768Note: First, I want to say that I absolutely love the original Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. Yes, I say trilogy. While there are other movies I prefer to think of the series as ending with At World's End for obvious reasons. But my enjoyment aside, I always thought it a little strange that the events of the movie apparently take place during the golden age of piracy, meaning immediately after the Spanish War of Succession, but we never saw any of the really big pirate names until after the trilogy was concluded. I'm talking names like Edward Teach (Blackbeard), Benjamin Hornigold, Henry Morgan, William Kidd, Anne Bonny, Jack Rackham, and Charles Vane. This seemed a right shame, so I have elected to make this piece as a way to integrate these fearsome pirates into the POC storyline. And who better to tie it all together than one of my favorite fictional protagonists. Hehehe.
Note: The Harry Potter of this story is in a very dark place mentally. He has witnessed the brutal murder of a friend up close, been tortured at the hands of Voldemort, attacked by Dementors, and a whole host of other things that are going to be introduced in this piece. I mention this now because it is important to note that a sane person does not go through all of this and come out the other side the same bright and cheery person they used to be. The Harry of this story is violent, cynical, more than a little cruel, and is going to have no compunctions about engaging in a life of high-seas piracy with all that that entails. Of course that doesn't mean he can't have a sense of humor too.
Note: I'm also working a bit with Barbossa's backstory here. He integrated with the British navy in the fourth movie a little too well for me to believe he didn't have a bit of experience with it beforehand. Plus, I'm curious what he'll be like if he ends up with a captain he can mentor and believe in, instead of a cowardly rapscallion like Jack Sparrow.
Note: I may have recently replayed Assassin's Creed Black Flag, can you tell? Gonna be including some stuff from the show Black Sails too cause why not? I love the show, the characters, and the designs will make descriptions a hell of lot easier. So in the end I guess this is kind of a three way crossover between Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Black Sails.
Note: Fun pirate documentary on Netflix called: The Lost Pirate Kingdom if anyone is interested. I recommend it.
Note: I'm going to include it a little in the story but I have been told I can be unnecessarily vague some times. So now let me state it clearly, the Harry of this story is a big fan of pirate history. He has been reading about it for years. There, now there is no excuse for missing it or why Harry knows a lot of the things he knows.
Note: I'm going to try to get Tia Dalma's accent right here but in the written format it'll be a little difficult. I ask you all to bear with me.
The Dread Pirate Silent Harry
Part One - Screw England! I'm Gonna Raid and Pillage!
"Run!" Harry screamed at his cousin trying to get him to keep moving. They'd been in the park, or rather he'd been there minding his own business when his fat tub of lard of a cousin had come up to insult him, when of all things a trio of dementors had shown up! Acting immediately he'd started running back to the safety of privet drive with his cousin following, but now that safety was in sight the creatures were picking up their pace, as if they knew their prey was escaping. By the escalating pitch of their ghastly wails, the monsters were not thrilled by the thought.
The boy who lived looked around and time seemed to slow as several things became apparent to him. First, the house was close, very close; he could be there within a few more seconds. Second, based on their current position in the air behind him the dementors were going to be on him before he could make it through to the safety of the threshold. Third, Dudley was a very big target.
A dark grin slid onto Harry's face as time returned to its normal speed and he turned just enough to fire a reducto at his cousin's ankle before carrying on. The screams of pain from the bully and howls of victory from the monsters gave him a sick level of joy he'd not felt in ages as he slammed his way through the front door.
"What was that noise?!" Vernon and Petunia rushed into the entry hall from the living room, apparently having been enjoying a set of tv dinners.
It was then that Harry had what would prove to be one of the greatest epiphanies in his young life. Killing two birds with one stone. He pointed out the door, "There was a car crash. I think Dudley was hurt."
"My god!"
"Dudders!"
The distraught parents ran out the still open door and Harry immediately slammed it shut behind them before locking it. It didn't take but a moment for the screams and pounding against the hard wood to begin, but it didn't last long before silence reigned once more.
Oh, such sweet blessed silence. Harry basked in it. From a young age he'd learned the value of keeping your mouth shut. One had to when a stray word or expression could end in a beating after all. The last time he'd ever spoken verbally to his relatives before this night had been when he was six years old and he'd asked for something more to eat than just the bread crusts of Dudley's sandwiches. At the time the Dursleys had not fed him for three days by that point and he was having trouble moving as a result. Now in the present, Harry stared at the hands he still held against the door, at the outlines of faint burn scars peaking over the sides of his palms. For having the audacity to speak up to his 'betters' Vernon and Petunia had forced him to grab onto the burning surface of a boiling pot of water.
The memory only served to enhance the feelings of justification burning in his gut. These weren't the first people he'd killed or caused to die. Professor Quirrel had that honor, but now as then he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. Each of his victims had in some way mocked, degraded, or hurt him. They deserved what they got. Why hadn't he done it sooner? He had to think hard about that answer, and kept coming back to the image of the 'Golden Boy' that society, and an annoying old man, kept trying to mold him into. It was idiotic.
