Hello… Guess who abandoned her story 18 months ago and is now back rewriting the whole thing because she thought it sucked? Yeah…
I got a lot of reviews telling me to come back and I'd planned to… except since them I've moved countries, had 3 different houses and a new school and stuff… Family deaths… Family births… you name it. It's happened.
Anyway, I reread my whole story, thought it was shit, so I've decided to do it again, yay! It will be slightly darker… I was 12 when I first wrote it, I'm 14 now. And there were a bunch of plot holes that I thought I'd straighten out.
Happy reading and please don't murder me in my sleep…
Stealing Away
The Beginning
16th June, 1668
England
"Oh bugger. Double bugger. This is mad, this is insane…" Lady Lily Evans squirmed at the sight of her reflection in the floor length mirror, twisting this way and that to get a better look at the mess she had gotten herself into.
A member of one of the most prestigious families in England, with direct connections to royalty, seventeen years old and beautiful, Lily Evans was stealing away.
In the past two months, six men had made efforts to court her. Had one been successful, she would be frolicking down the aisle in no time, ready to sign away her name, title and freedom in one big puffy white dress. Hurray. Not forgetting the children she would be expected to bear, bringing them up into the world like proper gentry. Locked inside of her husband's house for all of eternity, forever forced to smile and curtsey and be, ugh, polite and awfully cheery and gossipy. No thank you.
Lily had informed her family in no uncertain terms that should this come to pass, she was likely to shrivel up and die before the wedding cake had been cut.
By family, she meant Charles and Petunia, her two elder siblings, both as different as chalk and cheese. Both Lord and Lady Evans had perished long ago, leaving Charles as the heir to the family name and fortune, to be bestowed upon him on his 21st birthday. This also meant Charles wielded the power to ward off any potential suitors of Lily's and wave them in Petunia's direction – a situation that worked all round, in Lily's opinion. Lily didn't face the prospect of becoming a housewife and having gazillions of children and Petunia was given more chances to rid herself of her "demonic" and "petulant" little sister.
But after being given an ultimatum by some distant uncle or cousin something or other, Lily was either to marry by the time Charles turned 21 next year, or be sent into the country with a distant aunt or cousin something or other over eighty to be guided into spinsterhood.
Lily chose neither.
A sailor's ship had come to port just two days ago and they were in need of a few more crew members.
It had been her maid, Mary, who had inadvertently inspired the thought. After helping Lily to get dressed, Mary had been chattering away as usual, from her beau Ethan, the stable boy, to the local gossip.
"Milady," she had gushed, "You'll never guess what came into the harbour the other day."
"A ship?" Lily had replied sarcastically.
"A ship!" Mary then squealed excitedly, ignoring Lily.
Lily had raised an eyebrow quizzically, "It is a port, Mary. Ships generally do come in."
"Oh, no, milady!" Mary then started blushing, "It was from Lord Cornelius Fudge's fleet – the new political favourite? Can you imagine all those captains and admirals… gosh, I must walk down this afternoon, I cannot miss all the young men! They're even recruiting from what I've heard…"
It seemed Mary had forgotten about Ethan for the moment… but it was Mary's words that set the wheels turning in Lily's head.
"Hey Charles…" Lily had dawdled up to him that afternoon with a slightly manic smile on her face.
"Yes…" he watched her warily, it wasn't the first time she had worn that expression… and most often than not the outcome generally cast shame on the family name.
"Well," she started, "Do you remember that conversation we had last week, when you were doing most of the talking and you said something about… what was it? Breaking necks and tearing limb from limb? Because the male gender? Getting involved with me?"
Charles nodded, "Yes, I seem to recall several conversations of that nature."
Lily beamed, "Well worry no more, brother! I'm escaping this dog eats dog world, this world of the female gender, of being taken advantage of just because I happen to have a lovely pair of breasts _ " here Charles squealed and covered his ears, managing to turn bright red at the same time, "- instead, I shall become… a boy!"
This, of course, lead to another lengthy conversation, concerning Lily and the opposite sex, with added begging from Lily and exasperated reasoning, along with her insistence that she was always right anyway, with supporting evidence…
In the end though, Charles came around after convincing himself that no man would ever touch his precious little sister when she was dressed as a man, unless he was particularly queer and even he doubted the likelihood of that.
