Chapter 2: Introducing the Leading Man

Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to PotC nor HP as they remain the properties of their respective owners. I do own the plot though and any additional characters I add. Also, the familiar dialogue is from the PotC films which belong to Disney and the director Gore Verbinski.

oOoOo

Hermione stirred in her sleep, lying motionless with her eyes still closed. She had been expecting the cold hard wooden planks of the pier, but they were not present. Replacing it was a soft mattress and a feather pillow. She wondered if everything that happened the night before had all been a nightmare. She opened her eyes, looking out of the far corner of her eyes. When the scarlet curtains hanging around her bed came into her line of sight, she began to believe it was a dream.

Hermione had the horrible feeling that someone was watching her. She reached under her pillow expecting to find her wand, but it was not there. She sat up in panic, picking the pillow up to look underneath. There was nothing but the white sheet staring back at her, and she frowned.

Her hand fell onto the duvet, finding it was not the same cotton material she knew. It was much softer, like velvet mixed with silk. Hermione shrugged, not willing to complain. She was just puzzled about why they were different and where they had come from.

The frown returned to her brow as she wondered who found her in the library and put her to bed in the ruined castle. Deciding to seek out Harry and ask him, she yawned. She reached for the curtain surrounding her bed, opening them to find the room draped in darkness. She examined the bedside table, seeing an oil lamp. She ogled at it for a moment wondering where her regular light was and why she had this one now. She eventually concluded that during the war a lot of things were destroyed. She assumed Dumbledore had given her this for the time being.

Hermione shrugged again, reaching forward and turned the knob to give her some light. She closed her eyes, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Slowly, Hermione put her feet on the ground anticipating it to be cold. She was stunned to discover there was a carpet instead of the stone ground. She moved her feet along the fluffy carpet in disbelief. She glanced down, seeing in the light of the oil lamp that it was a fluffy white carpet. She smiled; Dumbledore had talked about refurbishments. She hadn't realised how far the eccentric old man would go, and this looked to be what he had intended.

Then she noticed the garment she was wearing. It was a revealing nightgown leaving little to the imagination, particularly in the bodice. Hermione gasped, looking around for something to cover herself up with. She spotted a dressing gown hanging on the back of a chair in front of what she assumed was a vanity. She ran over and picked it up, wrapping it around her.

She stood in the dark room wondering who on earth dressed her in such ghastly garb. She concluded it had most likely been Harry, vowing to murder him when she got him in her immediate vicinity.

She managed to get a better look at the room, grasping this was not the girl's dormitories. The curtains were much too large to be covering the much smaller church-like windows of the tower. There was only one bed for another thing, and she wondered if Dumbledore had given them their own rooms. Maybe the Gryffindor Tower was in ruins making it an unwise decision to stay in there at present.

Then she questioned why Dumbledore hadn't sent them home. Then again, Harry was an orphan, and because Voldemort had murdered his aunt and uncle, he had nowhere to go. It was logical for him to stay at Hogwarts. Though he could have gone back to Grimmauld Place or stayed with the Weasleys'. Plus, she was now an orphan too meaning she had nowhere to go. It also explained why she was still at the castle, but she shook those thoughts away as tears sprang to her eyes.

Her thoughts turned to Ron, hoping that he was okay. She decided then that she would get dressed and visit him in St. Mungo's assuming he was already there.

Hermione took one more glance around the dark room, deciding it would be good to start by opening the curtains. She took a deep breath, opening them expecting to see the Hogwarts grounds. However, she was gazing out on a different vista altogether. The grounds outside the window were beautiful, the gardens full of flowers in bloom. The sun was shining high in the sky. Hermione froze when she made out the pier she had collapsed on the night before. Her heart skipped a beat, the writing in the ledger came back to her mind's eye like a harsh slap to the face. She had to grip the window to prevent herself from fainting again.

She had, somehow, ended up in the past.

Panicking, she turned to scan the room, seeing her clothes which were neatly folded up on a chair by the bed. She made her way over to them, stumbling over the bottom of the dressing gown. She searched the pockets of her robes for her wand, finally finding it to her relief. She almost hugged it to her believing it to be her only saving grace. All unease of how she had gotten to the past in the first place flying out the window.

She paused for a moment, squinting down at her gown, and muttered a spell to make the garment less exposing and far more presentable. She stowed her wand away in a pocket of her dressing gown feeling safer knowing it was there. She contemplated putting her clothes on and going to find someone to ask where she was but thought better of it. In this time her clothes were outlandish, and she realised she would need to dress in clothes of this era so she wouldn't seem out of place and draw attention to herself while she tried to find a way home.

