This was absurd. Why hadn't he predicted some sort of outburst from the Mudblood girl? After everything he had heard about her from the Malfoys, as their son was the only one who had any sort of connection with her, he should have assumed she had a little bit of fighting spirit in her. Therefore, when the chance presented itself, Voldemort knew he should have reacted faster. The Time Turner should have been snapped from her filthy hands and handled according to his instinct, not hers. From that very first moment they disappeared from their world, Voldemort hadn't been in control, and it was eating away at him ravenously. While the situation was a fascinating one – he was genuinely interested in what this would do to their future, and if he could find any 18th century wizards – Voldemort knew it was a sticky one at best and that was how he ought to treat it. All he wanted to do was get home and win his damn war over Potter, and somehow the boy had managed to screw him over in the past too. He considered the girl a mere extension of Potter, and everything she did only brought more ire onto Potter. When he returned, he would kill the girl first in front of Potter, and then end him in the most painful way possible.

The plan made him grin as Lucius looked on anxiously. They stood side by side in the main square of the little port, watching in silence as the inhabitants tried to manage to aftermath of the invasion the previous night. He wasn't exactly sure what had knocked him out, but it was a powerful enough explosion to leave his ears ringing for several hours afterward. Aside from the mild annoyance, there were no other serious consequences of the pirate attack. He assumed they were pirates. And there were serious consequences, naturally, but nothing to his physical self. Instead, the Mudblood had been taken while they were both unconscious. For all they knew, she could be dead by now and her possessions in the hands of filthy laggards who could barely comprehend their value.

Without realizing it, his gaze had hardened and he was staring at a spot in the distance with such intensity that a small child vaguely in his line of vision darted away. Yes, he was angry. Full of rage, in fact, but he knew that he had to be smart about this. So far, all of his decisions had been influenced by the Mudblood and Malfoy, both of whom were driving him to near insanity. The only real upside to all of this was that the Mudblood's little Muggle friend had been taken too. He caught sight of the girl just before the explosion the night before, and since then, the upper-crust of the port had been abuzz with concern. The Mudblood had somehow found someone important to latch onto, and because of that, people actually cared about finding the band of rogues who took them. This could be helpful, but he also wasn't about to simply sit around in this pathetic little Muggle town until the cavalry returned her home. No, he knew from now on, he needed to be directly involved in everything that happened.

Involved, yet not involved. Yes, that ought to be the way of it.

"My lord," Lucius said suddenly, perking up a little as he pointed at a brunette man striding through the square. "I've seen him with the girl… I thought I saw him chasing the men who took the Mudblood last night. Not for her, I'm sure, but-"

"The other one," Voldemort mused, eyes narrowing at the man. He tugged at his high collar absently, loathing the feel of the Muggle clothes against his transfigured body, and then clucked his tongue lazily, "Men in love do rash things. Come along, Lucius."

The ferocity of the man's face, the colour in his cheek, and the urgency in his stride… Voldemort and Lucius followed him at a good distance and finally leaned against a nearby shop window as their fellow stormed directly up to the port authorities. He had come to realize that the men in the red coats were some sort of law enforcement, and the one that the group huddled around had to be a leader of some kind. His jacket indicated a higher title. Their brunette man stormed right up to the group, possibly demanding some involvement. Voldemort was adept at reading lips, but they were just far enough away that it was a little too blurry to be sure of anything.

"My lord," Lucius whispered, trying to appear at ease, despite the way his voice betrayed him. "What are we going to do?"

"Patience," he sighed, eyebrows shooting up as the man was escorted away, only to turn around and slam an axe down onto the table. "This one… wants his girl. We need ours. He seems persistent."

"Reckless," Lucius noted weakly as a pair of guards dragged him away from the scene. "How do we even know what he wants?"

"I have come to trust my instinct over the years," Voldemort informed him coldly. "Do you doubt me?"

