“Pirate, Pirate!” Yelled the gnome, and Harry cursed it mentally as his target burst through the foliage.

“Peter! I’ll get you this time!” Harry yelled, flying over the river, until he was caught by surprise again. It was the thief from his rooms.

“Oh, it’s you again,” the young waif called as he floated lazily in the air. Harry marveled at the child’s ability to seem so at home in the air. . . and that anyone would have hair messier than his own.

“Where’s my wand and where’s Peter?” Harry demanded, poised to spear the cocky child with his broom if need be. The boy’s body became ridged and he scowled, placing his hands on his hips and stamping his foot in mid-air.

“I’m Peter! And I’ll have you know that everyone who comes to my island is required to know that.” Peter turned to a group of boys below, forming ranks on the banks. “Imagine him being stupid enough not to recognize me! Can you believe that this. . . what are you anyway. Boy or Pirate?”

Ignoring the quiet hollering of “Pirate, Pirate” from the gnome below, Harry answered the question the same as before.

“A wizard. And you’ve taken my wand, whoever you are.”

“Peter, Peter Pan.” The younger boy crowed. “And it’s my wand now. If you want it, you’ll just have to come and get it.”

Harry surged forward quickly, but Peter was ready for him. Unencumbered by any apparatus to assist in flying, Peter could move far more quickly and unpredictably than Harry who, for the first time ever, found his top of the line Firebolt to be too slow. Still crowing Peter pulled the wand from his belt and held it tauntingly in front of him before zooming straight up with Harry close behind in his slipstream.

Harry caught up to Peter and latched onto his foot with a Seeker’s grip. Despite Peter’s twisting he couldn’t free himself and the two lashed at each other in the air, heedless of their quickly decreasing altitude. Harry, having to maintain his grip on Peter and the broom sustained the most damage as he was hit with the thief’s free hand.

The lost boys below had taken up the gnomes call, “Pirates, Pirates!” But were unheeded by either Harry or Peter until they hit the water and continued their struggle underneath the surface. It seemed like an eternity before they broke above and gasped for air. Harry had just a moment to see the Lost Boys take off into the forest, lead by his sparkling wand before a small boat obstructed his view. Just feet away, a surly band of men sneered at Harry before grabbing his collar and hauling him by his collar into the craft. The overwhelming stench of alcohol, filth and sweat pervaded the scene as the boat quickly made its way to shore and Harry struggle helplessly against the many hands, arms and boots pinning him to the bottom of the boat. Moments later the men picked him up again, only to dump him, unceremoniously at the booted feet of their leader.

Harry looked up into the pale blue eyes, wide with disbelief, of a man leaning over him. His red coat was pristine despite the filth of the men surrounding him. Instead of a hand a hook pointed straight at Harry’s chest. For the first time in his life, Captain James Hook, stuttered.

“Y-you’re a-”

“You’re a-Pirate”, Harry sputtered in response. The water sloshing in his lungs and shock were quickly overtaking the now shivering boy. He fought for consciousness, but it was a losing battle.

Captain Hook finally found the word he was searching for.

“Potter?”

Harry finally fell to the ground, wet, cold and grateful as he slipped into sleep for the relief of pain and confusion. The next sensation he became aware of was that his hands were bound behind his back. As awareness increased he realized he was laying in the center of a bustle of activity and that is was wood and no longer sand beneath him.