~*~R.M.S. Centaur~*~
by Hatter of Madness

Mr. Jack Connolly was obsessed with the R.M.S. Centaur, the wizarding cruise liner that mysteriously sank in December of 1998. He was prepared to search the entire world for that ship. Everything about it fascinated him, from its passengers to the sinking to the ship itself. He had seen pictures of the incredible ocean liner, and had even gone down to the approximate location of the ship's sinking and wreckage. He had seen the ship multiple times, but he was much more interested in a single item: A diamond one of the young women on the ship wore on the night of the sinking. He wasn't interested in the monetary value of the diamond, but he would do anything to get his hands on it.

He wasn't even sure where to begin looking for the diamond, or even if it was real. He had heard of the necklace and knew it existed, but he wasn't sure if it was a real gem in the center or if it, like the other "expensive" artifacts he found, was fake. He had even seen a picture of the girl wearing it in a scrapbook he recovered from the wreck. The scrapbook seemed to be devoted solely to her—there were pictures of her sunbathing, pictures of her staring out of windows...there were hardly any pictures of her just smiling, and, to his alarm, despite the fact that the entire ship was strictly magic people (witches and wizards), not a single picture was moving.

In the very back of the scrapbook was the picture—the one he was looking for, where she had donned the necklace. The caption read "M. Lewis—December 18, 1998". That was the only picture during the time of the journey.

In the picture, the girl had dirty blonde hair, which fell in curls down her back with straight bangs in her face. She had green eyes, hidden from view in most of the picture by glasses, shaped like almonds. Her skin was very pale, as though she had spent her entire life indoors, with thin red lips and rosy cheeks. Her face was ovular, and, as the picture was not moving, she stared unblinkingly at the camera. The large diamond, in between shades of pink and purple, hung around her neck, and she wore a simple T-shirt and cardigan. The picture was from the waist up; from what Connolly could tell, she had her hands folded in her lap. Though she was an ordinary face in an everyday pose—she appeared to be sitting in a chair against the wall of the one of the rooms on the ship—Connolly couldn't help but think she was very, very pretty.

She looked young, too, around sixteen or younger. From the pictures in the scrapbook, he guessed this was her proper age, though it was hard to tell, as they had been submerged in water for years. He wondered if she even lived through the disaster.

"Are you going down to the wreck again, Jack?"

Connolly had a boat himself, nowhere near the size or importance of the Centaur, he knew, but he routinely went down to the wreckage, just to see the damage done and to see if he could discover Miss Lewis's diamond. And today was one of those days, despite the fact that his colleague, Dave Watson, thought that the diamond, if it existed, was long gone.

"I have to see if I can find it," Connolly said simply.

"For what? The museum you've been trying to start?"

Connolly did not respond, grabbing his wand off the side table.

"Look, Jack," Watson said, following Connolly out of the small bedroom, "we did a little research on survivors. There was no one named 'M. Lewis' on the Centaur.We've got a Katie and a Braiden, but no one with the first initial 'M'. If she really did exist, she went down with the ship. End of story."

"I'm not looking for a Miss Lewis," Connolly said, not looking at his partner. "I'm looking for a necklace that belonged to an M. Lewis."

"There's no record of her even existing," Watson said.

Connolly shoved the scrapbook in his partner's face. "Except this." Watson took the scrapbook from his partner and flipped through it carefully. "None of these pictures give a first name. None of them give a last name either—except one. The one that proves that there really was a necklace. That there really was a diamond. And that there really was an M. Lewis on the Centaur. Maybe she went down with the ship—I don't know. But she existed. And this is proof. And if you care to join me, we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

However, before they could leave, a tawny owl fluttered onto the shop. Bewildered, Connolly took the letter from the bird, which waited patiently for a response from him. Watson wandered over, as he, too, was curious. Connolly unfolded the piece of parchment, on which was written two sentences.

I have heard about your fascination with the Centaur, as I have read about it in both the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, and I know you happen to be looking for a diamond that belongs to a young lady on the ship. I was on that ship, and I happen to have the information you're looking for.

Connolly looked at his partner in interest. "I've got to write back."

I watched Titanic last night (which, by the way, is my all-time favorite movie. Ever) and suddenly this idea fell into my head. I started writing it this morning. I'm not quite sure where this is going, though I liked it at the time. It's kind of based off Titanic (the movie/disaster, but more along the lines of the movie) and um...yeah. I had the Centaur being docked in America because...well, I'm not quite sure really. Whatever. I'm not quite myself today, if I was this chapter and A/N would be a lot longer.

-Hatter of Madness