Chapter 2. we're bound for London harber
As soon as the initial shock passed, the strange pair of a wizard clad in flier's uniform from thirty years into the future, and a fully-clothed elf, started making plans of getting back to Britain. Although Alexa, having somehow felt or realized what will happen, did pack Marcus's belongings (essential and not so) into a multi-compartment trunk, which was now tucked safely in her own backpack (sometimes, liberal use of expansion charms could save lives), the only means of transport they had was a high-velocity, instant exceleration, almost indistructable broomstick – the Firebolt extreme. Simply aperating or elf-popping to the isles of Scilly was out of question, for neither of them knew who owned the Longhurst keep before them. Due to Marcus's transformation, flying in the open was too dangerous; the aurors, if not the dementors, would kill whom they thought to be Sirius Black, as per the orders of the ministry itself. The only way Marcus could get out of the island without too much risk, was by boat.
"wait a moment, I don't have a boat!" – the wizard tried to explain to the elf for fifth time, but Alexa seemed to know something he did not. Humming to herself, she kept rummaging through Marcus's trunk and her own backpack, every now and then coming up with one idea or another. finally, in the very bottom of the seven-compartment trunk she found what looked like a paper boat and a flute, both covered in miniscule runes. "here it is, you forgetful windhead", - the creature replied casually, unimpressed with her master's short memory. "fantastic foldable flotilla and Weasleys' wild windhorn". Marcus just stared at Alexa, as if she had finally lost her wits, but grudgingly accepted the toys. At the elf's instructions he exited the tent, which disappeared instantly into the bottomless backpack, and with a cry of "heave!" flung the boat over his shoulder. Instead of discipating in water, the paper started expanding and turned into wood, until instead of a foldable, a fully equipped two-person sailboat stood proudly by the shore. With another cry of "heave away!" the strange pair of would-be sailors stepped aboard.
Anna Maria Fletcher, the aspiring healer and apprentice of the unspeakables, was enjoying her day off by flying over the North sea in her animagus form of a seagull. out of a sudden, something in the distance caught her attention. A wooden sailboat, steered by a man and what looked like a house elf, was making its way to Britain. A song not unlike ones she heard from old sailors, reached her ears:
For London harbour we got bound, heave away, Haul away!
To London harbour way we found. We're bound for London harber.
Haul away you roling king! Heave away, haul away!
Haul away oh hear me sing, we're bound for London harbour.
The wizard's voice was so familiar, yet his appearance seemed to be obscured by a heavy glamor. Throwing all caution to the wind, Anna Maria approached the boat, landed on the deck and transformed.
"ann? What are you doing here?" – not Marcus asked timidly. Even though he did everything to look like his father after school, the hawklike eyes of his future mother were more than capable of penetrating Alexa's glamor charms.
"I can ask you the same" – the witch replied. "what are you doing here, Sirius Black?" the wizard tensed, waiting for a spell, a fist, anything, that never came.
"how did you?.." – he finally stammered, overcome by a wave of dread.
"fear not, I'm not some foolish auror. Drop your glamor and tell your tale. I swear by the law of the unspeakables not to harm you on any way, be it directly or not".
Instead of answering, Marcus nodded to Alexa, who gave Anna a note (and when did she manage to write it?) the witch read it for several times, paling more and more with each. "holy bucket!" was everything she managed to squeak not unlike a schoolgirl. Only one thought circled in her mind: "Sirius Black or not, this unfortunate soul needs our assistance, the unspeakable laws be damned!" thus, even before entering the London harbor, Marcus Longhurst and his elf gained protection of the most mysterious organization in Britain. Thus, having one less thing to worry about, all three sailors returned to the isles, all the while singing "We're bound for London harbor".