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Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Wizard's Life For Me by gryffindorgirl16

Format: Novel
Chapters: 6
Word Count: 11,424
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature

Genres: Crossover, Drama, Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, OC
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione

First Published: 03/01/2006
Last Chapter: 08/19/2007
Last Updated: 12/24/2008

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While the four friends are innocently watching a muggle movie, Ron's wand accidentally backfires, sending them into the world of pirates, gold, and treachery! While there, will Harry learn the secret to beating Voldemort, or will it have turned out to be a meaningless adventure?...awesome banner made by x_halawa_x...THIS STORY HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED. YOUR PATIENCE IS APPRECIATED. =)

Chapter 1: The Muggle Movie
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The Muggle Movie

Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger stared up at the large selection of muggle movies. The cupboard in the Weasley’s basement was filled from top to bottom with all the films Arthur Weasley had accumulated over the years. There was every possible genre present, from Drama and Comedy, to Horror and Historic Epic.

“Which one?” asked Ginny in a slightly awed voice. “There are so many...I’ve never seen a movie...are they really that fun?” she looked at Harry questioningly.

Harry smiled down at her, glad that she was speaking to him again. All during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, which had taken place two days ago, she had avoided him. He could certainly understand her hesitation, however...he had, after all, broken up with her to keep her safe. If only she knew how much it pained him to not be able to call her his any longer...she didn’t know, couldn’t know, how leaving her had broken his heart. He couldn’t bear to lose another one whom he loved.

“Yes,” he answered, his green eyes caressing her face, “they are. Hey Hermione, what about that one? I don’t think I’ve seen it.”

Hermione looked towards the bottom, where Harry was pointing, and squealed excitedly. “Oh! I didn’t spot it! Oh, perfect, this is it, you’ve got to watch it...” she bent down and picked up a slim case.

“What is it?” Ron looked quite skeptical.

“Can’t you read, Ronald?” Hermione asked rudely. Harry couldn’t help but smile, knowing she didn’t mean to be tart at all...she and Ron were so lovesick and obsessed with each other that no mater what either one said, they’d still go snog in the broom closet...Harry liked to call it the “make-up and make-out” trend.

“Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl,” read Harry aloud, taking the case from Hermione and showing it to Ginny. “It’s a DVD,” he explained, “and that’s why it’s so much thinner than the videos.”

“Is it like a CD?” she asked, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the case, her hand resting on the picture of Johnny Depp in his pirate regalia.

“Sort of...come on, let’s put it in!” Hermione grabbed the movie from Harry and practically flew up the stairs in her excitement.

“I guess it’s good,” Ron commented dryly to Harry as they trudged upstairs.

By the time they had reached the family room, Hermione had already plugged in the television and the DVD player, and was in the process of inserting the disc.

“Sit down!” she motioned at the couch behind her. “It’ll just take a second to read...and then I press ‘play’ we are!” she scooted backwards until she was leaning against Ron’s legs.

Harry winced as he sat down as far away from the couple as possible, which left Ginny no place but the middle. She shot him a glance as she plopped down, and he found himself plunged into memories...memories of a time when Ginny had leaned against him like that in the Gryffindor common room...

A flash across the TV screen made Harry come out of his reverie. The title was portrayed proudly before fading away to a dark scene. Fog gave way to a ship, and a faint voice was heard from the little girl at the helm.

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me…we extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up—“

She stopped suddenly, startled by a hand clapping down on her shoulder.

“That’s one of the main characters,” whispered Hermione, “Elizabeth Swann.”

Harry nodded. He had seen previews for the movie on Dudley’s large-screen TV, and was more or less aware of the characters and storyline, although he hadn’t actually seen it...the Dursley’s had refused to let him go to the movie theater.

After a few minutes had passed, Harry found his mind wandering, despite the intriguing things that were occurring on the screen.

Ginny. There she sat. Right next to him, with her legs crossed under her on the couch. Her left knee was touching his leg. Not that she was doing it purposely. She probably had no clue that the light touch was driving him mad. She was so close, and yet, so far...

Harry glanced at her. Although the lights were dimmed so that they could see the screen better, her red hair still shone with the remaining light. It was long, almost to her waist, and it framed her face with soft, sweeping, smooth curls. It was actually more wavy than curly, but at any rate, it entranced him. He recalled all too well the time, not so long ago, when she had let him run his hands through it. Now, she was barely speaking to him, and then only in monosyllables. Well, not quite, he reminded himself with a smile; she had just spoken an entire sentence to him not ten minutes ago!

As he dwelled on that, he began to wonder...why didn’t she understand why he couldn’t be with her? Why couldn’t she just move on? Not that he really wanted her to move on to another guy, but neither did he want her to wait for him, and then if he died...well, she’d be alone, and he only wanted her to be safe and happy.

Damn that stupid prophecy, he thought, clenching his fist. Why was it that everyone he cared for and loved was dying? First his parents, then Sirius, now Dumbledore...soon it would be Ron...then Hermione...then Ginny. And he wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow it. Not any of them. They would all grow old enough to have great great grandchildren if he had anything to do with it!

Ginny was trying to concentrate on the muggle movie. It was interesting so far, and the actors were really good looking. But why was it that all she was truly aware of at the moment was that Harry was watching her? She groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone in her misery? He was the one who had left her, and now here he was, constantly looking at her, and she could sense that he still wanted her. That was what angered her the most: the fact that he was going against his initial feelings for her. Why was it so important for him to fight his obvious love for her? Even if they weren’t dating, Voldemort would still know that he cared for her, so either way she was in danger. Why couldn’t he just accept it? It would make things so much easier...

Suddenly, the room was silent. Harry looked away from Ginny to find that Ron had pressed the ‘pause’ button on the remote.

“Gotta go to the loo,” he mumbled, rising from the couch.

Hermione turned sharply and clamped onto his legs. “Oh no, you don’t. You can’t just turn on Johnny Depp, and then put him on pause! It isn’t ethical!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Ethical smeshical. I gotta go!”

“Ronald!” pleaded Hermione, “come on, it’s getting to the good part. He’s about to escape from Commodore Norrington, then he has this super-cool sword fight with Will Turner!”

“But I still really gotta go, Mione,” whined Ron.

“Tie a knot in it,” quipped Ginny solemnly.

Ron glared at her, but Hermione stayed clamped to the lower half of his body, and he still couldn’t move. Suddenly, and bright light came into his eyes. “Listen, I’ll just do a little charm so you’ll be entertained while I’m, uh, occupied.”

Harry and Ginny both raised skeptical eyebrows. “Oh really?” asked Ginny, restraining laughter, “what charm would that be?”

“That one Flitwick taught us at the end of term...the replacement charm, or whatever,” Ron said, as he promptly pointed his wand at the TV, and announced. “Enorte Renplanto!”

There was a sudden burst of light as a blue force jetted out from Ron’s wand, hit the screen of the TV, then swiftly bounced back, engulfing the four and sucking them towards the screen. Hermione screamed, and suddenly, they were gone.

A/N: Please review...I've wanted to post this for a long time, so I hope you guys like for the next chapter, "Captain Jack Sparrow." And yes, I am well aware that since HP takes place in the 90s, POTC wasn't around, nor were DVDs...but please, allow me to make this one exception for the sake of the story...

