I decided to revamp this Danny Phantom fic so it'll hopefully make a bit more sense. To those who are already a fan of this story, I apologize for the inconvenience but this will likely have to be reread to get all the new details I added.

This fic has several different themes than just to 2 listed in the summary, it contains possibly a bit of every genre, I simply chose the 2 that were the most prominent.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Danny Phantom, Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon do, please don't sue.

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Chapter 1: Moving In

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It was the middle of July, and summer vacation was in full swing. Danny and his friends were trying to take full advantage of the freedom they had to hang out. But even with so much time on their hands, there was hardly anything they could think of to do. That is the curse of summer vacation; the first few weeks are totally awesome, but everything after that gets really boring. Strange that three sixteen-year-olds could find absolutely nothing to do in a town like theirs. Well, they weren't going to stay bored for long. They were on their way to Danny's house when it all began.

"So, you guys wanna play video games?" Danny asked dully, "Or maybe watch TV?"

Sam groaned, "Heck no! We've been doing that all summer!"

"Yeah," Tucker drooped his shoulders, "we gotta find something to do or I'll go crazy!"

They continued their trek to Danny's house, still trying to come up with something, anything to do! They reached the corner just down the street from Danny's house, when they saw the SOLD sign in the yard across the street.

"Hey," Tucker pointed out, "someone finally bought the Dirt Shed."

'Dirt Shed' is what the local kids called it, and for good reason. It was a twisted, tiny old house, and was raised up on a hill, almost like it could be something straight out of a Tim Burton movie. It was surrounded by a picket fence, the paint peeled off from years of being uncared for. The gate to the fence opened to a long, steep, crooked wooden staircase that led to a porch and the front door. The wide porch looked unsafe to tread upon, a stray cat lived under it and hunted rats and mice that lived in the house. Weeds overran the lawn, if it could be called that. There were boards and shingles missing everywhere and the shutters swung in the breeze. An old apple tree grew in the back, fruit fallen and rotting in the sun.

Danny and his friends used to think that it was haunted, but after he got his ghost powers, they found out it wasn't. But nonetheless, it was still a creepy house. Nonetheless, the teens walked quickly passed it, superstitious about it being cursed and what not.

Sam shuttered, "I hate that place; it gives me the creeps!"

"Of course, no one wants to be anywhere near—" Tucker never finished his sentence.

An old rusty pickup sputtered to a stop in front of the house. It rattled loudly with age and its' breaks creaked when it stopped. Junk was piled in the bed and strapped down with rope. The driver side door opened and out stepped the definition of a redneck if the teens ever saw one. He was dirty, fat and scruffy with overalls and a red plaid shirt. A cigarette settled in his mouth, the smell of smoke and liquor radiating off him from all the way down the street.

"Unload the truck, Henry," he grunted.

Two young boys jumped out the passenger side, "Yeah, unload the truck, Henry!" they chimed in unison.

A strange scruffy kid stepped down behind the boys. The trio likely figured it was a guy at a cursory glance, until he spoke up.

"Yes, Uncle Rege," she said in a feminine voice, and closed the door.

She was dirty like Uncle Rege, but not dressed nearly as close to a hillbilly. She wore an old baggy yellow hoodie that was at least two sizes too big and equally baggy torn jeans. Her hair was a strange shadow of burgundy red and was chopped scraggly and short. Her baby blue eyes were bright but sad. She walked around to the back of the truck and opened the back lip to climb in. She didn't look up or even notice the teens, just set to work untying the rope.

Uncle Rege opened the gate, tread up the crooked steps toward the front door, and pulled keys from his pocket that were obviously meant for the front door, "Hurry up, I need to get to work," he threw over his shoulder.

"Yeah," the boys said again, "hurry up, Henry!" as they ran up the steps to explore the small yard.

"Yes, Uncle Rege," she said dully and unloaded box after box from the back.

Danny and his friends just watched them for a while, 'Henry' unpacking the truck while Uncle Rege and the boys did nothing to help. There wasn't too much to unload though, mostly boxes but some odds and ends, though there was an armchair and mattresses that she struggled with. A lot of the boxes were big and heavy and Henry had to lower them slowly backwards from the truck.

As soon as everything was unloaded on the sidewalk, Henry closed the back and brushed the front of her hoodie with her palms, "All done, Uncle Rege."

"Now move it into the house," Uncle Rege came down the steps, roughly placing a key in her hand and went around the side of the truck and climbed back into the truck, "I want all this stuff in there by the time I get back."

"Yeah, Henry, move it into the house," the boys hopped in with Uncle Rege and they chugged away; why the boys had to go was anyone's guess.

The disheveled teen sighed and picked up a large box. She stumbled under the awkward weight and put it back down to get a better hold. Danny, being the nice boy he was, decided he'd seen enough of the poor girl handling everything on her own and walked toward her. Tucker and Sam soon followed suit. Henry was still bent over the box when Danny approached her.

"Hi," Danny said cheerfully, "would you like some help with all that?"

Henry looked up at him questioningly. Who is this guy? And why would he want to help me?

"Uh, sure, if you want," she lifted the box with a grunt.

Now that they were all standing so close, Danny noticed that she was slightly shorter than he or either of his friends were, but not a dwarf, just on the small side. He smiled and picked a box up. Sam and Tucker grabbed a box each as well and all four of them marched up the long stairway to the porch, teetering slightly from its' uneven surface and weight of the contents they were carrying. Henry set her box down, inserted the old key and jiggled the handle; it was stuck. She growled, backed up and kicked the door open cop-style.

The house inside was even worse than the outside. The ceiling was half gone, dust coated every inch of the floor and wallpaper was peeling off the walls. Henry picked up her box and went inside. The gang hesitated, not sure if it was safe to enter such an unstable house.

