The headmaster's only sign of hesitation was a tremor of his hand as he went to open the door.

The keeper and bartender looks up from wiping the bar-top, narrowing his eyes with distain as his lowly brother crosses his establishment's threshold.

"Good day to you Aberforth." Albus looks at Aberforth with a weak smile and remorseful eyes. Not that Aberforth looked twice at his elder. He just grunted and continued wiping the bar with an old rag. The curly haired woman sitting at the bar kept sloshing her sherry bottle around as she became drunker, mumbling to herself about how she wasn't suppose to be here, and this wasn't how her life was suppose to go. Albus turned to the third and last occupant of the dingy bar. He gave a grandfatherly smile, "And good day to you Quirinus."

Professor Quirinus Quirrell looks up from his Daisyroot Drought. "Hello Albus, thank you for meeting me. Won't you have a seat?" The professor was in his thirties, had short brown hair, and wore dark green burlap robes.

"Thank you Quirinus and I also must thank you for applying to the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Our current professor only agreed to teach this year. It's fortunate that seeking a replacement this summer probably won't be needed now. I hope you're sabbatical is going well?" Quirrell gave a small smile.

"I'm just stopping through on my way back from Iceland. As you probably know they are known for Huldufólk, or elves and trolls. I have found I have a decent hand at handling their mountain trolls. I'm now on my way to the coast of Croatia, then through Albania, and hopefully end in Greece. The ancient witch Circe was said to have a different incantation to turn men into pigs. This theory may hold true due to wands not being well used as magical focuses at the time." Quirrell became increasingly more excited as he spoke. "Think I might then take a ship from there to Africa as well if I have the time as well. There is a rumor in the muggle word that there is a zombie running around there; probably an inferi that was released from a tomb."

"It seems that you will be up for the challenge of teaching defense. It will be good to have you back at Hogwarts again. It's getting increasingly difficult to find someone willing to teach the children." Dumbledore said to the man. Both smiled. "Your muggle studies students miss having-"

The drunken woman at the bar turns around and interrupts, eyes blood shot behind her rather large and powerful lenses. "D-Don't listen to that last part. The part about people not wanting to teach. Isss juss- the head master doesn' have the sight to see theee potential in people or their subjects, 'hic…' unleshhh it's in front of his crooked nose." Albus eyebrows lifted slightly while Aberforth's lips twitched. "I applied for the divination post eleven years ago. I am the great-great-granddaughter of the seer Cassandra Trelawney. I foresaw the impact I would have on future generations. 'Hic..." The woman picked up he sherry bottle, took a swig and continued. "But it was not to be at the time. You abolished the course all together allll because a future telling could not be Told. On. Demand. 'Hmph,' well to that I say," she turned to face the newly appointed DADA professor for the next year, "you sir will die because you'll be too weak willed to overcome evilness with the promise of power." The young man in the room went from a look of skepticism and a little pity to a dark scowl.

"Now see here Ms. Trelawney, I-" the man cut himself off as the woman's sherry bottle crashed to the floor. Aberforth jerks up from trying to get off the sherry stain on the counter. Old dueling habits cause him to reach for his wand he always keeps on himself. Her eyes went wide and rolled a bit. She spoke with a clear harsh projecting voice.

"The Master of Death steps through the servant's Vail…

A gift given unto thee..."

Dumbledore's eyes shift and widen from the broken bottle to Trelawney. This is not her usual theatrics.

"The Dark Lord will rise and flee again for-"

By this time Aberforth has his wand out and casts a privacy ward around himself and the drunken prophet.

"- not even in seven will be enough to escape Death's clutches…

Blue to green shall the mark be...

His next adventure has begun..."

The silence broke with the newly discovered prophet.

"It seems I dropped my Sherry, Aberforth would you please get me a new bottle. My inner eye seems to have closed a bit. I am unsure as to why. The sherry helps to keep it open."

AN: End scene, chapter, and episode. Whatever.

Thank you all for following/favoriting/reviewing who did so. I'm not going to do this again at the end of a chapter, just this first one because they are my first:

Thank you so much LunagaleMaster, Chizure, El0ndon and ShadowPillow for your reviews. They meant and still mean a lot to me.

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Thank you for reading my work.

[September 10, 2015 ]

Reviews: 4 Follows: 25 Favorites: 16 Word Count: 2333