As he removed his hands from the door and moved further into the den the thought occurred to him now that since the Dursleys were gone, he could speak freely with others. Should he do so? The more he thought on it the more he decided that he rather liked his current style. Mainly because it was rather funny the things you picked up, and the secrets others let slip, when you just shut the fuck up for a while and listen. Over time he'd discovered that if you just refused to engage people in active conversation they got nervous, and tended to reveal more than they intended. At first it was a survival mechanism born from life in his abusive home, now it was just his way of life. It was almost as if he'd taken a vow of silence. He only spoke at length to those that had earned his trust, and everyone else heard not a word.
Admittedly it had made making friends rather troublesome, but Ron spoke enough already for three people combined, and Hermione had been dogged in her attempts to engage him in conversation after the incident with the troll until he'd finally relented. Thoughts of Hermione brought his mind to her daily letters and the sweet nothings they contained.
After the fiasco of the tri-wizard tournament He and Hermione had realized more than ever before how short life really was, and had finally acted on their shared attraction for each other. They hadn't gone all the way yet, but in those last few weeks of school the Hogwarts broom closets had seen a lot of their personal use. In this prison of Dumbledore's making those letters were some of the only things keeping him going. Out of all those that proclaimed to care about him, only she had taken the time to ask how he was feeling about witnessing Cedric's death firsthand, and making sure he was still alive and mentally healthy as well as physically. The guards from the Order didn't even come inside the house.
His musings were interrupted however as a silver owl flew through an open window and dropped a smoking envelope on the floor in front of him. Having seen something similar his second year at Hogwarts, Harry leapt behind a couch just as a massively loud voice exclaimed, "HARRY POTTER. OUR SENSORS RECORDED YOUR WAND'S USE OF A REDUCTOR CHARM IN THE PRESENCE OF A MUGGLE. PURSUANT TO THE LAWS PERTAINING TO UNDERAGE MAGIC, YOUR WAND IS TO BE SNAPPED IMMEDIATELY AND YOU ARE HEREBY EXPELLED FROM HOGWARTS. PLEASE AWAIT THE ARRESTING AURORS IN YOUR PRESENT LOCATION!" At the end of the tirade the envelope burst into flames and crumpled into a pile of ash on the floor.
"Yeah, like hell." Harry ran over to the locked cupboard beneath the stairs and cast a quick alohamora to open it. If he was already on the outs with the ministry then there was no use in holding back his magic now. Once he'd retrieved and shrunk his trunk with all his books and uniforms into his pocket he ran up to his room and did the same with Hedwig's cage. His snowy girl was out hunting now but he had no doubt she'd be able to find him later.
Snatching up his broom next he ran out the back door intent on flying all the way off his island country entirely if he had to, only to be confronted with a line of hooded wizards that had their wands in their hands. He quickly raised his own but when the man in the lead stepped into the light he stopped himself from casting anything, though he did not lower the implement of magical destruction.
"Mad-eye." Harry nodded to the man. "Where did I first meet the real you?"
Alastor Moody chuckled with appreciation of the boy's clear paranoia before answering, "In the fake me's office after his questioning under veritaserum revealed I was being held in his trunk."
Harry lowered his wand and the two men stared each other down for a few moments before Alastir looked back and gestured for everyone to mount onto what could only be brooms of their own. "Aye they told me you were a quiet one, Potter. Well, get on that broom of yours and follow us."
When Harry did nothing in response the man rolled his one good eye. "We're going to a safe place. Or would you rather stay here and get arrested?"
Harry shrugged noncommittally but still mounted his own broom to follow the others. The flight through the greater areas of London was mostly uneventful, though Harry often found himself marveling at the fact that no one had seen them. He suspected a great deal of notice-me-not charms went into the mission. The most shocking part was simply landing in the middle of a street. Nothing seemed strange or especially wizard-y about the area, until he was shown a scrap of paper. It read, 'The Order of the Phoenix is located at #12 Grimmauld Place'. Harry was about to ask what exactly that information meant, but as he looked back up he saw that a new building had just come into being.
Moody looked on expectantly for a reaction, but if he expected a big one he was going to be disappointed. By now Harry was used to magic surprising him so he just took this new development in stride. The group quickly entered the building and as everyone else went off in separate directions Harry suddenly found himself with an armful of bushy brown hair. The scent of strawberries tickling his memory like nothing else.
"Hermione!" He gasped, pulling back enough to kiss her. "What are you doing here?" A quick look behind her revealed Ron walking more sedately down the same stairs their female friend had apparently jumped from.
"Training." Mad-eye grumped as he stomped past them. "Been here four weeks now, and she and Weasely are getting mighty good at dueling. Second best pupils I've had in years."
