The depth of the water tinted the glaring LED lights of the submarines a greenish blue, shedding a ghostly glow across the hills and valleys of white sand as they passed over. Surrounding them on all sides, despite it being the height of day up on the surface far above, was an endless expanse of dark blue. The only sounds that could be heard were the whirring of propellers, the muted burbling of thousands of gallons of cold water and the occasional high pitched pulsations of radar.
Fred pressed his face against the small window, squinting into the dark and craning his neck while holding a video camera in one hand. Scanning the horizon for any signs of their mark, grinning from ear to ear all a while.
"It should be just ahead of us now, Georgie!" He turned from the window long enough to throw a grin at his twin before plastering his face back to the class. "Any minute now. Any… Oh blimey, there she is!"
The featureless deep blue parted abruptly before them and the massive hull of the Titanic, the iron corroded and overgrown with algae and barnacles, rose up from the gloom. Haunting testament to the greatest seafaring disaster yet to date.
Fred stuffed the lens of the camera against the window. "Look at that. All that remains of the RMS Titanic, pride of the White Star line, come to rest in the blue abyss after her very long fall."
"Got any more cheese you want to throw onto that narration, Fred?" His twin smirked at him from the controls of Duncan. "I thought we were here for the Heart of the Ocean, not to film an Oscar-winning documentary."
"I don't know Georgie, maybe were here for both." He lowered the camera and switched it off, hastily setting it down before picking up the radio receiver. "Veer 2, we're going over the bow. Do you copy?"
A crackle of static before the affirmative came over the line. The sub rose higher, cresting the bow railing and throwing its ghostly light across the limpid-scoured deck of the luxury liner.
"2:30 in the morning of April 14, 1912. And to think that it's been sitting here, undisturbed, for all this time."
"A good thing it has Fred. We'd need to worry about competition if we weren't the first here."
"Very true."
Dark empty windows gazed blankly out at them, fronds of greenery waving slightly in their wake as they passed.
"Two and a half miles down. Three thousand eight hundred and twenty one meters. Pressure outside: Three and a half tons per square inch. All that stands between us and a two microsecond death are these nine inch thick windows."
"Wicked; gotta love the danger, don't we?" They both flashed matching roguish grins. "Let's land it on top of the officer's quarters and launch Duncan."
"The sooner the better; I want to get in there and see what there is to see."
The sub alighted on the roof of the officer's quarters with a small shudder and a puff of sand. Fred pulled the vision lens down over his eyes and slid his hands into the controls. "Launching now; let's head down along the hull and set in through the window."
"Sounds good to me."
The little drone dismounted from the front of the sub, its antenna curling up over its orange body like the tail of a shrimp, and motored forwards by the propulsion of two small but powerful fans. It dropped down along the whole of the mighty ship, its cord feeding out gently as it did so, and slipped in through one of the windows.
Shafts of light shattered against the decorative metal grating of the ballroom doors. The water was filled with enough floating particulates to make vision difficult and the pictures turn out grainy despite the quality of the monitors their team was using for the expedition.
"Okay, now what?
"Go through. Head down the stairwell and onto E deck."
The wooden walls were in a state of utter disrepair, though whether this was from rot or damage sustained when the ship went down was indiscernible. As they passed by the gaping windows of the dining hall the clouded crystal drippings of a tarnished chandelier caught the light.
Inside the ship the ground was scattered with old boots, broken glasses and numerous oblong objects so overgrown with scavenging see life that they could've just as easily been metal rods as human bones.
"Bloody hell." The broken face of a child's doll flashed briefly across the monitors. "In all of the excitement over finding the ship and wanting to locate the heart I almost forgot…"
"Yeah," George trilled off, "me too."
A large pale crab waived its claws at them in a close imitation of a New Yorker caught in heavy traffic before swimming away. He pointed at the screen.
"There. In there. Watch the doorframe. Watch the-!" He cringed when the dull thunk of the drone's sides lodging briefly in the door reach them and aimed a glare at his twin. "That's an expensive piece of equipment Fred!"
"Were fine, George. Look, he's all right."
They made it through without a scratch, thankfully. An upturn table came into view, followed by a damaged powder table gilded in gold. A long pale fish with a ribbon tail swam sluggishly out of their way, looking unconcerned by the intrusion.
Aside from a colony of more of the rude crabs, the powder table was empty.
"Veer 2, do you see anything?"
"We're over at the grand piano; the thing's a mess. Keys all over the floor, but no diamond."
"Look, Georgie," Fred pointed vaguely in the direction of the monitors, unable to see them with the view goggles still on his head. "It's the bedroom."
