Selkies and Sparrows

Summary: When Jack Sparrow sailed into Port Royal that sunny day, it was his intention to commandeer one of those ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer his weaselly black guts out. What he ended up with was a young Selkie who used to go by the name of Harry Potter, but is currently in hiding from his friends, his enemies, and, most importantly, his destiny.

Parings: Jack Sparrow/Harry Potter (in other words, Slash. Non-slash people, ye be warned.)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine and neither, sad to say, is Pirates of the Caribbean, in any shape, form or manner except the one with pink and yellow tartan on it.

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"Forget this life,
Come with me,
Don't look back you're safe now.
Unlock your heart,
Drop your guard,
No one's left to stop you."

Evanescence, 'Anywhere'

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The Infernal Bottle

-

And far away, a dark shape curved and arched and whistled joyfully as it danced through the Caribbean Sea.

-

Captain Jack Sparrow lifted up the thick glass bottle in his right hand and studied it carefully. He then shook it energetically, spat on the side, and polished it with his sleeve. When a second examination proved the bottle to be as stubbornly empty as it had been prior to these actions, he made a face and let his arm flop dejectedly to the deck of his small and leaking but perfectly formed pirate vessel. His other arm, still holding onto the neck of the disappointing bottle, dangled over the edge of the boat. A second and a small splunking sound later, he stared at his now empty hand in confusion, opening and closing it again a few times for good measure.

Where had the bottle gone?

-

Approximately twelve meters below and seven to the right, a sleek seal paused in his own careful examination of the rocks. He looked up, dark liquid eyes picking out the foreign object in the otherwise clear blue ocean. No, his ears hadn't been deceiving him – there had been a splashing sound. And that meant that someone had thrown something into the Sea.

He blinked, then twisted around and swam towards the object with a few flips of his tail and flippers. Holding the object delicately so as not to damage it with his claws, he sniffed it carefully, then whistled in distress. A Landling object! The Landlings did not belong with the Sea. Everyone knew that, though too often the Landlings themselves only learnt when the Sea removed them. Often with a little help from the Storm Children, of which he was such a fine specimen, but he digresses.

He held the Landling object in his teeth as he swam upwards, so he could use his flippers to steer with. He dropped it down to his flippers though when he lifted his head out of the water to look around. The shore was quite a way away still; he could swim to it and get rid of the Landling object that way, but it would take time and there was a particular crab somewhere just below him that he'd been hunting out for ages. Plus, he really did not like the Land, for reasons he could never quite remember fully. He only knew that he belonged in the Sea, and should therefore avoid the Land.

He twisted in the water, looking the other way. Only a few lengths in front of him was a strange… Landling object? That was the only thing he could describe it as, but it didn't feel like a Landling at all. He blew a raspberry in thought, then ducked back under the water to swim closer.

He took a moment to study the Not-Landling object from underneath, then chattered happily in recognition. The dark shape was a Surface Seal! It was a young one, like he'd seen playing near the shores and sometimes hauled out on the sand to bask. Once they grew bigger they stopped visiting the shore though – like all Sea creatures, they learnt that their place was on the water. The Surface Seal would be able to take the Landling object he still held in his flippers safely to the shore, and he wouldn't have to go near the Land. The Storm Child whistled excitedly; it was a brilliant plan!

He lifted his head out of the water again next to the Surface Seal, and, with a deft toss of his flippers, the Landling object was safe with the Surface Seal. He stayed only long enough to check that the Surface Seal had a firm grip on it, then dived back under the water and resumed his search for the crab.

He had barely reached the rocks and pebbles before he heard a second splash. He looked up again, frowning slightly, and, sure enough, the sun was glinting off the glass Landling object as it sank through the water. Again.

He huffed in exasperation as he swam up to catch it for a second time. What was wrong with the Surface Seal? Was it ill? He swam up again with the Landling object, chattering angrily and worriedly at the Surface Seal as soon as his head broke the water. His dark eyes widened as he caught sight of a Landling riding on the Surface Seal, and he dived mid scolding, mind whirling and heart beating frantically as he turned somersaults in distress.

Landlings were not good. His memories agreed with that, both his own and the group memories that all Storm Children were granted by the Storms themselves. Those memories spoke of the Landlings trapping his kind on the Land, hiding their access to the Sea and binding them to a Landling form. The memories also showed how the Landlings killed their cousins, the seals the Storms favored and whose form they had chosen for their children. Landlings were the enemy; this he knew.

His other memories, his own memories, were wildly different. They had appeared only in flash, but the pain, the anger, the claustrophobia and the desperation they contained had been enough to send him fleeing beneath the waves with barely a first thought, let alone a second.

But it was his duty, the purpose the Storms had given him and his kind, to keep the Landlings from the Sea – which is why the Landling object must be returned to the Surface Seal, why he couldn't wait below the waves with it anymore. Either he brave the Landling riding the Surface Seal to return the Landling object, or he himself visit the Land. A fresh wave of helplessness washed over him at that prospect, and he shivered in the water, glaring up at the Surface Seal and gritting his teeth in determination.

Why was there a Landling on the Surface Seal? Something rose in his Storm given memories, a tale passed on through his race since the Surface Seals first came to the Sea. A pact, a peace treaty, that the Surface Seals would carry the Landlings over the Seas, but that the Landlings would go no further than that into claiming the oceans as theirs. Angrily, he discarded the myth. Why was there a Landling on the Surface Seal he was trying to talk to? It wasn't fair!

Nevertheless, he had a duty. A part of him, the part tied to his old memories of pain, rebelled hatefully at that thought. He ignored that part as he always did; damn thing was never happy, always restless with just existing in the Sea, always resentful of duty, morbidly fascinated with the Land but deathly terrified of it at the same time.