As the paranoid former auror disappeared into the depths of the house, Harry's face wiped itself of all emotion and he dropped his arms from around Hermione's waist.
She must have recognized something was wrong as she nervously looked up to meet his eyes. "Harry?" Her man said nothing in response, and her heart clenched as his steel filled gaze fell onto her. No, after all she'd gone through to get him to open up she couldn't let him revert to silence with her. She couldn't bear it. "H-Harry, please say something." Silence.
Ron finally made it down to them and, not noticing the tension, said, "Harry mate, good to see you. Man, this place is amazing isn't it? Lots of cursed stuff, a library full of magic manuals, plenty of food, and awesome training. You're going to love it."
Hermione rounded on the other boy, "Shut up, Ronald!" The red haired boy gave her a flabbergasted expression but nevertheless acquiesced as she turned back to her now glaring boyfriend. She was starting to get an idea what was wrong. "Harry, I know this looks bad."
"Do you?" The first words out of Harry's mouth were a hiss.
Hermione winced at the tone. "Y-Yes, I do. I… I know I should have told you about this place. That I was here… but Dumbledore made it very clear we weren't supposed to mention this location to anyone, especially you. He said it was for the best."
"Dumbledore!" Harry seethed, "You follow the suggestions of that geriatric fuck instead of being honest with your boyfriend? The hell Hermione!"
"Harry! He's our headmaster, and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. A group that actively fights Voldemort."
"And a fat job they're doing of it! I was attacked by goddamned dementors tonight and no one was around to fight them off for me!" Harry roared before jabbing a finger into Hermione's chest to emphasize his point. "Dumbledore put me at the Dursleys, Hermione. You more than anyone else know what life with them has been like for me. So he will never under any circumstances have my respect. And all of this! You've been here training, something that I could have really used mind you, for four weeks without a word! I told you everything and now I find you've kept something this big from me. How can I ever trust you again after this?"
Tears were falling from the brunette's eyes now as she reached forward to grasp her boyfriend's shirt, trying helplessly to pull him closer to her. He was right. Of the two of them only she had kept secrets in their relationship. "Harry, please." She begged, "I'm sorry, alright. I-I'll admit I shouldn't have listened blindly to Dumbledore. I should have told you everything. Please, I made a mistake."
Harry pushed away from her and stalked toward the stairs, intent on finding a room to lock himself inside to be alone. However, just as he reached the banister he looked back over his shoulder at his girlfriend and growled, "You don't keep secrets from those you claim to love, Betrayer!" before making his way up. The sounds of Hermione's broken sobs following him up.
"Ah, Harry." He was met by the surprising hug of his godfather of all people!
"Sirius! What are you doing here?" Harry hugged the man enthusiastically, all thoughts of Hermione's betrayal currently smothered with the relief he felt at this man's safety. He'd not heard a word from him in months.
"Oh, I live here. This is the Black family home after all. Got the heirlooms, big library, personal vault, and all. Dumbledore needed a place to host his meetings with the Order so I offered to let him use it."
Just like that Harry's happy countenance disappeared and he reverted to silence.
Rather disquieted by the sudden change in his godson's demeanor, Sirius asked, "Harry, is everything alright, son?" He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder that was immediately wiped off.
Deciding that he was too angry to give this man the usual silent treatment, the boy who lived elected to vent instead. "How long have you been here exactly?"
Sirius seemed confused by the question. "Since the night you broke me out of that Hogwarts tower. This is one of the only safe places for me to hide, you know. It's warded up the wazoo."
"Is it now?" In a burst of unexpected violence Harry lunged forward and rammed his knee into the older man's groin, taking a large amount of enjoyment in his gasp of pain as he fell to the floor with Harry kneeling beside him. "So all this time, I could have been staying with you in a home that was, how did you put it, 'warded up the wazoo' instead of staying with the Dursleys?"
"D-D-Dumbledore said you would be safer there… than here." the dark haired man gasped as he tried to suck in usable breaths of air.
"Dumbledore again, that meddling fuck." Harry growled before returning his attention to Sirius. "What about letters huh? You were this close and couldn't send a goddamned owl or put a stamp on an envelope?"
More gasps, "Dumbledore said it was too dangerous. That my correspondence could be tracked."
"So instead of trying anything marauder-like and devious to get around that, you deferred to a meddling headmaster. Of course you did." Harry stood back up and dusted himself off almost lazily. He looked down the halls at what he assumed were a series of bedrooms. One of them had a door open. Before leaving he looked down on the piece of shit he'd grounded. The man was rolling onto his knees now.
"You know, there was a time I would have given anything to stay with you. But now I see you for what you really are. A follower, too worried about the opinions of Dumbledore to do the right thing. If my parents could see you now I'm sure they'd be ashamed to have ever known you." Having said his piece the boy who lived marched over to the open door, slammed it closed behind him, and cast every single locking charm he knew before collapsing onto his bed to think. He knew quite a lot of them.