"There's Potter's bed. It's where he slept with his fiancée."
"And there's the bathroom. Looks like someone forgot to turn the tap off before they left; sunk the whole ship they did. Rich bastards." He grinned broadly under the goggles.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"Go back to the right; turn that wardrobe door over. I want to see what's under it."
"Sure thing, Georgie." With a moment's fumbling Fred managed to unlock the drone's hands from their docked position and grasped the fallen door with the iron claws. Lifting.
"Steady. Steady, Fred, it might come apart. There we go. There… Yes. Turn, turn, turn, turn, turn!"
The wardrobe door flopped back into the sand with a cloud of silt and when it cleared both twins had to stare in utter confusion for a good few moments before it dawned on them exactly what it was that they were looking at.
"Bloody hell, Georgie. We found it."
Sand and water coursed through the wide holes of the blue net as the heavy iron safe, corroded green by a century of Salt and Sea, was hauled back up into the sunlight and onto the deck with one of the numerous cranes on board.
"You hear that, boys?" George asked, flinging one arm around his twin and the other around Lee as he rushed up to greet them, "that's the sound of more funding. The sound of celebration. We've achieved our first goal, our expedition's most difficult goal, and now were going to be famous!"
The other members of the expedition had already crowded the safe and yanked the net away. One was already taking a saw to the rusted shut lock. Lee ran off to grab a bottle of champagne as Fred and George bounded up to get a closer look.
Sparks flew. A cork popped. Champagne flew everywhere and the entire boat cheered.
"Crack her open-."
"And let's see-."
"If we've found the 'Heart' of matters!"
The door fell with a resonant clang and a tide of rancid water the color of red clay spilled across the deck, bringing with it a couple pieces of ruined paper. Fred and George both knelt, swiftly scooping up mud by the handful. More ruined useless papers. A leather bound portfolio containing who knew what which was handed off to another member of the team to be cleaned and examined.
No Heart of the Ocean.
"Dammit!"
"The same thing happened to Raldo," Lee put in helpfully. "His career never recovered from it. But don't worry. There are still plenty of places it could be."
"You're right, Lee." Fred said, though his exuberance had evaporated. "Now we just have to explain that to Granger."
"George, Fred, one of you! She's on the phone and she wants to know how it's going." Lee called across the room.
Both twins tore panicked eyes away from the portfolio, in the process of being restored, and made a quick exchange of rock paper scissors. Fred chose paper. George chose rock.
He cursed and ,trembling, took the phone. "Hey, Hermione. Hello. Hi. What are you… Oh, a progress… Yes, well… We found the safe. No. No, it wasn't but there's still over a dozen places it could-."
"Uh, Georgie, you'll want to look at this."
He glanced up and almost dropped the phone. "Never mind; we might've found something after all. I'll call you back." He left phone hanging from its chord and rushed over, nearly bowling over Michael Corner who had been in the process of removing the silt and sand which had gathered in a thick layer across the portrait that had been uncovered.
A young man lain luxuriously out of a fine couch, a pouty expression on his cherubic porcelain face; a vision of Poseidon himself wearing absolutely nothing but the cold air and a necklace which looked suspiciously like the one that they were hoping to find.
"Cho, let me see that picture again." She handed it to him immediately and he held it up beside the drawing. His eyes widened. "Shite, it's a dead match. That's the Heart of the Ocean he's wearing. Is this… Potter?"
"Might be." Fred pointed to the bottom of the page. "Look at the date."
"April 14, 1912. This was done the night the ship sank. Records say that Potter was amongst the dead; the necklace might have been on him. If that's the case our job just got a whole bleeding hell of a lot harder."
It wasn't a large home and it wasn't a particularly clean home but it was his home and that was all that he needed it to be. Goldfish swam in a bowl and a small end table. His grandson grumbled at his lapdog, Hedwig, as she danced around his feet begging to be fed. Harry sat reclined in a chair in the warm sun of the closed in porch, cane leaned against the arm and a small smile on his face.
The television played in the background. A news report of some kind though he couldn't hear the reporter well at all. A ship? They had found a ship? He reached up and turned up the volume on his hearing aids only to have his heart nearly give out from the surprise when he at last caught the name of the ship that they had been discussing.
The Titanic.
Dear Lord, nearly a hundred and one is too old for these sorts of shocks! He thought exasperatedly, pushing himself back onto his feet with some difficulty and with assistance from his cane hobbling inside to get a better look at the news report. When he saw the portrait being displayed on the small screen of the little TV the blood drained from his face and he nearly toppled over despite the cane, just barely managing to catch himself against the table. "God dammit all to hell!"
