A/N: I'm really, really sorry for taking son long to update. The real world got a hold of me and wouldn't let go.

This is an important chapter. First of all, it sets the style for the rest of this fic. It's is a series of interconnected, well, serials. This serial is based of on Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express." It's a pretty close adaptation, too. Just a warning. Now, the next serial will be based on ideas thought up by someone else, but story is my own. It's going go off and on like this. Half the stories will adaptations, the rest will have elements from other stories(such as charcters) but the story will be mine. Second of all, I finally get to justify the title.

Now to answer my reviews:

Korrd- Thanks for the suggestion. Don't worry. I plan for Harry and Tonks to go all over the world.

Harrison Potter- Yeah, I thought the length was a good trade off or the wait. Thank you for your continued support.

Ladieraie- Happy holidays to you too.

Gregthebunny- Thanks!

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Going over the last three chapters, I realize that I have been remiss in my duties. So far, I have focused on the actions and the emotions of the parties involved. But I have barely touched on the point of the story: Harry's death (for he did die (sort of)) and his subsequent rebirth. And the changes that followed.

Now, on the surface, these changes seem insignificant. And regarding his personality, the really were. But his personality was skewed.

Let's review. The first Harry was unsure of himself. He was intelligent, but not particularly quick unless he had to be. And he was practical. Very practical. He also had tendency to hold his emotions in for a long time, before letting them all loose (usually on innocent bystanders). But I think we all agree that his most important quality was that he cared.

Those of you familiar with the six-part biographical fiction series about Harry will have no doubt read part two: "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets." It was in this part that Harry descended into the legendary Chamber of Secrets to battle the basilisk, in order to save Ginny Weasely. Most experts on Potterology (such as myself) agree that Harry would have gone down there to save just about anybody, even Draco Malfoy (the Anti-Harry) It is this that shows how great Harry really is.

Now, without revealing too much, I can say that the second Harry is almost a complete opposite of the first. Almost. It should also be noted that magical abilities are also often affected by regeneration. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Say no more, say no more.

So, anyway. With out further ado:

Harry Who

Chapter Four: Murder Ahoy!

Part I

The HMS Orient was big, I mean really big. You just wouldn't believe how incredibly, amazingly, mind-bogglingly big it really was. Actually, it wasn't all that big. Practically a runt as cruise ships go. It could only fit about a hundred people.

With a ship that size, space is always a consideration. Which is why Harry and Tonks almost never got on board.

"Look," said a throughly annoyed Harry, "when I bought the tickets, I was told that I could bring my bike with me!"

"I'm sorry," replied an equally annoyed crewman," but there's not enough room!"

"Then I want my money back!"

After a short but heated "discussion" , the bike was allowed to come along and Harry and Tonks got in lin to get on board.

As I said before, the second Harry is very different from the first. For one thing he was more observant. It was because of this that he noticed the couple in front of them in line. The man was short. Shorter, than Harry, even. He had short blond hair and, based on his accent, was French. The woman was taller than the man accompanying her and had reddish-brown hair.

The two seemed to be having some kind of argument. Harry couldn't tell what the argument was about, be he did hear the woman say, "not now. After it's over, once it's behind us."

The first Harry, if he had even paid attention to this (which we've all ready deemed unlikely), would have probably found this all very suspicious. But the new Harry was a live-and-let-live sort of gut and he barely even made a mental note of it.

When they finally made it to the ticket taker, he directed them to the Bergen coach, down the stairs and to the left.

Anyone who is familiar with the workings of ships will know that the lower most level of ships is where they keep the machinery...workings...stuuf...and whatever it is that make ships go. The upper levels are where people live. The Bergen coach, as it happened, was the lower most people level.

The room currently in the use of Harry and Tonks was number 16. It was big. I mean really...I've said this before, haven't I. Anyways, it wasn't all that big, truth be told. But what it lacked in size, it up for in luxuriousness. If you've ever seen pictures of hotel suites. You'll have an idea of what the room was like.

What happened during the next few hours is another one of those areas of which not much is known. We can say for certain that they unpacked for their week-long journey. Other than that, nothing is known for sure, though I should mention that, when discussing those few hours, Harry has reportedly said, in passing, that the bedsprings in their ship bed were surprisingly strong.

