It was growing steadily darker, and the rain and salt spray was making it harder to hold onto the troublesome broom.
He was afraid to try to make it turn around, because every time he'd tried before it just bucked and then flipped over -- he'd barely held on and maintained control, but now he was sure that his numb fingers wouldn't be able to sustain a grip on the slippery handle. The only thing he could do was make it go up or down.
Geography had never been his strong suit in school, and besides he wasn't sure what direction he'd been traveling, nor how fast he'd been going. He guessed that he'd been going in a generally southerly direction, but he had no idea whether he was heading for Ireland, France, the Netherlands, or...
His stomach felt as if he'd eaten rocks for dinner...he didn't know how he knew, but it was with a definite certainty that he knew he was heading out over the open ocean. Even if he managed to maintain control of the broom, he knew that eventually exhaustion would overtake him...the need for sleep would win out and then he'd lose his grip and fall to the ocean below...
His face was wet from the rain and salty from the sea spray, but the sensation of warmth rolling from his eyes down his cheeks betrayed the fact that he was crying in spite of himself.
Dying would be bad enough, but to die out here, alone...no one would know. Not his mother. Not Lily. They would always wonder what had happened to him...
He fought to maintain control, both of the broom and of his emotions. Crying wasn't going to change the facts of the situation he now found himself in.
But he couldn't stop his stomach from growling...he realized that other than the two waffles that Lily had given him that morning, he had eaten nothing all day. Now he was hungry, cold, wet, tired...
He fought back a second wave of tears. He had to stay focused if he was to survive...
At first he thought that it was a trick of the light and the rain and the tears in his eyes...but he blinked, not once but many times, and yes! He did see lights on the ocean surface ahead!
He willed himself to stay focused and calm, and then visualized himself on the broom descending at a moderate pace -- and the broom responded in kind.
As he descended and got closer to the source of the lights, he saw that they came from a ship. He couldn't tell how big the ship was, but he knew that this was his only chance.
His mother had told him something at one time about clearing one's mind before doing magic...he'd been too young to fully understand at the time, but now he tried to remember everything she'd said.
As he'd done a short while before, he again willed himself to be calm, to remain focused, to think of nothing except safely landing on the ship below. There was only him, only his broom, only the ship. Nothing else existed.
Just him. Just the broom. Just the ship.
He and his broom needed to land on that ship.
Just him. Just the broom. Just that ship.
Him. The broom. The ship.
Him. The broom. The ship.
Him.
The broom.
The ship.
He felt a pain in his knee as something sharp slammed into it, and then something hit his forehead really hard, but before he could cry out in pain something else punched him in his stomach and he let go of the broom and was tumbling head over heels and there was a terrible racket as something fell over him and he found himself lying on a hard surface covered by his broom, some thick rope, wooden boxes, burlap bags, and the smell of old fish...
Someone was shouting in a language he didn't understand. He twisted to look, and only then did it dawn on him that he had indeed landed on the ship. None too gracefully, to be sure, but at least he now had some semblance of solid ground beneath him.
As he twisted, he and the broom slid off the boxes and bags onto the deck. He made sure he held onto the broom...he wasn't sure why, but at this point he didn't feel ready to be parted from it.
Someone was still shouting and saying something in a very animated manner. The boy stood up and brushed himself off, and he saw an Oriental man standing on the deck, illuminated by a doorway just to his left, alternately pointing at the door, then at the boy, then at the sky, then repeating the sequence.
The boy just stood there, not sure of what to do or say, or indeed whether he should even try to say anything at all. As he mutely stood there, the young man standing opposite him continued to gesticulate and talk loudly, and eventually an older Oriental man came to the doorway, wiping his hands on the apron he was wearing.
He looked at the boy and chuckled, calmly said something to the young man who was still shouting and pointing alternately at the boy and the sky, but then stopped at whatever the older man said and stared warily at the boy.
"He say you fall from sky," the older man chuckled. The boy still wasn't sure if he should say anything, so he remained silent.
"He say you storm demon," the older man smiled, and the boy knew that he'd be better off not responding to that statement.
"Maybe you storm demon," the older man laughed, "maybe you stowaway."
The boy continued to stand mutely, the rain continuing to soak him, the wind continuing to blow his long, wet, greasy hair into his face.
"Maybe you cold and hungry," the old man grinned, gesturing to the door from which light was shining. "Come! Come!"
He continued to gesture to the door and while the boy still felt it was better not to say anything, he decided that it would be better not to say anything inside, out of the stinging rain, rather than continue to stand outside in the cold, wet dark.
