Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to me. I'm just takin' 'em out fer a spin.

A/N: To Demoncat4, and to quote Jack, "Sorry. Couldn't resist, mate." *grin*

I wrote this chapter between 2 and 3 a.m. so please tell me if I've made any obvious mistakes.

OF GEISES AND PIRATES or WHY YOU SHOULDN'T FOOL AROUND WITH THE SHAMAN'S DAUGHTER

It was Harry Potter's seventh and final year as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and as such he was hip deep in homework. This year he would not only have to deal with the normal insanity that had followed him around like a little lost puppy ever since he had first crossed the threshold of the ancient castle, but N.E.W.T.s as well. They were the hardest tests that the Board of Governors could come up with, and a bloody annoyance when he was in the middle of trying to prepare for a coming war! There was no doubt any longer that Voldemort was only waiting long enough for his loyal followers' children to graduate before he attacked the school and attempted to level it, and Harry as well.

And yet, he didn't want to stop doing normal things. If he just gave up on school and concentrated solely on Voldemort, it would seem like he'd allowed the bastard to change something in him. Harry wasn't about to give him that satisfaction, so he plodded through the exhausting process of getting ready for the two final showdowns, one with his enemy and the other with his education.

Currently, Harry was wandering the alls of the ancient edifice, searching the faces in the moving portraits for someone at least halfway interesting to write his History essay on. He was hardly the only one, of course. The entire senior class had the same assignment, but with the numbers of paintings in the castle, he still managed to be alone in this particular coridoor when he noticed a certain painting in a very dark corner of the hallway just above the Slytherin dungeons.

He was a pirate. That much was obvious. But there was something strange about him, something that drew Harry to him as nothing ever had. Just as Harry recognized the light touch of a mild geis, it was gone, its purpose having evidently been spent in bringing him directly in front of the portrait. The pirate smirked at him. "Well now. Isn't this just interesting."

Harry turned a confused eye on him. "Excuse me, but what's interesting?"

"The fact that you can see me, lad. See, I've been trapped in this scrap of sail cloth and paint for a very long time, and the thing was cursed so that only one person could ever get me out of it" He looked at the boy in front of him. "Looks like you're it."

Harry groaned. "What is it with me and magical obligations!?" First Voldemort marking him as an infant to be his equal, then the Goblet of Fire, and now this. He sighed. "So what do I have to do?"

The pirate shrugged. "Nothin' so harsh, mate. The debt is mine, not yours. All you have to do is touch the frame and I'll be loose, and bound to help ye in whatever fight it is yer involved with."

Harry cocked his head at the pirate. "I could leave you there, if that's what you'd prefer. I wouldn't want you to be forced into a fight that isn't your responsibility." Lord knew he'd had enough of people doing that to him, he couldn't do it to another.

But the buchaneer shook his head violently. "Now don't you go all noble on me, and certainly no for that reason! See, if you don't let me out, then no one ever will! You are the only one who can. It's not a bad life in here, I'll grant you, but it's ruddy boring! I'm a pirate, lad, a man of action! And all I've done for the last two hundred and seventy-five years is sit on this beach drinking rum. Elizabeth would be so disappointed!" He put a hand to his forehead in an affeminate way and made as if to swoon.

Harry chuckled at his antics, then considered the pirate's words. Something was missing from this story. "So, first off, what do I call you?"

The man straightened and said, "Captain Jack Sparrow, of the pirate ship the Black Pearl." He swept his hat off his head and bowed jauntily. "At yer service, lad."

Harry grinned. "Harry Potter. So what did you do and to whom to get yourself in this mess in the first place?"

Jack put the hat back on his head, using the motion to cover the slight blush on the bridge of his nose. "I had a bit of a run in with the Shaman of this little trie of natives in Spanish Florida."

One of the other portraits in the hall snorted, looking up at Jack as his frame was a bit lower on the wall than that of the pirate. "Don't you mean with his daughter, Sparrow?"

Jack glared at the old busybody. "Shut it, you! Mind yer business!" He sighed and turned back to Harry. "Bloke's right, though. The old man didn't care for his girl to be mixin' with the likes of me. I took off runnin' but they caught me. He was a might stronger than most o' the wizards I seen runnin' 'round here. He rifled through all the things I'd brough ashore with me, and he foudn this painting that Elizabeth had done for me of a certain little island that I knew too well. She only gave it to me to torture me anyway. The old man got this crazy look on his face and grabbed me by the neck. I blacked out and the next thing I know, I've woken up on this God-forsaken beech with nothing but an endless supply of rum, turtles and coconuts. And there was this little window floating in the air to let anyone look into the painting and me to look out. The old man explained what he'd done and then laughed his head off and tossed this thing into the deapths of the sea."

"How'd you end up here?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't actually know the answer to that. All I do know is, one day I looked out an' saw kids instead of fish. And there was a couple of doors, now, as well. Here I'm thinkin' maybe the old man screwed it a bit, but they only led to other paintings." He sighed. "At least I had some company."

"What's the rest of the geis?" Harry knew that there had to be something else. Jack had known instantly that Jarry was the one who could free him.

"The Shaman said that there might come a day in the future when someone needed help that only I could give 'em. Other than that person, no living human can see me. They don't even see the picture frame. The ghosts can see me, an' I think Mrs. Morris does, though she ignores me. Annoying feline!" Harry snorted. "Anyway, other than that, it's the portraits and you. That's how I knew yer the one wot needs me help."

Harry thought about the whole concept. He knew that these things never happened without a reason, especially not in this place. If Jack Sparrow could help him somehow in his fight with Voldemort, he really wanted to let him out. Think, Harry. He's a pirate. How can he help you? Suddenly it came to him. "Could you teach me to fight? You know, in the Muggle way?"

Jack grinned, knowing he'd won. "O' course, mate! Scrappin's one o' those things a pirate does best!"

Harry nodded. "All right then. I'll have to ask the headmaster, but if he'll allow it, I'll let you out. Besides, two hundred and seventy-five years seems a very long sentence for one infraction, even for a pirate." With that Harry turned down the hall to seek out Professor Dumbledore.

Jack's grin didn't go away as he watched Harry go. Happier than he'd been in a century, he started dancing around on the beach, singing. "Yo ho! Yo ho! A pirate's life for me!"

This has been swimming around in my head for a while, and it just won't leave me alone. I don't know about regular updates on this one, though. This was about all that I had in my head. I'll figure out the rest later. (I know, Demoncat, I've got way too much going on, but I couldn't sleep again last night. Go fig.)