Chapter Three: Washed Ashore

Five Years Ago

God knows how long they'd been on that forsaken lifeboat. Harry laid there; eyes pointed up at the sky in a continuous state of fatigue. He dared not move unless he needed to go to the bathroom, and even then, he didn't really want to. Every now and then he'd turn to see Oliver sitting there like a stump near his father's body, which would start decomposing in about a day or so, only adding onto the terrible aroma the ocean's smell gave.

Harry almost wanted to laugh to break the depressing silence. What kind of luck did he have? The one time he was on a vacation away from magic, he ended up being locked in his room, which in itself was bad enough from an outside perspective (not that it really matters at this point, does it), survive the yacht's sinking, only to watch Robert Queen commit murder and then turn the gun on himself. Yeah, Harry's luck just seemed to be continually getting better, huh? Harry and Oliver both had the same question, although the young wizard never spoke it aloud unlike his older companion.

How many times had Oliver asked that simple question: "Why?" since Robert pulled that trigger? Harry lost count by now, but it had definitely been more than fifty times. It was the only thing the young man had said since then.

Surely, Oliver must have been thinking the same thing as him, right? Focusing on Robert's last words to them... "Listen to me... both of you... survive."

Why did Robert say that? What exactly did Robert say to Oliver right before the gun went off? Harry wanted to know but was unsure whether he would ever get the answers to those questions.

After what seemed to be hours went by, Harry slowly lifted his head to see Oliver staring at his father's body, holding the revolver that killed him.

"Why did you do that Dad? We could have made it... there was enough..." Oliver said weakly, before throwing the gun aside, the barrel completely empty.

"Don't do it..." Harry called out in a raspy voice. Oliver looked at him with surprise. "Don't do it... your dad, he wouldn't want you to do that."

Looking at the revolver, Oliver caught his drift. "I, I'm not."

After a minute of silence, he spoke again. "I'm not going to die... I'm going to go back home. We'll be found, and you'll get to go back to your family."

Harry lowered his head. "The Dursleys... they, they were my only..." he didn't say anything else but Oliver caught the drift.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think... I forgot what you said when you were about to go aboard." Oliver for the first time scooted away from his father and slightly towards the kid in front of him. "Wh-what's your name?"

"Harry... Harry Potter."

"Oliver. Oliver Queen, if you hadn't already guessed," he chuckled, holding his hand out to the wizard with a small smile, the first since the yacht went down. Harry hesitantly shook it, and strangely enough the mood became lighter as if there was more hope to their situation. Unfortunately, right about now Harry wasn't exactly hopeful, but he was feeling a little better than before.

Looking at him, Harry couldn't get the image of Oliver screaming out that girl's name. "If you don't mind me asking... who was Sara?" Initially, Oliver looked like he was going to frown, but instead sighed softly and leaned back.

"I don't know how to put it. She's my girlfriend's sister. I was dating her behind her sister's back, believe it or not. Now that I think about it, I wish I hadn't done it."

"So... that girl, the brunette that was leaving when we showed up, that was your girlfriend?" Oliver nodded. "And the girl on the boat with you was her sister. Blimey, you're in for it when you get home."

"I know. Laurel's going to kill me, or worse her father will do it himself," Oliver covered his face with his hands making Harry smile lightly.

Yeah... I think you're screwed, Harry silently thought to himself.

"No kidding," they laughed at the situation, before everything went quiet once more. Harry turned to his right where the book bag he managed to save was resting beside him and reached into it to pull out a photo. He was so glad he didn't lose it, it was the only one he brought to the yacht with him. Strangely enough, looking at the photo it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I think... I think I'm not going back to England anytime soon," Harry muttered softly to himself, before looking at the revolver in front of him. Reaching over and grabbing it, Harry held it out to Oliver. "It's probably better if you have it," Oliver hesitantly took it, and put the weapon in his pocket.

Over the next couple of hours, the two slowly got to know each other little by little, Harry never mentioning anything about the Dursleys. Oliver kept talking about how his family was probably worried sick by now, and how he hoped they'd find land soon. It was unlikely. They were lost at sea, and nobody was coming for them. By the time the sun set, Harry shuffled into an upright position, taking in a deep breath. Whatever hope he'd had today was draining away slowly. He didn't want to die in this lifeboat.