He walked over to the door, still holding onto his mother's kitchen broom. He realized as he went past the old man and through the door that his legs were shaking, and that he was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.
The old man said something in his own language to the younger man, who continued to eye the boy warily as he backed away, and then turned and went elsewhere on the ship.
The boy collapsed onto a metal and vinyl kitchen chair that was just inside the door, next to a table. He didn't know why -- at this point, he was too exhausted to think at all -- but he continued to hold onto the broom.
"My name Chun Ming Fong, but everyone call me 'Charlie'," the old man stated, pausing to allow the boy an opportunity to respond. When the boy remained silent, Charlie just smiled and shook his head, then went over to a stove that contained many pots that were simmering, and from which issued enticing, if unfamiliar, smells.
The boy's stomach growled loudly.
Charlie laughed and put a kettle of water on the stove to boil. He then took a ceramic teapot down from a shelf and a matching bowl, and when the kettle came to a boil, he poured the hot water over tealeaves in the ceramic pot. Once it had steeped awhile, he brought the pot and a small bowl over to the boy and poured out some tea into the bowl.
"Drink! Drink!" Charlie gestured. The boy laid his broom on the table and picked up the bowl with both hands -- the heat brought welcome relief to his numb fingers, but he was not used to drinking tea black and involuntarily grimaced at the taste.
Charlie laughed. "I think you English boy!" he exclaimed, placing a jar of sugar cubes on the table. "Even if you demon boy, Charlie think you like tea sweet!"
The boy greedily put many sugar cubes into his tea, and was amazed at how good the tea now tasted. He finished the bowl of tea in a few gulps and poured himself another with what was left in the teapot. After again adding many sugar cubes, he this time sipped the tea more slowly, savoring the flavor and the welcome warmth.
Charlie chuckled, turned to the stove, and ladled out bowls of the various substances that were simmering there. He then carried a tray laden with the filled bowls back to the table, and placed it in front of the boy, who recognized one bowl as rice, one as some sort of noodles, but the others were strange and unfamiliar.
"Eat! Eat!" Charlie admonished, placing a fork and spoon next to the bowls. The boy hesitated, but then hunger got the better of him and he started shoveling spoonfuls of everything into his mouth. The tastes that he experienced were strange to his palette, but delicious nonetheless.
As Charlie replenished the pot of tea, the young man he'd sent off earlier returned. He and Charlie exchanged words in their own language, and then the young man stood in the corner, warily staring at the boy, who continued to wolf down the food and gulp more hot, sweet tea.
"So what's your name?" a voice asked from the doorway.
Startled, the boy jumped up, grabbed his broom and moved away from the door in one movement.
"Whoa, cowboy!" the man in the doorway laughed. He wasn't Oriental, and he wore a type of uniform that was light gray in color. While English was obviously his primary tongue, he spoke with an accent that was unfamiliar to the boy.
The newcomer entered the room and sat in another of the chairs at the table, and gestured for the boy to resume his seat.
"Why don't you just park your steed there," he chuckled, pointing at the broom, "and finish eating?"
The boy watched the newcomer suspiciously, but slowly sat back down and resumed eating, keeping his eye on the man.
"You've met our cook, Charlie, here," the man stated, gesturing to the old man at the stove. "And this is Dah Yeu Ling back here, giving you the eye...he seems to think that you're a demon of some sort that just fell from the sky onto our ship..."
The boy decided this would be a good time to shovel an especially large spoonful of noodles into his mouth. He glanced warily from the man to Dah Yeu Ling and back as he slurped the noodles.
While the man had a cryptic smile, Dah Yeu Ling was obviously not convinced that a sopping wet little boy with noodles hanging out of his mouth still could not be a dangerous demon.
"My name is Frank Masek," the man continued. "I'm originally from Baltimore, Maryland, and I'm First mate on this ship. We're a day and a half out of Liverpool, heading for New York."
The boy mulled this over. He thought that "New York" sounded familiar, but he had no idea what country Maryland was, or where Baltimore would be in it.
"I'm not sure how you managed to stow away on our boat," Frank continued, "or how you managed to keep hidden for a day and a half, but we're not going to turn around...which means we're stuck with each other's company for the next couple of days. It'd be nice to be on a first name basis, I'd hate to spend all my time calling 'Hey you! Boy!'"
The boy slowly sipped another bowl of tea, debating with himself whether he should give his real name or not. He wasn't sure whether he had broken any laws or not, whether Muggle or Wizarding. He wasn't sure whether his mother had hexed the broom and maybe she'd get in trouble over what had happened, and he felt he should protect her.
