Auradon, 2019
From the talk around Auradon, Harry learned that the old pirate and his crew had docked recently. The stuffy Royals didn't know what to do with them; in their story, the pirates had been more Hero than Villain, but they were still coarse and dubious.
But the Royals still prided themselves on their manners and hospitality, so they threw a party for the scallywags. And how could Harry not attend? Even if he hadn't been invited, he would have been there, for pure entertainment value.
The mingling of shimmery gowns, crisp tuxedos and weathered sea slops made for such an interesting contrast. There was polite laughter and raucous cheering, perfume and sea stink, quiet conversation and drunken yelling. Some of the shabby old pirates were hitting on ladies in pastel dresses, and used to chivalrous princes, the poor girls didn't know how to respond.
Harry laughed and joined in the fun.
He first approached a brunette wearing pale yellow—her boyfriend swept her away, out onto the dance floor. He tried to ask a blonde to dance, but a prince suddenly appeared at her side—Harry blew the blonde a kiss before the prince could entirely escort her away. And the young pirate didn't even say anything to the third girl before a tuxedoed boy interrupted and said, "She's taken."
Feeling a bit dejected, Harry wandered over to the edge of the ballroom, where Uma was standing, arms folded across her chest. He smiled at her as he approached. She rolled her eyes and walked away. Harry felt something… strange as he watched her go.
"A word of advice, my friend," Old Seadog began in his muddled way. Harry hadn't even realized he was nearby. "If you want one particular fish, don't go chasing them all." And then he held up a flask. "Rum?"