Salazar's Heir

By: Wilona Riva

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter.

Act II of our saga now begins. I decided to keep most of the original version in tact. I will be jumping from plot point to plot point, so there are lot of things I'll be skipping over. There won't be so much action as in the last story; I'll go back to that in the third installment. There are a few fillers, such as the poem with Fang. The original version had a lot of really short chapters, so I combined quite a few to make it longer. The total chapter length has gone down from 29 to 18.

Hot Names

"Sam."

"Will you quit it, already!" Harry yelled exasperatingly at his brother for the fourth time that night. "I'm trying to get the calibrations right on the portal or so help me, the first one of us through will end up in Antarctica or in another dimension."

Danny put down the wrench he had been using as a microphone to chant his beloved's name. "Can't help it if she's hot," he retorted. "Besides, Dad did that already."

Harry chuckled. "Good thing Mom was out of town that week or worse than radioactive fudge would have been clinging to the ceiling fan in the living room."

Danny nodded. "The House Cup Ceremony was quite interesting this year. I never thought I'd see a den of angry vipers up close and personal before."

Huh?

"Nothing, Featherhead. Go back to sleep," Harry said, feeling his pet ghost python move his coils a bit as he slowly awakened.

Music?

"A bit of music, maestro, if you will?" Harry mock-bowed to Danny, who hit the button on the ecto-music box Maddie had shipped to them, while they set about making Nightingale Manor livable again.

The beautiful strains of Enya's "Shepherd Moons" softly tinkled from the eighteen inch chrome radio.

Ah, my beautiful darling. Why won't you run to me so I could hear your voice forever?

Harry didn't bother translating that comment; his mind was far away, reflecting on the events of the last week.

"Potter's behind this. I know it," the sound of Draco Malfoy's voice carried over to the Griffindor table.

"And how is this my brother's fault?" Danny scowled. "Dumbledore was perfectly within his rights to add those points to Griffindor."

"Still cheating," Draco sulked.

"Tell you what," Danny replied, putting his face right into Draco's. "Face down Voldemort, then see if I give a fig."

"Come on," Danny grumbled, breaking into Harry's thoughts. "The sooner we can get this portal up, the sooner we can get home. I hate this drafty old house."

"Me too," Harry agreed.

"By the way, what did Hagrid give you just before we boarded the Express?" Danny inquired, passing him the wrench-microphone.

"A photo album of my parents and some of their friends. Hagrid wrote to everyone that knew them and compiled the album for me," Harry answered, pausing to wipe a tear from his eye. "It was nice of him to do that."

"Do the pictures move like they did in Hogwarts?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

Danny smirked. "Oh, no reason."

Harry hid a grin as he got back to work. Danny's tone did not bode well for Jazz.

"Dobby, you wretched cur!"

"I's sorry, Master, sir," the house elf bobbed, while trying to wipe the tea off his master's leather shoe.

"Never you mind that, elf. Fetch me the leather bag on the third shelf in the armory," Dobby's master ordered.

"The one across from the chimera exoskeleton, sir?" the house elf asked, looking at the patterns in the tiled floor.

"Yes," his master replied

"Right away, sir."

Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts, he decided, leaving to fetch said object per his master's command.

"Gram, Griffindor beat Slytherin out for the House Cup for the first time in six years. Or was it seven? I forget, but guess what?"

Mrs. Longbottom hid a secret smile as her grandson bounced excitedly on his tiptoes. "What, dear?" she asked gently.

"Me. I actually stood up for what was right and Dumbledore gave me the winning ten points," Neville's voice cracked as he sobered. "Do you think Mom and Dad would have been proud of me?"

Mrs. Longbottom gathered him into her arms and looked down into his eyes. "Yes," she told him. "They would be proud of you."

He hugged her. "Me too, Gram."

"Welcome home, Sammy-kins!" Pamela Manson squealed, causing Roo-Roo to let out a loud screech in angry surprise.

"He says your screeching is worse than a drunken banshee on Saint Patrick's Day," Sam translated, winking at her father and grandmother, who stiffled their laughter.

Pamela's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "It can talk?"

"No," Sam smiled. "But I can talk to him in Owl."

Jeremy sighed. "I should have known," he muttered to Grandma Ida.

"Whoo-hoo!" she whispered, winking conspiratorially at her young granddaughter. "We're gonna have fun this summer."

Sam had to agree, wishing that Danny and Harry were home already. Tucker was away at computer camp for the next two weeks, so she was stuck entertaining herself until then.