Lily had told Mary the day after, needing her help to secure items such as a bag for her belongings and some of Mary's brother's clothes. Although Mary heartily disapproved of Lily "gallivanting on the sea" she agreed to help and keep quiet about it. Mary helped to keep watch over the ship and at night made fun of Lily, giggling and whispering thoughts that most often tied back to the males on the ship. Lily wondered out loud if Mary ever thought of poor Ethan and slyly suggested she make more time for her stable boy. Mary gave her an almighty bruise.
Petunia was kept in the dark, although it was unlikely that she would have cared at all had she known. She was often too preoccupied with a whale… a whale who carried the name Vernon Dursley. Just the sound of him made Lily vomit in her mouth a tiny bit.
Charles handled all the preparations, the clothing, the possibility that something may go wrong… all of this was taken care of in little under a week. After Lily was gone, Charles would raise the alarm that his sister had been kidnapped. Guards would search their home, the whole village would be interrogated and a reward would even be offered for her return, just to make it look realistic. Of course, Lily would be far away at the point, and if she chose to return, she could do so without taking any blame.
The plan, if it had not been too clear up to this point, was to employ Lily as a ship hand on Cornelius Fudge's ship, The Ministry, dressed as a boy.
This brings us back to the 16th June, when at precisely 9.43 am, Lady Lily Evans was squirming at the sight of her reflection.
"Bugger, bugger, bugger," she chanted under her breath.
Lily was naturally petite and was not particularly gifted in way of curves or shapes, even with the help of the corsets and dresses she had been forced into… but now… it was like she was a pancake. An extremely poorly made pancake that lacked shape and colour and… well, she looked floppy.
The dull browns of her breeches and tunic blended into one another and Lily vaguely wondered if she should just scrap the ship idea and just lean against walls forever, like a chameleon exercising camouflage. Yes, that sounded wonderful… except for her hair.
Grabbing a handful of it, Lily considered just chopping it off, completing the disguise cleverly put together… but the wild curls that her father had so often compared to fire were a greater part of her than her expensive clothing. But what else could she do? If this plan were to work then she couldn't risk it…
"Lily? Can I come in? Are you… decent?" Charles asked hesitantly from the other side of the door.
Lily snorted slightly and spun round to yank the door open, revealing her blond-haired brother. His eyes widened as he took in her new appearance, inspecting the outfit thoroughly until his face relaxed into his customary smirk and he leaned against the door frame.
"God, Lils… you look awful," and he burst out laughing as though it were the funniest thing on earth.
Lily raised her eyebrows, "Now, now… I could walk around pointing out how stupid your long hair is and how you tried so hard to cover up that one zit you got last month… but I didn't. So shut it."
Charles glowered at her and his hand instantly flew up to his head, where his shoulder length hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, as was the fashion recently.
"We are going to change the subject," he told her, "Your hair, for instance, presents itself as our new topic."
"Do you think I should cut it off?" Lily asked uncertainly, her own hand now flying to her hair.
"You could," Charles nodded, "But if you ever get attacked by some really queer men, then I want you to be able to show yourself as a woman… without showing anything else. Cutting all of your hair off seems a tad too permanent as well. Who knows? You might have to reveal yourself."
Lily nodded, "You're right. I'll just put it in a hat or something with a few pins. That should make it stay."
She quickly piled her hair on top of her head and secured it with a few pins, before tying a bandana over that and then tucking everything into a brown woolen cap.
Another glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions: she was now fit to play her part.
Charles nodded in approval, "That'll do. Just don't forget to do that every morning."
"Don't be-"
"Your new name, if you'll remember is Charlie Jones."
"Of course I -"
"Your parents are John and Anne Jones who died of cholera three months ago. They owned a farm in the country but you weren't able to keep it and sold it at a low price. You wish to join the crew for work."
"Charles-"
"I've got your papers ready, just show the captain and everything should be valid."
"Can we go now?"
"Patience!" Charles mocked the military captains down the streets. There was a moment of silence then –
"Actually yes, we can go now… I've finished."
(
This was the first time Lily had gone to the village without anybody stopping to pay any attention to her. Usually, when people passed her, they would bow on protocol, or at the very least acknowledge her in some way.
But now, she was one of them: A simple worker with no other interest than to keep working to survive.
Lily had packed light, taking only a knapsack which nestled comfortably on her back. It contained onlu a small picture of her and the Evans family; a small pocket knife Charles had given her, a hankerchief that her father had once given her as a child, and a spare change of clothes. Around her neck was a small, decorated key on a delicate chain. It hung low enough to be concealed by her tunic and Lily had not even considered leaving it behind. It was last gift from her mother, with instructions to keep it secret and keep it safe. As a last thought, Lily had also quickly stuffed in her writing set. If things really did get bad, at least she'd have something to complain to.