After those dark hours, Harry and Tonks went up to the Bergen coach dining hall for dinner. Harry had steak and lobster, while Tonks had crab legs and steamer clams. For wine, they the Blanc de Blanc Brut, 1943.

Harry, with his new powers of observation, couldn't help but take notice of his fellow travelers. At a table near them, four men were eating together. One, in a loud suit, had the look of a commercial traveler. Probably American, Harry thought. The second was a swarthy Italian. The third was an Englishmen with a servant like air about him. The fourth was the Frenchman that been in line in front of Harry and Tonks.

At another table, an elderly woman, with a face full of personality, was given instructions to a waiter.

At still another table, the woman Harry had seen earlier was with two others. The first was middle-aged and wore a simple dress. Her blonde was in a bun that McGonagall would have been proud of and she had a face like a sheep. The second was older(though not as old as the woman sitting alone) and matronly. Chatting away about her daughter, she reminded Harry distinctly of Mrs. Weasely.

But it was the woman tha he had seen earlier, that interested Harry the most. He had seen her somewhere before, he was sure of it. But, being the second Harry, he thought nothing of it.

Beyond them was couple talking. He was tall and had a moustache. She had jet black hair and skin that was as whit as a corpse.

At the final table, sat two men, but Harry barley noticed the first (a young man) for the second. Harry was quite sure that if he still had his scar, it would be burning in full force. Though the man's face looked benevolent, his eyes betrayed his cruelty. Even Harry, with his new devil-may-care attitude, couldn't shake the feeling that he had just looked evil in the eye. A feeling Harry hadn't had since he'd last faced Voldemort.

When they had finished eating, Tonks went back to their room, while Harry went to see if he could get some champagne. He did and when he headed back to the room, he passed the man with evil eyes.

"Excuse me," said the man, "Do you have the time?"

Harry stooped, but if even glanced at the man, it wasn't noticeable.

"You don't need the time."

"I don't?"

"No. You wave a wrist watch and it's working perfectly."

The man did not seem annoyed at Harry's cheek. On the contrary. He was ecstatic.

"I knew were just what I was looking for! Please. Sit down. My name is Ratchett."

Reluctantly, Harry sat down.

"What's your name, son?"

"Harry."

"Harry? Harry who?"

"Just...Harry"

Ratchett paused, thinking. "OK. You have secrets. I can respect that."

"You said I was what you were looking for. What do you mean?"

"I saw it right away. It was the way you were at dinner. Reading all of us, one by one."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"You've done detective work before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"I have a proposition for you. And it means money. Big money"

Ratchett stopped waiting for Harry to respond. When he didn't, he went on.

"Men like me often have enemies. I have an enemy."

"Just one?"

Ratchett went suddenly angry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"People likely to have enemies don't usually don't have just one."

Ratchett was calm again. "Oh. Of course. Anyway, my secretary can show you two letters and I can show this."

Ratchett quickly showed Harry a gun, before hiding it again. He started to continue, but Harry cut him off.

"You don't seem to need me."

"I like to be sure. Now, how about 5,000 dollars to be my body guard?"

"No."

"10,000?'

"No."

"15,000?"

"Mr. Ratchett, with money at least, I've been lucky. I've enough to satisfy both my wants and needs, for the rest of my life. I'd only do detective work again if it interested me. And my interest is gone."

"If you want more money, you're not getting it."

"I'm not."

"Then what's wrong with my offer?"

"Honestly? I don't like your face."

Harry got and returned to his room, leaving Ratchett dumbstruck.

"Wotcher, Harry," greeted Tonks. "What took you so long?"

"Harry explained to her about Ratchett. Since you all just read all about it, I won't rehash the details.

"And you turned him down?"

"Yep."

"Not like you."

"I know. But I'm not exactly myself anymore, am I?"

Tonks' face fell. She had accepted Harry's changes rather graciously in her opinion. But she was getting tired of hearing about them every five minutes.

"The regeneration. That seems to be your answer to everything."