Chapter 2: Captain Jack Sparrow
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Captain Jack Sparrow

Hermione’s screams echoed as the four were engulfed in precipitate darkness. Harry felt Ginny’s hand grasp his, and despite the strange and somewhat frightening turn of events, he felt wonderfully satisfied that she was clinging to him when scared. He couldn’t help but smirk.

Just as suddenly as the darkness had come, the sucking feeling ceased, the vortex closed, and the light returned. Harry blinked rapidly to clear his mind and asses what had just happened. He tried to reach for his wand, which was stowed in his pocket, but Ginny was now gripping his body so tightly that he couldn’t move. He glanced quickly at Ron, who was staring at his own wand in horror, and was trying to put it away quickly (probably to hide the ‘evidence’) but Hermione was clamped onto him as well.

Harry tried to figure out where they were. It obviously was not the Weasley’s house. Nope. Definitely not. They seemed to be outdoors; all right, they were certainly outdoors, because there was a salty breeze blowing through their hair, and a blue sky above. It almost seemed as though they’d taken a portkey....a portkey to where? Why did this scenery seem so familiar?

Hermione opened her eyes, and threw Harry a terrified glace before looking around, and giving an excited shriek.

“What? What?” Ron screamed, wrapping his arms around Hermione, just as she was letting go of him.

“We’re here! I don’t know how, but we’re here! Oh, my God, I can’t believe it!”

Ginny loosened her hold slightly to turn her head and see. “Oh…Hermione! You’re right? But how?”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh, tired of trying to place the surroundings. “Where the hell are we?”

Ginny wriggled away, out of Harry’s embrace, and he felt a pang of disappointment. “We’re in Port Royal!” she said.

“We’re WHAT?” bellowed Harry and Ron at the same time.

“It’s not a ‘what’, it’s a ‘where’, and that ‘where’ is Port Royal!” said Hermione in a slightly bossy tone of voice, “If you’d paid attention to history you’d know where that is.”

"Well, FYI, I do know where that is, Hermione. It’s in the Caribbean. What I don’t know is WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE!” yelled Harry.

Hermione was about to yell right back, but her eyes suddenly widened as she looked past him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ron.

Hermione pointed mutely, and the other three turned around.

There was a man. A very familiar-looking man sporting dread-locks laden with decoration. A very familiar-looking man running directly towards them with a wild look in his eyes.

“Move!” he shouted, flailing his arms as he ran.

It was then that Harry realized what was going on; they were not only in Point Royal, but the 1700s version….this man was being chased by English soldiers, whose firing guns could now be heard…they were standing on a bridge…there was no side to move to in order to let him pass…they would have to go in the same direction.

“Run!” Harry grabbed Ginny’s arm and dashed to the other side of the bridge, Ron and Hermione behind them.

Ginny jerked her arm away from Harry’s grasp and continued to run, but didn’t dare to look behind her. The shots were getting closer now, and she could hear the man (whom she recognized as the pirate from the movie they had just been watching just a moment before in the safety of the Burrow) sprinting behind them, his boots making a clanky, hollow sound as he crossed the wooden bridge.

“Faster!” he yelled at them again, his voice rough and slightly gravelly. He was getting closer…

The four teenagers put on an extra spurt of speed, for fear of being run over, and because they could now feel the wind of the passing bullets as they flew by their ears.

They were now entering the town, and the people parted for them like the Red Sea parted for Moses and the Israelites. Hermione tried to see the surroundings as best as she could, and suddenly skidded to a stop. “In here!” she shouted, opening the door of a shop, over which there hung the sign that declared it to be a smithy. “Hurry, there’s no time!”

Without giving it second thought, Harry, Ron, and Ginny darted in after her. Harry shut the door behind them quickly. “What if they saw us? The soldiers, I mean?” asked Ron, his voice rising several octaves.

Harry saw another door only a few feet away, and reached over to push it open. It creaked loudly just as they heard the soldiers running past. “Hurry!” he whispered, holding the door open as the others entered. He closed it slowly to prevent further noise that might give them away.

The small room was very dark, and seemed to be full of old smithing tools. There was only room to stand.

“Ow!” wailed Ron. “I’ve stubbed my toe! Bloody darkness…”

“Keep it down, will you?” hissed Ginny, pulling out her wand. “Lumos…” she whispered, creating a small beam of light.

“All right, Hermione,” muttered Harry through clenched teeth, “how did we get here and how are we going to get back?”

Hermione’s look grew pointed as she glared at Ron. “My smartass boyfriend spoke a charm that doesn’t even exist. Okay, well maybe it does since it brought us here, into the movie, but it’s certainly no ‘replacement’ nonsense. What on earth were you thinking, Ron? You could have gotten us killed! You know better than that!”

“Sorry! I didn’t think it would work, since I made it up…or thought I did,” Ron’s face flushed.

“Well, we can figure that all out later…we kind of have a problem on our hands,” stated Harry, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “how do we deal with what we’ve just gotten ourselves into?”

Hermione sighed. “Well, that was Captain Jack Sparrow running after us…it seems to me that this whole bit is progressing just like the movie is. That means that the people here don’t like pirates, imagine how they feel about witches and wizards.”

“So we can’t use our wands?” Ron kicked his shoe off to rub his toe.

“At least not when anyone is watching,” answered Harry, before turning back to the girls. “Do you know how the next part of the movie goes so that we can be somewhat prepared?”

Hermione got that excited look she’d had when she’d realized where they were. “Of course! Jack’s about to come in here and have that swordfight. Then he goes to jail, but Will lets him out after Port Royal is attacked by Barbossa’s motley crew of cursed pirates.”

“Cursed pirates!?” Ron’s voice squeaked as he suddenly lost interest in his stubbed toe. “What’s next then? Giant spiders?”

“No, that’s in ‘Lord of the Rings’. This is totally different. Don’t worry, everything’ll turn out—“ Hermione was cut off by the clash of metal.

Ginny looked towards the door, and dimmed her wand. “They’re fighting,” she breathed.

“We’ve got to come up with a plan…” Harry poked Hermione in the ribs.

“Hush! We don’t want them to hear us, do we?”

“I guess not,” Harry sighed. “Then what?”

“Well,” Hermione leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “We wait.”

A/N: I am SO sorry that updating took me so long...don't hurt me!!! J/K...I hope you like it...please review, and watch for the next chapter, "The Swordfight, and what followed...". This time, it won't take me a decade...I promise. ;-)

Chapter 3: The Swordfight, And What Followed
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The Swordfight, And What Followed

Ginny pressed her ear against the rough wood of the door, listening as best she could to the swordfight taking place in the smithy between the pirate and the young Mr. Turner. It sounded so wonderfully piratical, that she could feel her insides jumping with excitement.

“I wonder what it looks like…” she mused aloud.

“Well, when we get home—IF we get home—you can watch Captain Jack and Will Turner to you heart’s content,” whispered Hermione, her voice slightly menacing, and actually rather intimidating in the dark room.

Ginny turned to glance in her general direction. “ Can’t we just take a peek? Because if we never—“

She was cut off suddenly by a loud crash. “The front door’s being kicked!” Harry whispered.