Frank sighed, taking the boy's silence as a sign that he still refused to talk, when the reality was that the boy just didn't know what to say.
"Well," Frank said, "you and I are going to have to see the Captain."
He stood up, and it was obvious that he had decided that the boy's meal was over. Frank gestured to the door, so the boy stood up, taking the broom with him as he went out the door.
"This way," Frank indicated, pointing to steps going up to the next deck. The rain had diminished to a heavy mist, but it was still windy and raw.
At the top of the stairs, Frank steered the boy to the left and down the side of the ship.
"Does that broom go wherever you do?" Frank asked, by way of making conversation.
As confused as the boy was, he realized that continued silence would be considered rude, and that wouldn't help matters.
"It's my mother's," the boy answered, as if that explained it all.
Frank glanced sideways at him, and perhaps thought that the captain would have better luck in getting the boy to talk, because he remained silent as they continued down the side of the ship.
They reached another set of stairs that Frank indicated he should go up, and then Frank guided him to a door that had "Captain" stenciled on it. Frank knocked, and from within an older, deeper man's voice called out, "Come in!"
Frank turned to the boy and in a low voice said, "Stay here. Don't move." He then entered the cabin and closed the door.
The boy could hear both voices, but not what was being said. As he waited, he became aware of a movement in the inside breast pocket of his coat, and he remembered Lily's flower. He checked, and even though it was wet, it was still opening and closing.
Was it just that morning that she had performed her magic on it, and bestowed it on him with a kiss? It now seemed days...ages ago.
He wondered what his mother was thinking at that moment.
Whatever "groovy" meant, he was sure that the day had not ended that way.
The door opened, and Frank beckoned him to enter. As the boy stepped through the doorway, he braced himself for the yelling that he was sure was going to be directed at him.
Instead, he saw a Muggle with gray hair and beard wearing some sort of a uniform, sitting at a desk and smoking a pipe. Frank gestured for the boy to sit opposite the captain, then Frank waited by the door.
The captain took a few puffs on his pipe, watching the boy intently and saying nothing. His eyes, while not unkind, were dark and bright at the same time, and the boy knew that little was missed by those eyes.
"I have a grandson just about your age, I think," the captain stated, taking the boy slightly off guard. "Eight? Nine? Possibly ten years old, I think?"
The boy quickly weighed his options; these people seemed nice enough, but he was in their power, at least for the time being. There was nothing to be gained by antagonizing them by remaining silent.
"I'm nine years old, sir," the boy stated. He saw nothing to be gained by lying about the matter.
"Hmmm," the captain nodded, puffing on his pipe for a few seconds and then he leaned over the desk, offering his right hand.
"I'm Herb Wallace, captain of this ship. You can call me 'Captain Wallace', or 'Captain Herb', or just 'Captain', if that suits you. And you are...?"
The boy quickly assessed his options. He knew that Frank must have told the captain that he hadn't given his name when asked earlier. But as nice as everyone was treating him, somehow he felt that he shouldn't give his real name.
"Harry, sir," the boy answered, taking the captain's hand and shaking it.
"'Harry'...," the captain mused, not letting go of his hand. The boy guessed that the captain suspected it was not his real name by the way the man stared into his eyes, as if he could read his mind.
"And your last name?" the captain asked, letting go of the boy's hand at last and leaning back into his chair.
"Uh, Prince, sir," the boy stammered, his mother's maiden name the only one that could quickly come to mind.
"Well, Master 'Harry Prince', it's my understanding that you've had something to eat and drink, but those clothes look pretty wet and cold, so I think we might find something warm and dry for you to wear tonight..."
The captain glanced up at Frank, and then looked back at the boy.
"We'll decide tomorrow what's to become of you, but in the meantime try to get a good night's sleep...and I think, since you seem so attached to that broom, that we can have you put it to good use for the rest of the voyage..."
The captain looked up at the First Mate with a dry smile and winked. The boy understood that he was being dismissed. He stood up, and followed Frank out of the door.
"Good night, 'Harry'," the captain called after him. The boy had almost forgotten about the new name; he paused at the doorway and turned back to the captain.
"Good night...and thank you, sir."
He left the captain, who remained sitting at his desk, puffing pensively on his pipe.
The boy was given a cot in the same room off of the kitchen as Dah Yeu Ling, who was not happy having to share the cramped space with a demon, nor did having to give up some of his clothes so that the demon's own clothes could be cleaned and dried.
