A Pirates Life for Me
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter that is a right only claimable to Ms Rowling and Pirates of the Caribbean rights are all Disney's, I'm just a wanna-be writer who has to many ideas to write and draw but never enough time.
Sometimes when I feel like killing someone, I do a little trick to calm myself down. I'll go over to the person's house and ring the doorbell. When the person comes to the door, I'm gone, but you know what I've left on the porch? A jack-o-lantern with a knife stuck in the side of its head with a note that says 'You.' After that I usually feel a lot better, and no harm done.
- Jack Handy
Harry was never one to complain. He had learned that at a young age growing up with the Dursleys, that complaining never did any good. However, given the circumstances he was in (and had been in for the past five years), he felt a bit of ranting was well beyond overdue.
"Damn it Dumbledore, you can't keep me locked in this god forsaken house until you deem me sane!" The twenty-one year old boy-who-lived shouted across the barrier that separated the elder wizard from the supposed criminal.
"Harry, my boy, you have to admit that you have not acted in a way as to convince the Ministry that you are well enough to be let out of confinement." The headmaster stated calmly.
"As if you have ever acted sane, you slimy old codger!" Harry spat out in disgust as he sneered at the man who had stood between him and his freedom for far too long.
"I, however, do not go around throwing unforgivables and torturing wizards for enjoyment." The headmaster almost sneered back at his former student.
"Those bastards deserved every moment of torture they got." Harry's eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously at his former headmaster, "While you sat in your cozy little office night after night, I witnessed their atrocities... the murders... the tortures that they wrought upon their victims, I felt as well. They were lucky; I only gave them a fraction of the pain compared to what their victims felt. Compared to what I felt... Compared to how much pain I could have made them feel…"
"Harry," Albus Dumbledore looked upon the boy with pity practically oozing from his very pores. "That is why you are here, you are not all right, and to let you out of this room would only endanger the lives of others as well as your own."
"Why in the seven hell's are you here then? To make sure I haven't off't myself? I think we both know I can't; 'must die at the hands of the other' or some shit like that. You remember... That's the only reason I'm alive is it not?" Harry's fists pounded upon the invisible wall in anger.
"I just came to see if your condition had improved." The aged wizard answered with a sigh.
"While I may be mistaken, I don't think that the best way to cure a man of his supposed insanity is to lock him in a room for five bloody years." Harry snarled, "Is the war going that badly? Do they need their 'chosen one' to come save the day?"
Harry threw his fists against the barrier one last time with all his strength. The barrier's magic reacted against his own and threw him back against the far wall. The force in which he hit the wall was hardly more then a shove, which just pissed him off more. Screaming with frustration, he buried his hands into his hair and slid down the wall.
The following seconds felt like hours. Harry could feel Dumbledore's eyes drilling into him and he didn't have the strength to face them any longer. "Just... Fuck off..." he muttered darkly. His eyes watering with unshed tears of frustration and anger.
The second held, and then the old man once again turned and walked out the door and into the light of freedom beyond that he had been denied for far too long. And then the door sealed, leaving no evidence that a door was ever there, and it, the light that beckoned him.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, the once-boy-savior wiped pathetically at his watering eyes and took a deep shaky breath before shuffling over to his bed and burring himself under the blanket.
For five years, he had been left alone in this small prison, the Solitude. Books lined the walls and a small wooden bed divided room. small bathroom with shower, sink, and toilet. He had no idea where he was and his only 'company' so to speak was a small house elf, who would pop in with small meals. However, any attempt at conversation or even capture (as he had eventually attempted several times to no avail) would end in 'it' popping back out with a squeak.
The books, he had thought were a mercy to save him from the days of nothing that followed. However, as time continued on, he quickly realized that, really, the only reason for the provided tomes of charms and defense was so he would study to be the bullet that would defeat the Dark Lord. In the end, it had only taken him two years to read all of them, leaving him with only his dreams.
Harry sighed and closed his eyes. Through the darkness behind his closed lids, he imagined his freedom. Blue skies and open air, sandy beaches and shady palm trees, the smell of salt and the sea and the cries of gulls overhead.
"Hmm... Mmm... Mhm.. Mmm.. A pirate's life for me..." The soft melody drifted through his mind and he found himself singing the ditty as his mind drifted to fair shores, golden beaches and aqua waters and he soon found himself grinning quite broadly as he began to drift off into the realm of dreams.
Tia Dalma was a lonely woman. Normally she would have had all the company that a woman could ever want, however business was hard these days and few found themselves going up river seeking to... well... Get to know her better.
After a month of no visitors, Tia decided to take it upon herself to find herself a new man. She was a witch for gods sake, if she couldn't do a simple thing like summon the perfect man, then she didn't deserve her reputation as being the best damn witch in the Caribbean!
While she had never heard of such things ever being done before, with a touch of magic anything was possible, right? So with that thought, she set to work on the summoning circle.
"H'andsome and Myste'ri'ous, yes," she muttered to herself as she continued to write in the blood of one of the virgin villagers (willingly given to her of course, what was a little blood between friends, right?), "an' prophecy... wit' a hear't o' gold an' a temp'er of a Li'on w'en provoked. A man... who lon'gs fo' da sea an is a warr'ior. A ma'n who 'as ne'er known da tou'ch o a wo'man, bu't is as passionate a's e'ver."