Hermione laid in bed covered in a thin layer of sweat, slumber eluding her in the early hours of the morning. It had been unusually warm this year, thus far. Add onto the underlying anxiety she was dealing with, and it made for a very uncomfortable morning. She hadn't heard from Harry in nearly four days, and she was getting worried. He promised to call in the morning; she knew he wouldn't break his promise, it just wasn't like him. Rolling over, she glanced at the snowy white owl perched in the cage to see a familiar look of worry upon Hedwig's face.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" Hermione asked, almost expecting an answer from the owl. However, she merely ruffled her feathers.

Hermione had let Hedwig out the night before to go roam and eat, so she was fine for now. Part of her thought about sending the owl to go find Harry, but truthfully, she didn't know if anything was wrong.

The girl's restlessness got the better of her, sitting up and sliding into her fuzzy bunny slippers. Walking downstairs, she found her parents watching the television. Since it was early they were most likely watching the news, so Hermione decided not to bother them and quietly make her way to the kitchen for something to drink.

"Hermione, sweetheart…" her mother's voice called for her as she rinsed the glass out. The tone of which startled the girl to her very core, as it resounded with fear and worry.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked as she rounded the corner into the living room only to find her parents were no longer alone. Standing in the center of the room with her parents was Professor Albus Dumbledore, in attire that was rather alien. No longer adorning the quintessential wizard robes that he was never seen out of, Dumbledore was in a silver suit and had his hair pulled back neatly into a ponytail. "P-Professor Dumbledore? What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore's already sour demeanor progressed as he lowered his head, holding something wrapped in a cloth in his hands. He was caressing it gently like a child, which only added to Hermione's confusion.

"I'm afraid the reason for my visit isn't good, Hermione." he stated sadly. Hermione's blood nearly froze as she realized he called her by her first name, something he would normally never do. To forego his formal proceedings, something had to be incredibly wrong.

"What is it?"

"H-" Dumbledore's voice broke, and the wizard closed his eyes momentarily. "How long has it been since you spoke to Mr. Potter?"

"Earlier this week, why? What's happened?"

"I'm afraid that-" he cleared his throat, "I'm afraid Harry is gone…"

Her heart threatened to stop then and there. The tumultuous storm of emotions that had been brewing since her call with Harry roared at the news, only being held back by a few resisting strands of optimism.

"Wh-what do you mean, g-gone?" she asked, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

"I received word from a former colleague who works at the MACUSA that the Queen's Gambit went down in the Pacific Ocean four days ago. They're still searching as we speak, but all they could find was this."

Dumbledore slowly unwrapped the object, revealing it to be an all too familiar wand. Without even speaking another word, Dumbledore could see Hermione's heart break into a thousand pieces at the sight of Harry's wand.

Hermione wanted it to be some sick joke, that her worry had been for nothing. She'd wake up from this nightmare and Harry would call her as he had promised; this wouldn't be real, and she wouldn't have lost her best friend.

Three days passed and the overabundance of time gave a chance for the two to talk. Oliver had mainly been quiet as they floated aimlessly. The smell of the ocean was making Harry sick, causing him to throw up every now and then.

"You feeling okay?" Oliver asked, breaking his silence, scooting over to him a bit. Harry turned to face him with skin as pale as a ghost. The amount of sweat running down his face was far too alarming for Oliver's liking.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay, just a little seasick," Harry replied as Oliver put his hand up to the wizard's forehead. He had a fever alright, not a horrible one, but enough to make him worried.

"You're pretty warm. Hopefully we can find land soon," the playboy informed him, as Harry's face turned a sickly green and he moved over the side of the boat to vomit whatever contents were left in his stomach. Patting Harry's shoulder, Oliver just looked towards the floor. The smell coming from his father's body wasn't helping matters either. He could smell Robert, decomposition was starting.

Harry wiped his mouth as he laid down, closing his eyes. "So... tired," he yawned, as Oliver's eyes moved to the kid's hands. There was something Harry was holding in his left hand. Moving to grab it, Oliver was surprised to see how quickly he reacted, snatching it away. "What are you doing?"

"I was just wondering what you were holding," he explained. Harry blinked, and looked down at his hand, opening it to reveal the photo of him with Ron and Hermione.