Hermione walked to the door to open it when a gentle knock startled her. She stiffened, eyeing the door in fear. As she stood frozen to the spot, there was another louder knock. 'Can I come in?' came a male voice from the other side.

Hermione considered saying "no" for a moment but opted against it. 'Yes,' she replied instead.

A fatherly gentleman wearing bizarre, but smart clothes strode in and, to her astonishment, pulled her into a hug. He pulled back, holding her at arm's length to gaze at her face. 'It is wonderful to see you, though I did not anticipate you home until April. No matter,' he said smiling. He kissed her forehead, which had Hermione almost running in fear for her sanity.

Instead of running, she ogled at him in bewilderment. 'I'm sorry?' she asked.

The man frowned and tutted. 'Now, now, there's no time for your games this morning young lady,' he admonished gently. He gestured behind him for two maids to enter, one of which was carrying a plain white box. 'I purchased gifts for you and your sister. I was arranging to transport yours to the University, but it appears you were on the pier this morning, soaking wet and dressed in curious clothes,' he clarified. She gaped at him in incredulity. 'May I ask about what happened to find you in such a situation?' he probed.

Hermione stared at him, pondering if this man was lacking a few buttons. 'Um... what are you talking about? Who are you? I don't have a sister,' she disclosed, her voice trembling.

The man frowned, scrutinising her carefully. 'Hm, you must have struck your head harder than we believed. We will need to have that rechecked,' he advised, smiling at her cheerfully. 'We will worry more on that later though,' he stated, taking the large white box from the maid. He offered it to her. 'Well, here you are.'

Hermione, unable to fathom what on earth was going on, took the box from him if only to be polite. She walked over to place it on the bed. She gazed at it for a moment, as if it would leap up and attack her. She soon grasped that the man was becoming impatient, so she opened it to reveal a stunning emerald green dress within. She gasped at its beauty as she pulled it out, running her fingers across the luxurious material. 'It's lovely,' she said, taking in the elegant patterns and lace on the bodice and cuffs. She shook her head before folding it back up and placing it back into the box. 'I can't take this,' she whispered before turning back to him. 'I don't even know who you are. It would be rude of me to accept such a beautiful gown…' she trailed off, running her hand over the dress again.

The man's frown increased as he studied her. He came over to stand by her. 'I will have the doctor come in to check on you without delay. You appear to have completely lost your memory,' he said worriedly. He reached up, running his hand over a welt on the right side of her head. Hermione winced, only just realising it was there. He shook his head and smiled at her again. 'In any case, I see no reason why I shouldn't dote upon my daughters,' he conveyed to her. Hermione couldn't help but smile at that. He reminded her of her real father. When this thought crossed her mind, she found it hard to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. The knowledge that she would never see him, or her mother again came back to her. As the man turned to the maids, she blinked back the tears before he could see them. He motioned towards the dress. 'Help her into it,' he ordered them. They curtsied to him, pulling her behind a screen in the corner of the room, one of them picking up the dress on the way.

'Um… wait, I don't think-' Hermione stammered towards him, but it fell on deaf ears as he cut over her.

'As I mentioned to your sister, you could wear it to the ceremony that is taking place this morning up at the Fort.'

Hermione gasped as the maids tightened her corset. 'Huh?'

'I don't suppose you remember James Norrington?' he asked her reflectively.

Hermione frowned as the name seemed to ring a bell, but she shook her head to rid herself of that thought. 'Um… no,' she replied.

He snickered. 'I imagine you wouldn't even if your memory was intact. You were only ten when we made the crossing from England,' he explained. He sounded as if he were saying it more to himself rather than to her. 'Well, he is being promoted from Captain to Commodore today. If I can only surmise as true to gossip these days, I believe he is also going to propose to Elizabeth. Though, I only have my suspicions to go by,' he explained to her as she questioned who on earth Elizabeth was.

A short moment of silence followed as the maids tied the back of her dress, pulling at the ribbons. She clawed at her chest, struggling to breathe before he spoke again. 'How is it coming?' he asked as the maids tugged the ribbons at the top tightening the dress even more.

'I… can't…' she muttered, trying to take a deep breath.

'I've heard it's the latest fashion in London,' he answered with a smile, looking out the window.

