Author's Note: Er... while doing research for the next chapter, I seem to have inadvertently time-traveled six years into the future. So sorry for the minor time delay. :)

Betcha didn't think I was ever going to update again, did you?

=Chapter 6: High Tide and Roostercide=

Harry stretched a little in his hammock, breathing in the muggy, salty air, the whiff of sweat and old resin. He was too alert. His mind was racing- no, faster than racing- marathoning. His mind was outright marathoning. No- no wait- Harry thought abruptly, marathons are slower than races, they just take longer- but it's still sort of more like a marathon because these thoughts are just exhausting and never-ending and- and- agh! Harry's fingers slid under his messy hair, clutching the sides of his head. His mind was going warp-speed, and in backwards circles, dizzying and confusing him.

All this time-travel stuff was driving him crazy- all these crazy, crazy possibilities. I mean, what exactly could you do with time-travel? Harry wondered, feeling his spine shiver in uneasy excitement. Go back and save your parents from dying, for example? And how's it possible that wizards have had access to this power, and why haven't they used it more? Do they change the past all the time, and there's a gazillion different versions of the current world? How would the world be like if wizards had never messed with time? It was almost too staggering to think clearly about. Harry was questioning reality all over again, just like he had the first time he'd ran through that wall at Platform 9¾.

If only for the possibility of saving his parents' lives, Harry wanted to believe in time-travel, more than he'd ever wanted to believe anything.

But then, there was also a part of Harry wishing that this was all just some ridiculously over-detailed historical re-enactment, or even, like Malfoy said, being trapped in an illusion. Being lost in the wrong time felt worse than that- the ultimate feeling of 'you don't belong here'.

What exactly is this Troth guy's agenda anyways? Harry wondered emptily. And what was all that stuff Hermione said about me joining the wizard police, and taking down evil wizards with her and Malfoy and Ginny in the future? And why can't she just wake up so I can ask her all of the roughly 217 questions that have been buzzing around my head like moths around a bug zapper?

Although Harry had slept during Troth's endless Petrificus Totalus spells, Hermione had stayed awake, and she was dead tired now, and no help at all. And Ginny just wasn't talking, and Harry didn't know her very well anyways, and besides, he couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. Malfoy might have been awake, judging from the endless shifting in the hammock below Harry's, but Malfoy only ever had nasty, insulting, and depressing things to say. Will Turner was sound asleep on the floor, which wasn't too surprising, considering all the chores he'd been doing, including stringing up four lopsided, makeshift hammocks between the boards and rafters of his claustrophobic little side-cabin.

The place now looked like a spiderweb of old rope and fabric. It was located at the back of the ship, under the left stairway to the highest deck. It had no windows, no door handle, and was only about twice the size of Harry's cupboard under the stairs back at Privet Drive.

Weirdly enough, the stair-shaped indents on the cabin ceiling were making Harry homesick... He'd never been homesick before... It was new. That's stupid, Harry thought fiercely, What the heck is there to be homesick about? The Dursleys hate me, and I hate them, and that's never going to change, but I'm perfectly okay with that, because I'm a wizard, and I have my own life now, and I couldn't care less what the Dursleys think about me! It still sounded like a lie in his head, but it was a lie he liked.

Suddenly, he felt something like a knee smack up into the underside of his hammock, making his spine sting.

"Potter. Potter!"

Harry pretended not to hear him.

Malfoy stood up in his hammock, lurching unsteadily; grabbed the side of Harry's hammock, tipping it precariously, and whispered,

"Potter, you have to steal Granger's wand."

Rolling over in his hammock to face the shadowy blur of the annoying Slytherin, Harry droned, "Why?"

"Well, I'm not about to pickpocket a Mudblood, am I?" Malfoy retorted quietly. "I have standards, and she probably has lice. So you have to."

"No, I mean- why?" Harry clarified, still unclear what Malfoy was on about. "Why steal it?"

"Well, it's a Gryffindor wand, isn't it? Rubbish thing probably likes you better than me, and I think you should try using two wands at once and see what happens, since we're sort of outnumbered here- this ship is positively infested with Muggles, like rats- there's got to be at least twenty. We need to cast Petrificus Totalus on all these ghastly Muggles, and shove 'em overboard."

"Go back to sleep, Malfoy," Harry mumbled dryly.

"Fine, Muggle-loving imbecile, then let's at least just petrify all the Muggles, steal Granger's wand as a backup in case you lose yours, steal a rowboat and food, and escape this rustbucket- well, you, me, and the Weasley, anyway. Granger can stay with her own kind."

"Clear off already," Harry groaned, wrapping his arms over his ears to block out Malfoy's nasty jabbering.

"Fine, I'll steal one of those rowboats out there and leave on my own!" Malfoy snarled quietly. "Who needs you and that raggedy blood-traitor anyhow?"

"I'll tell on you."

"I detest you."

"G'night."

Malfoy kicked the underside of Harry's hammock once more for good measure, then evidently got bored or fell asleep or something.

That'll probably be a bruise in the morning, Harry guessed. At least Malfoy's irrational plans had sufficiently distracted Harry from his endless questions. Except for the new question of- I wonder how far Malfoy would get on a rowboat in the middle of the ocean before he eventually died of dehydration, died of severe tropical sunstroke, died of hunger, or died of shark's hunger... Eventually, after maybe 40 more minutes of numbly staring at strands of blue moonlight filtering in through the stair-ceiling, the rocking effect of the ship lulled Harry's spin-cycle mind to sleep, where he only had to cope with imaginary nightmares.

