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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."

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