II - 271 Days

Harry found himself flying through the air before landing on a hard surface. He pressed a hand against his ribs as he breathed harshly.

"Now that was different."

His voice cut through the deafening silence. Sitting up slowly, Harry tried to look around his surroundings, but there was no light to speak of.

"Lumos."

The room was now lit up … but it was not what he had expected. The ring was there, in the middle of the room with some stairs and two podium like objects. Harry walked to them and tried to make sense of what they were, some sort of computer terminals were the only thing he could really think of. Interestingly, they had similar symbols as the ring did.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Turning back to the ring, he ran his hands over the symbols.

"This wasn't exactly what I was thinking." He turned around in a circle. "I was thinking more about a nice meadow with a lake and animals … not a … ship?" He said the last part uncertainly.

"Well, I guess I have my peace and quiet." He muttered and moved through the open archway and into the darkened corridors beyond.

After a while of following his feet, guided only by the light of his wand, Harry entered a room which he assumed was an Observation Room.

"Merlin's Balls!" He exclaimed, his wand arm dropping to his side.

Harry walked past a few seats to stand at a railing and stared into a bright blue swirling light with a mix of a black background and what where those random flecks of white light?

"Nox." He muttered to his wand.

He stayed resting there for nearly an hour before his eyes started to flicker. Yawning widely, Harry decided here was as good as any to fall asleep. He flicked his wand at the bench behind him and smiled at the transfigured bed. He frowned as the bed returned to its original form. He flicked his wand sharply, his frown deepening as the bench stayed a bench. He tried for a third time before deciding to try one of the other seats.

His magic it seemed was just as out of whack here (wherever here was) as it was back at Hogwarts.

Settling into the seat, Harry curled up and let himself fall asleep.

Hours later, Harry woke with a jolt.

"Merlin's beard, I'm stuck in space."

There was no reason for it, but everything in him knew it was the truth.

"I think the Room misunderstood me when I said I wanted space. I meant space, not Space space …"

A rumbling from his stomach made Harry glance at his watch before he laughed. "Is it even worth keeping time now?"

Without thinking he pulled out his shrunken trunk from his pocket and swished his wand at it. He blinked as he remembered the non-existent transfigurations spell from a few hours ago, but the trunk was re-sized without problem. Shaking his head, Harry spied a chocolate frog.

While not the most nutritious meal he'd ever had, Harry was satisfied.

"Time for what, Mr Wolf? Time to … explore some more."

Whistling an offbeat tune Harry exited the observation room. As the door closed, this whistling abruptly stopped, as the bright light from outside disappeared and he was back in pitch black.

"Lumos."

He started to whistle again before he caught himself.

"Why the heck am I whistling?"

He shrugged, "Well how cares not like I'm bothering anyone."

As Harry explored the ship he came across many different rooms with various bits of… accessories. Accessories and bits of machinery that he had no idea how to work … that is if anything even could work or what they were used for.

On the plus side, he found two shuttles which looked like they might have been used for short distance flying. However, one of the shuttles was badly damaged with a gaping hole on the left front and a doorway that would not close. The other one did not appear to have sustained as much damage. Other than that, Harry couldn't quite figure out how he was supposed to fly it, or even which of the many buttons and twisty didgerydoo were the main controls.

It was strange; nothing around here worked … or gave of any clue as to how it should work. The only thing that did work were the engines … as far as he could tell… and the auto-pilot.

Day after day Harry explored the ship and became more convinced that he really was in space, and that the ship was completely deserted. There were no signs that anyone had been here in years. When his magic worked, his theory was confirmed, but it was rather hit-or-miss whether the spell would stick. He still didn't technically have a bed, but a pillow and blanket were easily transfigured from his clothes. When he wasn't exploring he always returned to the observation room.

On his twenty-sixth day on the ship, Harry found himself at the very front of the ship at another observation room. Only this was just more in everyway. More space, more light, more open views, more steps, more benches, more seats. Just more. Harry found himself smiling widely as he skipped down the stairs towards the railings.

"Like this, yessir I do indeedy-idly."

On a whim, Harry made an overly-dramatic wave with his wand and cackled in delight as the bench closest to the railings transfigured into a double bed, decked out in red and black. Harry sat on a chair nearby and waited for the spell to fade. Nearly half an hour of waiting with a cheerful whistling tune Harry found himself convinced that the transfiguration would hold. He laughed as he skipped to the centre of the room.

Harry raised his wand with the intent of summoning his trunk to this room. However, he remembered how the majority of his summoning spells had failed. Generally by denting holes in the ship … once he'd even managed to send a chair into the atmosphere instead of moving it a few feet to prop up his legs.