"Grandfather," his 24-year-old grandson poked his head into the room from the kitchen, "is something the matter?"
"No. Nothing is the matter, Albus, dear." He was quick to assure him. "Help me to the phone. I need to make a call."
"Fred! George!" over the whirr of the engine of the launching submarines the twins looked up to see Lee running towards them. "Fred! George! There's a call for you on the collect line."
"Unfortunate: bad timing." Fred said. "Hope it's not Hermione. We'd never hear the end of that one."
"Tell them to call back, Lee. We're in the middle of launching-."
"Trust me," he said, stone faced as he clasped friend's arm, "you want to take this call."
The twins exchanged half curious half concerned looks and then nodded to each other.
"Hate to miss out on a day of diving-."
"But I'm sure they can manage without us for one night. Lead the way."
They follow Lee over to the table where the radio phone had been set up and both pulled on headset.
"Talk loudly; he's old."
"What?"
"Old!"
"Oh. Okay." They grinned at each other. "Hello Mr.-?"
"Gaunt." Lee supplied.
"Hello Mr. Gaunt. This is Fred and George Weasley speaking. How can we help you?"
"Weasley?" The voice which came through the line was worn and quavered slightly but was still strong. "You wouldn't happen to be of any relation to the 'unsinkable' Molly Weasley, would you?"
"Great grandsons, why?"
"Just wondering. I was really calling because I would like to know if you've found the Heart of the Ocean yet?"
Both look sharply at Lee who smirked. "Told you."
"You definitely have our attention now, Harry. Can you tell us who the siren in that picture is?"
They could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Of course I can; it's simple really. The siren in that picture, as you call him, is me."
"Are you kidding me, Weasley!" Draco demanded, following doggedly on George's heels. "He's a God damn liar! Some barmy old codger looking for some fame, or else just delusional! Like that Russian tart. Anesthesia."
"Anastasia, you mean?
Malfoy did not react to his correction. "Harry James Potter died on the Titanic when he was seventeen. Right?"
"That's right."
"If he lived, he'd be almost a hundred now!"
"A hundred and one next week."
"So he's an old God damn liar! I've done my background on him all the way back to the 1920s. He was an actor, George. An actor! There's your first alarm bell! He married some tart whose name isn't important, had a couple of kids and moved to some now dead town in the middle of the Midwest. His wife is dead too, now."
"And everyone who knows about the Heart of the Ocean supposed to be either dead or on this boat and until now he wasn't."
Malfoy huffed, turned up his nose, and pursue him down the stairs.
The heavy helicopter landed on deck with a clatter of metal; a young man with dark hair leapt down and quickly turned to assist three more in the wheelchair-with man and small white dog still in it-down onto the pavement.
George joined his brother and approached; Draco eyed the massive amount of luggage which had been brought along. "I travel lighter than this!"
"Mr. Gaunt, I'm George Weasley. This is my brother Fred Weasley. Welcome the expedition." He turned to the younger man and repeated his greeting, offering his hand. He took it and shook. "Albus." He said. "Thank you. For this, I mean. He never did leave it behind, what happened on that Godforsaken ship. Maybe being here will bring him some peace."
Malfoy let out a disgruntled yowl when a fish tank was dropped into his hands. Catching Harry's ill-concealed smirk, Fred and George both grinned. They liked him already. "They showed him to his room and helped him to arrange his things into their proper order and, once that was done, Fred asked "is there anything else that we can do for you?"
Harry looked up at him then and Fred had to restrain himself from stumbling back in surprise; his eyes were crystal clear despite his age and glasses and so intensely green that looking at them almost burned.
"Yes," he said, "I would like to see my drawing."
Albus couldn't believe his eyes and wasn't sure whether he was supposed to stare at it in horror, stare at it in fascination or look away with his face on fire. His grandfather didn't seem to notice his confusion, too busy leaning over the edge of the tank to stare longingly at the charcoal drawing.
It was amazing that after so long under the water not even a single line of it had washed away.
"You are beautiful." He supplied thickly, awkward. He shuffled his feet.
A small, sorrowful smile appeared on Harry's face. "You should've seen the artist."
Large, warm hands with long fingers; one holding the pad of paper aloft the other deftly gliding the charcoal along it. A single fox lick of chocolate hair falling between eyes as blue as the ocean they sailed. There was no lust there, nothing cold. They were warm and open, showing only an earnest appreciation for the beauty before him.
