A/N: Hey guys! Hope you like the chapter :)
Chapter 1: New World
'Well now,' Harry thought to himself. 'This is rather clichéd, isn't it?'
As soon as the medallion activated, Harry found himself flying through a tunnel of spiraling lights, not unlike how science fictions movies in the Muggle world depicted wormholes.
'Then again,' Harry admitted to himself, 'this whole going to another world for a second chance is a pretty clichéd event too so it's only right that the trip there match appropriately.'
Magic drained steadily through the dimension traveler's necklace as he enjoyed the surreal view, the minutes ticking by, when suddenly, just as he was reaching the literal light at the end of the tunnel, a green ball of fire rocketed towards him. Instinctively, Harry forced the perceived threat away, resulting in a brief but tense struggle until the metal piece resting over the wizard's collarbone – open to outside power while conducting Harry's magic – forcibly absorbed it. The dimension tunnel collapsed and Harry Potter landed in the waiting arms of a purple tree.
Muttering a few choice curses under his breath in varying languages, Harry dropped out of the tree and took a look around.
While the forest looked like it was conjured by Albus Dumbledore in the throes of a psychedelic dream with its vibrant colors and twisting shapes, the village in the distance seemed normal enough. It was a small port town, looking reminiscent of a scene he once glimpsed on the television while vacuuming. Dudley was watching a pirate series and later complained to Vernon that he had trouble hearing the cannon-fire between ships over the sound of the vacuum. Vernon was not pleased with Harry.
But the current situation was fine with Harry. The British Wizarding World wasn't exactly living in the modern times either, so this shouldn't be too difficult to get used to.
A wave of magical fatigue crashed upon the wizard and he grimaced. The strange green fire seemed contained within his necklace and there were no other issues requiring his immediate attention, so Harry pushed himself onwards into the village. He'd rent a room at the local inn and pay with some conjured cash later. In the morning, when his magic recovers, he'd be able to do much more in the way of learning and exploring this new world.
Harry woke before dawn the next day, dressed with a quick spell, and frowned at how weak it made him feel as he exited the room. Last night's quick translation charm with a bit of personal charm directed towards the land lady was tiring, but that was to be expected after being drained to power inter-dimensional travel. He was shown to a room less than ten minutes after his introduction as a wandering adventurer and was too grateful to ponder the issue further.
Now it seemed that magic came significantly less easy to him in this new world, and the recharge period was also extended if the ghostly ache in his muscles was any indication. He hoped he'd be able to adapt to this handicap in time for future altercations. For now, small spells shouldn't be too much of a problem.
Gliding down the stairs and out the inn, Harry breathed in a refreshing lungful of morning air. Glancing around at the quiet streets, he watched a few of the shopkeepers – the baker, butcher, and grocery store owner – set up shop. Smiling pleasantly, he smoothly moved towards the baker across the street.
"Good morning," Harry called out cheerily.
The baker looked up from the small stand he was filling with fresh loaves of bread with a slightly surprised expression.
"Good morning to you too," the man replied. "You're up quite early. I don't believe we've met before; are you new in town?"
"Yes," Harry confirmed, "I'm taking some time to explore the world a bit while I still can." He leaned over under the pretense of examining the baked goods. "It smells good. What have you got?"
"Oh, I mostly just display the bread loaves outside this time of year to attract the sailing merchants looking for something to take with them on their journey."
"Sound policy," Harry agreed. "Have you been in this business long?"
"Oh, it runs in the family," the baker explained, "most shops in our village do."
As the man explained the history of his town, eventually moving on to local gossip, Harry listened intently while slipping a hand over the baker's pocket and summoning the man's wallet. A silent duplicating charm later, Harry banished the wallet back into the baker's pocket and slipped the duplicate into his own.
"Well, it was good talking to you," Harry stated in a clear attempt to end the conversation. "I think I'll stop by later to buy something for breakfast."
"I'll look forward to it," the baker smiled in return. "Please enjoy your time in our town."
"Oh I will – it's a very charming place."
