A/N: Welcome back :)
Chapter 2: Joining a Crew
The ship was beautiful from above. Unfortunately, Harry magic hadn't recovered enough for him to fly any decent length of time so he floated down and landed gently on the deck. Honestly, it was a bit frustrating not to properly enjoy the view and he regretted not having a broom, having rather foolishly not anticipated being too drained to fly without one. He figured, though, that it wouldn't be too bad to just sit in the lookout crow's-nest later. For now, he'd look around at the weaponry, treasure stash, and map room. If the crew never went anywhere interesting, there'd be no point in tagging along!
He hoped that wasn't the case. Before flying over, he had doubled back to the inn, buying some apples and a loaf of bread with his magically counterfeited money and paid the bill for his room in anticipation of leaving with the pirate crew today.
The cannons were easy enough to find. As expected, several were lined up and tied down next to the port holes down below. Locked doors were bypassed with a few simple Alohamoras, revealing storage areas for food, water, and an almost disappointingly compact stash of treasure that was, amusingly, packed together with barrels and bottles of alcohol of all kinds.
To find the map room, the wizard had to unlock the doors on deck, revealing objects that confused and intrigued him in equal measures. It was no doubt the navigation center as the wall held a large and crude map of the world, which he studied –such a strange geography – and a desk where fountain pens, protractors, and a few astronomy books were scattered. What confused him was what filled the upper half of the bookshelves.
Seven shelves, labeled "Route 1, Route 2, etc…", were filled with a strange object Harry didn't recognize. Small glass orbs held in stands similar to hourglasses with compass arrows suspended inside the balls.
The labels across the top of the stands helped a bit – "Alabasta, Boin Archipelago, Yukiryu Island," he read the labels aloud to himself in between bites of apple. Each of the strange objects apparently was a compass directed at a certain location, though Harry had no idea how something like that was possible; especially since the arrows were currently all spinning around at varying speeds, refusing to point anywhere for long.
Harry moved down to look at the books and scrolls on the lower shelves instead. He flipped through a few books of myths and tall tales before as well as peaking at a few hand-drawn maps of the strangest looking islands (Cactus Island was a series of circles within circles that Harry saw from a side-view sketch represented bumps like those that grow out of the heads of cartoon characters) before managing to deduce that all the compasses were for locations in a single ocean, known as the Grand Line, which circled the globe like the equator back home.
At this point, Harry heard an increase in waves splashing against the ship, followed by a series of thuds from incoming rowboats and the rowdy voices of pirates. The wizard quickly placed the literature back on the shelves and apparated himself to the crow's nest, grimacing at the noticeable pull the action had on his magical core. He'd likely end up exhausting himself by the end of the day with his plans to awe the pirate crew into letting him tag along.
Unless he stayed hidden until after departure? Harry cracked a disillusionment charm over his head, confident that with the vast blue sky as a background, he'd be invisible. There was something thrilling about the idea of being a stowaway.
The choice was taken from Harry when the pirate captain's eyes, bloodshot but otherwise clear from signs of alcohol consumption and drowsiness expected in one who drank the last night away, rose to gaze at Harry in confusion and anger.
"What do you think you're doing on my ship?"
Harry was startled, though he took care not to let it show. How had the man known he was there? A hand came up to the medallion around his neck as he thought back to what Yuuko told him about the powers in this world. The Color of Observation, which allowed a person to sense the presence of others. Did this pirate possess that power?
Harry dropped the charm and swung his feet over the railing of the crow's nest to sit upon it, his legs dangling like a child and a friendly grin on his face contrasting with his black clothes billowing darkly in the breeze. A difficult to interpret image was very useful in delaying violent action from potential enemies.
"I'm looking for an adventure," Harry replied, cocking his head to the side like a questioning puppy. He finished his apple and vanished the core with fake sleight of hand before suddenly and silently apparating half a foot behind Shanks, wrapping his arms around the pirate captain's shoulders and leaning his face in against the man's ear. "Perhaps you could point me in the right direction?"
Immediately, half a dozen pistols were cocked and pointed at his head and another dozen blades were drawn from the sheaths of tense pirates in the embraced captain's crew. None, however, made any movement to draw nearer. Some, no doubt, worried that the strange man's close proximity with their captain made any potential attacks too dangerous. Others, it seemed, were content to watch their captain deal with the upstart and were merely prepared as a show of strength.