With one last squiggle she added one last bit "Him m'ust be mag'ical be'ond any'ting on dis e'rth"
Lighting thirteen candles, one for each request and with a sprinkle of salt and her magic 'dust' she began a chant of summoning.
For nearly thirteen hours she rocked back and forth, chanting and evoking the gods to bring forth the man of her dreams. A storm began to rage at the beginning of the twelfth hour and upon the thirteenth hour at the chime (if there were a chiming clock to do so) of midnight, lightning flashed, striking through the hut and hitting the center of the circle, throwing Tia back against the far wall.
The circle and its words all drawn in blood shook and seemed to liquidate. The black liquid gathered in the center and began to expand until it a huddled form could be made out.
By the time the thunder could be heard ecoing back through Tia's ears, the fire from the wicks of the candles, rose together to the center of the formless black blob.
The fireball pulsed outwards, extinguishing the flame, however the light remained, now a soft white ball of light. The light pulsed once more, like a heartbeat and slowly descended into the dark figure and with one last pulse, illuminating the entire hut, before it faded away, leaving only darkness.
Tia took a good five minutes after that point to check herself over for injuries and gathering up her wits before she lit a candle. The soft glow hardly illuminated a thing, but it managed to give Tia the courage to creep closer to see what her summoning had brought.
The circle was gone of course, the only thing remaining of the ceremony were the still warm wax from the candles, which surrounded the curled up figure in black.
Creeping forward, she knelt down cautiously and with a slow reach of her arm, she captured the corner of the cloak between two fingers and slowly lifted it to reveal long black strands of hair. Tossing the corner of cloth carefully out of the way, Tia gently guided a few of the silky black locks behind a gently pointed ear revealing the softly curved cheekbone, long black lashes, perfect nose and soft pale skin that looked untouched by the sun.
Carefully pulling her hand back, as to not disturb her sleeping beauty, Tia rose and softly padded her bare feet across the room and out the door onto the old, half rotted deck. There the women threw her arms in the air and whooped for the world to hear while wiggling and dancing this way and that in victory.
A sopping wet Jack Sparrow could not have beheld a stranger sight as he stood, one foot raised to take its first step onto the deck of the voodoo practitioner.
Eyes glancing around at the seemingly calm darkness which had only moments ago witness the seeming hight of storm, Jack knew that what ever had just happened had something to do with his 'dearest' and had obviously been what the witch had intended.
Troubled eyes watched as the voodooist tired herself out and re-entered the hut limping from feet now filled with slivers and breaths now coming out in uneven gasps.
Stepping forward cautiously, he stuck his head through the doorway and watched as Tia hummed happily to herself as she set to relighting her hut's candles.
A shaky hand knocked lightly on the door, "Ti- /ahem/ Tia, love?" Jack's voice squeaked.
The witches head snapped and wild eyes widened and narrowed as they beheld who lay in her doorway.
"Well, if it 'int Jack Spa'row." Tia's voice was drawn deep and sounded almost drunk. Weaving through the maze that was her home, the witch sauntered over to the pirate and gave him one look up and down, taking in his wet and thoroughly thrashed appearance.
The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the small room as Jack was sent reeling back from the witch-doctors blow.
"Bloody 'ell! Owe!" Jack clutched his jaw in pain as he turned wide eyed to his abuser, "What the 'ell was that for?"
"For be'in late! Do you 'ave any idear wha' yew be'in la'te caus' un me 't do?" the witch demanded, "I 'ad to summon da mo's suc'ulen o man to keep me comp'any! An righ win ah do, yew go an show yo face in here!"
Jack's face brightened upon hearing this, "You found your self a man love, darling! Well, let's see 'im!" Glancing around in search of Tia's supposed piece of man flesh he found himself face to face with the seeming enlarging figure of Tia as shifted into defense position and stood ready to deck Jack out if need be. "Easy, love! No harm in havin' a looksie, right?"
With a warning glare, Tia stood down and 'ruffled' before commanding, "Yew ca'n carry 'im tew a bed." With a bow of his head Jack nodded.
Tia allowed herself one last moment of hesitation of showing the dashing pirate the love of her life, as she now liked to think of him, before stepping aside and allowing the pirate full view of the candle encircled beauty.
Eyes furrowing in wonderment, Jack stepped towards the covered figure that lay in the middle of the floor surrounded by debris. Kneeling down Jack stared in near wonderment at the seeming purity of the young man before him.
"Righ't, Righ't, enough sta'rin, jus pick 'em up and carry 'em to de bed. You remember where dat is, don yew?" Tia jibed at her former lover.
"Whatever you say, darling." Jack gently picked up him up and found him to be surprisingly light (though Jack wasn't about to run a marathon carrying the boy). "I do feel though, that it is my duty as a man to make sure the boy knows what you plan to do to him before you sink your teeth in."
"Shu't up an keep on wa'l'kin Ja'ck." Tia snapped, kicking the pirate for encouragement.
"Right, right." Jack rolled his eyes and ducked and weaved through the jars of innards and hanging herbs to the far room where he placed the boy on the ratty old patched quilt. Smiling, Jack attempted to tuck the boy in, only to have Tia smack his hands and do the job instead.
"Now, Ja'ck, wha brings yew up riv'er?" Tia demanded walking out to the main room, leaving Jack to follow her.
With one last glance and the sleeping angel, Jack turned and followed the witch out. "My crew mutinied, Tia," Jack began, "Right before I was to hit the jackpot. They left me on a bloody island and sailed away with MY bloody ship…"
End Chapter One