Putting aside the conflicting emotions and focusing on the simple determination to get the Landling object out of the Sea, the Selkie swam upwards. He lifted his head out of the water as close to the Surface Seal as he dared, hiding from the Landling in its shadow. He flared his nostrils, catching the scent of the Landling as he did so.

Frowning slightly, he sniffed again. The Landling smelled decidedly… odd. In a strangely familiar and comforting way. There were the usual Landling smells, of course – sweat, some vaguely fruity scent that made him wrinkle his nose in disapproval, outlandish scents of clothes and paint and many other scents that made up a Landling. But beneath it all… the Landling's scent had traces of a crackling, ever changing power that he knew he recognized, that ran deep within his own scent, albeit in a different form. And at the core, the Landling smelt even more like he did, with a longing for the open water and the freedom of the Sea.

Could the Landling be a Storm Child trapped in Landling form, like the legends warned?

-

Jack decided that this was Not a Good Day.

First, some pilfering scoundrel, no doubt evil incarnate spat out from the blackest pits of hell itself (damn you, Barbosa) had taken his rum, leaving him only an empty bottle as a reminder. Then the bottle had vanished out of his hand, leaving not even a blasted memory of the rum to comfort him in his time of loss. Had the Gods no pity?

As if in answer to his question, someone blew a raspberry at him. Scowling fiercely and pulling his single-shot pistol, Jack prepared to leap up and shoot the scallywag down to Davy Jones'. The shot might be saved for Barbosa, but rum was nothing to blow raspberries about.

When Jack did, however, leap up with braids flying and pistol cocked, he was faced with a flat, calm sea, empty and devoid of any and all targets. "Show yerself!" Jack commanded imperiously, the effect slightly spoiled by the way he waved his arms around to illustrate his point.

A slight splashing sound was all the warning he got before something heavy and wet landed on his foot, directly on the toe that he always seemed to stub and was most likely broken in several places. Muttering curses interspersed with threats to the invisible perpetrator, he picked up the bottle and studied it. Then he blinked and turned it over, stopping the end with his thumb so that the liquid inside (rum! Rum!a small part of him cackled delightedly) wouldn't pour out, he examined the base of the bottle.

Yes, it was the same bottle that had been evilly stolen from him; it had the scratches in the shape of a dog, if dogs were vaguely line shaped, and the person naming it a dog was stone drunk and delirious at the time. But since when had that stopped the famous and amazing Captain Jack Sparrow?

The afore mentioned Jack righted the bottle again, then licked his thumb delicately. After all, it would be just like the demons that no one else seemed to be able to see to torment him with the prospect of rum, when in actual fact it was – sea water.

The day had transmuted from Not Good to Officially Bloody Awful.

To express his eloquent feelings on the matter, Jack flung the bottle out of the boat, belatedly realizing that it may have been an idea to empty the bottle first. The water it sprayed on him made his hat wet, and thus would never be forgiven. Never. Never, ever in a million years of the cursed existence that –

An angry chattering behind him made him whirl around, but by the time he had located the source of the disturbance, it was nothing but ripples on the surface, indistinguishable from the other waves in the sea. Smirking grimly, Jack turned his back on the source of the disturbance, adopting a relaxed stance that belayed his tensed state. The vaguest hint of sound reached his ears and he spun around, cutlass and pistol drawn and pointing, aiming to catch the trespasser red handed.

The empty sea bubbled innocently back at him. No, goddammit, mockingly. Mockingly. Jack favored it with one of his best drunken sneers, showing the waves exactly what he thought of their childish games, and returned his cutlass and pistol to their holders.

Still facing the stern of the boat, just to disabuse the sea of the notion of trying anything behind his back, Jack took out his compass and checked his bearing. The arrow spun to face his chest, and, if he continued the trail, to Port Royal where, according to the magic and powers of the mind reading compass, he would find a ship to commandeer.

Smirking happily at that thought, Jack turned around, only to come face to eyes with a pair of deep green pools, so dark they appeared almost black.

The thing had the audacity to bark happily at him, dumping the infernal bottle on his toe again as it opened its mouth.

-

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A/N: Slightly shorter than the previous chapter, but it seemed a good place to end it.

The term 'Storm Child' and the group memories connected with it is based on the original legend of the Selkie, but adapted by me. The legend of the Surface Seals is, as far as I can tell, entirely my own, but if you've seen something similar else where I'd love to hear about it.

As requested, here is Jack – and I hope I haven't disappointed with his portrayal. Jack is stubborn and difficult to write, partly because I don't even know the words for half of what he does.

Rabid Lawn Gnome, Kakeru-chibi, Mr. Snuffles, angelkitty77, Child of Taboo, Evergreen Sceptre (in answer to your questions, yes, but you'll have to wait and see for how), Ie-maru (I can't imagine a non-pirate Jack. It doesn't compute. In fact, it flashes red lights at me and says: error, error, prepare for spontaneous combustion), SeulWolfe, cutelittlekitten18, The Plot Bunny Whisperer (I love your name!), Riley Rose Russel, MagicallyInclined, lildevil425, BAD HERO, ManeSpotter, Ocelot12, Anon, lilkit, parseltonge girl, writerlover101 (Harry might go back, but then again, he might not ::grins evilly::. It's set in the Curse of the Black Pearl, but will take into account information from At World's End. And about Harry's powers… that'll be answered during the story), lemmesee, this fish flies, and The Red Dragons Order.

To all of you lot, Thank you! You've made me go around grinning so much my mum hid the sugar. Hope you like the update!