The fact that the demon, before taking off his clothes, first took from his breast pocket a flower which strangely continually opened and closed, and that the demon insisted on taking it with him into the bathroom as he cleaned himself, and then took the flower to bed with him, convinced Dah Yeu Ling that strange magic was definitely afoot.
But since the demon was affable enough to everyone on board and did as he was told -- specifically putting his broom to use sweeping the decks -- Dah Yeu Ling could not convince anyone else of the demon's evil intentions. But he knew that the demon knew that he knew, so Dah Yeu Ling took to sleeping out on deck for the rest of the voyage.
After a couple of days, the First Mate came and got the boy as he was finishing his breakfast, and took him back to the captain's quarters. Captain Herb was standing behind his desk looking out a porthole, his hands behind his back. When Frank and the boy entered, they both took seats on the other side of the desk and waited.
"Well, 'Harry'," the captain began, turning around and taking his own seat, forming a sort of steeple of his fingers and resting his chin on his thumbs.
"We've made a few inquiries back in England, and no one seems to have any record a Harry or Harold Prince of your age and description."
The captain again peered intently at the boy, who wondered if the man could perform legilmancy.
"Of course, maybe you just fell through cracks in the system. Maybe someone misplaced your records. Maybe no one's bothered to report you missing. Maybe you're lying about your name, and maybe you have your own reasons for not telling us more about where you come from..."
As the captain leaned back in his chair, the boy wondered if indeed his parents hadn't reported him missing -- and what that meant if that were true.
"You've been one of the better stowaways that we've had over the years," the captain continued. "Hardworking. If you were older, I'd seriously consider offering you a job onboard."
The captain again rested his chin on his thumbs, intently considering the boy.
"Unfortunately, you're underage, and the only option I have is to turn you over to the Social Service people when we dock in New York later this morning..."
The boy had no idea what "Social Service people" were, but by the tone of Captain Herb's voice and the look in his and Frank's eyes, the boy was sure that this wasn't something to look forward to.
"They'll probably get in touch with the British Consulate on your behalf, and they'll try to track down your parents...
I wish you luck, 'Harry'..."
The boy thought that both Captain Herb and First Mate Frank looked very sad, which made him very uncomfortable. He debated whether he should tell them his real name and where he was from, but he still wasn't sure that it wasn't his mother who had hexed the broom, and he didn't want to get her in trouble.
He decided that as soon as he could, he'd send an owl to her telling her what had happened...she'd know what to do.
Frank took him back to his cabin, and helped him pack the 'volunteered' clothes in an old, used duffle bag. As they went back out on deck, Frank sighed, running his hand through his hair.
"Listen, kid," he started, "I don't know what your real story is...but as soon as the authorities get you into the system, it can get pretty tough. Don't get me wrong, they all have your best interest at heart, and hopefully your situation will get resolved real soon, they'll find your parents and you'll be home soon..."
Frank dug deep into his pant's pocket, pulled out a roll of pieces of paper in various shades of green, and shoved it into the boy's hands.
Seeing the boy's blank stare, Frank stated, "It's money. American money."
The boy was little used to money of any sort. He'd seen his father with bits of paper that he called 'money', but they looked different than these. His mother had explained about wizarding money, but those were all metal coins.
"Listen, you don't want to be seen with all that," Frank continued, and if on cue, Dah Yeu Ling came out on deck and eyed them suspiciously.
"Hey! You!" Frank shouted at him, which caused both Dah Yeu Ling and the boy to jump. Frank grabbed the boy's broom and tossed it at Dah Yeu Ling.
"Go sweep the deck outside the captain's quarters!"
Dah Yeu Ling, looking alternately resentful and relieved, disappeared around the corner.
"Sorry, 'Harry'," Frank apologized, turning back to the boy, "but Social Services would have taken that thing away from you anyway."
Before the boy had time to register his loss, Frank sat the boy down and showed him how to split the money up and hide it in various places on his person and in his shoes. They then walked over to the other side of the ship and watched as their destination grew closer.
The boy noticed something in the harbor as they got closer. Frank explained that it was a statue called "Liberty Enlightening the World", but usually called just "The Statue of Liberty" or "Lady Liberty". Frank explained about the hundreds of thousands of people who had left their home countries to come here to create a better life for themselves.
The boy wasn't sure that he quite understood everything that Frank said, but it sounded sort of nice. This surprised him, because he never had had any pleasant experiences with Muggles before. But these Muggles had been nice to him, and even Dah Yeu Ling, who feared him, had treated him with a resentful respect.