Ginny placed both hands on the door, listening again. “What? Why?” she asked as the banging continued.

Then, a moment later, and without warning, the door flew open, causing her to fall to the ground. Ron grabbed Hermione’s arm in fright, and Harry restrained himself from reaching instinctively for his wand.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” asked the man who had opened the door. He looked down at the prostrate Ginny, and smiled slyly.

Harry felt his chest tighten, and he reached down to help Ginny up. The man watched, his eyes laughing, and Ginny squeezed Harry’s arm tightly, her body trembling slightly with both fright and embarrassment. The man leaned on his musket, and with one hand straightened the white X that crossed his bright red soldier’s uniform. He was about to speak again when another man, this one far more important-looking, appeared over his shoulder.

“What’s this?” he scowled, his face dark with displeasure.

The soldier went rigid at attention. “I’m not positive, Lieutenant…I heard whispers coming from behind the door, and this is what I found.”

Behind the men, Harry could see that two soldiers were dragging the body of the pirate away. The character of Will Turner was soot-covered and talking with another soldier in a fancy uniform.

“Hmm…” the Lieutenant’s eyes roamed over the four friends. “What on earth are they wearing?” he asked the soldier, who merely shrugged. “Strange looking children, aren’t they?” he laughed suddenly. “What’s this, then?” he repeated. “Been play-acting, have you?” he frowned again. “Young ladies, what could have possessed you to dress in such a way?”

Ginny swallowed with some difficulty before answering. “Uh, nothing, sir…we’ve just been messing around. No harm done.”

“Messing around? What the devil does that mean? You DO realize that you hooligans are on private property, correct?”

“Of course we do; what do you think we are? Idiots?” squeaked Ron, trying to sound…well…not like himself.

“Well then, young man, you have just condemned yourself!” barked the Lieutenant. He turned to the soldier. “Idiots indeed! Fetch the Commodore!”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Ginny, Harry, and Hermione shot daggers at Ron. “What?” he whispered.

Harry clenched his fist. “The Commodore is coming! We’ll probably get arrested for trespassing.”

“You shouldn’t have admitted that we knew it was private property!” Hermione actually sounded frightened. Ron ran a hand through his hair as he looked guiltily at her.

“Who are you? I’ve never seen you in Port Royal…and what on earth are you wearing?” came a loud, impressive voice.

They turned to see Commodore Norrington. Ginny’s hold on Harry’s arm tightened considerably as she, Ron, and Hermione all looked at him to answer. He cleared his throat. “Well, sir, we, uh…” his voice faltered.

The Commodore straightened an impressive medal around his neck as he spoke. “Cat got your tongue, boy? That’s all right; you won’t need to speak where you’re going…” he motioned to a man hovering behind him. “Gillette, fetch some irons.”

As Gillette scurried away, the Commodore smiled disarmingly. “You four are under arrest by the government of Port Royal for trespassing and for dressing and conducting yourselves in a most inappropriate manner,” he clasped his hands behind his back, and took a deep breath. “Ah, five arrests before noon…today is my lucky day.”

Harry clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. The nerve of the puffed-up, bloody moron! Oh, what he wouldn’t give to whip out his wand and show him a thing or two!

“Ho, there, Commodore…” a voice cut across Harry’s thoughts. Hermione gave a little gasp as her eyes brightened up…Will Turner, dust-ridden and sweaty, was still terribly handsome.

The Commodore gave sigh and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Turner?”

The blacksmith took a cloth from one of the work-tables, and wiped it over his dirty brow as he spoke quickly. “I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier…these young children aren’t to be arrested; they’re friends of mine, sir!”

Commodore Norrington raised his eyebrows. “Friends of yours? Then what were they doing hiding in there?” he pointed at the friend’s surroundings.

“I put them there, sir. To keep them away from that pirate,” he exchanged glances with Harry.

Ginny and Ron looked at each other. Why was he helping them? He had never seen them before in his life! What was he thinking?

Harry turned his head swiftly towards the others. His green orbs pleaded with them to play along.

Hermione suddenly broke into tears, startling everyone, including the Commodore, and causing Ginny to give a slight yelp of surprise. “Yes…we were so terrified, sir…” a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “Mr. Turner was only trying to protect us…” she raised her eyes to the men in uniform, the drops clinging to her full, dark, eyelashes.

Gillette, who had arrived with the manacles, cleared his throat nervously, and Norrington looked incredibly flustered. “Oh…well…” he stuttered slightly, “…in that case, I suppose we won’t need those irons, Gillette,” he looked away from Hermione’s captivating performance, and spoke to Will Turner, whose face was now somewhat cleaner.

“Mr. Turner, please see that your…friends…get some proper clothing…” he coughed politely as he turned towards the door, the soldiers in tow.

The second the door was closed, a portly man sitting in the corner of the room, clutching a broken rum bottle, began to snore, and the four looked gratefully up at the young blacksmith, who grinned.

Ginny let go of Harry, and Hermione laughed, wiping away her tears. “Thank you SO much, Mr. Turner. How can we ever thank you?”

Will Turner’s dark brown eyes looked over them carefully as he replied. “No need to thank me.”

Ron spoke up. “But you don’t know us.”

“True,” Will tossed the filthy rag in the direction of the sleeping drunk, whom Hermione recognized as Mr. Brown, the blacksmith under whom Will Turner was doing his apprenticeship, “however, the illustrious Captain…pardon me, Commodore…and I don’t get on too well, and it was the perfect time to deprive him of four arrests. Nothing like ruining a soldier’s day. Although…” his voice became cautious and a bit harder, “I have to wonder if I’ve made a mistake…”

Despite what Will had just said, Ron suddenly noticed how Hermione and Ginny were looking at their rescuer…all wide-eyed, and dreamy-eyed. His face turned red with inner frustration. Why didn’t they ever look at HIM like that? Well, not that he wanted his sister to look at him romantically, but Hermione had never had that look on her face! He tugged at his girlfriend’s sleeve. “Er…Mione, I’m sure this guy has stuff to do, so we should, uh, be going.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “Guy? My name isn’t Guy…to whom are you referring?”

Harry stumbled slightly over his words. “See, um…we just, uh…it’s a slang thing, not a real name.”

Will shook his head, and stepped closer, blocking their exit from the small storage room. “There is something strange about the four of you. Your clothing, your use of the King’s English…would you mind explaining yourselves? I’d hate to call the Commodore back.”

Hermione sighed, and removed Ron’s hand from her sleeve. “It’s a really long story, and quite unbelievable…”

Will crossed his arms. “I’ve got plenty of time. Let’s hear it, miss.”

She looked at Harry for guidance, but he shrugged helplessly. What was there to say?

“Oh, yes, well this is what happened; you see, we’re all a bunch of witches and wizards from the twentieth century…yes, the TWENTIETH century, and my bloody boyfriend Ron here tried to make up a bloody charm because he needed to go to the bloody loo and I didn’t want to bloody let him blood go! So yeah, that’s how we ended up here…we got transferred through the television—what? Oh, a television? It’s this big black box the muggles invented. No, MUGGLES. M-U-G-G-L-E-S. It means someone who isn’t magical. That’s right, MAGICAL. Witchcraft. No, not voodoo, WITCHCRAFT. I know, but there IS a difference. Yes…correct…oh sure, we ride on brooms all the time. Proof? Here’s proof…my wand. Isn’t it pretty? Comes in handy when you need to do the Bat-Bogey hex on someone. Bat-Bogey. B-A-T…”

Ugh…they couldn’t very well tell Will the truth. He’d never believe it.