He was woken by the cliché sound of a rooster crowing.

Flailing his hand out with a total lack of coordination, Harry felt around overhead for his glasses. He'd stuck them between the fibers of one of his hammock's ropes last night, so that he wouldn't roll over on them and crack them or anything. Finally feeling glass and metal under his fingertips after a few haphazard failed attempts, Harry tugged his glasses free, stuck them on his face, and blinked a few times. Everything became clearer- and green. So green. Yeah, he still hadn't remotely gotten used to these lenses. He'd only stuck with them because he didn't want to make Hagrid feel bad for getting the wrong ones.

In the dim light from between the cracks of the side-cabin door, Harry saw Ginny roll off her hammock, land with a light thud on the edge of Will's blankets on the floor, and then, head still drooping, she pushed open the door, and wandered out into the ship.

Maybe she was just going to get a drink of water or ask where the 18th century's equivalent of a bathroom was on this ship, but something seemed just... weird about Ginny's movements- almost like she was sleepwalking, or in a trance, or a zombie. Yeah, zombie was the best adjective.

It felt awkward of course, but Harry decided maybe he should follow her. She was Ron's sister, after all, and he'd hate to get back from this adventure and say, "Hey Ron, I let your little sister sleepwalk off a ship and some eighteenth century sharks are probably vomiting what's left of her undigested bones by now- can we still be friends?"

"No, Harry, I'm going to transfigure you into a mouse and glue you to the floor of the owlery!" Ron's voice snapped back in his head. Actually, that's more like something Malfoy would say, Harry decided. But Ron would most likely still be at least a bit miffed.

Harry's hammock was higher than Ginny's, and he didn't want to risk bumping into the hammock below his and waking Malfoy up again, so it took Harry slightly longer to reach the floor-

Wait- where is Malfoy? Harry wondered, blinking at the empty hammock below his. And for that matter, where's Hermione and Will? he mentally added, glancing at Hermione's empty swaying hammock and the empty floor. I can't have slept in, right?, Harry wondered, as he pushed open the side cabin door and wandered out into the captain's cabin, where dull grey half-light was pooling in through the wide, elaborate cabin windows. It's much too dark out still, Harry concluded as he peered through one of the windowpanes, which was coated with a filmy layer of dust and humidity. Where are they all off to? And where's Ginny off to now?

Well there's the captain, anyway, Harry thought, squinting through the murky light toward the far side of the spacious cabin, where Captain Wentmark was clearly fast asleep in his carved-wood bed, built into a recessed part of the curving wall. Guess I can't ask him where the others went, then.

Quietly, Harry pushed open the cabin's main door, and slipped out onto the second-highest deck, where the ship's steering wheel was. Will had told him the fancy nautical names for both this deck and the wheel last night, but Harry hadn't really payed attention. I'll just ask Hermione, Harry figured.

The waves were a bit wild, and the deck swayed dangerously under his bare feet. It wasn't actually too different from riding a broom, Harry decided. Sure, it took a while getting used to tilting in time with the sway of the old ship to keep from getting knocked off your feet, but it's not as if it were moving staircases or Quidditch. You just didn't get seasick if you survived playing Quidditch without getting airsick. And anyway, this was nothing compared to the Weasley's flying car.

It took Harry a moment to spot Ginny, but no longer than that- she was at the bottom of the stairs to the captain's cabin, and crossing the empty main deck, slowly trudging toward the front of the ship. Her shoulders were squared back stiffly, but her head still drooped oddly. She looked small and strange in the early pre-dawn lighting, and in the green tinge of Harry's glasses. Glancing at the surreal ocean horizon, Harry saw that the dark skyline was now lightening by a few shades- it would probably be another few minutes before there were any streaks of color in the sunrise. And by color, he meant green. A few stray raindrops hit his cheek and shoulder, and he realized it was lightly drizzling now.

The rooster crowing got louder as Harry caught up with the hypnotically walking Weasley, and followed her in through the door of the ship's kitchen thing- galley, that was what Will had called it.

On the far side of the galley, a wicker cage was un-latched, and Ginny's small hands were picking up a white-and-green, brightly-speckled, cawing rooster. Harry swiped the raindrops off of his glasses with his striped sleeve, smiling slightly. It was sort of a cute sight, Ginny holding a fat, fluffy little rooster, while standing there in those old-fashioned clothes, with her hair all messy and crazy. It made her seem sort of rustic, like a- like a- Harry tried to think of some description besides 'like a farmgirl on an old vintage postcard' but his brain just wasn't being very helpful right now. Oh, what's she doing with its neck, why's her hand-

-Crack.

"Ginny!" Harry yelped.

She dropped the twitching bird abruptly, with a shrill, startled shriek. Peering up from the greenish-red hair hanging loosely in front of her face, Ginny looked around in frightened confusion, at the rooster, at Harry, at the splintery ceiling. "Where are we?" she whispered raspily.

"Why'd you do that?!" Harry yowled back at her. "You just snapped it's neck, Ginny! Why? Why?!"

She stared blankly at him, wild-eyed and frenzied, and obviously desperate to bolt, like a squirrel caught in a birdcage. "I- I didn't mean to-" Ginny replied in a voice like a strangled cough. She sounded chillingly sincere, and properly horrified.

"Ginny, you-" Harry stopped short mid-sentence, half because he didn't know what to even say, and half because he heard a noise- indistinct shouting- there was some sort of commotion occurring out on the deck. Harry thought he heard the words 'sneak-thief urchin!', and he definitely heard the words- 'think he went that way!'

