The men come down the stairs, whooping and hollering. They looked wild; they wore rags, no shoes, had tattoos, earrings, and gold teeth. They held with them a ring of keys, jingling like a song of freedom.
They explored the hallway leading to Harry's cell, banging and yelling into the other cells.
Harry knew they were empty. He'd been here a while; he was more interested in the keys.
'If I call their attention,' Harry thought to himself, 'then I'll have the attention of people who could potentially free me. They do have keys, after all. But, on the other hand, they could also kill me.'
It was only a brief moment where Harry hesitated, but it ended up not mattering. The tallest of the pirates dropped a bottle of liquid on the floor. Startled by his own clumsiness, he stumbled against the nearest wall. This caused him to knock a torch off the wall, which then fell onto the liquid (most likely pirate brandy) which then in turn promptly caught fire.
"You bastard!" One pirate, shorter than the other two, with a bald head and full red beard, yelled at the taller man. "That was mine!"
"It weren't, and yer a dirty rotten liar for it!" The other, dark skinned and with dreadlocks, yelled right back.
The third pirate cursed, before running back to the stairs. The other two followed him, ill-will forgotten and comrades in sin once again.
Harry, however, was left with a fire raging nearby and shackles on his wrists. He promptly abandoned his pride.
"Help! Heeeeelp!! Anybody! Hello?" He yelled, pulling at his chains. Instead of loosening them (as he had hoped) it only broke his bruised skin and caused bleeding.
"Oh fuck me sideways," he cursed, looking around desperately for an escape. There, on the floor, he saw it. They had dropped the keys in their haste, leaving them a scant few feet from Harry's cell.
Harry, for a precious few seconds, tried to reach them. He stretched out his whole body, using his toes to try and grab the ring.
Usually it's useful to be short and small. It's easier to reach places that ought not to be reached, easier to pretend to be young.
It was most definitely not a good thing when you were struggling for your life to reach an object. Harry was barely three inches away from the keys, fully stretched out. There was no chance of him grabbing them.
An explosion boomed above him, and the fire steadily crept towards his cell. The keys jumped slightly at the explosion, moving farther away from him.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Harry chanted in a mockery of prayer. The fire was becoming too hot, and Harry withdrew.
He coughed from the smoke, gasping at the heat. It didn't take long for him to pass out.
HPHPHP
Harry had never before wondered what death felt like. He just kind of assumed that it would be nothing- nothing to feel, nothing to worry about.
He didn't think it felt like flames creeping over his body, the inescapable urge to claw at his skin and free himself, or the agony of a parched throat.
Even if he had thought that's what it felt like, he would be wrong. Harry wasn't dead; he was merely mostly dead.
Voices murmured above him, distantly distracting him. He felt like he was floating, bathing in pain. Burns everywhere caused him aggravation, and he honestly wished he had died.
He felt back asleep to the soothing sounds of waves.
HPHPHP
When Harry woke up again, the first sensation he felt was pain. The second was the unmistakable roll of the ocean under a ship deck.
He groaned, in too much pain to do anything else.
"Ah, you're awake." A quiet voice beside him spoke. Harry startled, causing himself more pain. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and had not been aware of the man's presence.
"Calm down," the voice consoled, "if I were going to hurt you, I wouldn't have waited 'til now."
Harry tried to calm his breathing, but it was a hard thing to do when he felt like there was a whole ship sitting upon his chest. He felt fatigued, as if he'd not had a good nights rest in several weeks.
"Oi! You! Go alert the captain. He's awake." Harry heard the pattering of small footsteps, and tried to open his eyes. It worked, but his head immediately began to pound-another injury he hadn't yet noticed.
Harry was in a small cabin room, laying down on a hard bed. The room was lit by a single hanging lamp, and a small window sat above Harry's head. There was little else to see, but Harry knew that, for a ship, this room was huge.
Harry found that he was topless, his scarred chest exposed. It was covered in what used to be white bandages, now stained from blood. His trousers were burned and patchy in places. Shoes were a luxury Harry seldom had the pleasure of knowing. Now was no different.
The next thing he noticed was the man sitting on a stool beside him, staring. Harry could tell, even when the man was sitting down, that he loomed. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, bits of oily black hair falling free; his nose was hooked, and his skin sallow.
"Wh-" Harry croaked, before coughing. His chest hurt even more. "Where... am I...?" He asked between trying to breathe.
"You are aboard the Voldemort." the man said, distaste clear on his face. Harry didn't know whether the man was upset by the ship's name, Harry himself, or just life in general.
"I'm Doctor Tobias Snape. You may call me Doctor Snape, or sir. I saved your life," he sneered, "and I will take it if need be."
Harry coughed once more.
"I thought you weren't going to kill me?" Harry asked, snark oozing into his voice.
Something about this man pissed him off, and he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the disdain on his face, reminding Harry of his own street urchin days- when rich men would sneer at Harry as if he were a rat. Perhaps it was his situation that made him lash out, and this doctor was the nearest target.
Harry coughed again.
... Or maybe it was the fact that Doctor Snape had not yet offered him water.
"I said if I wanted to, you would already be dead. I have yet to feel the need, or want, to kill you. Now stay quiet, or you might yet tempt me." Snape, Harry couldn't possibly imagine him being a legitimate doctor, snarked right back at Harry.
Before a full-blown argument could develop, a knock came from outside the small room. Snape bid the stranger enter, and in came a cabin-boy.
"The Captain's been told!" the boy chirped, disgustingly cheery. "He said," here the boy adopted a puffed up stature, standing tall and placing his hands behind his back in an obvious imitation of the captain, "'Tell Snape that I'll be there as soon as my business with Captain Black is completed.'" The boy's faux-deep voice was comical.
"Thank you, Michael." Snape watched the boy, amusement in his eyes. His attention turned to Harry. "This is where I leave you," he said as he stood up, "You'll meet Captain Riddle soon enough."
With that, both the boy and the man left Harry on his own.
He didn't have to wait for long.
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