"Louis XVI wore a fabulous stone that was called the Blue Diamond of the Crown. Legend has it that around the time that he lost his head the diamond was chopped too. Shaped into one of a kind necklace called the Heart of the Ocean." Fred said. "It'd be worth more than the Hope Diamond today."
Harry chuckled. "A dreadful, heavy thing. I only wore it once, but carried it around often enough; it was actually meant for my 'fiancé'." His expression darkened. "An awful farce that was."
"I tracked you down through an old claim. One made in total secrecy. If you can tell us who that claimant was then we'll have all the proof we'll need to know that you are who you say."
"I'd have to say it was the Parkinson family; her father if not Pansy herself."
"That's right; it was for a diamond necklace which Harry Potter had bought a week before they sailed and given to his fiancée, his daughter, aboard the Titanic. Which means it had to have gone down the ship. And since that's you in that picture there and you're last one to have been wearing it-."
George appeared from nowhere on the other side of Harry's chair and slung an arm around his shoulder "that makes you are best mate."
"You want me to help you find the diamond?" Both twins nodded. Harry, ruefully, sighed. "The RMS Titanic was named so for a reason, boys. She's a big ship. I don't know how much help I can be."
"Even an attempt is welcome."
"That it is, Fred. We've even got computer-generated simulations to help orient you."
"Want to see?"
He grimaced, but nodded. "Very well."
Albus resumed pushing the chair as they stepped into another room.
"Oh, that reminds me; before we forget again Harry there were other things recovered from your stateroom if you want to see-."
"No!" Both twins and Draco turned to look at him in surprise. Harry turned his head away. "I don't. Want to see them. You must understand, I… I hated it. Living like that. From the outside it was the lap of luxury but from within…" He clenched his hands in his lap, the varicose veins standing out in prominent shades of purple against the pale skin. "No matter how much money you have you can't buy happiness. And you can't ever put a price on freedom."
Surprisingly it was Draco who spoke up. "We hadn't meant to upset you."
"I know. Don't concern yourself." His voice shook slightly as did his hands. "That's view that simulation, shall we?"
"Of course. George?"
"Up in a moment, Fred." The monitor blinked on and, with a clatter of keys, an image of a computer-generated model of the ship and an iceberg appeared. "Okay, here we go. She strikes the iceberg on her starboard side and the entire hull is carved open like a Thanksgiving turkey below the waterline. As the water rises it floods the front compartments, spilling over the bulkheads which sadly only reached up to the E deck."
The model had flooded and now began to sink.
"Now as the bow goes down the stern goes up. It's slow at first but it gets fast fast and soon enough she's got her whole arse… Err, sorry, bum, her whole bum sticking straight up in the air. And that's a big bum. Thirty tons to be exact; should've lost some weight over the summer, eh? Anyway, the hull can't handle the weight and snaps in half to the keel."
The model really was astoundingly detailed and watching it was near enough to make him sick.
"Once that happens the stern falls back to level but they're still attached at the keel and the bow is sinking fast. And as it sinks it pulls the stern back vertical before detaching, leaving the stern to bob there like a Titan's buoy for about two to five minutes before it floods and goes under at about 2:20 AM. Two hours and forty minutes after the initial collision."
And then there'd been the field of debris. The floating. The freezing. Pale skin burned blue. Lapis eyes hazed white with ice. Frozen solid. Frozen open.
He didn't listen to the rest of what was said or see what the end of the simulation displayed. Harry was too busy trying to read his mind of the horrible image of what he had looked like after all his warmth had gone to bother.
"Pretty cool, huh?"
He jerked slightly, blinking away the beginnings of tears. "Thank you for that… Fine forensic analysis Mr. Weasley. But the experience of it was… Rather different."
A drawn out silence in the room before Draco spoke again. "Will you tell us, Harry? About the experience?"
The roguish grin. The supernaturally well-kept hair. Those endless depthless eyes. It would be worth the pain of reliving it just so that he could live and breathe again. At least for as long as the tale lasted.
"I will." Harry said quietly. "But not until tomorrow. It is late and I'm old; you tire early when you're old. The story is important to me and I want to do it justice. I'm sure you understand?"
"Of course."
"I'll take you back to your room, grandfather."
"Thank you, Albus."
Harry didn't stay in his room for very long. Once certain that no one would be around to see him and with his cane in hand he hobbled out onto the deck. Feeling the cold wind on his face as he stared out across the dark waters where his beloved died alongside hundreds of others. Taking his heart with him to the bottom of the sea.
"An ocean of memories," he leaned against the railing, "isn't it, Tom?"