"Well, it kinda is. Oh, don't look so glum, Tonks. Remember, I have to get use to it, too. And what fun it'll be, finding out who I am now. What an adventure! And I wouldn't want to share with anyone but you. So what do say we see if it's possible to get drunk on champagne?"

If anyone is curious, they found that it is possible to get drunk on champagne. After that they decided to test out the bedsprings again.

What? Stop looking at me like that! I only meant that, in an intoxicated state, our heros felt the need to jump up and down on the bed. You have dirty minds, you know that don't you?

Several hours later, Tonks was sleeping off the alcohol. But Harry laid awake. He preformed a quick spell to sober himself up, the started thinking. He had an uneasy feeling. Like something bad had happened. Ratchett's eyes had unsettled him more than he cared to admitt.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a cry in the night. He heard on of the ship's employees knock on the door to the room next Harry's and asked in French if everything was alright.

Ratchett replied, "Ce n'est rien. Je me suis trompe."

For anyone who doesn't speak French, it means "it's no trifle. I am mistaken." Either that or he was for directions to the nearest house of ill repute. I skive of French class far too often.

Suddenly, Harry felt very tired. He only had enough time to check the bedside and see that it was 12:37, before falling into an uneasy sleep. But that uneasy sleep was broken about an hour later, when he heard a noise outside.

With a surge of curiosity that must have been a throw back of his old self, Harry rushed to the door and opened it in time to see a women in the distance, walking away and wearing a white robe orange splotches. Sadly, Harry didn't think to grab his glasses, so he couldn't begin to tell you who the women was or what the orange splotches might be. Curiosity waning, Harry went back to bed and back to sleep.

Despite having such a rough night, Harry was wide awake at nine. Tonks was still asleep, so Harry quietly got dressed and went to the dining hall for breakfast. After hearing that icebergs would hold the voyage up indefinitely, he ordered pancakes and sausages and stated observing his fellow travelers again. He could see that it was going to be a habit with him.

The matronly women from the night before was arguing with a crewman. "Look, I'm telling you there was a man in my room last night!"

The employee never got the chance to argue the point because, the young man who had been eating dinner with Ratchett came up to him and whispered something in his ear. The employee's face went pale and the two left in a hurry. Intrigued, Harry followed them.

The two men led Harry to the room next to his. Ratchett's room. When they entered, it was to see what the problem was. Ratchett was dead in bed. Revealing himself for the first time, Harry stepped and pulled the dead man's blankets. He had obviously been stabbed.

Not wasting any time, Harry checked the employee's name tag. Pierre, it read.

"Pierre, was this coach watched last night?"

"Oui, monsieur. I watched it."

"Did anyone come in who wasn't supposed to?"

"Non."

"Is there a doctor on this boat?"

"Get him."

Pierre left and Harry turned to follow him. But the young man stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"To get the captain."

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"I've told you! I've done detective work before," a frustrated Harry tried to explain to the captain. It had been like that ever since he told him about Ratchett.

"So?"

"Don't you get it? A man has been murdered. And from what you tell me, the icebergs will keep us here for a couple of days. And we're close to land that, sooner or later, the killer's gonna try to escape. If they succeed, they'll get away with murder."

"And what's your plan?"

"To catch the killer. When we get to Bergen, if we ever do, when can tell the Norwegian police the there has been a murder and this is the murderer."

"I don't like this idea. But if I don't let you investigate, the foreign police will. And I like that idea even less. What do you need?"

"The names, passports and destinations of all the passengers in the Bergen coach."

"Only the Bergen coach?"

"Yes, Pierre said no one came into the coach who wasn't supposed to be there."

"Anything else?"

"Well, I'll need someplace to question the passengers.

"You can use my personal room. But I'd prefer it if there was someone else in there with you."

"Thank you. If you'll excuse me now, I have to go talk to the doctor."

On his way to find the doctor, Harry ran into Tonks. She had apparently preformed a spell to get rid of her hangover. At any rate, she wasn't holding her throbbing head like she usually did when she had a hangover.

"Whotcher, Harry. What's going on?"

"Bit of excitement last night. Some icebergs floated in. We're going be stuck for a couple of days."

"Uh-huh."

"And there's been a murder."

TO BE CONTINUED...