'My chest…' she gasped.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting them, and the man called them in. 'Milord, you have a visitor,' the Butler informed him. He then left again, closing the door behind him.

The man sighed. 'I am sorry, Callista, but I must greet this new visitor. I will see you shortly,' he said to her, and confusion clouded her features again. She heard his footsteps retreat before the door opened and closed.

Did he just call me Callista. Is that what he called his daughter? Wonder why he chose that name for her, she thought. She mused on why he had seemed so convinced that she was his daughter.

As the maids finished, they curtsied at her before leaving the room themselves. Hermione was free to explore the chamber a little more. The first thing she did was retrieve her wand from the dressing gown. She pointed it at herself to make the dress feel as though it wasn't suffocating her, and she took a deep breath in relief, stowing her wand up the sleeve of her dress and then began inspecting the room.

As she walked over to the box on the bed, she noticed that at the bottom were a pair of green heels the same colour as her dress. She smiled before taking them out and slipping into them. For a moment she tried to get her balance, having only worn heels a few times. She then wandered around the beautiful room getting a proper look at it.

She walked over to the vanity, picking up the bottles of perfume and powders adorning the front. She peered in the mirror at her reflection, her honey brown eyes staring back at her. She stepped back to look at herself in full. She frowned at her bushy hair with disapproval as it seemed to be out of place while wearing such a stunning gown. She pulled out her wand, pointing it to her hair. She used a spell to tidy up her hair, leaving her with neat curls reaching the small of her back. She smiled before moving on to search the rest of the room.

Her eyes found a beautiful walnut finished bureau, where there were some pictures. Hermione, curious and unable to stop herself, walked over to examine them with curiosity. Her fascination piqued as she picked up one that showed two girls. One of the girls was older than the other. What was staggering to Hermione was the younger of the two was the image of her. It dawned on her now why the man believed her to be his daughter. He must have genuinely believed she had amnesia, which was now far more understandable to her. She eyed the older girl, assuming this was the Elizabeth he had mentioned. From the resemblance between the two girls, it was evident they were sisters. Hermione placed the picture back on the bureau.

Hermione wondered how long everyone would think that she was the daughter of a man she had never met before. She ran a hand through her curls, deliberating on whether going along with the idea that they thought she was Callista and had amnesia would make things easier for her or not. Hermione wasn't enthusiastic about this plan at all. She didn't want to keep up a lie like that. However, she knew that trying to explain she was a witch from the future and using magic in this time would probably earn her a one-way ticket to being burned at the stake. She would need to be discreet and careful if she found herself needing to use magic. She groaned in frustration as she realised this may be more difficult than she thought.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. She bid the person entry with reluctance and in walked the older girl from the picture. Hermione realised that the picture had done the woman no justice. The woman smiled at her, drawing her into a gentle hug which Hermione returned, but it felt awkward. 'How I have missed you, Calli!'

Calli? Hermione thought, that's a lot nicer than being called Callista, she mused.

Elizabeth pulled back, holding her at arm's length as she asked, 'What happened to you? Father said soldiers found you fainted on the pier this morning.' She ran a gentle hand down Hermione's hair.

Hermione averted her eyes, wondering what to say. 'I don't know, to be honest. I don't remember anything,' she murmured in half-truth. She looked back up at the woman who was a bit taller than her. 'I don't even know who you are,' she added, looking at the stunned woman in front of her.

Elizabeth or that is who she assumed this woman was, sighed, looking down at her. She pulled her into another hug, which Hermione didn't return. She wasn't accustomed to so much affection, not even from Harry or Ron. 'Father mentioned you had a fall, and your memory is affected,' she told her, pulling away. Tears were brimming in her eyes. She blinked them away and smiled at her. 'I am sure it will come back to you soon,' she voiced to her as if she was trying to convince herself of this. She held out her arm as Hermione looked from her arm to her in uncertainty. 'Will you come with me down the stairs to meet father?' she invited. Hermione smiled, taking her arm, and feeling that she was going to like Elizabeth. They walked out of the room arm in arm, taking their time with the stairs so as not to trip over their dresses.

Down on the ground floor, they heard a discussion of some sort between two male voices. Elizabeth's father and another younger, handsome man gazed up at them as they approached. 'Oh, Elizabeth, Callista! You both look absolutely stunning!' Elizabeth's father stated.