Or would he?

A/N: So how's it going? Please give me some feedback on what you think of this chapter...I wasn't really happy with the way it turned out, but oh well. I hope you liked it, and thanks for all the reviews I've been getting! They make me so happy! Anyways, watch for the next chappie. It'll be called, "The Importance of Being Elizabeth."

Chapter 4: The Importance of Being Elizabeth
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A/N: Hey guys, I am so incredibly sorry that I took so long to update...well anyway...enjoy!

The Importance of Being Elizabeth

“Look, Mr. Turner, I’m serious…you won’t believe it…” Hermione sighed, “…but if you insist…”

“Hermione!” Ron hissed, grabbing her sleeve again. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t tell him!”

“Can’t tell me WHAT?” Will’s eyes narrowed.

“Ron...” she hissed right back, “we have no choice. It’s the truth, or the Commodore.”

“Oh...” Ron looked at Harry, who nodded. They had no choice.

“All right, Mr. Turner...this is the deal: my friends and I are from the twentieth century...” Hermione paused as Will’s eyebrows shot up disbelievingly, “...and we’re stuck here in Port Royal. We haven’t figured out how to get back yet. That’s why we speak differently and dress differently.”

Silence filled the smithy. It was randomly broken by Mr. Brown’s snoring. Ginny glanced at Harry angrily. How could he just stand there and let Hermione give it all away? Hadn’t they decided not to use their wands? And if they weren’t using magic to avoid being hunted and whatnot, then wasn’t it a given that they not TELL people they were magical?

“I beg your pardon,” Will said slowly, “but did you just say what I believe you said?”


“You four are from the year 1900?” Will looked rather close to laughter.

“Well, sort of...the 1990s actually,” Hermione continued.

Will gave a slight chuckle. “And just how, young miss, did you arrive in Port Royal?”

Hermione crossed her arms, unintentionally mimicking him. “For starters, stop referring to us as ‘children’ and ‘young people,’ please. You can’t be THAT much older than we are…and we aren’t exactly sure how we got here. It was sort of a mistake,” she sent Ron a glare, “and…actually, you may not like this bit either…”

Will kept smiling, and gestured for her to continue.

“We were caught in a magic charm performed by Ron’s wand.”

“Is that so?” Will said it more as a statement than a question.

Another snore-filled moment passed.







Will’s face was a comic mix between seriousness and a potential grin.

“If you’re going to invent a story, as least make it believable.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged shocked glances, as Ron asked, “You don’t believe us?” he turned to his girlfriend and repeated it. “He doesn’t believe you—“

“I sensed that, Ronald,” she cut him off sharply. “Listen, Turner—“

“Please, call me Will,” the blacksmith interrupted.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Will. That’s the truth. Really.”

“Of course…Will stepped away from the door, letting them out of the small room. They scurried out, glad to be rid of the dark, enclosed space. “I suppose, since I AM such a dear friend of yours, and you apparently have no real clothes, nor a place to stay, that I should do something about it. In the meantime, try to think up a better story than the one you just told me.”

Harry stepped forward. “Uh, maybe you should know our names first…I’m Harry, and this is Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.”

Will nodded. “Well, at least your names aren’t far-fetched. All right, Harry and Ron, I suppose you’ll stay with me tonight. There’s a room next to mine in the attic that you can share,” he looked at the girls. “And as for you…Hermione and Ginny…since you seem to have no knowledge of customs nor manners, perhaps you ought to stay with Elizabeth. I don’t think she would mind…” he began to walk away, patting his shoulders to rid his clothing of dust.

“Oh, thanks so much, Will! How can we ever repay you?” Hermione gushed.

Will smiled at her over his shoulder.

“Elizabeth Swann? The Governor’s daughter?” Ginny looked at Harry.

“Yes,” answered Will as he put on his coat, and brushed off any lingering traces of soot.

“But won’t it be awkward trying to get us into the mansion?” asked Hermione, sticking her hands into her jean pockets.

“No, not terribly,” Will smiled again, this time mysteriously. “I know the scullery maid.”


A mere ten minutes later, Hermione and Ginny leaned against each other for support. Will had led them through the back alleys (so that they wouldn’t be seen in their ‘indecent’ clothes) at an extremely fast pace. Now, they had finally arrived at the Governor’s mansion. It was a huge, impressionable house, and looked much larger that it had on the television screen.

Will seemed to be full of energy. He looked over his shoulder at the girls, and grinned. “Come on, it’s just right there,” he pointed at the house behind the wall.

Ginny nodded and began to follow him, but Hermione held her back. “What?” she asked, confused.

“We’ve got to tell Will that the town is going to be—“ Hermione started, but was cut off by Will, who was now several feet away.

“Am I going too fast for you?” he chuckled.

“NOW you ask…” Ginny growled as they caught up with him at the wall.

He led them around back, to where there was a small latch-gate, probably for the servant’s use. “Through here,” his voice got softer, “…now…the story is that you’re friends of mine from England, and that you were robbed…does that sound like a plausible explanation for your clothing?”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Hermione nodded.

“Very well, that’s it, then. And please, don’t tell Elizabeth that outlandish story. Stick to this one,” he said as he led them into the back garden.

“We will, don’t worry,” Ginny took a deep breath, trying to ease the stitch in her side. It almost felt as though she had never trained for Quidditch a day in her life.

“Here we are,” Will stepped up to the porch, and knocked on the weather-beaten door.

A pretty girl of about 15, with bright rosy cheeks, and a head full of strawberry bond curls, opened the door. She grinned. “ ‘ello, Will!”

“Good morning, Carrie,” he greeted her. “Listen, I’ve a favor to ask of you,” he stepped a bit closer to her, and she blushed. “I need you to go find Mary, and bring her down here.”

“What for?” she asked, catching sight of Ginny and Hermione as they came up behind him.

“These young ladies, friends of mine, need a place to stay. They’re cold, hungry, and they were robbed by pirates on their way here.”

“Pirates? Well, why dincha say so?” the scullery maid instantly stepped aside, holding the door wide open to reveal a vast kitchen. “Come in, come in, I’ll run ter fetch Mary,” she called as she dashed off through another door.

Will stepped into the warm room, the girls following him, as a robust Jamaican native, with a very good grasp of the English tongue, called after the maid. “Carrie! Where be dat gurl goin’ eh? Nah, she be un flighty gurl, a flighty gurl…”

A red-faced woman standing by the fireplace stirring something in a big black kettle, answered her. “Aw, Taimy, quit yer moanin’. Can’t you see we’ve got guests?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Henry,” Will spoke politely to the cook, who smiled, making her face seem somewhat redder.

“Good morning, Mr. Turner. Taimy, say hello to Mr. Turner!” she scolded the black girl.

Taimy wiped away some sweat from her round face. “Mornin’ Mista Turna.”

