Er...Hey, all! I, uh...meant to have this posted by yesterday, but I simply didn't have the time to get it finished. I know I'm taking a long time in updating this, and my focus isn't exactly on this story like it should be, so please, bear with me. That aside, I do not have a detailed plot thought out for this yet—I have a plot, no worries! It's just the totally general version. -sweatdrop- Not my fault. Oki, it is, but hey, I warned you all: this is still just an experimental fic anyway. Yes, I shall indeed be trying to update at least a teensy bit more often—hey, a little is better than none!—and I can only just continue to apologize like the maniac we all know I am, and hope that you all are able to enjoy the story, regardless.

Thank you all for such the lovely reviews! There were so many: Captain-Jana-Sparrow, Katherine-The-Crowned, Little Miss Sparrow (you're right!), ArmoredSoul (Fong? o.0;; I shouldn't ask, should I? Lovely review, by the way xD), Winka, Cort, Atticus620 (well, if I don't continue, you wouldn't be able to review anymore anyway, so yeah, it kind of both makes sense and is redundant at the same time :) ), TheDreamChild (the dull edge? Hit him with the sharp edge next time! Oy!), Amaruk Wolfheart of the Wraith, Jess is a Pirate, and chillianfan01.

Disclaimer: Authoress: -sniffsniff- -sniffsniff- -sniffsniff- Ah...franchises.
Jerry Bruckheimer and J. K. Rowling: -shoot- ... Our franchises.

Chapter Six: Not to be Feared- Part I

"You are from a time other than our own, Mister Norrington."

"Another time?" the man gazed at him confusedly.

"Yes. Or perhaps even another Realm."

"But how is that possible?" McGonagall asked.

"A star has fallen. And you in its path."

James' eyes grew large. "Is there any way for him to go back, then?"

"Go back?" Norrington asked softly, as if unsure of whether or not he wanted to return. He shook his head. "A murderer and a monster. ...I cannot go back."

"That incident was an accident."

"That may be, but it was still my folly."

"Then you must move on. Accept your mistakes and your imperfections and continue with your life."

"What life? It will have cost me my commission and my freedom. Some lord or other will come and place a price on my head, and the bounty hunters will come in throngs."

"Even so, you must go back. Too long outside your own Realm may erase all memory you have from your life there as this Realm attempts to maintain the world order."

"I do not wish to remember that life."

"Have you no good memories to look back on fondly?" James thought a few moments, though his expression held the answer clear. "What of your Elizabeth?" He snapped his mouth shut, looking up. Sure, she had broken his heart, humiliated him, and used him, but what would it be like never to be able to remember her smile or her presence or anything about her at all? It froze his heart. "There, you see?" Dumbledore encouraged him gently when his race fell with the realization.

"But...how?"

"I do not know. I shall look into the subject. Until then... you shall meet with and speak to Professor Lupin, and learn from him the details of your condition."

"Condition? You speak of it as if it was a sickness. Do you imply that there is some cure?"

"Not at all," came a prompt reply, snuffing out the hope that had just momentarily sparked. "But there are ways to make the creature grow dormant."

James began to look hopeful again, but the expression was interrupted by realization. "Does it involve your magic?"

"It may."

"Then I am not so sure I want the help."

"Then he will teach you to control yourself. Now, he has been sick as of late, so until he has recovered, you shall assist Hagrid in caring for the animals."

"Animals—you mean horses and such?" Norrington asked suspiciously.

"Magical creatures," Dumbledore amended.

"Magical."

"Now who is doing the repeating?" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled. James' expression hardened. He was hardly in the mood to joke. Any other time, this may have merited a smile—even a small chuckle. "They do not practice magic, Mister Norrington, but are rather only seen in the magical region."

"Ah. And what purpose do these animals serve in a school."

"How to care for them or defend oneself against them. Even how to use them for personal benefit. Here, I shall take you to him myself."

"All right." James followed him. It wasn't like he had a choice anyway...

——————————

"Ah, the breeze. Is it not a beautiful day?"