By the end of the twenty-eight day, Harry was fully settled into his new room. His possessions were lined around the room. Along the back wall he'd spelled some chair into bookcases and had lined up his Hogwarts books by year. Madam Pince was going to be spitting like a dragon when she realised he had twelve different library in his possession. Three general spellbooks, four wizarding fiction books recommended by Hermione, two muggle fiction books, two dark arts books 'borrowed' from the Restricted Section and one book which was written in Parseltongue that he could barely read. His spare clothes were draped over different chairs and benches. His Firebolt was resting against his trunk with his invisibility cloak.

The bed transfiguration was holding, and he was becoming rather attached to lying on the comfortable mattress. Some days he would stare out and get lost in the myriad of blue and black colours. Other days he would wander through the corridors. On those days he would make add to his map of the ship, taking note of what was where, but he very rarely found anything that he could actually use.

He was fairly certain he'd found a control room that could be used to access the ship's controls, but it was all in strange symbols. Harry's linguistic skills were limited to English and Parseltongue. He spent a few days in that room before he gave up pressing random buttons that didn't do anything. With no power to speak of, Harry was confined to using magic to light his way.

Other than the control room, he'd found all sorts of other rooms that he'd expected but could not really use. The crew quarters were all decent sized but Harry preferred his room with a view thank-you-very-much-indeed. Also onboard the ship there was a section of jail cells and a hospital wing. The three different cafeterias were all identical with the tables and chairs. Not that there seemed to be any food to speak of. Harry was still stuck breaking tiny pieces of food and transfiguring it into food. However, while he could turn it into different meals, it still retained its basic taste. Chicken curry with a chocolate frog flavouring was surprisingly tasty. Harry was rather happy that his trunk was full of sugary sweets.

For Halloween he'd stocked up on a variety of different Honeydukes sweets, many of them in high quantities. The mega-boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans were particularly wonderful when he wanted different foods with different basics tastes. Although anything with earwax as its main flavouring was a major no-no, and he wouldn't even think about the vomit flavoured ones. Harry couldn't quite remember why he had so many Blood-Pops but at least they gave the food an … interesting taste… unlike the Cockroach Clusters.

Ultimately, Harry's favourite room, aside from his personal quarters was the armoury. On the seventy-seventh day abroad the ship he found that room and he fell in lust. There were many different daggers and swords on the racks along the walls and rows of what looked like guns, but Harry had no idea how they worked or even what kind of ammo they used.

Regardless of the gun situation Harry was enthralled by the swords. Each one had its own special uniqueness about it. The rest of that day was spent with Harry handling each different weapon, getting a feel for it and trying out some moves that he vaguely remembered from seeing on movies that his cousin used to watch. Some of these moves required Harry to balance on one foot and wave the daggers around in the air, or when playing with the staff he would rest all his weight on said staff and try to high-kick an invisible enemy. Of course, when trying to re-create these moves that he really didn't remember he almost always ended up on the floor, giggling at his mistakes.

After four days of playing with the different weapons, Harry started to explore the remaining parts of the ship. He generally carried either a twin set of curved daggers, a wooden staff, or a twin set of katanas. All were holstered on his back.

By his ninetieth day aboard the darkened ship, Harry had fully explored the ship. He was almost certain that while he could spend the next ninety days pushing buttons on the control panels that he'd found, and eventually something would do something, he really didn't feel like it. Instead he spent most of his time in his quarters redecorating. Well by redecorating, Harry began to move the majority of the weapons into his room and placing the assortment in varying positions as art. And while he was very happy with the artwork, he was constantly being driven insane by the collapsing bookcase. Why the chair was not happy being useful as a bookcase, Harry couldn't figure out, but he dutifully re-transfigured it for the twenty-eighth time.

In the rare times he allowed himself to think about Earth he imagined how much people might spend on his artwork. Indeed, he vaguely remembered Hermione obsessing over a sculpture of what she called modern art and what he thought looked like some kid's handprints in a sphere of cement balanced on a pogo stick. He hadn't actually told her that, but if someone was willing to spend good money on that, then why not on his sword sculptures. Not that Harry would allow anyone to touch them. Or that there was even anyone around other than him to admire his artistry.

It was on the one-hundredth and seventeenth day that it finally hit home. He was alone. He was alone in space on a ship headed for Merlin knows where with no idea how to work the ship. He couldn't even turn on the damnable lights, hell, he didn't even know if there was even power to do that. For all he knew, the ship could only travel through space, nothing else.