Before Harry could wonder too long about all this, Malfoy popped in through the galley door at a bit of a run, smacked it shut behind him, and started fumbling with the old-fashioned latch, clearly trying to figure out how to close it.

"So have you got the supplies or what?" Malfoy gasped, sounding a bit winded. He gave up on the lock after about four seconds, and shot an unimpressed glance at the limp bird on the floor, and then at the cages of other agitated chickens. "I told you to get us some rations and all you managed was one lousy rooster?" he scoffed. "That's not even the fattest one! And how do you expect us to cook it on the go? Prioritize, Potter! Ew, it's not even dead!" he exclaimed, recoiling backwards a step as the rooster flopped one wing weakly and noiselessly opened and closed its beak. "You just can't do anything right!"

Harry rolled his eyes. It was like Malfoy thought him being his food-snatching, Muggle-zapping, rowboat-thieving sidekick was actually a feasible option.

"Oy, wot's all the ruckus about?" growled a loud voice from outside the galley door, followed by a sharp creak of door hinges.

Malfoy rapidly dodged behind the opening door, and Harry briefly glimpsed him standing on his tiptoes, with his back up against the wall- before the door swung open further, hiding the Slytherin from view.

Looking up jumpily, Harry saw that four sleepy-eyed sailors had accumulated at the doorway of the galley, and none of them looked too sunshiny-happy.

"No- no ruckus, no ruckus whatsoever, this is an entirely ruckus-free zone-" Harry stammered, cringing inwardly at how un-casual that sounded. "Hi, my name's Harry Potter, I don't suppose we've met," he added quickly.

That usually distracted people, but this time it didn't work.

The sailors stared right past Harry into the room, at Ginny- and at the rooster, still thrashing on the floor.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!" Ginny repeated in choked yelps.

"She didn't mean to..." Harry quickly stopped himself from saying 'it's not her fault, she looked hypnotized!' since sailors were supposedly highly superstitious, and that excuse might not fly in this century. "...s-stumble into this room where a rooster was already dying on the floor- we're just as shocked as you are- more shocked even!" he finished awkwardly.

Ginny still looked like she wanted to bolt, but the door was now blocked by the sailors, so she just darted her eyes around nervously, probably searching for alternate exits.

A moment later, Will Turner's dark curls bobbed into view, and the next moment, he had nimbly maneuvered his way around the other sailors' coats and elbows, into the crowded little galley. The cabin boy looked wide-eyed and alert, but also clearly a bit bedraggled and sleep-deprived. And, like Ginny, he was also glancing around a lot. "Oh- morning Harry! Morning Miss Weasley!" Will greeted with his friendly smile. "Um- what's..." his sentence trailed off as he spotted the 'rooster of sudden importance' that everyone else was staring at.

"It was already dying on the floor or somethin'?" one of the four doorway sailors put in uncertainly, trying to answer Will's un-asked question.

"Yeah, um- or something," Harry added lamely, nervously sliding a hand through his hair, and adjusting his glasses again. He wasn't used to this pair. They were slightly oversized, and kept sliding down his nose. And then there was the making everything look green thing.

"It's suffering..." Ginny whimpered.

Will the helpful bounded over to the counter, snatched up a knife from the kitchen drawer, and swiftly put the rooster out of its misery, with one quick stab to the brain.

Ginny shrieked.

"There there, it's alright, it's in heaven now," Will assured her, while giving her a quick awkward-hug- just very lightly touching her small shoulders with one arm, like he wasn't sure the hug was allowed, but wanted to comfort her anyway. Will's line of sight drifted to the crack under the doorframe, where just a sliver of Malfoy's shoes were visible. "He's over here!" Will called out abruptly. "Behind the door!"

Malfoy shoved the door in question open roughly, attempting to hit it into Will- who easily dodged out of the way. "You ruddy snitch!" Malfoy snarled, glaring razor blades at Will. "And I don't mean the golden kind!"

Harry groaned mentally. It was much too early in the morning for things to get this crazy.

Just then, the sailors loitering in the doorway scattered aside, as Captain Wentmark's second-in-command, First Mate Phillip Lanefox, swiftly barged into the room, tailed closely by Hermione, who was saying loudly, "-But honestly, he wasn't!" It was getting crowded in the small galley.

"Morning Miss Granger!" Will greeted brightly.

As quick as blinking, Phillip sighted Malfoy lurking by the wall, and roughly grabbed Malfoy's left arm.

With his free hand, Malfoy snagged a sharp-looking chopping knife out of the still-open counter drawer, with a lethal glint in his eyes.

Not losing a second, Harry leaped forward and grabbed the gleaming utensil away from the fuming Slytherin boy before things got unnecessarily bloody. Well, more bloody, Harry thought, glancing queasily down at the dead rooster and the small splatter of blood on the floorboards, slowly dripping down its throat and pooling under its beak.

Malfoy abruptly lurched out of Phillip's grip, grabbed Harry's wrist and tried to snatch the knife back by the hilt- but Harry managed to wrench his wrist free, and sharply tossed the knife out the galley window, where it clinked harmlessly to the deck outside.

"Did you see that?" remarked a black-haired sailor with a ripped coat sleeve, staring incredulously at Phillip. "The scamp just tried to knife you!"