"This'll be goodbye, milady," Mary said, turning towards her when they could see the docks a fair distance away.
"Aren't you coming to the docks?" Lily asked, disappointed. Mary had been her maid ever since she was five years old, earning her trust. Lily had confided within Mary for the past twelve years and was sorry to see her go. Despite her mother's warning, Lily had shown Mary the key on impulse, and for hours on end, Mary and she had stayed up late into the night, brainstorming about what it was, and why it was so precious.
"No, milady," Mary shook her head sadly, "I must get back to the house. You know how the cook gets when anyone's late."
"Of course," Lily nodded in understanding and embraced her friend, "Goodbye, Mary. I hope we see each other again. And- Mary?"
"Yes, miss?" Mary looked at Lily with a glint in her eye, almost knowing what was coming.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Lily said mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Miss!" Mary grinned at her playfully, "I would never!"
"I just hope there isn't another ship in town when I'm gone," Lily waved her hand, "Just make sure Ethan knows he's a lucky man."
"Oh, he does," Mary nudged her, "Goodbye Lily. Be careful. And make sure you write to me if you ever become a famous buccaneer," she joked.
"Of course," Lily promised, "And I expect to be invited to the wedding."
Mary rolled her eyes, "We'll see."
"This is the longest goodbye ever," Charles complained, "We get it, stay in touch, don't do anything stupid, now can we get a move on?"
Lily turned to glare at him, "I'm sorry, did you say something? Because I'm sure I just heard you interrupting my farewell to a friend I may never see again."
"You just say goodbye, nothing extravagant! It takes about two seconds!" Charles argued, crossing his arms stubbornly.
"Oh, fine," Lily rolled her eyes and pulled Mary into one last hug, "Goodbye, Mary." And then as an added whisper, "Chop his stupid ponytail off in his sleep, won't you?"
"Goodbye Lily," Mary giggled, and waved, then made her way back up to the house, with a sorrowful glance behind her.
"Can we go now?" Charles complained.
"Honestly, I've never met someone so impatient," Lily shook her head but started to lead the way out the door.
"Why don't you look in the mirror?" Charles muttered.
"What was that?" Lily pretended she hadn't heard anything.
"Nothing," Charles replied, smiling innocently.
When they reached the docks, Charles pointed out which ship she would be working for and bid her goodbye.
"Remember, your name is Charlie Jones, you're fifteen years old and you were the son of a farmer until your parents died of a disease. You've come here looking for a job after you realized you're unable to care for the farm, which is in the country." Charles looked at Lily long and hard, "This is a big risk, you know?"
"I know," Lily smiled at him, "And if it turns out I'm a horrible shipman and they don't want me, I'll come straight back."
"Good," Charles smiled back, "I'll be waiting. Goodbye, Lily. I hope we see each other soon." He turned back towards the house, where he had no choice but to stay and take care of the old family house.
"Bye Charlie," she called softly at his back, recalling his own childhood name.
And with one last resigned look at her past, she turned towards her future.
It was a grand ship, with many masts and sails, but a ship nonetheless. Lily was sure it would be cramped on the inside.
"I just hope I don't have to share a room with anyone," she murmured to herself, smiling in spite of herself when she pictured the face of the poor boy if he ever found out her little secret.
A group of young boys, age ranging from fourteen to eighteen, were standing in a line in front of the ship. Pacing back and forth in front of them was a man who truly looked like a pirate. His grizzled face was adorned with scars and marks and a large chunk of his nose seemed to have been chopped off. His left eye was covered by an eye patch and on closer inspection, Lily saw he also had a wooden leg. A large staff helped him limp by, making an ominous dull clunk every time it hit the floor.
"You all want to work onThe Ministry, yes?" he growled, his stringy hair swinging as he whipped round to face the line.
Realizing this was where she needed to be, Lily joined the group in the line, and hastily replied 'yes, sir,' with the rest them.
"Only about half of you will be accepted, and those select few will have to live up to my standards, am I understood?"
Again, a low murmur of 'yes, sir' came from each boy, Lily included.
"My name is Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, and I will be the one judging whether or not you are worthy. Working on this ship is always a hard day's work and you need to be prepared. Understand?" Moody growled, "Step forward and say your name. We'll go down the line, starting with you." He pointed at a terrified looking boy around fourteen.