He became determined to get the ship to do something, even if it was just to turn on the lights. He was sick on using the Lumos spell. It was way too unpredictable, whether it was the tiny tickle on wandlight to lead him, or the bright explosion of light that filled the room or the annoying little fireflies that flew around him.

For weeks he camped out in the control room pressing every single button there was. When that did nothing, he tried different combinations. Hermione would have been proud; he noted every single useless combination, until the room was filled with parchment.

On the hundredth and forty-sixth day, Harry stumbled towards the shuttles that he had found in the beginning, way back when he enjoyed his solitude. He walked past the damaged one and entered the one that he hoped would work. Only, in the next few days, nothing reacted to his presence. Anything that looked like a control was tried but nothing activated, nothing glowed, nothing had a great big flashing sign that said 'ON/OFF'.

After sixty-three days of constant attempts to work something, anything on the ship Harry was exhausted as he staggered back to his observation room. He stopped in the entrance and stared out at the blue and black atmosphere that had once had held him spellbound. Now all he felt was the oppressive, lonely silence.

Harry walked slowly to his bed, before sinking on to it. He pulled a pillow to his chest and hugged it as he let the tears fall.

The following day, Harry cast a Bubble-Head charm on himself and mounted his Firebolt. He flew over the railing and out into the vast blue and black hues.

When Harry opened his eyes next, he was in a crumpled heap next to the railing, his broom lying a few feet away from him.

He tried the next day, this time with a Bubble-Head charm enhanced with an oxygen layer encased in water. He regained consciousness with a cut to his arm and a dagger in his leg.

The next attempt involved the Bubble-Head charm, the oxygen layer, a pewter cauldron with eyeholes carved out and an old robe sewn on to the cauldron. Harry woke with troubled breathing, a severe headache, a dagger to the leg and a busted broomstick.

Harry tried flying around the room, but with the amount of times that he had fainted and fallen on to his broom, the twigs were all disjointed. The Firebolt could not fly in a straight line, let alone accelerate to the speed it had done to capture a snitch.

He spent the next few days in bed, curled up around a large grim-like cuddly toy.

When Harry began to wander around the ship again, it was with none of his former enthusiasm. He went longer without transfiguring food, and he became almost skeletal like with his pale skin and gaunt figure.

Two hundred and seventy-one days. That was all it took.

Harry's was back in the ring room.

"Why won't you work?" He whispered.

'Why?' He pressed random buttons on the terminals, but as always nothing happened.

"I want to go home!" He shouted, running to the ring, trying to turn manually, but it would not move.

'I wanted' "my freedom, but" 'where is-' "WHERE AM I? I don't even" 'know, no-one knows' "How could they know? How could I" 'be so stupid as to run' "into the strange ring filled with fake water?" 'How?'

Harry collapsed against the ring.

"I want to go home. ROOM OF REQUIREMENT TAKE ME HOME! I am the great Harry Potter! I'm the Boy-Who-Lived! I am He Who Burned The Bad Man. I WANT TO GO HOME! I need to go HOME!

"You can't keep me here forever. I didn't ask to come here, no I did not, no sir, no sir-ee, no-sir-no-sir-no-sir, no sir. This was never want I wanted.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DRAW ME A MAP! Just a stupid map. Just something to point me to where I wanted to go! I didn't WANT to go to a bloody space ship! I NEVER asked for this!

"TAKE ME BACK! Home!

"Beam me down Scotty to the Hogwarts grounds!

"This isn't peaceful solitude, this is EXILE! Why? What did I do to deserve this? They'll never find me, I just be some mangled bones.

"Why did Voldemort get the quick and easy death? I burned him. He died in minutes! But me. Me. I get to die of starvation. I get to die of loneliness.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE! I want my friends. Hell, I'd even accept Malfoy as company. At least I could annoy him until he kills me. That wouldn't be so bad. I mean, it would be Malfoy. Death by Malfoy. Urgh! How could anything be worse … oh wait this could. So yes, Bring me Draco Malfoy. I'll gladly accept the indignity of dying by his hand, so bring him here. Please?

"Why won't you just kill me?"

Harry felt his magic building. Every part of him was shaking with raw magical power. He should have been afraid, but he couldn't think straight. He just wanted to see someone. Anyone. If he was stuck on this ship why shouldn't he have some sort of company?

As Harry staggered back to his rooms, he was lost in his misery; too lost to notice that his magic was still building up.

He collapsed in the middle of his room, tears running down his face.

"I don't," he sniffed, "want," *sniffle* "to be," *hiccup* "alone. Not anymore."

And a building light crashed into Harry.