“What can we do yer for, Mr. Turner? Weren’t you just ‘ere this mornin’?” asked Mrs. Henry as she tapped the wooden spoon on the rim of the pot, making a tinny sound.

“Yes, I was, but I’ve come to see if Mary can convince Miss Swann to let these two young ladies stay here for a while…”

Mrs. Henry raised a bushy eyebrow.

Will began to explain. “They are just in from England, and need the best food in all of Port Royal!”

At this, the cook grinned toothily. “Aww, d’ya hear that Taimy? Young Mr. Turner likes ma cookin’!”

“Yes’m…” Taimy began to remove several loaves of bread from the large brick oven that was embedded in the wall.

Mrs. Henry turned back to Will. “Are you trying to sweet talk me, Mr. Turner? Well, never mind that, it worked. Yer all just in time fer the luncheon…Miss…er” she motioned at Hermione.

“Granger,” Hermione filled in for her.


“Weasley,” Ginny smiled.

“Ah, well, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, never you worry, now, you can eat in ‘bout an hour…” the cook paused, brushing wisps of pale graying hair out of her eyes as Carrie rushed back into the kitchen, the girl Mary in tow.

“May I help you, Mr. Turner?” Mary, the young lady that Hermione identified as one of the maids that interacted with Elizabeth in a few scenes, asked.

“Yes, Mary, as a matter of fact, you may. I was wondering, do you thing you could persuade Miss Swann to allow these friends of mine to stay here for just a bit?”

Mary crossed her arms over her tightly laced bodice. “What kind of friends be they, then?” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Ginny stifled a giggle, as Will blushed. He began to stammer. “Come…come now, M-Mary. They’re truly acquaintances of mine from England. They…they just need a place to stay, some food to eat, and some…some clothes…these things I cannot provide, and even if I could, it would b-be most inappropriate,” he watched as Mary’s eyes went straight tot he girls’ pants, “…their clothes were taken from them.”

“That’s right! Attacked b’ pirates, they were!” interjected Carrie, nodding furiously.

“Oh…” Mary softened almost immediately, uncrossing her arms. “Well, I suppose I could try ter get them a room or two. If not, they might be able to stay in the servants quarters…I don’t know if Miss Swann will be in good humor or not, what with her being threatened by that rogue, Sparrow!”

“Miss Swann is in FINE humor.”

Everyone turned towards the door, startled.

A tall girl of about 17 or 18 stepped forward, the door swinging shut behind her. She tucked her ornate dressing robe tighter around her body, and smiled.

“Hello,” she held out a delicate hand towards Hermione and Ginny, “I’m Elizabeth Swann.”

A/N: So, what do you think? I know that there isn't much action in this one, but it sort of has to be that way to set up things for the next chapter, "Cainta and Jasmine," which I hope to finish soon. I should have more time now, because I've put my other stories on check back soon, and thanks to all of you that have been faithfully reviewing!!!

Chapter 5: Cainta and Jasmine
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Cainta and Jasmine

Hermione smiled, and extended her own hand, trying to seem natural. “Ecstatic to make your acquaintance, Miss Swann,” they shook hands, “Will has told me so much about you.”

Elizabeth Swann smiled beautifully, looking over the girls’ shoulders at Will, who had now focused directly on her. Hermione exchanged mirthful glances with Ginny. He obviously had a thing for the Governor’s daughter, and it was more noticeable now that it had ever been in the movie.

“Only the good things, I hope,” Elizabeth shook hands with Ginny. “And what are your names, may I ask?”

“I’m Hermione Granger.”

“And I’m Ginevra Weasley.”

Elizabeth nodded, and glanced at Mary. “Why do I need to be in good humor?”

Mary cleared her throat respectfully. “They need a place to stay, miss…”

“And I’m naturally gracious enough to give them rooms in my father’s house, is that it?”

“Well…yes, miss—“ Mary lowered her eyes to the floor, unsure of what to say.

“I would consider it a great favor,” interjected Will, “and I now place myself forever in your debt,” he paused, then hesitantly added, “…Elizabeth.”

This drew yet another grin from her. “No need, Will. I would be glad to help these young ladies,” she tightened the cinch on her robe. “Mary, please inform my father that we will be taking our lunch above stairs; and have Clara air out the rooms adjoining mine. I’ll show them up…” she motioned toward the door, “…and get them something decent to wear.”

Hermione and Ginny obediently filed out of the kitchen, and Elizabeth look back at Will. “Good day, Mr. Turner.”


Hermione gazed at the dress Elizabeth held out for her inspection. Made of blue silk, it fell to the floor in graceful folds that shimmered in the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

“Do you like it? You may keep it. I haven’t worn it in a very long time,” Elizabeth turned the dress, and held it up against Hermione. “I think it may fit you.”

Hermione was speechless. “This is a day dress?”

“Oh, yes. Exquisite, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, just a bit…” Ginny’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Hermione smiled. It would be good for her to own something that was worth more than the entire Weasley family’s clothing combined. Hell, Elizabeth’s clothes were worth more than anything ANYONE could buy in Diagon Alley.

“Here, have Mary help you,” Elizabeth handed the dress to the maid, who motioned for Hermione to undress.

“And for you, Ginevra…” Elizabeth leaned over her trunk of summer clothes, and pulled out a light pink cotton day dress, embroidered with white flowers all along the hem and neckline,
“…hmm…this is only cotton, and very plain, but I think the rose shade will complement your hair.”

Ginny reached out a hand to touch the dress. “It’s so soft!”

“Yes, I remember that this was quite a comfortable dress. Please, try it on! Oh, and I believe that I have an old rose evening gown of China silk that you may have as well.”

“Oh, Miss Swann, you are far too generous!” Ginny gasped.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no, never mind that talk. And please, call me ‘Elizabeth’…you two being here will be like having sisters!”

Hermione titled her head slightly as Mary helped her into the corset, and sucked in her breath. “Oh, my…”

Elizabeth closed the trunk, and sat down on it. “Corsets are a nuisance, aren’t they? I shall never get used to them. Although this morning was, by far, the worst experience I’ve had with one yet. Have you heard?”

Hermione gripped the bedpost for support as Mary cinched the laces tightly. “Yes.”

“It must have been dreadful…” murmured Ginny sympathetically.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows titled upwards, and she gave a secretive smile. “The losing consciousness part was…”

Hermione swallowed with a bit of difficulty as Mary secured the corset. “You could have died!” she managed to say.

“Yes, of course I could have…but…oh, well, forget I said anything,” Elizabeth commanded shortly, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Don’t tell me enjoyed it…” Ginny sounded slightly shocked, and Hermione detected a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

“I don’t recall saying that, Ginevra…” that same, amused, secretive note crept back into Elizabeth’s tone, although her face remained solemn.

“My apologies, Elizabeth…”

“They aren’t needed,” Elizabeth sprang up from her sitting position, and took the pink dress from Ginny’s grasp. “Here, let me help you. Let’s get you into that gown!”


The afternoon passed rapidly, and before the girls knew it, they had new clothes, had eaten lunch, were given a tour of the manor, had a stroll in the garden, tried on a few more dresses, and then it was time to eat again.