"I… of course not, my lord," he remarked quickly, his voice catching in his throat, "but we must be cautious here-"

"Oh, must we?" Voldemort mused, turning to give his servant a venomous look, "Did you learn that before or after you left the Mudblood to her own devices?"

He stammered out an incoherent response, and Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Stay here and watch the leader of that company. I will investigate what our heated friend plans to do about finding the girl, and we'll move from there."

"You want to split up?" the man inquired stupidly as Voldemort started to walk away, "Do you really think that's wise?"

His lip twitched irritably, but he could understand the man's point of view. Instead of berating him, he turned back and glanced at the large clock above the shop window, "If a plan is not formulated by six this evening, then we will meet back…there."

He pointed to a shadowy alley between the shop and its neighbour. Lucius nodded and looked back toward the group of red coats, all of whom were leaning over some table and arguing noisily about something on it. Without a second thought, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, the scratchy brown material irritating his skin, and strode off after the brunette man. He appeared young, perhaps in his early to mid-twenties. Athletic. Completely ignored the fact that his clothes were covered in soot and dirt. Voldemort observed him from a safe distance, and then frowned when he entered a large building very close to the coast. From the signage, as primitive as it was etched into the stone, he came to realize that the man had entered a prison.

He ground his teeth together irritably, and then glanced over his shoulder. No one seemed to pay him any attention as they went about their way. Children ran about. Women cleaned the debris from the destroyed buildings. Men appeared to be patching things up by hand. If only they were intelligent enough to use magic; things would have been fixed in an instant.

Shaking his head, he glanced back at the prison without a feeling of apprehension. It was seldom he was afraid, and by the confident manner that the brunette strode in with, he knew he wasn't going to have any trouble.

If any Muggle tried to hinder him, their death would be painful, of that he was sure.

This was madness. Lucius wrung his hands together anxiously as he watched the port guards from a safe distance at the shop window. Twenty years ago, he would have followed the Dark Lord into Hell and back. Five years ago, he may have hesitated, but eventually he would have given in. However, this most recent year left a horrible feeling in the pit of his soul whenever the Dark Lord demanded something of him. Most of the time, it led to failure and punishment. In fact, he was mildly surprised he hadn't been tortured into insanity for letting the Granger girl do whatever she pleased, which led to her loss with the ruffians who attacked the port the previous night. Now, he was extremely concerned about splitting up from his master. Clearly all the decisions Lucius had made thus far were wrong, and he had almost zero confidence doing anything on his own without some sort of approval first.

He sighed noisily, lost in thought over his most recent failures. There were many, both in this place and back home, and it was an exceptionally depressing experience. When he finally clicked back into reality, he spotted two of the red-coated guards stalking toward him from across the well-groomed square, weapons in hand. For a moment, he thought of running. If he could get out of their line of sight, he could apparate to the safety of his currently stolen room somewhere else in the port. However, if he did, he would appear guilty. Lucius Malfoy was remarkably talented at keeping law enforcement officials from suspecting him, so rather than running, he held his ground. As they approached, he kept something of a friendly expression on his face.

"Gentlemen," he greeted with a nod, hands up to appear harmless. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Commodore Norrington would like a word," the shorter of the two explained. "This way."

There didn't seem to be any refusing them, so Lucius simply nodded and followed the pair across the square. Commodore must have been what they labeled their head of command, because the closer they got, the more decorated the man's jacket was, and there was a much sterner look in his eye as he surveyed Lucius.

"I don't claim to know everyone on this island," the man greeted when he finally came to a halt, "but you are completely unfamiliar to me."

"Lucius Malfoy," he started, silently cursing himself for using his real name. It was habit. However, he did not reach out to shake his hand like some commoner. If he was going to be a Malfoy, he was going to hold up the aristocratic roots that they deserved, "I've only just arrived from England."

The man's dark eyebrows shot up, completely mismatched to his wig, "I wasn't aware we were receiving anyone from England this week."