"Relax, Lore, I've got it sorted-" Phillip retorted, as he quickly grabbed Malfoy under the arms from behind, hoisting him off his feet, before Malfoy could try running off or grabbing any other sharp objects.

"Unhand me or I will destroy you, you filthy Muggle!" Malfoy snarled, kicking at the nearby counter, in an attempt to shove Phillip backwards.

"It's really best you don't touch him," Hermione informed Phillip exasperatedly, half-hiding her face in her hand with obvious embarrassment at Malfoy's violent antics.

Personally, Harry was more unnerved than embarrassed. Malfoy had looked downright murderous when he'd went for that knife. On the bright side, Malfoy's vicious outburst seemed to have distracted everyone from all the weirdness with Ginny and the rooster, so... there was that, at least.

Phillip easily solved the 'nearly getting knocked backwards' problem by rotating his stance a bit, so that Malfoy's feet were just kicking at midair.

"Scrappy little castaway, isn' he?" muttered a stocky sailor wearing a greenish leather waistcoat with loads of pockets. "Why's he always in a tizzy, do you figure?"

"An' what's a- 'Muggle'?" asked a slimmer sailor, who looked about as old as Oliver Wood, and reminded Harry of a blond preying mantis.

The sailor called Lore just shrugged.

In the background, Harry noticed that Will had grabbed a mop, and was now silently mopping up the rooster blood, while keeping a wary eye on the proceedings. Harry was beginning to suspect Will was sort of a workaholic.

Just now, the preying mantis sailor was circling around Phillip. "Ya know..." the mantis-like sailor said, peering curiously at Malfoy, and narrowly avoiding getting kicked, "He somewhat reminds me..."

Malfoy stopped struggling for just a second, staring attentively back at the twiggy blond sailor- It's not possible, right? Harry wondered. He can't possibly recognize Draco as a Malfoy. Right?

"..Of..." the blond sailor continued contemplatively, "...of a yappy little lap spaniel!"

"Ha! Don't he just!" a bulky, abnormally loud sailor barked out jovially.

"I knew a fine lady once whom owned a lap spaniel of just that selfsame temperament," the mantis-like sailor added smirkily.

Seeing that he was just being insulted, and not recognized, Malfoy immediately resumed struggling.

"Aye, as if you ever knew a fine lady, Thimbles," Lore snicker-scoffed. "Or any lady, fer that matter."

"Let me down!" Malfoy yelped, his voice getting slightly high-pitched. "Let me down!"

Harry had thought Malfoy was just being his usual obnoxious elitist self again, but no- Harry now realized that Malfoy was panicking. Actual panicking. Harry decided now would be a good time to awkwardly intervene again. "Um-" he began.

"Maybe just let him down," Will suggested dubiously, before Harry could say anything.

"Sure thing," Phillip agreed amiably. To Malfoy, he added, "First explain why you were nabbing that rowboat."

"Rowboat?" Ginny repeated, clearly confused. Glancing down at the floorboards, she muttered dizzily, "But- I thought the swaying was just in my head...", while at the same time Hermione insisted shrilly,

"He wasn't stealing the rowboat!"

"Well he could've fooled me," Phillip replied flatly.

Still writhing, Malfoy hissed, "Yes, but probably anyone could've fooled you, judging from your abnormally stupid face, so what's your point?"

Surprisingly, Phillip laughed. "Oh really?" he snickered with a whimsical grin. "Abnormally stupid? What's the regular amount of stupid, then?"

"Take Potter's face there for reference," Draco growled between his teeth.

"Well then I'd say you have some high standards," Phillip replied casually, with a slight teasing edge to his voice, "cause that's an intelligent-looking lad if ever I saw one."

Harry decided he liked Phillip. Also, he was glad Phillip seemed to be taking this so well- the man seemed more amused than insulted. Harry wasn't so sure about the other sailors, though. Well, Thimbles was snickering too, but the other three- Lore, the loud one, and the one with the pockets- they all looked a bit cross.

"Intelligent? Him?" Malfoy scoffed incredulously. "Potter? Ha! If all the things Potter doesn't know were compiled on a list, it would stretch from here to- why am I even talking to you?"

"Because I'm not putting you down till you tell me why you were nabbing that rowboat," Phillip retorted strictly.

"He really wasn't," Hermione cut in quickly. "You see- when our last ship sank, none of the rowboats worked- and it turned out tragically disastrous, so Malfoy was just testing out the rowboats on this ship to make sure they're sound and alright, since he's paranoid about it. He was up all night worrying. He just very much doesn't want to drown. Like his entire family."

"The Malfoys drowned?!" Ginny gasped, looking sharply toward Malfoy, her eyes wide with confused horror.

Harry glanced at Ginny in concern- did she have amnesia or something? He couldn't remember her hitting her head-But maybe she had when we were all being petrified by Troth?

"Really Granger?" Malfoy scoffed dryly, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "That again?"

"Again?" Ginny repeated, looking even more painfully confused.

"Why was he stealing rations and supplies?" Phillip asked Hermione.

"He was just- er-" Hermione paused, tucking some of her frizzy hair behind her ear, and looking quite flustered, "-um, simulating the weight of the other sailors that were going to be in the rowboat because- he doesn't weigh very much. As I'm sure you and your amazing arms have noticed," she added very quickly and matter-of-factly.

"Aye, lad's a real featherweight," Phillip agreed.

"I believe her story," Will said.

"So do I!" Thimbles chimed in randomly.