Hermione sat down in one of the chairs at Elizabeth’s private table. They had all changed into dressing gowns to be more comfortable, and never had Hermione been more grateful for anything in her life. The dresses had been beyond beautiful, it was true, but the corset had squeezed her until she had barely enough breath.

Ginny plopped down next to her, playing with the decorative fringe on her green robe. “I wonder what the boys have been up to…”she said absentmindedly.

Hermione took a deep breath to try and ease her aching sides. “What’s this? Curiosity in regards to Harry?”

Ginny shrugged, and studied the pattern on the tablecloth. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, you didn’t speak to him for I don’t know how long, and I…well, have you forgiven him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Gin, do you still like him?” Hermione was straightforward. “Because he still loves you, you know. It’s not as though he broke it off because he didn’t. He had your best interests—“

“I know that, everyone’s been explaining it to me since the end of term,” Ginny cut her off crossly, “but that doesn’t change the fact that he still has feelings for me, and that any dark force associate with You-Know-Who could still use me as bait, or hurt me, or whatever.”

“Gin,” Hermione spoke gently, “you know that doesn’t matter. He was just trying to do what was best…and you didn’t answer my question.”

Ginny frowned, and glared at Hermione.

Hermione gasped, and gave a sudden burst of laughter, even though it burned her lungs and sides to do so. “Oh, Merlin, Gin, you DO still love him! Don’t act like you don’t…you can’t tell me you hate him! Oh, God, Ginny…”

Hermione continued to giggle, and eventually, Ginny felt herself blush, and a small, somewhat reluctant smile found it’s way to her lips.

“And what, pray tell, is the source of this merriment?” Elizabeth asked as she entered the small drawing room.

“Nothing,” Ginny replied swiftly, sending Hermione a warning glance.”

Hermione stopped her laughter, confused. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t trust Elizabeth.

The Governor’s daughter noticed the silent exchange, and raised her eyebrows, but said nothing more.


The evening passed by in a blur, and the girls began to wonder if they really wanted to find a way to go home. Of course, neither one admitted it to the other, partly because Elizabeth was present, and partly because they didn’t want other to know that they were in no hurry to go back to a world where Harry Potter and those loyal to him would have to face Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Elizabeth’s bedroom was adjoined with another, smaller bedroom, which was connected with yet a third bedroom. These two were given to Hermione and Ginny, who, by bedtime, were quite ready to turn in. Ginny, who had never been catered to before, was quite please and surprised when Mary came in with tea and toast.

“To help you sleep…” she said, leaving the tray by the bedside.

“Thank you,” Ginny smiled awkwardly.

“My pleasure, miss,” Mary curtsied, and carried the other small tray to Hermione’s door.

Ginny waited until she was sure she’d left Hermione’s room, the leapt out from under the covers. She knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came Hermione’s polite voice.

Ginny opened the door, and, pulling her loose nightgown closer around her thin body, she tiptoed in. Hermione was sitting up, sipping from the finely chiseled china.

She grinned at her boyfriend’s sister. “Nice treatment, huh?”

Ginny gingerly perched on the edge of the bed to avoid Hermione spilling any of the hot, steaming tea. “Yeah,” she admitted, smiling back, hugging her knees, “nice. Mum and Dad would die if they saw us in this finery…” her voice trailed off.

Hermione changed the subject. “Did you taste the tea? It’s delicious.”

“No, thanks, I’m not hungry. Besides, I can never sleep on a full stomach,” Ginny shook her head. “Smells good, though…what is that? Jasmine?”

“Yes, I believe so…” Hermione took a good whiff of the steam rising from her cup.

“I wonder where they got it…” Ginny mused aloud as Hermione abandoned her manners without warning, gulping down the rest of the tea, and moved on to the lightly buttered toast. “The jasmine, I mean. It doesn’t grow in the Caribbean, does it?”

Hermione looked up excitedly. “Actually, the Orient is—“

“Never mind,” Ginny held up her hands. “I’m getting sleepy, and don’t need a geography lesson just now. Nor Herbology, thank you.”

“All right then,” Hermione let a strange smile slip onto her face, “Good night,” she suddenly suppressed a yawn. Ginny laughed, but marveled at the fact that Hermione didn’t seem angry in the least at been deprived of sharing information. “S’cuse me, Gin,” Hermione yawned again. “This tea must have hit the spot.”

Ginny slid off the edge of the high bed, the folds of her nightgown falling in waves. “Guess so…” she began to turn away, then glanced back. “Mione?”


“Can you really believe we’re here?” she asked softly.

Hermione shook her head. “Not really. It’s all so fantastic and far-fetched…oh, my goodness!”

“What’s wrong?” Ginny jumped at Hermione’s exclamation.

“I forgot to kiss Ron good-bye when Will brought us here! I can’t go to bed without—“

“Oh, come off it…they’re at the Blacksmith’s shop,” Ginny made her way towards her door, “you’ll just have to wait until morning.”

“Wait, Gin!” Hermione tumbled out of bed loudly, the sheets trailing behind her. “Come with me to the Smithy!”

Gin turned swiftly. “Keep your voice down. Are you mental? I’m getting sleepy, and by the sound of those yawns, so are you…we’re not about to go trekking down to that shop, just for you to give my brother a good night snog!”

Hermione looked at the candles on her nightstand, and said, “Fine. Be like that. Some friend you are!”

Ginny turned yet again, taking in Hermione’s suddenly blankish eyes. “Hey, you okay? You look at though you’ve been drugged…”

Hermione resisted a giggle, and fell backwards onto the bed. “Nonsense, Gin…”

She stayed still for a moment, and Ginny crept forward. Hermione appeared to be asleep. Raising her eyebrows quizzically, Ginny made her way back to her room, and to her own bed.


Hermione waited until she heard Ginny close the door. Cautiously, she sat up. Ginny was right. She did feel as though she’d been drugged…but it didn’t matter. Right now, the only thought that mattered was “Ron”…the idea seemed to possess her, and she was determined to see him before she succumbed to the welcome arms of sleep.

Surprisingly little time passed before Hermione made it out of the mansion undetected. Despite the fact that her eyes kept wanting to close to the temptations of the sandman, the odd pressure to see Ron drove her to the door of the Smithy. She wasn’t quite sure how she got there, considering she had strangely forgotten Will’s instructions. But her feet seemed to know the way, and some part of her head had to still be on straight, since she had at least remembered to grab her wand.

Yawning, she raised her hand, and knocked loudly on the door three times. She heard the pounding of Will’s work halt, and a moment later, he’d opened the door slightly. When he saw that it was her, he immediately opened it wider, and said in a shocked, but pleasantly surprised tone, “Why, Miss Hermione! Whatever are you doing out this late?”

“I need to see Ronald and Harry…is that all right?” she asked urgently.

Will looked skeptical, but nodded nevertheless. “Take the stairs…it’s the second door on the right. Would you like me to accompany you?” he took in her appearance, no doubt thinking that her traipsing around Port Royal in her nightdress and dressing gown, then asking to visit to boys in their bedroom, most indecent and indecorous.

“No, thank you, Will,” she stepped over the threshold, and almost tripped.

Will looked startled. “Are you sure you are well, Miss Hermione?”