They were focusing on making it down each step without falling towards them, and Hermione glanced across at Elizabeth to see her eyes widen with delight. 'Will!' she cried cheerfully, letting go of Hermione's arm. She made her way down the stairs at a hurried pace, leaving Hermione to follow at a more sedated pace. Elizabeth reached the ground floor, giving Will a quick hug. 'It's so good to see you!' she said, pulling back and grinning at him. Hermione looked down, trying to concentrate on making her way down the stairs. For some reason, she could not keep her eyes off Will. Hermione noticed Will appeared to be having trouble breathing as he gazed at Elizabeth. Elizabeth's smiled widened if that was possible. 'I had a dream about you last night,' she declared to him. Hermione paused about four steps up from the ground floor making a show of sorting her dress. She felt awkward joining a conversation with three people she knew nothing about. Even if they did believe she was someone they knew.

'About me?' she heard Will ask in surprise.

Elizabeth's father seemed more uncomfortable with the direction this exchange was going in and shifted his feet. 'Yes, well, is that entirely proper for you to…' he started to question her.

Elizabeth ignored him, her attention completely on Will. 'About the day we met, do you remember?' she questioned him, the smile still present and her eyes shining.

'How could I forget, Miss Swann?' he replied, his tone respectful. He gave her small smile, bowing his head.

She glanced down for a moment before looking back at him. 'Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?' she enquired of him with the smile still alight on her face.

Hermione frowned, wondering if they had forgotten she was even there. It appeared to her that Will hadn't even seemed to notice she was there at all which she felt was rude. She shook that thought away, not knowing why she even cared. It wasn't like she was Callista and didn't think it her place to say anything on the matter. Even so, she couldn't help the small smile that reached her lips as he answered Elizabeth.

'At least once more, Miss Swann. As always,' he told her with a diminutive smile. Hermione glanced at Elizabeth to see her reaction to this answer. The broad smile she was wearing a moment ago had withered at his words. She looked away to the ground feeling uncomfortable.

Hermione peered up again to see the elder man smile at her and then at Elizabeth. 'There. See? At least the boy has a sense of propriety,' he acknowledged with a smile. He glanced at her and Hermione. 'Now, we really must be going,' he said, leaning down to pick up two parasols. He handed one to Elizabeth and the other one to Hermione who had stepped down two steps to reach it.

This action seemed to cause Will to look up from his musings, finally noticing her. Hermione knew from his reaction that he didn't see her before. He was staring at her now, his mouth agape. For a moment, she felt embarrassed at the attention, her cheeks reddening.

Elizabeth eyed them for a moment before looking back at Will. 'Good day, Mr Turner,' Elizabeth said rather bitterly.

Will looked back at her as she gathered her skirts, marching past him, and his eyes widened. 'Good day, Miss Swann,' he called to her, not receiving any inclination that she heard him. He sighed before turning back to Hermione who was descending the remaining few steps. 'I was unaware you were back so soon from university, Miss Swann. You were not expected until April, but it is wonderful to have you back nonetheless,' he welcomed her, inclining his head at her a little. 'I had heard a rather curious rumour that you have amnesia,' he added, frowning at her a little in concern.

Hermione smiled a little. 'I don't know what happened. I can't recall anything, to be honest,' she replied. She shook her head, her smile dropping from her face. She looked back up at him. 'Can you call me Calli, please? That Miss Swann title is sure to get me mixed up with Elizabeth,' she bade with a smile.

Will grinned slightly. 'Of course, Calli,' he said. Her eyes widened at how easy it had been for her to get him to call her by that name and not a title. She tuned back into him as he continued, 'It was a pleasure to see you again. I pray your memory returns to you,' he smiled at her, lifting her hand to his lips, and placing a kiss upon her knuckles.

Hermione blushed at this but smiled at him. 'It was lovely to see you, Mr Turner. Good day,' she responded before following Elizabeth and her 'father' out of the Manor. She stood by a horse drawn carriage, waiting for Governor Swann and Elizabeth to get in. She glanced back at the Manor to see Will standing at the door staring straight at her. She smiled, giving him a little wave before getting into the carriage, and watched him from out the window as it pulled away.

Will watched them go, his mind on Callista. She had looked far more beautiful than he remembered, and he sighed, a small smile playing about his lips. 'Calli…' he whispered to himself before walking down the pebbled path towards the town.

In the carriage, Hermione sighed as she sat back against the cushy seats. She glanced over at Elizabeth who was staring out the window, her expression stony. Governor Swann coughed a little to gain her attention. 'Father?' she asked, raising her eyebrows.