Over the next several hours a series of varied knocks and muffled platitudes to open the door came through the thick wood, but he ignored them all, simply planning his next move. No doubt Dumbledore was on the way and planning something or other to get him readmitted to Hogwarts, but what then? Was he supposed to stay in a magical world that was headed by a corrupt ministry that wanted to prosecute him? Keep attending a school full of people he could not trust? No. No, he needed an escape plan. He needed to go… somewhere else. But how? No doubt every exit to this house was being watched. The answer came to him around two in the morning, and when it did Harry could only smile at the simplicity of it.
Casting featherlight charms on his feet and hands he glided over the old wood of the floor without a sound and opened the door with barely a creak. As expected by this time of night, everyone present seemed to be asleep. Ever so carefully he crept out into the halls. It took a good thirty minutes of snooping to find the library, and when he did he could only stare. As his eyes perused the cavernous space of book shelves that should not have fit into the building he'd seen on the street, Harry was reminded of the tent he'd stayed in for the quidditch world cup.
The thought came to him then that he had no idea where to begin looking for what he sought when a muted pop echoed beside him. Harry whirled with his wand drawn and saw that it was only Kreacher, the crotchety house elf. The boy had last seen him earlier in the evening when the beast had brought him his dinner. It was a little different this time though. Before he'd been in the room and out in just a few seconds, but now he was bowing slightly, as if in deference.
"Does the half-breed master require assistance?" He croaked, earning a confused glare from the teenager.
"Don't call me half-breed. It's insulting. And why would you want to help me? With anything?"
"Bad master Sirius named you in his will, meaning you would be my master after he dies. To serve is only natural. You also smell of the death of filthy muggles, meaning you are more to old mistress's liking than he is. She would be disappointed if I did not help a killer such as you."
"Hm." Harry was about to ask a question when a second pop sounded and out of nowhere Dobby appeared, waving his hands frantically in the older elf's face.
"No, no, no!" the excitable elf intoned, "The great master Harry Potter already has an elf and he does not need any more. If he needs help 'his' elf will help him." The elf ended his speech with a firm stomp of a sock covered foot.
This… raised some questions. "Uh, Dobby? It's good to see you I guess, but what do you mean you're my elf?"
Dobby looked up at him guiltily and started kicking his feet back and forth on the ground. "Dobby is sorry, great master Harry Potter, sir, but when you freed Dobby from bad master Malfoy he needed to bond another master or perish. We elves feed on our master's magic to survive."
The dots were falling into place. Harry rubbed his face with a hand as he said, "You bonded me then I imagine. Why didn't you say anything?"
"You went so far to free Dobby, how could Dobby impose on you with his ownership?"
Harry squatted down and rubbed the little elf's head affectionately, "It's not an imposition, Dobby. But I need to make sure you know something. I'm planning on leaving this place. And I mean to go very far away. Are you okay with following me? Or would you rather I give you clothes now so you can find another master? It's your decision."
The house elf stared up at him with eyes as round as full sized dinner plates. "You would offer your elf a choice? Truly Harry Potter is the greatest master in the world. Of course Dobby will go with you."
Harry smiled at his little friend, "Thanks, Dobby. That means a lot. Though could you at least call me Harry?"
"Master Harry."
"Close enough. But listen I'm all for you helping me out, but Creature here actually knows where things are so can you let him help me a bit?"
Dobby thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Dobby will let mean elf help master Harry. Meanwhile Dobby will get food, drinks, and tents for the trip, and he will put Missy Snowy in stasis."
"Missy Snowy?"
"Master Harry's owl." With a nod of purpose the elf popped away, and left Creature staring at the wizard expectantly.
"Right then, Kreacher. I'm looking for magical ritual books detailing long distance travel. They need to contain forms and rituals that can be completed within a few hours though as I don't want the other guests here waking up to what I'm doing."
The elf tilted his head. "Kreacher has the library registry in his head. Are you looking purely to travel a distance or escape the filthy muggle lovers completely?"
"Escape."
"Give Kreacher a moment." He popped away and after about ten seconds popped back in, a massive book covered in a thin, crease covered leather of an origin Harry didn't want to think about held open in his hands. "Give this a look, half-breed."
Ignoring the barb, he did just that, and was honestly immensely pleased with what he found. "The Chart-Your-Own-Course ritual." He read under his breath. Apparently when performed right the caster was sent to the time and place best suited to live out their true desires and preferred lifestyle. The best part was the caster was guaranteed not to remain where they started from so Harry would most certainly be free of magical Britain, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and… lying girlfriends. That last one hurt a lot more than he thought it would.
"Alright Kreacher, you see this list of ingredients here? I'm going to need them as fast as you can procure them. I'll start on the runes and diagrams. In fact, I also want every book this library has on wandless and battle magic, the runic arts, and magical strengthening shrunk down and packed in my trunk." The wizard removed said trunk from his pocket and enlarged it for the elf to see.