Harry approved. He was quite curious as to how this strangely friendly man could survive so long as a pirate sailing to so many different places, all the while maintaining a peaceful reputation among the civilians and, Harry eyed the wanted poster nailed into the mast of the ship, earning such a ridiculous bounty issued by the World Government.
He wondered briefly if this meant this entire world was united under a single government system when he was brought back to reality by the shaking of shoulders within his arms.
"Dahahahaha!" the man laughed, easily breaking free from Harry's loosened hold to turn and look at the mildly bemused wizard with a grin and cheerful eyes. "An adventure, eh? I suppose I owe you for the drink, yeah? You tag along with us long enough and you'll have an adventure beyond anything you can imagine before the month is out."
Harry gazed up the scant inch between their eyes at the face, tracing the laugh lines and open expression. The man was quite handsome in a wild, rugged fashion, without excessive muscles and a carefree outlook on life. Also…
Harry traced his fingers down the man's arms, licking his lips unconsciously when he felt muscles that within seconds became infused with a strange power which first hardened the flesh before thickening to the point where his fingers were forcibly pushed a full centimeter away from the skin. Color of Armaments. This man was also powerful and dangerous.
"I'd like that," Harry agreed.
"Wonderful!" Shanks exclaimed, clapping an arm around the shorter man's shoulders to look back at his crew who were still standing at various degrees of readiness to attack. "Let's give, uh," he furrowed his eyes and tilted his eyes to look back at Harry sheepishly. "I say, what's your name again, kid?"
Harry chuckled. "Call me Harry."
"Let's give Harry an adventure he'll never forget!"
The crew roared with approval, many of them drawing near to thump enthusiastically on Harry's back before continuing the loading of goods onto the ship.
Harry fingered the talisman resting on his collarbone as he accepted the pirates' welcome good-naturedly.
'Man-Who-Conquered…There'll be plenty to conquer,' whispered Yuuko's voice.
Harry licked his lips again, this time with anticipation and he glanced back at Shanks, Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates, and carrier of a half-billion Beli bounty.
'I think,' Harry thought to himself, 'I've decided on my first conquest.'
"I hope you don't mind sleeping with the crew," Shanks said, showing Harry the sleeping quarters where hammocks hung from posts arranged like bunk beds at a military camp. Harry could only assume that hammocks were safer to use when on a rocking ship. "They can snore quite a bit, but you'll get used to it eventually."
"Not a problem," Harry reassured him, "I used to attend a boarding school, and I can assure you my roommates were heavy sleepers and loud snorers."
"A boarding school?" Shanks enquired. "Really? What was that like? We don't have any academics on board this ship, though Beckman's a genius – self-taught himself loads."
"I'm not an academic in the traditional sense," Harry tried to explain, a bit unsure how to address the issue of his rather unconventional education in something that didn't exist in this world. "We didn't learn maths, or any science except astronomy. We wrote essays and read books in a different language than the one you use and I never pursued higher learning after dropping out before my last year."
"A different language?" Shanks asked, leading the way to the kitchens as the conversation continued. "That's incredibly rare. You say all of you used this other language? What island did you live in? I've probably only encountered two or three islands isolated enough that they spoke a different language from the rest of the world."
Harry mentally narrowed his eyes. The pirate was not completely successful in asking his questions with the proper degree of flippancy. He didn't seem aggressive or fearful, merely excited, but anticipatory in a way that suggested one of the few other languages he'd encountered before was significant to him in a way beyond just being a rarity.
"Well," Harry answered, "we used a language called English. Have you ever heard of it?" he asked, bypassing the question on his origins.
"'Fraid not," Shanks replied, "though I'm sure my first mate will be interested. Beckman is pretty quick at picking up new languages – he's almost always our translator those few times we needed one to communicate."
"Alright," Harry agreed, "I'll bring it up with him."
'I wonder,' Harry thought, 'if I should try to teach him Parseltongue as well.'
Harry held in his snickers at the image his idea conjured – a tall, serious pirate blowing spittle between his teeth as he tried to imitate Harry's sibilant hissing.