"Perhaps we didn't rank high enough in importance," Lucius schmoozed with a slight shrug.

"We? You traveled with others?"

This was his opportunity. He couldn't be skulking around here without a reason, or he was bound to arouse some sort of suspicion. So, he cleared his throat and feigned the saddest expression he could muster with the Granger girl in his head, "My fiancée and I. She has always wanted to see…this place, and I brought her here as a trip before the wedding. She was kidnapped last night with another one of the young women from town-"

"I cannot recall if any other women were taken captive," Norrington remarked, "but Elizabeth Swann, the governor's daughter, was kidnapped. Some of my men said there was another young woman with her."

"Yes, my…" he trailed off. He knew her name. He had to know her name. Draco talked about her often enough, "Hermione. She befriended the Swann girl shortly after we arrived."

Norrington gave him a slightly unreadable look, his voice less friendly than it ought to be, "The governor did mention they had a house guest."

"Yes, yes, all that is correct," he said, trying to put some urgency in his voice. "I am immensely concerned for her safety. We came alone, and I have no one else here to help me find her. I had hoped the town would put some sort of search party together."

"The ocean is wide, Mr. Malfoy," Norrington mused as he gestured toward the table beside him, which Lucius finally noticed had a map on it. "We are doing what we can to predict the pirates' movements."

His voice softened suddenly, and he cleared his throat, "I understand and share your urgency to find them."

Lucius frowned for a moment, and then it clicked; the man loved the Swann girl. Whoever she was, she seemed to have stolen the hearts of several men in this little port village. Well, that could certainly work in their favour. He realized his approach with this man, no doubt the head of the law enforcement here, would be to play up some romantic angle with Granger. If they had something in common, perhaps all wouldn't be lost.

"I would like to volunteer myself to the search," Lucius said suddenly, "in any way I can."

"I will keep that in mind," Norrington informed him, "but unless you are a sailor, you have little use to me."

He blinked away the problem, and then nodded, "Of course. I wouldn't want to hinder any sort of progress. I should hope that you keep me informed if anything does come about, or you can use me in some way."

He turned away, knowing that his presence might start to annoy the man in charge if he had nothing useful to offer. No one protested to his leaving. Instead, they merely returned to their work. He could only hope that the Dark Lord was having more success with the man from earlier. Otherwise, they might truly be luckless in this ridiculous venture.

Voldemort had found his way in. He had listened for the past ten minutes as two men, Jack Sparrow – a pirate behind bars – and the man from earlier – William Turner, as he had recently divulged – negotiated an uneasy truce to find where Turner's 'bonny lass' had been taken by the pirates. Unfortunately, he had yet to see the Sparrow fellow, but from the tone of his voice and the manner of his argument, Voldemort came to two possible conclusions; the man was an excellent, albeit strange, bargainer, or he was piss drunk out of his mind. Whatever the case may be, he somehow agreed to help Turner find Miss Swann, which meant they would find the Mudblood, so long as Turner sprung him from prison. Both of these men, while Muggles, would be useful to him, and he immediately knew what path he must take the moment he heard Turner destroy the metal prison bars noisily.

He had been listening from a small stairwell in the prison, and only when he heard them speak of leaving did he finally step out to reveal himself. The man had fashioned his appearance as a slightly modified version of his younger self. What he wouldn't do for a good Polyjuice Potion right now; it was actually a little tiring transfiguring individual body parts each day when the spell wore off in his sleep. Regardless, he certainly did not look threatening, nor was he dressed as a guard. When he stepped forth, finding himself uncomfortably close to Turner, the young man drew his Muggle sword and held it up to his neck defensively.

"Easy, my friend," Voldemort purred, holding his hands up quickly, "I mean you no harm."

"Why were you listening, friend?" Turner spat as his companion, Sparrow (clad in a ridiculous outfit, complete with beads in his hair and goatee) clambered out of the prison cell, "What business are you here on?"