"Kreacher understands, master half-breed." The ancient elf intoned before popping away.
Three hours later and everything was set. The runes were placed, the formulas laid out, the supplies were packed, three dead chickens and for some reason a goat were scattered in the appropriate corners, and Dobby was riding around on a makeshift backpack on Harry's shoulders like Yoda. All that remained was to activate the rune scheme with a drop of his blood.
"Alright, Dobby, are you good to go?"
"Strapped in tight, Master Harry!"
"Alright then." Gripping a ritual knife he'd grabbed from a display case along the far wall (after Dobby had confirmed it wasn't poisoned or cursed), Harry sliced a line over the palm of his left hand and held it over the activation sequence for the ritual. As he did, the room filled with light and thunder, and then he was just… gone.
Cuba 1712 - Swamp Hut
Tia Dalma was having a lovely evening staring at the bones of the future laid out before her. And oh how grand were the events to come. How sweet and fascinating the weaves and altering paths of fate. Here a decision could alter a marriage, there an assassination could divert a war, and all the way over there… oh, a guest was coming. Rising quickly the dark skinned woman stood ready as a flash of light lit up her little shack, revealing a rather scrawny younger man and a little creature that had to be of magic on his back. Not her kind to be sure, but still, how many critters had ears that big that were normal?
"Greetings, traveler." She began, long used to the surprises fate threw her way by now.
Harry however was still a bit discombobulated from the rapid transport and raised his wand immediately towards what he viewed as a potential threat. "Who are you? Where am I? What year is it?"
The woman smiled in a dark lipped grin. The weaves of fate that circled this young man were just delicious, and the world she saw in his past… yes, she decided she could use that for her own ends. "I do be Tia Dalma, witch of the swamp some call me. You are in my home on de island of Cuba. De year is," she cocked her head in thought for a moment, "1712. You have traveled far, I can sense it."
She gestured to his wand hand, pushed out with a bit of her power, and the wizard found himself lowering it, a soft voice in the back of his mind soothingly whispering that the strange woman before him meant no harm.
At the same time a dopey grin lit itself upon his face. "1712 eh? Man did that ritual work."
Tia Dalma gave the boy a curious look. "Ritual?"
Suddenly realizing how rude he was being, what with showing up out of nowhere and threatening someone in their own home, he added "Yeah. You said you're called a witch? So you know about magic?"
Tia raised her palm and her scrying bones floating in the air above her palm. "Many in dis time do. You need not hide it if you are comfortable with rumors being spread about you. No one in power will believe dem anyway."
Harry shrugged and started taking off his oversized backpack. Along with carrying Dobby it also held all of the shrunken supplies the two had 'liberated' from the Black ancestral home, and a sure to be angry frozen Hedwig. A quick look and nod from the witch told him he was alright placing it in the corner before returning and sitting on the floor across from the woman, dobby meanwhile starting digging inside in search of the magical tent. If master Harry needed to sleep outside then his trusty elf would have his new home ready for him when he did.
"I feel weirdly calm with you right now. Why is that? Normally in a strange place, with strange people, I'd either run or start firing spells off. I certainly wouldn't be talking this much. Did you do something to me?" Harry voiced his question about his weird mood swing.
Tia nodded her head, her smile slipping off into a more serious look. A plan was coming together in her head and to make it work she needed this boy to trust her. She needed to be honest. "Yes and no. I have not actively cast a spell on you, but… I am a goddess bound in human skin and bone. Born of the sea I was, and the sea calms many a troubled soul."
"Huh." Harry summed up his thoughts.
"Huh?" Tia Dalma was confused. "You just believe me?"
"Lady, I attended a school where magic was normal, have met and fought all manner of strange creatures, and most recently I literally traveled through time and space. The prospect of meeting a goddess isn't really that shocking compared to all of that. Besides, you haven't exactly smote me yet so I'll take that as a good sign of your character and intentions."
The witch laughed out loud. Such an amusing human. "Yes, well, you mentioned a ritual?"
"Oh, right. Well it supposedly sent me to a time and place where I can live out the life best suited for me. I imagine it sent me here because… I'm a big fan of pirate history and one of the greatest times in that time period is coming soon."
"Oh really?"
"Yes. About two years give or take. I spent so many years of my childhood reading up on famous buccaneers in the safety of the library as my cousin hunted for me outside with his friends. I always admired their lives."
Tia Dalma's curiosity was piqued by this. "Truly? Pirates are hunted, often reviled, and de are criminals in de eyes of de law."
"And they live free." Harry breathed. "For the longest time I was bound, trapped, forced to live as little more than a slave, but those men and women… they spat in the face of authority and carved out their own names and legends in the annals of history. I envied them that freedom, that chance. I always wanted to be like them, and maybe now I can. I'm in the right time period after all. I won't lie and say I wouldn't enjoy sinking some English frigates. That country never did do anything good for me." Only rage laid in his heart when he thought of his homeland.