"Y-yes, sir," he stuttered, "I'm Ludo Bagman, sir."
"And, Mr. Bagman," Moody glared at him, "If you were chosen to work aboard this ship, how would you work?"
"I- I… I would… Very well, sir," Ludo gulped and his eyes shot either side of him.
Moody nodded at the next person in line.
"Arthur Weasley, sir." He was a red-headed boy, who appeared to be older than all the others, with wiry glasses and a tall, lanky figure. Freckles adorned his face, though Lily immediately felt a kinship with this boy, who was a fellow red head.
"Same question, Weasley," Moody barked.
"I'd try my best to live up to your standards, Mr. Moody," Arthur replied without stammering, and though his words may have sounded uncomfortable and eager to please on someone else, he seemed at least sincere and honest.
And it went down the line, John Dawlish, Caradoc Dearborn, Bartemius Crouch, Gilderoy Lockhart, Sturgis Podmore, Stan Shunpike, and Benjy Fenwick. Moody asked them a bunch of questions, sometimes about their future career here, or maybe about their home life. After each question, he'd stare at each boy for a few seconds, and then moved on.
When it came to Bartemius Crouch, however, it seemed he was already known by Moody.
"Your name?" Moody had grunted in his direction.
"Bartemius Crouch. Junior." The boy, around seventeen, didn't flinch when Moody's gaze turned on him, nor did his voice waver when he answered the question.
"Crouch, eh?" Moody surveyed Crouch with a newfound interest.
"Yes, sir," again, Crouch's voice was resolute and firm and Lily's eyebrows raised in respect.
"Who are your parents, boy?" Crouch looked quite ruffled at being referred to as 'boy', but he answered nonetheless.
"Michelle and Bartemius Crouch, sir." Lily could tell that Crouch was quite confused as to where this was going, and she couldn't blame him.
She reminded herself of the cover story Charles had created quickly, in case Moody asked her the same question.
"Bartemius Crouch. Catches pirates, doesn't he? Works with some pretty high people, eh?" Moody asked, his eyebrows raised.
"Yes, sir," Crouch took on a distinctive proud stance, and his pride was only too clear in his tone. He continued, gaining confidence, "That's why I'm here, sir. After working on this ship, I plan go up in the ranks. Father said himself I'm the obvious choice sir."
A smug look replaced the previously blank one of Crouch's face as Lily frowned at his words. All previous notions of respect for Crouch disappeared and Lily dearly hoped he would not get chosen, just to see that smug smile wiped off of his face. She was most likely correct, after seeing Moody's eyes narrow slightly.
"That will do boy," Moody growled, "Next."
Lily's favorite 'interview' by far was Gilderoy Lockhart's. He was an eager boy of around sixteen, and cocky wouldn't be too far out in describing him either.
"And you?" Moody nodded to the golden-haired boy that stood next to Caradoc Dearborn.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, sir," he said proudly. He glanced towards where a single woman stood, gazing at their group with a wide smile on her face. He gave her the thumbs up, and Lily, along with most of the boys she noticed, had to stifle a giggle when he continued to point to himself and the ship.
Moody raised an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior, but didn't comment on it.
"And, Mr. Lockhart, what do you hope to accomplish while on this ship?"
It was a simple question, none too hard, but Lockhart seemed to think it required a lot of thinking to get the perfect answer.
"On this ship, I hope to accomplish…" he left it trailing off, and paused to think some more.
Lily couldn't decide whether to fight the urge to laugh out loud at the expression on his face that implied he was having some serious digestion problems or groan irritably at the time he was so obviously wasting by attempting to answer the question. Poor thing, she sympathized, he doesn't seem to do a lot of thinking. Perhaps he should stop before he hurts himself.
"On this ship," he started again, and Lily almost rolled her eyes, "I hope to accomplish a great deed. I will rid the seas of pirates with my brilliant and flawless sword skills, which, by the way, will only need a bit of honing on this ship and shall soon be recognized as one of the great sailors of the world. Not that it would take a bit of work, mind you; I'm already earning myself a name around. Just the other day, I helped Mrs. Lovegood save her cat from the swaying branches of a willow tree."
Lily blinked. He had ten minutes to think of a suitable response and he comes out with that? The rest of the boys gazed open-mouthed with Lily at Lockhart, and even Moody looked a little shocked at the boy's insolence.
"Well, Mr. Lockhart," Moody had recovered quickly and he seemed to have a dangerous glint in his eye about being spoken too like that, "Maybe you could show us these flawless skills of yours."