"We have a similar purpose, Mr. Turner," Voldemort explained calmly. "The woman I most desire was taken from me last night, as yours was. I want her back."

It wasn't a complete lie. He did desire the Mudblood at this very moment. He desired her to be back here with the Time Turner so they could return home, where he would wring her neck.

Turner seemed skeptical toward his confession, but he pressed on, "I want to help. I am a capable fighter, and you'll see there is more to me than meets the eye."

"What is your name?" Turner demanded, "I've never seen you here before."

"Tom," he replied. He believed that was satisfactory enough of an answer.

"Look, Tommy," Sparrow started as he gathered up some sort of weaponry from a nearby bench, "I haven't got it in me to keep more than one boy alive who has never faced real pirates before. Sorry, but three's a crowd."

"I agree," Turner chimed in. "Three is too many. We will find your girl too, and I will be sure that she returns to Port Royal safely."

"I'm coming with you," Voldemort insisted, "whether you want me to or not."

The two men exchanged a look, and before he could react, the butt end of Turner's sword slammed into his temple, knocking him to the ground.

He wasn't unconscious, but for a moment or so he couldn't react. Everything was numb, and his vision blurred between white and clarity. Footsteps echoed in his ears obnoxiously as the men rushed off, no doubt eager to start their mission as soon as possible. He wasn't particularly sure what Sparrow earned out of all this, or why he was in such a rush… but he couldn't even fathom a reason right now. All he felt, aside from pain, was unholy rage. Violent, spewing anger. However, instead of reacting as he normally would, Voldemort patiently calmed himself, and when he felt like his body was ready, he eased himself to his feet.

He gingerly touched his temple, wincing a tad when he felt something warm. He must have been bleeding, but it couldn't have been terrible. Taking a few calming breaths, he started up the staircase, clutching the railing tightly to keep from toppling over again. When he was finally out of the jail building, he spotted the tips of Sparrow's dreadlocks in the distance as the men ascended down a hill toward the beach. Looking further, he saw they were making their way to the docks. They were going to steal a ship.

With a smirk on his lips, he beckoned toward a small boy, waving him over quickly. The lad was hesitant, but he ordered him to come closer in a way that he perceived as commanding, yet calm. Finally, the boy sauntered over, and before he could say anything, he cast a wandless Imperius curse. It made the boy fall into a stupor, and he leaned close, whispering a message for Lucius in the lad's ear.

"He will be close to the main courtyard," he finished. "Long blonde hair tied back. If he does not respond to Lucius Malfoy, you will keep searching. Do you understand what you must do?"

"Yes."

"Good, now go."

In a matter of seconds the lad was off running, ignoring the woman who shouted for him to come back inside. She shot Voldemort an exasperated look, but he paid her no attention as he careful descended the hillside that he had seen his two new travel companions go only minutes earlier. He had to be careful. They were, no doubt, hiding from the law, and certainly wouldn't be out in the open.

Voldemort patrolled the docks careful, searching for some sign of them among the hustle and bustle of port life. There were many great ships on the dock, but most seemed to be occupied by an enormous amount of people. How they intended to take something from here was beyond him. Hopefully he was corrected and they hadn't gone elsewhere. Most of the time, his intuition on these things was remarkably spot on, and he pushed aside any kind of negative thoughts. He couldn't see them yet, but it was only a matter of time before they revealed themselves to him. Until then, he would wait patiently. It wouldn't take long.

Giving a final look out at sea, he turned around swiftly and stalked back down the dock, pausing only momentarily to give a strange look to a bucket in the water. It wasn't out of the ordinary to see debris floating about, but it was so very odd that it seemed to move on its own against the current. The oddity of it struck him more than anyone else around, and as he strolled passed an officer, he casually lifted a telescope-like object from his pocket, as it might come in handy. From there, he perched himself on the beach, a keen eye on the look-out for Sparrow and Turner.