"The only photo I got to keep of my friends. It was right at the end of the school year," he answered with a yawn, his eyes barely able to stay open.

"You know, that's probably the happiest I've seen you since you stepped onto the dock." Oliver smiled. "I'm sure you miss them."

"Yeah, I do... they're, they're my best friends... my first friends, honestly." The words left his mouth quicker than he could anticipate. Harry hadn't realized what he was saying, not that it really mattered.

"Well, rest up pal. You'll see them soon enough, I'm sure of it."

Harry let out a sigh, whispering "hopefully" as he closed his eyes, internally thinking about the loss of the Dursleys, the only 'family' he'd known, and how he had no place to go home to now. The Burrow in truth was a possibility, but Harry couldn't imagine the Weasleys bringing him in as one of their own.

Oliver watched as Harry turned over, finally falling asleep. He took the one blanket that had been on the raft and covered Harry with it, taking one last glance towards the horizon. Slowly, he was able to start to make out the shape of what appeared to be land.

I think our luck's finally changing for the better. Oliver smiled, patting Harry's shoulder lightly. Laying back, Oliver decided to rest for the next couple hours until they were closer to the landmass.

By the time the lifeboat got closer to the landmass, which turned out to be an island Oliver could see the difference in Harry's face as the thirteen-year-old woke up. His face was full of color, and he didn't look as exhausted as before. The two saw the island's outline and smiled. After four days of being adrift, they were finally about to touch land.

Upon reaching the shore, Harry frantically climbed out of the lifeboat as Oliver slowly turned to face his father's body. He had to bury him…

Pulling Robert off of the lifeboat, Oliver watched as a small notebook fell out of his father's pocket. It was a strange notebook that appeared to be something close to a journal with a symbol on the front of it that Oliver couldn't tell the meaning behind. The thoughts that could have arisen from this tiny notebook were all pushed aside by the matter at hand. He didn't have time to think about it, so he reached down and grabbed the notebook, placing it in the pocket of his shorts before continuing to move Robert inland.

By the time he got Robert laid down on the rocks, Harry was a little way off looking around.

"Doesn't look like anyone's here!" Harry called out, adjusting the strap of the book bag he managed to save from the yacht on his right shoulder.

"Maybe they're further inland," Oliver shrugged, as he came to the conclusion he couldn't keep moving Robert at this pace. Quietly, he began working on burying his father as Harry slowly made his way back over to him.

"Hey... do you think anyone else made it?" Harry asked as Oliver set one of the many burial rocks down with a confused expression. This entire time he hadn't really considered the possibility of anyone else making it.

"M-maybe, it's hard to tell. As far as I knew, this was the only lifeboat we had." It wasn't hard to tell by the look in Harry's eyes to know the kid was thinking about all the lives the yacht took with it. "Look, I'm sorry... I know your family was on the yacht."

"It's alright, better to be honest I guess." Harry gave a light shrug. "I'll be back."

Oliver nodded as Harry made his way to the tree line to relieve himself. As he made a clearing for Robert's grave, all he could hear was Robert's dying words.

"Right my wrongs..." Robert's voice echoed in the back of his mind. "Both of you... survive."

Harry wasn't sure what to think of the new environment he found himself in to be absolutely honest. Besides the relief he felt to be on solid ground, he hadn't thought much of anything else. Zipping his pants back up, Harry went to grab his book bag only to realize something was missing, something vitally important.

In all of the chaos, somehow it had slipped past his attention that he didn't have his wand. That was in the remains of the Queen's Gambit. Among that, renewed attention to the loss of Hermione's favorite book took his focus.

"She's going to kill me," he muttered lowly as he began walking back towards the beach. However, a distinct crack made him freeze where he stood. Pushing his glasses up onto his nose, Harry turned towards the woods, gulping heavily.

The leaves rustled, and a moment later Harry's book bag hit the ground.

Oliver had just finished putting the last rock over Robert's grave when the sound of a rock rolling caught his attention. "Hey, what took you so-" as he climbed to his feet, an arrow abruptly pierced through the right side of his chest. "AH!"

Turning around, he could on a rock patch not too far away was a man in a green hood and had what appeared to be a bow in his hand. His eyes became heavy and as he fell to the ground, the last thing he saw was the hooded man looking down upon him.