"I hate you all," Malfoy griped. By this point, the Slytherin had stopped struggling, and was now just sulking and glaring. Probably finally realized how stupid he looked with all that kicking and flailing and squirming, Harry guessed.

"Yes- um- and-" Hermione stammered on, "-well, it's early morning- so- so he didn't want to bother any of you by waking you up to help him test the rowboats."

"Rowboats?" Ginny echoed again emptily, with clear undertones of panic. "Ship? What? When? Where are we? Who are all these people? How'd the Malfoys drown? What's going on?" Harry suddenly realized her pleading eyes were looking to him for answers.

As if he had any.

"She's a little spatially unaware," Hermione informed the sailors quickly.

"She's a space a what?" Thimbles asked.

"Oh, you know Ginny," Harry explained awkwardly, "you're just disoriented since you woke up from a bad dream- you know exactly where you are- you're here, on a ship, called the Avalon, in the eighteenth century, in the middle of the Caribbean Ocean, since our ship sunk and these superstitious non-witch-liking sailors saved us."

Hermione smacked her face into her palm again, as if that could somehow help her hide from Harry's sloppy recap of their cover story.

"What?" Ginny whined, clearly still hopelessly lost.

"Witch?" Lore repeated warily, glancing sideways at Harry. "Who said anything about a witch?"

"Oh, I just assumed you didn't like witches," Harry replied uncertainly. He paused awkwardly a sec, then added, "Do you?"

"Course we don' like witches!" barked the constantly loud sailor in his constantly outdoor voice. "Why, if there were a witch aboard this ship, I'd toss her overboard!"

Ginny took a nervous step backwards, clearly disturbed by this news.

"Yeah, I figured," Harry muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Will had stopped mopping. The cabin boy had frozen tensely in place- his hands clenching tighter around the mop handle- and he'd gone as pale as the sails outside. Weirdly enough, Will looked even more disturbed than Ginny. Wow, old-fashioned people are- were- paranoid about witches, Harry thought.

"Not like there's any real witches here-" Malfoy muttered scathingly under his breath, "just a stupid Mudblood, and a Blood-traitor."

"I say we toss that one overboard," the loud sailor said loudly, pointing at Malfoy. "The one mutterin' about blood an' traitors an what!"

"Aye Norman, for sure you do," retorted the sailor with the pocketed waistcoat, rolling his eyes. "Because you're you."

"Lad looks to be an albino, and I've heard tell those are bad luck," Lore added, sounding like he was starting to agree with Norman.

"Fine!" Malfoy retorted acidly, glaring back at Lore. "Throw me overboard! Go ahead then! I don't want to be on this scuzzy Muggle ship anyways!"

"Happy to oblige!" Norman roared, and with no more warning than that, he forcefully grabbed the front of Malfoy's fancy green jacket in his fists, tore him away from Phillip, and started dragging him out the open galley door.

Phillip swore and hurried after Norman, with everyone else in the galley in quick pursuit.

Right before Norman could wrench Malfoy over the rail and into the ocean, Phillip managed to grab the Slytherin back, and ordered Norman: "Belay that! Stand down, man! He's just a lad!"

It was at that exact moment that Captain Wentmark appeared on deck, briskly coming down the stairs from the captain's cabin. He wasn't wearing his wig or coat or even shoes- and yet somehow looked remarkably sophisticated for a man who'd just stumbled out of bed. "Norman Brackelby," Wentmark demanded in a crisp, collected tone, "why is it every time I come out on deck you're attempting to throw someone overboard? Honestly, we're not properly crewed as it is. Ever since we left England, all I've been hearing is a nigh endless litany of, 'let's throw him overboard!', again, and again, and far too frequently for my liking."

"But Cap-" Norman whined.

Wentmark silenced him with a hard look, and Norman reluctantly let go of Malfoy's coat. Phillip still kept hold of Malfoy, though, which Malfoy looked supremely irritated about- but he didn't bother struggling this time.

"Now- what seems to be the trouble?" the captain demanded calmly.

"That one killed a rooster, and that one tried to knife Phillip," Lore said, pointing first at Ginny, then at Malfoy.

"So what if I did?" Malfoy shot back venomously.

"Yeah- ignore him-" Harry cut in, "he doesn't mean it- he's not actually violent- he's just got PTSD-"

From behind the sailors, Hermione frantically waved her hands, mouthing 'NO!' at Harry.

"Er- I mean- pre-tty extreme... nerves," Harry said instead. "He's got pretty extreme nerves."

Hermione shrugged, as if to say, 'oh well, I guess that'll work.'

"His nerves are totally botched," Harry went on quickly. "From the ship explosion."

"Explosion?" Ginny gasped. "What?!"

"That's why he's all erratic and stuff," Harry went on, ignoring her. "I'm sure it'll wear off soon."

"Let the lad down, Phillip," Captain Wentmark ordered calmly.

"Sure about that, Captain?" Phillip asked, sounding not too sure himself.

"Yes, quite," Wentmark replied, still as calm as untroubled pondwater.

Phillip cautiously put Malfoy down- then had to dodge out of the way as Malfoy tried to jab an elbow into his side.

Turning to face Malfoy, Wentmark said cordially, "Now lad, mind to explain why you'd want to knife my first mate?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Malfoy snapped haughtily.

"True," Wentmark agreed, locking eyes with the silver-blond boy. Then the captain said nothing, for almost half a minute.

Malfoy glared back, but he seemed to be getting unnerved by the silent, expectant pause. "He grabbed me," Malfoy said finally.

"And why'd he do that?" Wentmark asked.