Lucius glanced up at the large clock nervously. Time was ticking by so quickly, and still there was no word from his master. He hoped nothing had happened to him, mostly because he knew it would somehow change the future. It was a relief that he no longer worried about the man's safety, mostly because it meant Lucius no longer connected with him as an individual, as his leader. Instead, his main concern was getting everyone home alive so that his future remained relatively untarnished.

Thus far, Norrington and his men remained locked around that map, some arguing about which course to take. It seemed they were having even less luck than they were. Lucius sympathized, as he would have had no clue where to start searching in the vast ocean for one small ship.

Suddenly, a lad appeared at his side, almost out of nowhere. Lucius flinched, shocked at the appearance, and then shooed him away, "I haven't got any money for you."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

He froze, and after taking a better look at the small, ratty boy's face, his eyes in particular, he realized that something had been done to him. If he was to have a guess, he would assume that the lad was under some sort of curse, most likely the Imperius. It was a spell he had cast many times before, and he knew the effects it had on its victims.

"Yes?"

"The Dark Lord wishes for you to know he is going with Turner and Sparrow," the boy droned, his voice eerily monotone. "They are stealing a ship as we speak. Wait ten minutes, and then bring on the law. The Dark Lords insists you are also part of the chase."

"Why can't I go with him?" Lucius demanded, his eyes widening. Was the man insane? How could he run off with a bunch of Muggles in some vain hope that they would be better at finding the pirates than the Commodore? The boy gave him no answer, as he had clearly delivered his message. With the mission over, the boy's eyes started to clear a touch, and he turned around, departing almost as quickly as he arrived.

Bring the law? Why should he do that? Wouldn't they only hinder his escape with … Turner and Sparrow? Who the Devil were they? He looked up at the clock again, his lips in a tight line. Hopefully, the Dark Lord knew what he was doing. He couldn't afford to lose both of them and remain trapped in this world forever. All he wanted to do was get back to his Narcissa and end this war, one way or another. This dragged the agony onward most terribly.

Two minutes passed. Then four. Then another two. Finally, ten whole minutes had passed, and it took everything in him not to race across the courtyard back to Norrington. He retained most of his dignity as he went, his head held high, his pace even.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Commodore greeted, not bothering to look up from his map as he scribbled something down. "Is there something else we can do for you?"

"Sparrow and Turner are stealing a ship in the bay," Lucius informed him. "I've just been told."

The man looked up quickly, "What?"

"They are stealing a ship, no doubt off on the same errand as you," Lucius clarified, urgency in his voice. "We must follow!"

"I…" Norrington trailed off, his men turning to him expectantly. "Come, we will investigate the docks ourselves. It seems unrealistic… Sparrow was locked securely behind bars. Who did you hear this from?"

"A reliable source, I assure you," Lucius informed the man as they departed. He finally realized what the Dark Lord had done. He had given them an opportunity to earn the Commodore's trust. If he was successful, perhaps he could become more involved in the plans to find the pirates who took Granger. There might be some hope after all.

Ron skidded along a third floor hallway, narrowly avoiding a curse flung from somewhere in the darkness behind him.

"Hermione?" he shouted, hoping that she might hear him before she reached the headmaster's office, "Hermione, where are you?"

Silence answered.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So I wanted to do a little more with this, but I've reached a point where my creativity it sort of sapped for the day. I also wanted to post today, since it's been FOREVER since this has been updated.

Happy New Year to you all, by the way!

I'll post what I wanted to do sometime this week as a sort of… second part/ending of this chapter. It'll be shorter, but it'll be out sometime when I'm a little more functional.

YAY WILL for knocking Voldemort out. Kind of a jerk move, but who needs extra baggage? If your last name isn't Turner, Jack doesn't give a fuck, really. –shifty look- MORE TO COME SOON! Thanks to everyone for adding this story to a list and the reviews are always appreciated!