“Just ‘Hermione’ is fine, Will,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the rickety stairs in the corner of the shop.

“As you say…” Will’s voice faded as she made her way above stairs. She saw a line of light peeking out from underneath the boys’ bedroom door, and stumbled up the last few steps.

Without bothering to knock, Hermione tumbled into the room. Both Ron and Harry were at the ready with their wands. “Hermione!” they exclaimed.

“I thought I heard your voice,” muttered Harry, tossing his wand back onto his cot.

Hermione walked straight up to a very confused Ron, gave him a peck on the lips, and then promptly collapsed onto his cot, facedown... 

A/N: Haha, cliffhanger! Anyways, as you can see, I finally updated!!! Sorry it took so long, but I didn't really have that much time, and when I did, all I could manage were re-writes...but enough excuses...Please review, and the next chapter "The Black Pearl" will be up the way, anyone have a good title for the sequel? It's going to be based on "Dead Man's Chest," obviously, but I wanted the name of the story to have a wizardy element in there somewhere, like this title does. So any ideas, let me know. Thank you!

Chapter 6: The Black Pearl
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The Black Pearl

“Hermione!” gasped Ron, rushing to her side. “Hermione, speak to me!”

Harry stared. “What’s the matter with her?” he asked, joining Ron by the cot.

“I dunno, mate…” Ron was getting slightly panicky, and Harry was randomly reminded of how Ron had reacted during second year, with their giant spider rendezvous. “She looks like she’s been hexed or jinxed or cursed!”

Harry patted Ron’s shoulder, trying not to portray that he, too, was slightly worried at this odd behavior. “I don’t think so…no one else here knows magic—do they?”

They exchanged glances for a millisecond before looking back at the prostrate Hermione. “Mione—“ started Ron again, sweeping her long, bushy hair out of her face so as to see her properly. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes resting gently against her cheeks, and she seemed to be breathing evenly.

“It looks like she’s just sleeping,” Harry said, with a note of hopefulness in his voice. “I don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong with her…”

But Ron wasn’t listening. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and slipped his thin pillow underneath her head; he turned her over gently so that she was lying on her back, at a more reasonable angle.

Harry watched, suddenly wrought with emotion. It was somewhat funny to see bumbling Ron being so tender with Hermione, but at the same time, the actions tugged at his heartstrings. It reminded him that they had each other in more ways than he had them. He knew that the three of them would stay friends for a lifetime, no matter the slight tribulations and troubles, arguments and conflictions, but Ron and Hermione had something extra…he wasn’t about to let them know that watching them could be painful…he couldn’t bring himself to remind them that he didn’t have Ginny anymore.


He turned away from Ron, his thoughts now revolving around Ginny. His emotions were unbelievably torn. He could sense that she was upset with him (hell, it was obvious…she hadn’t spoken to him for HOW long before today?), but he knew her too well…he knew that she had to be thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her. She had to know that he’s hated what he’d had to do. She had to see it in his eyes every time he gazed at her, or even glanced at her. She had to realize that if he weren’t who he was, if he didn’t have the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head, if he’d never had the immense responsibility of the prophecy thrust upon his shoulders, that everything would be different. The people he loved wouldn’t be in danger…they would be safe, the world would be at peace…he and Ginny would be a normal couple, just a boy and girl, without a care in the world. He would give anything to have had a normal life, even if it were for the only purpose of being able to be with Ginny; the two of them together, forever…

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts to stop cold…what was wrong with him? It wasn’t as though Ginny expected them to be together for the rest of their lives…he certainly didn’t expect them to…it wasn’t as though either of them thought they would end up married, or anything—

He froze, as the unbidden image of Ginny in a shimmering wedding dress, holding a bouquet of blood-red roses, and looking up at him with a beautiful smile came into his mind.

He put a hand to his forehead, and found it to be hot. He could feel his heart pounding furiously, and he swallowed slowly, trying to figure out what he had just seen in his mind’s eye.

It was true that Ginny had made him happy…happier than he had been in ages…but he had never stopped to think what life would be like if she were there, always there, by his side. A sly grin crept onto his face. Ginny was so strong, so brave, so funny…she played Quidditch marvelously, she was an extraordinary witch, and she had picked up Fred’s and George’s perfect sense of timing when it came to playing pranks. She was the perfect combination of everything.

He wondered for a fleeting moment what it would be like wake up every morning with her next to him, but he quickly shoved these thoughts away. It was foolish to dream about something that would most likely never happen. He wasn’t sure what would occur when he finally met Voldemort…he didn’t even know when the time would come. It could be in 10 years, for all he knew. But the by the same token, it could happen as soon as they got back to their world.

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione. He wasn’t planning on telling either of them that he wasn’t in any particular hurry to get back to reality. He knew that they would have to try, of course, but it was sort of nice to not have to worry about Death Eaters showing up in the back yard.

“Harry—“ Ron interrupted his train of thought, “What if she doesn’t wake up?”

Harry frowned, thinking hard as he watched Hermione’s sleeping face. “I don’t know, mate. But look at the bright side: we know for sure that she’s not petrified…we know what that looks like. And we know that if she did get jinxed or something, it had to be either at the Governor’s mansion, or on her way down here…” he paused, “…in her night clothes.”

Ron furrowed his brow. “A bit crazier than normal; what do you—“

He stopped, his words cut off by a sudden boom. Harry grasped his wand again, and ran to the small window. He leaned carefully on the rickety, dirt-encrusted sill, one hand on the shutter, and tried to get a glimpse of what had made the dreadful, tremendous noise.

It only took a second for him to realize what it was. From the second floor of the Blacksmith’s shop, it was quite easy to see the glimmer of the seawater. And there, he could just see it: the eerie, ghost-like, fog-ridden outline of a large ship. It was coming into the port with uncanny speed, and without delay, fired a second cannon upon the town.

Harry watched, shocked, as the cannonball cause a large explosion where, an instant before, a peaceful house had stood in the quiet night.

“H-Harry?” stammered Ron; Harry held up a hand to silence him…something wasn’t right…he peered at the ship, wondering for a vague moment who would want to fire upon Port Royal. And then, almost as though the ship had read his thoughts, a ragged flag made it’s way to where Harry could see it plainly.

Even though Harry had led a rather confined life at the Dursley’s, he’d seen enough of the muggle history books to know exactly what that was.

The Jolly Roger.

“Ron!” he said tersely, beckoning him over to the casement.

Ron joined him, and squinted at the smudged vision of the pirate ship. “What is it?” he asked.


Ron laughed. “You mean those muggles who run around the ocean, stealing from people? Those are just tall-tales, mate.”

Harry looked at him straight in the eye. “Maybe they were in the Wizarding world, but not to the muggles. Besides, Ron, what do you expect? This movie we’re stuck in IS called ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’.”

“Yeah, I know, but…but they’re HERE!” it suddenly seemed to sink in, and Ron dashed back to Hermione’s side. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Harry shook his head, not really listening. “I think Hermione forgot to mention this to us.”

“D’ya think that maybe that’s why she came to see us?”