The goddess was enraptured by her unexpected guests' intensity. Rarely had she seen such honesty in men. Oh yes, this was fascinating. "What if I could… help you with this dream."
Harry's eyebrows rose before his features turned serious. "You, a self-proclaimed goddess, are offering me, a mortal, aid? Hm, I don't think that ends well in most of the stories. What would you offer, and more importantly what would you want in return?"
The woman laughed again for the second time that night. "You are a very smart man. Here is my offer. I want to be free of this place. It has nothing currently to offer me aside from this swamp, and your magic still has a link to the time you left behind. You allow me to take that link from you so that I may… travel there myself, and I will make it worth your while."
Trying like hell to hide the fact that he hadn't realized it was possible to go back in case it ruined the negotiations, Harry asked, "How worth my while?"
The goddess spread her hands wide for emphasis as she spoke. "I would offer you a sliver of my control of the wind and sea, as well as raising a ship from the depths for you to captain. I imagine your little friend could help you operate it until you find yourself a true crew."
Dobby popped in and nodded at Harry to assure him that he could in fact do so, and then popped away to where Harry could see him pitching the magical tent near his bag. Trusty pal that one.
The boy who lived thought over the offer for a moment. On the one hand he'd be giving up his last link to his timeline and any chance of ever going back. But on the other he could gain so much. He didn't want to fathom how hard it would be to find a ship to captain without the witch's aid. Power over wind and sea sounded mighty useful as well, as it happened. The more he thought about it the more one question kept repeating in his head. Did he even really want to go back to his England? To the blood war, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and lying girlfriends? The answer was a resounding no. Here, in this time and place he had a chance to carve out a new reputation. One that was for him and him alone.
Harry looked Tia Dalma square in the eye and said, "You have a deal. How do I give you this link?"
The witch leaned forward and placed her hand on his forehead over his scar. "Just be still for a moment." Oh yes, the spirit in this scar had several connections to others like it in the boy's original time. It screamed as she tore it free, struggled as she forced it into her mouth, and tried to wriggle free as she swallowed, but no wraith could struggle for too long against the will of a goddess, even one bound in their bones as she was.
Harry gasped as he watched the spectral skeleton being torn from his body before it was consumed by the strange woman before him. "That was inside me?!"
"It was, and now it isn't." She answered simply before taking his right hand in her own. Quickly she spun it around so the back was facing her, pulled a pointed needle from her hair, and jabbed the tip just through the surface of the skin. When she pulled it out a dark dot remained. She looked up at the wide eyed wizard and intoned, "De first steps of our deal do be done. More do be coming as we go. Two years this process will take. Understand do you?"
Harry nodded mutely. Two years. Aye, that worked perfectly.
Time Break
The next two years were some of the most eventful of Harry's admittedly short life. And that was saying something. Tia Dalma had made good on her promises. The next morning after his arrival he'd emerged from his tent to find the caged goddess standing before the banks of her swamp, a massive frigate of black wood and crimson sails sat upon the muddy edge of the river.
Overcome with the sight of such a massive vessel all the teenager could think to say was, "Huh?"
"Dis be your ship, Harry, as decided in our bargain." Tia smirked at the wide eyed reaction. Her powers may be limited in her current form, but something as simple as raising a suitable vessel from the depths was child's-play for one who used to command the entirety of the sea. "It do have forty-four canons including de front chasers."
"That's four more than the Queen Anne's Revenge." Harry mused.
"What?"
"Nothing. That name won't mean anything to anyone for a while yet."
"Yes, well once your little friend do clean it of the muck it will be a mighty ship for you."
At those words Harry looked closer and indeed the ship seemed to be covered in a fine layer of mud. He supposed the woman had said she'd raise him a ship from the depths. He just hadn't thought she'd be so literal about it. "What's her name?"
"She do not have one yet." The woman ran a black nailed hand along the hull behind her. "Ships do have souls, you know. Much as humans, they form a life of their own. Dis one was given no choice in her life. She carried de worst of cargo, humans. When she sank her one desire was to be used for something different dan she was made." Tia looked Harry straight in the eye. "Give her a good name. One dat has meaning to you or your enemies."
A slave ship, Harry realized, as he ran his own hand against the hull. He swore he could practically feel the misery radiating off of it for what it had done. He smiled warmly at it. "Freedom. Your name is Freedom. I give you yours, you are giving me mine, and together we will give it to others as well." The wood warmed beneath his hand as he let go.
"Dobby!" He called.
A soft pop echoed beside him. "Yes, master Harry, sir."
"I know this ship is big, but do you think you'd be able to get it spick and span?"
The excitable elf looked the behemoth up and down for a few moments before nodding, his massive ears bouncing around his head as he did. "Dobby be doing this, but it will take an hour at least."
"An hour? Really? That's impressive."
The elf shrugged, "It's magic."