"Because he's a thuggish cretin," Malfoy drawled harshly.

"He was trying to make off with a rowboat, provisions, and the navigational tools, Captain," Phillip reported. "Won't say why."

"But he wasn't actually-" Hermione stammered. "You see-"

"I should think it obvious," Malfoy cut in sharply. "I want off this ship."

"Why?" Wentmark asked curiously.

"Because you're all on it," Malfoy retorted.

"Do you have a particular grievance with my crew?" Wentmark asked.

Malfoy gave him an infinitely cold look. "Their existence, for one."

Why did Malfoy have to be so impossible? Harry wondered, inwardly cringing. I mean- he hadn't exactly expected him to be great at interacting with Muggles, but did he have to be absolutely the worst at it?

"Like Harry said, it's his nerves!" Hermione yipped abruptly. "Poor Draco doesn't even know what he's saying-"

"He's usually just- so much more polite," Harry lied emphatically, trying not to let his sarcasm show.

"He's delirious, really-" Hermione added, "from the explosion- and- and the seawater-"

"Aye, almost-drowning can do terrible things to folks' heads," the sailor with all the pockets chimed in. "Should've had a gander at this cove I knew back in Dover- poor fellow fell overboard one stormy night, an' once they recovered him from the briny waves he could scarce string two words together, poor blighter. Also, chap was convinced the Grim Reaper had an octopus for a beard. Bosh and rubbish, everything in his noggin. And he, an educated man of Cambridge, got his letters and learning and everything! Doubt this one's mind was near as sharp as all that ta start with, so it's really no wonder to me if he's a raving lunatic now."

"How, dare, you?" Malfoy snapped, bristling. "My mind's perfectly fine. The best! Scads better than yours, I bet."

"Well that's what a lunatic lap spaniel would say," Thimbles added with a conspiratorial smirk.

"And you say this one killed the rooster?" Wentmark asked Phillip, glancing dubiously at Ginny, who was clutching the sides of her arms and looking incredibly fragile and lost. Harry wouldn't have believed it either, if he hadn't seen her snap the rooster's neck with his own eyes.

"I killed the rooster, Captain," Will corrected quickly, jumping to Ginny's defense.

"No," Ginny murmured suddenly. "It's my fault. I- I'm sorry," Ginny stammered, with fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I think I was sleep-walking... Um- I- actually- I think I might still be sleepwalking, right now-"

"Which is a perfectly natural response to the trauma of a ship explosion-" Hermione jumped in hurriedly, "-in fact, sleep disorders like somnambulism are-"

"She didn't kill it," Will insisted doggedly.

Oh sure, Harry thought sarcastically, so I can't say PTSD, but it's perfectly casual and okay for Hermione to say things like 'somnambulism'.

"Bird was twitching on the floor when Lore, Brackelby, Thimbles an' me got there," the sailor with all the pockets explained, "an' the ginger lass was hollerin' how she didn' mean to, then Turner here put the creature out of its misery."

"Well then, Mr. Greer," Wentmark remarked evenly, "As young Miss Weasely is clearly mortified to the point of tears, I see no reason to doubt her story. And as it was merely a rooster and not one of the laying hens, I see no harm done."

"No harm, as such, just powerful odd, is all," Greer remarked.

"'Specially first thing in the morning," Lore grumbled sourly.

"Greer-" Wentmark instructed, "do wake up Mr. Prynn and inform him he has a rooster to pluck. It would appear we are having chicken for breakfast."

"Aye, Cap'n," Greer said with a curt nod.

"Why not just make her pluck the rooster?" Lore asked, waving a hand toward Ginny.

"Can't you see the child's upset?" Wentmark chided Lore. "Where is your sympathy? These children are poor victims of foul mischance, and we must show them kindness. Oh, and speaking of such- Greer-" Wentmark called across the deck to the departing sailor, "-tell Mr. Prynn to feel free to use the special occasion stores- I should like for us to greet our new guests properly, with a cordial breakfast."

"He means not gruel," Thimbles clarified smirkily.

"If we're makin' a fancy brekkist, dishes'll need doin'," Mr. Greer called back, as he started climbing down the ladder to belowdecks.

"Ugh, I forgot to do dishes last night!" Will exclaimed, suddenly looking very annoyed with himself.

Wentmark gave a small, exasperated smile. "I intentionally didn't remind you," he told Will kindly. "William, you have been taking on too much as of late." Wentmark glanced pointedly at the mop Will was still clutching.

Will blinked at the mop for a sec- like he'd forgotten he was even holding it. "Sir, if I may-" Will argued respectfully, "you're giving me passage to the Caribbean, no questions asked, with no letter of recommendation, and without binding me to a contract, nor making me sign on for an extended voyage to Africa first and then Jamaica on the Triangle Trade, nor making me juggle and do backflips to earn my keep- none of the other captains in Dover would do that. I want to be useful."

"Nonetheless, this morning I should like you to assign some of your chores to the new children," Wentmark declared.

"That's- truly not necessary-" Will insisted awkwardly, casting embarrassed glances at the four Hogwarts kids.

"Oh, we'd love to help!" Hermione chirped.

Malfoy shot her a venomous glance.

"I'd much rather they- not," Will stammered.

"William," Wentmark replied patiently, "it's four hundred and forty-six leagues till we make port, and even the sanest men can go mad with boredom on a ship, given no occupation. These distressed children could use something to take their minds off the tragedy which has befallen them. Surely you can part with some of your many chores."