He glowered at her. 'Dear, I do hope you demonstrate a bit more decorum in front of Commodore Norrington. After all, it is only through his efforts that Port Royal has become at all civilised,' he told her sternly.

She looked away from him, glaring at the floor. Hermione shifted in her seat, uneasy with the level of tension within the carriage. She chose to focus on what was outside the window instead, taking in the town as they rode through it.

oOoOo

Out on the sea, the top of a billowing sail came into view from behind the rocky outcrop near to the promontory. On the landward face of the sail, high rigging was a man for whom the term "swashbuckling rogue" is coined. The braids in his hair were adorned with all manner of different coloured beads, and a red bandana held them in place beneath his dark grey hat. Around his dark brown eyes, making them appear even darker, was black charcoal, and he had tanned skin from his adventures on the high seas. His goatee beard had braids with the same beads used in his hair, and to finish it off he had a moustache. The persona of this man right down to the clothes he was wearing all seemed to scream pirate.

Looking down, his facial expression changed to a frown of concern. He jumped from the rigging onto the body of the boat which was just a small fishing dory with a single sail. It was ploughing through the water, and he walked to the opposite side, picking up a bucket. Written in bold lettering on the side of the boat were the words: The Jolly Roger. The boat itself was leaking profusely, and he moved back to the side he had landed on. He proceeded to fill the bucket with the water, chucking it over the side back into the ocean.

As he threw another full bucket back into the sea, something caught his eye. He stood up dropping the bucket as he moved to stand at the side of the boat. The skeletal remains of three pirates, clad in buccaneer rags, hung from nooses on gallows erected on a rocky promontory. A fourth unoccupied loop bore a sign: "PIRATES YE BE WARNED". The man gazed at it keen-eyed before taking off his hat, placing it on his chest to pay homage, and gave them a two-fingered salute in respect.

The man placed his hat back on his head, looking down to see the boat filling up faster. He made his way back over to the tiller and, using a single sheet to control the sail, brought the boat around the promontory. The whole of Port Royal laid out before him. When the water reached his knees, he decided that there was no point in trying to salvage the sinking boat. He climbed back up onto the mast, and from his vantage point, he spotted the massive British Dreadnought dominating the bay. His attention was curiously diverted towards a different ship. A small, sleek vessel tied up at the Navy landing at the base of the cliffs below the Fort.

He grinned as he looked down, the base of the boat was now fully under the water. It was slowly creeping up the mast, but he wasn't worried. As he predicted, the water reached to about a metre from where he was standing on the mast. It pulled into the pier just as the bottom of the boat touched the floor of the ocean. It made stepping off the mast onto the dock at a convenient height, so he had no hassle in doing so.

The Harbour Master came to help him tie up the dory. 'If you're rolling scuppers in this tub, you're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,' he said, chuckling.

The man smirked. 'It's remarkable how often those two traits coincide,' he answered. He turned away from the Harbour Master, making his way up the dock. He strapped on his sword belt as he went. Besides the scabbard, it also carried a compass, pistol, and a small powder horn.

The Harbour Master thwarted his proud swagger, giving him a stern glare. 'Hey, hold up there, you,' he said. He turned back to him, wondering what on earth he could want now. 'It's a shilling to tie up your boat at the dock,' he enlightened him. The man looked back at him with raised eyebrows before looking back at the sunken vessel. The mast was peeking out from the water, and he turned back to the Harbour Master. 'And I will need to know your name,' he added, picking up the ledger from the podium, opening it to that day's date.

The man took a moment to contemplate on what he was going to do before rolling his eyes. He reached into his pocket, pulling out some coins. 'What do ye say to three shillings... and we forget the name?' He proposed, placing three shillings onto the ledger the Harbour Master was holding. The little boy next to him, raised his eyebrows at the man, impressed by his audacity.

The Harbour Master looked at him in surprise, considering the proposal by the man. He closed the ledger on the coins. 'Welcome to Port Royal, Mr Smith,' he greeted, stepping aside with a small smile to the man.

The man "Smith" smiled, giving him a half-salute as he passed them. He reached the podium, a feathered quill sitting in an inkwell. There was a space where the ledger would be had the Harbour Master not carried it down to the end of the pier. What caught "Smith's" attention though, was what was just next to the inkwell. There was a small brown leather pouch, and he picked it up, shaking it and revealing clinking sounds of coins within. He pocketed it before moving on. He looked around, and the vessel which had caught his keen eyes before came back into his line of view, and he grinned.