Walking away with a polite wave farewell, Harry examined the contents of his pick-pocketed prize, making sure to use a color-changing charm to disguise the wallet. Inside were bills marked with varying numbers and the word "beli". Assuming that was the currency around here, either the baker was very rich – highly doubtful – or the beli to galleon exchange rate was very low.
"Good morning," Harry called out to the butcher who was hanging up racks of meat inside the display window.
The butcher grunted back at him.
Not a very social person then. While sometimes it was advantageous to make friends with the loners, he didn't plan on staying in this town very long so Harry moved on.
The grocer was a middle-aged woman, stacking apples and pears in pyramids. A slight push with a conjured gust of wind and a few apples toppled off, rolling to a stop at Harry's feet.
"Oh!" the grocer cried in surprise, turning around to follow the fleeing produce.
Harry bent down and plucked the three errant apples, presenting them to the grocer with a warm grin. "Here you are, ma'am."
"Thank you, young man," the grocer smiled, retrieving the apples and wiped them off with her apron before placing them back onto the pyramid. "I don't believe I've ever met you before?"
"Ah, yes, I'm just a visitor traveling around for some fun."
"How wonderful," the grocer exclaimed, "the delights of youth! I remember when my husband took me out for sailing trips during our dating months. Such pleasant memories," she sighed, before grimacing. "Well, almost all pleasant."
"Did something happen?" Harry asked with a concerned tone of voice.
"Oh, I don't want to bother you with the stories of an old woman, especially so early in the morning, really," the woman explained in an embarrassed rush, puttering around the shop, absently picking at the displays to look somewhat busy.
"I don't mind, ma'am. Nothing quite like a story told in a pretty voice to start the day."
The woman blushed. "Now see here, young man, flattery won't get you everything."
"Will it get me a story?" Harry teased with a smile.
The grocer sighed, folding her hands in front of her on her waist, resting in the folds of her dress. "Why not? It's not much of a story, really. It's just, once, while we were sailing, Jacob, my husband, was feeling a little daring that day and we went out farther than usual. On our way back, three rowboats of a local pirate crew cornered us and stripped us of all our possessions but the bare necessities of clothing. It was terrifying and incredibly embarrassing when we managed to make it home. To be honest, we were lucky to survive."
"Indeed," Harry agreed, "thank goodness for that."
"Yes, well, if I didn't already dislike pirates, that incident certainly settled it. That's why it's been so disturbing these past few days."
"What do you mean?" Harry inquired.
"Oh? You don't know?" the woman asked. "Five days ago, a crew of pirates docked at our port. They're very famous – supposedly they're not the type to attack civilians, but it's still very worrying. I'm anxious everyday for the night they'll up and leave while robbing us all. I've heard terrible stories of outlaws burning down whole towns after pillaging them simply for the fun of it. Frankly, I'm quite grateful they'll be leaving today."
Harry gave an honest frown at that. He'd seen some pretty terrible things in his life, the past three years especially, and he had to agree that burning homes and screaming children were very unpleasant sights.
"Famous for being peaceful pirates, you say?"
"Oh no, not peaceful, no," the grocer clarified, "I don't think any pirates are peaceful. You'd have to be somewhat willing to get violent to defy the World Government and claim a Jolly Roger flag. These pirates, though, claim to only fight those who pick a fight first, which would usually be other pirates and the marines."
"Huh, that's unusual. Nice of them, but unusual. Who are they?"
"They call themselves the Red-Hair pirates because their Captain, the pirate Shanks, has uniquely vibrant red hair."
Harry grinned at this. He highly doubted anyone's red hair could make an impression on him anymore when compared to his mother's or the Weasleys'.
"Well, thanks so much for the chat, ma'am, but I think I'd best leave you to your work now."
"Oh, of course, listen to me, nattering on. Please do drop by later. My produce is always fresh, and a healthy young man like yourself could benefit from some to supplement whatever it is they serve at that inn you're staying at. Don't get me wrong, I like the inn keeper very much, but she just doesn't have the time to cook anything fancy, you understand?"
"I'll keep that in mind, ma'am," Harry promised. "I'll see you later."