James shivered in his light, borrowed clothing, carefully stepping over a stone in his path to avoid injuring his still-bare feet. "Maybe for you," he said amiably, "but I am accustomed to the heat of the Caribbean. Might there be...?" He trailed off, stopping in his tracks when a hut came into view. But it was not the building he was looking at.

"Mister Norrington?" Dumbledore returned to his side. "What is the matter?" There was no answer. He followed the man's fearful gaze to a small wooden structure resembling a hitching post. Several furry, dead forms were strung up and hanging from it. James swallowed loudly, beginning to shake. "Look away, Mister Norrington."

"Wh...what are they for?"

"To feed hippogriffs. Have no fear, lad, they only eat dead—."

"Ferrets, though."

"Yes."

His voice grew harsh. "What an uncanny coincidence."

"Now, Mister Norrington, you must not jump to conclusions. Calm yourself, now."

Dumbledore was right, James realized, taking a deep breath. Here he was blubbering like a fool, ready to jump at everything he saw. Hardly reminiscent of the naval prize he had been. "It's...so much colder here than in the Caribbean," he continued their prior conversation. "Are we far north?"

"North of England, yes. Scotland, actually."

They began to walk again. "I...may need something warmer to wear until winter ends."

"It is actually the beginning of Autumn."

"Really? Oh. My apologies. It has been such a long time since I have been so high atop the world, and I was unsure as to how close in synchronization the seasons of our Realms are."

"It is quite all right. And I can assure you we will find something warmer for you to wear."

"Thank you." They drew near the hut, former-commodore purposely averting his gaze from the hippogriff hitching post.

Dumbledore rapped his knuckles against the wood of the large door. "Jes' be a minute. Th' baby unicorn is nursin'," called a voice from inside. A deep sense of wonder suddenly filled James. Unicorns? Creatures of myth now real—what other chance might he have to work with such creatures? The door creaked open and Hagrid stood there, filling the doorway. "Ah, what have we 'ere?"

"I understand we have come a bit earlier than expected, Rubeus, do you mind?"

"Not at all. In fact, yer just in time t' help me out with the other foal. 'E's downright afraid of me and won't take nourishment—that is, if yer willin' ter help."

"It would be my honor," Norrington said sincerely, extending his hand, which Hagrid—with his trash can-lid-sized hand—shook heartily.

"I will see you both another time. Breakfast is about to begin."

"I won't be there, ye know," Hagrid reminded him. "We'll have our hands full with all th' creatures that came in yesterday."

"I'll be sure to pass that along. And Hagrid," Albus added, "expect a visit from me later this morning. We have some very important things to speak about."

"Yessir." The Headmaster nodded and left. "Well c'mon in, Mister James," Hagrid said friendily, stepping aside.

"Thank you." James stepped in, looking around the room as he crept farther inside. The building was lit by a few lanterns ad a warm fire on the hearth. He suddenly felt dwarfed by everything—it was all so much bigger than normal. Yet smaller still than himself were the two forms in the corner. He crept closer. One was standing, and as he drew nearer, squinting in the dim, flickering light, he could see that it was a golden baby horse, a small, crystalline horn growing from its forehead. He cautiously approached, and the little creature squealed and rushed past him to seek shelter with Hagrid who, during this time, had been preparing more food for the wee ones. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle her."

"No worries. They're generally more friendly with women than men. It took me th' longest time ter gain her trust."

He smiled faintly. "Then I don't feel quite so sorry any more."

There was a faint growling noise and he hastily wrapped his arms around his middle, looking embarrassed. Hagrid laughed. "Looks like I shoulda made breakfast fer us before their second helpings. Be back in a minute. Here, see if you can coax th' li'l guy ter take some food." He handed his guest one of the bottles before going back to the cooking cauldron.