Henry put her box down and turned to them, "What's wrong?"

"Are you sure the roof's not gonna fall down on us or something?" Sam looked up at the weak-looking boards overhead.

"Don't worry," Henry looked up, "we've lived in worse homes than this," then she looked back at them, "I never got your names."

"Oh," Danny came inside and set his box down, followed closely by Sam and Tucker, "I'm Danny Fenton, and this is Tucker Foley and Sam Manson."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Henrietta Cooper," she smiled lightly and walked back to the door to the porch.

"Where'd you get your name?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"My grandparents gave it to me, but most people call me Henr-"

The second Henry stepped down the first step of the staircase, it broke and she went rolling all the way down. She landed on her head at the bottom, twitching slightly.

She rubbed her sore crown, "Watch that first step!"

Everyone laughed; it was good that she had a sense of humor.

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In no time at all, all the stuff was inside the house and was in the process of being unpacked. Henry's stuff went upstairs to the loft, which was more like an attic, where her room would be. Lifting a mattress and a heavy cedar chest up the steps to the loft was no small feat though; a lot of struggling and maneuvering ensued. Several boxes of Uncle Rege's precious bottled wine and whiskey went down in the basement. Henry had brought a small radio with her and put on a tape while they unpacked on the main floor.

"What is that?" Tucker asked.

"Walt Disney Records 60 Years of Magic," she smacked the radio to get it working, "I like to sing to it sometimes; it helps make working go faster."

"You sing?" Danny was sorting silverware that got mixed up on the trip.

"Yeah," Henry blushed, "but only to myself, but this is my true love," she pulled up an old instrument case.

Tucker raised a curious eyebrow, "What's that?"

Henry opened the case and gently lifted the old instrument out, "This is my grandpa's violin, he gave it to me before he died. It's one of the few things Uncle Rege let me keep all these years," she rested it against her shoulder and turned the knobs on the end to tune it.

"Cool," Sam said, "Are you any go at it—"

She didn't quite get to finish her sentence before Henry burst into a wild, down-home fiddle song, like something Charlie Daniels would play, then slowed it down to a soft classical ballad, then a deep dramatic climax.

Henry swung the bow at her side, quite satisfied with herself, "Looks like it made it in one piece," she gently set it back in its' case, "thank heavens it didn't break in the move."

She looked up to a dumbstruck trio and suddenly felt very self-conscious, "W-what?"

"Dude!" Tucker exclaimed, "That was rockin'! Where'd you learn to play like that?"

Henry blushed, "My grandpa taught me a little, and I'd sneak into band practice at the local high school occasionally to learn a few things. But I just do it for fun, just a hobby."

"You should try out for the band at Casper when school starts," Sam unpacked several glasses carefully, "you'd totally get in with your skills."

She shook her head vigorously, "No way, I'm way too shy!"

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Soon everything was unpacked and set neatly in their newly designated places. After their hard work, they all sat on the porch drinking water from the recently unpacked glasses. They talked about nothing in particular, just talked for the sake of talking really. The sun was going down, so the air was nice and warm, not scorching hot like midday.

Henry paused halfway in their conversation, "Hey guys?"

They could sense she was being serious, "What's up?" Tucker asked between sips.

She fidgeted nervously, "Are we friends?"

Danny scoffed playfully, "Yeah, of course."

Henry perked up, "Really? That's so awesome!"

"And, since we're friends," Sam piped in, "you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Danny pointed down the street, "That's my house right down there, we can hang there tomorrow."

Henry got up and ran down the steps, almost tripping over her own feet. She leaned over the gate to see down the street where Danny had pointed.

"Is it that one with all the stuff on it?"

"Yep," Danny scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a bit embarrassed about all the ghost gear.

She leaned even farther over and fell over the front and hit the pavement face first.

"Crap in a hat!" she got to her feet, rubbing her head, "I'm gonna have a concussion by tomorrow at this rate!"

They all laughed and Henry walked back up the stairs.

"Seriously, are you okay?" Sam calmed herself.

"Oh, believe me," Henry wiped a small cut on her forehead, "This is nothing, you should see what happens when—" she stopped in mid sentence and sat down beside them.

"When what?" Danny inquired.

Henry played nervously with the front of her hoodie, "Nothing, really."

They all sat in silence for the next few minutes, until Uncle Rege's truck swerved down the road and pulled up in front of the house. Danny could feel his new friend tense next to him. The truck drove up on the sidewalk and stopped awkwardly. Uncle Rege and the two boys jumped out and started up the stairs.

"Look, Pa!" one of the boys shouted, "Henry made some friends!"

Henry cowered beneath Uncle Rege's hawk like gaze, "Is this true, Henry?"

She swallowed hard and nodded.

"And she's going to hang out with us tomorrow," Sam said with a hint of sarcasm.

Uncle Rege glared daggers at the teens, "Oh really?" then scowled down at Henry, "Not unless you finish your chores!"

"Yes, Uncle Rege," she flinched.

"Now get outta here, ya buncha punks!" he stepped passed the teens into the house.

The boys followed their father, "Yeah, go home punks!"

They sat there for a moment; staying with Henry for a little while to make sure she'd be okay. She gathered the glasses from them and walked them down to the gate.

"Don't sweat it," Henry tried but failed to sound cheerful, "I'll get my chores done first thing in the morning, and then run right over. I still see where your house is, Danny."

"Yeah," he tried to sound happy as well, "we'll be waiting."

So the three friends went their separate ways back to their houses, each looking forward to tomorrow to hang out with their new friend.

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End Chapter 1

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Well, R+R and tell me what you think, the story will hopefully start to get better.