Author's Note: This is NOT a crossover with Pirates of the Caribbean. None of the characters from PotC will be in this story.

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Chapter Two – Sirius Black, Cabin Boy

Harry looked up as a tall, strangely kind-looking (compared to most) pirate stopped in front of his cell. "You be the one Chasey used for a hostage, ain't ye?"

Harry nodded slowly, untrusting. This was a pirate, after all. "I am."

"What's yer name, boy?"

"Sirius Black." No point in not being consistant – Hawke had yelled it for all to hear.

"Then yer not Hawke's boy?" The pirate sounded vaguely surprised.

Harry shook his head. "He's just the one who...rescued me. I was shipwrecked earlier."

The pirate considered that, then took out a key ring and unlocked the cell. At Harry's dumbstruck look, he grinned. "No sense in lettin' ye be uncomfortable. From now on, ye're a guest aboard the Serpent's Helm." He made a short bow, which was really more of a fancy nod. "Cap'n William Spaniel at yer service, young Master Black."

Captain Spaniel was a decent man, Harry had to conclude after a tour of the Serpent's Helm. Though somewhat lacking in career, he honestly cared for his crew and his ship. He had confessed to Harry that he'd rather plunder than beg, but he never killed unless he had to. That alone would have made him okay in Harry's book.

"So," Spaniel said once they were back on deck, "Where do ye come from, lad?"

Harry barely stopped himself from saying "Surrey." Instead he answered, "Nowhere in particular."

Spaniel nodded, unsurprised. "Aye, as are we all." He hesitated. "If ye have nowhere to be, what say you to a job in this here fine ship?"

Harry looked up, startled at the offer. "You're...offering me a...job?"

Spaniel laughed at his expression. "What, ye thought pirates don't hafta work? Tell ye what, boy...you work as me cabin boy, and I'll teach ye how t' be a proper sailor. Do we have an accord?"

Harry was quick to weigh his options. Refuse and be lost in unfamiliar territory for perhaps the rest of his life, or accept and find a guide of sorts until he could get back home. Making up his mind, he grinned and shook the pirate captain's hand. "We do indeed, Captain."

Ron leaned over the railing, staring into the dark ocean as if it'd give up its secrets. Above him, the stars shone bright, undampened by modern lighting.

A small sound of shoes on wood alerted him to Hermione's approach. "You're still thinking about him."

Ron sighed. "He's out there somewhere, probably being tortured or...I dunno, enslaved or something. How can we not act when he's in pain?"

Hermione put a supporting hand on his shoulder. "Because we don't know where to look. I feel like we should help him too, but we really can't so anything at the moment."

Ron straightened suddenly. "No, we can't...but I know how to fix that." Turning, he strode to the helm. "Commander Hawke," he said to the nightwatch helmsman, "what do I have to do to join the navy?"

Two hours later, Ron returned with a grim smile. "All I have to do is prove my worth and my loyalty," he said to Hermione. "Apparently I can prove my worth easily enough by helping the crew, but he said to prove loyalty I have to wait for an opportunity."

Hermione nodded. "Well, it's a start."

Ron gazed over the distant dark of the horizon. Hold on Harry, we're coming for you.

"Gold and silver and jewels abound, treasured islands to be found, navy ships for us to sink, so we can get more rum to drink!"

Harry smiled at the slurred song of Eightfingers Morgan. The Serpent's Helm had docked somewhere near Germany, and half the crew immediately bolted for their favorite tavern. Eightfingers had introduced their new cabin boy to rum, but Harry wisely refrained from drinking great amounts of the alcohol, preferring instead to watch his new shipmates act like fools instead.

"Ye there, Siravas kid, come sing with ol' Eightfingers," the pirate said drunkenly, tubbing on Harry's sleeve.

The cabin boy didn't bother to correct the mispronunciation. "No thanks, I haven't had quite enough rum for that yet," he apologized with a grin, holding up his mostly-full mug.

Eightfingers shrugged, and staggered over to a bar wench and dragged her, giggling, into the festivities. Harry sighed, shaking his head. This certainly is odd company, he mused, taking a sip of rum. Never thought I'd find myself drinking rum with pirates.

Captain Spaniel slid into a chair across the table. "Enjoying yerself?" he asked as he set down a heavy tankard.

"Considering I've never been to a tavern nor drank alcohol, I think I'm doing fine," Harry replied with a smile.

Spaniel laughed. "True enough, young Black." He nodded towards Eightfingers. "Ye might wanna avoid him in th' morning, he'll have a dreadful headache." He looked down at Harry's rum. "But yer not, apparently. Smart lad."

Harry ignored the light jibe. "So, what's next on the agenda, Captain?"

Spaniel looked amused. "No agenda. If we see or hear of somethin' worth goin' after, we do. If not, we sail and avoid the bloody navy." His eyes glinted as he drank. "So, cabin boy, what skills ye got? Any thievery, gunfights, swordplay?"

Harry started to shake his head, then stopped. "I've used a sword once," he said, remembering the sword of Godric Gryffindor and the Chamber of Secrets. "And I've also done a little bit of stealing," he admitted, recalling instances when he used to sneak food at Privet Drive and also Ron and himself 'comandeering' the Weasley's Ford Anglia. "No guns, though."

Spaniel grinned. "Well, yer off to a good start. How'd ye like me to teach ye?"

Harry felt a twinge of doubt. "You want me to learn to shoot people?"

"Aye, the captain said regretfully. "A necessary evil in this profession, that is. Ye've also got to learn more about swords, I reckon. Tell ye what, tomorra I'll take ye to pick out yer own pistol and cutlass from Dead Jim's. In return, ye'll work yer hardest to learn these skills and once ye can hold yer own I'll promote ye from cabin boy to pirate crewer. What say you?"

Harry didn't particularly want to learn to kill people, especially while serving with pirates, but they'd likely end up killing him if he refused or ran away. Slowly, he nodded. "Sounds like a plan."