Dobby popped away and Tia Dalma took Harry by the elbow to lead him back toward her hut. Her other hand pulled that same ink tipped needle from her hair. Once inside she got to work again on his arm.
The rest of his time in the swamps of Cuba was spent learning the ins and outs of sailing under Tia Dalma's watchful eye, as well learning to wield the abilities she'd gifted him. That last one took the longest for a very simple reason…
"Stop flinching." The witch bonked the now sixteen year old wizard on the head as she continued tattooing his second arm.
"I can't help it." Harry said, most certainly without a note of whine in his voice thank you very much. "You're about to get to a sensitive area and now I know what that feels like." As he spoke the former boy who lived took a look at the completed work of his right hand and arm. An artistic rendering of waves in a storm started on the back of his hand and made its way up his arm onto his shoulder. If one looked closely they could see the seas beginning to calm as they reached the top.
By now Tia Dalma had reached the wrist of his other hand and the wizard saw what appeared to be thunderous clouds. "If you don't mind me asking, why is this taking so long? Yes these tattoos are intricate, but one arm took an entire year and you've just now started teaching me how to use it."
The goddess grumped lightly in her throat as she continued her work. "It be taking so long because my body do be bound. I only have so much of my power at any time, and I do be giving some of it to you. It is a trickle where once it was an ocean. Each stab of de needle be more power and it takes time to come back."
It was time well spent however. By the time she finished the tattoos for sky, he'd more or less mastered her lessons on the power of the sea. But that wasn't all he'd done. While maintaining his newly acquired sailing skills he'd also begun etching the interior of the Freedom with weight distribution and expansion runes. He'd learned how to make them from some of the books he'd looted from Sirius' library. Now his massive, weighty, frigate was light enough to cleave through the ocean with the right breeze and its hold, kitchen, armory, and crew quarters had been tripled in size.
Dobby had been downright ecstatic to have so much extra space to maintain.
But now it was finally time. The tattoos were done, the lessons learned, and the Freedom stood as clean as the day she was launched. Additionally, Harry had been keeping track of the date and a certain event of interest to him was fast approaching. A hurricane and a treasure fleet were calling to him. It was time to go.
As Dobby popped back and forth through their makeshift campsite to retrieve all of their items Harry, dressed now in a pair of baggy pants and a sleeveless vest, bowed low to Tia Dalma and asked, "Is there anything else that needs to be done to complete our bargain?" He was not such a fool as to leave a deity without making sure of the fine print.
For her part, the goddess of the sea merely chuckled at the paranoia of her new favorite human. He was clever, witty, headstrong, annoyingly chivalrous at times yet also appealingly savage at others… and after she'd trained him up a bit he'd turned out to be a halfway decent lover as well. Oh yes, she'd taken 'all' manners of education into account during her training.
"No, boy. Our deal do be done. I've taught you what I can, given you de gifts I promised, and you have provided me with de passage to your home. Though I will leave you with one last piece of advice. I have read de bones of de future and seen that you should travel first to Havana. A man is there. One with a big feathered hat. He will be useful to you. Now begone, with my blessing." Tia Dalma smiled warmly, yet mischievously, and in the blink of an eye was gone.
Harry shuddered at the sudden silence of the swamp. "I hate it when she does that."
He turned to gaze upon the deck above him, laid his hand upon the wood of the hull, and a second later he found himself standing before the wheel of the helm. That was a nifty little trick that Tia Dalma had taught him six months ago. She'd claimed that a captain should be one with their ship, and had proclaimed the lesson was as literal as it was figurative. Now he could be anywhere he desired on his vessel just by making contact with the wood and picturing the spot in his mind.
"Dobby!" He called to one of the three crows nests.
A pop signaled next to him and when the wizard beheld his compatriot he found a truly humorous sight. The energetic elf was dressed in no less than five pairs of socks and a red striped white shirt that fell to his knees, he had a plastic hook on his left hand, and wore a tri cornered hat on his head. "Pirate Dobby be ready for orders, Master Captain Potter, sir!" Dobby saluted, accidentally jabbed his own eye with his hook, and spent a good few seconds rubbing it while Harry tried like hell not to laugh.
Getting a hold of himself Harry laid his hands along the newly polished wood of the ship's wheel and ordered, "Raise the anchor and lower the sails. We're off to Havana."
Havana
Situated in the most dangerous docking port of Havana was a ramshackle drinking house frequented by only the most dangerous scum of the island, and royal soldiers of course, but they were often included in that number. At a solitary table in the back sat a man in his early forties, a wide brimmed hat drooped low on his head with a large feather that fell with it onto his shoulder, and an empty mug of what had recently been souring ale held loosely in his miserable fingers.