His voice was thick with sarcasm, and though Lily was still a little cautious about Moody, she felt herself warm up to him a bit more. Lily had always been an enthusiastic supporter of the life-changing tool of sarcasm, even though it was often frowned upon in her society. Many didn't even know what it was. However, this didn't deter Lily in her quest. The nobles didn't even pick it up. Sarcasm could be dancing on the tip of their nose, naked with all but a slice of lettuce, and they still wouldn't bat an eye.
"Of course, sir," there was definitely a waver in Lockhart's voice, Lily decided. Maybe he wasn't as brilliant as he claimed to be. "But I haven't got a weapon on me."
If this was an attempt to weasel out of a show of his skills, Lily thought it was a pathetic one.
"Nonsense," Moody was starting to look a little more cheerful, "You can use my dagger."
"I wouldn't let any sort of weapon into the hands of that boy," Lily muttered to the boy beside her before she could stop herself.
She needn't worry, however, as the boy just turned to face her and grinned easily, "I wouldn't let anything pointy and sharp in the hands of that boy, whether it's classified as a weapon or not," he countered.
"Very true," Lily agreed, chuckling.
"Benjy Fenwick," the boy held out his hand, "But most people call me Benny."
"Charlie Jones," Lily said, shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you, call me Benny."
Benny grinned again, "Good luck with your turn. I have a feeling we'd get on."
"Me too," Lily said, and they both turned to watch Lockhart and Moody.
"Here, and don't break it," Moody handed Lockhart a fairly handsome dagger that was a bit longer than normal ones. Even though Lily couldn't see the handle because it was clutched in Lockhart's hands, she could tell that would be something to look at too.
"Swing at me," Moody had taken out his own dagger, and spread his arms wide, waiting for Lockhart to attack him first.
"Hi-yah! Take this! And that! Come and fight!"
It had to be the most hilarious fight Lily had ever seen, if you could even call it a fight.
Lockhart was just swinging this way and that, about a meter away from Moody, and obviously under the impression he was doing a rather good job. Lily had to give him credit though… he did beautiful pirouettes.
Beside her, Benny started snickering. Lily found the laughter contagious, especially as Benny started to mimic Lockhart's ridiculous moves. Soon, they were leaning on each other for support, breathless as Lockhart employed a ninja position… then swung down the hand without the dagger in it, forgetting which one it was in.
"Alright, that's enough," Moody snatched the dagger away from Lockhart who stood there wondering for a second where it had gone.
"But, I was beating you!" Lockhart protested as he spun closer to Moody.
"I'm afraid you were beating thin air, though just barely," Moody told Lockhart's flushed face.
"Next!" Moody barked without a second glance to the red-faced boy who entered the line again.
Finally, it was Lily's turn.
"And you?" Moody grunted in her direction.
"Jones, sir. Charlie Jones," she replied. She fixed her voice so that it was deeper than usual, but not so deep that it started to look false. She was determined to keep her voice and gaze steady, just like Crouch's, and was careful to avoid looked overconfident and self-assured, a mistake two already made.
"And, Mr. Jones," Moody started, "Why are you here?"
"My parents died of the disease, sir, and I couldn't manage our farm on my own so I've come to look for a job. I believe this is the best one there is, out of all my choices," she added, hoping a bit of flattery would soften him up a bit.
"You are correct, Mr. Jones," Moody said, nodding, "Tell me, can you read and write?"
"Yes, sir." Her education had been vast and she most definitely enjoyed reading.
Moody nodded to himself, deep in thought.
"I've made my decision," he suddenly proclaimed, and all the boys that had relaxed as soon as his attention was turned somewhere else straightened up immediately.
Lockhart was whispering excitedly to his annoyed neighbor, telling him all about the skills that he knew, and how he was sure he would soon be promoted because of his superior skill above all the other "skinny rascals that haven't a chance". This didn't please his neighbor too much, and Lily thought it not an accident that Lockhart suddenly stumbled a few moments later.
"Weasley, Podmore, Fenwick, Dearborn, and Jones," he stared each one of them in the face, "Welcome aboard."
Wow. Mammoth chapter, right? Like, my hands are hurting. I'll get the rest of the chapters edited like this, I just hated my other writing… they'll be up soon, I promise and then I'll get to work on chapter 7.
Tell me what you think of the changes I've made!
Thank you!
(Oh, and is anyone interested in phantom of the opera? Saw the musical last year and I'm like obsessed now haha)