"Ah, we're here." Shanks pushed open a door and the two walked into the kitchen where a muscular bald man was seated before a large barrel, peeling potatoes. "This is George, our chef."
George glanced up and grunted, never stopping his potato peeling.
"Lighten up, George," Shanks grinned.
"Of course, Captain," came the bland reply.
Shanks just laughed and gestured towards Harry to follow him back out.
Outside the kitchen, Shanks knocked on the next door over. A faint "come in" floated out of the door before Shanks pushed his way in. A thin but stern person was sitting inside by a desk, lifting weights in one hand as he sifted through a bag of mixed herbs with the other. Looking around the corner, Harry could see a few beds laid out deeper into the room.
"This is our doctor, Freddy. He'll take care of diseases and any injuries from fights with marines and other pirates."
Harry nodded, inwardly wondering if he should infer anything from the fact that the infirmary was next door to the kitchens.
Freddy stared at Harry, shifting slightly so his revolver was visible from the inside pocket of his vest. "Should I give him a check-up, Captain?"
"Nah," Shanks shook his head, "he looks fine. 'Sides, Beckman always gets first dibs on the rookies."
"Beckman hasn't seen him yet? Then by all means, go on."
"Will do, Doc Freddy," Shanks nodded, laughing at his subordinate's wrinkled expression of disapproval over the name.
"Now to find Beckman," Shanks said, scanning the deck, "there! Oy! Beckman, come talk with the new guy!"
Beckman turned, a cigarette still prominent between his teeth, leaning against his large rifle.
"Captain, does this mean you'll direct the crew through the anchor raising?"
"Aw, come on Beckman, they know what they're doing!"
"It's just as well," Beckman sighed. "Come on then, Harry," Beckman greeted, "we'll have you situated in no time. What has the Captain told you so far?"
"He showed me the sleeping quarters, the kitchen, and the infirmary," Harry listed, ticking them off his fingers, "and said you'd be interested to know that I speak another language."
Beckman raised an eyebrow – to Harry's never-ending jealousy as he could only ever raise both – and chuckled. "Surprisingly thorough, for our Captain. Let's do it all again, though, so I can fill in some in some details and maybe you could explain a bit what you mean by another language."
Harry acquiesced and the two passed the day smoothly as Beckman assigned a specific hammock for Harry, explained the meal times and how serving worked, and gave an overview of how a ship worked.
In return, Harry impressed Beckman with the sophistication of the English language, complete with a written form and historical textbooks.
"So you can both speak and write this English language?"
"Yes, it that so surprising?"
Beckman shrugged. "Other than the language we're using now, I've yet to encounter another language that evolved to having a complete written form except an especially ancient one that has already died out. How old is English?"
"Er, I'm not sure," Harry replied, "several centuries I believe."
"Would you mind teaching a bit of it to me? Languages are a bit of a hobby of mine."
"Sure, er," Harry reached into his larger pocket and summoned his copy of the Beedle Bard tales from the horcrux hunt, careful to slide it out so that it appeared like a simple book kept in a relatively large pocket and not one of dozens floating in the bottomless space within the mouth of his enchanted pouch. "Here, it's a fairy tale book. If you like, I could spend the next few days reading and translating it with you."
Beckman grinned, carefully accepting the book and flipping through, captivated by the strange markings that were so similar yet so different from one of the writing styles used by his own language. "I'd appreciate that, thanks Harry."
Harry laughed, waving the thanks off. "Not a problem. Consider it my thanks for being so easy-going about all this. Your captain is a strange one, inviting strangers to have adventures aboard his ship."
Beckman quirked an eyebrow and gave a chuckle himself. "You're quite strange as well, asking infamous pirates to show you an adventure. I hope you're prepared; men have gotten white hair simply listening to the stories of our exploits."
"You needn't worry for me," Harry assured him, "men have gone bald when listening to mine."
The two laughed, teasingly exchanging quips and jibes about the effects of their storytelling.
A/N: And there's that! Thanks again to my beta, Indifferent Nobody.
Araceil and shroom847: Thanks :)
Annabelle: If this chapter doesn't answer your question, then allow me to be direct and state that I fully intend on making this Harry/Shanks slash. Wish me luck!
22 reviews today, July 9, 2010