And here this particular Muggle had given him money and was talking to him about freedom and the pursuit of happiness and the ability to be whatever one worked hard enough to be. This was a side of Muggles that the boy had never seen before. Now he began to understand how someone like Lily could come from such people.
At that thought, the boy retrieved her flower from inside his coat pocket. It still opened and closed, but not as quickly, and with a pang the boy realized that exactly one week had passed. Lily would be returning today, she'd be going to the playground and he wouldn't be there. How many days would she go looking for him before giving up? Would she think that he'd forgotten about her?
He resolved to send her an owl message also at the same time that he wrote to his mother...
He looked up from the flower as something blocked the sun...they were passing the Liberty statue, and the boy was surprised at how big it was. She held a flaming wand aloft, and her severe features surprisingly reminded him of his mother, which only intensified his growing feeling of homesickness.
He was surprised to feel a few tears drop on his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away, hoping that Frank hadn't seen. Perhaps he hadn't, because Frank had become involved in directing a small boat to help guide their ship into dock.
The ship finally came to stop at a berth, and Frank came and got the boy as a sort of bridge was placed between the ship and the dock so that people could leave the ship.
"This is it, 'Harry'," Frank told him, putting his arm around the boy's shoulder and guiding him off of the ship.
On the dock, they were met by a middle-aged, heavyset woman who was carrying a manila folder stuffed with papers.
"You from Social Services?" Frank asked.
"Yeah, I'm Mabelle Williams, social worker assigned to this case...this is the boy I assume?"
She adjusted her glasses and peered down at the boy, who had the distinct feeling that if this woman had been a witch, he'd be a particularly intriguing ingredient for a new potion she was inventing.
"Well, he's clean, I'll say that for him!" the woman stated, which the boy found odd.
"Here, sign here!" she added, shoving her sheaf of papers at Frank.
After signing, Frank turned to the boy.
"Well, this is it, kid," he said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sure that whatever your situation, your parents miss you very much, and you'll soon be back home with them!"
The boy figured that this wasn't the time to tell Frank that he was only half-right about his parents. But Lily missing him and him missing her was infinitely worse than him not missing his father and his father not caring that he was gone.
Instead, the boy just shook Frank's hand and said, "Thank you, sir." At this, Mabelle Williams raised her eyebrows and said to Frank, "Well, if all else fails, we can always get him a part in 'Oliver!'..."
Frank chuckled; the boy figured it was some sort of Muggle joke that he'd never understand.
"Well, come on then," the woman commanded, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and steering him up the dock. "The sooner we get you processed, the sooner we can get you placed somewhere..."
For some reason the boy thought that statement did not bode well for his timely return to his own country. As if to reinforce this feeling of isolation, something splashed in the water off of the ship as the boy walked by. When he looked he saw his mother's broom floating out to sea, and Dah Yeu Ling jumping up and down on deck three stories above him, cackling madly in his own language and calling out in broken English, "So long, demon boy! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! No fly!"
The social worker frowned as Frank went running up the gangway, then she continued to steer the boy up the dock, to an old, fairly beat up car that smelled of stale cigarettes and old pizza. The boy had to brush aside a few petrified french fries from the passenger seat before sitting on it.
As they pulled away from the dock and into traffic, the woman glanced over at the boy and said, "My name is Mrs. Williams, and I'll be your caseworker..."
While her tone was nice enough, the obvious fact that Mrs. Williams did not want to be on a first name basis was not lost on the boy, and only increased his desire to return to the two people in the world who truly cared for him. He gazed longingly at Lily's flower, and fought back tears at the thought of his mother's broom floating in the water...
"So," Mrs. Williams asked, leaning over and turning on the car's radio, "what's your name, really?"
The boy thought a moment, and listened to the song playing on the radio:
...Somebody holds the key
Well, I'm near the end
And I just ain't got the time
Well, I'm wasted and I can't find my way home.
Oh, and I'm wasted, and I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
Still, I can't find my way home...
He really, really wanted to go home now.
"Severus," he answered at last. "My name is Severus Snape."
Come down off your throne
Somebody must change
You are the reason
I've been waiting so long
Somebody holds the key
Well, I'm near the end
And I just ain't got the time
Well, I'm wasted and I can't find my way home. Come down on your own
And leave your money at home
Somebody must change
You are the reason
I've been waiting so long
Somebody holds the key
Well, I'm near the end
And I just ain't got the time
Well, I'm wasted and I can't find my way home. Oh, and I'm wasted, and I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home. Still, I can't find my way home.
And I can't find my way home.
But I can't find my way home.
CAN'T FIND MY WAY HOME
Blind Faith
1969