Norrington glanced back over his shoulder at the other form, which was lying down, curled up under a blanket by the fire. He crept closer, watching for movement. A few feet away, not minding where his feet fell, he accidentally nudged a stool, which scraped softly against the stone floor. A tiny, golden head shot up, ears pressed forward, eyes wide. Again wonder filled the former-Commodore. This close to such a creature of lore! "It's all right, little one." He stooped slowly, cautiously, extending the bottle with great care. The tiny creature shied away. "No? Have you not grown hungry?" He was well aware of how quickly he had put himself to work—but it felt good to finally be doing something. Anything. As he eased to a sitting position beside the colt, said colt pinned his ears and tried to rise. The man's movements suddenly ceased, and it almost seemed as if he had gone to sleep, leaning against the wall, bottle resting within reach in his lap.

The baby unicorn regarded the Muggle for several long minutes. Then, the smell of warm, honeyed milk as it dripped lazily from the container reached his suddenly curious young nose. His tiny stomach growled irately. Slowly, ever so slowly, he extended his head, mouth open, toward the teat.

Unbeknownst to the little beastie, James peeked one eye open, excitement blooming in his chest as it began to drink greedily, making hungry and contented noises, and making a mess of everything. However, he was far from gaining the little unicorn's trust. He was certain that if he even so much as smiled, he would frighten it away. Hagrid turned and saw the scene, and would have made some excited remark had Norrington not opened his eyes and shaken his head very subtly, so slightly that it seemed almost a trick of the eye.

The foal finished its meal and withdrew as quickly as it could, as if the emptiness of the bottle would wake the human from his slumber. And it nearly did—he had been about to rise when he realized his exhaustion. He had gone through two transformations and torture to boot. Needless to say, his sleep was no longer feigned. "Oh," said Hagrid when he saw this, "an' I jus' got finished makin' yer breakfast." With an indifferent shrug, he placed a blanket over his guest and went off to take care of some of the other creatures under his care.

——————————

A half hour later, the man awoke to a nudge to the bottle which still lay idly in his hands. He started, momentarily forgetting where he was. There was a squeal and something beside him bolted. "Oh no, I didn't mean to—."

"No worries, Mister James, Marlie here was just getting a little hungry." He looked up and saw the golden filly trotting eagerly over to the large gamekeeper for another helping. "Ye want ter try feedin' the little fella again?"

"Ah, sure." His stomach grumbled again as he rose to his feet. "But first...I think breakfast is in order. Might you–ah–have any food?"

"No need ter feel so awkward Mister James, yer a guest here. Besides, yer breakfast is all ready." A plate of bacon and eggs sat at the table.

"I don't aim to be a burden," he said with a certain force.

"Yer not—."

"I just cannot take what is not mine without giving something in return."

"A trader, eh—good fair head on yer shoulders. Well, ye could always work off yer food and lodging helpin' with th' critters."

James nodded. "Agreed." His stomach growled again.

"Don't be shy now, lad, eat up!" He did, and Hagrid went to feed little Marlie the filly. "I, ah…noticed that her brother has no horn… Why is that?"

"Oh, can't say really. Ev'ry once in awhile there's a unicorn tha's not a unicorn. No one's yet figured why." James chuckled to himself. "Ye think that's funny?"

"No, no, my apologies. You just reminded me of an old, old friend. …Well, perhaps not so much of a friend now—I've hardly seen him in the last decade." His fork sounded on the plate. "I wonder…how is it the you are raising these two? I mean…what of their mother?" he asked, turning around in his stool to face the other person.

"There're a lot of parts to a unicorn that are valuable to th' magical folk. Now, Hogwarts 'as nev'r had ter deal with poachers afore—they've never been able t' get onter th' grounds. But this un' snuck in posing as someone's pet cat—an animegus, if you will." James merely blinked. "Anyhow, Beauty here—the foals' mum—was sleepin' with 'er kin when the poacher came and killed her. Little Marlie was still asleep, but her brother… 'is mum was killed right afore his eyes."

James turned further to look at the sleeping form in the corner. "He and I have that in common," he said morosely, falling silent for a few moments.

"Oh?" This character seemed so rigid, Hagrid thought. He didn't have anything to lose to try and get him to open up a little.