A crew of pirates that left civilians alone? What a fascinating idea! He'd have to confirm it, of course – it'd be naïve to just trust rumors, but otherwise that sounded like the perfect place to search for his first adventure. He sauntered down the dirt road towards the dock and took a good look at the ships. There, just peeking out from behind a rock formation, Harry saw a tall mast with a fluttering black flag. So there was the ship. As for the crew…
Harry raised his nose and took a long sniff. The scent of alcohol floated on the salty wafts of sea air. The tavern would surely be the best place to search for a crew of sailors, especially if they were pirates.
Walking into the building, Harry picked his way across the floor littered with sloshed pirates towards the bar where a single man wearing a straw hat and a coat hanging from his shoulders was still conscious enough to continue drinking, spitting out random verses to old sea-shanties between gulps and hiccups. It was rather amusing. Almost cute.
"Bartender," Harry asked, "how much for a glass?"
"150 Beli a pint, good sir."
"Two glasses then," Harry ordered, eyeing his neighbor's now empty glass as he dug out 300 Beli from his new wallet and smacked it down onto the counter. "One for us both, please."
When the glass tankards were delivered, Harry pushed one over to the man in the straw hat, under which he could now see some red hair of decent length. Perfect.
"Well now," the man exclaimed over Harry's offer, "that's awful nice of ya! A toast then!"
The two clinked their glasses and took a long gulp of their drinks.
"I'm Shanks," the drunk pirate introduced himself, surprisingly still coherent, "captain of this here sissy crew that can't even hold their liquor proper!"
"Harry," the wizard replied, "and I assure you, I can hold my liquor just fine. Have to say though, I don't normally start my day with a pint."
"Start?" Shanks blinked confusedly. "Heee, it's dawn already?"
Harry chuckled. "I'm afraid so. Should I take that to mean you've been up all night and that my drinking partner's likely to pass out soon?"
"Probably, probably. Not to worry, my first mate'll keep you company when it happens."
"He's not lying on the floor like the rest, is he?"
"Naw," Shanks downed the rest of his beer. "Beckman's the 'sponsible one – don't drink much. He'll be coming in any minute now to kick the men out of the building. Just nipped out for a fresh pack of cigs."
As predicted, the bar door opened shortly after to reveal a tall man with long black hair chewing on a cigarette. Harry turned back to ask the pirate captain if this was indeed his first mate only to see the man, once again as predicted, passed out, his head on the counter, a small puddle of drool already forming beneath his cheek.
Harry chuckled and nodded at the man coming in. "Good morning. Beckman, is it?"
"Morning. I am indeed," Beckman replied around his cigarette, raising his long rifle to the more prominent position of resting on a shoulder.
Harry smiled at this subtle threat. "I'm Harry. You're captain is a very entertaining drunk."
The pirate chuckled. "And unfortunately very cranky during the inevitable hangovers."
"I don't envy him for the one he's bound to have after a night like last's if the condition of his crew is any indication," Harry offered, eyeing the men that Beckman was starting to rouse, nudging a few of the ones on the floor with a foot and smacking a couple who managed to stay in chairs with his rifle. The room was soon filled with the moans and groans of pirates who didn't appreciate being awake at such an early hour with pounding headaches.
Harry finished his beer and placed the glass back onto the counter with a small tip before rising from the stool and heading out.
"Give your captain my greetings."
He had seen the crew and captain – who was a promisingly friendly drunk. Now it was time to check out the ship up close. Possessions could reveal a lot about a group's activities.
A/N: Yeah, I know, it's kinda familiar to my readers of Pirate Potter, but I couldn't help it, drunk Shanks is just too fun :)
Artemis: Thanks for the review! As for the name, yay! Cindy is short for my name too, except no one calls me that except my high school Statistics teacher and my Chinese relatives. I hope you liked the chapter :)
And yes, Pommyth, and fully agree that there needs to be more of this fandom. Pity I haven't the time to flood the place myself.
Thanks once more to my awesome beta, Indifferent Nobody!
12 reviews today, July 2, 2011. Happy Independence Day soon!