"I... suppose..." Will muttered forlornly, not looking especially happy. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, visibly brightening, "Singing! One of them can have singing!"

"Ooh- isn' that one a music conductor's kid?" Thimbles added enthusiastically, pointing at Malfoy.

"I am not!" Malfoy retorted furiously.

"Sing somethin', Blondie!" Norman hollered mockingly.

"No!" Malfoy snapped.

"Actual chores, William," Captain Wentmark chided with an exasperated sigh.

"Singing is a chore," Will muttered quietly, but Wentmark had already turned his attention to the First Mate.

"Have all the stolen navigational tools been recovered, Phillip?" Wentmark asked.

Phillip nodded curtly. "Aye, Captain."

"Good," Wentmark replied. "See that they are returned to Thomas' sea chest before he notices them missing. You know what a delicate constitution that lad has- a scare like that could do him in." The captain glanced up at the dawn sky then, just a trace of unease surfacing on his placid face, and added, "I don't care for these clouds." With this statement, Wentmark turned distractedly, and left up the nearby stairs, back to his cabin.

"I'm going back to sleep," Lore declared dryly, and he left too.

Norman yawned widely, stretching his brawny arms dramatically over his head, then dropped them back down in a tired slump, and wandered off as well.

Now the only two crew members left on deck were Thimbles- who was leaning his back and scrawny elbows against the ship's rail, watching the newcomer kids from a distance- and Will, who was still standing there holding his mop.

There was silence for a heartbeat, as the five kids glanced at each other- Ginny keeping close beside Harry, Hermione standing near Will, and Malfoy still standing isolated near the rail, in the exact spot Phillip had put him down earlier.

Then Will edged forward cautiously, trying to approach Malfoy. "So... um..." he began.

"Get away from me, snitch!" Malfoy snarled, jumping back a step, and shooting Will a viperous scowl.

Will blinked. "I was just looking out for your best interests," he insisted. "You don't even know how to mop. On the open sea- in a rowboat? You'd die out there for sure."

"Well anything's better than being on this ship with you lot," Malfoy snapped back haughtily.

"...Nnno, that's not even true," Hermione countered. "So Will," she added, in a doggedly chipper tone, "about these chores- what can we help with?"

"What does a cabin boy even do?" Harry added curiously.

"Um- well..." Will replied reluctantly, "today I was supposed to help Thimbles with the mending-"

"I can mend," Ginny stated softly.

"Oh, I'll bet you can," Malfoy scoffed. "Probably never owned a single scrap of fabric that wasn't made out of secondhand patches. Probably weave the patches out of hairballs your owls cough up."

"Owls?" Will echoed.

Thimbles briskly bounded over just then, practically skipping. "Fellow mender, eh?" he asked Ginny brightly.

"But I'm not very good at it," Ginny mumbled in embarassment, staring at her feet.

"That's a'right, neither am I!" Thimbles replied. "See, we've loads in common already! Seeya at eight bells, Will, I'm swiping this one." Turning to Ginny again, Thimbles added, "Together, we can be the best worst tailors ever! In all the lands! We shall be unstoppable!" With this triumphant declaration, the mantis-like sailor led Ginny off, down one of the hatches, and out of sight.

Great, and now Ginny's been dragged off before I can properly explain to her what's going on, Harry thought, feeling a bit sorry for her. Maybe after chores I'll get the chance to.

"Oh- I'd best get the wash off the ratlines," Will said abruptly, glancing up at the clouds Wentmark had mentioned before. "It's probably dry now, but might not be for long. S'pose you three can help with that, if you like." As soon as he finished his sentence, Will dropped his mop, darted off to the other side of the deck like he wanted to escape the conversation, and jumped up onto a nearby mesh of ropes- or ratlines, I guess, Harry figured. Will maneuvered around to the top side of the ratlines, and spryly climbed partway up them, to where an assortment of shirts, trousers, stockings, caps, coats, and four small black robes were pinned up, flapping gently in the breeze.

"I'll toss them down, and you can fold-" Will started to call down, but his sentence was snuffed out as a wild spray of ocean leaped up high out of nowhere, crashed into the clothes on the ratlines, and swept over Will, knocking him around the edge of the ratlines, and back down to the deck.

Hermione gasped, and was at Will's side in an instant, with Harry close behind. "Are you alright?" Hermione demanded, almost bossily, as she hovered over the soaked, dazed cabin boy.

"Just- bruises," Will coughed, attempting a smile, which quickly turned into a wince.

"Oh sure, hang the clothes to dry where they can all get splashed," Malfoy drawled snidely, pacing over as well, considerably slower than Hermione had. "Exactly the sort of brain-dead thing I'd expect a Muggle to think up."

Hermione shot Malfoy a quick, terrifying scowl, before immediately turning her attention back to the cabin boy.

Will curled his neck up off the floor, sliding an elbow backward to partially prop himself up. "Well- um- never mind that," he said sheepishly, staring up at the now completely soaked and dripping clothes.

The ship lurched sharply twice more in the rough waves, toppling Hermione over, but not Harry and Malfoy- probably because Seekers had excellent balance. Or maybe Malfoy was just too stubborn to fall. After a moment, the ship returned to a more reasonable sway.

"So- what other chores can we help with?" Hermione asked Will brightly, as she sat up primly, and pushed her dishevelled hair out of her face.

Will looked momentarily lost. "The windows in the captain's cabin need cleaning, I suppose..." he muttered finally.

"I can clean windows!" Hermione declared, even more brightly.