"Yes," came a cold reply with the finality that nothing else would be revealed. But then… "It…I…" he sighed frustratedly, silencing to get his words straight. "……..I was four," he said simply, with a tone that made Hagrid unsure as to whether he would continue. There was a long time in which they were silent, and he rose and strode over to the sleeping bundle, stooping to watch him sleep. "It's… I've let it become difficult for me to trust other people, and………I have found that I cannot let them in…….nor let myself out. …………Trapped," the last word came in a whisper. There was another long silence.

"There's no one here means ye harm, Mister James."

A sudden anger sparked inside him. "Oh? Then I suppose it is mere coincidence that I have become food for your monsters!"

"Monsters?"

"Hippos—griffins—whatever they are!"

"What d'ye mean by that?"

There was a knock at the door. "You're about to find out," James replied through gritted teeth, taking a calming breath and telling himself Get a hold of yourself! as Hagrid opened said door to greet Dumbledore. He normally didn't express his emotions. No exceptions. But now… Maybe you're wound too tight. Look, now, you've frightened the colt. "It's all right, little one," he said softly, offering the bottle to him.

The golden foal looked fearfully around the hut as the Headmaster stepped in, apprehensive gaze coming to rest on the muggle as if to say, "I'm scared here."

"It's okay. This place scares me too," he said in response, holding up the bottle a little. The tiny creature pricked his ears, as if he had understood every word. And as if said words had been of consolation, he reached out and drank hungrily. James dared not move.

At the same time, Dumbledore and Hagrid were conversing quietly at the table, and the ex-Commodore had to force himself not to eavesdrop, as had become habit in the Navy. Their voices were lowered to confidential murmur, anyway, as if they thought it rude to talk about him louder. Hagrid gasped at incredulously at something he had just been told, and James heaved a sigh, slowly rising. Perhaps a walk would help. If he knew what this place held in store, he might feel a little more in his own element: calm alertness. The key point there was calm. He crept silently and unnoticed out the back door. Well, unnoticed but for one set of eyes.

He stepped into the bright sunlight, the door creaking softly closed behind him. Looking back toward the castle, he saw the pumpkin patch—and they were huge! And, laying atop one of said giant pumpkins, set out perhaps to dry in the sun and gleaming from a fresh cleaning were—Are those my clothes?

They were. Blood stains and sweat stains and rips and tears were somehow gone— Magically, he thought with distaste—but he knew the cloth was his when he felt it. Looking around to make sure he was alone, James crouched down behind the oversized squash and changed. That done, he slid down to a sitting position, back against a pumpkin, to ponder his predicament. One of the few clouds in the bright blue sky, white and fluffy, uncovered the sun, and a glare was cast into his eyes from somewhere nearby. What's that? He shielded his face from the sun's reflection with a raised arm, and saw it. My sword! He rose and claimed it from the dry and dusty ground. The belt and holster were folded neatly beneath it, and he strapped it on. Ah, how good it felt to have that familiar weight at his hip again—he had felt so naked without it.

Back in the proper attire—if only some of it, for his stockings, shoes, hat, waistcoat, Navy coat, baldric, and anything else that wasn't shirt and trousers were still unaccounted for—he decided to explore a little. Perhaps back to the woods, ad find a place where he could have time to himself. But then…what of that creature what bit him? Yet, he woods looked inviting enough—at least this part—and so he resolved to step into the trees and learn the lay of the land, and return before he was missed.

The trees soon closed around him, but not so thickly that they blocked out the sun. it was actually pretty peaceful. So peaceful, he noticed as he ventured deeper into the woods, that no birds sang. There was no sound of life or anything. There was no whisper of wind between the branches, no general buzz of life. Just silence, but for the crunch of his own feet on the fallen leaves, which seemed to echo all around. All was still. It would have been nice if it had not been so disconcerting. There was a sudden rustle behind him. He whirled around, but saw nothing. The sound was followed by many loud footfalls. James drew his sword warily, prepared to attack as the footsteps drew closer…

All righty then, you have another seven page chapter (oh don't look so disappointed—seven is a lot from me!). Don't expect an update too soon. But I promise I will be more prompt (or will try my very best to) with a next chapter. (Cheap Russian accent) Please to be leaving reviews on way out! 'Sank you!