'Twenty years.' Barbossa thought forlornly as he contemplated whether or not he had the coin or inclination to order another round from the passing barmaid. 'Twenty years and this is how it ends.' His well earned brooding however was cut off as a lad that couldn't be more than seventeen slid into the empty chair across from him. As his deceptively keen eyes took in the newcomer's appearance he couldn't help but note his functional clothing and the extensive tattoo work on his bare arms. A sailor then. Well, he supposed he'd started young enough himself, so it wouldn't be fair to judge.
Deciding to at least try being civil, the man gestured to the room at large where over a dozen other chairs remained empty. "I don't know who ya are but I think ye should be getting off to another chair."
The boy said nothing, just continuing to stare straight into his eyes.
The aging sailor was starting to get annoyed. "Did ye not hear me, lad? Are ye def or something of the like?"
The boy shook his head in the negative and went right back to staring.
By this point Barbossa was getting well and truly pissed. "Oh, I see. You heard about the former, down on his luck, Captain Barbossa and decided to come gawk did ye? Well ye missed yer shot. Everyone else already had their go at me for what happened."
Now the boy seemed interested as he leaned back in his seat, swiped a fresh mug off of a passing barmaid's tray and slid it over to him with a waving hand gesture that clearly implied he wanted him to carry on.
Hector Barbossa eyed the mug for a moment or two before shrugging and taking a long gulp. "Aye, that be just as terrible as the last one." He drank again, then slammed the mug onto the hardwood of the table and in short order yet another was slid his way. He eyed his visitor yet again, and a supremely self-satisfied smile was crossing the young man's features. "Ah, so you seek to butter me up then do ye? What? Hoping to hear my story?" At his nod he said, "Hm, guess ye didn't come to gawk then."
The older man paused, and the stranger was about to wave for another drink when he finally began. Barbossa had decided that he was just drunk enough to unload his woes on this young whippersnapper.
"I started me life in the gutters of Liverpool. Shit place if ever there was one. Got into trouble where I could, fought, scraped, conned, and survived. Until I turned sixteen and it wasn't enough anymore. I'd lived me life all within the same ten miles without leaving, and I wanted more. To see what was out there. After all, anything had to be better than where I was."
He waved his empty mug and the boy promptly got him a new one. The barmaid looked annoyed that some brat kept swiping her wares, but was easily placated by a sliver of silver.
Barbossa took another drink and continued his tale. "Tensions were picking up in the west, so the navy decided to increase its standing force. Recruiters were on all the street corners so I signed meself up as a cabin boy on one of the freighters. One thing led to another, as they often do. I proved meself capable and moved up the ranks. Pirates attacked and I handled meself even better. Took some prizes, even a strange wooden eye that caught me fancy, and moved up further to the point that I was calling the shots on the watch crews. Then the war started."
Another long draft before Barbossa belched loudly. "Our ship got into a scrap with a Spanish corsair. The captain got hit with a ricochet and went out like a lamp. Some of the officers tried to take command but they were a weak lot, mid-nobility who bought their positions every one of them. That be when I stepped in. The men knew me, trusted me, and when the time came they followed me. We beat the invaders back, killed them to a man, and took their ship as a prize. The officers tried to claim it as their victory but not a man of the crew would corroborate their version of events."
The boy gave him a side-eyed glance, as if to ask, 'What then?'
"The Admiralty Board was forced to see the truth of what happened and I was given captaincy of the captured vessel along with a letter of marque. It allowed me to legally attack and pillage Spanish vessels with impunity, and though it wasn't specifically stated it was understood that the French were fair game too. It be the proudest moment of me life. I was born with nothing, and grew to captain me own vessel in the name of my country. I'd found something to believe in. For thirteen years I served dutifully. I fought, killed, traded, and made my government more gold than I can count, and do you know what happened?"
At the shake of the boy's head he answered, "Peace. Peace happened. My letter of marque was rescinded, making all privateering illegal on the high seas and officially labeled the practice as piracy again. The navy took me ship too."
The boy waved his hand in a 'go on' gesture.
The weary privateer sighed, leaned back in his chair, and said, "I shouldn't say they just took me ship, as that do not be entirely true. No, with the war done they retasked her into a different national use to rebuild the national coffers. I was offered the chance to stay on as her captain, but I'd need to be okay with carrying out her new duty." A dark glare grew on his face in contrast to his formerly drink-slackened expression. "I refused to captain a slaving ship. Next thing I knew, me things were being tossed overboard and I was booted from the navy with a month's severance and no letters of recommendation. So there ye have it." He waved the empty mug over his head. "I'm a captain with no ship. A privateer with no enemy in sight. A drunken fool with no plan. Are ye happy now?"
The boy smiled, leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. Then he finally spoke. "Mr. Barbossa, my name is Harry Potter. Captain Harry Potter. Now I happen to find your story quite interesting, and I've found myself in possession of a ship without the firm hand of a seasoned first mate. Do I have your interest?"
Barbossa gulped at the serious expression on the young man's face and waved the barmaid over for another round. He had a feeling he'd want to be more than a little drunk for this conversation.