And here is chapter 2. Now rewritten to include any AWE differences!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine. Anything you don't is.

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Harry followed Sparrow through the streets of Port Royal. It was early and there were few people on the streets. That wouldn't last long though. Dawn was approaching quickly and a multitude of people would turn out to see the infamous Jack Sparrow hanged.

Jack Sparrow had a very odd way of running. He seemed to sway from side to side, but that didn't hinder his speed. Harry was very fast himself, but he was having a hard time keeping up. They ran though the winding streets. Left, right, left. Then faster past a military building. Left, right, left again. A drunk stumbled out of a pub in front of them and collapsed on the ground. Sparrow jumped over him. Harry followed suit.

They dodged between houses, past horses and a carriage and round another corner. Sparrow stopped dead, and Harry promptly ran into him.

"Oof!"

Sparrow turned and ran down a side street. Harry glimpsed some people in red coats down the road and heard a distant, "After them!" before he turned and followed.

They spent half an hour running around Port Royal, dodging the Redcoats. Harry just followed Sparrow, which was proving to be a difficult job. They went up hills, down steps, through houses (probably scaring quite a few women) and running down partially-hidden alleyways. It seemed like forever to Harry, who had never run so far so fast in his short existence. Dudley could never have chased him this far. Unfortunately, all the Redcoats seemed to be in very good shape.

Eventually Sparrow turned a corner and ducked into a doorway, pulling Harry after him. They were hidden in shadow as the Redcoats ran past. Once the yells of "Catch the pirates!" had faded away, Jack silently exited and Harry followed.

They reached the edge of the town without major incident. There was no sign of any more Redcoats, and Harry was very grateful. After that it was a short hike through exotic-looking trees to a town that looked like it was about to fall down. In fact, several buildings already had.

Sparrow led Harry to a house that looked a little less likely to fall down than the rest. They went in and climbed several flights of stairs until they were at the top floor. Harry was exhausted by then and leant against the wall. He groaned when he realised that Sparrow was clambering up into the attic. Once he was up, he reached down a hand to pull Harry up too.

Soon afterwards, Harry and Jack had made themselves comfortable with blankets that had already been up there. The attic had been a lot less dusty than the rest of the house, so Harry suspected that this was a hideout Sparrow used regularly.

"So," asked Sparrow, "how did ye end up in the Caribbean again?"

"Er…" Began Harry, "I'm not all that sure. I was in bed, and I opened this book I'd found last night, and then there was a bang. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in that jail!"

"Okay…. And how did ye open the lock on the door?"

Harry then proceeded to tell Sparrow ("Call me Jack!") about magic. Harry wondered if he wasn't breaking all sorts of laws in doing this, but he did owe Jack an explanation. And anyway, it was apparently the 16th Century! Who knew if the laws even existed yet? To his credit, Jack didn't seem all that shocked. It was as if he'd seen many unusual things in this lifetime, and magic was just one more. After Harry was finished, there was an awkward silence. He picked up his book and started flicking through it.

After a few minutes, Jack broke the silence. "So… ye plannin' on goin' back?"

Harry looked up, bewildered. "Well, yeah. I need to. My friends will be worrying about me…where I am… and everything…"

Jack nodded. "Any idea how ta actually get back?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. None at all. This book might say how, but I can't understand it."

Harry held up the book. He knew that it was a spellbook, as it had a very nice, clear layout, and a few of the pages had pictures showing the intended effects of the spell, but as for the words, they were all in Latin. And unfortunately, Harry's experience with Latin was limited to the spells he already knew.

Jack took the book from him, and flicked through it. He didn't understand a word. Understandable, as his education was less than satisfactory.

"Well, I don't speak a word of Latin, and I read even less. Actually, the only person I know who might even speak it is in England right now, and I don't know when she'll be back. I can't ask anybody round 'ere, because I'll just be thrown back in jail, and who knows where you'll end up. Prob'ly in jail with me."

Jack looked hopelessly at Harry. Harry looked hopefully back.

Jack wondered what would happen if he took the kid with him. He was small and scrawny, but Jack liked him. He was a fighter, and tougher than he looked. But could he suddenly reappear with a kid? He'd need to pretend that Harry was his son or something…

Could Harry pass as his son?