"It's dangerous though," Will warned.

Hermione's bright smile turned quizzical. "What's dangerous about window washing?" she asked.

Will shrugged. "Nothing-" he said, "-if you're cleaning them from the inside. Cleaning the outside of the windows is a bit more chancy. You need to use rope to harness yourself, and not slip on the wet wood, and- and- no I think I ought to do that one myself."

"I can wash the inside of the windows, you can wash the outside," Hermione said firmly, like it was already decided. "Easy."

Will stared up at her uncertainly for a few seconds. "...Alright," he sighed at last, before the pause could get awkward. Will's glance dropped to the puddle of seawater under his soggy elbows. Then he glanced at Malfoy... "Oh!" Will said with a sudden grin, "And I know just what you can do." Jumping to his feet, Will sprinted over to the side of the deck where he'd dropped his mop, picked it up, grabbed a nearby bucket hanging up on a metal hook on the rail, and then sprinted back. "You'll be swabbing the deck," Will announced to Malfoy, holding the mop and bucket out toward the Slytherin.

"Swab it yourself," Malfoy snarled snippily.

"I would," Will countered amiably, "but I think I'd rather teach you a valuable skill."

"As if you even know the meaning of the word 'valuable', you pathetic guttersnipe," Malfoy scoffed.

"Malfoy!" Hermione scolded sharply.

At least he didn't say 'Muggle' again, Harry thought.

"You needn't be intimidated by mopping," Will informed Malfoy, just as sunnily as if Malfoy hadn't insulted him a bit, "Here, I'll show you how, it's easy."

"You know what else would be easy?" Malfoy drawled darkly. "Shoving you overboard!"

"Now, let's start with basics," Will said, clearly not backing down in the least. "This is a mop. It mops things. Like decks. Observe, as I swish the mop over this water, soaking it up. Then I lift the mop over this bucket, and I wring it out, like so, then I return the mop to the deck, and swish it over the water again. And repeat. That's the method for getting water up. Next I'll show you the method for swabbing dry decks. It's similar to the 'getting water up' method, only you're putting water on the deck- but not too much. See? And then you swab. It's usually a back and forth motion, but circles work too. The idea is to swab off the grime, leaving the deck clean," Will described in patronizing detail, while demonstrating every step of this process. "But dry deck swabbing might be too tricky for you just now, so we'll just start simple, with swabbing up this water." He held out the mop to Malfoy again. "Alright, now you try."

Malfoy fixed Will with a withering look. "Maybe I haven't made it clear yet how much that's never going to happen."

Will tossed Malfoy the mop.

Malfoy reflexively caught it, like it was a broom.

"Look, just try it," Will prompted encouragingly, "and then I'll tell you what you're doing wrong."

Swinging the mop abruptly, Malfoy smacked Will sharply in the ribs with it.

"Malfoy!" Harry and Hermione hissed at the same time.

"Yeah- that's wrong," Will said, with a light cough. "Let's try again."

Malfoy just held the mop far out to his left, and dropped it carelessly, with a loud 'clack' noise as it hit the deck.

"Honestly Malfoy," Hermione sighed in exasperation, "haven't you ever mopped a floor?"

"Don't you dare insult me like that!" Malfoy snarled, whirling furiously to glare at her.

"Oh sorry-" she snapped back wryly, "how would you prefer to be insulted?"

Malfoy's glare turned subzero. "Don't you have some window-scrubbing you just volunteered for, like the servile seventh-class scum you are?" he asked sleekly, drenching every word in contempt.

Hermione inhaled sharply, marched up to Harry, and hissed in a quick, tense whisper, "Harry, if I stay one more second, I-" She made a snarled noise between her teeth, then added briskly, "Make sure he doesn't shove Will overboard." Spinning back around, she stalked off toward the captain's cabin.

"Thought so," Malfoy scoffed loudly as she left.

Hermione's fists clenched, and her steps got faster.

"Er- Will?" Harry said as Hermione stormed out of sight, "Better go help her, or she'll scrub the inside and outside of those windows herself, just to prove she can."

Will glanced up toward the captain's cabin, looking worried at the thought. "She would?"

"When she's in this mood? Definitely." Glancing at Malfoy's stubbornly crossed arms again, and then back at Will, Harry added, "Also- I could swab the deck, you know."

"No you couldn't!" Malfoy yapped, sounding positively aghast. "Don't tell him that!"

Harry shrugged irritably, and said, "I could, though."

"Thanks anyway, but I'd really like to give Draco the opportunity," Will declined pleasantly, with just the slightest vindictive emphasis on the word 'Draco'.

"Well- I can wash the dishes, then," Harry offered.

Malfoy shot him an appalled look.

"Alright," Will sighed, after a brief pause. "Sorry again for forgetting to get them done last night."

"It's fine," Harry assured him. "You should go help Hermione with those windows."

"Right," Will said, with a small nod. Turning back to Malfoy, he added uncertainly, "Um you- I guess- just- look at the mop for a while, till you get used to the idea of picking it up. I'll be back to assess your progress in an hour. Try not to fall overboard."

"You're delusional if you think I'm ever swabbing your stupid deck!" Malfoy shouted after Will, as Will hurried up the stairs to the captain's cabin. "Potter," Malfoy said in a more composed tone, once Will was out of sight, "You can't honestly think you're going to-"

But Harry was already stalking swiftly toward the galley, purposefully ignoring him. Because right now, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't shove Malfoy overboard himself.