“Maybe.” Harry was trying to formulate a plan, but absolutely nothing came to mind. He’d never had to face a problem like this in the real world…yeah, sure, dementors had shown up in Little Whinging the summer before fifth year, but that was different somehow. Now they were in a strange place, with people who didn’t like the idea of magic; Hermione was out cold, and Ginny was probably asleep, and had no idea of the danger the town was in.

“Look, we’ve got our wands…” Harry started, “so lets just stay here, and try our luck. We can’t leave, cause Ginny won’t know where we are.”

“But we can’t use magic around muggles!” Ron sounded a bit horrified.

“They won’t know…” said Harry, looking out of the window again as another explosion demolished a row of fishermen’s huts. Distressed screams and agonized yells of pain and fear reached his ears. “We can stay right here…cast some protective charms to keep Hermione safe…the pirates are bound to come pillaging. You think we can pull off a few curses from this window?”

“You sure that’s a good idea, mate?” asked Ron, looking down at his wand.

“It's the only one I’ve got…” Harry responded slowly.

The ship grew closer, and the screams of the townspeople grew louder. People were running out of their homes, wondering where the pirates were, and how much time they had to get away. Harry could see more now, because some of the buildings near the beach had caught fire. Despite the distance, the blaze lent quite a lot of light to the darkness. The cannonade continued, and children’s cries were added to the increasing mayhem.

Harry felt his heard go numb. What kind of barbarians would do this to innocent children who had no way to protect themselves?

He felt what others called his “need to play the hero” fill up his chest until he could barely breathe. How could he just stand there, possessing magic, while the naïve muggles were losing their homes and their lives? He had to do something…

…a sense began to overwhelm him, and it was far more powerful than the urge to give aid. He had a feeling that he was suddenly invincible; he suddenly knew that no matter what spell he cast, it would be able to reach the burning homes.

Almost without thinking, almost without any concentration, and almost without even knowing that he was doing so, he raised his wand, and murmured, “Aguamenti Maxima.”

Immediately, what appeared to be a large sphere of water appeared over the nearest inferno, hovered for a millisecond, then dropped, extinguishing most of the flames. The onlookers seemed momentarily shocked, as though not quite sure about what had just transpired.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron sounded incredulous. “How in the name of Merlin did you do that?”

Harry glanced briefly at Ron, who was gaping at him, then looked at his wand. “I dunno…” he answered truthfully, “but it felt good.”


Not very far away, Ginny had been feeling rather good herself. She had drifted off to sleep not long after her short visit with Hermione, and had found dreams of a tall, thin boy with unruly black hair and penetrating green eyes waiting for her.

The dream had been quite lovely. She and Harry had been back at Hogwarts, having picnic down the lake. It had seemed so real to her that it was hard to admit (once she was awakened by the cannonade) that it had all been inside her head.

Despite the fact that she had made up her mind to be angry with Harry for breaking it off, Ginny found herself relieving all their happy moments together quite often. It had become almost a nightly ritual for her to wake up, fully expecting to find Harry beside her, tickling her nose with a feather, or placing light kisses along her collarbone.

More often than not, she would awake to find more than her cheeks blushing with the way the dream had taken an unexpected turn into the realm of fantasy.

But now was not the moment to think of stolen kisses and hidden caresses…sitting up quickly, Ginny turned towards the window. A hazy orange glow caught her eye, and she bounded out of bed to pull back the heavy drapes. From her window, she could just barely see the harbor, and the ghostly barge that was firing upon the town. Dark figures were pouring out of rowboats, carrying torches, and waving gleaming cutlasses in the air. Gunshots were added to the increasing noise, and Ginny wondered absentmindedly if Hermione had known this would happen.

Gasping, she clutched at the curtains, and put a hand to her forehead. Of course! Hermione had tried to tell her earlier, before arriving at the mansion.

She turned swiftly on her heel, and ran straight into Hermione’s room. “Mione! Mione, wake up!” she said, nearly tripping over her long nightgown.

It only took her a second to realize that Hermione’s bed was empty.

“Hermione!” she yelled, tearing all the sheets away from the bed in one fast, jerky motion, just to make sure that her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Her thoughts spinning rapidly, she dashed to Elizabeth’s door, bursting through without knocking. “Elizabeth?” she asked loudly.

There was no answer, not even from the rooms beyond her bedchamber.

“Hermione?” she cried, this time hearing a bit of hysteria creep into her voice. Feeling quite shocked at the fact that she was afraid, she turned and ran back into her room. Thinking fast, she pulled her muggle clothes from back home on under her nightdress, and covered it all with the dressing gown that had been so carefully laid along the foot of the bed by Mary, not so very long ago.

Grabbing her wand, she made to go back to Elizabeth’s room, but was frozen in place as a blood-curdling scream pieced the air.


Back at the smithy, Harry and Ron sat crouched at the window, aiming hexes and jinxes at the invading pirates. It was quite comical to see them hoisted into the air by the seat of their pants, or suddenly covered with warts, or with gigantic boils that popped and exploded unexpectedly. These spells were proving to be quite useful to the townsmen, who ignored the odd behavior, taking advantage of every second the a pirate was distracted, or preoccupied, to run a sword through him, or hit him over the head with a musket butt.

Harry had just Stunned a large black pirate when Ron said, “Oi, Harry, isn’t that Will just there?”

Harry followed Ron’s gaze, his eyes watering slightly. He had started to feel very tired just a few minutes before, but had forced himself to keep aiming spells at the ragged crowd.

Sure enough, Will was in the middle of the street. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and was fighting fiercely. He turned this way and that, blocking every strike, exhibiting senses that were almost wizard-like.

Mentally applauding Will on his exemplary skills, Harry directed a mumbled “Impedimentia” at a scurrying little pirate with dirty blond dreadlocks. He missed by an inch, and a cask of rum exploded, drenching those nearby.

“Smooth,” teased Ron, stifling a yawn. He was getting sleepy as well.

“Wait, Ron, look!” Harry suddenly felt a bit more alert. He pointed to a pirate who had just appeared in front of Will. He was short, and his beard was smoking, and Will looked completely horrified.

“Hey…” Ron caught on quickly. “Didn’t Will kill that bloke a few minutes ago?”

They exchanged worried glances before looking down at the scene below. The pirate threw a lit grenade down at Will’s feet, and laughed as Will took a step back, fully expecting it to blow him to smithereens.

“Suffoca!” Ron reacted faster than Harry had ever seen, and with a flick of his wand, put out the spark that would have destroyed Will beyond recognition.

“That was amazing, Ron,” Harry said, raising his eyes to survey the rest of the melee.

For a split second, he thought he was having a nightmare; further down the street, two pirates were dragging along two slim young girls. The tall one with dark blond hair, he did not recognize…but the one with long red tresses, he did.


He blinked rapidly as the breeze unexpectedly blew some smoke into his face. He tried to peer through the haze, but it was too late.

She had disappeared. 

A/N: Yes, yes, I know, and I'm sorry...I'm sorry that Captain Jack is not in this chapter. I'm also sorry that this chapter is short, although it is longer than the last one. But don't worry, the next chapter, "Of Truth and Bonny Lasses," will be long, and will have an abundance of Jack Sparrow.

I would love to know what you think so far. Also, I'm still searching for a possible title for the next installment. So hop to, heave sail, and leave me a comment!