Jack didn't even know why he was considering this. He'd just met the kid. The kid had just met him. Hell, he mightn't appreciate having a new father all of a sudden! Jack put the idea to the back of his mind. Maybe he'd suggest later, provided the kid was going to stay with him.

"Erm… well... Jack… could I- could I stay with you?" Well, that was handy.

Jack looked round sharply. Harry must have assumed that was a bad sign, because he started babbling.

"Well, you don't have to let me! Don't let me impose on you or anything, like. But I just thought that it'd be nice if I stayed with you, because I don't know anyone else, and I've nowhere to go, but I'm sure that if you really didn't want me to come with you, I could go, and I'll find someone to translate this book, and it'll tell me how to get home, because it has to, and-"

"Harry? Harry! Stop!"

Harry looked at Jack apologetically. "Sorry, I went on a bit, didn't I?"

"Yeah, a bit…!. Anyway, I wouldn't mind you staying. Really. I'm actually a bit lacking in the 'crew' department at the minute… So, looks like you can consider yourself to be my first mate."

Jack smiled. This would work out great, he just knew it….

Really, he did.

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Quirinus Quirrell stood before the Mirror of Erised, deep beneath the school. His Master had decided that they should act now, in the chaos of the wake of Potter's disappearance.

After all, who would notice when the precious Boy-Who-Lived was missing? They wouldn't even realise the stone was gone. It would be perfect. Once the Dark Lord rose again, few would stand in his way. Harry Potter, if he were here, would be only eleven. An eleven year old would not, could not defeat the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was weakened by worry and sleepless nights- he would not be able to defeat the Dark Lord in battle.

The Dark Lord would rule all, and he had promised Quirrell that he would be second-in-command. Quirrell's master was generous.

But he still didn't take mistakes easily. Quirrell knew he had disappointed his Master in the past, but he wouldn't do it again. He was a good servant now, he would not fail, would not disobey, would not disappoint…

Quirrell stared into the Mirror. He saw himself, distorted, wavy, giving the stone to his Master. He saw his Master rise again, with Quirrell by his side. Mirror-Quirrell stared out at him, blinking slowly, shimmering, telling.

Real-Quirrell reached out and touched the glass, but he still didn't have the stone. His master was going to be displeased, and Quirrell didn't want him to be displeased. The Dark Lord could say- and domany things, most of them very unpleasant.

Quirrell shook his head, feeling the turban weigh against his skull, felt it rub against the other features on his head. His Master was getting impatient, but Quirrell still didn't know how to get the stone.

Quirrell could feel his master's impatience building up inside his head, turning into anger. That anger would soon morph into rage and Quirrell began to feel afraid. He pressed both hands against the mirror, felt it wobble, and stared in. Mirror-Quirrell was still ruling beside Voldemort, but it was more distorted now. The image rippled and Real-Quirrell hoped, prayed, that the stone would just appear magically in his hands.

Voldemort was getting angrier. Quirrell could feel it building up inside his head, and he grasped the edges of the mirror, staring in. Quirrell wanted to give his master the stone. Mirror-Quirrell stared back out. He was holding a mirror-stone, whilst Mirror-Voldemort stood up and surveyed his- their- Utopia.

The room started shaking. So did the mirror. Voldemort was very angry. Quirrell could feel the floor tremble beneath his feet, and the mirror wobbled precariously. Quirrell reached out to grab it and hold it still, but at that moment the floor gave an exceptionally violent tremor and he fell. The mirror fell on top of him and he had just enough time to see his reflection gazing out at him before it shattered.

Quirrell knew that Voldemort knew that the stone was now gone forever. That was his last thought before everything went black.

When Albus Dumbledore rushed into the chamber mere minutes later, he found Quirrell dead on the floor, shards of glass scattered around the room, and no sign of Voldemort.

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And there is Chapter 2 finished. I thought I'd add that little bit at the end in to show what's happening in the present (or, for Harry, future). They'll appear every so often, but not every chapter, because I've always wanted time to flow differently in two different eras…….

I know this chapter seems very short, but I honestly don't know how it could be much longer. This seemed a good stopping point!